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written-in-knife · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a platonic relationship with Crowley or Crewel? For example, they adopt a reader (officially on paperwork, or emotionally) and suddenly the reader just falls through some portal and ends up in another world. And Crowley/Crewel just *dad panic, -1000 nerve cells*. At the end all is well and they reunite!Another point, you didn't ask for it, but I'll say it (sorry). Put two tags in your fanfics "TWST × reader" and "Twisted Wonderland × reader" (put both at once) so more people will see you!

Watching and Waiting

Parental!Crewel & gn!Reader

Fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort? a single sentence of a little hurt/no comfort at the very end sorryy

Word count: 4049

That tip does actually really help and I will do that from now on, thank you! I really love the idea of the staff pseudo-adopting the main character, but I'm OBSESSED with Papa Crewel. And to demonstrate, I'm going to get completely carried away with this prompt! HERE WE GO!

When it came to the student body of Night Raven College, Crewel had a certain level of fondness for all of them. He was strict, of course, he wanted nothing but to see them succeed, but there was a little bit of pride he took in every class. Diligent juniors who'd been with him for a handful of years at this point, most of whom exceeded his every expectation and the rest who at least performed the required tasks with the skills he'd taught them. Flighty but extremely talented sophomores who managed to impress him at every turn in one way or another. Even the freshmen, a group of troublemakers to be sure, but malleable, sharp minds that just needed to focus up to learn the material and they'd be well on their way to excelling in his class.

Then there was you.

Crowley had called a staff meeting to explain the situation to the teachers once you and Grim had proven yourselves worthy to become two halves of a whole student. Trein had asked if there was an active search on figuring out a way to send you home to your own world, and Crowley responded with a very flippant yes that left a sour taste on everyone's tongue. Once it was announced that you had been placed in Class A, Crewel's homeroom, he silently vowed to keep an eye on you. Just that. A magicless student in a magic academy in a world they were not at all familiar with felt to him very much like a wounded puppy being circled by vultures. He wouldn't treat you any differently, of course, you were simply a few steps behind and needed someone watching your back whether you knew the eyes were there or not.

So he watched. He watched as those friends of yours extorted you when you were at your wits end with Grim, he watched you struggling with Grim. He watched you in the second-hand uniform with hastily stitched repairs that was at least a size too big and getting bigger on you as you were not being provided with enough money to feed yourself and Grim AND repair your dorm. He watched as you tried to make Ramshackle habitable, and he watched as you over-extended yourself to put an end to Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar's overblots. And when he watched you in the nurse's office just laughing off your injuries the day of the Spelldrive tournament, Crewel decided he was done watching.

It started small at first. He'd discussed with Trein about what subjects you were struggling in, not surprised to hear they were all magic based subjects, then held you back after class to offer to tutor you in those subjects under the guise of wanting all his pups to succeed. Which he did, of course. You agreed to the after school tutoring, which Grim very loudly refused to attend. Every other day after school, you met up with Crewel his classroom to tackle some subject or other more in depth while he graded assignments, and before you left, he would hand you a large container with food in it.

"This is cutting into your dinner time, is it not?" He explained when you asked about it. "I'm not a monster, I wouldn't expect you to go without eating all night."

"You don't have to go out of your way, Professor." You sighed, too hungry to deny the free food.

"Hardly. It's leftovers from last night," a lie, but you didn't need to know that, "I won't miss them."

Crewel caught you back up in your subjects fairly quickly, you were a diligent student. As the days went on, he watched some life return to your face until he could no longer find that ravenous look deep behind your eyes. He started setting a portion of his salary aside and bringing it to Sam, telling him to keep it for when you came by to purchase anything, giving him a little extra to not tell you where it was coming from. He felt a little swell of pride in his chest when he heard you bragging to Ace and Deuce about your grocery run being paid for. He was comfortable with this, happy enough not watching you wasting away and seeing you beginning to thrive in this school. He knew you could hold your own after handling two overblots, so he knew you could handle yourself against the Octavinelle trio when they came for your dorm. And of course you did. He felt that swell of pride again, stronger than he felt for his other students. Then again, his other students didn't have to fight nearly as hard as you did. Before he left for the winter break, he left a parcel on your doorstep that contained a thick pair of gloves, a fur lined hat, a cashmere scarf, and an old brown fur jacket of his. He worried it may not fit, but he refused to leave you to freeze while he was gone. He left a note in the box on top of the items.

"A small reward for your hard work this semester. Enjoy your holiday, you earned it. D. Crewel"

When he came back from the winter break, he was disappointed to find your school uniform in worse condition than when he left, a jacket sleeve hanging on for dear life, poorly patched holes in the knees, one of your shoes peeling away from the soles. He refused to let that go on any longer than it needed to, bringing you to Sam's himself to get you fitted for a new uniform. When you tried to insist that you could pay, Crewel insisted that it wasn't necessary, citing that he couldn't have any of his pups looking less than their best for the upcoming culture fair. When you tried to bring up the winter clothing he'd left you, he brushed off your thanks with a wave of his hand.

"We can find something more suitable to your style before your next winter." He insisted as he gently adjusted your tie. "I couldn't have one of my best freshmen freezing to death while I was gone, could I?"

Despite being caught up to the other students in your subjects, you still came by after class, more often to gossip over whatever meal Crewel had brought with him than to study. You told him about what happened over the winter break, and how the Octavinelle trio actually ended up helping you out. You told him about Ace and Deuce showing up after everything had been resolved, how they got there by train and boat and foot because they had been so worried about you. You kept him up to date about how your dorm, finally at least clean and presentable, had been offered up for the SDC group headquarters. He occasionally had gossip for you, making you swear not to spread anything around before he would tell you anything. It was usually student gossip that was being spread around anyways, some spat in Savanaclaw, an Ignihyde student locking down a portion of the school website to blast photos of another student doing something embarrassing, and so on. He wouldn't admit it to a soul in the world, not even you, but you were swiftly becoming his favorite. Remarkable grades for someone who didn't even know the Great Seven at the beginning of the school year, the admirable bravery and kindness it took to stop five overblots in their tracks, you were impressive. That feeling of pride in his chest eventually never left.

When the Ferrymen came to remove students and take them to Styx, when he heard two of his students were injured, he sprinted down to the nurses office, feeling a bit shameful in the amount of relief he felt that you were not in one of the beds. When you did show up to check on your friends, he patched up the few scrapes you did have and insisted you didn't do anything rash. He knew how much you'd grown to care for Grim, but you had to leave this to the faculty. He was already boiling with rage at the injuries Ace and Deuce had sustained, if Crowley wouldn't handle this, he'd figure out a way to handle it himself. He should've realized that would be your mindset as well. He was furious when he heard you'd gone off with Rook and Epel to find everyone that had been taken, but more than that, he was afraid. He was afraid you wouldn't come back, and all he could do was wait and watch. When you did eventually come back, Crewel had an entire lecture planned for you, explaining how reckless and irresponsible it was to go running off with Rook and Epel to find Styx like that, how you could've been injured or worse, how he expected better from you. You took it like a champ, fully expecting the lecture before you even went after Rook in the first place. But you were safe, everyone was safe, that's all that mattered to you. You could sit through one lecture. When Crewel finally ran out of steam, he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look back up at him.

"I'm glad you're safe, pup, but don't you even think of doing something like this ever again."

"Okay, Dad."

You both froze, but for different reasons. You couldn't believe you slipped up and called a teacher dad, you were extraordinarily embarrassed. Crewel on the other hand was putting a name to exactly what that feeling of pride in his chest is every time he sees you succeed. You may not be his by blood or by law, but you are his. He ruffled your hair and sent you away with an order to rest up after your adventure.

You still came by his office after school, raving about a good grade on a history test or complaining about Grim and Ace getting you and Deuce in trouble in Vargas's class. It felt much lighter than when you first joined him in his office at the beginning of the school year, you had been so tense back then. You eventually took to calling him Dad on occasion, mostly when you were teasing him about something or other. He'd never imagined himself as a father, but he supposed at some point he had decided you were his kid, even subconsciously. It was probably the day he'd decided to stop watching, as soon as he closed that distance in his mind, you became his child. He wouldn't admit it out loud to you, or anyone for that matter, but he did consider you to be his family at this point.

In the meantime, Crowley had been actually, finally, working on a way to send you home, mirrors now lining his office, portals in the frames to different places in Twisted Wonderland, a few that go beyond but not correctly. Not to your home. Crowley had confided in Crewel that he wasn't sure he was going to find you a way home before the end of the school year, not sure what to do with you since they couldn't keep you on campus. Crewel offered up his home in half a heartbeat, more than willing to keep watching over you over the summer should it come to that. They were discussing the logistics of it in Crowley's office when you came into the room, stepping off to the side by the wall when you realized they were speaking, waiting your turn. You were standing in front of a large, full body mirror that nearly reached the ceiling in height when the door slammed open again, shaking the walls, Riddle scolding Kalim for opening the door so recklessly as the rest of the Housewardens filed in behind them. They all got a front row seat to watch the large mirror at your back teeter back and forth for a second, then topple forward and on top of you before you could even realize to dive out of the way. The mirror shattered when it landed flat on the floor, no sign of you underneath. Despite that, Crewel ran to it, enlisting Leona to help him lift it, desperately hoping to find you injured but alive. Find you there. But the only thing below the frame were the splinters of glass, now just reflecting the room instead of a swirling portal.

You were gone.

Crewel nearly throttled Crowley to get any information about that portal that he could. All Crowley could provide was the number he'd written on the back of the frame, a three, and suggested there may be others with that number. Other mirrors had recognizable names on the back, Clock Town square, Fleur City waterways, Scalding Sands outskirts. A few also had numbers, three ones, a five, two busted mirrors with a four on the back and the word dangerous, two had apparently been so uninhabitable that he tossed the mirror out entirely. He explained that he wasn't sure where the numbered mirrors led, they were not familiar lands to him. The ones all led to the exact same spot in a field of flowers he'd never laid eyes on, nor had you upon bringing one back, the five led to the inside of a locked room with lettering inscribed in the walls that you didn't recognize from your world. Three had led to a bustling city street. Crowley had led you through it once during his investigations. You recognized the area, but it was wrong. The way you'd described it was that it looked like three major cities from your world had been mashed together, and the lettering on the signs was unlike anything you'd seen. It wasn't home, but it had given Crowley the idea that he'd been getting close. Crewel sent the Housewardens out of the office at the explanation, and no one argued with his tone, the group of them too shaken by watching their friend disappear before their eyes.

"Bring them back." Crewel snapped as soon as the door closed behind the students.

"I'm sure they're fine, Divus, they even said themselves that it was similar to their home--"

Crewel grabbed him by the lapels on his jacket and dragged him back over to the shattered remains of the mirror. "Similar is not good enough, Dire." He snarled at the man. "You swore you would send them home, not abandon them in another unfamiliar place. Now, it is my pup that is lost as a result of your negligence and you will bring them back here, or so help me, I will--!"

"Alright! Yes, I will work on getting another portal open to them, but it will take time." Crowley agreed, if only to soothe over Crewel's rage. "It took months to find something that resembled their home the first time, and I haven't managed it again."

"Then I guess you had better get started."

The waiting was by far the hardest part. Every day for the first two weeks he would stop by Crowley's office to make sure he was working towards getting you back and to see if there were any developments. There were none. He was there in that office every day he didn't have classes, trying desperately to open the right portal. He and Crowley had told the Housewardens not to say anything to anyone yet, not wanting to worry the friends Crewel had watched you make. After the first two weeks of waiting, they could no longer keep it from Grim. Surprisingly enough, after telling him the news, Grim decided to stick close to Crewel in his free time. He's quieter now that you're missing, knowing he can't do anything. And Crewel said nothing. Azul and Riddle offered Crowley their help in creating portals to try to bring you back, Crewel almost had to threaten him to let them help. Eventually, when news finally spread about the reason behind your disappearance, Malleus came by to offer his assistance as well. It had been four weeks at this point, the five of them working together had managed to open eight new portals to places they didn't recognize, getting rid of every portal that led to another place in Twisted Wonderland to make room for the portals to other worlds in case one of them led to you and they just didn't realize it yet.

The waiting was agonizing. Crewel would, more often than not, end up sleeping at his desk in his office after staying too late with Crowley making portals and having to stay up longer to grade assignments. His office felt so quiet without you inserting yourself every day, he'd gotten so used to grading papers while you talked to him about your day that it was now hard to focus on it in the silence. But he had a duty to all his other students. So he kept teaching, training his other pups correctly lest they stray in his absence. But even the students noticed the change. He was quicker to anger, more harsh in his grading which they didn't think was possible, less tolerant of even the smallest mistakes. Trein had to pull him aside one day, three weeks after, to tell him he needed to take a break, that students were confiding in him about Crewel's behavior. He knew how he was acting, he knew how exhausted he was, but how could he be expected to stop when he knew you were out there somewhere? His kid was missing somewhere so far out of reach that finding them was, at this point, down to a shot in the dark, how could he be expected to take a break?

Four weeks had gone by with no sign of the portal you'd gone through. Riddle had dropped his appearances down to just the weekends, Azul had stopped coming entirely while claiming that he had to focus on the Lounge, Malleus returned every day like clockwork to try to find his dearest friend, but even he was starting to lose hope. Crewel still spent every waking moment that he wasn't fulfilling his role as a teacher on finding you. He had to drag Crowley back into the search a few times, and they'd fought about it more than once. Crewel, exhausted from lack of sleep and daily accumulation of blot, would shout at Crowley for not caring nearly enough that one of the students was missing, not caring enough to put his all into finding them again, how it was just like him to think his problems were solved once you were out of reach. Crowley would argue back that he was doing all he could, but he couldn't drop everything to look for one student when there were hundreds more to look after. They were in the middle of one of their arguments when Riddle stepped out of one of the portals, a medium sized vanity mirror they'd hung on the wall.

"Excuse me, Headmaster?" Riddle called out, causing the men to stop shouting long enough to listen. "You said it was a city street corner, correct?"

"Neon lights and the smell of the ocean, yes." Crowley nodded, crossing his arms.

"I believe I found it."

The two men glanced at each other quickly, silently agreeing to set aside their differences for the moment, and rushed forward to the mirror, letting it pull them through to the other side. They stepped out and landed on a cracked sidewalk atop a hill, neon lights reflecting off the puddles on the road, cars rushing past. Looking back, it seemed their portal had manifested in the window of a shop, the display inside blocking anyone in the store from seeing them suddenly appear in the street.

"This is it." Crowley confirmed before turning to go back through the portal. "I'll go see about getting a search party together and we can--"

Crewel didn't wait for him to finish, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting your name down the street. There was barely any chance you stuck around on this road for four weeks, but he had to try. He didn't notice Crowley step through the portal again, and he paid no mind to the people watching him shouting your name like a mad man. He had to try. They'd found the connection, they'd come this far, you were within reach again, he couldn't just give up now. He wandered down the street, still shouting your name. The sun was setting on this unfamiliar world, he didn't want to risk not being able to find the portal home again for fear of not being able to lead you to it, but he couldn't just give up now. He ran a hand through his already messy hair in distress, eyes darting frantically around at the faces that were passing him by. Where would you have gone if you left? He didn't want to even entertain the idea of the worst having happened. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and his voice had gone hoarse from yelling when he heard it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was over the sounds of the cars rushing past and over the puddles in the road, but it made ears perk up. He looked around again, spinning around to try to find where it had come from when he heard it again, across the street. Your voice.

"Dad?!" You shouted over the rush of the cars, absolutely beaming when he finally made eye contact.

"Pup!" Crewel nearly collapsed in relief, he could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Hold on, I'm coming to you! Just stay there!" You shouted back, bouncing in place for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

He felt the anxiety take hold again once he couldn't see you anymore, but you looked fine. Healthy, not injured, fed, even from a distance he could tell you were okay. He took his moment alone to thank the Sevens for that, if nothing else.

"How did you find me?!" You asked through a laugh as you emerged from the crowd and approached him.

You met his hug with equal fervor as he pulled you tight against him, the relief of having you within arms reach shattering any remaining decorum his sleep deprivation had left him with. He didn't hold you long, however, pulling you back by the shoulders to examine you. He was right. Healthy, not injured, not starving. A little dirty, bags under your eyes, but those could be fixed. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

"We've been looking for you for weeks, Pup." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of the relief. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I tried to get back through the portal but it must've closed behind me." You chuckled as you showed him your knuckles, cuts scabbed over now. "I got pissed off and punched it. I'm just glad I didn't get arrested for breaking the window, honestly."

"You and me both." Crewel shook his head, thinking it just like you. "The mirror shattered when it hit the floor, that's why you couldn't get back. You don't look like you've been sleeping in alleys, at least."

"No, I found a shelter to stay at, and I've been coming back here every day to wait for someone to come get me." You explained quickly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I did." He sighed, putting a hand on top of your head. "I wasn't about to leave you here."

"Thanks Dad." You said quietly, stepping forward to hug him again. He held you close, rubbing your back as he did. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Pup. Let's go home."

Upon your return to Twisted Wonderland, while you were greeting Riddle and Malleus who had just been waiting for you to emerge, Crewel finally realized he could put words to the worry he was feeling during the waiting.

He didn't know how he was supposed to say good-bye to his child once Crowley finally found the right connection to send you home.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fic #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #divus crewel #papa crewel #twst crewel #crewel #professor crewel #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #i actually have no idea how to tag this one yall #mine #sorry I haven't put anything out in a bit it's been a wild week lmaoo anyways enjoy!#edit: reading this back six weeks is a long damn time so i switched it to four lol sorry

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beritybaker · 23 days ago

Text

On One Condition

This is a fluffy little ditty inspired by "We Danced" by Brad Paisley (because I'm a sucker for a good country love song). It is also technically a part of the Right-Side Up universe I've been writing for a while, but works as a standalone.

Rating: G | Tags: No Upside-Down AU, Meet-Cute, Bartender Eddie, Meddling Robin, Slow Dancing | ao3

When the door opened, Eddie was ducked behind the bar, staring into the mini fridge and trying to decide whether he should bother telling Hank they were out of maraschino cherries. He cursed under his breath, kicking himself for not locking up first. The last thing he wanted to deal with was whatever drunk idiot might wander into the Hideout after 2:30 AM.

“We’re closed,” he called out, shutting the fridge as he rose to his full height.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” the intruder said. “I was just wondering…if you found a wallet tonight? Would’ve left it a couple hours ago.”

Eddie was surprised by how coherent the voice was, but that wasn’t what made him frown in pure confusion. Steve Harrington? King Steve? Since when does he come here?

He must have been staring, because Harrington—or the being Eddie was beginning to suspect was his secret twin or something—sounded uncertain when he prompted, “So…did you find a wallet?”

“Uh.” Eddie shook his head to clear it. “I…yes. Yeah.” He’d found it just after midnight, in plain view on the table in the corner. A wallet getting left behind was such a regular occurrence, though, that he hadn’t even bothered to look for an ID yet. He’d been planning on dealing with it after his closing routine. Now, though, he walked to the cash drawer and popped it open, then pulled the wallet out of the special slot he’d designated for such things. It was well-worn, nondescript brown leather, and sure enough, Harrington’s face smiled up at him when he opened it.

“That’s it! Holy shit, you have no idea how happy you just made me,” Harrington cried.

Eddie couldn’t help tilting his head and asking, “What the hell were you doing here, anyway? You a secret punk rocker or somethin’?”

“Ah, no,” Harrington chuckled. All of a sudden, he looked a bit uncomfortable. “I was actually here with a friend. You know Robin Buckley?”

“Sure.”

“She dragged me here because—“ He cut himself off, then simply repeated, “She dragged me here.”

“Right,” Eddie said slowly, drawing the word out. He knew that since working at the ice cream place in the mall together, Harrington and Buckley had been attached at the hip. For some reason, that put Eddie’s mind a little more at ease—even if he was still struggling to suppress every horny teenage thought he’d ever had about the guy as they suddenly resurfaced. He tossed the wallet onto the bar and sighed, “Well. I’ll have to have a talk with her about bringing in the riffraff.”

For a split second, Harrington looked offended. Then he seemed to take in Eddie’s smirk, and he grinned back. “Don’t worry. I think she decided to steer clear of the place from now on.” He didn’t pick up his wallet, instead leaning both hands on the edge of the bar. “Sorry again, Munson. For, you know…barging in while you’re shutting things down.”

He knows my name? “Don’t worry about it, man. You had to find the Amex before your dad noticed it was gone.” Eddie winked to show him it was another joke.

“That’s actually a good point. I was mostly scared of getting pulled over without my driver’s license.”

Harrington’s sheepish grimace stirred something in Eddie. At first he chalked it up to another facet of the physical attraction that had plagued him since they’d been in gym together in school, and he’d been forced to witness King Steve stretching and sweating and prancing around in those little shorts they’d had to wear. After a moment, though, he realized there was something else to it.

Steve Harrington wasn’t just hot as hell. He had the audacity to be charming, too.

Eddie bit his lip. Against his better judgement, and seemingly without input from his rational brain at all, he murmured, “Listen…you wanna stick around while I close? I could use someone to talk to other than the walls.”

Steve blinked, but his obvious surprise quickly gave way to a pleasant smile. “I guess I could use the company, too.” He sat on the nearest stool and leaned both elbows where his hands had been before, cradling his chin in his hands. “I won’t be in your way here, will I?”

“No, you’re fine right there.” Eddie tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Munson?

“No fucking way!” Eddie said. “They fired you guys for it? That’s so fucked up.”

“No arguments here,” Steve giggled.

“That’s why I never saw you there again?”

“Sure is.” He shot Eddie a coquettish wink. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

An hour before, Eddie would’ve been supremely embarrassed at the implication of Steve’s words. But they’d been talking so long by that point that the grin he answered it with was equally flirtatious. “’Course I did. You were the only reason I ever went there.”

“Now that’s unbelievable,” Steve quipped. “You went to the mall just to see me at work and never even talked to me?”

“Sure. I mean, it was really my friend Gareth. Kid loved that U.S.S. Butterscotch monstrosity. But I could’ve made him go alone.”

“You didn’t, though.” Steve smiled in a way that somehow seemed smug and bashful at the same time.

“No, I didn’t,” Eddie agreed, smirking.

He’d taken his time cleaning up the bar; even so, he’d finished half an hour ago. Normally he would’ve been doing a belly flop into his sheets by now, but it turned out talking with Steve was as fun as it had been unexpected, and he was reluctant to put an end to it. Part of him regretted not striking up a conversation on all those visits to Scoops Ahoy—even if reality dictated he never would’ve had the guts to. In truth, Gareth was a conniving little shit who hadn’t dragged him along just for the ice cream.

There was a quiet moment, then Steve said, “Can I tell you something?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. In all their conversation, this was the first time since sitting down that Steve seemed a little nervous. “Sure,” he said again, trying to act like he hadn’t noticed the shift.

“You know how I said I was here with Robin earlier?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, she tricked me into coming here because she knew you were working.”

Eddie stared. “She did?”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed an anxious laugh. “She, uh…she spent a whole hour trying to get me to talk to you, but I didn’t want to bother you while you were on the clock.”

“To be fair, man, talking to people is a pretty big part of the job,” Eddie chuckled.

“The truth is, I kinda have…well, I got a little bit of a crush on you.” Steve’s voice had been getting gradually softer, so that his last words were barely more than a whisper.

Steve Harrington is into me? The Freak? Eddie remained silent, unable to come up with anything intelligent to say.

“I think Robin might’ve even stolen my wallet to make sure I had to come back for it,” Steve grumbled. The way he wrinkled his nose was adorable in a way that made Eddie smile in spite of his utter shock.

Sounds like Gareth and Buckley would get along. That thought, along with the acknowledgement that his own schoolboy crush was alive and well, was what snapped him out of it.

He glanced at Steve’s wallet. It had been sitting on the bar between them since he’d put it there, and they’d all but forgotten it while they’d talked. He looked at Steve again, who was refusing to meet his eye despite the cautiously hopeful expression he wore.

“In that case,” Eddie finally said, grabbing the wallet off the counter and holding it up, “you’re only getting this back on one condition, Harrington.”

Steve finally looked at him, eyebrows raised. “What condition?”

Eddie was already facing the radio behind the bar, raising the volume and tuning it to the easy-listening station that always plagued him in the early-morning hours, when he’d had a long night at work and it was the only one actually playing music. “Dance with me,” he said.

“What?”

“You’ll only get your wallet back if you dance with me.” As he walked out from behind the bar, he stuck the wallet in his back pocket. Then he raised his arms to beckon Steve forward, carefully toeing the line between mischief and warmth.

Standing there with his arms at his sides and his eyelids fluttering rapidly, Steve looked like his brain might start dripping out of his nose. “You wanna…dance?”

“I wanna dance with you,” Eddie corrected.

“Why?”

He snorted. “Because as it so happens, loverboy, I enjoy dancing with pretty people. I’m unique in that way.”

Eddie’s sarcasm seemed to finally draw Steve out of his daze. Slowly, his lips stretched into a wide grin. “I’m pretty, huh?”

“Of course,” Eddie scoffed. He beckoned again, this time raising his eyebrows and jutting out his chin as if to say, Now c’mon, Harrington. We’re burning moonlight!

Still grinning, Steve approached with caution. He gingerly placed his hands on Eddie’s waist, then whispered, “Is this alright?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. He felt himself start to melt under the slight pressure of Steve’s touch. How could he not? He’d been enamored with the guy off and on for no less than three years. Even so, it was a bit of a surprise how something so simple made his heart start hammering like it was trying to break out of his chest. He didn’t let himself think too hard about where to put his own hands; when they landed on Steve’s chest, he murmured, “What about this?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He sounded even more breathless, and his heart was going a mile a minute under Eddie’s palm, too.

For a moment, they just stood with their hands on each other, staring. Eddie was so swept up in studying Steve’s eyes up close—noting the gorgeous way the flecks of gold in his irises caught the low light—that he didn’t notice they’d started swaying until they’d been at it for a while. In fact, the thing that finally brought it to his attention was Steve closing his eyes as his smile took on a dreamy quality.

They gently rocked back and forth, and Eddie’s fingers inched upward, past Steve’s collarbone and all the way over his shoulders, until one of his arms slid around Steve’s back. The other smoothed down his arm, urging it upward until he could catch Steve’s hand in his own. Then he let his head fall forward and tucked his cheek against Steve’s.

As they danced, Eddie closed his eyes, too, intent on taking a mental snapshot of what he considered the most sublime moment any human being had ever been blessed with.

Steve’s hand in his was firm, but soft. Every breath that puffed against Eddie’s ear was a welcome reminder of their closeness. And Steve’s cologne was somehow a perfect complement to the lingering stale-cigarette smell that had never left the Hideout and probably never would.

Eddie barely heard the music at all. Instead, they danced to a rhythm all their own, moving together with perfect ease, and without having to discuss it. It was as if they’d been dancing like that every night of their lives. Eddie never wanted it to end.

It had to, though. He knew it had to. That didn’t make the pressure in his chest or the lump in his throat any easier to bear when Steve slowly leaned away from him and met his eye.

It must have been obvious on his face, because Steve’s smile was full of genuine sympathy. “I should probably be getting home. If my folks get up and they find out I was out all night…”

“No, I…I get it.” Eddie tried to smile back, but cringed internally at how misty-eyed the whole thing was making him. For fuck’s sake, Munson. You were just dancing. Get a grip.

“Thanks for asking me to stay,” Steve said.

“Thanks for leaving your wallet,” Eddie countered, managing a smirk.

Steve made a small, startled sound, like he’d forgotten about the whole reason they’d been dancing in the first place—the whole reason he’d ended up at the Hideout after close. In the next instant, his cheeks turned pink. The reaction was encouraging, Eddie had to admit.

Without a word, and without pulling his gaze away from Eddie’s, Steve leaned closer. For a brief, lightheaded moment, Eddie thought he was about to kiss him. But then he rocked backward again, and he lifted his hand between them, holding up the wallet he’d just pulled from Eddie’s pocket.

“Oh,” Eddie breathed, before he could stop himself. Disappointment, relief, and mild embarrassment swirled through his head, making him blush, too.

Steve chuckled. As he backed away fully, his free hand seemed reluctant to part from where it was still perched on Eddie’s waist. He made his way to the door, but turned around with the same hand on the knob. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Do you always work on Saturdays?”

Eddie was so focused on the subtle sway of Steve’s hips—one he swore hadn’t been there when he’d walked in—that it took him far longer than it should’ve to answer Steve’s question. His cheeks grew even warmer as he stammered, “Uh, y-yeah. Usually.”

Steve grinned. “Good to know,” he said. Then he slipped out the door and into the sun’s first light.

It became a ritual. Every Saturday, Steve would come by for a drink and “forget” something, so that he could come back after everyone else was gone to retrieve it. Most often it was his wallet or a jacket. One time he managed to play off leaving his keys and not coming back for them until two whole hours had passed.

And every Saturday, after conversations that began to lengthen exponentially, Eddie would playfully remind him that he wasn’t going to be leaving with all of his belongings unless he agreed to a dance.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to stop bothering with the radio. They didn’t need it anyway.

One thing did take a while, though, and it was thanks to nerves more than anything else. Nearly two months after their first dance, Eddie murmured the words right into Steve’s ear as they made yet another slow turn across the bar: “Do you want to go out sometime?”

He felt Steve’s cheek shift against his as he smiled. “On a date?”

“Yeah. A real one.”

“I’d like that.”

“What would you want to do?” Eddie asked.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “What about dinner?”

“I’d like that,” Eddie echoed. It earned him an equally playful pinch to the ribs.

“After that, we could rent a movie. Go back to my place to watch it since my parents are out of town,” Steve went on. His voice was heavy with implication.

Well. Eddie wasn’t about to say no to that. He swallowed the urge to start jumping up and down, only barely managing to rein in his excitement when he said, “Are you free on Tuesday? That’s my next day off.”

“I can get Robin to cover for me.”

“Good.”

Steve squeezed his hand. His cheek twitched again, and he repeated, “Good.”

“Hope I don’t leave anything at your house by accident.”

He threw his head back as he laughed. “It’s about time I have the home field advantage.”

#steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #author stuff

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lazy-ahh · 2 months ago

Note

HIII !! :0 we've spoken before but I've only realized now I haven't been requesting things anonymously (omg I'm stupid I know lmao) :3 uhmmm here's another idea but it's more of a prompt lol, you can do whatever you want with it :)

Jason or reader : “You stayed.”

Jason or reader : “I’m still deciding if that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

LIKE WE WERE KIDS AGAIN

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

"you stayed," you murmur, voice cracking like the childhood promises you both broke. jason doesn’t answer—just holds you tighter, as if his arms could undo years of hurt. (they can’t. but tonight, with your laughter muffled against his chest and his fingers tangled in yours, maybe "broken" doesn’t have to mean "unfixable.")

taglist @kasarian , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

the first time jason sees you again, he’s supposed to kill you.

the warehouse is burning around you both, smoke curling thick in the air, the scent of gasoline and gunpowder clinging to the back of his throat. he’s here on orders—some lowlife crime lord’s hired muscle needs to be put down, and the red hood doesn’t ask questions. not anymore.

but then he sees you.

you’re standing in the middle of the wreckage, blood smeared across your split knuckles, a gun dangling loosely from your fingers like you’ve forgotten how to hold it. your eyes are hollow, glazed over—like you’re not really here. like you’ve been carved out and left empty.

he doesn’t recognize you at first. not with the way your shoulders hunch inward, like you’re trying to disappear. not with the way your hands tremble around the grip of the gun, finger twitching near the trigger like you’re fighting the urge to use it. but then you turn, just slightly, and the flickering firelight catches the curve of your cheekbone—the same one he used to poke when you were kids, laughing when you’d swat his hand away and call him an idiot.

"no fucking way," he breathes, the words punched out of him.

you don’t react. your gaze slides right past him, vacant, like he’s just another shadow in the room. like he’s not the boy who used to sneak you candy under the dinner table when your parents weren’t looking, who promised to protect you from monsters under the bed.

(he failed, didn’t he? because here you are—another ghost in a world that chews up kids like you and spits them out. and now you’re standing on the wrong side of his gun, working for the same bastards he’s been hired to wipe out.)

your lips part, just slightly, and he thinks you might say something. but then your jaw clenches, and something dark flickers in your eyes—betrayal. because of course you’ve heard the stories. the red hood doesn’t hesitate. the red hood puts bullets in skulls without a second thought.

and here he is, staring you down like you’re just another target.

(you don’t know that his finger’s frozen on the trigger. that his chest is so tight he can’t breathe. that all he can think is—what the hell happened to you?)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

the second time, he corners you on a rooftop.

the wind howls between you, sharp enough to cut, and jason’s boots scrape against gravel as he steps forward. you’re backed against the ledge, panting, one hand pressed to your side where blood seeps through your fingers—a bullet graze, too close for comfort. the red helmet hides the way his throat bobs, the way his teeth grind together at the sight.

you’re hurt.

the realization hits him like a punch to the gut. he’d chased you across half the city, fury burning through his veins because how could you—but now that he’s here, all he sees is the way your knees wobble, the way your breaths come too fast, too shallow. like you’re one wrong move from collapsing.

"what the hell are you doing?" he growls, voice distorted through the modulator, harsher than he means it to be.

you blink at him, slow, like you’re struggling to focus. the moonlight catches the sweat on your brow, the blood smeared across your cheek. when you speak, your voice is rough, exhausted. "surviving."

like it’s obvious. like it’s the only thing left in the world that makes sense.

and jason—

jason wants to scream.

because this isn’t you. the you he knew would’ve flinched at the sight of blood, would’ve squeezed his hand too tight when you crossed the street, would’ve cried when you scraped your knee on the playground and let him carry you home. the you he knew had laughed so loud it echoed, had tucked wildflowers into his pockets when he wasn’t looking, had been alive.

but the person in front of him now?

they don’t even blink as they wipe their bloody hands on their jacket, smearing red across the fabric like it’s nothing. like pain is just another part of the routine.

(he remembers, suddenly, stupidly—the way you’d cling to his sleeve when you were scared. the way you’d whisper don’t let go even when there was nothing to be afraid of.)

"you’re working for them," he accuses, stepping closer. his voice cracks, just slightly. "the same bastards who—"

"i don’t have a choice," you interrupt, voice brittle, breaking.

your hands shake. not from the cold. not from the wound.

from fear.

(he hates how small you sound. hates it even more because he knows, now, that you’ve been afraid for a long, long time.)

for a heartbeat, neither of you move. the city sprawls beneath you, all flickering lights and distant sirens, but jason doesn’t hear any of it. all he hears is the ragged sound of your breathing. all he sees is the way your shoulders curl in, like you’re waiting for a blow.

you think i’m going to hurt you.

the thought makes something in his chest splinter.

(he should. he should. that’s what the red hood does. that’s what he came here for.)

but then you sway, just slightly, and without thinking, his hand shoots out—fingers wrapping around your wrist to steady you.

your skin is cold.

(he doesn’t let go.)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

the third time, he finds you in a shitty motel room, and the sight cracks something open in his ribs.

the air smells like stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, the kind that burns your nose if you breathe too deep. you're curled into yourself on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them like you're trying to hold yourself together. the dim yellow light from the flickering lamp paints everything in sickly shadows—the hollows under your eyes, the dried blood on your sleeve, the way your fingers dig into your own arms hard enough to leave bruises.

on the nightstand, a half-empty bottle of whiskey sits next to a gun.

(jason's stomach turns. he knows what that means. knows what you were thinking when you put it there.)

you don't fight when he sits beside you. don't even look up. just keep staring at the cracked wall across from you, blank, like you're already gone. like you were waiting for death, and he's just the grim reaper finally showing up to collect.

(he wants to shake you. wants to pull you into his arms. doesn't know which would hurt more.)

"why?" he asks, softer this time. voice rough like he's the one who's been crying, even though your eyes are dry.

your lips twitch—something that might’ve been a laugh in another life. it cracks apart before it even leaves your throat, splintering into something raw and wounded, more like a sob caught between your teeth. your fingers curl into the thin motel sheets, knuckles white, as if clinging to them could keep you from falling apart completely.

"they promised they'd kill me if i didn't." your voice is barely there, scraped thin from screaming or silence—he can't tell which. then, softer, breaking: "i couldn't let them do that... not without seeing you for the last time."

the admission hangs in the air between you, fragile as the dust motes drifting in the dim light. jason feels it like a knife to the ribs—because you thought you were going to die, and your last thought was him.

jason's breath catches like his lungs forgot how to work.

suddenly, he's fifteen again—kneeling on hot pavement behind your apartment building, watching through messy bangs as you carefully press batman bandaids over his scraped knees. "hold still, dummy," you'd huffed, but your hands were gentle even when they shook. the cherry popsicle you'd split with him earlier dripped sticky-sweet on your chin, and when he laughed and wiped it away with his thumb, your cheeks went pink as the sunset. in that moment, twelve-year-old jason thought, with startling clarity: i'd follow you anywhere. die for you if i had to.

the memory burns worse than the whiskey in his gut. because now he knows—you never wanted this. never chose the blood staining your hands or the hollows under your eyes. you'd been stolen, just like he was. broken, just like he was.

(he should've known. should've seen the signs sooner—the way your hands trembled even when empty, the way your eyes kept darting to exits like you expected hands to grab you any second. god, how many times had you looked at him, silently screaming for help he didn't recognize?)

the mattress creaks as he shifts closer. his hand hovers over your shoulder, trembling with the weight of every unsaid thing between you. when his palm finally settles against the thin fabric of your shirt, he can feel your heartbeat rabbiting beneath—alive, alive, alive against all odds.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, and it's not enough. will never be enough for all the ways he failed you.

(he doesn't specify what for. the list is too long: for not protecting you. for thinking you'd gone bad. for that last summer before everything burned—when he'd peeked through your bedroom window and saw you muttering to your reflection, practicing how to say "i like you" with reddening ears. he'd nearly fallen off the fire escape grinning, thinking just say it already, i'll say it back, never knowing your confession would be stolen along with everything else the next day.)

you finally look up at him, eyes wide and lost, and jason thinks—

oh.

there you are.

somewhere beneath the blood and bruises and broken pieces, beneath the flinches and the fear and the face you've had to wear to survive—you're still you. the same kid who patched his wounds and shared your popsicles and looked at him like he hung the moon.

and despite the pit's rage, despite the bullets and the bodies and the years of pretending he's someone else—he's still him too. still the boy who promised to keep you safe.

(he won't fail you again.)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"you stayed," you murmur into the quiet, finally meeting his gaze through the dim light. the words taste fragile on your tongue, like they might break if you speak too loud.

he exhales, rough around the edges. "i'm still deciding if that's the dumbest thing i've ever done," he says, but there's no bite to it—just that familiar teasing lilt that makes your chest ache.

(you remember him saying the same thing at twelve when he climbed your fire escape with a black eye, grinning through split lips because he'd "won" the fight. you'd called him an idiot then too.)

but he doesn't leave. doesn't even shift away when you curl tighter into yourself, knees digging into your ribs like you're trying to disappear.

"hey." his finger pokes your cheek—just like when you were kids. "stop that. you're thinking too loud."

you blink up at him. "i'm not a—"

"a gremlin? yeah, you are." his grin is all teeth, the same one he'd flash when stealing your lunchbox snacks. "always were. remember when you tried to eat mrs. mackey's science project because you thought it was jello?"

a startled laugh punches out of you. "it looked like jello!"

"it was a dissection specimen, you menace."

"you ate some too!"

"only after you dared me, you little—"

the rest gets swallowed by your shriek as he suddenly tackles you, fingers digging into your ribs exactly where you're most ticklish. the sound that comes out of you is half-laugh, half-sob, startled and bright after so long without.

(just like that summer when you'd both gotten caught in the rain, how he'd carried you piggyback through the downpour while you shrieked about his cold hands sneaking under your jacket to tickle you.)

you retaliate by shoving your icy feet against his calves, grinning at his yelp. "cheater!" he gasps, but he's laughing too, really laughing, the sound warm and rough and so painfully familiar it makes your eyes burn.

somewhere between breathless wrestling and poorly-aimed pillow attacks, you end up with your face smushed against his chest, his arms locked around you like he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. the quiet settles over you both, comfortable in a way nothing has been in years.

"missed this," you mumble into his shirt. the admission feels dangerous.

his heartbeat stutters under your ear. "...yeah."

(he remembers your thirteenth birthday, how you'd fallen asleep just like this during your movie marathon, how he'd stayed perfectly still for hours just so he wouldn't wake you. how he'd thought, with terrifying certainty: this. i want this forever.)

your fingers curl into his sleeve on their own accord, clinging like you're eight again and afraid of thunderstorms. jason's breath hitches—then his hand comes up to card through your hair, gentle in a way the red hood never is.

"stay?" you whisper, already half-asleep.

his arms tighten. "'til you're sick of me."

(he means forever. you both know it.)

2.2k full of jason todd and reader being traumatised together...! yippe...! .... AHHHHHH WHY DO I EVEN DO THIS TO MYSELF??? and also, don't worry mysterious anon, you're not stupid at all, don't you EVEN think about it >:[ hope you enjoyed this teehee! <3

#lazy-ahh #dc comics #red hood #jason todd #gender neutral reader #red hood x reader #red hood x gender neutral reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #JASONNNN #i need to be writing more for jason ngl #JASOOOONNNNN #poor jason and reader my poor babies #JASOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN #hope y'all enjoyed this as much as i did teehee #JAAAAAAAASSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN

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inkedinshadows · 5 months ago

Text

In the Arms of Dawn

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

A/N: aaa I'm finally sharing these eheh! Thank you @anarchiii for this request, I loved writing it (and hopefully it's enough to be forgiven for my last fic?🥺) As usual, I yapped lol

Prompts: "Get up. This is not place to die." + "I don't know how to do this without you." + "Don't tempt me." + angst + smut

Warnings: blood, injuries, nightmares, oral (f receiving), p in v

Word count: 2.3k

Cassian lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash in his stomach.

His hands pressed down on the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers and pooled beneath him, staining the dusty ground.

Your own hands were covered in red from trying to help him, but to no avail. You didn't have healing magic and you couldn't even winnow. The battle still raged not too far from where you had managed to drag him, and you had no idea where Rhys, Azriel, or even Mor were. No one was coming to help you save your mate.

“You can't die,” you pleaded, cradling his face between your hands, not caring that you were smearing his cheeks with blood.

His eyes fluttered open, but all that escaped his lips was a groan.

“You can't die,” you repeated. “Cass, please…”

The tears you had been trying to hold back finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks, but you refused to let that stop you. You would find a way to save him. You had no idea how, but begging and pleading wouldn't get you anywhere.

“You have to leave,” Cassian rasped, his pained gaze meeting your desperate one. His breaths came in sharp pants, but he still forced the words out. “Get somewhere… somewhere safe.”

A flicker of anger sparked in your chest. “Don't start,” you snapped. “I'm not abandoning you.”

“Y/N…” he tried again, but you shook your head before he could say another word.

“No.”

A new determination took hold of you. Cassian wasn't going to die—not on your watch. But you had to be strong for both of you before the situation became even worse.

“Get up,” you ordered, your voice now steady and firm. You wiped away your tears, probably smearing some of his blood on your face, but you didn't care. “This is no place to die. Now get up.”

Cassian blinked once in confusion at your sudden change of approach before attempting to move, pushing himself up on one elbow. It was all he could manage with one hand still pressed tightly to his stomach.

“I… I can't,” he groaned. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if that small movement had drained what little strength he had left. “I'm sorry…”

Fine, then. If he couldn't get up on his own, you would carry him back to camp. He was too tall and heavy for you to make it on your own, and it would have been a struggle even without the broken wing dragging behind him, but you'd be damned if you gave up on him.

“Alright,” you breathed. “We'll find another way.”

You studied him—the larger wounds, the smaller ones, the right place to put your hands so you could lift him. In the end, you settled on placing one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapping one of yours around his waist.

“I need you to help me with this, okay?” you urged him. You waited for him to nod before continuing. “On three, we stand up. Can you do that?”

Cassian nodded again, though weakly. “I'll try.”

You counted slowly, giving him time to gather a little more strength, and then you both pushed up with your legs. Cassian let out an agonized scream and you stumbled under his weight, but you held on. Your arm tightened around his waist while your other hand gripped the arm he'd draped around your shoulders.

But you were shorter than him and carrying the full weight of a grown Illyrian warrior all the way back to camp seemed impossible.

“One step at a time,” you decided. “But we have to move fast. You just keep your hand on that wound, alright?”

You had no idea how you kept your voice so steady as you took charge of the situation. Maybe it was desperation pushing you to act—to use your brain instead of simply crying like you wanted to do.

To his credit, Cassian tried. He was struggling, you knew that. Each step drew a pained groan from his throat and his wings dragged through the dirt. Blood still spilled from his stomach like water from a leaking faucet. But you both pushed on.

You didn't make it far.

Cassian's steps faltered after only a few feet. “My love…” he croaked, and then he was slumping forward—so suddenly that you didn't have time to steady him.

He collapsed to the ground with a thud and a whimper. You dropped to your knees beside him, turning him onto his back so you could help him up again.

But his eyes were closed and he was panting. You placed your hands over his, pressing down on the gash. His warm, sticky blood coated your fingers once more.

“Cassian,” you called, somehow managing to not lose control—yet. “Cassian, c'mon, open your eyes.”

His lids fluttered, but they didn't open. He didn't say a word. And as the gravity of the situation sank in, so did the despair.

You couldn't get him back on his feet without his help. And even if you did, the camp was half a mile away. You wouldn't get there in time to make a difference. You probably wouldn't get there at all.

“Open your eyes, Cassian,” you tried again, your voice now carrying a hint of the desperation twisting your gut. “Just open your eyes…”

Nothing. No movement, no response. And then you realized—he had passed out from blood loss.

At least he was still breathing. At least you had that.

But what could you do now?

“Please don't die,” you whispered, tears spilling over once more. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the faint, unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Please, I… I don't know how to do this without you…”

Cassian's voice rang in your head like an echo. “Open your eyes.”

You shook your head, eyes still shut as you held him close. His voice sounded so far away, like he was already slipping away from your grasp. And why was he asking you to open your eyes when he was the one who wouldn't?

Then you heard it again, but this time it was all around you, as if he were whispering in your ear but also shouting from afar.

He was repeating your name. Over and over, like a plea.

And then, two more words.

“Y/N, wake up!”

With a jolt, your eyes snapped open. Cassian hovered over you in the faint morning light, his hands on your shoulders as he tried to shake you awake. A wave of relief washed over his concerned expression when he realized he had finally pulled you from your sleep.

“You're alright, sweetheart,” he reassured you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks and you realized only then that you were crying. “It was just a nightmare.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him back down next to you. You curled up against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck while he wrapped you in his arms. His warmth and familiar scent seeped into your senses, soothing you just a little.

For the past ten days, you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that this was the dream: being here with him, both of you alive and well. It had taken him a whole week to heal and you'd spent the entire time next to his bed. But he had been barely conscious, and the nightmares had come to haunt your sleep. It was always the same memory, over and over again.

As soon as he was back on his feet, Cassian had taken you to the secluded cabin in the woods you'd bought together years ago. But even spending the last few nights snuggled up with him had done little to help—to the point that you didn't need to say a single word for him to know what the nightmare was about.

“I'm right here,” he murmured into your hair. “Az found us in time, remember? I didn't die.”

You could feel his pulse from where your head rested against his neck. You let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat envelop you like a reassuring reminder of the life still thrumming inside him, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

Cassian stroked your hair and your back, leaving gentle kisses on the crown of your head and whispering tender words in your ear. He gave you time to sort your thoughts out on your own, but he was still there for you, whatever you needed. Just like he always was.

“I guess I’m still scared sometimes,” you whispered after a few minutes. “That the nightmare is real and that this…” You gestured to your entangled bodies. “This is the dream.”

His hands cupped your cheek, lifting your head from the crook of his neck. His eyes were soft when they met yours.

“This isn’t a dream, sweetheart. It’s real.” He peppered your face with kisses, from your temple to your lips. “And I can prove it to you.”

Despite the small smile his onslaught of kisses brought to your face, you frowned. “How?”

Cassian just smirked, and you had to hold back a laugh as you shook your head. “Don’t tempt me, Cass.”

He looked surprised at your response. Pulling back slightly, he raised his brows. “Wait,” he said, “you would be up for it?”

He had been clearly joking then, if your reply had caught him off guard. But as you thought it over, you wouldn’t say no to some intimate time with him. Cuddling was nice, but maybe this was what you needed to stop the memories from haunting you. Cauldron knew how long it had been since the last time you had slept together.

“As you said,” you replied with a smile, “it’s a good way to prove that this is real. And I also miss it.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and he pulled you closer. “Then let me prove just how real and alive I am,” he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a deep kiss.

He pushed off the sheets and rolled onto you, caging you between his body and the mattress. His mouth moved to your collarbone and you let it ground you in the present, in this very moment. Your mate was here, kissing you, touching you, slowly pushing your nightgown up.

You lifted your arms to help him take it off and his hands caressed your body as he leaned back to kneel between your legs. You watched him pull off his shirt, but your eyes immediately settled on the new scar on his stomach. You had seen it before, but something twisted in your gut anyway.

Cassian noticed the direction of your gaze and covered it with a broad hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, waiting for you to look up at him before he went on. “Don’t think about it, sweetheart. I promise I’m fine.”

He dipped his head between your parted legs, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, each one sending a shiver through you. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You nodded, trying to relax more. You knew he was right. He was fine now. Yet clearing your mind was easier said than done.

Until Cassian’s tongue flicked out.

He took his time, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate strokes. His hands caressed up and down your thighs before they settled on your hips, his touch firm yet reverent. The lingering tension in your body melted away with every lick, every brush of his fingers, until quiet moans filled the room and the only thing you could think of was his skilled mouth working you toward release.

But Cassian pulled away too soon.

He crawled back up your body, bracing himself on his elbows at the sides of your head, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Have I proven it yet?”

You hummed, brows knitted together as you pretended to think about it. “No, not really,” you answered with a teasing smile. “I think I need more evidence before I make my decision.”

“Do you now?” he countered, his smirk only growing. He shifted slightly, and then you felt him—his cock, hard and ready, pressing against your core. With a shallow thrust, he pushed inside, drawing a little whimper from you. “Is this what you were thinking?”

“Exactly this,” you murmured. You pulled him down for a kiss and when your lips touched, Cassian began to move.

It was slow, as if you were both trying to reconnect with each other. His hands caressed your face, your hair, while yours roamed his back, pulling him close like you never wanted to let go. His wings cast deep shadows across the room, blocking out most of the shy rays of the rising sun, and an ethereal golden light danced across his beautiful features.

If it weren't for the pleasure rising inside you as you moved together, you would have sworn this was just another dream. But now you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was real.

“I love you,” you breathed in between kisses.

Cassian pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

You moaned, but the sound was swallowed by another kiss. And as Cassian made love to you, you knew the memories would finally remain where they belonged.

Not in the present, waking you in the middle of the night.

But in the past.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian fluff #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #angst #smut #one shot #fanfiction #requested

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

always struggling

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'struggling'

rated t | 971 words | no cw | tags: steddie, post-break up, modern era, open ending but assume they get back together, pre-famous corroded coffin

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

“How are we still short?” Jeff mumbled under his breath.

Eddie heard him, though, and his heart sank in his chest.

“We don’t have enough.” It wasn’t a question.

Jeff shook his head.

They both looked at Gareth and Frankie unloading the van. Usually, they all took care of their own equipment, but all of them had been too impatient to find out how much they made, so Jeff and Eddie rushed inside their house to count.

They needed $268 more to pay for their travel to the festival that could actually put them in front of the right people. That’s it. $268.

And they only made $197 from their show at the bar downtown.

“So we can’t go.”

Jeff shook his head. “Not unless you can come up with $71 by tomorrow morning.”

Eddie knows if he went to Wayne, he’d find a way. He’d break open a piggy bank or withdraw from his retirement savings. He’d ask for an advance on his paycheck. Whatever it took to help Eddie achieve his dreams.

But he’d done that enough.

Jeff’s parents already covered the cost of Jeff to go, and Frankie’s parents had refused to encourage his ‘rockstar behavior.’ Gareth’s mom didn’t have anything left over after paying for his twin sisters’ back to school supplies and clothes.

“You could call-“

“No.”

Jeff nodded solemnly. “Right.”

Eddie couldn’t call Steve. Steve had helped buy him a new guitar and fix his van before their inevitable crash and burn when Eddie decided to move to Chicago and Steve wasn’t ready. He hadn’t spoken to him in months. He couldn’t call him up and ask for money.

“Maybe I could take a shift at the diner tonight. If I take the big tables, it might be enough in tips,” Jeff offered. “We could busk?”

“You know we never make good money doing that. Nobody likes the noise.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to try again next year. We can keep playing the bars.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Neither of them noticed Frankie or Gareth standing behind them, listening in to the dilemma.

“We didn’t make enough?” Gareth asked somberly.

“Sorry, kid. Just a bit short,” Jeff said over his shoulder.

“This is bullshit!” He yelled.

“Gare-“ Eddie started to say, standing to try to comfort him.

“No! I’m sick of struggling so much. We’re good. We deserve to be there.” Gareth continued. “We’re going.”

“Dude, we can’t just print more money.”

Gareth turned to Eddie, fire in his eyes, hands clenched into fists.

“Suck up your damn pride and call Steve. He told you if you needed anything to call him. Call him.” He stormed to his room and slammed the door.

Eddie would do anything for his band, his friends. He knew missing this festival could be one of his biggest regrets.

“Eddie, it’s fine. Gareth-“

“Is right. I should call him.”

Eddie didn’t wait for them to try to convince him otherwise. He walked to his room and closed the door, trying to figure out how to have this conversation with a man he was definitely still in love with.

No way to prepare, really.

He pulled up Steve’s name in his contact list and pressed call before he could stop himself.

It rang three times before Steve answered.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

God, he’d missed his voice.

“Hey Steve. Sorry if I’m interrupting anything-“

“No! It’s just family movie night, but they’re all arguing about what movie to pick anyway. How’s everything?” The sound of a door closing and silence in the background followed his question.

“Um. Well.” Just spit it out. “We have a really great opportunity at Iron and Metal Fest? It’s in Seattle, and we’ve been trying to save up to go, but we uh, we fell a little short and the deadline to let them know we can play is tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. How short?”

“$71.”

“I’ll Venmo you. Will that be okay?” Steve sounded like he’d switched the phone to speaker, probably to open the app on his phone.

Eddie didn’t deserve him, never did. A man who was willing to give up happiness so Eddie could chase his dreams, offering to help make them happen despite Eddie breaking his heart.

“Steve, I-“

“It’s okay, Eds. It’ll be worth it when you’re on a sold out tour someday, right?”

Eddie ignored the vibration of a notification as his eyes welled up with tears.

“I hope so.”

There was silence for too long.

“You still wanna be a rockstar, right?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“I do!” He really did. “I just didn’t think we’d have to struggle this much in a city made for bands like us.”

“It’ll be a great interview for Rolling Stone.”

“How do you have so much faith in us?”

“I have faith in you, Eds. Always have, always will. You’re gonna make it.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Nah.” Someone knocked on the door and Steve whispered something to them before speaking to Eddie again. “Hey, I have to go. But I hope you wow everyone at that festival, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Stevie.”

When he checked his notifications, Steve had sent him $500.

He cried for 20 minutes before he went and told the guys.

****

The show was incredible and Eddie had never been more miserable.

The guys were on a high no drug could match, but Eddie was sinking further into a pit of despair.

“Never known you to look this sad after a show.”

Eddie’s head shot up to see Steve standing against a few extra speakers backstage.

“Steve? What’re you doing here?” Eddie walked closer, worried he was seeing things.

“Couldn’t miss your biggest show yet. Hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie smiled, feeling some of the heavy weight lift from his shoulders. “Yeah.”

#corroded coffin #corrodedcoffinfest #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things

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tsukimefuku · 8 months ago

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don’t get too scared, or else you’ll moan :: satoru gojo

You and your boyfriend decide to go to the movies for Halloween, and things get a little out of hand — or on it, you might say. His hand.

content warning: MDNI. fem!reader, exhibitionism, public, fingering, use of popcorn bucket as decoy, muffling sounds with sloppy kissing. Somewhat proofread.

wc: 840ish

notes etc: a small contribution for the kinky spooky season, hehe. I'm slowly putting a dent into the smutty drabbles prompts, will tackle a few more this upcoming week

“Can you be good for me?”

Satoru's whispered purr came with a hint of mockery to it, and you held on the armrest for dear life with one hand, while the other plastered all over your mouth to prevent any squeak from escaping and denouncing your less than appropriate lewd activities to every other person in the vicinity.

The shit-eating grin he had on his face and his twinkling azure eyes under the dimly lit movie theater gave you half a mind to slap him - that is, if you could think.

The seats were mostly empty as a B-grade horror movie flashed through the screen, but you hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening on the screen. Not when Satoru was knuckle-deep into your drenched, slick folds and you did your absolute best to bite down every sound involuntarily bubbling up your throat.

“What… d-do you mean…?” you managed to strangle out under your breath, your voice rasp and hurried before your words had the chance to become a needy whimper.

It was an arduous task.

Satoru curled his fingers inside you, his rough digits pressing over your sensitive spot intently, which had you jumping in surprise. The bucket of popcorn that was over your lap almost got tossed on the ground, and some of your neurons were still functional enough for you to grab it before it fell with prickling, quivery hands.

“You have to hold the popcorn, pretty girl,” he cooed lowly, leaning close enough for his breath to fan over your earlobe, “or else we might have an accident.” Satoru followed his remark with a tiny chuckle, and was clearly deriving a huge amount of fun to have you an absolute mess of bated moans and trembling muscles, every tiny falter to keep yourself afloat a small victory to him. Even if the uncomfortable strain in his own slacks was growing more intense by the second.

You struggled to keep your eyes open and directed at the screen while his fingers worked their way inside you, their ridges massaging you from within, pumping and prodding purposefully all around your favorite spots.

By this point, you had already made a complete mess of slick dripping in between your thighs, over your panties - which were haphazardly pushed aside -, his palm and the part of your skirt you were still sitting on.

You wondered how the hell you’d manage to leave the movie theater like that, but the pleasure was more than enough to keep your mortification at bay, at least for now.

The bastard sat completely unfazed by your side, staring straight ahead as he pretended to watch The Evil Something 3 while his hand was shoved up your cunt, pistoning his fingers into you like there was no tomorrow.

Eventually you just gave up on trying to pretend watching the movie, resting your face over his shoulder, letting out a sequence of tiny gasps and pleas of his name that Satoru was sure to drink in pridefully.

A familiar heat began to prickle its way down your body, and tightened down all over your abdomen. With a sense of urgency, you drew your face upwards to look at him, your skin covered with a thin coat of glistening sweat as you realized in dread you wouldn't be able to bite down this.

"S-satoru... I-I'm..." you tried, as your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers, while the bumpy ridges of his fingertips brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"And you can't keep it down?" he cooed playfully, his voice more sultry than he expected it to come out, as he leaned his face over to meet yours. His eyes gazed at you the way you'd expect him to look upon receiving his favorite candy as a gift.

In this case, your sweet, pretty sounds.

"Moan into my mouth then."

You didn't have time to answer. In a few seconds, you were cumming all over his hand, and your moans got muffled by his tongue, that he unceremoniously shoved into your mouth and intertwined in yours. You were at least spared the small mercy of your high coinciding with an incredibly loud jumpscare moment, that in exchange also robbed other people of screams and curses - just about enough for you two to not draw much attention towards your lewd activities.

Slowing his pace, he finally pulled his hand from the middle of your thighs, and didn't break eye contact as he put his fingers over his tongue to lick away your candied slick. You swore you came a little just from the sight of it.

Limp and spent, you let your full body weight rest on him, and Satoru welcomed you into his warmth with an arm around your shoulders.

"What is going on now?" you inquired out of breath, asking him about the movie.

"As if I would know," he chirped, kissing the top of your head as you proceeded to finish watching a movie none of you had watched the first forty minutes of.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru smut #Gojo x reader smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #female reader #fuku writes #tsukimefuku

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berylcups · 4 months ago

Text

Bucci Gang x Reader: How they act when they have a crush

CW: fork stabbing, Trish being a meanie 🥺, spoilers(does that still matter???)

Notes: Hey I decided to do a Bucci gang version of this prompt! I hope it doesn’t seem too rushed: it was supposed to be out BEFORE Valentines Day 🥴 oh well better late than never. 💜 Beryl

Bruno

When the love bug bites Bruno, he holds it in for the sake of professionalism and your safety. To the best of his ability of course.

He gets very protective and uses you missions sparingly. And when you are needed, he is there as your partner. He refuses to let anything happen to you, not just as your Capo but as your secret admirer as well.

He’s the king of chivalry when it comes to you. Of course he takes great care of his team but with you he takes greater care as if you’re as fragile as glass. He opens the door for you, pulls your chair out for you, pours your drinks first, and holds the umbrella for you and demands you stay under it—he doesn’t want you to catch a cold!

He planned on keeping this a secret and just moving on…but ever since that life changing revelation with The Rolling Stones, he must tell you one day before he perishes. He doesn’t want to leave this world wondering what could have been.

Giorno

When Giorno realizes that he has feelings for you, he doesn’t act any differently. But…your days suddenly become a little brighter. You’ll find your favorite flowers addressed to you from a secret admirer. You’ll see friendly stray cats/dogs follow you home from seemingly nowhere. You’ll find your favorite dessert in the fridge for you at the restaurant you all hang out at. So many different things that you can’t explain happening to you without any reason other than to make you smile.

Just being friends/coworkers and watching you from a distance to see your happy face is enough for him. Right now that is.

Abbacchio

When you melt this ice cold goth heart, he’s in denial and he refuses to address it…for a while. He gets jealous easily with seeing the other boys(just Giorno) being around you and interacting with you.

He’s going to swipe you away from the blonde saying he can’t be trusted and demand that he be put on missions with you. He says he’s all about “the mission” but when it comes to your safety, he’s going to put you first! He won’t say it but he definitely does. How many times can you count that he shoved you out of the way from the enemy’s grasp? 20? 30? You should really pay more attention!

Mista

This guy can’t keep a secret no matter how hard he tries. He tries to be a little more hygienic…mainly use more cologne and use deodorant. 🤦‍♀️ He’s tries to be smooth and tries to hit you with a nice pick up line but it he ends up botching it, leaving you in stitches. It’s not what he intended to do but making you laugh works too! He’ll try to refrain from asking weird questions during dinner time. The last thing he wants to do is gross you out and ruin your meal. Trish already thinks he’s gross and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross too. He’s a simple guy and will take things slow. He’ll continue to try and woo you simply by being himself, and if you’re meant for him you’ll fall for him in time.

Narancia

This pure boy wears his heart on his sleeve. When the single brain cell in his head signals that he’s in love, he can barely contain himself. He gets very needy and clingy around you!

He wants to do just about everything with you. He wants to have missions with you, eat meals with you, hang out with you, shop with you, study with you…well, if you call him staring at you and not at the book studying. Fugo is running out of forks you know, you should stop distracting Narancia!

Fugo

It’s pretty obvious that this nerd likes you. His face is always red and he can’t stop stuttering when he tries to talk to you. He’s the smartest member of the group but when it comes to relationships and friendships in general he struggles.

No matter how uncertain he may feel, he’ll do everything to get in your good favors! He wrangles his temper to the best of his ability, (usually by dragging Nara outside where you can’t hear him screaming and beating up the poor boy) and whatever you have a difficult time with or if there’s something you want to get better at, he’s quick to volunteer to be your tutor! Don’t worry if you get any answers wrong, he wouldn’t dream of ever stabbing you with a fork! He has nothing but praises for your hard work and effort.

Trish

When this spicy girl gets a crush on you, she starts to act a bit…spicy. She’ll get annoyed every time you talk, and complain that you’re being annoying. 🥺

She’ll complain about everything even though she, of her own FREEWILL will sit next to you…At the restaurant , the car, the plane, and the sofa. She’ll say you’re sitting too close too her and you’re touching her. Your perfume/cologne is too strong, your music tastes suck, and whine whine whine—-she “doesn't like” you yet she’ll fall asleep and lean on your shoulder like you’re the comfiest pillow ever.

She’ll stop being a little ass and address her feelings eventually.

#jjba #jjba part 5 #jjba x reader #bucci gang x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #leone abbachio x reader #guido mista x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #Trish una x reader #giorno giovanna x reader

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originalgenshinscenarios · 1 month ago

Note

Ok so this is both a platonic prompt for Kachina & romantic prompt for Kinich- the three of you + Mualani are helping Kachina come up with new dessert recipes (to go with her new baking hobby/dream noted from the healing saurian event). While this is going on, Mualani and Kachina help try and set the reader and Kinich up for a date/to potentially become a couple. I was wondering if you could write how this goes and what potential chaos ensues from it? ^^

There's bound to be chaos!

Kachina and Mualani matchmaking reader with Kinich

Reader here is: gender neutral!

Ever since Kachina brought up wanting to bake more, you and your friends immediately went ahead to encourage her.

Little did you and Kinich know... It'd turn into matchmaking sessions.

Mualani kept thinking of excuses to have you two alone. She even sacrificed herself and kept an eye out for Ajaw- who let's be honest- was the biggest nuisance when it came to your possible romantic interactions.

Both her and Kachina were sure that you and Kinich aren't together because you don't get much time alone, just the two of you.

So sending you for errands all the time was something they hoped would work... But it was like having two unmovable objects and waiting for them to collide.

It's not like you didn't like Kinich, in fact the whole matchmaking thing happened because one time you mentioned that you're interested in getting closer to him.

While Kachina tried to keep this information to herself it was really a matter of time before Mualani found out too. Which you aren't upset about... It's just that you didn't intend to act on your feelings.

You were satisfied with what you had already. But you won't lie that being alone with him felt different. You were quick on your feet to deliver ingredients to Kachina, so you didn't really stop for an idle chat. Neither of you felt like the conversation was necessary, just your teamwork doing wonders...

And since that clearly didn't work like the girls intended they had to think of more ways to bring you closer. The issue was that there wasn't exactly much you could do together under the disguise of helping Kachina out.

You all worked together as a team, it was incredibly fun for Kachina but she also really wanted to help you! She didn't want to be rude or invasive by asking you directly about you and Kinich though...

When you decided to prepare something together as a group suddenly Ajaw got tired of Mualani babysitting him.

He was struggling out of her grasp and eventually slipped away... And launched himself at a flour bag stored on a higher shelf.

Before anyone reacted Kachina was head to toe in flour. Mualani immediately offered her help and asked you and Kinich to stay and clean the mess while she takes care of Kachina.

Once the man was done scolding Ajaw and putting him in time-out you went ahead with the cleanup. After a while he spoke up "They didn't have to go that far... What a mess..."

Confused you asked him what was he talking about... Turns out- Mualani promised Kinich to help him so he could chat with you alone. And plotted this plan with the mess and everything. The only unpredictable part was Ajaw- but he's not known for being unpredictable so everything went as planned.

As for Kachina... She agreed to do it because she just wanted to see you and Kinich happy.

He wanted to actually just talk to you normally once you were done hanging out... Buuut Mualani insisted to make it happen as soon as possible, and with Kachina also being aware of the plan it only made things as messy as the floor right now.

So the conversation you had about your (mutual) feelings would've happened tonight either way... It's just that now you have to also clean the kitchen while you do so.

#kinich x reader #kinich #kinich genshin #genshin kinich #kinich genshin impact #genshin impact kinich #mualani #kachina

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enterthetadpole · 2 months ago

Text

Enterthetadpole's "Long Awaited" Solo Completed Sherlock BBC Fandom Stories List

Hi everyone!

Now that I am really trying to put focused effort on completing my WIPs, I have decided it may be helpful to create a list of my (for now) finished solo and collaboration stories in the Sherlock fandom. There will be links below, along with a little blurb about the story, and as an extra bit of fun, I will also add some trivia/BTS about the story itself.

As far as the collabs, they will go in a separate post because my collab partners deserve their own posts for me to gush on and on about.

But first, here are the stories that I have battled alone with the help of many cheerleaders.

Ok then, let's go!

Completed Solo Stories

Far Away From Casual

Summary:

One-night stands aren't something that John does anymore. He's too old and Afghanistan took more out of him than he thought was possible. Unfortunately, a night of laughs and lots of drinks changes things.

Words: 19,828 Chapters: 18/18

Johnlock AU Different meeting. Light and comical with a fairly emotionally mature Sherlock, a "still figuring himself out" John, and Harry, Mike and Mycroft in the mix.

Fun Facts/BTS: I spent the better part of a year and a half just trying to get an idea of what this story was going to be about. It was a Fandom Trumps Hate auction story, and I struggled hard as to a plot to go with. Then finally it came to me one day. The visual was of Sherlock Holmes, asleep in bed , naked with a bruise in the shape of a hand on his ass. I laughed, couldn't get the image out of my mind, and a fic was born!

Just Before Christmas

Words: 1,014 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John left the clinic after a long Christmas Eve shift to come back to a dark and empty flat.

Small little ficlet about the warmth that comes from caring about the people you are with, and how a little tree can make a big difference. John and Sherlock are friends only, with maybe a little bit of wondering under the surface.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story came after a long bit of writer's block that was helped along by me reading the stories of Berty and listening to @podfixx. The inspiration for the tree came from my own little store bought tree gotten that same year. The book cover for this ficlet also is a photo of that same tree.

Through the Silence

Words: 11,547 Chapters: 12/12

Summary:

John watched the best man he ever knew fall from the rooftop of St. Bart's but refused to give up hope that somehow Sherlock may still be alive. If he was, John would find him. No matter what or who stood in his way.

Fairly heavy angst. John Watson in pain and self-destructive. Multiple POV shifts for the first half of the story. Post Reichenbach.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story was a very difficult one for me to write, not because of the subject matter itself, but because of the mood I would need to be in/get into to keep the overall flow of the story intact. The story is one of my first real attempts at more descriptive and poetic prose. Also, perhaps it isn't noticed, but the POV changes to only John's POV after a very specific realization occurs.

The Sh- Word

Words: 1,971 Chapters:1/1

Summary:

What happens when Sherlock accidentally has both a tranquilizer dart and a John Watson in the same flat? Chaos, and perhaps something more.

Pure crack fic. Out of his depth Sherlock and Understandably Oblivious John.

Fun Facts/BTS: This is technically part of a two-part prompt connected to @elldotsee. I actually used my spouse as a "test body" for this story. My spouse is a wonderful person who knows the insane writer they married.

The Theoretical Argument of Cats and Cake

Words: 575 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Cats, cakes, John's exasperation and Sherlock deducing everything. In no particular order.

Small ficlet about John and Sherlock being essentially John and Sherlock. Also featuring Molly's cats.

Fun Facts/BTS: This ficlet was completed at my first @221bcon, and I share Molly's love of cats as a fellow cat mom myself. Have a problem with it? Fight me.

Detachable

Words: 2,563 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John has only been dating Sherlock for three weeks. He doesn't deserve this type of humiliation, and yet here we are. Poor John...

More pure crack. Sherlock being peak Sherlock. John being baffled, embarrassed, but still in it for the long haul.

Fun Facts/BTS: The other ficlet that was directly connected to @elldotsee. There is a podfic that goes with this story that I adore so much. This is also one of the fic pieces I direct readers to who are interested in my stories, but unsure of what to read first. This story is my writing style in a small, digestible package. I suggest not swimming for at least three hours after consumption.

The Christmas Notes

Words: 2,821 Chapters: 25/25

Summary:

Sherlock writes notes to John. John tries not to strangle Sherlock. Insanity ensues.

Grumpy Sherlock. Patient John. Feelings realized through passive-aggressive notes.

Fun Facts/BTS: This was a series of writing prompts by Kat for the Xmas 2020 Collection. It was fun having to think of a different letter idea for every day in December up to Christmas. Would do it again. 10/10 no notes.

A Spark of Clarity in a Very Specific Moment in Time

Words: 927 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John is a very observant man. When one lives with Sherlock Holmes, one has to be...

Another crack ficlet, starring Sherlock's slumbering nudity and John's internal screaming. I regret nothing.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story came to life because of a photo of Benedict as Sherlock sleeping on the BBC Sherlock famous sofa. Sherlock being starkers was added by me. You're welcome.

Dissecting The Universe

Words: 37,163 Chapters: 29/29

Summary:

Series Four of Sherlock and so much pain has left what Benedict and Martin had in nothing but ruins. However, perhaps things can change if a series of events occur to make everything good, bad and unspoken float back up to the surface.

A real person fanfic that I still placed in the BBC Sherlock section because it is Freebatch (Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman) but it is centered around the Sherlock series. Lots of inside jokes and behind the scenes plot points.

Fun Facts/BTS: It was a lot of fun switching between character perspectives in this story, and how Ben and Martin may have dealt with the fandom and fallout. I understand that RPF isn't for everyone, but I did try to make this story as respectful as possible, and none of Ben or Martin's children ever directly appear in the story.

However Improbable

Words: 15,748 Chapters: 15/15

Summary:

Dr. John Watson had been through many things in his life, but can anyone truly prepare for meeting the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes?

This is a different first meeting AU. John is freshly out as Bisexual, and Sherlock is very direct about his feelings. Also Harry has both an attitude and a cat.

Fun Facts/BTS: Harry's cat Ginger ended up becoming a real-life cat for me. We adopted an orange cat about two years after this story began, who ended up being named Ginger before we changed her name to Mousaka. However, unlike the Ginger in the story, Saka is a lot less grumpy but just as feral.

Thank you for taking the time to read my fandom stories. I appreciate all, and reblogging is always such a help. Please let me know if you want to be tagged or not be tagged!

@peanitbear @copperplatebeech @naefelldaurk @dragonnan @lisbeth-kk @sgam76 @kettykika78 @binx72 @butterflygrl62 @dw91165 @izhunny @helloliriels @starkraivennemad @wizama @jobooksncoffee @safedistancefrombeingsmart @totallysilvergirl @johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic @discordantwords @ghostofnuggetspast @notjustamumj @friday411 @calaisreno @mydogwatson @redmondcollege @daziechane @chinike @ninasnakie @whatsnext2020 @writeoutloud @kccarmine @lololollywrites @chocolamousse @kittenmadnessandtea @lolcarina @chriscalledmesweetie @7-percent @jbaillier @missdeliadili @meetinginsamarra @khorazir @cumbercurly-blog @13monkton @thalialunacy @221beloved @johnlockismyreligion @imnova @notjustamumj @a-victorian-girl @onesmallfamily @snowfilly1 @readingwithgwen @izhunny

#fanfiction #johnlock #johnlock fanfic #enterthetadpole #tad is getting organized #bbc sherlock #completed fic #sherlock #mystrade #fandom trumps hate

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prettyforwoso · 1 year ago

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Help Us Understand.

Barca x teen reader

Alexia x teen reader

Lionesses x teen reader

word count: 3500

Summary: y/n, a talented 16-year-old footballer, nicknamed "la princesa," battles the harsh realities of adolescence. Burdened by self-harm scars and body image insecurities, she attempts to hide her struggles from the team. The team uncovers her deepening eating disorder, prompting a collective effort to guide her through recovery.

tw: mention of eating disorders and self harm

Being a teenager in this world is hard. Not only are you working with shitty hormones and breakouts on your face, you also have to put up with the nightmare of other teenagers. Most of them are fine, in fact, what seems to be the worst of it, are the people who are no longer teenagers, and think that’s a valid reason to attack those who are younger and more vulnerable than them. Like you.

You are a lioness, 16, debuting at 15, now playing for Barcelona, a along side your England teammates, Lucy and Keira. You are known as “la princesa.” The nickname came around after your first game for Barca, in which, you scored a Hatrick and pulled a neat assist. the fans linking your talent to Alexia, saying how much you play like her. Quick, rough, strong. You have always been that way.

This nickname sparked a close connection between you and Alexia. She took you under her wing the second you got off the plane in Barcelona. She didn’t like the idea of you living alone in a new country, despite your ability to speak perfect Spanish. So, you lived with her “only for the first few weeks” which has turned into months. Alexia acts like she is trying to help you find an apartment, but isn’t, like secretly loves having you around, seeing so much of her younger self in you. She fusses over you, cares for you, feeds you, scolds you, drives you to school, gets emails from your school. She has stepped into your life and has supported you in every way a mother would.

You have a bad history with self-harm. It was Leah Williamson who noticed it first, well maybe just the first person to speak to you about it, but you don’t know that. You were rooming with her for your first England camp. Nervous about the girls seeing your scars, you were always wearing a long sleeve under your training kit, which at times got hard as it was summer.

A few girls would joke to you, “how are you not boiling?” was the consistent one that just made you want to rip the skin off whoever said it. It was some of the older girls who brought it up with each other at a post-match dinner that you managed to get out of. It was Lucy, Leah, Mary, Beth and Lotte who exchanged their concern, how they never seen your arms, how you were always somehow too busy for ice baths, how you shivered when someone would grab your wrists. They all kept a close eye on you, but decided not to come to any conclusions, as in reality, you were known to be the sunshine and smiles of the squad.

But you weren’t, and deep down, they knew that too.

It all came crashing down one afternoon, when Leah found a bloody rag in the bathroom bin, she investigated further and found your blades in the back of your phone case that you had left on your bed.

She called Beth to your room, who then called lucy, they gathered together in your room, talking about the next steps. The three of them sat in an almost silence, saddened by the conformed truth. They made their plan, not wanting to waste any time.

They found you in the games room, laughing with Ella as you and a group of girls played table tennis.

“y/n, sorry I just need to grab you real quick” Leah said, breaking her observant silence. You were pulled into a room, it all happened so fast. Lucy placing you on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and Beth pulling your phone out of her back pocket. Leah speaking, you didn’t hear any of it, your focus being on Beths hands, taking off your phone case and picking up the tiny metal blades. You just cried and cried as they talked to you, you didn’t say a word, not denying anything. You cried into lucy’s arms as they tried to understand you and your reasoning being the scars. It took some gentle tugging and tears of resistance for your top to be pulled over your head, leaving you in just your bra and pants in Lucys lap as Leah ran a gentle finger across the healed and fresh marks along your arms. Beth moved closer to you, taking your face in her hands, clearly holding back tears of her own.

No one was supposed to know. But when they did, it killed you.

The bad thing about talent is the expectation of performance, and when you underperform, you would be attacked online. The hatred and negativity really got you, and ruined a lot of your confidence and the girls knew that. They knew the comments you would get, about your play, your personality, your body.

The comments about your body were some of the worst, and they didn’t get better when you started at Barca, in fact, they got worse. It was almost like it was all you saw. You would make a post about a game and hardly anyone would speak about how well you played or how many goals you scored. All you would see was the comments about how your body has changed, how you look in the kit, your legs, hips, arms, boobs. It got so bad that you stopped posting all together and turned off all your comments. Soon however, they comments came to the Barcelona Instagram page, and the pages of your teammates. You worked harder that ever. Working out was no longer about training your body to perform and be strong, it became about looking different and making changes to your body physically.

You were running lengths each morning and evening as well as staying back at training. You weren’t fat, or thin, nothing abnormal for a teenager with a changing body. You had bigger boobs than you did 3 months ago, wider hips, thicker thighs, yknow, everything normal, but the fans didn’t think so, and that’s what got the best of you.

Alexia noticed your increase in running and working out but at first brushed it off as you wanting to prove yourself to a new team. But it soon became hard to ignore when you were finding excuses to not eat, the snacks she would buy you because she knew you loved them, sat in the kitchen untouched. She tried to pretend she couldn’t hear you coughing up each meal in the bathroom, more for her own comfort.

It became too much to ignore when others noticed.

“Why are you running so much little one?” Mapi asked you, completely innocently after training one day in the change room. At first you pretended not to hear, until you realised the whole team was awaiting an answer.

“Do you think I’m just naturally the fastest on the team?” you joke back, getting a laugh from her and a few others. Alexia remains stone face, looking as though she could see right through you.

A few of the girls watched you through squinted eyes as you pull your bag over your shoulder, noticing your spine that wasn’t visible last week. They exchange looks amongst themselves as you and Alexia walk towards her car.

“I got a call from your school yesterday” Alexia says, hiding behind her sunglasses as she pulls out of the car park.

“Why” you ask dry as you pull your phone out of your hoodie pocket. Alexias’s silence was inevitable. You turn your head towards her, awaiting a response. She keeps her eyes on the road, rolling her tongue along her top teeth, looking out at the cars ahead in deep thought.

“Why are you hiding from me bebita?” she breaks her silence, with an almost whisper.

“What are you talking about” you snap back in her direction

“You tell me Pequeña, Why do you think your school called, Se honesta conmigo” her eyes didn’t leave the road.

“No sé” you reply, swallowing the truth that lingers on the tip of your tongue, threatening to reveal itself.

“What is going on with you” Sabes que no deberías actuar de esta manera.” She takes a breath, remaining hidden being her bold sunglasses, refusing to look you in the eye, scared of becoming too vulnerable.

The silence was deafening. Pulling up in the driveway, you reach for the car door, your attempt at defusing the situation quickly rejected as Alexia locks the doors, trapping you in a conversation. You refuse to turn from the window, Alexia now being the one begging for eye contact.

“Bebita, look at me” she whispers. Her failed attempt of a resolution resulting in her hand reaching for your long curls, gently moving your head around to see your face. Her breath hitches as she looks at the tears swelling in your eyes, immediately bringing her thumb to wipe them off your soft skin.

“I hate when you yell at me” you begin, chocking on almost every syllable. “Estoy tratando de ser valiente”

“oh cariño ven” she says desperately as she pulls you effortlessly over the centre console and into her lap, wrapping her arms around you. Your tears just get heavier, as you hide your face into her neck, the idea of getting out of the car, now long forgotten.

“Bebita, your school is worried, you are the top student, why are you not doing work? Hay algo que te distraiga? She gently nudges you in her arms as she askes. “I am worried for you, talk to me”.

You just couldn’t bring yourself too. The truth is, you were too distracted for school, for homework, for study. There was so much on your mind right now. The last thing you were worried about was classes that you already knew all the content for. You were hungry, not eating at all, desperate for control over your changing body.

The next dreaded team bonding night came all too soon. Your tried to convince Alexia you were too busy with school but she wasn’t having a bar of it, almost having to drag you out the door and into the car. Nothing you wanted to do more in that moment than curl up in bed with a teddy and your warm blanket Alexia got you for my room in her house. But it was unavoidable. Alexia was correct in the way of you having to be at the dinner, in her perspective it was to show up and be social, for you personally it was about proving the concerned rumours between the girls that you weren’t eating wrong. However, that didn’t exactly go to plan.

Alexia parks in the driveway of Mapi and Ingrid’s home and you follow her inside. You greet all your teammates, receiving a kiss on the cheek and head pat from most of them and they smile down at you.

Since the conversation in Alexia’s car a few weeks ago, she hasn’t let you out of her sight, you didn’t even get into the not eating stuff, but still has watched your every mouthful over the past few weeks. You still had your tricks, not eating when she wasn’t around, running now three times a day on top of training, and all else. You were deteriorating. Dark bags under your eyes and hallowed cheeks.

“Y/n come get some pizza before you sit” Frido pulls you to the kitchen away from the crowd that was the typical team bonding, this felt like a test.

“Oh no, its okay” you scan your surroundings before following up your statement. “Alexia fed me before we came” you smile, attempting to be casual.

“oh, that’s weird, we always have dinner at team bonding” she raised an eyebrow, questioning what felt like your whole existence. She grabs a slice for herself and tries to offer you some anyways, failing as you kindly decline, insisting you will have some later.

People were scattered everywhere around the home, some sitting around the table playing card games, others vacating outside with a drink. You scan the house looking for place to escape to. All you wanted was to leave the overstimulation that was this monthly event.

You head towards the empty bathroom, the room you spend probably the most time in at other people’s houses. You begin to almost run towards it as you hear your name being called. It was too late; Lucy was stood outside yelling your name through the door of the garden.

“Y/n, come talk to us we miss you” she giggles as she enters the room to get you. You begin the walk of shame towards her. Overthinking what is coming next. Stepping out the door onto the porch your gently grabbed by the back of the neck and brought to a group of women standing around. Their faces light up as they see you. The group consists of Mapi, Lucy, Alexia Frido, Jenni and Ona, all sharing a bottle of wine.

“Y/n, you want a drink?” Ona asks, you aren’t sure if she’s joking or not.

“No Ona, she is a child” Jenni interferes and takes the drink Ona is pouring, handing it to Lucy, who puts it down with ease. You crack a smile at the interaction. They think you are so innocent…

“You’re not old enough for a drink yet Bebita, especially on an empty stomach” Alexia jokes with a smile.

“empty stomach?” Frido butts in, tilting her head in confusion at the contradicting information.

fuck.

You let out a load cough to clear your voice before quickly excusing yourself from the conversation. “I need to pee” you announce before hurrying inside, finding Ingrid at the table, playing cards with a few others.

The group, now abandoned by you stand in a deafening silence.

“She’s not eating is she?” Frido breaks, looking at Alexia with wide eyes.

“Shes not doing good, no” Their captain reply’s looking down at the glass in her hand.

“So we were right” Mapi says through squinted eyes as she tightened her grip on the stem of her wine glass.

Most of the team has been talking for a few weeks now. Lucy briefly filled them in about your history with Self harm and how you were managing it now. But the not showing up to meal times and doing overtime in the gym was something she couldn’t explain. However, they soon linked it to the bullying from people online about your body. It became to much for them all when Alexia broke down in front of them, claiming her worry for you. It was clear there was a bigger picture to what you were letting them see, seeing as their usually stone faced, strong captain had tears in her eyes over you.

Your rapid weight loss didn’t go unnoticed, even coaching staff beginning to threaten benching you if you didn’t gain some weight, claiming you were too weak to continue at full trainings and games. You always just told them you were sick, claiming it as an excuse for the weight loss and loss of appetite.

At first, everyone, including team members believed you, until they noticed you weren’t getting better, like you would if you were really sick with a catchable illness.

“So what are we going to do? because we cant loose her, shes our best” Lucy asks, getting more frantic as the sentence rolls out her mouth.

“I’ve tried talking to her, she just lies, tells me shes fine, ella me ignorará” Alexia says, finally looking up from her half full glass, meeting the eyes of her teammates.

“I know she needs me, but she won’t talk to me, she is sneaking into my bed each night for comfort, I wrap my arms around her when she falls alseep, ella tiene miedo de estar sola, shes been clinging to us, as if she is desprate for help, but doesn’t know how to ask. She won’t leave my side, unless there is food involved. luego ella desaparece” Alexia blurted out, speaking slow and clear, explaining herself.

“Maybe if we all try” Ona breaks her personal silence, earning a raised brow from a few listeners, the nodding heads soon followed.

“Bebita, can I come in” You hear Alexias voice beam through the small gap in the doorframe.

“A few of us are here too see you” you tilt your head in confusion at her followup statement, why are people here to see you, so late in the evening. You thought everyone would have returned home after team bonding, as did you and Alexia, why was there people outside your bedroom door?

You sit up in your bed, still tucked under the covers in your hoodie (that may of may not be Alexias) and shorts, clinging to your Stitch teddy. You close your laptop playing your movie and move it down the bed, finally giving Alexia a response.

“ehh, yeah come in” you say, unsure on what you are agreeing too.

You remain put under the safety of your covers, as if they would protect you from danger as the group of women enter your once personal space, finding refusge in spots around your room, most of them making themselves at home on your bed, espechailly Alexia, who comes up close to you and wraps and arm around your shoulders. Lucy, Ingrid, Mapi, Frido and Ona looked at you, as if they were waiting for you to break the artifical silence.

“Querida estamos aquí para hablar contigo” Ingrid is the first to speak up, beofre Mapi adds to her girlfrinds statement.

“I think you know what about” she fidgests with her rings. “we are just trying to understand”

“so help us do that, please sweetheart” Frido interupts.

You shake your head and close your eyes, as if you could open them and it would all go away. “I don’t know what your talking about”

“I have lectured you enough about your lying bebita” Alexia says in a stern voice.

The silence isn’t going away. You were in full control of it, and you knew that. You knew that they were waiting for you to talk, no one was going to make it easy for you.

”Desearía poder hacer que todo desaparezca” you shut your eyes once again as the tears start to spill out the creases. “I just want to be able to control what is changing”

The girls don’t speak, they are waiting for more, and they won’t break untill they are statified.

“I don’t know how to ask for help, or how to be okay” The tears get heavier as you push out the words, Alexia runs her free hand along your face, nudging you to keep going. You put in your best efforts to regain your breathing as your lip quivers in Alexia’s hand. Still no one was talking.

“I never meant for it to get this bad, I just wanted to get some control, I feel like there is so much online about me, rumors, hate, negitivity, all things I cant just reach out and get my hands on, to be able to toy with it and mold it to the way I want it. There is so little I can control, but my body, I can. No queria llegar tan lejos. Im so scared of losing myself, I want to hold onto the me that I am forever but I know I can’t, but I wanted to try, and that is why I yearn for whatever control I can get. So many ideas are put into my head about what my body should look like, how tall I should be, how much I should weigh, how tan I should be, how I should hold myself. I realised I am so calm and content when I play football, and that is because I am perfect at it, no one finds flaws in the way I play, but I second I step off the pitch I loose that warm feeling, because I have flaws again. When football is out of the picture, I am covered in them. I just wanted living to feel the same as playing, perfect and flawless.

The amont of tears in the room should safe a deadly drought.

“nuestra niña hermosa, estamos aquí” Ingrid climbs onto the bed coming closer to you, followed by the remaining womens in the room, all finding a spot, as close to you as they could get. So many arms are wrapped around you, so many hands holding your face, wiping your cold tears away.

“Let us help you darling” Lucy and Ona say in an unmost unison.

You slowly allow yourself to nod.

The following weeks were slow and painful, but what isn’t in recovery? The girls put it upon themselves to keep you in check, taking turns taking you out on small adventures, like going for walks or getting icecream to get you out of the house as you were ruled out of training and playing for a few weeks by your phycologist, that Alexia and Lucy insisted that you saw, they drove you to each appointment and picked you up, no questions asked. Meal time in the house became a big thing, Alexia discarding the idea of sitting around the table and eating, instead opting for sitting wherever, weather that was outside, or in, watching a movie, or just chatting. This change of environment around meals made eating less of a chore, as you got better, teammates would come over for dinner and it became more a social event, a more relaxing endeavor. You slowly made your way back to training as you got your fitness back, earning pats on the back from your team who you had made, very proud.

#wsl #woso #lucy bronze #ona batlle #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni #barca #barcelona femeni #barcelona x reader #lucybronze #lionesses #teen reader #eating disoder trigger warning #mental health #fluff #fanfic

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kpiuniverse · 3 months ago

Text

Penelope had nothing on you

This fic has been inspired by @ultimate-marysue Odysseus/Penelope's prompt here.

Roy deserves to have a little Odysseus/Penelope moment and say "you need to be able to string my bow to date me". Cue to Jason suddenly increasing the weights in every machine he owns. He eventually manages but it's a struggle. Like, he's on the floor sweating and out of breath, but the bow is strung. He's so very pleased with himself, it's really pathetic. Roy thinks it's super hot (he likes a wretched creature), the Titans are begging him to get better taste.

It takes place in an alternate AU where Jason did not die, but the motherfucker still managed to get the same character development as the comics...

Written and edited in a day (which had not happened since Vigilante Chaos and Sleepless Nights). I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3

It starts as a joke.

Dick is at Titans Tower with his team, blowing off steam after a high-stakes mission. Naturally, alcohol is involved. Surprising absolutely no one, least of all Dick, the handful of unsupervised teenagers quickly spirals out of control.

It starts with them trying to string Roy’s bow. Emphasis on ‘trying’. It’s late into the night, and only the core Titans (Donna, Wally, Dick and Roy) remain after everybody else either went to bed or passed out from drinking. Wally jokes about Roy’s archaic choice of weapons, Roy counters by pointing out that a bow is much more reliable than mechanical weapons. The discussion escalates toward the respective merits of arrowheads or bullets to hold tricks, culminating with Roy deciding that Wally’s inability to use a bow renders his opinion irrelevant anyway.

It spirals down from there. Wally’s pride is picked, and he immediately snatches Roy’s bow from wherever his owner abandoned it earlier tonight. Posturing on top of their table, he loudly asks: “What’s in it for me, pretty boy?”

Roy falls on the floor with laughter and promises Wally the date of his choice – no veto from Roy - if he manages to string the bow. Pumped by the idea to humiliate Roy, Wally tries to string the bow at once. And tries. And keeps trying, under Roy’s degrading comments and Donna’s loud Wally doesn’t succeed and finally puts down the weapon with a sheepish look.

Roy’s trademark smirk is in place, and he offers the bow to Donna. Never one to shy away from a physical challenge, she gives it all she can. She can’t string it either and loudly curses Roy’s ancestors as well as his potential offspring with such colorful language that even Roy is impressed.

Roy presents his weapon to Dick next, a single eyebrow raised in challenge. The thing is, Dick already knows he’s not able to string it. He's fully aware of his physical abilities, for starters. While the most acrobatic of them in the air, his shoulder and arm strength is nowhere near Roy’s. Dick also knows that all the Arrow’s bows have a hidden release button, as a security feature. It’s supposed to prevent anybody other than Roy or Oliver from using their weapons.

Apparently, it also makes for a comical distraction among young, inebriated heroes.

Without a word, Dick slowly takes the bow from Roy’s hands as his friend's whistle. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Roy’s as he skims the weapon's surface until he feels an almost imperceptible catch. He lets his finger linger there for a couple of seconds, savoring Roy’s blanching when his friend figures out that, of course, the Bats would know all about his and Oliver’s dirty little secrets.

Still, even without the trick release, Dick is drunk out of his ass and nowhere near certain that he could actually string the weapon fully. He decides against risking making a fool of himself for the cheap price of parading Roy in lace panties and a cute dress all over Queen Enterprise - the man is shameless; he would probably enjoy it.

Dick still makes a good show of trying his best, waiting until color returns to Roy's cheeks before handing him back the bow with a knowing grin.

Roy recovers quickly and proudly announces. “Well, that settles it! Anybody that can string my bow can take me on the date of their choice and get a kiss from me. But I’m not holding my breath, losers!”

The party withers away after that, and they all return to their quarters. The next morning, the story is shared, embellished and deformed to the point it becomes an inside joke for the Titans. Never one to stay out of a good laugh, even at his own expense, Roy goes the extra mile and sacrifices one of his older bows by putting it up the wall of the Tower lounge, so that anybody can try to string it.

It becomes a fixed feature in their decoration and a good story to tell their new members.

***

It becomes an innocent afterthought.

Truth be told, Dick has a lot on his mind at this time. The bow running gag is far from any of his current concerns. That’s why he doesn't think anything of it when he returns to the Titans lounge, after updating Bruce on their outing with the Titans, and finds Garth vividly retailing the story of the bow and the unclaimed associated price to an impressionable young Jason in his new Robin’s colors. The boy – his young brother. God, Dick is never going to get used to it – is hanging on Garth’s lips, eyes wide and more focused than Dick ever saw him in the few weeks he has known him.

Sure, Dick saw the look Jason sent toward Donna and Roy's direction whenever he was around them during the weekend. But a bit of a crush on any of them was to be expected anyway, and it’s not like it could lead to anything harmful, after all. Jason isn't even thirteen yet, and both Dick’s friends are well into their twenties, not the least interested in a kid, especially one under Batman’s protection.

And if that night, back at the Manor, Jason shovels all the proteins onto his plate first and then goes over his usual shyness regarding food when asking Alfred for seconds, while grilling a bemused Bruce about the best diet to augment one’s muscle mass, well. The kid has a crush, that’s all. It’s kind of adorable.

It’s not like a heavily proteic diet is going to have any adverse side effects on a growing vigilante kid. Not under Alfred's watch, at least.

***

It turns concerning after that.

Jason's eating habits settle and become the new normal. Bruce and Alfred take it in stride and keep pushing high-protein meals toward him, never asking why. Dick doesn't let on that he has any insider information, because his relationship with Jason is still rocky at the best of times. Outing the kid’s crush isn't going to help anybody.

There’s a moment, though, when Dick hesitates.

Looking for Jason at Alfred's demand, he finds the boy in his room. Dick would not have thought anything of it if Jason's reaction to his unanticipated presence in his space hasn’t been that violent. Jason startles, pushes what he had in his hands under his comforter and quickly rushes Dick out of the room.

His little brother’s behavior is so removed from his normal one that Dick’s detective senses tingle for the rest of the day. Ashamed and concerned all at once, he uses the time Jason spent in the shower that night after patrol to go through his room.

Concern wins the match when Dick stumbles upon a bottle of prescription steroids that he knows for a fact Jason was not prescribed with. The screaming match that follows when Jason emerges from the bathroom and sees Dick sitting on his bed with the bottle clearly in sight, only stays at decent sound levels because neither of them wants Bruce involved.

Jason’s reasons for that are obvious; after two years at the Manor, he is well accounted with Bruce's overprotective behavior and old enough that it starts to shaffle. Dick’s own reasons are a lot more selfish; somehow, he feels responsible for Jason’s crush on Roy and his subsequent behavior.

They reach an understanding. Jason stays away from any pharmaceutical substances altogether - it was such an easy promise to extract from him that Dick doubts the kid really had any real intention of taking the pills in the first place - and Dick doesn’t share this misstep with Bruce. The compromise still involves telling Alfred, much to Jason’s chagrin, because Dick doesn’t live at the Manor, and his irregular visits aren’t frequent enough to really make sure that Jason keeps his word.

For a couple of days, Dick regrets his decision and spends a good part of his day job hovering over the call button on Bruce’s contact. Until he decides to go back to the Manor without advance notice and finds Jason struggling through his usual training regimen.

Dick breathes better after that. If he keeps his visits more frequent than he used to before the incident, well, only Alfred and Jason might figure out why. That’s good enough for him.

***

Then it gets ridiculous.

Dick is using one of his sporadic visits at the Manor to make good use of the extensive gym on the third floor. The natural light coming through the large windows feels nice after the winter months spent in Blüdhaven.

Distraction is the only reason Dick even takes his place on the weight bench without checking that’s already been put upon the bar.

He takes out the bar absently and almost lets it topple upon his chest from the surprise. The weight it’s carrying is way more than anything even Bruce usually uses. It’s not unmanageable for Dick, but he still struggles to put the bar back without incident.

Out of breath and shaking with leftover anxiety at the idea of what would have happened to him if he had to confess to Alfred his poor decision to train unspotted, he gets up and checks the leaded discs on the side. It is indeed a far cry from their usual regiment. He gets a look around the rest of the gym, and sure enough, all the machines are heavily loaded.

At dinner, he tries to joke with Bruce about it, who does not react in the slightest. All it takes is seeing Jason's shoulders hunching and the tips of his ears blushing to understand that Bruce is not the one currently using the third-floor gym.

Which, duh. The man has never once in his life exposed himself to sunlight if he could avoid it, and there’s a perfectly useable gym in the Cave. Dick is still reeling from the implication when Jason finds him right before he leaves and asks him to not rat him to their joined paternal figure. Dick makes him promise to not train alone with this kind of weight, going as far as assuring his regular presence at the Manor to help Jason train if that is what it takes.

It kind of becomes their thing; Dick coming over every other day after work or whenever he can spare the time to help Jason slowly increase the weight on the machines and witnessing his once-upon-a-time malnourished little brother develop into a tank of a man before he reaches official adulthood.

As it happens, regular exposure and forced trust do wonders for their relationship, above anything else Dick ever tried with Jason. The fact that Dick has to take a step back from the Titans' most time-consuming missions – space ones, for example - to be there for Jason on the regular doesn’t hurt either, to be honest. After the induced panic attack Dick gets when Jason one day calls him out of the blue, proudly announcing his intent to go to Ethiopia of all places to look for this birth mother, Dick comes to realize that without their closeness, Jason most likely would have faced the Joker alone in the damned warehouse where his mother lost her life. Dick never misses a session after that day.

Dick has no doubts about why and who Jason is focused on reaching ridiculous bench press levels for. Dick is also a coward, because he never calls Jason out on it, but regularly shares his suspicions with his Titans friends, including Roy.

Roy finds it funny, because it objectively is. He also assures Dick that Jason always has been and always will be Dick’s little brother above anything else. With what Roy is currently going through with his newfound sobriety and having to take care of an infant full-time, Dick wasn’t really concerned to start with.

Still, Dick has known Roy for years, so any extra reassurance that his old friend has no interest in returning his little brother's crush is welcome.

***

At some point, Dick starts to get a little bit worried.

Jason is only nineteen, for crying out loud! Dick is well aware that his little brother is built like a double fridge. He also knows why Jason first started to develop his musculature a few years ago. That’s why Dick is absolutely not amused by the way Roy starts looking back at Jason.

After a couple of chance encounters in Gotham and on Titans business when Roy’s touch lingers a little too much on Jason for Dick’s taste, he corners his old friend for a chat.

The next morning at breakfast, Roy makes a show of renewing the bow story while Jason’s there. He lays heavily on the ‘not interested in anything right now with everything I have going on’ and emphasizes that of course being able to string his bow will stay the only exception to his new ‘no dating’ rule.

Jason looks crestfallen at Roy’s tirade. Dick lingers around after the meal, ready to be the supportive shoulder Jason could lay his young heart on. That’s the only reason he witnesses his brother glaring at the bow on the wall with renewed vigor.

Unfortunately, the matter does not settle after Roy, deciding to go all in, brings Lian to the Tower to meet the Titans. If Dick was expecting Jason to realize that dating a vigilante single father was not the best usage of his teenage hormones, he is sorely mistaken. Jason is in awe of the little girl, spends his time entertaining her and becomes her favorite uncle in the span of the weekend, making Dick ferociously jealous.

All in all, the operation of keeping Jason away from Roy is an astounding failure. Dick is going to cry.

***

So, as the mature adult Dick pretends to be, he learns to live with it. Some moments are easier than others.

Seeing Jason and Roy develop a tentative friendship based on a shared love of sarcasm, their tendency to stir trouble wherever they go, and repetitive babysitting emergencies is easy.

Jason doesn't have a lot of friends, civilians or vigilantes. He tries the college thing at Gotham City University, and manages to stick to it despite their lifestyle, much to Bruce's delight and Dick's surprise. His impressive physique and pick-and-choose attitude toward classes isn’t conducive to building closeness with the other students, though.

The Titans always have been Dick’s, and the Young Justice initiative the newest heroes started definitely has Tim’s dirty paw prints all over it. Somehow, Jason never manages to find his own hero team. He never complains about it, happy to focus on trying to make the City he grew up in a better place, whatever not-so-Bat-sanctioned methods it takes.

Jason's controversial choice of moniker when he leaves the Robin colors to Tim doesn't help him maintain a healthy working relationship with Bruce either; not that Dick is judging him for rebelling at age nineteen and slamming the Manor door in Bruce’s face after a dispute.

He isn't that much of a hypocrite. Choosing to name himself after one of the Joker's old names, on the other hand, it was maybe a bit too much of a slap in Batman’s face. But the rogue did kill Jason's biological mother in front of him, so if anybody is allowed to claim the ‘Red Hood’ name, it should be him.

Roy’s sobriety comes and goes in unpredictable turns, until he loses Lian and... well, it’s not pretty. Jason is by his side throughout all of it, probably preventing Dick’s friend from using more fucked up coping mechanisms than his addictions. Dick might be bitter that Roy prefers Jason’s support over his, but he would never voice anything about that, since it might push Roy to stop seeking Jason’s help when he needs it.

When Jason blows up everything and everybody to jump at Roy’s rescue in Qurac without any backup, it’s difficult. Seeing his not-so-little-anymore brother really heartbroken for the first time when Roy falls in bed with Kori in the aftermath is even worse. Then Kori leaves and the pair decide to start some kind of twisted vigilante-for-hire business, Dick is too worried to evaluate where it falls on the spectrum.

It all goes up in flames, as per usual with them. For the first time ever, Jason walks away from Roy and cuts ties with everybody else. But the moment they find out Lian is alive, and a teenager now, Jason is back faster than a comic book retcons, playing uncle with her at Roy’s place every other weekend.

Throughout it all, Dick knows Jason stays in love with Roy. Because after everything the two of them went through, there is no way both the heated looks his brother throws at the redhead when he thinks no one is looking and his fearful protectiveness over the Harpers are fueled by a childhood crush. But Jason never tells anyone, never makes a move other than wistfully looking at Roy’s bow whenever he comes by the Tower.

Dick stays a coward, because he never pushes the issue with either Jason or Roy. He decides to stay out of it, fairly confident that his previous interventions on the matter made things harder for them. And if he keeps seeing the way Roy’s face dropped before hardening into resolve the day Dick all but threatened him to stay away from his brother, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

***

Everything comes down to it with a bang. A real one.

There’s an unusual number of Titans – current and previous ones – at the Tower that day. They are loudly celebrating Tim's eighteenth birthday, much to his dismay. Roy is there, having tagged along with Jason. Or Jason tagged along with Roy, nobody’s sure and nobody really cares. The two of them almost live in each other's pockets these days.

Of course, with Tim’s luck and his uncanny ability to piss off powerful beings, the party is rudely interrupted by a stressing amount of assassins from the League Of Assassins bypassing the Tower’s security system and falling upon them all. Between the genuine surprise – because targeting the Titans in their own living room, really? - and the packed room, it takes Dick’s fellow heroes a distressing delay to deal with Ra’s inappropriate birthday gift.

It comes to the point where Dick worries that collateral damage is inevitable. Most of the Titans are meta-humans or aliens or something, so unlike the Bats and the Arrows in the room, they aren't under-equipped or weaponless. But they aren't used to working together, and the lack of clear leadership shows.

One of their opponents passes both Roy and Jason's defensive positions around Lian and gets his hands on her. The teenage girl holds her own, of course, but Roy panics and launches himself at the man gripping his daughter by the throat with only his bare hands. Suffice it to say, when Dick catches sight of the situation through the global mess, he realizes there is a good chance Roy is going to be the collateral damage.

Before he can react or shout at Wally and Donna to go help Roy, Jason has all but ripped Roy’s old bow from the wall, clenched the emergency arrow embedded in the frame and strung it with a grunt so loud it covers the battling sound surrounding him. He releases the arrow right where the ninja's head is hovering over a fallen Roy, taking care of the threat. Roy freezes on the floor when the arrow passes him, gets rid of the body that fell onto him and launches at Lian to check her for injuries in the same breath.

Having one of them almost get killed seems to be the trick to organize the present Titans into something resembling a functional team. They make good work of the rest of the League’s assassins, sending them back to Ra’s Al Ghul in a handful of minutes.

Afterward, it’s business as usual, all of them still high on adrenaline. Roy and Lian are huddled together in a corner, Jason quietly speaking to them with a hand on Roy's trembling shoulder. Wally sees them getting out of cleaning duty and decides to act jealous, ignoring Dick’s signal to shut his mouth.

“So...” he announces to the room at large. He waits until everybody is looking at him, the asshole, before pointing at Roy’s bow, discarded on the floor next to where Jason is crouching. “Are we going to address that?” He adds.

The entire present company looks at him with various degrees of bewilderment. Some of them don’t realize, of course, because they are in the aftermath of a battle that almost cost the life of one of their own and don’t immediately understand what he is talking about. The ones that understand what Wally is referring to are still taken aback, because they are in the aftermath of a battle that almost cost the life of one of their own.

In addition to being in the second category, Dick is also reeling from the disaster that this has been. Suffice it to say, his temper is as short as his tone when he cuts whatever retort Jason was trying to get out from under his blush.

“Shut up, Walls!” Dick takes a deep breath and opens the eyes he closed on reflex while trying to center himself. He is met with concerned looks he does not care for. What he does care for, however, is Roy’s single eyebrow raised in surprise and Jason’s frown.

Before he can apologize and explain himself, Jason shoulders his way out of the room under Roy’s desperate expression.

He was right, Dick suddenly realizes. No intervention he ever made into Roy and Jason’s relationship has ever failed to worsen the situation.

***

It ends like it started all those years ago. With a joke.

The beginning of the end is when Jason corners Dick a couple of hours later and lashes out at him. “What the fuck is your problem with me and Roy, huh?” Jason asks while pushing him to the wall.

Dick somehow doubts a shouting match with his brother over Roy’s honor in one of the Tower corridors while the better part of every hero that was ever a Titan is in attendance is the best way to handle this.

“I’m talking to you, Dickface!” Jason escalates in the spare seconds it takes Dick to find his target. Without a word, Dick takes Jason by the wrist and all but shoves him through a not-so-random door.

They find themselves in one of the Tower cupboards. Jason raises an eyebrow at him, but Dick quickly shuts him up with a pointed remark about their weight difference and how Dick never would have been able to manhandle him here if the younger one did not allow it. Jason concedes the point and takes pointed inspiration, ready to resume his shouting.

“I don’t have a problem with you and Roy,” Dick cuts Jason before he can alert the entire Tower about his obvious feelings for a certain redhead.

Jason startles, clearly not expecting Dick’s answer to his questioning. He gets over it quickly and retorts. “Well, that’s new, for starters. Care to share what your little outburst was about, then?”

Dick shakes his head and counters. “Please, you can’t tell me that having Wally publicly grill you over your feelings for Roy felt appropriate. Roy was shaken; we all were.”

He looks directly at Jason and delivers what feels like a long-overdue apology. “I’m sorry about that, though. And I’m sorry about any part I have played in keeping you from telling Roy how you feel about him.”

On cue, the deep dive into emotional territory takes Jason off balance. He scratches his head, a nervous tick, and avoids looking at Dick when he answers. “’s okay. It’s not like I didn't always know how you felt about me going after Roy, ever since I was just the street rat Bruce brought home. And it’s not like I became a catch ever since.”

Then it’s Dick's turn to struggle. What? All those years, Jason kept his feelings for Roy hidden because of Dick? No way. No way?

“Jason,” he asks slowly, approaching the situation the same way he would approach a cornered predator cornered. Which is not so far from the reality of the situation, really. “Why did you never tell Roy how you feel about him?”

Jason looks over Dick’s shoulder and explains. “Look, I know I’m not good enough for him, okay? And he’s your friend. And you’re my brother. And...” He hesitates and concludes. “It’s not worth endangering that, that’s all.”

Dick places both hands on his little brother’s shoulders and waits for Jason to look back at him. “Jason, you are worthy of anybody that catches your interest. Why would you let what I think keep you from going after something that makes you happy?”

Judging by the odd look Jason gives him, Dick may have dialed too much on the melodramatic here. Time to back-pedal to more comfortable zones. He tries for humor. “If anything, it’s Roy that isn’t worthy of you!”

Jason defaults to his comfort zone as well. Except, for him, it’s anger. “Oh yeah? Then why did you do everything you could to keep me from landing Roy when I was younger?” He accuses.

Dick gasps audibly. “Because you were a child! A child with a crush on a man a decade older than you. Can you see how it could have been seen as concerning back then?”

Jason huffs and crosses his arms in front of his torso, making himself even bigger than he already is. His posture adding to the choleric vibes coming from him have Dick’s reptilian brain screaming ‘danger’.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jason retorts. “We’re only 8 eight years apart.”

Dick prays for patience and pinches the bridge of his nose to display that fact to the present company. “An eight-year gap is concerning when one of the parties involved is so young any relation between them falls under statutory rape!” He takes a deep breath and adds. “You were a child back then. But you haven’t been a child for a long time, Jason. And if I have kept being your brother all throughout the insanity that passes as your teenage crisis, you dating Roy is not going to change that fact.”

Their discussion ends with a hug and a joint agreement that neither of them is equipped to handle more emotionally charged conversation.

Dick figures the conversation was worth it the next day during breakfast. Roy and Jason emerge together, hand in hand. Roy sports a grin that could illuminate the state of New Jersey during New Year's Eve while Jason darts a nervous look toward Lian the moment they pass the door. The kid flashes him a toothy smile as reassuring as it is threatening – she is Jade's daughter, as much as they tend to forget it – and gives him a thumbs up for good measure. Jason visibly relaxes after that and courteously accepts the banter all the Titans present rain on the two of them.

Dick waits until the catcalls and the unsubtle innuendos recess before sitting next to them. “There’s still one thing I don't understand,” he asks, gaining their attention. “If you always knew how to string the bow, why didn’t you do it when you were younger?” He directs the question at Jason, because Dick is a known masochist who wants to imagine his underage brother dating one of his best friends.

Jason looks at him like he sprouted another head during the night. “Because I physically couldn’t, Dickiebird. You would know, you were there.” Roy, bless him, stays silent and keeps smiling. Dick insists. “No, what I meant is when did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” Wally asks over his shoulder. Jason doesn’t look like he has any clue about what Dick is talking about, which is infuriating, to say the least. Dick hesitates and catches Roy's eye. His friend shrugs noncommittedly, as to convey he doesn’t have any stake in the game anymore. Which, fair. Dick guesses the joke went on long enough as it is.

“Roy’s bow.” He explains to his suddenly attentive surrounding audience. “It’s not about being strong enough. There’s a hidden release in it. That’s why nobody ever managed to string it. It’s a trick.”

Wally cries outrage all over the place, Donna grumbles about how she always knew, because of course she should have been able to do it otherwise, and the others have a good laugh. All of them, except Jason, who seems star-struck in his seat. “What?” He finally asks. “What do you mean, it’s a trick?”

Everybody sobers up. A good part of the present company, Roy included, have heard Dick rant about the herculean tales of his little brother over the bow. Present company also has been in the field with the Red Hood and knows from first-hand account the kind of violence he is capable of when pushed.

There is an audible gulp in the room. Lian retrieves the bow from his usual place on the wall and shows Jason the small dentition that releases it, then effortlessly strings it with her only four feet and a half body. Jason stays notably silents during the demonstration.

“Wait a minute,” Wally suddenly says. “If you didn’t know about the trick,” he gesticulates at Jason, “how did you do it?”

Roy slowly turns toward his new boyfriend. Dick has known him for more than a decade at this point. He knows Roy, and he knows that look.

“I...” Jason hesitates. “Adrenaline, I guess?” He tries, because he might be a proud man, but he is not one to flash any type of superiority over Wonder Woman or any other Amazon. He’s a gentleman like that.

Jason grimaces and turns to Roy, as to apologize for having put his precious bow under duress. He must recognize the look in Roy’s eyes as well, because he turns redder than Dick ever saw him – first encounter with Wonder Woman included - in a handful of seconds. Without a word, Roy gets up and grips Jason's elbow to make him follow him.

The room erupts in laughs and catcalls until they disappear toward Jason’s room and Dick takes a second to appreciate their choice. Roy’s room is next to his, and there are definitely things about his little brother and his friend’s relationship he does not need to know about.

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love-bucky-3000 · 7 days ago

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Date Night and Stage Lights (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Prompt: You take Bucky to see a play for his birthday

WC ~2000

Warnings: none really, fluffy boyfriend bucky, very very slight angst, some comfort ig

a.n: i wrote this quickly so the end is rushed unfortunately but it was such a cute idea that i had to write it! this is mostly just cute fluffy boyfriend bucky vibes

share and enjoy!!

You had bought the tickets before you could second guess your decision. The tickets sat safely in your purse as you rode the subway to your Brooklyn apartment- the one you shared with Bucky. The tickets were for the play “Wizard of Oz”- a movie Bucky talked about seeing when it first came out. You had been talking about the new Wicked movies when Bucky had said he really enjoyed the film, even with all the “annoying” music (his words, not yours). When you saw that the theatre had a private booth for tonight, you jumped on the chance to buy the tickets.

The winter coat you wore was suffocating in the hot subway but it was needed in the chilly March air. Finally, the subway reached your spot and you hopped off, almost skipping up the stairs into the bustling New York streets. Bucky insisted that spending a quiet day with you would be enough for his birthday and you knew he struggled with crowds, but he was getting better! Yeah, he still scanned every business he went in for threats. Yeah, he still insists you stand to his right side, leaving his metal arm free to block any incoming attacks, but you knew he was trying. Trying for you. You thought the private booth in the theatre would help calm his nerves. You hummed happily to yourself as you climbed the stairs of the apartment building. You greeted Alpine, Bucky’s fluffy feline, as you entered the apartment.

You found Bucky sitting in his reading chair that sat in the back corner of the apartment, facing the New York skyline. “Hey, baby,” he said as he stood to greet you. Bucky met you in the middle of the living room in just a couple of strides and scooped you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, peppering kissing across your cheeks. You giggled and squirmed in his arms. “Buck! Put me down, I can’t breathe!”

He laughed and set you back on your feet but kept his hands locked behind your back. Your own arms came up and you intertwined your fingers at his neck, playing with the strands of hair that had fallen out of his low pony tail. His lips found yours and you smiled into the soft kiss. You let him kiss you for a few more moments before Alpine’s loud cry reached your ears. You pulled away with a laugh and bent down to pick her up. “I’m sorry, Appie, did I not give you enough attention when I came home?” The cat purred as you scratched under her chin then saw a fly and jumped out of your arms to get it.

Bucky shook his head at the cat and bent down to gather your purse that had fallen when he greeted you. “Oh, wait!” He paused, his hand halfway to setting the purse on the table, as he turned his questioning eyes back to you. You had a mischievous smile on your face as you dug through your purse. “Aha!” you exclaimed as you found the two pieces of paper. You handed them to Bucky with a smile. He cocked an eyebrow at you and took them, “I said no gifts.”

“Come onnn, Bucky. It’s your birthday! We don’t have to go, but I thought you would like it.”

Bucky kept the look of disapproval on his face as he unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the words. Your heart was beating rapidly. Bucky remained silent, his face neutral. “It was a spur of the moment purchase. We, um, don’t have to go. Of course, it’s up to you…” You trailed off your comments, seeing no change in his face. You decided to keep quiet, letting Bucky process the gift. You awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, wishing Alpine would come back to break the tension.

The sound of the paper being folded again broke the silence. Bucky cleared his throat before speaking. “Doll, I… don’t know what to say…” You studied his face, not seeing anger. You saw more unease. You stepped up to him and placed your hand on his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Buck, we don’t have to go, we-” Bucky cut you off with a shake of his head. The tickets were still clinched in his hands. He opened and closed his mouth, seemingly lost for words.

“It’s just… this was the last movie I took Rebecca to before I shipped off. I haven’t seen it since.” His voice was shaky while recalling the time with his baby sister. You know he missed her dearly, along with everything to do with his old life.

“Oh, Buck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. We can do something else.” You gave his bicep another squeeze and stepped closer, bringing him into a hug. He accepted it and brought you closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours. “I wanna go. I just wasn’t expecting for it to bring back so many memories.” You smiled sadly up at him and gently kissed his lips. “It’s a private booth. I thought that would help stay away from the crowd,” you explained. He nodded. “That is very thoughtful. Thank you, doll.”

“How about we get ready and get dinner before we get to the theatre?” you suggest Bucky’s favorite diner down the block from the apartment. He agreed and you both separated to get changed. As you got ready, Bucky told you how Becca loved musicals. He told you how he would pull overnight shifts at the docks to pay for tickets. Your heart equally broke at the memories and swelled at his love he had for his family. When you finished getting ready, Bucky left Alpine some food and threw her a quick “be good” which she flicked her tail at.

On the way out the door, he gently wrapped a scarf around your neck and brought you into his side, trying to keep the wind from biting at you. You walked in step with him all the way to the diner, his cologne filling your senses. He opened the door for you and guided you to your favorite booth in the corner. As you went to sit in the booth seat opposite him, his hand reached out to gently pull you in the booth next to him. You sat down and scootched into his side and leaned up to kiss his cheek. A rosy flush crossed his face as he threw an arm over your shoulders to cuddle you in closer. He wasn’t the most comfortable with PDA, but he seemed to be in a good headspace, happy to show his appreciation for you.

“Can I get you anything different today?” The waitress, Darla, was an older woman who seemed to always be there when you and Bucky were. “Just the normal, Darla, thank you!” You said, and Darla took the order down on her notepad.

“Actually, could you add a slice of that chocolate cake?” Bucky cut in before Darla could walk away. “Of course!” she replied and went off to drop the order at the kitchen window.

You playfully nudged Bucky with your elbow. “Sweet tooth today?” you joked. “Not as sweet as you,” Bucky replied. “That was absolutely horrible, Bucky!” you exclaimed through your laughter. He joined in on your laughing and nudged your nose with his, kissing you in the middle of a smile. You kissed back and parted shortly after, the smile remaining as you gazed up into his blue eyes. You rested your head on his shoulder and looked across his chest to the large window to his left, watching as people wandered in and out of stores.

Bucky quietly thanked Darla as she brought your drinks but made no effort to move you from his shoulder, keeping his arm wrapped around you as his fingers drew random shapes along your upper arm. Despite the amount of people outside, the diner was nearly empty, leaving Bucky without the normal filling of dread that usually clouds him when there are unknown people coming and going.

With the soft melody of old jazz tunes playing and the retro vibe of the diner, it wasn’t hard for Bucky to imagine what it would have been like to have you in this exact position almost 100 years earlier. He could imagine himself, the young, unbroken version, whisking you off to the dance hall after this meal. (He would have happily pulled a double shift at the docks to afford bringing you out to eat). Maybe instead of the dance hall, you would have gone with him to take Rebecca to the first showing of the play you were about to take him to. He glanced over at the empty seat on the other side of the booth, easily imagining Steve’s skinny body filling it. Bucky so desperately wished things were different, but at the same time, he would have never known you if they were. His nostalgic thoughts were interrupted with Darla bringing the plates of food by. Bucky lifted his arm as you raised up and thanked Darla. Darla gave you both a smile and left with an “Enjoy!”

Darla brought the piece of cake Bucky requested when she saw you were almost done with your burgers. You slid it closer and took the fork provided and held it up to Bucky’s mouth. His mouth stayed closed as he gave you a look that said “what the fuck are you doing”. You giggled and nudged his mouth with the fork, leaving behind a bit of frosting. You watched as Bucky went to lick it and watched as his face changed from annoyed (only playfully) to scheming. You cocked an eyebrow as he smirked. Bucky quickly leaned in and kissed your cheek, smearing the frosting there. You held back a squeal and looked at Bucky in disbelief as he laughed so hard his face was getting red.

You joined in on the laughter as you put down the fork and reached for a napkin. Bucky took it from you as he took your chin between his thumb and index finger of his metal hand and gently wiped your cheek free of frosting with the other. He didn’t release your face once he was done, taking the time to memorize all your features. You blushed under his intense gaze. “Sorry, you’re just so cute.” You couldn’t reply as his mouth first kissed your nose then found yours again in a sweet kiss. “Come on, let's eat the cake before we’re late to the showing.” As much as you wanted to stay in your little bubble, the show was starting in just over an hour. You and Bucky took turns with the fork, finishing the cake quickly. Bucky paid (not without fighting you all the way to the check out) and held out his elbow as you exited the dinner. You threaded your arm through his and started the walk to the theatre.

It didn’t take long to get seated in your private booth. Bucky had unease pouring off of him despite being away from the crowd. Luckily, the seats were moveable and you pressed your chair into his and threaded your arm under his against to rest on his shoulder. He relaxed slightly and you kept your hand in his for the entire show, stroking your thumb across the back of his hand whenever you felt his tense. The play concluded and you and Bucky discussed the play all the way back to your apartment, where you were met with a very unhappy Alpine (she could see the bottom of her dry food bowl).

#marissa writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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belovedmuichiro · 1 year ago

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I saw a post once that entertained the idea of Tsutako being in the background of Sanemi’s hometown in the anime, and it got me thinking about a sanegiyuu childhood meet cute.

…

- When Giyuu was 13, he took a trip with Tsutako to a neighboring city where her fiancé had come from

- Though Giyuu was a much friendlier person as a child, he was still quiet, reserved and nervous. As a result, being in a bigger city was overwhelming and he struggled to keep up with Tsutako as they walked

- Before they could reach her fiancé’s home, Giyuu was separated from her in a crowd

- Without any people skills to speak of or the confidence to ask for help, Giyuu let the crowd swallow him up until he found a small spot he could cower in

- He ended up hiding under the stairs of a shrine where nobody could see him. He cried so quietly, nobody could possibly hear him either, but a boy did miraculously find him

- The boy was strikingly beautiful with stark white hair and piercing eyes. His presence made Giyuu stop crying almost immediately, but only because he was mesmerized.

- When the boy spoke, he was blunt and sort of rude but Giyuu hung onto every word he said as if he was a kind spirit come to save him

- “You cry like my little siblings,” he observed. It was a simple, random sort of thing to say but it perplexed Giyuu so much that he didn’t cry any longer

- Giyuu learned that this particular shrine is where the boy would find one of his brothers hiding, so when he saw Giyuu curled up, he thought something might’ve happened to him

- Giyuu reluctantly explained he was separated from Tsutako while visiting. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should trust a stranger but they were clearly of a similar age and that put him at ease compared to an adult

- The boy gave Giyuu a small canteen of water before they could continue because the crying had obviously overwhelmed him. He then asked for the fiancé’s name, which he scowled upon hearing, surprisingly knowing the person

- “Is that bad?” Giyuu nervously asked

- “He’s one of the sons of our landlord,” the boy explained, “He’s fine. His family’s a buncha dicks.”

- Profanities aside, Giyuu asked if he could lead him there, and the boy agreed

- “What did his family do?” Giyuu asked on the way

- “Their kid brother said some shit about my family bein’ too big and my brother got into a fight with him about it.”

- “How big is your family?”

- “Nine of us. I have six siblings.”

- Giyuu learned that his mother had just given birth, which prompted the rude comment from their landlord’s son. He also had a father who he didn’t want to talk about on account of him angering some violent people

- Though the boy didn’t seem terribly interested in prying into Giyuu’s life, he still asked, “What about you?”

- “I just have my sister. My parents died when I was young.”

- “Lucky you have a sister.”

- “Yes… I’m Giyuu, by the way.”

- For a moment, the boy looked hesitant to give anymore details about himself, but must’ve decided he doesn’t have much to lose.

- “Sanemi.”

- On the way to the landlord’s home, it began to rain so Sanemi pulled Giyuu aside near a food stall to wait it out.

- Giyuu, as luck would have it, did have a small amount of money on him and suggested they share a meal.

- Sanemi agreed, not letting on that he rarely has enough money to ever eat out. However, Giyuu became curious when Sanemi awkwardly held his food at his side and wouldn’t take a bite.

- He didnt want to admit it, but his plan was to pocket whatever Giyuu bought him to bring home to his family. He wasn’t going to tell Giyuu, but the boy’s earnest, honest face pulled it out of him

- In response, Giyuu bought him another and asked that he feed himself as well

- When Sanemi finally did eat, Giyuu smiled for the first time. It flustered Sanemi, who quickly learned he couldn’t handle a pretty face

- When the rain ended, people came flooding to the streets in overwhelming numbers that scared Giyuu again

- To reassure him, Sanemi grabbed his hand and returned his earlier smile, promising he’ll be okay as long as they stick together

- Giyuu took to Sanemi with awe. The crowd was still scary, but Giyuu grounded himself in the feeling of his companion’s hand and trusted his word.

- Eventually they did find themselves at the landlord’s house. Most of the family was out looking for Giyuu, but luckily Tsutako stayed and was there to greet him.

- This was also a relief to Sanemi, who wasn’t sure he would be able to resist driving his fist into the face of the boy who fought with Genya

- Sanemi intended to leave with no commotion, just an odd empty feeling at the notion of leaving his new acquaintance, but Giyuu stopped him

- “Thank you for helping me,” he said with much more confidence than the first time he spoke. “You’re very kind, Sanemi.”

- Sanemi, flustered, shrugged and promised it was no problem. “Couldn’t just leave ya there…”

- “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

- When Giyuu said this, he held onto the hope that because Tsutako new husband had close ties to Sanemi’s, they would surely meet again one day

- It was hard to explain but Giyuu felt drawn to Sanemi, like he was a special person he was meant to meet

- Of course, he couldn’t predict the tragedy that would befall both of them

- Years later, long after Tsutako and the Shinazugawa family were murdered, Sanemi was welcomed into the Hashira and finally met Giyuu again

- Only this time, he was quiet and cold. He didn’t give any indication that he remembered Sanemi and didn’t have any of the kindness he was full of as a child. Sanemi decided that he must’ve turned into a conceited ass with no time for the little people, he probably didn’t even remember him.

- But it was impossible for Giyuu to forget who Sanemi was. Even under all the scars and curses, he was still the boy who saved him that day. But Giyuu knew they had fundamentally changed as people, and clearly Sanemi wanted nothing to do with him any longer

- Unfortunately for them, the draw remains there no matter how far apart they try to drift.

#emmie speaks #I’m. love them.#sanegiyuu #demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #kny manga spoilers #baby sanegiyuu

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