#and here I was wondering if I could skip one...

[erwinsvow]

Okay but shy/bunny reader being used to bestfriend!Rafe ditching her because he’s with some girl, she never points it out and somehow she always lets it go because she’s just a babyy and Rafe starts realising that they don’t hang out as much😭💖

it was hard seeing rafe go—always was, and always will be.

you tried to convince yourself you were used to it now, but the familiar ache in your chest when he'd say goodbye to you, topper, and kelce and walk away hand in hand with his flavor of the week was getting worse and worse.

before you'd realized you had feelings for rafe—beyond just the affection you gave to your close friends—you hadn't cared at all. you'd even encouraged it, same way you did with top and kelce, offering advice and recommending which flowers to bring, what places to bring them.

not that rafe ever really needed your help. it seems since the day he'd become your best friend, there was a line of girls hanging behind the two of you, seemingly waiting for their turn. at night, when it felt worse—and somehow it always did feel worse in your bed alone, wondering if rafe's was empty too and knowing that it wasn't—you tried to make yourself feel better.

you're still here, and they're not—that's how you tried. it worked for a little.

the newest girl had been around for a record three weeks, so even your usual bandaid for your shattered heart wasn't helping the wound heal.

so far, he'd skipped two meals, a day at the course, and half of a boat day to spend with her instead of you. you, kelce, and top that is. you'd hoped today was going to be different, walking back to top's jeep after lunch to head to the marina.

"you're not coming?" you call out to rafe, who was walking back in the direction of his own car. kelce and top are too far away to hear—getting into the front already. you were always stuck in the back, and you had never minded when rafe was there to keep you company.

rafe flicks his eyes over you, taking in the new dress you really shouldn't have bought just to see what kind of reaction you could get from him. your bag has your bikini in it and one of his button ups to cover you and he sees it poking out—white seersucker temporarily distracting him.

"rafe?"

"yeah. sorry, no. made plans with-"

"yeah, of course you did." you cut him off, and though even a few weeks ago you couldn't have imagined the vitriol in your voice, it comes out all too easy. "have fun."

you try to walk away but his footsteps follow—and damn his long legs, because he gets infront of you before you can escape.

"what, kid? you mad at me?"

you shouldn't say something. you shouldn't say anything.

"we're going to the boat. you said you were coming. i cut fruit for you."

"i-i'm sorry. top will eat it."

"it's not for him. that's not the point." the words teeter on the edge—wanting so badly to tell him that you miss him. that he never hangs out with you anymore, that he's choosing some girl over you and it stings worse than anything you've felt so far.

you're not sure when it started feeling so different—rafe's always done this. and standing two feet from the jeep, kelce sticking his head out the window to yell at you to get in, you realize you're going to reveal yourself if you don't shut up.

"have fun, rafe. sorry. bye."

you don't give him a chance to respond, but it doesn't take anything else for the gears to click. you're too quiet to ever admit it, too shy to say what you're really thinking, and rafe knows that—he's known it since he met you.

standing there, watching you drive away with kelce and top, he briefly wonders what the last time was he did something just with you. he can't even remember it. it all blurs together—late night runs for ice cream and breakfast while top and kelce were still passed out. the sweet way you smile at him and how your expression changes when he goes to the girl who's waiting for him. he gets in the car and can't decide which direction to turn—towards this girl or towards you.

on the boat, you kick up your feet and open your book, trying to drown out the chatter of kelce and top trying to get out of the marina and focus singularly on the romance in your hands rather than the one in your brain. you drown it out a little too much.

"that the one i got you?" rafe asks from somewhere next to you.

"god-" you exclaim, book slipping from your grip and thudding on the boat. "you scared me." catching your breath, you bend to pick up your book, but rafe beats you to it, picking it up and placing it on your lap.

"sorry."

"what happened to your plans?" rafe shrugs. you wish your heartbeat would slow down. you look down at your lap and rafe looks over you—exposed skin shiny with sunblock, a blue bikini he thinks he's never noticed before, matching nails that suit you.

"already had plans with you, remember?"

[capacityfornirvana]

Topic: Lou's (Tommy) contract extension, two key ways Tim Minear took advantage of it, and why I think it means something very promising for the BuckTommy relationship moving forward.

A bit of a long read, but worth it for those constantly biting their nails about Lou’s/Tommy’s current position in the show.

As some or many of us know, Buck and Tommy initially started out as a "multi-episode arc," with Lou's contract being extended sometime later, eventually leading to his participation in the latter half of the season.

Fast forward to now, when we have some small, but I would absolutely argue extremely important, details on how they're using Tommy in the last two episodes of the season.

I'm not going to discuss "There Goes the Groom". I feel like we all know everything there is to say regarding the impact of that episode. So, let's skip to 7x09 and 7x10, shall we?

"Ashes, Ashes" (7x09): Tommy and the 118 are awarded via ceremony for their courageous efforts in rescuing the survivors of the capsized ship at the start of the season.

"All Fall Down" (7x10/Finale): Major spoiler alert for this episode, so continue at your own risk. We also know Bobby is hospitalized, and that numerous characters, including Tommy, are present for a scene (or scenes) at the hospital.

Now, I find it mighty interesting, the two storytelling methods Tim consistently prioritized for the character of Tommy after Lou’s contract extension.

Tim Minear keeps portraying Tommy as someone who makes a strong effort, and who is constantly trying to be present for Buck. We saw that pattern very early on during the initial "multiple-episode arc", and we also saw it in all its romantic comedy glory in "There Goes the Groom" (so much for not referencing that episode). But now, we're going to see it in a much more dramatically powerful way, when Tommy emotionally supports Buck during an undeniably vulnerable and traumatic time.

Tim Minear keeps putting Tommy in scenes with members of the ensemble cast, most of which are in season (series?) defining moments. Tommy was the one who piloted the helicopter to rescue Bobby, Athena, and the other survivors; Tommy directly contributed to Buck’s bisexual awakening via a surprise kiss that became so well known, even non-9-1-1 viewers heard about it; Tommy had a passionate kiss with Buck during the Madney wedding, and even had a memorable moment with the entire ensemble, where all eyes were on him and Buck, and now, Tommy will be awarded for his bravery with key members of the 118 crew. But also, Tommy will very likely interact with the ensemble when he's supporting Buck at the hospital in the season finale.

So, what’s my point? Tim Minear could have easily kept his use of Tommy to extremely superficial levels when he made the decision to extend Lou's contract. Tommy could have had a phone call with Buck here, or a brief light-hearted date there, in one or two of the later episodes, and that could have been enough. But instead, Minear is making a point to constantly integrate Tommy into pivotal moments of the show. Everyone--casual and hardcore fans alike--will remember the cruise ship rescue; Buck's bisexual awakening; the Madney wedding, and the hospital BuckTommy kiss; the award ceremony, and everyone rallying around Bobby at his most vulnerable, when this season is all said and done. Those will be some of the events to remember. And not that I need to point this out, but every single main or supporting character (including Christopher, who we haven't even seen interact with Tommy yet) approves of Tommy in some way. Hell, more than a few have a familiar relationship with him, separate from Buck, and one that is highly positive.

All this to say, I feel very pleased with our current position. I think it's quite clear that Tim Minear sees something wonderful in Tommy as a character, but also in his relationship with Buck. And he's using that extra Tommy time to curate an extremely strong foundation, should the pieces continue fitting together nicely, allowing Tommy to stay long term.

(And as a brief aside, let's not forget the BuckTommy fan edit Minear posted to his Facebook a few days ago. Tim Minear has never struck me as a purposely cruel man, and I think him posting that video mere days before Tommy returns to our screens two weeks in a row, was a pointed move on his part. A positive one.)

Now, I’m not going to sit here and try telling anyone that BuckTommy is an endgame sure thing. No one knows that, including Tim Minear. But what I will say, is that I strongly believe we have a genuine shot at longevity, should no external factors get in the way (scheduling conflicts, budget cuts, actors wanting to leave of their own volition, a different showrunner coming in and wanting something different), and should the overall reception remain positive. And I think there is a lot to support that assertion, happening within the very media we’re currently consuming.

[calcifiedunderland]

Part I, Part II (Here), Part III

Note: thank you all so much for the support!! I’m glad you all like it, here’s the next part :D

Taglist: @recreyomakesdoodles, @aruis4nosleep, @tinseltina, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @takitafulily, @viperwhispered, @peeisgood, @twistedcece

Warnings: Food/eating, rizz (yes this is a warning), terrorized by flamingos in Trey’s part (never thought I’d write that but here we are), cooking burns

—————————————————————————————————🐙♣️🐍

Despite Jamil’s long-winded convincing, you decided to help him with the food later on. Your mind wandered to the upcoming History of Magic test, the one on Atlantica magical history. Mentally, you kicked yourself for missing Azul’s meeting. Sevens could only help you now if there was some clause in your deal about tardiness or skipping.

Taking a deep breath, you stopped in front of the Octavinelle mirror, before plunging in. To your surprise, Azul was waiting for you. He looked up from his watch with a charming smile and an analytical look in his eye. “Prefect!” You smiled sheepishly at him, “I’m sorry about rescheduling, will this be a problem?” Azul waved you off, “of course not! Although I will need compensation for your time.” “O-of course…”

A small chill went through you, in part because you really didn’t want to owe Azul anything, and also because… “It’s chillier in here than I remember, Azul.” “Oh, is it?” Suspiciously unbothered, Azul shrugged off his blue Dorm Uniform shoulder coat, gazing into your eyes as he settled it around your shoulders. Your face flushed at the gesture, feeling warm.

“I apologize, Prefect. Perhaps the cooling system malfunctioned.” You wrapped your fingers around the collar, pulling it closer around you, “Don’t you need this?” Azul smiled charmingly, wrapping an arm firmly around your shoulders, guiding you into the Lounge, “I’ve endured colder temperatures in the Coral Sea, this is manageable.”

He walked you down the hall, taking a longer route to avoid the dining area of the Lounge. And also to spend more time with you. This passed through the aquarium parts of Octavinelle. You watched the fish swim by, fascinated, while subconsciously leaning closer to Azul as you ambled. “Y’know,” you said idly, watching a pink octopus sail through the water, “I’ve always liked looking at the tanks here. It’s…” your mind wandered to Heartslabyul beheadings, “peaceful.”

Azul’s smile sharpened to a sly smirk. “Oh?” He tapped his octopus-headed cane against the floor, “you’d always be welcome here. As a guest, or otherwise.” You frowned slightly, wondering what he meant, “I don’t like the sound of-!”

Discreetly, Azul swapped the cane to his other hand, closer to you, and blocked your foot. You stumbled, distracted by the tanks and his words, but before you could react, two arms wrapped around your waist and back.

“Please be careful, Prefect.” Azul caught you in a dip. You were all but pressing foreheads together, your wide eyes meeting his ocean blue ones. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, pearl.” He pulled you up in one fluid motion, still keeping his arms around you firmly. He brought one hand up to your cheek, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. You were taken aback by the genuine charming smile he gave you, looking into your eyes, “and I do mean that you’d be welcome anytime as my personal… companion.”

He let go of you, leading you to one of the private booths at the VIP area of the Lounge. You heard the murmur of the rest of the dining area, but otherwise it was peaceful here. You slid into the booth, settling your things down. However, before you could get your books out, Azul stopped you, pushing up his glasses. “There still is the subject of payment. Perhaps we can… work out an arrangement?”

Tension filled you. Before you could open your mouth, Azul snapped his fingers. You were startled to see Jade rolling out a food cart, laden with silver-covered dishes. Azul cleared his throat. With a flourish of his magic pen, he began setting the table before your eyes, silverware and napkins floating before you.

Azul held (probably) your plate, and you watched him in awe. You could only watch, bewildered, as he removed the cover with a flourish. It revealed a very fancy pasta dish that was definitely above your nonexistent paygrade under Crowley. The dish was simmering in a beautiful sauce that seemed to sparkle on the plate, garnished with a small sprig of rosemary. Large pink shrimp glistened in the dim light, curling up between sauce-coated pasta dusted with fresh herbs. The salty, buttery scent of seafood made your mouth water, but you held your composure.

“Azul, you didn’t have to-“ You were cut off by a fancy fruit drink sliding across the table, Floyd grinning at you. Azul smiled smugly as the twins stood beside him, “please, I insist! You are my guest, are you not?” Jade hummed, “This is Mostro Lounge’s hospitality!” The twins stood on either side of Azul, and the three of them looked intently at you, waiting. You hesitantly sipped your drink - somehow, he’d gotten your drink preferences just right. It wasn’t too sweet or sour. It was even garnished with a mint leaf.

Azul sighed heavily, suddenly acting woeful. “I went through all this effort to have this prepared personally for you, only for you to deny it…” As if on cue, Jade sniffled, “Has the hospitality of the Lounge finally run out…?” Floyd opted to just stare at you, wide eyes staring straight into your soul as if to make you feel bad. And it worked.

You bit your lip, “well, I guess…” “Wonderful!” Azul immediately shifted, all smiles. “Now, we can study in a bit, I have a few more platters coming later. For now, let’s go over the beginnings of Atlantica history…”

Seven courses later, you could sufficiently say that not even Grim had ever been as full as you. Azul had prepared several Italian seafood dishes for you, ranging from shrimp pastas and whole crab legs that were as long as your forearm, to large red lobster tails with buttery sauces and more mussels than you could slurp down.

In between courses, you and Azul went over topics he knew Trein would test you on, pacing you so you wouldn’t be too full or too hungry. Still, it was a lot. You groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Ugh, I can’t eat another bite…” Between the leftover curry Jamil gave you earlier and Azul’s meals, you couldn’t even move.

Azul hummed, nibbling some grilled chicken, “was there a specific dish you liked in particular? I plan to add new dishes to the menu, and I’d like your input. Consider this compensation for missing our meeting yesterday.”

Odd compensation indeed. Was this the same devious schemer who make so many students work for him as anemones? Still, you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure… thank you, Azul. This helped me a lot.” By now, you felt much better about the test - he’d even pulled out his own from last year (of course with full marks and extra credit).

Azul nodded, taking your empty plate away. “Of course, I’ll always help out a soul in need! And it’s not often I personally entertain guests.” He looked away, staring at his gloves, “For you, I’d make an exception.”

You may have been grateful for all the food, but even you could tell when Azul was showing himself up for something. Still, as housewarden and the leader behind Mostro Lounge, you still felt touched. “I appreciate it,” you said evenly, meaning it, “thank you.”

A self-assured smile grew on Azul’s face as he handed you a decadent dessert, watching your expression carefully as you dug in, “The pleasure is all mine.”

—•—🐙🐍♣️—•—

You blinked blearily at your phone beeping on the nightstand. You huffed, sitting up in bed. It’s still dark out, you thought, Jamil seriously does this every day?

After meeting him in the cafeteria, you promised you’d help Jamil taste test some foods for Kalim. You couldn’t lie, you felt flattered he trusted you with the task - he was always meticulous with Kalim’s foods. It was alarming how many times Kalim had been poisoned, so Jamil handled his dishes almost every day. Your heart went out to the guy - Jamil probably gave Vil and Jack a run for their madols with how early he woke up to prep food. He’s easily one of the busiest people on campus, you thought.

After getting ready, you headed to the Hall of Mirrors into Scarabia. You swung the kitchen door open, noticing Jamil already had a pot boiling merrily on the stove. The fragrant smell of curry and spices filled the air. Despite your tiredness, you smiled.

“Prefect, you’re here,” Jamil offered you an easy smile. He tossed his bangs back with a flick of his head, and you snorted, “dramatic much?” He rolled his eyes, but you caught the smile on his face. He turned his attention to the simmering pot, stirring it with the wooden spoon. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he confessed. You angled your head, putting on an apron he set aside for you, “Why wouldn’t I?” Jamil chuckled to himself, crossing his arms, “I just meant that it’s early, and… I appreciate your company.” You beamed at him, face feeling rosy, “Well, I don’t mind it. I wanted to help you, after all.”

Jamil smiled and picked up some curry sauce with a spoon. “Here, try this.” He put his hand under the spoon to your lips, fingers barely grazing your chin, standing close enough that you could feel his breath. You flushed at the closeness, but it left as you tried the curry. You hummed at the curry’s taste, closing your eyes. “Mmm, delicious,” you licked your lips. The curry was perfectly creamy and spiced, and warmth spread through your chest. You missed the fond look Jamil gave you, his eyes darting to your lips before clearing his throat.

“I was about to prepare some pita, would you like to help?” Your eyes lit up, and you nodded, “of course!” A few minutes later, you were carefully rolling out the pita dough as Jamil observed you. As you rolled out the dough, it started sticking to the rolling pin. You frowned, and Jamil walked over to you from his chopping board.

“Here, like this.” He took some flour and sprinkled it on the board, before standing behind you. He reached under your arms and removed the dough from the rolling pin, before setting it on the flour and placing your hands on the handles. “I’ll show you,” he said softly in your ear, the two of you almost cheek-to-cheek. You weren’t sure if your body felt hot from his closeness or the stove heat.

He gently put his hands on the rolling pin handle atop yours, rolling out the pita dough firmly. You moved forward a bit, face burning. You tried to focus instead on how Jamil was rolling out the dough, and at last he removed his hand. “Do you understand now?” You nodded rapidly, zeroing in on the dough and trying hard not to make eye contact. Jamil’s grey eyes bored into your figure, and he took a small step to you when the door slammed open.

“Jamil!~” Kalim streamed in, beaming, “I’m back from club activities! I- Oh, hello (Name)! What are you doing here?” You and Jamil sprang away from each other, and you forced a calm look, “hey, Kalim-“ Jamil cut in, putting a hand on your forearm, “They were helping me prepare food, I asked them to.”

Kalim nodded, grinning, “sounds great! It smells amazing, I can’t wait to try it! I’ll get the dorm together!” Before you could politely decline, he sped off to who knows where. Jamil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, “My apologies, Prefect.” You laughed, feeling flustered, “Its fine,�� you cleared your throat, muttering, “its a bit warm in here…” Jamil rose an eyebrow, “I can open a window if you’d like?” You nodded. As cooler air rushed in, you mused to yourself, “Its funny how the dorms are all different. Its hot in Scarabia, and cold in Octavinelle.” Jamil frowned, “That’s… specific.”

You elaborated, “I was there yesterday, Azul was helping me.” Jamil’s eyes narrowed, and he nonchalantly turned to the pita cooking on the stopetop. He flipped one with his hands, feigning concern as he looked back at you, “Are you sure Azul had good intentions? I don’t want you being tied into a contract.”

You waved him off, “Don’t worry, we worked it out! I made sure he wasn’t asking for anything too great.” At Jamil’s silence, you continued, “Its fine, Azul was helping me study for my History test, the one I had a few days ago. You know how Trein is.”

Jamil turned his attention to the pita, thinking back to last winter. Azul doesn’t offer his help on tests without some payment, and going by last winter, he might’ve made (Name) work with him without pay. Or at the very least, might have made a pass for Ramshackle. But you weren’t stupid, Jamil thought. Just horribly dense at times.

If you said you didn’t owe him anything too great, then perhaps Azul’s scheme was still underway. Still, Jamil would keep an eye on you.

“Yes, I understand,” he nodded, finished cooking the last pita and turning the stove off. “Still, I do hope you’re taking care of yourself. You helped me tremendously today, Prefect,” Jamil crossed his arms, angling his head to look at you. “I’m glad I could help,” you chuckled, taking the apron off, “anyway, I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. Ace and Deuce said Heartslabyul was running behind on Unbirthday Party preparations, and I promised Trey I’d help with the baking.” Jamil nodded, before grabbing some food containers.

“You should take some of this,” he began ladling curry into one container, and pita into another. You protested, thinking about the food containers packed away in your fridge from Azul that you’d barely made a dent in, even with Grim’s help. “Jamil, really, its fine-” He cut you off by putting them in your arms, “I insist. You helped make it, it’s only fair you take some back.” You went quiet for a few minutes, staring into Jamil’s eyes before murmuring with a small smile, “alright. Thanks, Jamil.”

—•—🐙🐍♣️—•—

Finally, you could relax now!

Your History test went well thanks to Azul’s tutoring, and you could rest easier since Jamil gave you some extra food from cooking for Kalim. Somehow, Jamil’s cooking got more delicious after each meal! And soon, you could get dessert from Trey!

The unbirthday party Trey invited you to was tomorrow, but the third year wanted some help baking a few last-minute pastries. You felt bad about having him make a second trip to deliver them. That basket was no joke - it was heavy with breads, croissants, a few muffins, and even Napoleon pastries and strawberry turnovers dusted with powdered sugar and frosting. For Trey to take it to and back, twice, all for you? You were very happy, and so was Grim.

So, when Trey asked for some help, you didn’t mind at all. He’d tell you what to do, and you’d do it - hopefully sneaking a few bites of dessert under his and Riddle’s eyes.

You knocked on the kitchen door before entering. Trey looked over, as did Ace, Deuce, a few first years. “Prefect,” Trey smiled at you, crossing his arms. He looked back at the group, “Once you’re done with that, make sure you set up the tables for the party. No slacking, understand?”

“Yep, sounds good!” Ace quipped before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Heard you and the Vice-Housewarden are gonna be bakin’ together!” Ace smirked, “try not to miss me n’ Juice while we’re out wrangling the flamingos!” Deuce shook his head with a frown, “don’t tease them, Ace. Good luck with the baking, Prefect,” he smiled at you, before a shiver ran down his and Ace’s spines.

“You two aren’t slacking off so soon, right? The Housewarden won’t be happy.” Trey seemed to loom over them, a stern look in his eye seeming to pierce them. “No, sir!” the two of them scuttled out of the kitchens, while you stared wide-eyed at Trey. You weren’t used to him being so serious. Trey looked over your shoulder at Ace and Deuce leaving. Ace turned, flashing Trey a thumbs up and blowing Trey a mock-kiss, while Deuce smacked his shoulder and pulled him off. “Um, Trey?” you asked. His attention snapped to you, and he gave you an easy smile, “Now then, ready to start?”

You nodded quickly, “S-sure, I’m glad I could help. What should I do?” Trey thought, then took out a piping bag, “I thought I’d have you make a few things on your own. How does that sound?” Your eyes widened, “but-!” he handed you the piping bag with a mixing bowl. He looked at you gently, “It won’t be too difficult, and I’ll be here to help you.” He gently grasped your hand, and his eyes softened. “Just follow my instructions.” Your face warmed. You nodded.

Following his instructions were easy enough, and soon you were piping some madeleine cookies onto a sheet while Trey went to go get more flour from the stockroom. As you stepped back, admiring your work, you heard Trey walk back in. “Prefect, could you get the measuring cup?” You looked up, suddenly gasping. “Trey!”

Trey walked in with a massive 20 pound bag of flour over his shoulder. The bag was at least two feet long, and his arm wrapped around the large base of it to keep it stable. You dropped the piping bag, about to rush over, but he chuckled and waved you off, “I carry flour bags this heavy all the time back at the bakery, even heavier.” He calmly walked to the table and set the bag down, scooping out flour.

You eyed him, relenting since he didn’t seem to be struggling, at all. You handed him the measuring cup, and went back to the cookies while Trey sifted the flour. You hummed as you placed them in the oven, hands on your hips, admiring your work. You glanced over at Trey, who was now rolling out a thick dough.

He’d rolled up his sleeves to show off his forearms and parts of his biceps, and despite yourself, you stared. Damn, no wonder he didn’t have trouble carrying that bag. Trey’s arms were very built. His biceps bulged and tensed as he expertly rolled the dough into thin sheets.

Trey was a pretty tall guy, but it never crossed your mind that he was that strong, especially now as he delicately folded cold butter into the dough sheets to make puffed pastry. He carefully handled the dough, then went back to firmly rolling it out into thin sheets again. Your mind wandered, and you found yourself (respectfully) staring at him, watching his focused expression.

You averted your eyes when he finally glanced up, fixing his glasses, “everything alright?” You coughed, “Yeah, I got some flour up my nose.” He chuckled, fixing his glasses. You cleared your throat and went to the oven to check on the cookies, and you missed the way his expression softened at you.

The timer went off, and you cleared your throat, “I’m going to take the cookies out, Trey,” you called. You slid your mittens on, and opened the oven. Hot air rushed into your face, and you took a step back before carefully taking out the first tray. You’d made two trays of cookies, and because of the oven’s size, you’d had to put one behind the other.

You set down the first tray, and moved to carefully take the second one from behind. You’d just wrapped your fingers around the base when outside, you heard Ace and Deuce yell. You thought nothing of it, when suddenly something crashed through the kitchen doors, making both you and Trey jump.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!” A pink flamingo barreled into the kitchen. Ace and Deuce ran in. You yelled in pain, dropping the tray back onto the oven shelf, yanking your arm out. When you were startled, you’d jumped and grazed your lower arm on the hot wire oven shelf. An angry burn mark appeared on the bare skin on your arm. While the three of them cornered the flamingo, you quickly grabbed the tray of cookies and shut the oven off before it burned down the dorm. You breathed heavily as Ace wrapped his arms around the bird, and he and Deuce apologized over and over. Trey led them out, and you examined your arm.

“(Name)?!” Trey rushed over to you. By now the pain was a dull throb, but Trey still took your wrist gently and examined your arm. “Are you alright?” He asked calmly, although you knew better from seeing the panic in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay, I got startled with the flamingo while taking out the cookies.” You nodded to the two trays, one slightly more cooked than the other, “They’re both fine, though.” Trey frowned, “what about you? Let me wrap your arm.”

You shook your head, “It’s just a little burn Trey, nothing-” “Sit, (Name).” Trey pulled out a stool, and you sat down, not bothering to argue. He took a cookie, now cooled, off the tray and handed it to you. You wordlessly took it and munched on it. You began to feel better as the sweet taste melted in your mouth. Trey opened a cupboard, taking out some medical supplies, and began applying a salve. You hissed when it touched your burn. “I’m sorry,” Trey began wrapping your arm with a bandage.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling the tension thicken, “This seems like a lot for a little burn.” Trey chuckled, “I wouldn’t want it to get worse. After all, I can’t have my favorite baking assistant get hurt.” Your face warmed as you made eye contact. Trey smiled fondly at you. “Want another one? It’ll make you feel better,” he waved another cookie at you, and you took it, averting your eyes shyly.

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” you said. He nodded, putting the supplies back. “Sometimes my little siblings get hurt while baking, so I’ve done this before.” He rolled up his sleeves to show a three inch burn scar on his upper forearm, “I’ve gotten a few myself, so I know they hurt.” You gently touched his scar, making his eyes widen. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back.

“A-anyway,” Trey looked over at the baked goods, “I think that’s enough for today. This is good for tomorrow,” he smiled at you. “You’re free to go, Prefect, you should rest.” You nodded, feeling tired from the day’s events. As you gathered your things, Trey stopped in front of you. You grinned, taking the box from him, smelling the cookies and cake through the lid.

You didn’t miss the soft look from Trey as he gently rubbed your upper arm, “this is for you, see you tomorrow for the party.” He winked, and you felt your face flush.

As you walked to Ramshackle, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Trey: Hey

Trey: Don’t forget to brush your teeth after eating! See you tomorrow :)

You sighed, laughing to yourself as you walked into your dorm.

————————————————————🐙🐍♣️

lmao while i was writing Trey’s part, ‘tray’ kept autocorrecting to ‘Trey’

Thank you all for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it, likes comments and reblogs are forever appreciated! I love reading your comments, esp the chaotic ones lol

The next part should be the last one! Take care shrimpies~~~

[thedeviltohisangel]

“Are you actually blushing?” “No! Shut up.” & “awww did I flustered you?” For Cass/Bucky please

BLUSHING PROMPT ERA

when you all aren't requesting pow camp angst, you all want more of cass and the egan family. my gift to my few fluff lovers.

Penelope's wails had quieted to tired little whimpers as John paced around the backyard of his childhood home. Her and her brother had been perfectly well behaved on the flight from Virginia to Wisconsin but while Gale had fallen asleep during his bedtime bottle, Penny had decided to test the capacity of her lungs in the midwestern air.

"It's okay, my sweet girl. I know you've had a long day. You must be so tired," John cooed to his baby daughter as he bounced her gently. Her teary eyes were looking up at the stars as he pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head. He hoped Cass had fallen asleep. They both had been running on empty since they became parents three months ago.

"Coming out here always use to work when you were as little as her." John turned to see his mother standing in the doorway to the back of the house, watching her son and granddaughter with a smile on her face.

"Did she wake you? I'm sorry, ma, I tried to get her out here as quick as I could." His mother shook her head and reached for her granddaughter, John passing her off and collapsing into a lawn chair as she took over the calming, rocking movements he had been trying for what felt like hours.

Penelope looked at her grandmother with curiosity and slowly went silent as she grew comfortable in her arms. "How come you and my wife can just look at them and they stop crying but they make me work for it all night?"

"Maternal instinct, Johnny. Cassandra seems to be adjusting to motherhood quite well." John nodded as he took the sleeping baby back from his mother and held her against his chest.

"She's a natural. Barely blinked when the doctors said there was another one right behind Penny." John had been in the hallway raging at the medical staff that was trying to keep him from seeing his wife. His mother didn't need to know that part.

"And you? I remember that one summer you helped with a baseball team, you were so good with them."

"I think I'm getting the hang of it. The half of them they get from me is causing us the most problems but that is to be expected." His mother laughed and he let it wrap around him like a hug. "I never thought about a future that looked like this until I fell in love with her." John kissed the top of his daughter's head and pressed his finger into her little palm that was resting against his chest, her fingers curling around his and his heart skipping a beat.

"I'm glad. I was worried after the last time you were here." His mother hadn't mentioned their time in Wisconsin when she had come with his sisters to South Carolina for the wedding but that doesn't mean she hadn't thought about it.

"That was...we were in a dark place. I didn't mean for it to boil over here but I saw that photo and got that letter and..." He hugged his daughter tighter. He had stormed out of his parents house that night without his wedding band. With the intent of helping Cass book a one way trip to South Carolina to be rid of him and their marriage and the mess he was causing in her life. Had said a million things he regretted and had drank himself to oblivion at the local bar over the idea that he had finally fucked up enough to lose her.

"But now you've got these little blessings. And that absolutely wonderful little dog, John, he really is so handsome." Butter was probably on his half of the bed upstairs as they spoke, sleeping like a rock in Cass' arms. John hadn't even tried to fight bringing him on the trip and hadn't looked at the final cost of bringing a dog on the airplane. His wife assured him it was pennies for the joy it would bring her and the kids to have him tag along.

"Butter? He's trying to replace me."

"Well, I'm sure Cassandra appreciates that he doesn't talk back." John looked up at the sky and prayed for strength. Why did all the women in his life have to be against him?

-

"Oh, Cass, he's such a handsome little devil just look at him!" Gale giggled as one of his aunt's kissed his cheeks and tickled at his sides. "How on earth did he come from someone like my brother?"

"Your brother is plenty handsome," Cass offered with a smile as she adjusted Penny in her lap, the little girl chewing on the foot of one of the stuffed animals she had just been gifted.

"Don't tell me he makes you do all the work during the making part."

"Yeah, John, your wife deserves to be lavished more often than you do!" his other sister chimed in. He poked his head out from where he was preparing bottles in the kitchen.

"You have no clue how often I lavish my wife!"

"She could always use more." Butter barked in agreement.

"Are you actually blushing?" John asked with a smirk as he offered Cass one bottle and his sister the other.

"No! Shut up." It wasn't that Cass was some kind of prude when it came to talking about her sex life with John. She just didn't want his mother overhearing any conversations of baby making and lavishing.

"Did I fluster you, baby?" John nuzzled his nose into her neck to make her laugh as she lovingly looked on at Penelope eating her second breakfast.

"Just got me thinking about lavishing now is all."

"Yeah? You in need of some?" John said, his voice dropping an octave. She bit her bottom lip and nodded, leaning in to nip at his lips. "Fuck. Yeah, I think you need some real bad, baby."

He was never happier to have his sisters around to baby sit than he was on his knees in the backseat of his old car, his wife's legs over his shoulders and his face buried under her skirt.

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader I| Chapter: 05 ୨୧

Prev || 05 Un? Fortunate || Next

⎯ "Just because you're a part of the student council doesn't mean you're allowed to get all cozy with Asano."  [Name] was sort of familiar with the student, a member of the fan club dedicated to the chairman's son, Asano Gakushu. 'It's way too early for this.' 

They'd never talked, but that didn't mean she hadn't had this same conversation with other people. It was as if his fan club had a precedent of hating [Name] before admitting members.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, but I can assure you there's nothing going on between-" The girl kept walking, harshly brushing her shoulder on [Name] in the process. She could barely get a word in.

It really wasn't like that. There was no reason for anyone to believe so, sure, she wasn't exactly out in the open about it but she was in a relationship. She isn't the type to mess with other guys behind Karma's back. She guessed it was the result of being the only girl on the council. They overanalyzed her every little step.

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me."  Those were Karma's words from a few days ago, and [Name] was starting to consider them.

She couldn't decide if it was worth it or not. She was on top of her academics and as annoying as they were, spending so much time around the council meant the members grew on her.

'I need  something to drink...'

Out where the vending machines were she saw a familiar face, his blue hair tied up in pigtails. It had been so long since [Name] talked to Nagisa. As she was about to say hi, she noticed the green-haired girl who had been with him at the café. Her name was Kayano if she remembered correctly.

She didn't want to be rude and interrupt, that was the excuse she was going with. In full honesty, she was curious as to what Nagisa was doing with a girl, listening in for a bit wouldn't hurt.

"Explosives, guns, knives. I'm starting to doubt it's even possible to kill him." They were hovered over a notebook as if they were trying to solve a thousand-piece puzzle.

Some kind of game? That's what [Name] was wondering.

"but your notes are great, it's cool you're so observant Nagisa... what were we here for again?"

"Karma's strawberry milk."

"Yeah... He's a bit addicted don't you think?"

"Not as bad as your pudding thing... uh, hold on."

With instincts like Nagisas, he picked up on an uncounted-for presence. He shot Kayano a look, instructing her to quiet down with his eyes.

"[Name?]"

"Hey Nagisa! Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were busy."

"It's okay, How have you been?" He smiled warmly, internally he was praying you didn't hear anything strange.

"I'm good! I've missed you a lot, we haven't talked in forever!"

"We should hang out one of these days! Oh, I should introduce you, Kayano this is [Name], [Name] Kayano." He gestures between the both girls.

"Nice to meet you." Kayano shakes her hand.

"Why are there two types of strawberry milk here? Kayano, do you remember which one he gets?" asks Nagisa.

"No, just take a guess."

[Name] types on the vending machine's number pad. "He likes both but prefers this one, They taste the same to me though." She shrugs and almost hands the milk box to Nagisa, but she pulls back out of his reach at the last second.

"Can I go with you? I'll drop you off at your class!"

Nagisa smiles "That would be fun but you have your own class to get to."

"It's fine! I usually worried about skipping but only for a little won't hurt."

Nagisa is hesitant when he says "You'll face harsher consequences since you're in council." He didn't want her to feel rejected but if they walked together there was a pretty good chance she'd catch sight of Korosensei.

"The opposite actually, I get away with way more by being in council. It works out! Let's go I wanna see Karma."

Kayano yanks the milk from [Names] grasp. It's very abrupt and leaves an uncomfortable feeling in everyone. [Name] feels embarrassed, she's internally hoping they can't see it on her face. The feel becomes uncomfortable for a second, Kayano looks down not meeting [Names] eyes.

In an attempt to fix things [Name] apologizes, "Sorry, I get the hint, see you Nagisa." She smiles trying not to let things get more uncomfortable for anyone. They probably want to be alone.

"It's not like that! We'd like you to come but we'd get in a lot of trouble if anyone saw you with us, over the weekend we should meet up."

"Alright, we can do that." They wave goodbye to each other.

⊹₊ ⋆ Time skip ୨୧ ⊹₊ ⋆

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me." [Name] and Karma were lying on his bedroom's wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about whatever topic bubbled up on their minds.

"Hey Karma, do you really think I should drop down to E class?"

He looks at her curiously "What's got you thinking of that?"

"I was thinking of what you said the other day, maybe that is the only way we can be together."

"You don't have to sacrifice your grades for a few more hours with me, clinger."

"I wasn't gonna, it would take too long to get me to fail everything! Remind me why they decided to put you in that class again?"

"I broke a guy's arm." He says with not a second thought.

[Name] sighs "I can't do that..."

"I could do it for you, and you can take allll the credit. I got ways to make 'em play along!" If it were anyone else talking about this with so much excitement [Name] would question their mental state, but it's Karma.

"That's not what I meant... but thanks for having my back!"

Karmas is not sure about this, He knows [Names] fears and she's got lots of them. Spiders, thunder, heights, and much more, He questions if her heart could handle seeing a three-meter-tall octopus who might be the reason the world ends. Ultimately Karma decides to indulge in it, it would be nice having her around, on top of that she'd get along with his friends and definitely like the teachers more.

He thinks back to all the other stuff he pulled, none of which worked out but trying again wouldn't hurt, at least not him.

"You can try pulling pranks but it wasn't that effective for me."

"Help me think of something?"

"I wouldn't let you do it without me."

For now there was nothing to worry about, no one to distract them from one another, just the two of them.

note: sorry for still taking so long on request :,( I’m trying to balance the post of request and On Purpose, Ive also been reallll busy. Does anyone actuallyyyyy read this fic?? the updates are kinda just setting everything up rn, more Karma soon!

[danieyells]

Think about this idea! It's been almost a year and you didn't find the anomaly or how to solve your curse, most of the boys know but aren't really keeping track, a year is so far away and it slips away so fast but suddenly the MC one day starts skipping some classes or acting odd so one of the boys (for special angst one who has a crush on mc but didn't confess yet) ask them what is going on and they fall in the realization when they say "one week left"

I was trying to take a nap when i remembered this ask and this idea clawed its way into my head. So hey.

It's not quite what your idea was, but I hope you like it anyway, anon.

Frostheim.

Vagastrom.

Jabberwock.

Sinostra.

Hotarubi.

Obscuary.

Mortkranken.

Even the previously missing Dionysia ghouls.

You'd met and bonded with all of the ghouls in Darkwick, and even a few outside of it. You'd gone on missions. You'd even begun to get the ghouls to capture anomalies instead of kill them. The anomalies were being studied and discoveries were being made.

But none relating to your own curse.

The Gala came and went, the Laurel Crown awarded. The third years had moved on to become fourth years. You'd had many hard and tearful goodbyes. Promises to meet again that you hoped could come true. Some more firm understandings that this was goodbye, and wishes of good luck.

Soon the new first years would be coming and they would be assigned their houses.

Soon. . . .

"Dandelion?" The temporary Captain of Jabberwock leaned over to stare at you, a curious look on his face. Towa had been inconsolable for a while after Haru had left, and Jabberwock had been plagued by violent storms of snow and hail and lightning. Eventually it all calmed down. You hoped the quieter and natural atmosphere of Jabberwock could heal your stressing heart. All it did was leave you to your thoughts. Thoughts that must have shown on your face. Towa seemed to have had gotten over his own problems, and seemed back to his usual self. His arms looped around you, feeling like warmth and sunshine incarnate. No wonder plants lived him so much. "Here you go! A hug to make your sad face go away!"

You laugh weakly. But it doesn't take the dread away. You turn into him and smell the sweet and floral scent about him, clinging and trying to hide your woes so he wouldn't begin to feel bad again. You thank him, and he gives you a squeeze.

"That didn't help?" Somehow you felt bad for not reassuring him. "What's the matter? Do you miss Haru too?"

You did miss Haru. You missed all your friends and loved ones.

You were going to miss all of your friends and loved ones.

"Whaddyou mean? Tell me." He gave you a squeeze of encouragement. You choked back a sob, but barely managed to whimper out your woes.

"One week left. . . ."

"One week. . .?" In one week the new first years would arrive and be assigned their houses. In one week, it will have had been a year since that concert, since that anomaly, since-- "Oh! Your curse!!"

Part of you wanted to feel angry at how Towa didn't seem bothered by it. He cuddled you, petting your hair. "You're gonna die soon, huh?"

How blunt. He was like this a lot, dismissive about life. Sometimes it scared you, but in ways it was comforting to hear it said so straightforward. Yes, you were going to die soon. Someone said it. Someone acknowledged it. Someone remembered.

"That's okay! Everybody dies eventually!"

"But I don't want to die, Towa!" You cry, snapping your head up to look at him desperately. He parted his lips as of in surprise. "I'm not ready to die! I-- I--"

"Hmm." Towa looked at you with contemplative pity. "So you don't wanna die yet? You wanna keep living?"

You nod. Did Towa think so little of his own life that he couldn't comprehend wanting it to continue? Or was he just that unempathetic? Maybe you didn't mean much to him, and he didn't care if you were gone the way he cared when Haru left.

"Why don't you ask me for help?"

What?

"What do you mean?" You looked at him inquisitively. Towa smiled back down at you, beguiling, lavender hair framed by an inky black sky.

"Why don't you ask me to save you? So you don't die as soon."

You shook your head. "Towa, I was cursed by some anomaly--we never found another one like it, I--I can still remember its eye and nothing that erases my memory works to make me forget. Everytime I close my eyes lately I see it like--like it's coming after me, like it's getting closer. I see that eye in other people's eyes, I--"

"Do you see it in mine?" It's eerily still and quiet in Jabberwock today. You look in his eyes. It's easy, like nothing but you two exists right now. "Is it there?"

"No." You swallow. You don't remember standing. You don't remember Towa standing, either. "No, it's not."

"I can help you. I promise." Why was it so dark? The sky wasn't clouded, and Towa wasn't upset. You didn't remember it being dark when you came here. The warmth of the sun was your only comfort alone with your thoughts. "You just have to ask me. Ask me to help you."

"But. . .how will you help me?" As a matter of fact, it was midday when you came here, wasn't it? Why could Towa talk in the first place. "What can you do that no one else could? Wh-why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Do you want me to grant your wish? Or not?" You could see Towa clearly, but the deep darkness around you reflected no light in his eyes. It reminded you of being in the sunken ship disguised as an undersea palace, when those anomalies tried to keep you from leaving. You didn't feel cold like that time though. You felt warm. You almost felt safe.

"I. . .I. . . ." Something told you to run away. For a moment, you saw the anomaly's eye again. Towa looked irritated, and suddenly it was gone, as if frightened away. You heard thunder crack in the distance. "I want to live. . . ."

"Tell me what you wish for." He smiled at you. It was welcoming and pitying. Like finding a lost child. "I'll keep your safe."

His face was very close, your eyes locked in his. You felt weaker than ever with him holding you like this. The words spilled out of your mouth.

"I wish my curse was gone. . .I wish I could live. . .please help me, Towa. . . ."

Towa smiled and pet your hair. Then he stepped back from you. You clung to his sleeves, afraid of being abaoned to the emptiness around you. Between you, a pale plant grew to eye level, flowering before your very eyes.

"Eat it."

The plant moved itself to your mouth. You parted your lips, allowing it in, and closed your teeth and lips around it like you'd done with so many plants Towa fed you. It ripped itself away from you, and you chewed it. Your mouth was filled with complex flavors, sweet and bitter and painful and unfamiliar. Your senses were filled with something soft and numbing. But you still felt the strong press of Towa's lips on yours, pushing the flower down your throat. Somehow, you didn't gag from the pressure.

When you swallowed, a wave of nausea hit you. The sickly feeling was followed by electricity, jolting through your mouth and down your throat and up your spine, into your stomach and brain. You felt it travel to the tips of your fingers and pores, arcing across every hair along your body.

And then the sharp pain and blast of fog filled your head.

It felt like roots implanting themself through your whole body, as if replacing every part of your nervous system. You opened your mouth ask what was happening, but all that left you was a scream so loud it hurt your throat. Your eyes and face burned with your tears.

You dug your nails into Towa's arms as he pulled Way, and he watched on without helping as you began to vomit. It hurt. All of this hurt. You vomited burning and freezing mud, and what you vaguely grasped to be seeds. The empty world around you seemed to consume the mess, drinking it up and burying the seeds into the invisible earth.

As you heaved and gasped when it finally came down, you watched another plant grow. This one was familiar. It flowered quickly, and you remembered the flowers of the anomaly that cursed you. You saw them flower and grow, and you gasped, yanking your hands away from Towa to cover your eyes.

Not again, you didn't want to see the eye again.

It wasn't until you heard lightning and hail, feeling the fall of it directly in front of you that you realized you couldn't remember how the eye looked anymore. The memory was simply gone.

"Did you feel it? It was like being struck by lightning, right?" Towa's voice echoed around you jovially. "That means we're soulmates now. Because your soul is mine now. Our pact is sealed. And your curse is gone."

"Wha--ow. . . ." You snapped your head up, pulling your hands away from your eyes to look at Towa, only to shield your eyes from the bright, warm sun of Jabberwock. It burned, after being in the dark so long--and after the sensory overload after eating that flower. Looking down and shielding your eyes from the light, you saw something smouldering between yours and Towa's feet, surrounded by charred petals. "What. . .what did you do, Towa. . .?"

Towa made an inquisitive sound at you, tilting his head. He once again looked innocent. He once again couldn't speak under the light of day. He smiled and giggled, covering your eyes and kissing you again, humming happily against your lips. From being around him for over a year you'd already begun to understand him when he couldn't speak. He was reassuring you. You'll be okay, he says. You don't need to be afraid anymore.

"But. . .my soul. . .a pact. . .like a. . .?"

Like a demon?

Was Towa a demon?

He pat you on the back, silently saying not to worry. And then, he leapt into the air, off to somewhere else in the former safari area, leaving you to pull yourself together.

The eye was gone from your mind. You couldn't remember anything besides the flowers and their charred state in the beautiful green grass of Jabberwock.

You held your stomach, feeling it knot with nerves.

The curse was gone. You'd live. . .but now your life was in Towa's hands.

You began to leave Jabberwock, turning over in your head how you would tell Cornelius what happened. You'd made a pact with a demon to spare your life. . .but the demon was on campus. He was a threat. He had power. A lot of power.

The moment you started to consider telling them it was Towa, you screamed out in pain. Electricity ran through your very existence, not just your body but your soul too. A warning.

You caught your breath where you collapsed in the grass, one of the anomalous animals nervously sniffing at you until your rising startled it into fleeing. Right. You couldn't share who the demon was. But you could say there had been one and that your life was safe now. . that you were aware of.

Once your shaking legs were steady and the phantom pain subsided, you made your way out into the main grounds and towards the main building. It was probably important that you share the news. . .whether or not it was good.

[outrunningthedark]

I would understand the outrage against tommy had the the last time we saw him, he left in a way still framed as a bully and bigot and on bad terms with hen and chim. But that’s not what happened. When he left, it was clear they were all friends and fairly close too. Then we continue to get a couple random mentions of him between season 3-7 from chim. Then he comes back in season 7 and why does he come? because CHIM calls him up. and did y’all see Hen’s reaction to seeing Tommy? She most definitely was pleased to see him. If he wants Buck’s love interest they would not be so obsessed with his behaviour from 15-20 years ago

All of this. Ofc. I'm ngl, sometimes when I see a Buddie stan bringing up how he mistreated Hen and Chim I have to wonder whether they actually sat through non-Buddie episodes pre-season 4 or if they just skip to the parts where things got "good". Because Tommy's "redemption" was very much established before he ever came back this season. Does that mean people have to like it? Nope. But characters getting redemption arcs with little to no build up, and even if they don't "deserve it", is what this show does. If that's such a problem...why are those people even watching? Why are they still here? And if the answer is for Buddie...fandom isn't dictating canon. People need to separate what they ship from what they see on screen when they're not the ones writing the scripts. Also, gonna say something that might come as a shock, but as much fun as BuckTommy fans are having with the invisible string theory (that they are not taking as seriously as others think, lol), Tim could not have predicted that he would actually get approval for Bi Buck nor that Lou would be willing to take on the role as the LI. Would Tommy have been an asshole if Tim thought "We might be able to bring him back for Buck in 5 years?" Obviously not. But Tim wanted to introduce a LI with a connection to the 118, with a connection to Buck's co-workers and friends so that it wasn't just some guy showing up with no last name and no backstory. (And this is what REALLY has the fandom so angry, right? He's not getting the same treatment as Marisol.) It just so happens that THAT guy was Tommy.

[yanderederee]

TummyAche

a/n: tummy ache girlies unite; Hiragi is here to save the day lol. Please love him with me♡

ct: reader is straightforward and dorky♡

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

The day began as it would any other for Hiragi Toma. As always, he went about his morning, paroling the attentively. Aa uneventful as it was, the cool morning air and lull of pedestrian idle commotion served to tire the delinquent more than usual. So, en route back to school, he decided to stop by the vending machine for a quick black coffee.

However, hidden just beyond the vending machines broad stature, he noticed a human figure huddled over. He easily could have missed it had he not been so close. Cautiously, Hiragi toed in closer.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, folding down to one knee to reach your current height. You gasped, not expecting for another person’s presence. “Sorry.” He quickly apologized.

You shook your head, groaning quietly. “You’re fine… my stomach just… really hurts…”

Hiragi nodded understandably. “Well, luckily for you,” he hummed, pulling out his tried and true Gas-kun 10. “I happen to have stomach medicine on me. Here, it’s chewable.” He offered you one of the small pills.

Awkarddky, you felt embarrassed having to admit, “I don’t like the powdery taste a chewable pill leaves behind…” Hiragi chuckled, and stood to his full height.

“Can’t blame ya there. Hang tight,” He examined the contents of the vending machine, quickly spotting a green tea option. That would probably be best for a stomach ache, right? After purchasing both of your drinks, he squatted back beside you, handing you the tea and medicine.

Quickly, you took both ingestibles’. After taking one, two, three, four large gulps of the offered tea, you released the can with a quiet ‘haaaaah’.

Though it may not have been your preferred drink of choice, it was rather good. “Do you just… always carry stomach medicine?” You asked, finally taking a good look at the kind bystander.

Hiragi laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… I get stomach aches pretty often, so it’s pretty much essential.” You giggled at his reply. “That’s unexpected.”

Together, you shared a few more words, a few more giggles. Until eventually, you could tell his attention was beginning to drift, as though he needed to be elsewhere soon.

“Say, what’s your name?” You asked, finally feeling well enough to stand.

“Hiragi Toma, 3rd year at Furin high school. Nice to meet you.”

You smiled at his introduction. He was kind, and easy to talk to. By the looks of him, in his tight leather pants and the dangerous aura radiating off of him, you were pleasantly surprised. Tall, respectful and thoughtful— and by your standards, very hot… just your type.

“Say… I hope this doesn’t come off strong but… can I… have your contact information?” You asked nervously.

Hiragi became baffled, eyes wide in disbelief. No one’s ever asked for his contact information so quickly upon meeting him. Sure, he thought you were cute; the way you laughed made his heart skip a little, and the way he felt so calm with your presence had made him let his guard down.

…But it wouldn’t be a bad thing to become closer to you…

“S…sure… is my number fine?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Days after your aforementioned meeting of one another, Hiragi found himself becoming more and more infatuated with you. For some reason, any free thought that wasn’t taken up by Bofurin, Umemiya, or his unpunctual juniors— had become filled with little thoughts about you.

Wondering if you got stomach aches often as well. Were you eating well? Hopefully. Maybe he’d ought to ask you himself, given how frequently you would text him. Perhaps he should find the frequency of your initiated chats bothersome, but it was quite the opposite; he instead felt giddy with every time his phone would vibrate, eager for a chance to duck out to check your message away from prying eyes umemiya.

Like now, he realized from a familiar buzzing. Peeking over to make sure his underclassmen were all distracted with other things, he quickly stepped off behind a corner, pulling out his phone to read your name.

Y/n: class is so boring… I can’t keep my eyes open (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾ what are u doing ???

Hiragi♡: that’s not good. how about you try paying attention.

Y/n: so rude!!’ and u didn’t ansr my ??? !

Hiragi♡: im helping my friend out with gardening

Y/n: GARDENING‽?‽?!(๑･̑◡･̑๑) lol what a surprise!! i didn’t know u had a green thumb!!!!

Hiragi♡: i dont. i just water them whenever hes too busy

Y/n: interstng

Hiragi♡: you should probably put your phone away in class

Y/n: just got busted!!_:(´ཀ`」 ∠): ttyl

What the hell did ttyl stand for? Hiragi chucked audibly, rereading over the conversation a few times, heart feeling full. You were much more of a dork than you first let on, but in an endearing way…

Soon, he began feeling the oncoming presence of his curious juniors approaching. Quickly, he pocketed the devise, and joined back up with them.

⎯⎯⎯✦

A few days after that, your texts became less frequent. Hiragi was becoming increasingly irritable as the pattern spanned for the fifth day. You texted him maybe once a day, if only to say good morning, but hadn’t continued with your usual banters and chatter.

Had he done something wrong? He tried reasoning what it could be. Were you bored of him? It was possible… damnit! What should he do… Let it go? You weren’t inclined to message him after all…

But still, something was eating at him… he didn’t want you to stop. Hiragi looked forward to your daily rants and gripes. Just reading your messages was enough to make him break out in a smile. He was even becoming less careful in hiding your existence— Umemiya almost caught him once…

After toiling on it for too long, he decided the best thing to do would be to own up to it… soon. Maybe he would start with messaging you first.

Hiragi♡？: morning. are you at still in school?

Y/n: yahh..

Hiragi♡？: sounds rough. what time do you get out?

Y/n: two hours(@_@)

Hiragi♡？: do you want to grab a bite to eat after? i have a free meal coupon for ashitaba that i need to use.

Even while in class, you were notorious for answering his messages with lightning speed. Yet, after his latest text, all messages from you halted for an entire hour.

Did he come off too strong? Shit. He wasn’t used to this type of thing, maybe he should take it back before you decided to stop talking to him altogether.

An hour and a half passes, before hes sprung back into life with a new text.

Y/n: I’ve never eaten as ashitaba before. Id like to try it though

Was that a yes? Should he take it as a yes? Unsure, he scanned the message a few times.

“Oooohhh~ does our ‘ragi have a daaate?~” a sudden teasing voice cooed into his ear. “GODDAMNIT!” Hiragi screamed unexpectedly, instinctively throwing a punch into the white haired boy’s face.

Undeterred, Umemiya laughed. “Hohoho~ so it’s true! Hiragi’s got giiiiirlfriend~” Annoyed, Hiragi clicked his tongue. “We aren’t dating!” He snapped back. Umemiya audibly ‘oop’ed, covering his mouth in mild surprise. “An ex..?” “NEITHER!”

…

“So, you weren’t sure about her feelings, so you asked her out to eat to find out?” Umemiya asked, after Hiragi begrudgingly responded to his pestering to tell him everything there was to know about you.

Hiragi shrugged. “I… guess. It just felt like they were putting distance between us and i guess i just… didn’t want that to happen.”

Umemiya nodded along. “So you like them, right?” This question earned a grunt to leave Hiragi’s chest. “Who knows.” He huffed, standing up to leave the conversation.

“Good luuuck! Charm the pants off ‘er, so i can meet her next time!!”

…

Just by your school gate, Hiragi waited, scrolling on his phone.

Hiragi♡？: im outside ur school. spot me by the gate.

Y/n: YOURE HERE????????? (=ↀΩↀ=)

Seeing no reason to reply further, since you’d be seeing him in person before long, he smiled at the cute emoji you sent, and looked around.

Everyone. Was staring at him.

“I-is that a Furin uniform? Scary!!”

“Let’s walk the other way…”

“What’s he here for? Is he looking for a fight?”

“Should i call the police?”

Shit. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge for neighboring schools to know how the image of Furin has changed over the years. To the outside eye, Furin was still a good for nothing delinquent school who fought anyone and everyone. Maybe meeting you at school was a bad idea.

“Hii~ra~giii~” chimed a cheerful voice, breaking out against the harsh whispers around him. A particular group of girls stared the two of you down with wide, shocked eyes. Based on where you were skipping from and their placement, they looked to be your friends. “Ready?”

Hiragi looked a little uneasy, glancing between you and your very suspicious friends, all gathered and whispering with one another. “Uh… yeah.” He mumbled, looking away.

Side by side, the two of you walked to the restaurant he’d mentioned, all while your chipper chatter filled the silence. Talking about anything, asking him questions, leaving room for breathing space as to not overwhelm the conversation too badly.

You had just a weird way of making him feel… at ease. He thought he didn’t much care for carefree individuals who couldn’t mind their business. That’s how it was with Umemiya at least; but your comforting presence did something to ease any aggression lurking inside him.

Coming up on the restaurant, he pulled open the door expectedly for you. You gave a quiet thanks before entering. “Welcome i—“ the older man called in greeting, only to cut himself off when he was met with an unfamiliar face accompanying one of his most regular customers.

Baffled, the older man starred at you in gaping awe. There was no way in hell Hiragi was bringing someone as fine as you on a date here of all places.

“Quit it with the crazy eyes old man, table for two, please.” Hiragi spoke up after closing the door. While the old man was still taken by shock, he did his best to welcome the two of you in with open arms. Quickly, the two of you were seated, and met with hardy conversation with the cook.

“Well you’ve got to forgive me, but this is just about the most unexpected thing! The Bofurin boys come in here all the time, but it’s unusual for them to bring guests like this! Here, try this to start off! I got a few other things frying up right now, it’ll be ready in just’a sec.”

“That’s so kind of you..! I can’t wait to try it! But before that… Bofurin boys? Like, Furin high school, right?” You seemed to be puzzling little things together. You’ve been in town before, of course, but the only thing readily known about Furin was its notorious reputation; and how it had only in recent years began to change.

“You dont know Bofurin? Oh boy! They’re just about the most helpful bunch o’guys around! Can’t tell ya the number of times Toma here has unloaded a full truck for me on delivery day!” The old man hollered with laughter, slapping Hiragi on the back hard.

After putting in your respective orders, Hiragi sighed in embarrassment. “Sorry if he’s over the top. He means well.“

“No way!” You waved off his apology with a happy grin. “I’m even more interested now. Tell me about Bofurin! The locals seem to know you as a hero or something. Only had four random people call out to you asking if you needed anything. What’s that about?”

And so, Hiragi began unwinding the ever telling story of Furin’s history, how it came to be, and who they were now. The story took you by storm; your eyes glued to him as you watched the dangerous looking boy go on about how it’s important to help the people in his community, subconsciously smiling to himself.

Hiragi was compassionate. Perhaps a little harsh spoken and rough looking, but soft in the ways it counted.

“So cool,” you whispered to yourself, thinking only of the boy in front of you in that moment. “Huh? Yeah, i guess we try acting cool for everyone’s sake.” He chuckled back, earning a hot wave of embarrassment to flow over you. You weren’t about to correct him.

The food was great, full of flavor and home cooked goodness. “This is amazing sir!!” You yelled from your table, comfortable in doing so thanks to being the only three people in the eatery. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll go straight to his head.” Hiragi chuckled again. “My head is a respectable size thank you very much. Here, try these too Y/n!”

Finally after having been stuffed full of food, and sent out with more leftovers than you could carry alone, you were elated.

“Thanks for taking me out today, Hiragi! It was awful kind of Mr Ashitaba to tab our meals!”

Hiragi smiled, proud of his community for showing you such hospitality. “This is pretty normal honestly. I’ll make sure to pay him back next time though.”

Sharing amongst yourself a few more lines of conversation, Hiragi’s thoughts began drifting back to your lukewarm messages lately. Should he bring it up, or just leave it be? Would it be overstepping to insinuate any necessity to your conversations?

“Hiiragi? You there?” You asked, waving a hand in front of his face inquisitively. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He cleared his throat.

You looked at him for a moment, as if reading his mind. “You can ask whatever it is you’re thinking. I have an answer.” You smiled knowingly.

Maybe you were sharper than he took you for. Finally, he exhaled. “It’s fine, honestly. I’m not upset or anything. I was… just curious. How do i even say it…” he grumbled, unable to find the words he meant. “Why my messages have been so dry recently?” You asked.

Slowly, he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s not really my place to ask that. We only just met, so it’s not like there’s any obligation or anything.” He cleared the gnawing feeling setting into the conversation, hopeful you remained understanding.

“Honestly… I was worried about bothering you, at first.” You answered. “I didn’t want to annoy you, so I tried holding back just texting you every little thing that crossed my mind… but then, after a day or two, I began feeling like, maybe you weren’t really that interested in me.” You looked away bashful.

“So I asked my school friends what I should do, and they said I shouldn’t message you at all… that if-if you were I-interested in me.. than you would show it… So… ”

Hiragi stopped walking, frozen in place. ‘Interested’, like in a relationship, right? Was he? He probably was, almost positively was. But with the way you were talking… is that something you wanted too?

“Sorry, I guess that kinda sounds like I was testing you… that was wrong of me, wasn’t it?” You looked down.

Hiragi’s heart was beating out of his chest.

“That’s fine,” he spoke calmly, slowly walking to close the distance separating you. He stood close, squeezing the bag straps of leftovers in his opposite hand. “Because of that, I realized how much I really like talking to you. I missed talking to you. And I know now that I want to keep that.” Hiragi slowly raised his free hand, careful in the way he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

“It’s new, but I think I like you.” He admitted boldly, locking eyes with you. Your face immediately ran hot, surely flush with embarrassment. Hiragi smiled at your cute reaction, and rested his palm on your warm cheek.

You wanted to reply, speak what was on your mind as you usually would… but you felt stunned, having Hiragi so close. You could smell the notes of musk from his cologne, feel the leather material of his jacket, and hear the soft exhales he released in nervous tension.

He made no movements, simply shifting his gaze from looking you in the eyes, to your lips, to examine your face, all to catch you off guard again with such intense eye contact.

He never did really get a good look at you the first time you met. Most of your interactions since then have been over the phone. Now that he could really pay attention to you, and put details to the face he kept imagining for the last few weeks.

Hiragi thought you were beautiful.

“Hiragi…” you would only manage a whisper, hearts racing in mutual tandem.

You gulped, and finally smiled, laying a hand on the back of his own. It was rough, his knuckles were dry and cracked, yet the texture felt comforting as you circled your finger tips over them. “I think I really like you too.”

It was so simple, so little words, that meant so much. He broke out in an uncontrollable smile, shark teeth on full display as his eyes squinted shut. Hiragi surely wasn’t looking for anything like this, a relationship. But he would be damned if he gave you up because of some half assed reason like that.

“I want to take you out again sometime. Soon. How does that sound?”

“Tomorrow?!”

“Well… I might have some free time. Have anywhere in mind?”

“Oh yeah! There’s this movie I’ve been really looking forward to,”

As you went on about planning your next date, Hiragi felt elated basking in your radiance; listening to you talk on about your movie interests, and answering when you asked him about his own opinions. All while helplessly reciprocating the hold on each others hand.

Even when you made it home, your energy felt palpable. Yet, you looked sad. “How will I know you made it home safe?”

He chuckled, patting your head. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Can I call you instead?” You asked.

“Sure,” his heart swelled at your borderline clingy nature. With these feelings being so new, he welcomed it. “See you tomorrow.”

Hiragi began to turn, but instinctively, you reached a hand out to grab his shirt. He paused, eyeing you curiously. It was too soon to admit you wanted to kiss him, right? But he seemed to like your straightforwardness, especially when it was tinged in shyness. And with how nervous you were, that’s exactly what you were.

“Can… I call you Toma?” You asked.

He smiled again. “Only if I can return the favor-“

“Absolutely! Please do.” You grinned so wide, grip tightening around his shirt. “Okay then,” you lifted yourself on your tip toes, pulling slightly on the materiel of his shirt, instinctively causing him to bend his knees ever so slightly at your will.

And quickly, you lay a firmly affectionate kiss on the side of his lips, not sure if it was more of his cheek. It was rushed, after all. Embarrassed but satisfied, you pulled back, practically fuming hot air from your ears. “W-well! G-good night Toma! Make it home safe!!” You yelled, quickly rushing for the door and slamming it shut.

Dumbstruck, Hiragi Toma remained on your doorstep, mouth gaping wide open, red as a damn apple. How the hell were you just going to run away from him like that? How was he supposed to react to that? WHAT THE HELL??

With no other way to release this sudden influx of deep emotions, he released a loud closed mouth scream into the palms of his hands. Quick to not make more of a fool of himself, he ran from the scene of the almost murder(his own murder); beet red and heart pounding unbelievably hard.

[saphira-approves]

Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.

[rist-ix]

https://www.tumblr.com/rist-ix/749015401700229120 not you reblogging this when you ship bloom with the man who murdered her family 😭

Bloom's into ppl who slay! Hope this helps :3

[sollilua]

i accidentally fell asleep and i think i had a lucid dream pog??

(rambling in the tags)

[guideaus]

I'm reading the kimi ni todoke manga, and the conflicts are just as frustrating as I remember lol...

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ HOME COOKED MEAL — nanami kento

you bring itadori home for dinner & he gets to see a different side to kento

contents. aka you dig up some teenage photos of nanami, fem!reader, husband nanami, fluff, yuuji being your adopted son, i haven't watched the new ep (& i won't) but there is enough nanami angst so i am here to fix that — 1.7k

when you got ready to leave the school, your jacket on and bag tugged over your shoulder, you passed yuuji itadori in the halls, his expression suspiciously similar to a kicked puppy. 

yuuji perked up a bit as you walked by, offering you a small smile and a wave. and though you considered heading on home for the night, eager to see your husband, you slowed, hesitant to leave the poor kid all alone. 

“everything okay, yuuji?” you asked, frowning as he rested his elbows on his knees, studying a stain on the floor of the school. 

“hm?” the teenager glanced up, eyes bright and wide. his sweet smile was back on his face, so innocent and kind. for someone who had been through so much already, he was more caring than many people that you’d met in your life. “oh, everything’s fine. everyone’s just out on missions, so i feel a little…” he pulled up one shoulder in a shrug. “useless.” 

you knew it must have been hard for him, being a student that wasn’t quite like the others, having to train a little differently, adapt differently. but yuuji took it in stride, and he handled it better than any normal person would. 

with a nod, you secured your bag around your other shoulder, shifting your feet. “it’s just going to be you here tonight, then?” 

he hummed, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. “i think so. some of the others might be around, but they’re resting up.” 

“oh.” though you were certain yuuji had no qualms about spending an evening on his own, the thought of it made you feel like you were leaving a kitten out in the rain. almost pitiful. 

yuuji waved before you could say another word, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “have a good night! i’ll see you tomorrow.” 

the car ride was spent listening to yuuji tell you story after story, the boy opening up to you in a way that he hadn’t quite related to any of the other sorcerers, even gojo.

you smiled to yourself, enjoying his stories as you wondered how to tell kento that you were bringing your student home for dinner. 

there was still a bridge to cross between them, and though you knew they both liked the other more than they let on, kento hadn’t quite connected to the boy like he wanted to.

you hoped that by inviting him over, yuuji would see that kento, truly, wasn’t as intense as he let on. he was sweet, caring, and he did have a sense of humor… even if gojo didn’t really believe that. 

you led yuuji into the house, and stopped him when you heard the sound of kento in the kitchen. his mission had ended earlier than yours, and he’d offered to cook tonight; there would be more than enough food for the three of you. 

“i’ll be right back,” you said, tapping yuuji on the shoulder. “let me go tell kento you’re here.” 

you’d considered letting your husband know before you arrived, but you hadn’t wanted him to protest. kento would try to make a fuss of having a guest over, even if it was only yuuji, and he certainly didn’t care about formalities. 

your heart skipped when you reached kento, his back turned, finishing up the meal that was steaming on the stove. even just standing in the threshold of the kitchen, you were overwhelmed with all of your love for him. 

but it didn’t take much… it never had. you’d always been sickeningly in love with nanami kento. 

your footsteps were soft as you snuck up behind him. “kento,” you said, just above a whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. you kissed the muscles between his shoulder blades, listening to the steady thrum of blood pumping through his body. 

“hi, sweetheart.” he’d heard you approach, and he turned, eyes softening when he glanced at you over his shoulder. “everything okay at the school?”

you nodded, squeezing him tighter. even though you’d seen him just a few hours prior, it felt like a long time—time apart when you were battling curses always dragged as you worried for each other’s safety. “did your mission go okay?” you asked. 

he took your hands from around his waist, bringing them to his lips softly. “everything went fine. dinner’s almost ready so—” then, he noticed your guilty expression, one that you were clearly horrible at hiding. “is something wrong?” 

you smiled innocently. “no! i just… brought a guest.” 

kento’s eyebrows raised, his smiling falling quickly. “well, you could’ve told me before.” he sighed, shaking his head as he turned around to face you. 

“sorry, i thought i’d surprise you.” 

kento’s lips drew into a thinner line. “honey, please tell me gojo satoru is not in my house right now. he’s not welcome here anymore, because the last time he almost destroyed our fucki—” kento glanced up, his words falling away as he glanced over your shoulder. “itadori. hello. i didn’t realize you were there.” 

you turned, releasing kento as yuuji gawked back at you. he’d caught in such a loving embrace with kento. yuuji’s normally stoic teacher was in the middle of swearing, blonde hair tumbling over his forehead. kento had replaced his suit with casual wear, and his contacts had been taken out. in place of them were wire-rimmed glasses. 

“nanamin!” yuuji gasped. “you look so different.” 

“yes, well, i apologize for my apperance.” kento sighed, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “i wasn’t aware we were having guests.” 

“one guest. its just yuuji,” you said, poking him in the middle of the chest as his professional tone returned, so easily taking over. “i don’t think he cares what you’re wearing.” 

“no, i don’t!” yuuji backtracked, eyes wide as he shuffled forward. “no, you look cool, you don’t look so…” 

kento raised his eyebrows, amused, even if yuuji couldn’t detect the humor in his expression. “so what?” 

the boy’s cheeks turned pink, embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “um—”

“you don’t look like you’ve got a stick up your ass.” you said, voicing yuuji’s obvious thoughts as you kissed kento on the cheek with a short laugh. of course, it was only to embarrass him further in front of his student. 

kento feigned a scowl, but didn’t push you away, his gaze firmly planted on yuuji. “that’s because i try to keep my relationships at work strictly professional.” 

“really?” yuuji grinned, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, his posture relaxing as he grew more comfortable in your home. “not very professional to marry someone you work with, is it?” 

you laughed loudly, already caring so deeply for the boy that you’d known for such a short period of time. 

“that was certainly an accident,” kento muttered, but his fingers lingered on your spine, tracing each of the bones. “i’ll have you know we were not working together when we got together.” 

“really?” yuuji’s curiosity spiked. “how long have you been together, then?” 

you thought back to when you were teenagers, when kento had a haircut that he had since regretted, and smiled mischievously. reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through old photos, back from when you were just kids, the images grainy and of much lower quality than the ones from your recent vacation. 

“hey, don’t show him those!” kento protested. he reached for your phone, but you scrambled under his arm, stretching your hand out to give yuuji the device. “itadori, don’t—” kento’s voice held a hint of panic, his cheeks hot with embarrassment as he grabbed you around the waist, trying to stop you from giving yuuji the phone. 

but it was already in yuuji’s hands, and you laughed loudly, knowing that while you looked a little more awkward than you did now, your appearance had changed near as drastically as kento’s. 

yuuji squinted his eyes at a sixteen year old nanami, blond hair long enough to reach his eyes, dressed in an all black ensemble, an earbud in one ear. kento was hardly smiling, but you beamed next to him in the photo, dressed more childishly than you were now, but just as pretty. the image from when you still fumbled around each other, unsure how to admit that you were both in love. 

a roar of laughter left yuuji as kento’s expression fell, and he released you, snapping the phone out of itadori’s palm. “that’s you, nanamin? no way. how did you…” yuuji glanced between you, squinting his eyes. “well, i guess looking at you now it makes sense.” 

“i know,” you agreed, covering your smiles with your palms. “we looked a little silly together back then. i saw the potential in him, but satoru certainly loved to make fun of us, didn’t he, ken?” 

“i have absolutely no desire to relive those days.” 

yuuji laughed. “you were just like fushiguro, i bet!” 

“scarily similar,” you agreed, as kento rolled his eyes beside you, putting your phone in his pocket to keep you from scavenging any older photos to share with the kid. “and he still loves to listen to—”

“don’t finish that sentence or i’ll save this dinner all for myself.” 

yuuji eyes flew up to his hairline, but you just snorted, knowing that kento’s threats were about as scary as a puppy.

“he’s still sensitive about it,” you whispered to yuuji. “gojo and his friends made fun of him all the time.” 

“oh really. just me?” kento retorted under his breath.

“you must have been pretty popular, then!” yuuji grinned. “if you were friends with gojo. he said all the girls in school loved him!”

kento made an irritated sound, stirring the spoon roughly against the pot. “well, satoru is the last person you should listen to. he has an ego bigger than the sun. and my wife is leading you astray. she was not similar to satoru, she was painfully shy, and it took weeks for either of us to talk to each other.” kento took the pan off the stove, peering over his shoulder at you. “and she is very lucky i love her too much to dig up any embarrassing stories of her.” 

“well, stories about me aren’t that interesting anyway.” you laughed, pointedly turning your back to kento. “yuuji, the good news is, i’ve got some more photos in kento in the old photo books. let’s go see them!” 

[emo-batboy]

Battinson and the JL ft. His Eventual Identity Reveal

(If you’re just here for the cutesy bits, skip to Attempt #2. Otherwise, STRAP IN CUZ IT’S A LOT)

Bruce Wayne of Matt Reeves’ The Batman is not the founder type.

He wouldn’t voluntarily join a book club, much less join a league of super powered vigilantes whom he does not know personally.

So in this universe, you probably wouldn’t call him one of the three Founding members.

But he’s still integral to the formation of the Justice League

It starts out with a friendly visit :)

Bruce is patrolling on a random night in Gotham when he notices a weird thing in the sky. It’s floating just far enough behind him that a less vigilant person wouldn’t have noticed, but Bruce is always watching his own back, and he takes it as a threat.

He strays from his usual path and then heads to a warehouse roof before turning to face the threat.

It’s Superman. All smiley and dressed in primary colors. The strongest, most powerful being on Earth just floating over like he wasn’t stalking Batman a second ago. Bruce does not like that.

“What do you want with Gotham?” He asks. “I don’t,” Superman says. “I wanted to talk to The Batman.” So this is some kind of fight? An intervention? A warning? Then Superman frowns. “You…are The Batman, right?”

Bruce only nods as he considers his options, but he can’t really do that when Superman has super speed, super sight, super strength, super breath, super lots-of-things-that-Batman-probably-doesn’t-know-of.

Then Superman surprises him by landing on the roof and giving him this pitch about a superhero group.

Superman and a few other vigilantes have been bouncing around the idea of teaming up together so they can help one another protect their cities. And The Batman was a “perfect candidate.”

“I’m not joining your club.” “It’s not a club. It’s a league.” “What’s your mission statement, then?” “A what?” Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He still doesn’t trust this guy. “Take your league idea back to the drawing board then we can talk.” He does not intend on talking.

But two months later, Superman is back. This time, he brings another super powered vigilante named Wonder Woman.

She smiles, politely approaches him, and says “Superman tells me you want to learn more about our league.” That is not what he said, but he doesn’t bite.

Bruce can’t decide which they remind him of more: college recruiters or cult leaders. But because Wonder Woman genuinely seems to care about seeing this project through, and the roster she has of current like-minded vigilantes is impressive, he lets her talk.

And to give her credit, she definitely thought out the logistics more. It almost makes up for the time they’re wasting.

Okay, fine. They’re still way behind on concept, and it’s pitiful. He actually feels bad.

They obviously care! They just have no idea how to run a business like he does. Is it a bit cynical to think of this league of Justice as a business? Yes, but that’s the only way he can even conceive this happening and working.

Bruce asks about their organization’s leadership structure, and that’s when Wonder Woman falters a bit. “We want to work with each other, not for.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks about their scope of work. “We want to help as many people as we can, but that can be ironed out later.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks “Who’s funding this?” She answers, “We have a few members willing to pitch in, but the majority will have to come from generous citizens.” And that’s when he just stops asking questions. Because what?

If he could cry the grease paint off, he would.

They can’t just think every super-powered vigilante is going to sing Kumbaya and braid each other’s hair. There needs to be checks and balances within the organization to avoid tyranny and corruption. They need a reliable source of donations (that doesn’t immediately out Bruce.) They need a proper chain of command. They need to map out their area of responsibility. They need to design a VERY strict vetting process. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard work!

So he says he’ll think about it again and complains to Alfred about the weird super stalkers.

But for SOME reason, Alfred doesn’t see the problem

Alfred encourages him to join so he can “make some friends.” But how can he trust these people if they can’t even make a half-decent pitch? It’s like a bad episode of Shark Tank.

And “make friends?” They’re all masked

But after a week of gentle nudging (read: very firm lectures), Bruce agrees. ONLY to keep tabs on the rest of the vigilante world and possible threats to Gotham

(And without his help, they’ll probably butt-dial Lex Luthor the nuclear codes or something)

And he is damn well going to figure out who these people really are before he helps them make a Super Organization.

Alfred figures out about half of their secret identities purely as a brain exercise while Bruce is out fighting crime and collecting head injuries like Pokémon cards. They figure out the rest together.

They also develop contingency plans for every single member. Just in case.

And after months of Batman being visited by random vigilantes, whom he has several choice words for about personal space—“This is my city. Go away.”—he accepts. On several conditions.

Not all of them are appreciated.

Attempt #1: “Making Friends”

After several scheduling conflicts, a lot of prep work, and a really good hype session in front of the mirror, Bruce heads on over to the first official meeting.

Batman arrives with a long list of things they need to do before going public. The first thing on the list?

Write A Mission Statement

What the fuck are they actually trying to do? Bruce thinks this is a great starting point.

And you’d think (you’d think) this Justice League thing would be easier to tolerate than the drawn-out exec meetings he has to sit through with boring, old businessmen who keep delaying things so they can hash out every little detail.

To Bruce’s absolute horror, he BECOMES the boring businessman who’s delaying things so they can hash out every little detail. He misses the boring, old businessmen. At least they knew what they were doing.

Every turn, he is argued with.

“Why do we need a mission statement?” “‘Power Structure’ feels authoritarian. Can’t we just share leadership duties?” “Do we really need this much paperwork?”

Bruce has the audacity to say, “We need to develop some sort of protocol that helps us analyze any possible threat.” But no. “Why can’t I just jump in? I have eyes.” “Jumping in without studying an opponent’s behavior could cause more harm than good,” he insists. “So what? I’m going to watch an alien monster go on a rampage through my city instead of fighting it?” “Yes. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”

Bruce already regrets joining.

All he hears is the others gossiping. “Is this guy really telling us how to be heroes?” “He’s got a major stick up his ass.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join.” And if that doesn’t dissuade him, he doesn’t know what will.

“How was the first meeting?” Alfred asks. Bruce scowls. “I’m not making friends.”

Nonetheless, Bruce sticks it out for weeks until they have some semblance of an organization. And, to his shock and amazement, it…kind of works.

The Justice League makes its debut, and Wayne Enterprises generously donates some money “out of spite” after Lex Luthor publicly denounces the league. (Honestly, Bruce would too if he hadn’t personally duct-taped it together himself.)

But the league starts small, just like he told them, they respond to natural disasters and public safety threats first (as per the outreach initiative) and focus on protecting communities in need (as per the mission statement.)

Yes, they still think Batman has a stick up his ass because he’s a stickler for writing incident reports, but no one else reads them so he has the right to be pissed.

He’s almost kind of sort of content with how it’s going. Even his reputation as a vigilante is improving.

That’s when another glaring difference between him and the other members appears.

Despite looking the same age as the rest of the team, Bruce is actually much younger?? Even excluding the aliens, gods, etc.

Most of his teammates are in their late 30’s, early 40’s. Meanwhile, Bruce is at the ripe age of 29 and a half.

He is the youngest by ten years.

Everyone kind of just assumes he’s the same age, though, so they make references to 80’s kids stuff that he only vaguely understands through Alfred and his business partners. He just sits there in silence like a child who snuck over to the adult table and is waiting to get caught.

So on top of the rift he (accidentally) created when they started the organization, it’s even harder to connect through similar interests. Other than punching people together.

And Bruce Wayne has a bad case of imposter syndrome when it comes to their superpowers.

He’s always in the corner brooding, and everyone’s like ummm antisocial much?

But 50% of the time, it’s because he’s thinking “I’ll never amount to the incredible heroic feats everyone else has accomplished. How can I possibly make a difference to the world if I’m already struggling to save Gotham?” Like a little emo freak 🖤

(Meanwhile, you couldn’t pay those mf’s to step foot in Gotham. This Bat guy’s crazy and he’s human apparently?! No way. Nuh uh.)

The OTHER 50% of his “brooding” is Bruce standing to the side with a mixture of concern and judgment because his teammates’ competency in certain areas is…alarmingly low sometimes.

One week, he finds himself thinking, “How do these grown-ass adults not know their way around a digital map? They’re 40, not geriatric.”

Then like a week later, it’s “These fucking war fossils don’t even know Morse code. I gotta do everything around here.”

One of the final straws is when he says, “Did they just break another fucking Keurig? Who does that, Alfred? It’s the fifth one.”

Suffice it to say, he’s not very personable. But is it his fault? Well yeah, a little bit. Like……..65% his fault.

(The remaining 35% is their moaning and groaning whenever Batman calls a meeting.)

Bruce’s irritation is totally justified.

God, he just wants to go home.

Why is he doing this again?

Attempt #2: Actually Making Friends

The first JL member to break through his cold, black exterior is Wonder Woman. She needs help with search and rescue after a sinkhole opens up near an elementary school, but no one’s available until Batman responds to her call.

He’s on the scene in less than an hour and makes quick work in securing the area. Thankfully, she catches him once it’s over. (He always runs off without saying goodbye.)

“Thanks for helping. Everyone else was just so busy. I’m glad you could fly over.” Batman mumbles something that she can’t quite hear. “What was that?” she asks. “I was busy too,” he repeats. She gives him a weird look, and he freezes up for a second as he realizes that probably wasn’t appropriate to say. “I mean…this was more important. There were kids in danger so it didn’t…matter if I was busy.”

Wonder Woman considers how awkward The Batman looks for a moment then smiles. So he really is human. “Well, thank you. The help was very much appreciated.”

Since then, several small acts of kindness and solidarity earn Batman some respect from the rest of the team.

One day, Flash complains about how boring their meetings are so Batman brings a massive bin of fidget toys. After placing them in front of the Flash, he mumbles, “These are for ADHD. They’re useful.” Flash almost cries with relief. He is very touched.

Another day, Green Arrow is severely injured in battle. Without a word, Batman leaves the fight, takes him to a safe location, stops the bleeding, and does it all while repeatedly making sure he’s awake and asking permission to remove certain pieces of clothing.

In another fight, Plastic Man’s mask is thrown off, and Batman sees his face. In a second, Batman tosses a smoke bomb, picks up the mask, and hands it back before anyone else can look. It costs them time and the element of surprise, and Plastic Man knows it, but Batman did it anyway.

A JL member’s stomach grumbles during one too many meetings. Suddenly, their little break room becomes a fully stocked kitchen with shelf-stable meal items and all the basic necessities. There’s a nut-free section, a gluten-free section, everything. The only reason they know it’s him is because anyone else would have admitted to it.

(He renovated the whole fucking thing. In one night. By himself.)

And they all see how gentle he is with children. Countless times, The Batman is spotted prioritizing young civilians at any given moment.

He has lollipops in his belt. And Bluey bandaids too.

It’s the little things that make them feel closer to him :)

And okay maybe his goddamn Mission Statement lecture wasn’t so bad

So they stop moaning and groaning

Okay, now it’s bonding time WOOHOO!!

Attempt #3: Kinda? Friends??

One day, Superman says he isn’t too fond of billionaires (because of Lex, obviously) and goes on a rant about capitalism. Bruce doesn’t dare contribute because 1) he’s the richest man in the world and 2) every other billionaire he’s met is insufferable.

(Including Oliver Queen who Bruce refuses to look at while Green Arrow “defends his city’s billionaire.”)

(And while we’re on the topic of Green Arrow, Bruce cannot forget the disappointing almost-fling two summers ago. He still holds a grudge.)

Green Arrow: “You’re all fashion nightmares. Who wears a cape in the 21st century?” Batman: “At least my facial hair isn’t longer than my dick.” GA: “What was that, Batman?” B: “What?”

Also Bruce is very attracted to Superman.

(He likes older men.)

(Yes, I am referring to Henry Cavill’s Superman.)

(Sue me.)

(But don’t get your hopes up. He does literally nothing about it.)

(Coward.)

One of the JL members complains about how sore they are after a few missions so Bruce cashes in his Monthly Attempt to Socialize and says, “Try yoga. It helps me.” “…Batman, you do yoga?” “Yes. My son got me into it….It’s good for you.” “You have a son?!” He is never socializing again.

They also learn that Batman has the smallest frame on the team. (Like yeah, he’s tall, but he’s also lanky, and everyone else is either an alien or a human dorito.)

One night, they need to sneak through the vents of some building so Bruce offers to do it. Someone says, “It’s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you can fit?” Then he just takes his cape and pauldrons and shoulder pads off and is suddenly like a foot skinnier

“Wait…is this why you’re so good at hiding in the shadows?” Bruce just glares at the Flash for a second before climbing into the vents.

(The answer is yes.)

A betting pool is started over whether or not Batman is part Bat.

In fact, several betting pools begin because no one knows anything about the guy??

Aquaman and Plastic Man go to great lengths to figure out what his hair color is.

They lose their shit once Bruce tells them he’s vegetarian.

Green Lantern: “Every time he opens his mouth, we learn something new. Next, he’s going to tell me he speaks Swahili!” Batman: “I do.” GL: “Oh, come on!”

Superman: “We need someone on the inside for this international operation to work, but that’ll take at least three months undercover.” Batman: “Don’t worry. I have connections.” S: “…In Shanghai?” B: “Yes.”

The Flash adds SHANGHAI?? to his conspiracy board

Bruce needs to stop trying to socialize. It’s better for everyone’s cardiovascular health.

A year or two in, they’re all introduced to Captain Marvel. Bruce is the first and only person to learn his true identity (kid Billy Batson) because Bruce is the only one with a kid. That way, he understands the weird Gen-Alpha humor and references.

Millennia-old deities don’t use the term Flop Era.

And, of course, they play FMK at some point.

(I mean, come on. There are like TWO mature adults on this team, but Martian Manhunter doesn’t know what’s going on until it’s too late, and Wonder Woman is busy at her day job.)

During that particular round, the celebrities are Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Kylie Jenner. Bruce does, in fact, want to kill himself, but he chooses Fuck instead because of this exact conversation:

Green Lantern: Come on, Bats. It’s just a game! Choose already. Batman: No. I’m against killing. GL: Oh, go fuck yourself. This situation is completely hypothetical, and you know it. B: Fine! Fuck Bruce, Marry Kylie, Kill Lex. GL: See? That wasn’t so hard :) Bruce:

He tried

Attempt #4: Ah shit, FRIEND?

The identity reveal comes about three years after he joins. He’s 32, has three kids, he’s been on hundreds of missions with them, the team’s over twice its original size, and there are domestic terrorists overtaking Manhattan.

Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Batman try to extract as many civilians as possible, but now they’re being hunted. After hiding in a warehouse and considering their options, MM finally suggests that they pose as civilians, which immediately creates uproar.

Bruce, however, realizes this is the only way out.

But it’s not dramatic or badass like that one JL episode. No, instead, he thinks about it, swallows the regret, and just—

Takes off his cowl.

And the whole room falls dead fucking quiet.

Then, “Oh fuck.”

(That was Green Lantern.)

Bruce just shrugs and mumbles, “Martian is right. It’s the only way.” And really fucking hopes the grease paint hides his red face because he is not having a good time right now.

He would rather die, actually, but they need to get somewhere safe and Fast.

The others look him up and down then nod slowly. “Uh yeah.” “Okay, sure.” “This is fine.” “We’ll do that.”

The others begin slowly taking off their suits and changing into something more casual. Bruce takes his off, revealing the skin-tight compression suit underneath, and stuffs his armor in the roll-up duffel bag that’s kept in his belt.

He changes into his drifter outfit, wipes his face clean, and suddenly, The Batman’s just a normal guy. (A very pretty normal guy, mind you. His teammates have eyes.)

“We can head to my place,” Bruce says. “It’s closer, and I know the train system pretty well.” And yes, he’s pretty soft-spoken outside of the suit, but now it feels even more obvious.

Meanwhile, the others are like—

Oh. My. God.

Oh my god, he’s fucking shy. Batman is acting shy in front of us. Dear fucking god. Batman is Bruce Wayne. And Bruce is shy so Batman is fucking shy?? Bruce is pretty too. Holy fuck. He is very pretty.

And he’s so young?? Oh my god, he’s a BABY wtf?! He’s like four inches shorter. Four inches tall! They’re all towering over him without his massive boots and armor, and he just hunches over with the big duffel bag like he wants to sink into the floor, and he’s so small.

Wonder Woman wants to put him in her pocket.

Sue her.

They end up taking the train back. Bruce has on the mask and cap that hides his face (poor Superman, he really likes his jawline) and they all follow Bruce as he gets off and on several trains at seemingly random stops. THEN when they’re finally in Gotham, they head into an abandoned-looking subway station that leads them into a…cave?? WTF

And in the middle of the cave is an elderly man with a cane and a three-piece suit just lounging on a recliner. (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—)

He looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, “Ah! You’ve finally made friends, I see?” Bruce rolls his eyes. “This is not a sleepover,” he gripes. “Shame. I was about to grab your footie pajamas for you.”

The man smiles at them. “A pleasure to meet Master Wayne’s work friends in person. Would you like some coffee? Tea? If you’re like him, this is going to be a long night.”

No one dares to question why this man recognizes them in their civvies

They also can’t tell if the footie pajamas line was a joke or not. After tonight, nothing is off the table.

(This is a minefield of information. Barry is having flashbacks to his conspiracy board. No one is going to fucking believe him.)

They all settle into one corner of the cave. Bruce leaves to change and comes back looking like this:

(Goddamnit, Clark is having a meltdown. His hair looks so good wet.)

At one point while they’re plotting, Wonder Woman glances over his shoulder to see Bruce checking some sort of security camera. A boy, maybe nine or ten, is sleeping in bed. “Is that your son?” Bruce clearly doesn’t want to answer, but Alfred gives him a look, and Bruce sighs. “One of them. Yes.”

Later, they have to analyze some explosive samples in the cave, and Barry, forensic scientist extraordinaire, has some choice words about the non-sterile environment.

Barry: This doesn’t look safe. Bruce: My lab is perfectly clean and functional. *bat screeches* Don’t worry about that.

For the rest of the night, they use the evidence they have to track down the organization while the rest of the JL suits up and saves NYC.

After a few hours, they’re safe to return to NYC for damage control. But Alfred refuses to let Bruce go with them. “Your sons are worried. Drive them to school, then you’re coming home and sleeping.”

Bruce clearly wants to argue, but the mention of his kids stops him. He sighs and turns to the others who are already changed. “Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in ten minutes.”

They all nod, knowing full well they will not be doing that. The guy clearly needs rest.

(Also, he is a single father of three and still goes out every night to punch robbers and crime bosses? Is he doing okay?)

Then they head back to NYC with so many questions.

But a lot of it makes sense too, actually. Maybe they just weren’t thinking about the man behind the mask enough to see it.

They learned a lot about their friend that night.

And they have a lot of bets to cash in.

FIN

Okay :D that was a lot! If you enjoyed it, please let me know. This has been simmering in the back of my head for months <3 Have a great day and drink some water :)

Hey bestie @bruciemilf

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[lovebugism]

OMG Stevie helping his shy!girlfriend with a bloody nose while at school just ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

steve promises a good time in exchange for skipping class with him. you end up with a bloody nose. (established relationship, hurt/comfort-ish, 0.8k)

“Missed you,” Steve slurs against your mouth, pressing your body between his towering one and the cold bathroom stall.

You manage a quiet giggle between his sloppy kisses. He swallows the sunshine sound with his plush, pink mouth. “It’s only been three hours,” you tell him as you twist your hands in his wild hair. The chestnut strands feel like silk between your fingers.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” the boy mumbles before pressing his smile to yours. He licks into your mouth and sighs at the taste, almost like he’s never felt you before — like he hadn’t kissed the breath from your lungs all lunch period.

He’s insatiable, your beautiful brown-eyed boy, and he kisses you with haste accordingly. He’s always seemed to touch you that way. With a hunger, like every time he’s held you is the very first time. And with an eagerness, like any time could be his last.

Steve gets all boyishly aggressive beneath the weight of his yearning. And you, warm and fondly held by his swollen mouth and wide palms, can’t help when your head gets all swimmy about it. It’s a horrid combination, really. 

‘Cause when he ducks down to kiss your neck, you rise to the tips of your toes to swallow him whole. Your faces bonk rather gracelessly together accordingly — like a couple of poorly aligned planets.

“Oh, shit!” Steve exclaims as he pulls back from you, rubbing at his aching forehead.

“I’m okay!” you blurt — not because you entirely mean it, but because you feel like it’s something you should say after being so carelessly clumsy.

The boy’s face twists with a puppylike pout. His jutted lips are rosier and very ardently kissed. His honey eyes flit rapidly across your features, glazed over with leftover longing. You look about as far-gone as he does now.

“Are you sure?” Steve presses. Because you’ve got a tendency to downplay the severity of certain situations for the sake of being a burden. It’s a whole thing. You’re still working on it. “I know that had to hurt, babe.”

“I’m fine,” you insist despite the distant throbbing between your eyes. Shaking your head with so much vigor doesn’t help. “I promise. I’m good… I think.”

Steve peers down at you, visibly unconvinced. His narrowed eyes widen when blood drips slowly from your right nostril, trickling like a river of crimson down your cupid’s bow.

Your brows furrow at his suddenly concerned gaze. “What?” you wonder as you reach for your mouth. His eyes are very obviously pointed there, and you’ve got a weird itch now, anyway.

“Nothing! It’s okay, just— Maybe don’t touch it,” Steve blurts before ducking at your side. He unravels cheap toilet paper from the dispenser beside your thigh and wraps it around his hand. He rises again to wipe the nosebleed, only to find that you’ve smeared it with your fingers.

Your eyes go glassy at the cherry-colored blood staining your fingertips. “Gosh…” you murmur as your heart swells into your throat. You blink slow, head all swimmy — and not in the good way.

“It’s okay. You’re alright, babe,” Steve insists as he smooths a softly calloused palm beneath your jaw. He guides your chin softly upward and presses the tissue to your nose. “Here. Just tilt your head back. Hold this ’til the bleeding stops, yeah?”

At a loss for what else to do, you listen to him. You press the crown of your head against the stall wall and wrap a trembling hand around the boy’s wrist. You can feel his racing pulse beneath your thumb.

“This is the last time I’m skipping study hall with you,” you announce with an icy glare that’s hardly intimidating. “Ever.”

Steve’s lip quirks into a sheepish half-smile. “I figured,” he replies.

When the bleeding doesn’t stop, he takes you to the nurse’s. 

He sits with you in the concrete room, beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights and the overwhelming scent of bleach. His hands tremble with the longing to touch you while the nurse checks you over. She shoves a cotton ball up your nostril and a bulky icepack in your hand.

Steve would help you hold it if he didn’t think it would be the worst idea ever. He’s already gotten you into this mess — he figures it’s best to keep himself out of the rest of it for now. He idles in the corner, instead, and plays the innocent bystander.

“How did this happen, exactly?” the woman asks as she scribbles out a report. The pen against the clipboard sounds much louder in the quiet.

You glance over her shoulder at Steve for an answer. He shrugs with panicked eyes. The nurse peers at you over the frames of her cat-eyed glasses with a most impatient glare.

“I, uh— I just wasn’t paying attention,” you stammer less than convincingly. “Slammed right into a wall. Guess I should watch where I’m going, right?”

You force out a giggle while the older woman flashes Steve a deadpanned glare. “And I don’t imagine that you were the source of this distraction. Were you, Mr. Harrington?” she montones.

“Me?” he scoffs with a lopsided smile. “Of course not.”