#because it seems like some people needed a friendly reminder

[dwtdog]

Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes

DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33

George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.

He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.

After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.

Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.

He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.

George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.

The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.

The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.

“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.

“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”

He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”

“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”

George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms. 

“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”

“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”

He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”

George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….

“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”

With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”

“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”

Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high. 

“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.

“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”

“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”

George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.

“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”

George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”

As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.

“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”

“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”

“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”

“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated. 

He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.

“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”

George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.

“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”

“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”

George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-

“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after. 

Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”

George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”

“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”

“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”

They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.

“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.

“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”

George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”

“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”

“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”

“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”

“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”

“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”

[xray-vex]

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP, s2 edition

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

THE SHOW IS THE RELATIONSHIP

[The Show is the Relationship, Part 1]

[cruelsister-moved2]

had such a good day today feeling very healed but then on my way to the station there were these 7th day adventists preaching and handing out books and leaflets so obviously i took them because im curious but its crazy it was actually just like that tone deaf comment about antisemitism for catholics ... the leaflet was just very like theres secret catholics running every world government and doing satanic rituals and theres a shadow government based in the vatican city that secretly pulls all the strings of the world and they had big posters with like the pope superimposed on a background of hellfire and illuminati symbols and so on well you get the picture. but they actually didnt mention jewish or lgbt people in their booklet at all so i was like maybe this is awesome like the catholics can take the heat for once..... 

[nixie-writes]

Alastor as a father to an adopted sinner child

After episode 5, I've been thinking about how Alastor acted with Charlie to piss off Lucifer and I couldn't help but think about him as an actual father, so here you go.

-in life he never considered having kids. He didn’t hate kids, he just wasn’t fond of them. 

-however, upon arriving in Hell he met many children, and realized they were just lost souls who were damned unjustly. He had a new conviction to adopt a child. 

-you were a sinner child, you were damned because you killed your abusive father. You stole his heart pills, dissolved them in his alcohol and let him drink it. When Alastor heard that story he knew you were the one. 

-when he brought you to the hotel you were scared of all the demons there. They all looked dangerous, and you feared new people. You trusted Alastor because he adopted you, so you clung to him and never left his side. He let you sleep in his bed with him. 

-he took his time introducing you to the staff and guests at the hotel. He started with Charlie, who was so excited to meet you. She loved kids, so she gave you a piece of chocolate and told you that she was happy to meet you. You liked how friendly she was, despite being Lucifer’s daughter. You were cautious of her for that reason, but she seemed nice. 

-the others, you kept a distance from. You were okay with Charlie and Vaggie was acceptable because she promised to protect you, but you were on the fence about everyone else. 

-as a father Alastor was strict, he gave tough love. He wasn’t scared to punish you, but he was lenient on some things. He would let you stay up late some nights listening to the radio or playing with Niffty, and he convinced Husk to let you sit at the bar and sip apple juice and talk to him about your childish life. Husk wouldn’t admit it but he loved to talk to you, it was a breath of fresh air. 

-Alastor never wanted you around Mimzy. She knew he adopted a child but he forbade her from interacting with you because she was a bad influence. You weren’t interested in meeting her. Alastor told you she only came to him when she needed her messes cleaned up, and you didn’t want to be around someone who could bring danger to you or your adoptive father.

-if you upset him by saying something Husk says about him he would one, tell you that saying bad things about people could get you killed and have you scared shitless and two, remind Husk of who owns his soul and who can erase him.

[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

[rogueddie]

Hair Care T | 1,749 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is what makes you brave

Steve learnt early on that if he makes his hair all soft, fluffy and big, then girls would play with his hair. He's always loved having people touching his hair.

But after the Demogorgon, after he gets his act together? Suddenly, no one wants to touch his hair. No one comments on it, or even looks at it like they're so much as thinking about it.

And it is driving Steve insane.

"I can't just ask for it!" He complains. "That's weird and- and what if they take it the wrong way? What if I sound too weird or desperate?"

"I'm the wrong person for the weird complaint," Eddie points out. "And I still don't get the problem. What about Robin?"

Robin is convinced that all his little lines, trying to encourage attention towards his hair as subtly as he can, are all pick-up lines.

To be fair to her, she has only ever seen him using said lines when he's flirting. But they're supposed to be little hints, a nudge and a wink. Friendly- playful even.

But, because of that, he has a nasty feeling that she would take any hint or request about his hair as romantic. And the last thing Steve wants to do is make Robin uncomfortable.

"Ok, yeah, I see the problem there," Eddie hums, considering. "What about the kids? El and Max. They adore you and love playing with each others hair."

El had asked to play with his hair once.

She'd heard, somehow, that his hair is 'famous' in Hawkins and had wanted to see why. She encouraged Max to join her, even though she mostly ended up petting him like a dog.

Max had seemed to enjoy it more than El, but not by much, and the snickers from the other kids had been enough for him to refuse to let them "go again".

He's the babysitter, he needs at least some dignity.

"But did you like it?" Eddie presses.

"Well, yeah," Steve mumbles, snuffing his slipper on the carpet. "It was nice or whatever. Not worth the jabs though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Didn't feel worth it."

"Hmm..." Eddie pauses again, frowning as he looks him over. "Well... what was it specifically about what they did that was so nice? Has anyone else done that for you?"

Tommy used to play with his hair constantly. He was a quick learner and, with how much Carol visibly and vocally enjoyed watching them, there wasn't any shame.

They both seemed to enjoy themselves more whenever they could convince Steve to sit on the floor, so Tommy could scratch at his head more effectively.

"Which..." Steve pauses, frowning. "In retrospect was probably some weird power play thing. Like, I was the king at school but a dog at home."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

But they knew exactly what he liked and they were good at it.

Tommy knew that he loves the back of his ears scratched, likes the small strands at his neck tugged. He knew that Steve loved the feeling of fingers brushing his fringe back, especially when he'd get rough and push his head back a little with the motion.

They knew what he needed.

"Well... I could do that," Eddie suggests. "I mean... if you want. It's not like it would be a hardship."

"Really? You wouldn't be uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. As long as you're ok with it, it's all good."

"That- yeah. Yeah, I'm on with that."

That's how it starts.

Steve had sat on the floor, in front of the sofa where Eddie was sat. It reminded him of Tommy for a moment, but Eddie quickly brought him back to the moment with a hand on his shoulder.

"This alright for you?" He asked, squeezing gently when Steve nodded. "Alright. Just let me know if it's bad, too much or you want to stop."

"Okay."

He had thought that would be it, though. Moments when they hung out in private, a thing for them that no one else was allowed in on.

But Eddie starts playing with his hair. All the time.

If he can find an excuse, he abuses it. Even in Family Video, busy with people and customers lining up in front of Robin, right next to them. Eddie just... leans forward, reaches out and pushes his hair back.

He does it so casual, so out in the open, that- somehow- Robin is the only one who gives them a strange look.

On movie nights, he's started putting a pillow down on the floor between his feet. When Steve comes in with popcorn, Eddie gives it a pointed look and raises an eyebrow at him.

It's so much, so often. Steve loves it, has never been so happy for so long. It leaves him feeling high sometimes.

All good things, for him, come to an end though. And his comes in the form of Robin Buckley.

"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it!" She clarifies, right off the bat. "If it's just a friendship thing, that's amazing. I love how happy you are, really, and I don't want that to go away, and I know-"

"Robs," Steve interrupts. "Slow down. I don't know what you're trying to say."

She stood, staring at him for a moment, seeming to vibrate with her need to speak, before finally blurting out-

"Are you and Eddie dating?"

"Wh- what? No, that's... no. Why do you, uhm, think that?"

"Steve," she whines. "I know about your hair lines, remember? One of them must have worked with how addicted he's got to yours."

"Oh, that... no, that's not what's happened. Those aren't lines, I just... I really like people playing with my hair."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, that still sounds suspicious. He plays with your hair all the time because he knows how much you like it?"

"No one else was going to."

"Oh my god," she rolls her eyes, stepping closer so she lightly tug at his hair. "I would have been doing this all the time if I knew it was ok!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

"No apologies, just tell me when you started crushing on Munson."

"How-?"

"I know you, dingus. Apparently not as well as I had hoped I did, but I do. And you're gone on him. When. Did it start?"

The first time Steve realized that he was feeling more than 'friendship feelings' for Eddie was when he was eating at his new trailer.

Wayne had come home early and was surprised to see that Eddie had a guest over.

But Eddie was too busy jumping up, excited to introduce them, to notice.

"Wayne! This is Steve, I've told you about Steve, he's great," Eddie said. "Steve, this is my uncle, Wayne. He's amazing, don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Steve had quickly stood extending an arm, and introduced him properly. He made sure to add a quick 'sir' at the end.

Wayne had quickly dismissed the title, turning to Eddie with a fond look, and said, "what was it you called him? Pr-"

"Shut up," Eddie was fast to interrupt, hands waving around.

And Steve realized that he was feeling hope. He was filled with hope that Eddie had said what his uncle seemed to about to say.

He realized that he wanted Eddie to think of him as pretty. He wanted Eddie to find him so pretty that he told his uncle.

It was a warm feeling, fluttering through his stomach- a feeling that he is all too familiar with.

"I'm gagging," Robin says, monotone. "But that does help."

"Help? How?"

"Uh, because he's obviously into you too!"

"Robs, I don't know..."

"Come on, it'll be easy. He already likes you, so you don't have to try so hard. Just a little thing that lets him know you like him. One of your moves-"

"No, Robs... I'm sure that he likes me too, at least a little, that's not the problem."

"What is them?"

"I... I've never, like... been with a guy. What if I do it wrong?"

"Steve," Robin grabs both of his shoulders. "He likes you. All you have to be is yourself."

"I don't know if I c-"

"You can, and you will. We'll think of a plan that cannot fail, you'll put on your brave pants, and we'll kick this problems ass."

"My brave pants? It's brave face."

"No, I mean those pants that you're always saying make your ass look good. Those are your brave pants."

"... Ok, yeah, they are."

It doesn't take them long to settle in a plan. It's simple, easy. It shouldn't give Steve enough time to doubt himself.

Eddie arrives on time, knocking on the door at the exact time it turns four p.m.

"Hi!" Steve greets, wincing at how overenthusiastic he is. "Come in."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just... slow day. Too much energy. Come on, I made too much food earlier if you want some."

"You know I'll never turn down free food, Stevie."

Over dinner, Steve starts to finally relax. Eddie is, as always, easy to talk too.

When they step into the living room, Steve snatches the pillow off Eddie before he can put it on the floor and places it in Eddies lap instead.

"Oh, uh," Eddie stutters, eyebrows high, staring down at Steve who did not hesitate to rest his head on the pillow in his lap. "You- yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You alright with this?"

"Yes- yeah, this- of course."

"Great!"

Steve stretches to the coffee table, handing Eddie the remote.

He doesn't pay attention to whatever Eddie puts on though. He can't stop thinking about how he's laying, how Eddie's hand feels so much more gentle in his hair.

Eventually, he turns so he's on his back. He catches Eddie's hand before he can pull away, waiting until Eddie looks him in the eye before pulling his hand close enough to kiss his palm.

But, instead of surprise, Eddie sighs. His shoulders drop, smiling wide- relieved.

"You're so pretty," Steve says, pushing through the confusion he feels at Eddies reaction. "And I, uh... I really like you, Ed."

"Yeah?" Eddies eyes scrunch with how wide his smile is, shifting his hand out of Steves hold so he can brush the back of his knuckles along his cheek. "Little ol' me?"

"Yeah. I'm- I mean, you're funny and you care... you're just... it's too soon to say love, I know, but-"

"I love you too."

[crishayle]

Astrology notes

Reminder. When reading, take into account your entire natal chart.Thank you for the feedback⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

People with the Moon conjunction/trine/sextile Jupiter are very friendly. I will not say that they immediately seem cute at first impression (you need to watch the ascendant for this), but in further communication with them you feel their charisma and friendliness.It's very cozy with them!

I often discuss with people their natal chart and their complaints, and I noticed that people with Mercury square/opposition ascendant have certain features in terms of mind. For example, memory problems, or good long-term, but poor short-term memory, it is difficult for them to concentrate on several things at once, or on the contrary, they lack perseverance, it is difficult for them to assimilate new information. Their mind is not weak, just different from the usual one.Or I observe problems with speech (stuttering, burr, lisp, unusual accent)

Selena in the 3rd house, Mercury conjunct Venus/Mars, Venus in the 3rd house have very pleasant voices. Their voices are velvety, most often modal (chest)

Have you noticed how during the scorpio season all astrologers wrote posts on the topic of sex? It's all scorpio's vibe𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

I read on one forum that the combination of the ascendant in Leo and the Sun/Venus in the 1st house gives a bright and sexy appearance. I'm not sure about sexuality, but their appearance is really very beautiful and unusual!

People with Lilith in the 4th house are more likely than others to think about moving to another city/country, and just to another place. In a change of environment, they can feel out of their comfort zone and self-development. If Lilith is amazed, then the person will want to move because of personal beliefs (most often because of politics)

It seems to me that the most important and cardinal thoughts come to our minds when transit houses return to natal houses (for example, the Sun in the 3rd house in the natal chart and the transit Sun in the 3rd house).It's like a personal new year in my head.You sum up your results, plan, create different options for the future. Ideas may come up that you haven't thought about before. Physically, nothing new is happening, the usual routine (home and study/work), but in a person's head there are huge independent (!!!) changes

Guys, whose strongest planet in the natal chart is the Moon, do you also f*cking feel every full moon and new moon?

People with the Moon in the 1st house, the ascendant in Cancer, the Moon in Cancer/4th house, the Sun in the 4th house need personal space. They can be very sociable and energetic, but they need at least 15 minutes of silence to distract themselves and be alone

Retrograde natal planets can be compared to a splinter that is stuck deep under the skin and you can't see where it can be pulled out. It's difficult, but it's possible. Retrograde planets can also be made less problematic, but it will take a lot of effort

Some underestimate the influence of stellium, believing that the ascendant, the sun and the moon are enough to understand a person.As practice shows, most often this is not enough, especially when the stellium and the Big Three are different in temperament.Please consider your stelliums

Mars in Sagittarius can look athletic even if they don't do sports

If you see a person who reads the news about maniacs, murders and crime, then there is a 90% chance that he has placements in Scorpio/8th house

Most content makers have strong placements in Leo/Aquarius/5th house/11th house. I'm talking about people who have been blogging for a long time and professionally, as well as whose work is related to the media sphere

Mercury in Virgo/6th house has a lively mind in conversation. They argue well, they discuss well, they can turn your words against you.They may respond sharply, but in fact

Often we may be attracted to the creativity or personality of some famous person because of similar placements in the natal chart

On the astro-seek website, you can guess the Sun/Moon/ascendant of a person from a photo. According to statistics, people with Scorpio/Aquarius in the Big Three have the least guessed photos. Still, I agree that these are the most mysterious signs of the zodiac

According to Ceres in the natal chart, you can learn about the upbringing of a person (since this asteroid shows the connection between parents and a child).For example, Ceres in the 5th house indicates a creative child. He could come up with a lot of games, drew a lot, and behaved a little differently than other children. He could love to read or listen to fairy tales.Good imagination, but perceives visual information best

It seems to me that people with the Moon square/opposition Saturn/Uranus/Neptune/Pluto are more likely than other people to wind themselves up. These people perceive emotions, events, people deeply. They have high emotional intelligence, but it is often difficult for them to turn off their head and calm down from thoughts

[tripleyeeet]

WEAVED TOGETHER (SAY IT'S FOREVER)

SUMMARY: After faking your death years ago, Astarion finally finds you in Waterdeep.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,128

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, fingering, orgasm denial, sex used as a manipulation tactic, biting, blood sucking, descriptions of past/current abuse, Ascendent Astarion (feel like I need to tag this just in case), a whole lot of angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic gave me so much grief. I really hope my labour translates into something good because man, if it doesn't I might fucking cry. :') Also, fic title is inspired this bop!

MASTERLIST

-

You’ve never been particularly keen on parties. Favouring quite possibly anything above the stuffy insides of a ballroom packed with people, it’s a miracle that you haven’t already left Gale’s side for some air. To take even the shortest of moments to allow yourself some alone time. 

Feeling the fabric of your dress uncomfortably stick to your skin, you can’t help but squirm at the thought of having to stay any later. Considering you’ve been here for a good few hours already, you’re tempted to ask Gale if maybe now’s the time to part ways.

At this point you’ve been well and truly shown off to the entire party, gawked at by countless of his old academic friends, so surely he wouldn’t mind if you up and left now, right?

Before you can think to ask, he’s already wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly kiss to the cheek. “I really do appreciate you coming,” he tells you, drunkenly swaying as he speaks, letting out a chuckle as you hold him steady. “I would’ve been terribly embarrassed to show up at such a renowned event without a date.” 

“So you’ve mentioned.” You shoot him a smug look, watching him roll his eyes and take a sip of wine, debating whether or not to take the glass from him, knowing just how much he’s had.

“I mean it, you’ve been nothing short of wonderful to me in my time of need, so thank you.”

Despite the urge to play down his thanks, to remind him of all the things he’s done for you as of late, you merely take it, offering him a quick you’re welcome in return, knowing just how persistent a drunken Gale can get. How the man hardly pauses to breathe in the midst of a conversation —his endless string of words seeming to lose you almost instantly every time. 

Even now, as he begins to go on some long-winded speech about the importance of your friendship, you’re already miles away, longing to drift towards the balcony that rests just across the room, taunting you with its open air and lack of people. 

“Anyways, would you care for another drink? I’m in need of one myself thanks to the hole at the bottom of my glass.” Pulling you back in, Gale lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back while you merely shake your head.

“I’m uh, no I’m fine Gale. You go ahead and get that drink. I think I’m going to head outside and get some air.” 

All he does is give you a tight hug before he leaves, stumbling across the marble floors, bumping into various bodies that suddenly get caught up in his inebriated storm, allowing you a moment to yourself. 

You let out a sigh of relief then, turning your attention to your desired spot, gathering up the skirt of your dress so that you can race to its opening, breathing in the scent of fresh air once you step past the threshold.  

Somehow once you’re out there, you notice that there isn’t a body in sight. No couples having late-night trysts in the corner or other lonesome individuals stood painfully reflecting on their night. It’s just you by yourself, walking slowly towards the railing, gripping it tight as you allow your mind to settle. To shut down for just a moment after being on for so long.

It feels like forever since you’ve felt this calm. After years of endless journeys —of fighting and running and, as of late, hiding away— you feel that old sense of ease wash over you. Like the waves of Waterdeep’s coast, they gently lap at your feet, rising and falling with each breath you take, watching from afar the bustling city streets below as they begin to die out for the night. 

It reminds you of home, a bit. Of the nights you used to spend wandering around Baldur’s Gate, your belly full of the cheapest ale and your mind empty of anything other than the prospect of fun. Back then, you were always full of reckless abandon, constantly getting into trouble only to talk your way out of it not long after and unfortunately, you can’t help but begin to miss it all. The life before the war. Before you were taken in the dead of night and forced into a life you never wanted to live. 

Things were simpler then. You didn’t have the scars of clashing swords or the kind of memories that often shook you awake each night, covered in sweat and gasping for air. Devoid of anything truly awful, all you had was the blissful ignorance of a fool. One hellbent on solitude in a world of constant interaction. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the people you’d met along the way you’d be jealous of that life. The one where you were seemingly untouchable, your mind vacant of regret and resentment and—

Before you can continue, you shake those same feelings from your mind, forcing out a heavy breath as you try to maintain the calm. The ocean of waves of Waterdeep pooling between your toes, knowing it’s the only way you’ll move on. If you focus on the positives —if you refuse to look back even for the slightest of moments you’ll forget all about those other lives you lived. All the chapters you spent haphazardly scribbling down, trying desperately to get to this moment.

It seems impossible sometimes, remembering how much shit you had to go through to get here. Not only did you have to survive countless wars involving mind flayers and cultists, but you also had to die to get it. And not die in the metaphorical sense, either. No, you had to literally die —to off yourself in front of countless people and hope to god the Necromancer that you hired actually turned up. 

It was a whole process. One that you refuse to think about as you let out a scoff and raise your hands to your head, pressing two fingers to either temple to relieve yourself of the sudden ache that hits. 

“Remember what we said about thinking,” you remind yourself then, allowing your eyes to slowly roll back, savouring the alleviated pressure your fingers provide.

Repeating the mantra in your head, you rub your skin and hum aloud, standing for a few more minutes as you listen to the sounds of the bustling party behind you. How the music swells into a crescendo of excitement, various strings and woodwinds all playing in time with one another. 

Alongside it, a calming voice echoes over, rising and falling with each passing note that carries through the air to your ears. At first, it’s soft and silky —comforting in a way that wills you to drop your hands and take a few steps towards the entrance of the building, watching as a beautifully freckled bard strums her lute and smiles at the crowd. 

Suddenly intrigued, you move to your previous spot inside the ballroom, spotting a rather awestruck Gale who’s holding onto two glasses of red, staring with widened eyes.

“She’s rather pretty.” You grin wickedly and bump your hip against his, hearing him grunt as he blinks and glances at you. 

“I’m sorry?”

Taking the glass nearest to you, you then use that same hand to motion to the bard that’s begun to erupt in an upbeat chorus, her voice lowering to a wild growl as she kicks up her feet, dancing around the stage with some of the other musicians. “The bard. Fancy a taste?”

He narrows his eyes at you, a grin of his own peeling across his face as he shakes his head. “I think a conversation would suffice. Least, for starters.” 

Biting your bottom lip, you jokingly wrap your arm around his shoulders and shake, pressing your face against his cheek to make obnoxious kissing sounds that leave him laughing and shoving you off. 

“Unhand me, you harlot!” 

“What? Afraid she’ll see?” 

He opens his mouth, almost offended, staring for a moment as you wiggle your brows and take a sip of the wine. “Excuse you, that was my drink.”

“You got yourself two drinks?” You raise your brow.

He scrunches up his face in response before subtly craning his neck towards the other side of the ballroom. “No, it’s for Astarion.” 

Your stomach sinks at the mention of his name, filling you with the kind of dread you’ve only felt one other time in your life. All at once it sends you into a panic. Your chest aching and your throat tightening. Even your hands, once carefully wrapped around the vessel of liquid seemingly shifts to a close, resulting in shattering glass that pokes and prods your skin before it falls to the ground. 

Crying out in surprise, Gale’s previously mischievous expression quickly fades. Replacing it, an air of worry envelopes the both of you. As he reaches for your arm, allowing his hand to carefully slide down to view your newfound injury, you try to swallow and scan the room, picking apart face after face to no avail, wondering if somehow he’s already found you. If perhaps, instead of where Gale assumes he is he’s instead directly behind you, lingering like the creature of the night he is, waiting to strike. 

A shaky breath escapes you then. Peeling away from Gale’s cautious grasp, you take a minute to blink and look him up and down, noticing the growing fear in his eyes. How his lack of understanding only spurs your head to whip behind you, to find more curious eyes staring back. 

“Are you alright?” 

The question comes from a voice you’ve never heard before. So, instead of entertaining it you merely turn back to Gale, suddenly catching an unfortunate glimpse of pale skin and ivory hair quite a ways back. 

Immediately, it strengthens the dread inside, ripping the breath from your lungs as you press a nervous hand to your neck, realizing that somehow it’s already been years since you’ve last seen him. Months and days and hours all collectively bundled together, only to be completely ruined by this one moment.

As you stand there, staring —watching as he does nothing but the same, you feel your mind yelling for you to run. To discard whatever reservations you may have left to push violently through the crowd because, at this rate, it’s the only option left. Having already tried hiding beneath the freezing hands of Death himself, it’s obvious you’ve exhausted all other options. No matter what you do —what you say— nothing will be deemed feasible enough to grant you the escape you so foolishly desire. You’re too vulnerable now, standing there in your ballroom gown, bleeding from your injured hand, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack as he takes that first stride forward. 

Matching his step, you feel your body waver backwards, everything suddenly swirling across your vision as Gale reaches out to grab your arm, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m aware the breakup wasn’t amicable but maybe if you two just talk?” he suggests, his voice bouncing off your ears like a war drum, reminding you that Sufferance is coming. And that he’s dressed in his fanciest suit to mark the occasion, practically gliding through the room with knitted brows and frowning lips, pushing aside everybody who gets in his way. 

“Gale, we —I need to go.”

Suddenly your palm, still filled with glass pushes against his robes, staining the fabric as your blood begins to drip, reminding you of his hunger —of the way he used to feed. How he took and took, ignoring your starvation for something other than submission. Refusing to acknowledge the withering of your soul each day you spent wrapped around his pretty little fingers.  

As he shoves a woman to the ground, you can feel the emptiness within your stomach start to grow at the memory. The shuddering of your limbs driving Gale to look behind him, noticing the wild look in Astarion’s eyes as the crowd begins to part in fear, watching as he bares his teeth. 

It’s a look that makes you instantly flinch. Closing your eyes, your shoulders rise to touch your ears in anticipation. Waiting for the moment to strike, you all but freeze in place, holding your breath as the steps of his boots draw near, reverberating through the air until they suddenly stop.

In fact, everything stops. The sound of him —the sound of the party. All of it falls onto deaf ears, creating a new fear that has you so terrified you merely stand in place until you eventually hear the clapping sound of a hand on someone’s back, followed by the swirling of your head again, forcing your eyes to jolt open. 

“Oh, hello darling, didn’t see you there.”

Once again trying to breathe, you glance between the two men in confusion, watching as they share a lengthy embrace before Astarion’s pushing himself onto you. Gentler than expected, his arms slowly wrap around your shoulders as he does it, pulling you to his chest in a way that feels both frightening and familiar. A mix of home and hell encased around your nervous frame as he lowers his head to yours. 

In response, you reluctantly raise your hands and place them on his back, applying a bit of pressure at the centre as you mutter out a muddled hi, looking to see that the commotion he so violently caused before seems to have evaporated into thin air. 

“You’re awfully far from home, aren’t you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, ghosting against the shell of your ear as you force out a shaky breath.

“So are you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

You hum in response. Using the short moment of silence that’s granted to stare. To watch the way he looks you up and down, the edges of his lips pulling into a smirk of amusement. 

It’s obvious then that he’s thinking of playing tricks. Of taunting and teasing —using all the usual charming tactics before he decides it’s worth it to raise a little hell. 

Because of this, you merely swallow hard and spare Gale a glance, watching him magic away the bloodstain on his robes before looking back towards the stage. 

“How did you find me?”

Astarion reaches for your chin. Taking hold of it with his thumb and forefinger, he then waits patiently for you to share his gaze, looking your face up and down until he can finally see the fear in your eyes. “Does it really matter?” 

It does, but you know he won’t tell you so you move on to another question. “Why are you here then?” 

Immediately he scoffs, the smirk on his face falling for a split second. “Do you really have to ask?” he says, letting his thumb run across the length of your bottom lip. “Obviously, I’ve come to enjoy a spot of red with old friends.”

“Hm.”

“Among other things, of course.” 

“Like?” 

“Reclaiming my dead consort, for one.”

“And two?” 

He shrugs his shoulders as he taps your chin. “Not sure. Depends on how the night goes.” 

You’re not sure what to say then. Growing increasingly lost to the feeling of his hands and voice —remembering all the moments shared when it was just him and you and the power imbalance of ascension hadn’t yet existed— all you can do is pull him in a bit tighter. 

Knowing that Gale is probably growing more curious by the second, you suddenly feel a sense of protection. An urge to get rid of him so that he’s no longer at risk. 

Well aware of the power Astarion now holds within his grasp, you know it’s hardly worth it to try and get him involved anyway, especially considering how much alcohol he’s consumed. The poor man couldn’t be helpful even if he tried, so instead of asking you merely hold on. Tightening your grip as the other parts of you desperately try to rationalize just how much you’ve missed this. How even after years spent fleeing his hold —years of constant moving and hiding and watching your back for signs of his presence— his touch is still the only thing that makes you feel safe.

Which is a fact that makes you sick to your stomach, discovering that, regardless of being able to name a million reasons why you should be fleeing rather than falling, suddenly you’re able to name just as much for why you’d stay. Why you’d more than willingly follow his footsteps if he asked. 

And not because you fear him, no. Despite having just been found out —despite that growing uncertainty of how you’ll inevitably be taken back— it’s as if your mind resets on impact. As he holds you close, speaking in obvious threats to your safety if you don’t listen, you can feel the defiance in you quickly dwindle. Evaporating into thin air as he leans away to give Gale an overly friendly smack to the shoulder. 

“Gale, darling, you wouldn’t mind giving us a bit of privacy would you? Seems we have much to discuss.” 

The hold he has on you tightens as he speaks, reminding you that such a conversation is anything but optional as Gale almost immediately buggers off, drunkenly mumbling something about drinks and fun before Astarion’s whisking you away. 

Leading you through a crowd of bodies, you quickly find your hand gripping his shoulder absentmindedly. All splayed out, your fingers nervously caress the fabric of his doublet, feeling the texture shift beneath your skin, reminding you that he’s here. That’s he’s present and real and not just some illusion conjured up to scare you into coming back. 

“Your entrance back there was…” 

You’re not sure what to say anymore. Not with the underlying rage you can feel radiating off of him. Given the fact that it’s been so long, you’ve almost forgotten how to please him. To make his mind ease into those old spaces of pity where sometimes he’d grant you reprieve amongst the punishment. 

Knowing this, he looks at you with feigned innocence, taunting you with his still raised lip as though he’s having fun despite slowly inching towards the blowout. “Did you like it? I figured, it’s been so long since I’ve last toyed with that little mind of yours, best to give it a proper show.” 

He wipes his thumb across your forehead and watches you frown; your head suddenly darting back only to be ripped forward when that same hand tightens around your throat.

All at once the action leaves you gasping for air. As his thumb presses down on the centre of your neck, applying just enough pressure to pull from you a nervous wheeze as the two of you stop, he can’t help but lower his face to yours. 

“I’d consider yourself lucky that the temperament I showed back there was merely an illusion,” he tells you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Swallowing to no avail, you feel the lump in your throat become pressurized by the growing frustrations in his hand. Prompting you to panic, another airless sound emits from your lips as your eyes begin to dart around, looking at all the curious eyes that seemingly look away the second you make contact. 

You realize then that nobody cares. Whether it’s due to the intimidating presence he exudes or the potential word of mouth of his ascendance circulating the room, you don’t care, knowing it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s untouchable regardless. A force so unmovable that all you can do is pray that he’s merciless. 

As he grips your throat amongst a sea of avoidant faces, unwavering in his efforts to patronize your past behaviours, you know then that this marks the end of your freedom. That from this moment on his control over you has been reenacted without discussion. 

“Now, are we going to obey and have a nice evening or are we going to do something we might regret?” 

Looking back at him, all you can do is nod, feeling that alleviation slowly come. Granting you the chance to breathe again, you cough quietly and reach for your throat, rubbing the pain away as you watch his previously aggressive demeanour fall into amusement, once again stringing you along. 

At which point you effectively zone out. Still feeling his hand flush against the small of your back, it’s as if suddenly your mind becomes null, avoiding all thoughts as he leads you through the main entry of the ballroom, turning down a seemingly endless stream of corridors until you find yourself face to face with an ornate door. 

Once there, he peels away from your frame and begins to pick the lock, wickedly grinning at you once that familiar click rings out, reminding you of the old him. Of how he was before the ritual, all doe-eyed and excited to experience the world and all its gifts. 

It makes your lip pull between your teeth nervously, seeing him unbend the length of his back to look at you. To smirk in a way that feels so real and him that you almost forget that he’s changed. That, instead of picking the lock to loot the room and make charming little jokes at your expense, he’s doing it so he can get you alone. So that he can do unspeakable things the old Astarion would never think to do.

“Shall we?” 

His voice rings out like a request even though you know deep down it’s a command, secretly telling you to hurry up. So, doing just that, you brush past him without so much as a glance, taking in the endless wall of books that greets you as you enter, opening your mouth in slight awe until the door closes behind you. 

Turning back, you’re then given all but a second before he’s on you. Grabbing you with such violent desperation, a hand snakes around your waist, claiming you like he used to do when you were still devoted to being his. When this idea of free will was nothing more than a passing thought that barely grazed the surface.

Back when he was still yours. 

Immediately, the familiarity of it wreaks havoc on your chest. Your heart, once filled with longing and fear now radiates nothing but need. Demanding that old sensation of flesh brushing against flesh as his other hand takes hold of the base of your neck.

The second you feel it, all thoughts are lost. Every previous reservation you once had melting into nothing against the hot feeling of your mouth pushing against his, prying open both lips to taste his tongue. To remind yourself of what it felt like to be wanted in the simplest sense. 

Deepening the kiss, he moans and somehow pulls you closer, forcing your chests together as he maneuvers you backwards, stumbling over a raised edge of a rug before practically tossing you onto the floor. 

“Years,” he groans then, pulling away to stare down at you with knitted brows and swollen lips, distracting you with that pretty face as he begins to rip the bodice of your dress. “I’ve spent years without this flesh —without this blood.” 

His fingers pry at the fabric, peeling back the only layer you have to hide behind until you’re left exposed from the waist up, anxiously breathing at the sight of his hunger. 

A sight that leaves you helpless beneath his grasp as he quickly leans forward, palming one breast while holding your face with the other. Beneath him, all you’re able to do is take each touch as it comes, savouring the uncharacteristic softness as his thumb brushes against your nipple, teasing it with gentle swipes as he goes in for another kiss.

Similar to his hands, there’s a strange feeling that comes along with it. As he nibbles your bottom lip, choosing to give you control, you know that something’s off. That instead of displaying the softest version of him you’ve felt in years, he should be punishing you with reckless brutality. Taking what’s rightfully his without so much as a thought.

Because of this, you reluctantly pull away, gasping for air as he hovers above you, still stroking your chest and face. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Normally, such a question would result in some sort of punishment. A night of solitary confinement. Perhaps the silent treatment for up to a week. 

Back before you realized just how fucked up everything had gotten he used to isolate you for things as simple as this. Forcing everyone around to ignore your every waking move, he found that loneliness was the key to your obedience. The only way to control whatever reckless thoughts entered your mind. 

So, it’s surprising when he answers —when he lowers his mouth to give your lips one final kiss before flashing that smirk. “What do you mean?” 

You raise your brow and move to sit up, leaning against your elbows as your face contorts in confusion. “Why are you acting like him?”

“You mean me?” 

You open your mouth to respond —to fight against his words, knowing now more than ever that you should. Considering the door’s already open for conversation, you might as well get all your thoughts out while you’re able. Because after this it’s apparent, you’ll be stuck all over again, wasting away at the foot of a God who’s anything but forgiving. 

“You aren’t punishing me.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Why?”

His hand explores your face, swiping across skin that hasn’t felt a single touch since your departure. “There’s always time for punishment —for penance,” he tells you, tracing your features with featherlight strokes that have you begging for more as you push yourself upward. “Now that I have you again, there’s far more important things I want before I subject you to what you deserve.” 

“Which is?” 

He pauses for a while, continuing his ministrations in a way that has you forgetting why you left in the first place. Why, instead of subjecting yourself to the torment of his hand to feel the grace that often coincides, you decided to give it all up. 

“I haven’t quite decided yet.” 

It’s a simple statement, yet it holds far too much weight against your ears. As he speaks, your heart flutters in your chest nervously, reminding you that this thing between you is nothing more than an imbalance. A tipping scale so unevenly distributed that you’ve lost all hope for rebalance. 

Because of this, you don’t fight him when he inevitably leans forward. Nor when he presses a slightly rougher kiss to your lips, biting down with a newfound vigour that splits your lip in half. Feeling the blood pool out, you hardly react when Astarion’s lips begin to suckle the wound, lapping up whatever spills through as he rips away the rest of your clothes, tossing it all aside.

Suddenly cold, you find your arms rising to hold him all over again. Wanting to feel the fabric of his clothes pressing against your bare skin, you grip him tight and groan, relishing in this moment. Enjoying the familiarity of it as something warm blooms across your aching core, fuelling the need for your hips to slightly buck up, making him laugh. 

Light and airy, the sound filters through your mouth like smoke, taking hold of your lungs in a way that leaves you addicted. Wanting to chase that past feeling, your hands swiftly lower to his waist, your fingers tucking themselves under his clothes to touch the texture of his scar —to feel the old him amongst all the new. 

Realizing this, his movements become suddenly erratic. Forcing himself up with a grin, he then begins to quickly trail down your body, pressing his mouth to every exposed bit within his sightline, making sure to glance up at your heavy eyes and parted lips along the way. 

“Mm, still as desperate as ever, my little consort,” he tuts. 

Between the kisses he places to your freshly bruised flesh, he releases another laugh that lingers in your mind, further reminding you of him. Of the man you fell in love with. Of the man who swiftly slips between your thighs with little notice, raising the backs to rest against his shoulders. 

A sound of shock escapes your lips at the new position, craning your neck to watch him latch onto your inner thigh, suckling the plush through such a guttural moan that it forces your jaw to drop.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble then, prompting his lips to curl into a grin before he’s biting your thigh, forcing his teeth through the tender flesh before you can even think to object.

It feels better than you remember. Almost like a hot flash of pleasure before that familiar coldness kicks in, numbing the space that he suckles with haste. As his lips hollow out to drink whatever he can get, you feel his hand slip against your entrance, knuckles grazing the outer folds of your sex just right. 

Bucking your hips again, you feel his movements become one. Each time his tongue licks up, his fingers raise to the top of your cunt, flowing back down in such delicious unison you’re already ready to submit. To surrender yourself to whatever pleasures might await through the pain of your punishment.

So much so that you’re already begging for it. Through gasps that barely hit his ears, your voice whines for more. For more pressure or movement or frankly, whatever the hell he’s willing to give despite how undeserving you are.

“Please, Astarion.”

The moment he hears that little please he’s pulling away, grinning at you with teeth and tongue all covered in your blood. 

“I’m sorry, you want me to please you?”

He gently pushes two fingers into your entrance, curling the ends ever so slightly while keeping them still, watching as you press your lips together, unable to speak.

“To pleasure you?”

Slowly, he angles his head to suck your thigh again, dragging a fresh wave of blood through his hungry lips before shifting towards your cunt and licking a tentative strip directly above his fingers. 

“To taste you, perhaps?”

His voice is low, droning on in that teasing way that has you looking down annoyed, taking in the way he goes back and forth, debating whether or not to relent. To give in to the indulgence, watching you squirm beneath him. Forcing you to stir in your own prolonged pleasure until he all but sits back up, digging his fingers into the holes in your thigh, telling you you’ll get what you deserve once you’ve come back home.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

[randoimago]

Headcanons of Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Astarion with shy s/o?

Having a Shy S/O

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): You got it!!

Astarion

Not only are you filling his stomach, but you're filling his ego. He revels anytime he notices how flustered you get with his flirting. Even when he toned it down a touch to be softer for you, noticing the nervousness and how you seem bashful makes him smirk a tad.

He wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable with his affections, he'd never do that to you. But he does enjoy when he illicits such reaction from you. Finds it almost as delicious as your blood.

Thinks that most people are below him so he isn't really one to step up and talk to others on your behalf. But if he notices you starting to be a bit overwhelmed due to your shyness then he'll sigh and tell the other person to make their point and piss off.

Gale

He has to remind himself about your shyness now and then just because he's such an open and friendly guy. The first time you met (after he was saved from almost certain death) he reached over to shake your hand without thinking twice. So he apologizes for any unnecessary flustering he causes you.

Can't help but admire how sweet you look when you are flustered and bashful. Wants to shower you in affection, but holds back just so it doesn't overwhelm you.

Will gladly step up and do any and all talking if you're too shy to deal with people. Of course, he ends up rambling a bit and you might need to tug on his sleeve or something (if you're lucky, the other person might just walk away, although it'll make Gale grumble a bit).

Halsin

There's a barely noticeable smirk on his face when he sees how easily flustered he can make you. Doesn't do it on purpose, he just flirts with you naturally and a chuckled apology falls from his lips when he sees you getting flustered from his words.

Halsin is a big guy so he doesn't mind stepping in front of you in case you want to hide due to other people's presence. He's fine with taking the lead. He finds it very adorable if you do hide behind him.

If you'd like, he could become an emotional support bear for you now and then if you do start feeling a tad overwhelmed. Might have to settle for being a cat depending on the location (but he doesn't stop purring for you so hopefully that helps fuel your confidence a bit).

Wyll

Oh he finds your shyness to be quite adorable. He won't tease you about it though as he can be shy with his own affections at times.

He'll move at your pace, not wanting to overwhelm or scare you. Light kisses to the top of your head, briefly touching your hand with his. Just something simple and gentle to let you know that he loves you, but nothing that'll make you too flustered (even though he would find that precious).

But Wyll is happy to step in and speak on your behalf if you trust him to do so. He understands being overwhelmed by so much attention. And while he might still have some self consciousness with his new appearance, he'll still gladly step in for your comfort.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[ashwhowrites]

Cheerleader! Reader is insecure because she wants to date Eddie, but he doesn't seem interested in her, one night she's sleeping at Chrissy's and Chrissy starts to talk about Eddie and Reader panicks because she thinks Chrissy likes Eddie, but she's just buying from him, and also she's giving Eddie advises on how to invite Reader on a date, one day, after cheer practice, Eddie waits for reader, and he says to her that he needs to talk with her, but she panicks because she thinks Eddie is gonna ask about Chrissy, so she escaped from Eddie, but he goes to her house because he really wants a date with reader, and he explains to her that he wants a date with her, and they go out and start to date, and Chrissy's happy about them

I AM A SUCKER FOR CHEERLEADER FICS!

I hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it :) thank you for requesting

...me?

Beautiful board made by @starksbabie

Y/N was a head cheerleader, which meant she could date anyone in the school that she wanted. Every guy in the school wanted to have a cheerleader on their arm. Except for the one she wanted more than anyone. Y/N had her eyes set on Eddie Munson since last year. But he made it clear that the popular crowd and the jocks were people he despised.

Y/N wanted to ask him out more than anything, but he never gave her another look. She tried to be friendly, and show that she wasn't an enemy. But all her smiles were met with a stone face. Her waves were never returned, and any time she got a tiny bit of eye contact, he'd look away instantly. She knew the crush wouldn't go away, but she decided not to lie to herself by believing he'd like her too.

~~~

It was a Friday night and Chrissy was hosting a sleepover for the team. All the girls wrapped up in their sleeping bags as a game of truth or dare worked through the circle.

"Chrissy, truth or dare?" Lacy asked, Chrissy gave some thought before answering truth.

"Is it true you and Eddie Munson are sneaking around?" Y/N's head snapped to Chrissy. A look of disbelief on her face, Chrissy and Eddie? Her best friend and crush?

Y/N felt her stomach turning in knots as Chrissy stuttered to answer. She hated the way Chrissy's cheeks blushed as she looked caught.

"Just buying his weed! That is all." She laughed, her eyes locking on Y/N anxiously. Y/N almost felt a little betrayed. Chrissy knew Y/N liked him. She was caught, and she was guilty.

Y/N quickly excused herself to the bathroom. If anyone were to change Eddie's mind on the popular group, it would be Chrissy.

~~~

Monday morning rolled around and Y/N still felt sick to her stomach. She hasn't talked much to Chrissy. She didn't mean to be so bitchy, but being around Chrissy reminded her that Eddie was available to Chrissy.

Y/N can't get a wave from Eddie, but Chrissy gets secret hangouts. It was clear Eddie was not interested in her at all. Losing him to her best friend was a tricky pill to swallow.

~~~

The lunch bell rang and Chrissy prepared to meet Eddie in the woods, collecting her jacket as she knocked into Y/N.

"Oh hey!" Chrissy greeted, Ever since that sleepover Y/N was different. Chrissy had a feeling why but couldn't blow Eddie's cover.

"Eddie?" Y/N asked, her arms crossed as she gave Chrissy that sad look.

"It's not like that, I promise. Just weed." Chrissy tried to explain.

"Why don't you buy a bigger bulk if you go through it so fast? You see him like weekly." Y/N said she didn't believe Chrissy for a second.

"Great idea! I will ask him about that." Chrissy smiled, but Y/N wasn't convinced.

She watched as Chrissy snuck out the back doors.

~~~

"You have to do it." Chrissy snapped, her arms crossed as she stared down at Eddie.

"Um, what?" Eddie laughed, lighting his blunt as the blonde paced in front of him.

"Fucking Lacy outed me at the sleepover. Y/N knows we are meeting, and she thinks we are hooking up. I said it was just weed, but I know she doesn't believe me. She likes you, and now she thinks we are into each other. If you want her, do it now." Chrissy explained in one breath.

"But I can't! I still can't look at her without shying away. I still need more time." Eddie panicked.

Y/F/N was the girl Eddie had his eyes on for years. But the status of being the town freak scared him away. She was sweet and nice. She'd smile at him and he'd freeze. She would wave and his body couldn't function.

"The longer you wait, the longer she will hate us both," Chrissy warned.

~~~

Eddie paced outside of the gym, waiting for Y/N to come out of practice. As she made her way out of the door, Eddie was quick to stop her.

"Hey! Can I talk to you quickly?"Eddie asked, Y/N froze as his hand touched her arm. Her mind raced with reasons why he would want to talk, and then it clicked. He wanted to ask about Chrissy. She wanted to be a good friend, but she couldn't handle it. She couldn't listen to him ask about her best friend.

"Yeah, just let me change." She said with a smile. Which was a lie, She grabbed her bag from the locker room and ran out the other door.

Eddie paced back and forth as he waited for her to come back out, but every cheerleader wasn't her. Chrissy made her way out and smiled at Eddie.

"Hey, how did it go?" Chrissy asked, a smile on her face as she bounced on her heels.

"Still waiting for her to change and come out," Eddie said he was nervous. He thought he'd have more time to figure out how to ask her out. But Chrissy it was now or never, and he picked now.

"She isn't in there, Eddie. I was the last one." Chrissy explained, confused as to why Y/N would lie.

"She blew me off?" Eddie chuckled, maybe she didn't like him as much as Chrissy thought.

"I know she had a reason. Here is her address, talk to her." Chrissy said, writing the address on a piece of paper and handing it to Eddie.

~~~

Eddie felt discouraged as he pulled up to her house. She ran away from him and now he showed up at her house. What if she really wasn't interested?

He sat in his van, debating in his head if this was a good idea or not. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Y/N walking out of her house.

She softly knocked on his passenger window, he jumped at the sound but smiled once he saw her. He unlocked the door and watched as she slid in.

"You've been out here for five minutes, so I wanted to see if you were alright." Y/N joked, enjoying the way she made him laugh.

"I was trying to figure out if showing up at your house was a good idea or not." Eddie confessed.

"I'm sorry for running away. I just wasn't prepared to handle you asking about Chrissy." Y/N admitted, a pained smile on her face.

"Ask about Chrissy?" Eddie asked confused.

"Yeah... you want to ask her out, right?" Y/N said, matching Eddie's confused look with her own.

But Eddie's face cracked into a smile, a slight laugh leaving his lips.

"You've got it all wrong, gorgeous. I wanted to ask you out." Y/N was shocked at his confession. Not believing him as she looked at him suspiciously.

"Me? Why?" She asked

"Because I've liked you for a year and have been too chicken to look in your direction. Chrissy told me about the sleepover. There's nothing romantic between her and I. Just deals and she was helping me plan to ask you out. But today she told me if I didn't make a move, it would never happen. So here I am. Following you home, like a stalker, to ask you out on a date." Eddie explained, now nervous as his confession was in the air.

"I'm so dumb." Y/N said as she laughed at herself. Covering her face in embarrassment. "I can't believe I ran away."

"Hey, I spent a year running from you. No judgement here." Eddie teased. She felt grateful that he wasn't pissed off at her.

"That's true! I'd look at you and you were gone." She laughed, he joined in and agreed.

"Now that neither of us can run, can I take you out on a date?" He asked

"I'd love to."

~~~

Chrissy was more than pleased when she got calls from both of them about how amazing the date went.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[pappydaddy]

you are my love (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

a/n: i made kiara, john b, and sarah really mean in this, but its mostly kiara and sarah (john b is a little jealous tho so he joins in). in no way is this anti-these characters, they are just more likely to act this way until told off!

synopsis: jj's friends don't like y/n. y/n knows that but desperately tries everything. jj doesn't quite notice, pushing his friends further from y/n. This leads to an explosion that might result in the end of jj and reader.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: people being mean and shitty - basically bullying reader.

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- not my gif -

GIF by masonmaya31

One bonus to dating outside of your friend group: in case of a breakup, you don’t need to find new friends. One downside: what happens when your boyfriend’s friends don’t like you? That is what Y/N is worried about. Things with JJ had gotten serious, the L-word having slipped out at the sixth-month mark. Now, nearly a year into their relationship, it appeared that his friend group was reluctant to let her in and it was making her nervous.

  It was a small, tight-knit group and JJ was basically the only thing connecting her to them aside from them all living on The Cut. Well, that isn’t necessarily true, Pope did tutor her in Chemistry in freshman year and still remains friendly. In fact, Pope was really the only one who was welcoming to her. And that stung. Especially since JJ told her that John B all but forced Sarah Cameron into the group. But now that JJ was introducing her into the mix, they all seemed unwilling. JJ took some notice, but he just thought they needed to warm up to her. They were like cats - it takes a while to get them to start accepting you. 

  But JJ didn’t see the eye rolls and the shared glances between Kiara, John B, and sometimes Sarah Cameron whenever she does anything, says anything, or JJ talks about her (which, he does that a lot, making her blush and want to curl into herself). She loved when he was talking about her because he looked like he was talking about his most favourite thing on the planet - no. His favourite thing in existence. She hated hearing about herself so much, but the look on his face was enough for her to suffer through it - especially when she could always clearly see the horrible faces of his friends. 

    Even now, she wasn’t even with them. Standing at a distance as she waited at the coffee cart for their orders with Pope, she watched them peering into a store window. The store alone looked fancier than any of their houses (aside from Sarah Cameron’s) and Y/N was sure one item from it cost more than their houses combined - including Sarah Cameron’s probably. “Look at this,” JJ pointed to something in the store window. “This painting reminds me of Y/N.”

  “JJ, it’s a replica of The Girl with a Pearl Earring, I don’t think it can remind you of, Y/N.” Sarah Cameron snarked, sharing looks with Kiara and John B behind JJ’s back. Their noses curled up in a sneer and their eyes rolled so hard that Y/N feared that they would roll right back in their heads. 

  JJ looked back at them and they dropped their faces. “I know what it is,  she’s the one who showed me the painting. It’s her favourite. She talked my ear off for hours on one of our first dates about it.” He blinked, pulling a face as he broke through the three of them, making his way back over to the coffee cart. 

____

  The air was heavy with awkwardness that JJ seemed to not notice as Y/N sat beside him, tucked under his arm and reclining back against his chest. He leaned back against John B’s ratty old couch, smoke rolling from his lips as he exhaled. “Did Y/N tell you guys that her essay on the significance of Gatsby in the modern world was entered into a nation-wide contest to be put in some sort of magazine or something?” JJ spoke up suddenly when there was a lull in the conversation. 

  Y/N felt the uncomfortable heat rising in her cheeks, making her cover them with her hands - dropping her hold on JJ’s because of it. He always was finding a way to talk about her. “That’s so cool, what magazine?” Pope asked, his hand pausing in his popcorn bowl. 

  “It’s some sort of fancy one,” JJ tried to think of the name, taking another drag of his joint. Breathing out the smoke all the way, he waited until there was no more before looking down at Y/N. “What is it called? It’s big, talks about politics a lot-”

  “The New Yorker,” She answered, mumbling as if it wasn’t something to be proud of that her essay met the qualifying conditions to be entered, let alone the fact that she is one of the finalists. “My teacher kinda twisted my arm into it and I didn’t have anything to lose so I let her submit it for me. It’s not a big deal.” 

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal, Babe!” JJ exclaimed, looking down at her as he leaned forward, cradling her gently as she moved with him, stubbing the blunt out and laying it carelessly on the coffee table. John B and Kiara’s eyes watched it, shocked that he put over half a blunt down. 

  “It really is. The New Yorker is huge and for a high school student’s essay to be even just considered by them is big enough.” Pope nodded, popping two pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kiara spoke up with a shrug. Her body language and movements made it seem like it was just a simple comment. A nonchalant input to keep the conversation going. But her tone was sharp and jagged. Like a broken piece of glass aimed for the heart. Pope looked at her oddly, JJ seeming to not notice her tone. “I mean, it is a contest looking at other high school student’s essays. It’s not like she’s up against university students or published authors here.” 

  Y/N blinked, eyes drifting down to her lap where her hands now lay, fingers twisting and tugging at each other as she tried to not let the words and tone hit her. “What are you talking about? She’s like the only student in the contest still that attends a public school. The rest are all preppy little shits that probably pay for people to write their essays.” JJ questioned her, voice high in question. 

  Kiara rolled her eyes. “I know someone who is still in the running. They go to a fancy private school in Connecticut and she averaged a D in English class,” Sarah chimed in from where she sat on John B’s lap, a red solo cup clutched in her hand. “I don’t think the competition is too stiff.” 

  “You know, they’re probably right. It’s just a stupid contest and I didn’t even want to enter it anyway,” Y/N spoke up, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch and lifting herself from her little nook. JJ’s arm tried to tighten and pull her back, but she stood too quickly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as she tried not to cry. She was excited and proud about the fact that she was a finalist. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Not after they shit all over it. “We can just talk about something else, I’m gonna go into the kitchen and get some water.” 

  Quickly, she bolted for the kitchen, weaving around the few people who wandered into the house from the party outside. She blinked furiously, trying to force back the tears. They already didn’t like her, she didn’t want them to think she was a cry baby too. John B’s house wasn’t big, and the noise from outside wasn’t too loud which meant she could hear JJ’s hushed words digging into three of his friends and Pope’s noises of support. “What the hell is wrong with you guys? She’s excited about this and you just shit all over her accomplishment when she’s been nothing but nice to you guys!” 

  “It’s not our fault she’s sensitive, we were just being honest. She doesn’t have to get so upset.” Kie spoke her normal tone, her voice reaching Y/N easily as she hid behind the fridge door, trying to make it look like she couldn’t find a bottle of water even though they were right in front of her. 

  “Yeah bro,” John B spoke up. “Maybe they shut the conversation down because we’re tired of hearing about Y/N-” 

  “What the hell,” JJ roared, standing up before looking over at the fridge, trying to see if Y/N heard it. “Tired? You know what I was tired of? Trying to convince Kie to accept Sarah and hearing you complain about it. You know what was tiring? Hearing you,” He pointed to John B. “Whine like a bitch when Sarah and you had that three week fight.”

  “Those are not the same! You talk about Y/N all the fucking time,” Kie stood up, not caring that she was yelling now. “It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that! And let me fucking tell you, she’s not that special!” Ouch, that hurt. Y/N winced, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “She’s a little bit of a bitch, honestly-”

  “What the fuck did you just say,” JJ interrupted Sarah’s comment, eyes flaring with anger. Just then, the fridge door slammed and Y/N took off towards the door. It was a flash of purple (the colour of the dress JJ saved up for and bought her for her birthday which was yesterday. Pope stood, rushing after her - sensing that JJ was about to tear a strip off of their friends. “Please, tell me how she is a bitch when she gave you her last five dollars left in her paycheque so that you could have an ice cream with us when you forgot your wallet,” He directed that at Kiara. “And what about how she gave you her surfboard to use when you forgot yours? She sat there on the beach with nothing to do for three hours while you used her board,” He pointed to John B. “And you, she literally gave you the shorts she was wearing when you sat in gum so that you could go buy a new pair. You never gave them back by the way and she had to buy new ones that trip,” He pointed to Sarah who had shrunk back into the couch she was sitting on. “That is the girl that I love and you guys have been nothing but horrible to her and if I lose her, this is all on you three and I will never speak to you again. Actually, I don’t even know if I will speak to you again after tonight!” 

  With that, he stormed off, crossing the room and slamming the door all within ten seconds. It took him a second to spot Y/N and Pope, but soon his burning blue eyes spotted them at the end of the dock, Y/N’s hunched frame shaking. Pope’s hand was on her shoulder, talking quietly to - reassuring her. 

  Once JJ saw her, it was like his feet were moving on their own - carrying him to her. Within a minute, he was standing in front of her, Pope heading back into the house to gather her stuff so JJ could take her home. Hands on her shoulders, he tried to dip down to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/N-” He repeated her name in whispers, trying to get her to look at him. 

  “No, JJ,” She sniffled and his heart broke hearing the hurt in her voice. “They don’t like me. I have tried to get them to like me. I have tried everything. I was talkative then I stayed silent. I was nice to them. I tried everything and now you’re gonna break up with me because they are your best friends and they have been with you through so much-” She cut herself off with a little sniffle. “And I can’t bring myself to look at you because I know you’re gonna break up with me and my heart can’t handle so much rejection then heartbreak.” 

  JJ’s hands slid along her jaw, cupping her cheeks. Gently, he lifted her face so she was looking at him. Bloodshot and water filled eyes of someone so kind and innocent blinked up at him. A teardrop rolled from the corner of her eye. Quickly, it was swiped away by his thumb. “Y/N, I’m not going to break up with you because those assholes in there can’t see how happy you make me.”

  “But, JJ-”

  “I don’t give a damn if they are my friends. I don’t care if one of them was a saint. If they don’t like you and are mean to you, the sweetest, kindest, and most likeable person I know, then they are the problem, okay,” He asked, his own eyes welling up with tears. “You, You are the one I love. You are the person who makes me the happiest person ever. You are my best friend. You are my love.” He nearly chanted, his forehead resting against hers. 

  “So, what does this mean for your friend group?” She whispered, guilt eating at her. Even after they spoke so horribly of her, she was still worried about their friendship with JJ. 

  “I have no idea, but I am sure that with you by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He whispered like a prayer, arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a hug. He knew that was what she needed. She didn’t need a kiss. She didn’t need the words he just spoke (though they helped a lot). She just needed him to hold her. Hold her for however long she needed. So that she knew he was there. She always said a hug is the best way to feel someone’s love for you. A hug given the right way is like a hug to the heart. And this hug proved her statement.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

You can't flirt with her (USWNT x Reader, Christen Press x Reader

I don't know where this came from, it was a random idea that I ran with so I hope you enjoy it!

Words: 2k

It was my first time at camp. I wasn't as nervous as I expected, maybe because Christen was with me and we got to share a room. We had been dating for a little over two years now and we lived together. The team didn't know about us yet, we had decided to let the team get to know me first before telling them. I knew it was going to be hard, I was very attracted to her which meant I was very cuddly and flirty. 

I thought maybe I had messed up pretty much as soon as camp started. Christen was wearing jeans and a blouse that just looked amazing on her. The compliment had just slipped out. 

"You look amazing."

Christen blushed before giving me a look, "Thank you."

The looks we got from the team made me want to laugh. They were a mix between surprise and glares. Probably because they knew Christen had a girlfriend. When I was pulled aside by Tobin and Ashlyn, I knew they hadn't caught on.

"Hey, just wanted to give you a heads up, she has a girlfriend, you can't be flirting with her."

"I'm not. I like to hype people up when I can, but I'll make sure not to flirt with her."

"Good."

By time the next camp came around, I had gotten to know the team pretty well and they seemed to like me. During the last camp, I had been careful of how I interacted with Christen. The team knew we were close, but I hadn't flirted with her or anything that obviously gave away our relationship. Christen and I had decided that we would tell them this camp, although I had convinced her to let me have some fun before we did. The team had pulled a lot of pranks on me last camp so I just wanted to get a little payback. 

I decided to start out slow, complementing her more and light touches as I passed her or sat next to her. Christen would blush and lean into me. I loved that even after two years, I still had that effect on her. The girls however had given me looks and started asking about Christens girlfriend more when I was around. I just had to resist the urge to laugh every time they did. Christen on the other hand would answer the questions with a smile on her face, a smile mixed with love and amusement. As much as Christen told me off or felt mean putting the girls through this, I knew she found it at least a bit funny.

Some of the girls cornered Christen one day when they thought I wasn't around, "Why are you letting her flirt with you? It's not right, you have a girlfriend."

I watched Christen shrug, wondering how she was going to respond, "She's not flirting with me, she's just being friendly. It's how she is."

"Yeah right. She's never like that with us."

"Just drop it. She knows I have a girlfriend and I know when things get too friendly." 

"Okay."

Next, I started kissing her cheek or wrapping my arm around her when we stood or sat next to her. We would also cuddle up during movie nights. Such as right now, it was team bonding and I had my head resting in Christens lap as she played with my hair. There were only two days left of camp so everyone was trying to get as much time with each other before we left. Myself included. I had grown to like the team, but I also wouldn't see Christen for a few weeks once camp ended. I was going to Texas to see my family while Christen had to go back home for prior commitments.

"So what were those noises coming from your room last night?"

I cursed myself for not keeping Christen more quiet during last nights activities, not just because it would make them think we slept together which we did, but also out of respect. They didn't need to hear that, "Nothing."

"It sounded awfully like sex, please tell me you two didn't sleep together," Ashlyn asked bluntly, staring me down. 

"Of course not. As you keep reminding me, she has a girlfriend. Not that it's really your business, but I met a girl, Christen spent an hour or so in the hotel garden talking to said girlfriend while I had some fun."

They didn't seem to buy it, but dropped the topic, starting up other conversations. I heard parts of the different conversations, although the one about us not sharing a room next time, made me want to laugh. This was way more entertaining then I had expected. After a few minutes Christen got my attention, whispering in my ear, "I think they're getting seriously concerned about our growing relationship."

I smirked, "Wait until they find out how much time I spend between your legs."

"Y/n!"

The team looked at us, eyebrows furrowing, I just shrugged turning back to Christen, "What? It's true."

Once the girls stopped paying attention, Christen spoke again, "Do you think we should just tell them?"

"We will. Maybe tomorrow though. Let me enjoy the fun for a little bit longer."

---

Every time Christen went down on the pitch, it sent fear through every part of my being. The longer she was down, the more terrified I got and the harder it was to stop myself from running to her during a game whether I was watching or playing with her. Seeing as it was a practice, I didn't stop myself from running to her side, beating the medical team there and lacing my fingers with hers, "Chris! Chris are you okay?"

She groaned, "I'm okay. I think I hit my head a little bit and my shoulder might be bruised, but I'm okay."

I scanned over her for any obvious injuries or blood, relaxing slightly when I didn't find anything. Christen squeezed my hand, "Seriously Y/n/n, I'm okay. Help me up?"

I carefully helped her up before kissing her temple and hugging her tightly, allowing myself to relax knowing she was okay, "Ow, careful. Bruised remember?"

"Sorry."

"That is definitely not how friends react," I heard from behind me, but I was too focused on Christen to do anything about it. Coach called off practice early seeing it was the last day of camp. I helped Christen back to the locker room, not that she needed it, but I was worried which turned into overprotectiveness. The girls were giving me looks, but right now I didn't care. 

We managed to sneak away when I helped her to the shower. Christen cupped my cheek, pecking my lips quickly, "Stop worrying, I'm okay. I might be a bit sore, but it's nothing I can't handle and nothing a bath later won't fix. Now go get cleaned up while I shower." 

The girls gave me a look when I came back out, but I ignored them again. Things had happened in the past that made me really struggle when people I cared for got hurt. I hated when people I loved got hurt, accident or not, but when it came to the person I loved most in this world, that worry didn't go away easily. I felt myself getting annoyed when they wouldn't stop staring at me, so I stood up, deciding to wait to shower and wait outside instead. It was always harder to control my temper after Christen got hurt, "Didn't your parents ever teach you it's rude to stare?"

Ten minutes later, the team filed out to the bus. I had my headphones in, ignoring them as I sat at the back of the bus. Christen sat with Tobin, but looked back at me occasionally. My phone buzzed with a text from Christen.

Chris <3 : Stop being grumpy. I know you get like this after someone get's hurt, but I'm okay so stop it. It wasn't their fault. Enjoy the last day at camp, think you can do that for me?

Y/n: Yes ma'am. I need a shower when we get back.

Christen just replied with a winky emoji and went back to her conversation with Tobin. I couldn't help the small smile that stretched across my face. I noticed Tobin watching me before my phone buzzed again. This time it was a group chat with me, Tobin and Christen.

Tobin: You're Chris's girlfriend aren't you?

Y/n: About time someone figured it out. What finally got you to make the connection?

Tobin: Christen was texting her girlfriend and I noticed the smile on your face. I just kinda assumed. Why didn't you just tell us?

Y/n: Well you guys pranked me so much the first camp, I wanted payback. Chris just went along with it. She'll deny it, but she found it amusing. 

Chris: Never! I'm sorry I didn't tell you Tobin, we just wanted you guys to get to know her before you knew.

Tobin: Don't be, I understand. When are you going to tell the rest of the team? They're convinced you two are sleeping together and Chris is cheating on her girlfriend.

Y/n: They'll find out tomorrow, one last show ;)

Chris: Don't ask, I don't even know

---

Camp had officially ended which meant it was time for me to leave Christen for a few weeks. We had been apart for longer, but I would still miss her like crazy. I was leaning against the wall waiting for Christen while talking to the team. Christen walked up, standing across from me. I laced my fingers with hers, pulling her in and connecting our lips. Christen looped her arms around my shoulders as I pulled away, nuzzling my nose against her neck, "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too. It's only a few weeks baby, we'll be okay."

Christen was pulled away by Ali with a glare meant to kill, "Okay that's enough, Christen you have a fucking girlfriend, one you're about to go home to yet here you are making out with someone else. I never expected you to be this type of person Chris."

The laugh I tried to stop at how mad they looked slipped out making Ali and Alyssa glared at me, "What? You think being someone's mistress is funny?"

I cleared my throat, trying to remove the smile that had formed, "Of course not."

They crossed their arms, glares getting worse somehow, "We told you she had a girlfriend."

"I know, but-"

"No buts, you don't go after someone who's already taken."

"Can we not do a lecture now please? I want to enjoy my time with Chris before I go."

"Don't do dumb shit then. You crossed a line Y/n, you both did."

"Okay, okay I get it. She's just so attractive, amazing, smart-"

"But she has a girlfriend!"

At this point I was starting to wonder how smart they actually were. I knew they didn't know about me before, but I really thought they knew Christen better than that and would put it together. Christen was the most loyal and faithful person there was, she would never cheat on someone.

"I am very aware. I know her girlfriend very well."

"How?"

"Well, I've known her girlfriend for about 30 years, shower, dress and feed her everyday, see her in the mirror everyday. Do I really have to keep going for you guys to take the hint? Let's see what I see her girlfriend do. I- I mean she wakes up next to her almost everyday, plays with her hair when she can't sleep, makes her dance with her when work is getting too much because no matter her mood it always makes her smile, I tell her stupid stories to ma-"

Ali groaned loudly, pushing my shoulder, "Oh you bastard. You are her girlfriend. Why didn't you just tell us that? Why put us through that?"

"Sorry, you guys are just fun to mess with. We wanted you to get to know me before you knew. It was also a bit of payback after all the pranks I got last camp. I honestly thought you would realise. Can I go back to kissing my girlfriend before I don't see her for weeks please?"

[ot9snumber1]

call me at midnight

hirai momo x blackpink!reader

summary: you think four best friends are enough to get you by in life. that is, until jennie introduces you to nayeon, and until nayeon introduces you to momo.

warnings: fluff, introverted reader, rushed bc i wanted to put it out for momo's bday <3 happy bday my best girl!

—

being friends with jennie means being friends with a lot of people. namely, the three other girls in your group—whom you met thanks to jennie forcing you to be social during your trainee days.

it all paid off, of course. debuting in a group with your four closest friends was a dream come true! you were convinced you needed nothing else in life.

until jennie introduces you to her other idol friends.

if being friends with jennie meant being friends with a lot of people, then being friends with nayeon meant being friends with half the world.

she was so friendly and energetic, you couldn't possibly stay still around her! (she even tells you that you remind her of one of her members.)

okay. your four best friends and one new friend, surely that was more than enough, right?

"and this is jeongyeon, sana, jihyo, mina, dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu!" nayeon says energetically as she pointed to various members in the practice room.

you nod, trying to remember all their names. (you eye everyone carefully. jeongyeon, sara, ji...jiwoo?, miyeon, dahyun, chae...won, nevermind. you'd figure them all out eventually.)

"i thought twice was nine?" you ask nayeon, who seems to have a revelation when you mention that. nayeon snaps her fingers, "ah! momo hasn't come back from the bathroom!" she groans, "i bet she stopped by the vending machines for snacks again."

just then, a dark-haired girl with blunt bangs walked into the practice room, soda and a tiny bag of chips in hand. you swear you see nayeon's eye twitch, but you were a bit too distracted by the sudden wave of nervousness you felt from being in the mystery girl's presence.

the mystery girl who you realize is momo.

the momo who you spent about an hour talking her ear off after she offered some chips. (you tend to ramble when you get nervous, you tend to get nervous when you're around pretty girls. momo is a pretty girl.)

(...and nayeon's pissed you forgot to record the dance challenge she invited you over for. at least you can go back and see momo again?)

you develop a crush on momo a lot faster than you realize. you're always talking about her, making excuses to mention something she said or likes, comparing her to anything your members do.

it was very suspicious for you to talk about someone you only met once this much. naturally, your members find out about your crush before you do.

"you like momo, huh?" lisa suddenly pipes up while you're trying to stretch. "didn't know you were into dancers. you know, me and momo kind of have the same hair—"

"hold on, what the hell are you talking about me liking momo?" you resist the urge to smack lisa for flirting with you, but you've known her for years now. it was something you just grew to tolerate somehow.

"you talk about her all the time! especially about how cool her haircut is, or her voice, or some random habit you saw from the one minute you spent with her.

"..it was one hour."

"that doesn't make any difference." lisa crosses her arms and stands up straight in front of you. "i can't believe you don't realize how smitten you are with her."

"don't word it like that." you cross your arms too, like a kid retaliating against their playground bully. the two of you have a staring contest that you eventually lose because the stupid grin that appears on her face when you start blushing distracts you.

"you should ask for her number! mina says she's really sweet." lisa teases, you just shove her face away and get to practice.

of course the other three weren't immune to teasing you either.

rosé didn't bother you as much as lisa did, but her little comments about how you were buying more peaches recently or taking more dance classes never failed to make you blush.

and somehow, even with lisa teasing you, her witty attacks were nothing compared to what jennie and jisoo had in store.

"y/n-ah, i bought those drinks you wanted." jisoo says as she returned to the dorms, handing you the plastic bag while you barely leaned up from the couch to gracefully accept it. "thank youuuuu!" you sigh happily, hugging the three bottles before sitting up to drink one.

"i also dropped by twice's dorms to give something back to nayeon. momo says hi." you nearly spit out your drink and ruin the blanket you just bought.

weeks had gone by and you'd already endured the teasing from three members. jennie was awfully silent whenever momo would be brought up, which worried you even more. not knowing if she just didn't care or if she had the most sinister plan than all of them combined made your stomach flip uncomfortably.

it turned out to be the latter.

"y/n?" jennie yawns, walking into your room one night when you couldn't sleep. "forgot to give this to you." she mumbles, handing a piece of paper with glittery pink writing on it before saying goodnight and leaving.

after jennie shuts the door, you inspect the paper and nearly scream.

call me, y/n! i don't mind listening to you talk~ ♡ 모모

(maybe it wasn't an evil plan, but it sure was evil to casually give you a heart attack at 12 AM.)

you take momo's note a little too literally and call her number. you sink deep into your blanket out of nervousness and excitement. (and the realization that you were calling her this late!)

"hello?"

it was the first time you heard her voice since the day you met the rest of twice. surprisingly, she didn't sound tired at all.

"hi, momo!" you huff out, sounding completely out of breath. "jennie gave me your number just now."

you can hear an "oh!" and what you assume to be momo getting in bed. "well, what are you waiting for? tell me about your day!"

you smile, your nerves being eased by momo's comfortable aura. you could feel it through the phone, somehow.

"well, jisoo told me you said hi."

"i did!" you both chuckle quietly. "she was asking for nayeon, but nay wasn't home yet so i talked to her for a bit and she mentioned how you were doing."

you audibly gulp at the idea of that. knowing jisoo, you're almost 100% sure she was telling momo good things. still, it didn't hurt to confirm that.

"all good things, i hope."

"oh, yeah, don't worry. she kept going on and on about how you love dogs and how clingy you are when you're comfortable with someone.."

you bite your lip, was there such thing as too good? jisoo was trying to set you up with momo! shamelessly! and momo didn't notice!

"that's good." you take deep breaths as you hear silence from the other end of the call. "she bought me some drinks that i've been asking for, too. well, more like begging, but i did it really nicely!" you could hear momo struggle not to laugh, it makes you laugh too.

"anyway, she bought me this peach juice i've been wanting to try. then mango juice, and my favorite apple cider."

momo gasps, "you like apple cider?"

"of course!"

"me too!" you can practically hear the smile in her voice. "i'll bring you some next time i see you then."

"i'll be waiting!"

momo has tear stains on her cheeks from laughing so hard and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much by the time she goes to sleep that night.

momo loves talking to you.

[isthedogawolfdog]

I just saw a reel on Instagram, which I absolutely refuse to link because I don’t want to give it more views so I attached a recording of some of the more relevant parts above, but basically this woman (who I assume was a photographer due to the cameras and such) was in the middle of the Arctic doing who knows what. She starts off the video saying something “incredible” happened, and the footage then cuts to her being surrounded by roughly 13 wild wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Due to the poor quality that is my recording, I’ll try and break down what’s happening to the best of my ability.

Throughout the video you can see that the wolves seem not quite quite laid back, but aren’t scared. The wolf closest to the camera at roughly seven seconds in is regarding them with a look that kinda says “hey, what’s this?”.* All the wolves are either walking along on their path, or taking a closer look, not necessarily circling the two individuals but definitely keeping an eye on them. This is probably due to them not seeing people at all prior to this experience. Now, I know that might sound odd, but some areas in the Arctic or places super far north in general have wolves that just haven’t seen people. There was a documentary (which I forget the name of) that covered researchers interacting with a pack who hadn’t seen people. There was also a book (Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat) published a while ago that dealt with a pack similarly. When described, the behavior in both the book and documentary kinda reminds me of the wolves in this video.

A quick look at the animals tells me these people aren’t in any real danger, however, should the wolves get more curious and get closer things could probably get a bit tricky. Wolves being naturally neophobic, attacks on humans from healthy wild wolves are slim to none these days. Plus, you really shouldn’t interact with wild animals no matter what they’re acting like. Preferably these people would’ve tried scaring them away the second they saw them approaching (acting aggressive, maintaining eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t run!), but instead, we had to have a Disney princess moment.

In the extremely rare chance that the wolves had seen these people as food, we would be seeing more quicker movement, heads below their shoulders**, various behaviors to test and see whether the people were fit enough for a snack, etc. though this is not the case here. So why, might you be wondering, is this bad if the wolves aren’t hunting the people and the people aren’t interacting with the wolves?

Well, you should never, never, interact with wild animals like this, which if you’ve been following my blog for a while now you probably already know. These wolves, if they so happen to see people again, now associate people with something they can get close to without them getting hurt, which works great if you want a cool selfie, but isn’t good if you are a park ranger, a worried parent, or any other person in a position of authority really, let alone if you have a gun. Historically, if a wild animal (especially a wolf!) gets too close to people, they get shot. It doesn’t matter if the animal was exhibiting dangerous behavior or not, people can’t risk it. Basically, wolf getting closer to people and realizing they can do it without problems = them trying again at a time where things are different and people think “oh no, big and wolf!” and kill it.

I’m not sure how the encounter ended, but later footage shows the wolves farther away rallying as a group, so I assume everything went okayish despite the obvious errors. TL:DR, these people are endangering these animals with their need for a cool video, don’t be a Disney princess, and stay away from wild animals even if they look friendly.

*the wolf closest to the camera has its ears kinda flat and to the side, this is called airplane ears by some biologists (yes seriously) and it is a sign of uncertainty.

**fun fact: theories vary, but some have guessed that prey animals can tell whether a wolf is hunting from whether or not their heads are below their shoulders or not! This would explain why we see videos of wolves calmly walking passed a herd of elk while they stay rested, and why other times the elk will bolt as soon as they see the predator.

[ficjoelispunk]

Hi Emyyy! ❤️

I’m completely obsessed with Be my Assistant, I’m a ghost reader most of the time, but I make a point of saying that this story is amazing, looking forward to the next chapters.

I also saw that your Requests are open, and I thought if you could write something about Joel being extremely protective... just an idea…

OMG! Thank youuuu. 🥹 Be my Assistant, It means a lot to me... I’m glad you’ve liked it.

And, sure I can write for you, it be a pleasure <3

-

I’ll take care of you

"She never looked nice, she looked like art. And art wasn't supposed to be nice, it was supposed to make you feel something."

Summary: You needed to solve a situation that put you in trouble, your salvation was always around you and you never realized, you would never expect your salvation to come from it.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. Reader.

Wordcount: 6.4k

Warnings: Physical aggressions, canon, protective Joel.

Oneshot

A/N: Just to remind you that English is not my first language, so I apologize for the grammatical errors.

One of the few clandestine bars in the QZ was crowded tonight. Crowded bar in a QZ wouldn't be new, it's not like having a lot of programming on a night locked up in QZ. But it was clandestine because, you know, alcohol and the current situation of humanity awakens the worst of the human being, it’s difficult to maintain order when you have alcohol involved. So, FEDRA decided that ending leisure would be easier than monitoring.

You've never been here. You was accompanied by one of the teachers who teaching in the FEDRA school together with you, Denise, she was also your friend, or at least the person with whom you had the most contact here. And particularly, you was feeling so ridiculous for being here. But apparently that was the only way. Your only salvation.

When you live in an extreme environment. It seems that your whole mind revolves around extreme attitudes. God had already forgotten about you for a long time, you had been stuck in this place for 18 years.

It wasn’t as if before you had already gone through a training on how to survive the apocalypse, just as they did when the fire alarm roong in the school hallway sometimes for training. You were completely useless, if it wasn't for your brain. So, yes, you were stuck here, because it was a safe place.

It wasn't like you wanted to live in this world either. But you were here, you stayed for some reason then, it made sense to continue living one day at a time.

"It's the one who is leaning against the wall at the back of the bar"

You heard Denise's coordinates, but waited a moment to turn around and look. Unfortunately, the man was already staring at you. A burning cold radiated through your stomach as if you were losing the floor. You looked away quickly.

Ok. It's now or never.

You took a deep breath, taking the first step towards the man. Deviating from the people who crowded the unhealthy establishment. He was tall, his arms strong crossed, placing more emphasis on his imponence. The expression not at all friendly. His forehead formed a wrinkle between his eyebrows, which made his expression harder. The dark eyes, as if I could kill just with the look.

Your heart was racing, if it weren't for the music, and the buzz of the conversations, you could say that the sound of your heartbeat could be heard miles away. Nervousness, anxiety took over your body, your hands were sweating.

The man stared at you without even blinking. When you were close enough to him, you spoke.

"You're Joel, right?"

He studied you. Running his eyes through your body, without answering. He looked over your head, being silent, squeezing his arms more in front of his body. You wondered if you had spoken too quietly, and he hadn't listened to you. Or if he was really choosing to ignore you.

"Okay..." you hummed, looking at the side "sorry, that was a mistake" you turned around, to make your way back.

A man bumped into you. Joel pulled your body close to his, carefully, just in an attempt to avoid the shock between you and the man.

"Be careful where you walk" he growled at the man, who didn't even have the trouble to apologize.

***

Joel had seen you walking through the QZ before. The first thing that crossed his mind was, how God - if He existed - had the courage to leave someone like you, here, in this world forgotten by Him?

You walked so lightly that it was possible to believe that your feet didn't even touch the ground. Your features were delicate, gentle eyes. So soft. You were like a breeze in a field of flowers in the spring. Always stacking books in your arms. Walking as if no one could see you.

But Joel saw you. Not only did him see, how inevitably, him automatically blamed himself for thinking about putting his hands on you, feeling the softness of your skin, holding your hair, resting his lips on your neck, feeling your smell, your body on his, your warmth. For imagining how good you would feel with him. How good he could be for you, how he would do everything he could for you to stay that way, exactly like that, as if the fucking world wasn't over yet.

And now see you here, in this bar, in the underworld of the apocalypse, your angelic figure in a stupid summer dress, highlighting the soft of your breasts, your hair stuck behind your head, letting the rest loose fall on your shoulders, shit! What was the angelic creature doing here, in the middle of this hell?! What did you do walking towards him? Looking at him as if you were in pain... The things he would be willing to do to get you out of the middle of this dirt... take you away from this worm den.

Your voice was so sweet, that he could be selfish and ask you to repeat, just for him to listen to you once again.

"What do you want?" His voice was deep and hoarse, carried by the accent.

You turned your body to face him, while Joel held your arm balancing you so that you stood up again. As soon as he made sure you were balanced, he moved his hands away from your arm. And goddammit... your skin was as soft as he imagined it could be, it was a sin for him to touch something like you. You were so close to him that he could smell a lavender smell that exhaled from you.

You held your index finger, scratching your cuticle. Avoiding looking at him. It was almost painful not to be able to look you in the eye. He tried not to watch you so much, so as not to look like a crazy man.

"I heard you have pills, I need one"

Joel raised an eyebrow, looking at you again. Why did you need pills? You didn't do the kind of girl who used drugs, or who needed controlled medicines. You looked healthy, so healthy that it was offensive someone so healthy in the middle of this shit.

"What kind?"

"The kind that makes someone sleep. Sleep without the risk of waking up"

***

This man didn't even look at you. He seemed to be hating you with all his strength. Shit! You had never done that before, you didn't know how to do it.

Now his eyebrows were united. Maybe you didn't express yourself right.

You shook your head.

"Not for the person to die. It's not that" even though it would be exactly that "it's the dosage, the dose needs to be strong" you tried to explain.

He looked away from you again, straightening himself on the wall. It was as if he was disappointed that he had to deal with a person like you. Who doesn't even know what you needs, or what you wants to buy. A perfect idiot, who is making him waste time.

"How many?" He asked.

"How many do you have"

He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

"I'll deliver it to you in two days, after the turn"

You blinked a few times.

"Okay," you nodded, "where?"

"I'll find you"

***

You are a simple woman. So simple that sometimes the feeling is lowered to useless. You're not good with weapons, you know almost nothing about how to survive outside. Never - not even when you were in high school - got involved in a fight, in fact you were excellent at being invisible. Going unnoticed was your specialty.

Your tastes revolved around art, history, philosophy, music, cinema and books. No manual work, no engineering, no medicine, nothing that was really worth it now in this scenario.

But eventually, after the QZ was well established, you got a job at the FEDRA school, as an Arts teacher. That was your routine, teaching children and adolescents, what was art. Have you ever imagined a world without art? And an apocalypse with art? Yeah, none of these scenarios were positive. It was not an easy job, in fact this was the farthest from being something "risky" you came close to in your entire life. Teaching art to children in an apocalyse, it was like telling a terminal patient, to believe in a miracle.

Life for you passed in a quiet and tedious way. The only time you subjected yourself to something - in your opinion - absurd, was when you learned that one of the smugglers were selling a copy of Pride and Prejudice for 10 cards. It was the best.

Assimilating all this to cowardice is not that bad now, is it? You criticized yourself for not knowing how to defend yourself. For not knowing what to do in a risky situation. And now, more than ever.

Mainly because, approximately 6 months ago, a new battalion of FEDRA soldiers were reassigned to this QZ. One afternoon, Denise introduced you to her new boyfriend, who was accompanied by another man.

"Nice to meet you" you said shaking hands with your friend's boyfriend.

"The pleasure is mine. This is Maxwell"

The other man reached out to you. You gave in to the handshake, which he immediately pulled to his lips to press a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Nice to meet you, beautiful" he said.

The eyes running through you, as if you were a piece of meat.

Immediately your alerts were turned on, the discomfort ran through your veins flooding your body with an unconscious repulsion.

"I don't like him" you tell to Denise.

"Stop being paranoid, he's a gentleman, and his salary is great"

You made a face at her, who smiled ignoring your disgust.

Since then, you have practically run away from this Maxwell.

"Hey, Teach!"

The voice you try to avoid, entered through your ears and wrapped your stomach at the same moment.

You looked away from the book to the door of your classroom. Maxwell had his hand over the gun he paraded through the corridors, and a petulant smile stamped on his face.

"Can I help you with something?"

He came approaching your table, until he was in front of you.

"Actually, I’d like to make an invitation"

You sighed. Closing your book, keeping it in your bag, and getting up.

"Go ahead" you smiled embarrassedly.

"My turn ends now at 6 p.m., I thought I could accompany you to your house, who knows, eat something, I have some cards..."

Your eyes ran to the clock at the back of the room. 17:50.

"Sorry, Maxwell, I actually already have other plans, maybe another time?!"

You nodded to him, taking the first steps towards the door. But even before your hands could put your bag on your shoulder, your back hits the board hard, behind you.

Maxwell held your throat, while pressing his body on yours. His face so close to yours, just being separated by the beret flap of the FEDRA uniform he wearing.

"Do you think you can fool me? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Please, just..."

“Huh?”

He pushed you harder, squeezing his fingers more around your neck.

"You don't have any fucking plans, I follow you every night and you make the same route every day! Every time Denise invited you to dinner, you said there was an appointment, but you were at home..."

You were running out of air.

"What the fuck..." a third voice caught your attention.

The squeeze loosened, and you slipped down the wall, with your hands in your throat trying to relieve the pressure that settled there, coughing with the oxygen invading your lung.

Maxwell looked at the girl standing at the door, with her eyes snapping and her mouth open in shock by the scene she was witnessing.

"Ellie..." you tried to say, while straightening the posture.

The soldier walked towards her, but you held his arm.

"No. She's my student," you said with your hands on his chest, pushing him back, "it's all right"

"If you open your mouth" he growled on your face leaning over you "I disappear with you. You know that an art teacher will not be missed by anyone"

Since then, this bastard has been blackmailing you in every possible and impossible way.

Ellie was the only student really interested in your classes, she was interested in the techniques in paintings, the books you presented, you developed an affection for this girl, you would not be able to let something happen to her. Never.

And out of fear, an unreal fear that this man ended up implanting in your brain, you have been giving him more than half of your cards, with the thought that the cards will keep his hands to himself.

For a while, this worked, but now, he was bored. And he was furiously after you. The only way out you could think of was to disappear with him, before he disappears with you. That was the bravest act your brain could think of.

You would be ready, you would dope him and then kill him. And now you were waiting for the damn pills, to put your plan into action.

Your brain was so overwhelmed by despair and panic, that this was the best solution you thought of.

That was it, you just had to put up with two more days. Get out of class, and go straight home, as soon as possible, before Maxwell's turn is over, lock all the locks, push your closet on the door, and wait until the next day.

Your thoughts were aligned and you knew exactly what to do. You had passed by the library to take an anatomy book home, and study the possibilities of where exactly you should cut, so as not to make so much mess.

It would have to be like this, because you couldn't run away from the QZ, you couldn't report it, you would die. You would have to kill him, because it was the only solution. FEDRA soldiers die every single day. They wouldn't give importance to one more. Right?

Your feet made their way home automatically, practically running, while your mind rambling about the murder you planned. When a squeeze in your arm pulled you into an alley, lifting you off the ground, making you stumble on your own feet.

Your eyes snapmed with fear. It was Maxwell.

"Let me go" you knocked, uselessly, on the arm that pulled you. It was as if you were staping a wall, he didn't even seem to feel it. "Leave me alone"

"Your little shit" he murmured words over his shoulder, as he dragged you into the dark alley.

"Stay way from me"

He pushed you to a wall, damp, behind some containers of garbage and rubble.

His arm over your neck, leaving you breathless. His eyes looked like a hungry animal ready to devour his prey. While his hands slid harshly through your body, lifting your blouse.

"Let me go, you disgusting" you tried to push him, hyperventilating.

Would it be like that? Would you be raped here, in this place?

"You're a little beauty, I bet you must be all wet for me"

In a sudden movement, he turned you with your back to him, pushing your head on the wall, holding one of your arms against your back. You got dizzy, feeling the point that hit the throbbing wall on your forehead.

You were so disgusted, so scared, that your body disconnected from you, and you couldn’t order your brain to coordinate your movements to fight Maxwell, it was as if you were totally empty of strength. Incapable.

“That’s right, don’t fight, I don’t like to have a lot of work when you fight, but if you want, it will be more interesting...”

Maxwell squeezed your ass, before pressing his body on you.

"Stop, please," you murmured.

"Hey!" A deep voice echoed in the alley.

Maxwell, he moved away from you a little.

"Go away, man, I won't share this with anyone," he licked your ear.

You whimpered.

"Let her go" the voice was closer, you couldn't identify in the dark.

“I'm going to finish it quickly, man, you can keep her later, you'd better get out of here before you find problems"

"I told you to let her go" the man pushed Maxwell's shoulder.

He let you go.

Soon after, you heard the sound of a punch. You tried to concentrate, turning your body to see what was happening.

Maxwell was on the ground, trying to get up.

"Okay, man, you can get her first then"

Before Maxwell got up, the man kicked his stomach, keeping him on the floor, going over Maxwell, throwing several punches in his face.

The man raised Maxwell off the ground, holding his vest.

"Yeah, you piece a shit, I'm get her, but first I'll make sure you never look at her again"

He gave it one last punch. Releasing Maxwell's soft body on the floor.

He turned to you. Growling. Blood-red hands.

It was Joel. The smuggler you met last night.

Your eyes were snapping, you didn't know what to do, your whole body was shaking, you were hyperventilating. With your hands on your knee, trying to support your soft body.

Joel walked to you slowly with his hands trembling up.

"Are you okay?"

You got up, crossing your arms around your body. Looking at the disfigured soldier fallen on the ground, behind you.

Joel shook his head.

"Don't look at him, look at me"

Your eyes obeyed as if it were automatic. Joel's expression had changed drastically from a beast to a worried and cautious man.

He reached out his hand gently to touch your chin, turning your head to the side to look at you.

"Maybe you need stitches" the low and calm tone.

You frowned.

In the midst of all this chaos, you didn't even feel the hot blood running down your face.

Your hands went against the throbbing point on your head, pressing your fingers there, feeling the wet and viscous texture, bringing it to the front of your face to examine. Blood. A lot of blood.

"I can't..." you murmured, looking down, and back, as if you were looking for people who might be watching you "I can't go to the medical center, they'll want to know what happened, they'll know..."

Joel frowned, highlighting that expression mark that falls right in the middle of his eyebrows.

"You're losing a lot of blood" he said, without ever letting go of your face, his eyes examining you, his free hand reached a scarf in his jeans pocket, pressing the fabric on your wound.

Your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling the air through your teeth.

"We need to get out of here" Joel looked back quickly towards Maxwell's unconscious body, turning his eyes to you "I can take care of it, if you want, you won't be safe in your house, anyway"

It took you a while, feeling the small pressures he made with the fabric in your wound. But you nodded to him.

"Hold it like this, for me" he directed his hand to hold the handkerchief pressed on your forehead "can you walk?"

He walked away from you looking at you, looking for some more injury.

You nodded.

He wore the usual frown, one of his hands pressing the middle of your back, as he walked next to you.

Usually walking the streets was normal, no one wanted to look at your face. Today, on the other hand, there wasn't a person who didn't look at you. Joel, in turn, shot with his eyes every single person who took the look at you for more than 5 seconds, causing some to even cross the street.

You accompanied him to - where you assumed you were - to his house. He supported your elbows, helping you climb the stairs.

The apartment was not much different from everyone at QZ. But his was more disorganized. A small radio station - illegal inside the QZ - on the table, maps scattered on the sofá wear out. Empty glasses on the coffee table. Some windows blocked with wood. A layer of dust on all the furniture and especially on the floor. A yellow light was what made the environment a little more cozy, perhaps.

He pulled a chair for you to sit down.

Joel moved quickly through the small space, reaching from one of the cabinets, a first aid box - probably also the result of something illegal - pulling a chair in front of you.

***

Joel was not going to deny that he already imagined you here, in this apartment with him, but he never imagined you here in a situation like this.

Seeing your face bathed in blood was something that made his body boil. Your perfect face, now it would be forever marked by a scar, to remind you of that horrible day you are going through.

If only he could keep you by his side, he could guarantee that no one would ever touch you again.

***

"Have you ever taken stitches?" He asked, while taking some materials out of the first aid box. His voice was something comforting.

You shook your head, still holding the handkerchief over the wound on your forehead. Everything was happening so fast.

He separated a needle, thread and a whiskey on the table.

His hand reached yours, carefully moving the handkerchief from your forehead. The contrasting movement with the touch of his rough fingers, and the calloused hand.

"Let me see” he murmured, approaching your face, studying the wound.

You looked down.

"Okay, teach..."

"Don't call me that" you cut him off.

He walked away from you a little, to look at you.

Your eyes found his.

"Sorry" you looked down again "it's that..."

"All right, I got it" he pulled the chair closer to you, the inside of his legs touched your knees, he held your chin again "it's going to hurt, a lot, I have nothing to anesthetize, so I need you to be strong" He stared at you "do exactly what I say, can you do that?"

You nodded.

"Talk to me, I need you to talk to me, sweetheart"

You swallowed it dry. Looking at him.

"Yes"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I can do that"

He nodded to you, reaching for a glass, and serving a shot of whiskey, and delivering it to you.

"Drink it"

You obeyed, turning the shot. The liquid coming down hot, burning in your stomach.

He threw some of the same whiskey on another piece of fabric, looking at you.

"Ready?"

"Yes, I am"

He pressed the wet tissue with whiskey on the wound. The burning seemed to run all over your face. You frowned. Squeezing your fingers on your leg.

He took a pocket knife out of one of his jeans pockets, and gave it to you.

You held it. Doing things automatically.

"Now, I need you to talk to me, okay? Stay awake. If you are going to delete it, tell me first"

"Ok"

"Good" he reached the line and the needle "bites it" he raised your hand that held the pocket knife.

It was wrapped in a leather holster, made especially for the pocket knife. You frowned. Joel bowed his head with disapproval.

You put the holster between your teeth. Your breathing is getting a little faster.

“Three stitches, it’s what you need,” he said before getting closer, with a needle “ready”?

“Ready”

You don’t know how to say exactly what he was doing, but you felt the flesh being pierced, a colossal pain taking over your head. You stuck your teeth in the leather, with an afflicted growl, squeezing your fingers on the flesh of your leg. The eyes closing tight. It looked like you were going to explode.

"Don't move," he said with his face so close to you that you could feel his breathing on you.

You wanted to cry, scream. Tell him to stop, that it was all right if you ran out of a piece of your forehead. Just stop. It hurt too much. Tears were running from your face, but you couldn't tell if they were tears or sweat. Probably both.

"You're doing well, very well" he took a short break.

You felt his hands holding your left wrist.

"Give it to me" Joel brought your hand to his leg "I can handle it" he moved your other hand too.

You didn't even realize how much you were squeezing your own leg. But you received a slight relief.

Your breathing was trembling. He certainly continued, without warning, because once again the absurd pain of the flesh being pierced took over your senses. It was too much. You didn't spare Joel's leg, squeezing as much as you bit the pocket knife holster. Crying. Fighting against your own body so as not to move.

"Just one more" he said, "you're doing well"

There were no explanations or definitions for this moment. You simply had your whole body contracted, taken by the pain in such a way that nothing but the injury to your forehead existed in you. You couldn't even tell if you were breathing. The pain was so much that you could swear that your whole body was the wound. Your body started to tingle. Your senses were no longer responding.

You spit out the holster.

"Joel..."

You leaned on his leg.

"No, no, no..." he murmured "stay with me, you're doing well, stay with me, sweetheart, we're almost done"

You tried to focus on his voice. That beautiful and deep voice.

"You can do it, sweetheart, I know you can do it, just one more"

"Joel..."

Once again the pain radiated through your head.

You don't remember how, or when, it ended. But you woke up in a bed. Your head throbbing, your hands went up to press your eyes, in a useless hope of warding off that acute pain.

"Hey!" A whisper next to you, time you snap your eyes, jumping on an involuntary scare "calm down, easy, it's me, it's me" Joel's hands held your shoulders, gently.

Your eyes found his, tender and careful, you close your eyes and rest your head on the pillow again.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, releasing the grip on your shoulders.

"Pain"

He smiles.

"Yes, I know, here"

You open your eyes, he has two pills in the palm of his hand, extended in front of you. You frown, your eyes dance between the pills and his face.

"It's for pain, and to avoid infection. Take it"

You hesitate, but take it. Your fingers slipping the skin from the palm of his hand. You lean on your elbow, putting the pills in your mouth, Joel promptly gives you a glass of water.

There was a moment of silence, the day had not yet cleared up, it was night, probably at dawn. He didn't seem to have slept, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

"For what did you want the pills? That night?" He leans against the chair that was sitting, holding the empty glass you gave him back.

You look at him.

"Did you get it?"

He nods.

"Yeah"

You look away, staring at your impatient fingers that remove the cuticle chips from the corners of your nails.

"I don't have any cards here now for you..."

"What did you want them for?"

You look at him, swallowing it dry, hesitant.

"I..." you look away "I was going..."

You close your eyes, laying your head on the pillow again, shaking your head.

"Tell me" Joel leans in the chair, placing his arms on his knees.

You look at him for a moment, but you couldn't say that by looking at him. Your fingers press your eyes again.

"I was going to use them with him. I would dope him, and then kill him"

You take a while to open your eyes, after Joel's silence, you get curious, to know how he is looking at you now.

Joel didn't seem surprised by your idea, it didn't even seem to judge you. He seemed worried.

"Why? Is he bothering you?"

You nodded.

"How?" Joel clenched his fists.

You frowned. You grabbed your hands close to your face, and shrunk your legs. How if you shrink your body, as much as you could, would make you disappear, and next to you all this shame you felt.

"Tell me" he murmured softly, encouraging you.

"You don't have to bother..."

"I want to"

Joel extended his arm, so that his hands could move away a lock of hair that was on your face. So soft. So careful.

"Maxwell came transferred from some other QZ" you started "an acquaintance who works with me at school, introduced him and another friend, who is now her boyfriend" you felt stupid telling this story "since then he has been calling me out, but I always invent something..." you hesitated, holding your knees close to your chest "one day he cornered me in the classroom, there was a girl... a student who saw, I was afraid of him trying to do something with her, and since then he has been blackmailing me, and..."

You closed your eyes, shook your head, trying to move away from your mind.

"And?" Joel encouraged, he put one of his hands on your calf, trying to comfort you.

"He has been taking a good part of my cards, and I knew that would not be enough, that at some point this would happen... and I wanted to be prepared"

Joel nodded, his eyes fixed on you, the crease between his eyebrows deepened.

***

It didn't get into his head like another man could find himself entitled to attack you. Chase you.

He needed to have a lot of self-control to be able to hear your story until the end, without getting up from that chair and going directly to this Maxwell and hitting a bullet right in the middle of his eyes.

But no, dying is something easy. It ends easy. Living is difficult. And Joel would make sure that the last minutes of this man's life were the worst of his life.

You were right to think about killing him. Maxwell wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. And he wanted you. In all its innocence and fragility. Now, after Joel broke his face, he would certainly take revenge, hitting you, which was the easiest target, because, obviously, he was cowardly enough to blame you instead of solving things with Joel.

Joel wouldn't let you submit to this dirty work to win your peace again.

***

You sat down, Joel walked away a little giving you space. Your fingers pressed your face, while you got up, slowly.

"Where are you going?" Joel was right behind you.

You turned to him. Much taller than you.

"I need to go, I have classes to teach, and they can't be suspicious..."

He took a step in front of you, packing your face with one hand, while analyzing the bandage he had made.

"How are you going to explain that?"

His hot hand was so comforting, you fought against the urge to rest your head on his hand.

You shrugged.

"I fell"

He sighed. Deep.

"Thank you, for..." you pointed a finger at your head "I'm going to pay for the medicines and also..."

"If I were to charge you, you would have already paid"

You arched your eyebrows, and nodded to him.

Your morning passed with you having to explain how clumsy you were and ended up hitting your head when you slipped into your own apartment.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Ellie asked after class.

"No... I fell"

Ellie shook her head in disapproval.

"You need to report this son of a bitch"

"Ellie, I fell, okay? Everything is fine. And don't use this language in my classroom"

Ellie was disappointed in you, you knew.

"Pay attention to lesson number 2 when you go to do the activity, I'll see you next week" you said before she left the room.

You spent the day worried about the possibility of someone entering your classroom, to take you stuck or disappear with you after what happened yesterday.

To your surprise Denise entered your room near the end of the day. The eyes snaps, the face taken by a panic.

"Did you hear about it?" She asked as soon as she closed the door behind her.

You weren't good with lies. But you tried to set up your best face by surprise.

"No, what?"

She stopped in front of your desk.

"Maxwell" she said a little tired.

You arched your eyebrows. Okay, you knew, he was probably disfigured after last night's punches.

Denise frowned.

"What happened to you?" She pointed at your forehead.

You shook your head.

"I fell..."

She nodded, processing the information.

"Okay, then get ready" she said leaning over your table "Maxwell was found today in the late afternoon"

You arched your eyebrows.

"Dead" she concluded.

Now you didn't have to pretend surprise, because you were really surprised, the beating he took was serious, but not to the point of him dying.

"And there's more..." Denise continued.

You could feel the blood from your face being drained to anywhere other than your body.

"He was found with his cock cut off, and inside his own mouth"

You leaned against your chair. Your hands covering your mouth. Your eyes lost in nothing.

"Do they already know who did that?”

Would it be possible? Joel, would you have been able to do that? Did he do that?

"FEDRA is investigating, they won't leave it aside, kill a soldier like this?!"

“Maybe it could have been a firefly thing”

"No... Jared" - her boyfriend - "said this was premeditated, it was someone who really wanted Maxwell dead"

You were silent.

"Don't you know anything?" Denise was speculating.

You looked at Denise.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you were always together..."

"What?" Were you surprised by her assumption "together? We never even want to go out..."

"What did you want with that smuggler that night?"

You got up, gathering your things quickly, putting everything you could glimpse being important inside the bag.

"Sorry, I have to go" you murmured as you left the room.

"Wait!" Denise shouted "Jesus..."

You ran to your house, for no apparent reason, you just ran. Ignoring your throbbing head with every impact his feet made on the ground. You just wanted to be at home, in silence, to be able to process all things. If Denise, was wanting to link Maxwell's death to you - rightly so - what would FEDRA do?

As soon as you entered your apartment, you can't help but drag the shelf to the door. Even if Maxwell was dead. Supposedly.

You took a long shower, trying to wash away this whole crazy story. You wore a comfortable outfit. He made some tea. Trying to ignore the fact that his head was in latent flames.

Someone knocked on your door. Would it be Denise? She used to come without warning. Would it be Maxwell? Resurrected from the dead? Coming to torment you? The stunned soul coming to charge you for your murderous thoughts? Would it be FEDRA, to arrest you?

"It's me. Joel"

You stood still for a while. Looking at the closet in front of your door.

Until your brain remembers how to order the movements, and your legs move slowly, taking a break for you to leave your cup on the kitchen table, before dragging the cabinet from the door, and unlocking the braids from the door.

You opened the door. Joel was leaning on the side of the door. You faced each other for a moment.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

You blinked a few times. Opening the door more for him.

He came in, looking at the closet that he certainly heard you drag before you opened the door to him.

"You need to take another dose of the pills I gave you this morning" he watched your apartment "and you need to change the bandage"

You nodded to him.

He pointed to your chair, pulling one for him.

You sat down. Joel sat in front of you. You took your eyes on him today. He was a handsome man. The slightly gray hair, the eyes although almost always hard, were now attentive and careful.

He took off your bandage.

"You need to always keep it clean," he said, "it won't infect, it's good," he made an observation to himself.

He redid your bandage.

He took two pills from the pocket of his shirt.

"Take it, it's for pain and infections"

You took it, drinking immediately, with tea that was in your cup. Praying that the effect would be quick, and the pain would pass.

"Thank you," you murmured "for… everything"

He nodded. Looking at you.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked.

"Doing what?"

"Helping me... you defended me from Maxwell, then took me to your house, took care of my wound... why? These things don't seem to be things you usually do out there..."

Joel tilted his head to the side.

"What do I look like I'm doing over there?"

You smiled, looking away.

"I don't know” you shrugged “I thought you were someone bad, aggressive, I didn't expect to receive your help, in fact, you are very kind..."

"Only with you"

You look at each other for another moment, the silence hovering over you. You wanted to thank him, do something for him... You got up, going to one of your drawers, and removing a number of cards.

Joel shook his head before you even got to him.

"Take it, please..." you held it for him.

"I don't want to"

"Please, I don't know how to thank you"

He got up. Holding your hands together with your cards. His big hands, covering up yours. You observe the injuries of his hands. Your eyes meet his. Comfortably in silence. Joel looked at you deeply.

You expected him to say something, but contrary to that, he let go of your hand, kindly, walking towards the door.

"Joel?"

He turned to you.

"Yes"

"They found Maxwell's body this afternoon"

He nodded.

"FEDRA is investigating the cause of death"

He was silent.

You took a step towards him.

"Joel?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Was it you?" You looked at him carefully, you didn't want him to feel judged.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Joel seemed to feel pain when saying these words.

You walked to him, held his injured hands.

"No... I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of them"

Joel held your chin, smiled.

"Had the wound clean" he advises.

You nodded.

He turned around to leave. Stopping before, next to your closet.

"Sweetheart, you don't need it anymore," he pointed to the closet, "you're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll take care of you"

[briarmoon1015]

Have some headcanons of the league being genuine friends with Bruce to combat all the aus and headcanons that the league know nothing about him and his family :))

Barry and Bruce get along super well. Bruce and Barry often compare cases and love talking about detective stuff together. Both go to each other to geek out about cases, more so Barry than Bruce, but either way they enjoy it. They are also the most introverted on the team, so they often will have moments when they need a break and find the other doing the same thing. They both find a lot of comfort in silently being able to enjoy each other’s company. Dick and Wally get along so well because Bruce and Barry were always down to hang out with each other.

Hal and Bruce obviously don’t get along super great, but they respect each other massively. Bruce actually took advice from Hal about the Batplane, and has even let him fly it. Their birthdays are also a day apart, so the league often throws shared parties for them. They have a friendly competition to see who can make a better cake everytime. They both lose, of course, because neither are good at baking. Luckily Barry doesn’t seem to mind finishing them off for everyone else.

Diana is very close to Bruce as well, but out of everyone, is mostly likely to actually touch him without losing a finger. Diana has a habit of picking up the closest person when excited and swinging them around, and when Bruce happened to be said person, all the other leaguers nearly lost it. They are also each others favorite sparring partners, as they both feel as if they learn something new every time.

Clark and Bruce are clearly besties, but are super competitive with one another. They often compete to get each other better gifts, Clark’s being insanely thoughtful, and Bruce’s being insanely expensive, as well as trying to mess with the other while at work. Clark will help the daily planet write about how Batman fell off a roof during a league battle, Bruce will post on Twitter every time Clark makes a spelling mistake. It’s all in good fun, but the league totally takes advantage of it to get the two off their backs.

J’onn is also one of Bruce’s favorites. It took a while for Bruce to warm up to J’onn, mostly because the mind reading thing put him on edge, but as soon as Bruce saw the tactile advantage, he was all over it. J’onn loves exploring Earths culture, and often enjoys watching movies with Bruce, who is somewhat of a movie buff for the classics. Bruce’s tendency to over analysis them is very enduring for J’onn, as the constant chattering is informational, as well as remind him of the constant telepathy on Mars.

Oliver and Bruce have known each other the longest, as their families wealth has caused them to run into each other before they were heroes. They often like to tag up at undercover missions and during business deals, as the familiarity is quite nice, especially in such a secretive occupation. Being able to cancel a meeting because Scarecrow just decided to go gas downtown Gotham is much easier to explain when your business partner gets it. They also have a one sided competition, but it’s only on Oliver’s side. He ties hard to outclass Batman both as Queen Industry’s and as Green Arrow, but it never seems to work. However, Oliver is a surprisingly good sport about it.

Dinah is one of Bruce’s other favorite sparring partners. Her skill is similar to his, and fighting someone who also can’t lift up a bus is a nice change of pace from time to time. Dinah often tries to tell him gossip, of which Bruce always denies wanting to hear, but gives in quite quickly. Often times people chalk up Bruce knowing what’s going on as him being Batman, but he’s actually just getting the information from Canary, who is much better at reading social cues than him. He knows when he needs to outsource lol.