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scorpioaqua · 2 years

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bbrae week 2022 | day three | formal/ballroom

title: dancing in the dark rating: M/Mature word count: 5,410 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY: Of all the things not to do at your friends’ engagement party, Raven figured hooking up with your other friend in a broom closet was probably near the top of the list.

**IMPORTANT NOTE** - Today’s submission features mature content. Please do not click the read more if you are uncomfortable with sexual content. If you are okay with it being referenced but would prefer a lack of detail, you can stop reading where Gar says “I’m game” and resume reading where he says “So...how about that?” for a sort of fade-to-black effect.

The characters are, of course, aged-up.

It was becoming exceedingly difficult to catch him alone. Not that that had been Raven's plan for the night – her strategy, for the past six months at least, had been strictly avoidance. They were still friends, she thought. They were definitely still teammates. They got the job done and done well enough that – despite all his skeptical glances in their direction – Dick had never pulled them aside for mediation. She didn't hate Gar. And she knew from the pangs of embarrassment that rolled off him whenever she was near that he didn't hate her either.

But what did that count for? It was easy not to hate someone. Everything else was much cloudier.

Right now, she was watching him from a dark corner of the hotel ballroom Dick and Kori (or, rather, one Mr. Wayne) had rented for their engagement shower. In the years that followed what the Titans had reverently termed “the Terra situation,” Gar had thrown himself headlong into philanthropy. It was the only thing that gave his life meaning, by his own admission. The rest of the team had to make a pretty concerted effort to pretend that this pronouncement hadn't stung – wasn't the power of friendship good enough anymore? – but Raven saw through it. It was challenging to hide these sorts of things from an empath. He loved them all very much. He loved her–

But she couldn’t think about that now.

At the present moment his reputation for community service found him surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful women who were competing with one another for his attention. Azar, who were these people? If they'd scored an invite to a private soiree in honor of the Boy Wonder, they had to be personalities of some sort. Journalists? Artists? Models, probably. Raven suppressed a snort. Go figure; Gar attracted bombshells everywhere he turned.

She cringed at herself, her grip on her champagne flute tightening. Just because these women were confident and outgoing enough to flirt openly with the man she’d fumbled didn't mean they were worthy of her disdain.

It also didn't mean she had to like watching it.

The cocktail waitress swung by as if on cue, prompting Raven to pluck a new flute from the tray. She felt absurd doing it. She'd seen this sort of thing in films, but it felt comically out-of-place here in Jump City. This whole ordeal was ridiculously lavish.

"Cheers," she slurred to herself, "to glass number whatever."

It was probably a good time to admit to herself that she was getting drunk.

She scanned the room quickly: black-tiled floor and walls; a disco-ball right out of MTV's My Super Sweet Sixteen; not one open bar, but three, on top of the circulating cocktail servers; a live band that wasn't really encouraging anyone to dance but wasn't exactly keeping everyone glued to their seats, either; and, at the center of it all, Dick, his arm wrapped protectively around Kori's waist, her slinky pink dress glittering beneath the disco light, the two of them smiling into one another's faces as though nothing else mattered.

She felt a pang of affection for her friends and a stab of something else, too. She couldn't delve into that just yet. And, god, how was her glass already empty…?

Regretfully, she emerged from her dark corner and traversed the pulsing crowd in search of another drink. She found Vic, instead, crashing absentmindedly into his hulking metal form.

"Ow," she proclaimed, rubbing her forehead where it had collided with his robotic arm. "Watch where you're going, Tin Man." She scowled up at him, but a small smile tinged her features.

"I beg your pardon, Your Creepiness," Victor teased in return. He paused to take in the sight of her, hiccupping and stumbling, routinely adjusting the slipping neckline of the dress she hadn't cared enough to have tailored. Vic grinned. "My god, Rae, are you wasted?"

"Mind your business," she said flatly, edging past him into the crowd, trying to locate the nearest bar. "Not a good idea, Raven!" the cyborg called after her, and she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of Victor talking her down from ordering another drink. Garfield being the cool and collected one chatting up Nobel laureates (or something), while she was the hot mess on the brink of vomiting. Life was cruel. And hilarious.

But the sober part of her brain knew Vic was right, and by the time she reached the bar, she had somehow gained enough clarity to ask for "Just a water, please." As she gulped down one glass, then another, she challenged herself to keep her gaze trained on the bar-top, her fingernails, the floor – anywhere but in his direction. A bustling party certainly wasn't the ideal setting for meditation, but she'd do what she had to do.

The night waned around her. As guilty as she may have felt for not participating in the festivities more actively, she’d have felt even more guilty if she made a drunken spectacle of herself on Kori’s special night – so sobering up it was.

When she was sober enough to watch the strobe lights without reeling, she rose from the table and began searching the crowd. There. In his understated white button-down/grey trouser combo. Alone, somehow. Staring down at his cellphone in what he probably hoped was a preoccupied way but really just came off as bored and desperate. Had his adoring fans tired of him when they realized his primary interests were video games, comic books, and tofu-based recipes? No matter. He was wide open now. She was going in.

She sidled up to him as casually as she could manage, immediately cursing herself for not bringing a drink along, if only for decorative purposes. Her hands were painfully idle. She didn't know if he'd even noticed her arrival at first, but then he put his phone away and sighed.

"How is it only ten o’clock?" he mused aloud – not necessarily directed at her, but as good an opening as she was going to get.

"How indeed," she replied in what she hoped was as Raven-y a voice as possible. God, how effortlessly he disarmed her.

He glanced over at her then. He was smirking, but it was missing much of his usual mirth. Such were many of their interactions these days.

"What," he said, "you mean to tell me you haven't been having a good time tonight, Raven?"

Something about his expression told her he'd borne witness to her little bout of drunkenness. She flushed.

"If I resort to drinking to survive a function, you know it's especially bad," she said sourly. But neither of them mentioned the real reason she'd been drinking, the truth that hung between them like an electric current.

"Come on," Gar managed to say mildly, "be a good sport for Dick and Kori," but it was hollow; there was nothing behind it. Everything that was being said between them in this moment existed somewhere in the space between words. All at once, Raven felt dizzy again. She steeled herself.

"Garfield," she said, but it was barely a whisper. "Gar," she tried again. His name was so heavy in her mouth. She couldn't stomach it, she couldn't breathe–

"Raven?"

Garfield's hand on her shoulder, cool like stone. He was steadying her. She'd been swaying. She jolted back to life, took a step backward as though his touch would destroy her. It still might. She forced herself to meet his eyes, wide with concern.

"Can we talk?" she managed, hating how uncharacteristically desperate she sounded, hating how pivotal this moment was. She was metaphorically on her knees, and Gar was going to be the voice of reason, and she was disoriented by this role reversal; she felt as though her entire life had been swung on its axis.

Gar’s expression betrayed skepticism. "Rae,” he said quietly, "I…I don't know if now is really the best time. I mean, we're at our friends' engagement party. We should probably—"

"Please," she interrupted. "Just a talk. That's all I'm asking for."

He grimaced pensively, then shrugged. "Where?" he asked in surrender.

"The rooftop?" Raven suggested, then, thinking that might sound a bit too corny and romantic, "The sidewalk?"

But the rooftop was apparently off-limits, and the sidewalk was icy-slick and packed with people clamoring for an opportunity to speak with a Titan. As they hurriedly ducked back inside, Raven muttered, "You're too famous for your own good."

"I'm only as famous as the rest of you," Garfield replied.

"People like you better. They only know me as the demon-chick who almost caused the apocalypse."

He didn't respond to that, but she could sense his smile.

They made their way in silence down a long corridor, around a bend and then another, passing rooms with Do Not Disturb signs hanging on the knobs and piles of empty room-service trays. Raven was hoping they'd find a patio at the end, far away from the commotion of the party. She couldn't risk letting anyone else's emotions meddle with her mindset right now.

Gar cleared his throat. "Hey, uhh...Rae?"

She shot him a glance.

"I was just thinking, ah, we could've been...talking this whole time," he said, shrugging sheepishly.

Raven shook her head curtly. She needed to get him alone. She couldn't say what she needed to say unless they had privacy.

"Then...where–" Gar began.

Without thinking, Raven seized Gar's arm and phased through the closest door. When her portal disappeared, they were standing in a relatively spacious storage closet. It was filled with all the folding chairs and buffet tables that weren't currently in use for the Anders-Grayson affair. Azar, they're capable of hosting events bigger than a superhero engagement party? Remind me never to come here again.

Gar was staring at Raven somewhat warily. She levitated one of the folding chairs to the door, lodging the doorknob to prevent them from being interrupted, and waited for him to speak.

"Ooooo...kay," he said finally. "Raven, you're acting kind of weird. What's going on?"

She narrowed her eyes. "We're acting weird," she modified.

"Uh...what?"

She gestured vaguely between them. "We can hardly stand to be around one another anymore," she said, screwing her eyes closed against the sting of the words. "Ever since…"

He said nothing. Raven swallowed against the burgeoning lump in her throat but didn't reopen her eyes. "I was afraid, Gar. I'm still afraid, but I–”

"But you what?" he interrupted, his voice a hoarse whisper. There was a pregnant pause. Garfield snorted. "I gotta say, Raven, your timing really couldn't be worse."

"I know," she said. She dropped her hands to her sides, flexing them as though preparing for a fight – one she knew she couldn't win. Nonetheless, she looked at him pleadingly. "Do you think I don't know that?" She swallowed again. "I'm suffocating here tonight."

"I don't know what you want me to do about that," Garfield said bitterly. She hadn't heard this tone of voice from him in a long time. It was almost, almost comical that their roles were so subverted: here she was baring her heart to him, searching for any emotion besides anger and hurt behind his stony expression. But really it wasn’t funny at all.

"Hear me out," she said.

"I'm waiting." Garfield splayed his hands. Exasperated, he took a seat atop a nearby box. Raven suddenly felt something akin to stage fright. She took in a shuddering breath and began.

"Months ago, you came to me. You wanted to talk. We were close, then. Closer than we'd ever been before. Nearing inseparable. And then you told me–"

"I remember," Gar interjected. "I'm not as simple as you seem to think."

"I don't think you're simple," she replied earnestly. She gathered her thoughts. "I don't know what I was expecting that night on our walk, Gar. Anything but what I got."

"Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Yes, me too. I mean…" Raven's gut twisted in protest. "When you told me you loved me, I panicked. Not because I didn't already know it–" Gar's eyes flashed up at this, “but because I thought...maybe I'd read you wrong. Or...or that maybe you were mistaken about your feelings. That it'd pass. Or that...maybe you'd know better than to want to get involved with someone like me."

"We were already kind of involved, Rae," Gar retorted, but she could see his stony resolve slipping.

"Yes," Raven whispered. She remembered, against her will, those moments they toed the line: brushing hands, sharing food, divulging secrets. When she'd known he loved her, and at the same time, was sure it was a lie. When she, to sate her own curiosity, began giving away little pieces of herself to him. That night before the last night, when they’d wound up tangled up in her sheets, when she’d woken and he was still there, drooling on her pillow. When he finally looked her in the eyes and told her plainly, and the world came crashing down around her because she understood. She understood that she loved him too, that she'd pressed too far, and she couldn't set things right anymore.

At that time, she hadn't realized that right was wherever they were together.

Garfield regarded her semi-quizzically. "What are you getting at, Raven?"

Raven’s self-control had been commendable in recent years. She no longer disrupted her environment at the slightest annoyance. She could smile or laugh along at a joke without any lightbulbs bursting overhead. But, as the room began trembling around the two of them, it occurred to her that she was not — could not possibly have been – prepared for this moment.

She stared back at him through a film of tears. “What do you think I’m getting at?”

“I’m not an empath or a mind-reader, Rae,” Gar answered, but his voice was shaky, too, and the words were not as barbed as they might have been.

Raven maintained eye contact as she nodded. “You’re going to make me say it.”

“I think I’m owed that much,” Gar replied, rising from his seat.

“Yes,” Raven conceded. She wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, then steeled herself. Gar took a tentative step forward. Raven met his gaze. “I love you, Gar.” Her heart leapt into her throat; she pressed onward. “I do. I love you. And I have loved you for a very, very long time, and I am sorry that I could not be honest with you…or with myself, sooner.”

The trembling around them worsened. They both ignored it, Gar slowly closing the distance between them as Raven continued.

“I loved you when the world was ending,” she breathed. “I loved you when your heart was breaking. I loved you that stupid night and every night since and I love you…now. I love you right n–”

A few crates caved under the weight of Raven’s magic as Gar pressed his lips to hers, one hand on each side of her face. He broke away momentarily. “Don’t lie to me.” Another kiss. “Tell me you mean it, Rae. Please.”

“I mean it,” she swore. “I promise, I promise, I mean it.” Her tears were overflowing. Overhead, a dim lightbulb flickered threateningly.

“Shhhhhh,” Gar soothed as he shielded her head with one hand instinctively, “I believe you. Okay, okay.”

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded.

Gar pressed his forehead to hers, smiling slightly. “Can you handle it?” he asked.

“If you love me too and everything is okay then yes, yes I can handle it,” Raven said in a matter-of-fact tone, some of her usual resolve returning to her voice. As if to prove it, she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, waiting until the clattering objects had settled around them before she exhaled. “See? I’m in control.”

“Yes, love,” Gar answered, stroking her cheek with one thumb. Without waiting for her reply, he dipped his head down again, kissing her tenderly at first, then with more urgency. Raven felt herself melting, stifling a moan as Gar moved to kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jawline, then her neck.

“Let’s go find a room,” she whispered. “They can’t be using all of them.”

Gar froze, pulling back to look at her. “A room?”

“Yes,” Raven said, suddenly self-conscious. “I just thought…I mean, I…want you.”

Gar chuckled huskily. “Raven, baby, I want you, too. Believe me,” he assured her, clasping her waist tightly. “It just doesn’t seem appropriate. Tonight’s about Dick and Kori, remember? Plus, your emotions are high right now. I don’t want you to rush into anything–”

“I’ve waited six months,” Raven interrupted, pulling him closer to her. “There’s nothing rushed about it.”

Gar hesitated. “I don’t know, Rae,” he demurred. “It still doesn’t seem fair. It’s an engagement party.”

“Thanks, I got that the first couple of times,” Raven said sarcastically, and for a moment they were their old selves again – she rolling her hooded violet eyes, he grinning that sharp-toothed grin in response. “And this is Dick and Kori we’re talking about. They’re probably sneaking out to feel each other up in the backseat of a car as we speak.”

Gar’s brows lifted in appraisal. “You make a fine point,” he said. “But in that scenario, they’ve got a car. There’s not really an inconspicuous way for two superheroes like ourselves to book a hotel room on a night like tonight.”

Raven’s brow furrowed. “Damn.”

Gar chuckled again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, beautiful,” he whispered to her. “When I get you home tonight, we’ll have all the time in the–”

“No.” Raven’s fingers found his belt buckle, and Gar’s eyes widened slightly.

“What do you mean, no?” he replied, but he made no move to remove her hand.

“I mean I can’t wait that long,” she said. She began undoing the belt as she spoke, feeling his desire wash over her in waves. “So either you can take me right here…” Gar moaned under his breath. “...and we can go back out there when we’re finished and be the Boy Scouts you think we should be. Or,” she finished undoing his belt and discarded it in a wash of black energy, “we can go home, right now, so you can fuck me on your bed like you so clearly want to, and we’ll forever be known as the two assholes who ditched their friends’ entire engagement shower to go have sex.”

When Gar had recovered enough to speak, he said, “You drive a hard bargain, Raven.” He reached out gently, then quickly pressed her up against the nearest wall. “I’m game,” he breathed before their lips connected and he hoisted her up to straddle him.

Raven dug her nails into Gar’s shoulders as their tongues met. His own hands were helping him to hold her up by her thighs, one gradually creeping up to fondle her ass. He began kneading the soft skin there, prompting Raven’s hips to buck involuntarily. As he broke away to devote his attention to the pale expanse of her throat, Raven bit her lip and tried her damndest to keep up her side of the bargain; another exploding piece of furniture or light fixture might feasibly ruin the moment.

Gar wasn’t making her job easy, though. The kisses he peppered her neck and collarbone with soon became fervent, and she yelped as he took her skin between his teeth, biting down gently.

“Yes,” she said, and it was more than an affirmation – it was a plea.

Gar grunted in response, reaching up to paw at the straps of Raven’s little black dress. She was braless, and as the dress slid down to reveal her pretty pale breasts, Gar could scarcely suppress his wonder. He laid his free hand gently on her waist and pressed his groin into hers to prevent her from sliding down the wall, then leaned forward to capture her rosebud nipple in his mouth. Raven moaned, twisting the fingers of one hand into his mess of tousled green hair as he teased her with his tongue. Gar shifted his attention to her other breast, relishing in Raven’s little noises of approval.

Then, abruptly, he dropped to his knees, resting Raven’s thighs on his shoulders and cupping her ass with both hands; she remained propped in the air, her back flush against the wall. Gar tore her underwear away with his teeth, a bit animalistically (though, to his credit, they were flimsy to begin with). “Oh,” Raven said softly as she felt his lips nearing her.

His eyes, heavy-lidded with desire, flicked upward to meet her gaze. “Problem?” he teased.

“No,” Raven managed, but the truth was that – even the last time (the only time) they had hooked up – they hadn’t done this. She didn’t trust herself not to fall apart in the process. Gar raised his brows, and she could tell he was smirking even though his mouth was partially obscured. “I’ve never done this,” she admitted. “I really want it.”

“I should’ve done it last time,” Gar said, sounding sincerely apologetic. Then, without further warning, he reached out and pressed his tongue flat against her, dragging it slowly, tantalizingly upwards. When he reached her clit, he used the point of his tongue to circle it, and she nearly choked on the gasp trying to escape her throat. “Mmm,” Gar moaned against her, and he began passionately kissing her there, his tongue and lips enveloping her in warmth.

“Fuck!” she shouted, and instead of warning her to quiet down (which he probably should have done), Gar picked up his speed, sucking gently on her clit and licking her wildly in alternation. “God, Gar. God, Gar,” Raven panted, one hand bracing herself against the wall while the other tightened in his hair. His tongue began a rapid back-and-forth over her clit, and she hissed through her teeth as she began tapping the top of his head urgently. “Stop, you have to stop, I’m already close.”

Gar only laughed, the vibrations causing her eyes to roll back into her head. “I mean it,” she begged him. “I can’t finish now. I want you to – god! – I want you to fuck me. I want–”

“Let go,” he told her in a low tone. “I’ll still fuck you after. I’ll fuck you until you shake all over.”

Raven bit her lip to keep from crying out as Gar resumed his work in earnest. She felt several of the tables and chairs around them being enveloped by her magic, but that was, frankly, the least of her concerns. Using one hand to maintain her position, she clamped the other over her mouth, moaning freely into it as Gar’s tongue worked her ever closer to the edge.

Gar shifted down slightly, never breaking contact, then slid his tongue inside her, reaching up to tease her clit with his fingers. Raven writhed beneath him, feeling his tongue thrust in and out of her, and all she could think about was how badly she wanted him. Raven stifled a scream as Gar brought her to her first orgasm of the night, and the tables that had been struggling against her magic finally surrendered and clattered to the ground. Neither of them flinched.

“So,” Gar said finally, releasing Raven with a self-satisfied grin, “how about that?”

Her feet were back on solid ground, but her legs were nearly too shaky to support her. “Yes,” she said weakly, one hand still on the wall to help stabilize herself.

Gar laughed, reaching out to touch her, but Raven stepped away. “No,” she said firmly.

“No?” Gar repeated, his tone colored by confusion.

“We made a mess, Garfield,” Raven said, a bit sullenly. For the first time, they turned to survey the damage – a few busted crates, a slew of toppled tables and chairs – and Gar shrugged.

“So we’ll clean it up like good citizens when we’re done,” he said, sliding a hand down to grip her thigh. “I’m not through with y–”

“They’re already coming to investigate the noise,” Raven cut him off, crossing her arms. “I can sense them. So it looks like part two will have to be postponed.” At the onset of Gar’s pout, Raven held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t give me that, Gar. I asked you to and you didn’t, so now you have to wait.”

Gar pulled back, his eyes wide but lit with humor. “So now your explodey powers are all my fault?”

“Well, they usually are,” Raven muttered.

Gar ignored this, reminding her, “You said you could handle it.” As he said this, he leaned forward to kiss her softly.

“I said I could handle…the usual,” she said after they broke away. “Not…whatever that was.”

“Are you saying you didn’t like it?” Gar challenged. “Because I think the evidence begs to differ.”

“Of course I liked it, you idi–”

They were interrupted by a metallic clank at the door. “Raven? You in there?” a voice called.

“It’s Vic,” Raven said, then, “Shit. Hotel staff I could’ve handled. Vic’s going to be much harder to lie to.”

“Let me handle Cy,” Gar said, making for the door, but Raven caught him by the elbow.

“Um…”

“What?” Gar demanded.

Raven shot him an exasperated look. “Your face smells like sex,” she said plainly. “You can’t just walk up to Cyborg and give a convincing excuse that way.” Victor knocked again. “Morph into something tiny and run to the nearest bathroom when I open the door,” Raven instructed Gar. Obligingly, he shifted into a fly and hovered near her in anticipation.

As she approached the door, Raven adjusted her crumpled dress, replacing the straps and quickly running her fingers through her hair to create what she hoped was a convincing, totally-not-bedhead sort of arrangement. When she opened the door, Vic’s back was to her, and Gar took the opening to escape down the corridor.

“Vic?” Raven said, and her teammate turned to face her, wearing a puzzled expression.

“Oh, Rae, there you are,” he said, peering behind her into the storage closet. “Uh…I don’t wanna pry, but is everything okay?”

Raven closed the door behind her, stepping out into the hallway. So much for her and Gar’s solemn vow to pick up after themselves. “Um…yes,” Raven said in reply to Vic. She knew she was probably flushed, and averted her gaze in embarrassment as she continued. “Why?”

“The front desk staff heard a loud crash from down here and when they came to check it out they saw…you know, all your creepy crawly dark magic seeping out from under the door,” Vic explained as gently as he could. “I told them I’d handle it. Just wanted to make sure you were good.”

Raven winced slightly. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing,” she managed finally. “Yes, I…I’m okay. Just a little…overwhelmed tonight.” She looked up at Victor. “And the alcohol didn’t help, I guess.”

Vic looked over his shoulder, then said in a conspiratorial tone, “This wouldn’t happen to be about BB, would it?”

Raven blanched but tried to maintain her composure. “Why would it be about Beast Boy?” she asked unconvincingly. She could feel the heat rising in her face and knew Victor could detect it, too. He wore a reluctantly smug expression.

“Uh huh,” he said. “I knew it.”

“You knew what?” Raven demanded. She desperately hoped she and Gar hadn’t been that obvious about it. Hell, when she’d pulled him aside to talk, it wasn’t even like her intentions had been sexual. She hadn’t even been sure he’d be receptive to her apology. Although, two people sneaking away from a collectively buzzed party into a hotel corridor wasn’t the most innocent-looking thing in the world to an outside observer…

“Y’all have been torn up about this for months,” Vic said, dragging her back to the present. “I mean, you’ve kept your guard up really well, I’ll give you that – and I only had BB’s side of the story, so I could only speculate about you…but I knew something was up.”

Raven paused. “Wait,” she said, “‘BB’s side of the story?’”

Vic had the decency to blush. “Well, yeah,” he said, “you know, the whole, ‘I confessed my undying love to Rae and she’s barely spoken to me since’ thing.” He offered a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but he was really devastated and that’s my best friend, you know? I gave him a shoulder to cry on, and I didn’t mean to pry beyond that, but I just thought…” He shrugged. “I’ve been watching you two. Not in a creepy way. Just…I’ve noticed you sneaking glances at one another. I’ve noticed how you never sit next to each other in the car or at the dinner table and you don’t even argue about it like you used to. It’s like y’all have a silent agreement to avoid each other.” He looked at her knowingly. “To push it down.”

Raven remained silent, then sighed, burying her face in her hands. “And here I thought I was aloof and mysterious,” she mumbled.

Vic chuckled, pulling her into a brotherly hug. “You mostly are,” he assured her. “If it hadn’t been for Gar spilling his own beans, I might never have put two and two together.”

Raven pulled back, looking up at Vic helplessly. “I love him,” she said. She’d already established as much with Gar directly, but it helped to say it out loud to someone else, someone who didn’t turn her to jelly when they looked at her.

Vic was nodding sagely. “I know, Rae,” he murmured. “And the cool part is he loves you right back.”

“It is cool,” she agreed quietly. “But…” She shook her head rapidly as if to clear her thoughts. “Am I bad for him?”

“You could never be bad for him,” Vic said, resting a large hand on her shoulder. “He takes you as you are, Rae. All of you. Even the complicated, demony parts.” They shared a small smile at this. “Just do the same for him. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Raven smiled again. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded.

“So you’ll tell him how you feel?” Vic asked with childlike excitement. He looked about two seconds away from jumping for joy. Raven almost didn’t have the heart to break it to him.

“About that,” she said gingerly. Vic’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What if I told you that…I already have?” She shrunk back as though it would lessen the impact of her words.

Vic took a moment to process this. His gaze shifted back and forth between Raven and the closet behind her a couple times, and then, finally, landed on the blooming bruise nestled into the crook of her collarbone. “Oh, come on, Raven. Really?!”

Raven blushed once more. “Shut up Vic,” she muttered, trying to step around him.

“All this time I thought I was helping you deal with your twisty emotions, when you were actually just–”

“What’s going on, guys?” came a voice from the end of the hall. Vic and Raven turned to see Gar rounding the corner, looking as fresh as he had at the start of the evening.

“What’s going on,” Vic boomed as Gar drew closer, “is that I just found out y’all were canoodling in this storage closet–”

“Vic, keep it down!” Raven pleaded at the same time as Gar offered a sheepish, “Heh, so you heard about that, huh?”

Raven heaved an exasperated sigh. “I hadn’t admitted to anything,” she said sharply to Gar, “although I guess that’s what I get for keeping you around.”

Gar gazed adoringly at her, extending a hand. “Let’s get back to the party, shall we, angel?” He turned to Vic. “You coming, Big Guy?”

“Am I–” Vic floundered, gesturing wildly around him. “Are we just not gonna talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Gar called over his shoulder as he led Raven down the hall. “There is such a thing as TMI, you know, Vic.”

Vic sighed as Gar and Raven rounded the corner hand-in-hand, but couldn’t resist the affectionate smile that overcame him. Then, just as quickly, he was frowning again. “I…am going to soundproof both of their rooms,” he announced to no one in particular. “Yes, yes,” he affirmed as he made a beeline for the nearest bar.

#dw they are both SOBER at the time of action~#bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #rachel roth #teen titans

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bbraeweek22 · 2 years

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Just around the bend

10 days until BBRaeweek 2022 officially starts!

Let’s show our favourite chromatically coloured lovers how much we love em by finishing up all our fics and art pieces for the week.

We can’t wait to see all the art and all the fanfics that will come out of this amazing annual celebration.

Mod team for BBRaeweek2022

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dramalovesromance · 2 years

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Nature vs. Nurture

Thanks for the reviews and favorites! As a sign of gratitude here is a second chapter to Nature vs Nurture. It is on fanfiction.net!

#bbrae #bbraeweek22 #beastboy #raven #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae fanfiction #fanfiction

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one-fandom-became-all-fandoms · 1 year

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2022 Events

DONE events and WIPs:

A Very Sterek Winter 2022

Sterek Valentine Week 2022

A Very Sterek Spring Exchange 2022

Fandom Trumps Hate 2022

Sterek Big Bang 2022

Sterek Reverse Bang 2022

Sterek Reverse Quickie 2022

Teen Wolf Podfic Fest 2022 (Round 2)

Hale-o-ween 2022

Teen Wolf Holiday Fest 2022

Warm and Fluffy Bingo 2022

Bad Things Happen Bingo 2022

Daniel TW Meme

It’s been an eventful year, to say the least.

Planned for 2023:

Sterek My Sweet/Bloody Valentine 2023

Sterek Valentine Week 2023

Fandom Trumps Hate 2023

Sterek Big Bang 2023

Sterek Reverse Bang 2023

Sterek Reverse Quickie 2023

BBRae Week 2023

Who I Fell For (Round 1)

Tag Games

#avsw2022 #svw2022 #avsse2022 #fth2022 #sbb2022 #strb2022 #strq2022 #twpf2022 #hale-o-ween2022 #wnfb #bthb #daniel tw meme #fth2023 #bbraeweek2022 #svw2023 #sbb2023 #srb2023 #srq2023 #who i fell for round 1

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scorpioaqua · 2 years

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bbrae week 2022 | day two | nighttime/movie nights

title: bewitched rating: T/Teen and Up word count: 2,563 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY: “But one day, it was like a flip had switched, and suddenly Raven was all too aware of the heat of Gar's body next to hers, the rise and fall of his chest during lulls in the plot, his increasing involuntary movement during climactic scenes, and…something else, every time there was an onscreen kiss.”

It was, Raven insisted, a mutual decision reached by her and Kori. She would never – not on her life – have suggested a romance film for team movie night if she was staking her own aloof-girl-persona on it, so it was undoubtedly nice to have her bubbly, hopeless-romantic best friend to fall back on. Plus, Raven defended herself adeptly to the boys, it was a film based on one of the finest pieces of literature ever written, and if they paid attention throughout the whole thing, they might even learn a thing or two.

“Are there any fight scenes?” Beast Boy wanted to know, sinking down into the couch as though he were being subjected to the cruelest form of torture known to man.

“Define fight scenes,” Raven said drily, checking to see if her tea was fully steeped.

“Blood and guts?” the changeling said hopefully, waggling his brows at the empath seated next to him.

Raven shot him a dark look. “No,” she replied simply. Beast Boy groaned.

“Ra-ven,” he complained, “how do you expect me to get through this entire chick flick without any violence?”

“I didn’t say there wouldn’t be violence,” Raven said, rising from her seat to deposit her teabag in the nearest trash can. She felt more than saw his interest pique at this, and couldn’t resist smirking as she delivered the fatal blow. “I mean, on-screen violence, no. Actual violence if you don’t shut up and sit still during the film…probably.”

Gar scowled. “Not cool, Rae.”

Satisfied with herself, Raven carried her mug back over to the couch with her, and the rest of the team came filing in behind her, laden with the gratuitous snacks the occasion necessitated. Against the background chatter of Starfire convincing Robin that mustard was a suitable alternative to butter in popcorn and Cyborg loudly demanding full custody of the Twizzlers, she resumed her spot next to Beast Boy, despite the sullen air that had fallen over him. She sighed as she settled in.

“Look, there’s at least…verbal sparring,” she said to him in a conciliatory manner.

His confusion, she saw, somehow deepened.

“Banter?” she clarified, quirking a brow pointedly.

“Like arguing?” Gar pressed, and she nodded. Gar huffed. “Don’t I get enough of that from you in real life anyway?”

“For the record,” Raven said with a small grimace, “that was me extending an olive branch — and you're a jerk.”

Gar seemed to consider this for a moment. “Aw, I’m sorry, Rae,” he said finally. “You know this just isn't my scene.”

“And B-list, made-for-TV sci-fi movies are not mine, and yet,” Raven quipped, but there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“I know you secretly like watching them alien guts explode everywhere,” Gar teased, and Raven was about to remind him that if real-life exposure was the metric, she’d probably had enough of alien guts, too, when Kori commanded the attention of the room with a loud clap.

“Friends!” the Tamaranean cried, a joyful smile plastered on her face. “It is now time to commence the viewing of the film chosen by Raven and I as an act of female bonding.”

“Azar,” Raven muttered into the brim of her mug, trying to ignore Gar’s shit-eating grin.

“Raven and I have partaken of this film experience on many occasions upon the evenings of our bonding rituals,” Kori went on explaining.

“Sleepovers,” Raven clarified to the room of puzzled faces.

“Many occasions, huh?” Gar whispered. Raven chose not to respond.

“It is the tale of the passion! The secrecy! The treachery!” Starfire was proclaiming at the head of the room. She lowered her voice. “It is the story of the pride,” she paused to seek Raven’s approval, “and the prejudice.” Raven gave a terse nod and Kori squealed, immediately finding her seat beside Robin. “Please, friend Cyborg, allow the film viewing to commence!”

Cyborg uttered a syllable of disbelief around a mouthful of Twizzlers. He swallowed as he began configuring the TV, muttering, “I don’t know why y’all act like you don’t know how to press a button.” Raven and Gar exchanged conspiratorial smirks as Vic loaded the movie. “Rae?” Vic called to her, and the empath telekinetically lowered the lights.

As curtain rose on Elizabeth Bennet’s leisurely morning stroll, Raven found herself grateful for the “no-talking” rule the Titans had instituted for team movie nights. The team had quickly discovered that they were all equally opinionated when it came to the fine art of cinema — though some, Raven had to admit, had more sophisticated critiques than others — and after putting their heads together, Raven and Robin had jointly decided that interrupting a film viewing with an ill-timed quip would be punishable by dish duty for a month. No one wanted that (especially after Starfire had used the kitchen), so they all did their best to abide by the code. But expecting Beast Boy and Cyborg to remain silent for any extended period of time — especially where action movies were concerned — was perhaps a bit too idealistic, so the rule was quickly modified to allow for one (1) outburst per Titan per film, and they must formally request the film to be paused first. More often than not they independently concluded that their contribution was not worth stopping the entire film, and thank Azar for that.

All this to say that Raven was currently putting up a silent prayer that Gar would not use his one time-out to offer commentary on Pride and Prejudice. She didn’t know why (she was honestly kind of afraid to peer too closely), but in recent weeks, she’d found enduring romance films and sex scenes while seated next to him particularly excruciating. She was hardly squeamish about that sort of thing, although she was also woefully inexperienced, to be sure. But one day, it was like a flip had switched, and suddenly she was all too aware of the heat of his body next to hers, the rise and fall of his chest during lulls in the plot, his increasing involuntary movement during climactic scenes, and…something else, every time there was an onscreen kiss.

When it had come time for Raven and Kori to choose a movie, she had agreed with Kori’s suggestion perhaps a bit too quickly. What better way to test her own tolerance than in a controlled environment like watching a movie she had seen a million times over and could recite front to back?

She was, naturally, regretting that now.

She steeled herself when Bingley and his entourage entered the ballroom, but quickly relaxed as she remembered that Gar was probably bored out of his mind and therefore very unlikely to pick up on any kind of romantic tension between Darcy and Lizzy. She tried very hard not to monitor his facial expressions out of the corner of her eye, and mostly succeeded. When Lizzy arrived at Netherfield in her muddy skirts, and Darcy rose as if panicked from his seat, she couldn’t help but notice a faint blip of emotion from Gar.

She put her hood up.

To an outside observer, a casual viewer, someone who was acquainted with the world of Jane Austen but by no means a fanatic, it may have seemed that Raven had more time. Darcy’s proclamation of love to Elizabeth was some ways off, and their only onscreen kiss was quite literally at the end of the film. Ostensibly, then, there was nothing to worry about now. Just relax and use this time to prepare for the real drama later on, right?

Wrong.

Everyone who knew anything knew that the most electrifying part of Pride and Prejudice (2005) was the hand-flex. The hand-flex, whereby the dashing but aloof Fitzwilliam Darcy could find no other way to react to touching the bare hand of the strong-willed Miss Elizabeth Bennet than by flexing his hand as if to ascertain his own existence, was delivered to the audience only twenty-five minutes into the film…via close-up. There was no way to ignore it. And so Raven could only hope that Gar (indeed, all of the male Titans) would simply have no idea how romantic it was.

Raven was also acutely aware that her own hand was resting flat on the sofa cushion, mere inches away from Gar’s. One pesky twitch of a finger could land her skin clearly on his own (of course he had to be ungloved tonight). She knew that she should rest her hands in her lap, tuck herself inside of her cloak, and evade perception for the evening. But her right hand was feeling rebellious, apparently.

As the scene in question approached, all the muscles in Raven’s body were decidedly mutinous, yearning to be in motion. No — to be nearer to him. She gritted her teeth. Where was this coming from, anyway? He was just a boy. A stupid boy. And this was just a movie. And she did not want to hold his hand.

The sound of Gar clearing his throat sent a noticeable jolt through Raven. He shot her a questioning look, which she dutifully ignored.

Raven kept her eyes somewhere beyond the screen as Darcy helped Elizabeth into her carriage, but she couldn’t miss the moment their hands met, their clandestine glances. She couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to touch his hand that way, something so small yet meaningful. Maybe that was what drew Raven to these stories. She was ever-cautious. She couldn’t risk a lapse in her control. But Azar, she was lonely. She craved touch. She didn’t need a kiss or a long-lasting embrace. She could be sated with something as unassuming as this — the brush of a hand.

The brush of his hand.

Which, she was realizing, was really real. She wasn’t imagining it. She looked down to find his pinky twining gently with hers, and nearly gasped from the shock.

She didn’t pull her hand away because she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to. His touch was warm, comforting, and yet undeniably disconcerting. She was grateful for the shelter of her hood. She didn’t dare meet his eye.

Raven kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, her emotions tumulting inside of her. What was happening? She couldn’t be doing this. He couldn’t be doing this. And who had initiated it? Surely him. But why? Was he teasing her? She suppressed a swell of indignation at the thought. He wouldn’t dare. But then why?

As these thoughts were consuming her, Gar’s hand was creeping over, abandoning its light caress of her pinky finger in favor of locking hands completely. Raven blanched, every nerve in her body in overdrive. She stared at their coupled hands in disbelief, watching his thumb traipse lazily over her skin as though it were familiar territory. She shuddered, and so did the far window, threatening to shatter. Her gaze flickered over to Gar’s, whose eyes were widening with concern. Abruptly, she removed her hand, rising from her seat.

“Pause,” she said loudly, almost a plea. Her other teammates looked on in confusion, but Cyborg obliged, pausing the film. “I’m…not feeling well,” she proclaimed, her eyes flashing to Beast Boy for half a second. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie. He had completely disrupted her emotional homeostasis. “I think I’m going to call it a night. You guys have fun, though.”

“Okay Raven,” Dick said, apparently unconcerned. “Feel better.” Starfire nuzzled more tightly against him, obviously eager to resume the movie, and Vic offered her a pitying smile as she swept away before hitting play again. So they were fine, everyone was fine — except for maybe Gar, whose eyes she refused to meet again.

In the hall outside her room, she let out a shaky breath. Raven considered herself something of a wordsmith, and was proud to be able to express most sentiments sans profanity, but—

“What the fuck,” she wondered aloud, contracting her affected hand involuntarily. If this was a joke, it was a cruel one, and she had never known Beast Boy’s sense of humor to involve intentional cruelty. But nothing else made sense. Why her? Why tonight? And why did it make her feel so…so…

“Raven?”

She froze, identifying Gar’s presence behind her.

“What?” she demanded, her tone perhaps not as icy as she would have liked.

She heard him scuff his feet. “Are you…okay?” he asked. “I mean, are you…did I…make you uncomfortable?”

She still hadn’t moved, so he took the initiative, overtaking her and then planting his feet right in front of her. She looked up, arms wrapped around her torso, and saw genuine concern in his expression.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she told him honestly. His mouth ticked upwards in an apologetic grimace.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “sorry, Rae. I should’ve…I mean, you deserved a heads-up for something like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what came over me, Raven. I’m sorry.”

Raven nodded, lowering her hood to offer him a gentle smile. “It’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t not…like it.”

Gar brightened, a grin spreading across his face. “Wait, really?”

Raven blushed. “Really,” she admitted, biting her lip to hinder her growing smile.

“Cool,” Gar said eloquently. He cleared his throat, wringing his hands together awkwardly. “So, maybe when you’re feeling…better, you know…you and I could finish the movie together? Like, just the two of us?”

Raven raised an eyebrow, examining the changeling with scrutiny. “You want to finish Pride and Prejudice?”

Gar shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, sure, yeah,” he said. “It’s something I know you like. Plus, it’s not half bad from what I can see.” He paused for a moment, apparently considering something. “You know what I think is interesting about it? They don’t like each other at first, you know? They really don’t get along. Because they’re closed off and stubborn and have all these preset ideas about one another. But then,” he braved a step closer, but wisely resisted the urge to take her hand again, “they overcame all that, because they found out there was more to each other than met the eye.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and she found breathing a bit difficult. “I like stories like that,” he said softly.

Raven swallowed, resting one hand gingerly on his upper arm. “Of course,” she whispered. “I would love to finish the movie with you, Garfield.” Their faces were very close now — too close for Raven to manage in her current state — so she stepped back, making for her bedroom door. “Now I’m going to bed,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“‘Course, Rae,” Gar called, his voice brimming with happiness. “Night!”

As Raven was preparing to cross the threshold into her bedroom, something occurred to her. She stopped, turning to face Gar’s retreating form. “Beast Boy?” she called after him.

He turned, his face aglow and hopeful. “Yeah, Rae?”

Raven crossed her arms, steadying herself against her doorframe. “If you’ve never seen the movie before, how do you know how it ends?”

Gar blanched, a few bleating chuckles escaping from him. “Ah…eh heh, lucky guess?” he tried, inflection rising. Raven gave him a self-satisfied smirk, and he quickly turned to conceal his reddening face. “LaterRavenseeyouinthemorning!” he blurted as he rounded the corner.

Raven sighed, making her way into her bedroom at last. “Well,” she muttered, “guess I can’t meditate myself out of this one.”

#bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #hopefully the tags work for me this time lol #bbrae #teen titans #raven #beast boy #garfield logan #rachel roth

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scorpioaqua · 2 years

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bbrae week 2022 | day one | meet the family/vacation/holidays

title: the very first night rating: T/Teen and Up word count: 2,644 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY: “She was pretty all the time, of course, but something about Raven – dark, broody Raven – in a sleeveless black dress on a waterfront patio, her hair fluttering in the ocean breeze, her nose a tiny bit red from a day in the sun…” BBRae fluff. My contribution for BBRae Week 2022 Day 1: Vacation.

Everything in this restaurant was sticky: the laminated menus, the tabletops, the unattended children running laps around the perimeter. Gar was used to sticky – but only like, his own brand. It wasn’t rare, for instance, for him to discover that he’d fallen asleep mid-movie and spilled soda all over his belongings, but at least he could identify soda as the culprit. He was by no means a germaphobe, but shit, didn’t people have standards?

Or maybe he was being unfair. Maybe all of his favorite local joints in Jump City were equally as crowded and unsanitary as this place, the difference being that those places smelled like his favorite foods, and this place smelled undeniably, unequivocally, and very pungently of fried fish.

“We’re at the beach,” Dick said with a blank stare when Beast Boy complained. “Seafood is kind of the bread and butter around here.”

“No,” Gar replied, “bread and butter is bread and butter. This–” He paused to compose himself as a server drifted by with a heaping tray of raw oysters, then continued, “This is an assault on my senses.”

“Your everyday odor is an assault on most people’s senses,” came Raven’s voice from Gar’s right. The quip was flat and half-hearted, like most of Raven’s quips these days; she more or less delivered them out of a sense of obligation rather than any real desire to torment him. They had become better friends in recent years, but why mess with tradition? Gar ignored her and began grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, struggling against the urge to vomit. “But you’re right,” Raven surprised him by continuing. He looked up to see her eyeing the menu with distaste. “Everything here looks like it would end in me being confined to the bathroom all night.”

“TMI,” Gar said simply, his own contribution to tradition.

“But how may we solve this conundrum?” Kori asked with a frown, her face set in characteristically adorable consternation. “We have already been seated and I would not like the Jeff to think we are the rude by leaving.” Over Starfire’s shoulder, Gar could see their gangly teenage server – the “Jeff” in question – struggling with an ice bucket.

“God, no. We can’t risk hurting Jeff’s feelings.” Gar prodded idly at the lemon wedge in his water.

Kori nodded solemnly. “I am so glad you agree, Friend Beast Boy.”

Raven gave him a soft jab in the side with her elbow. In his peripheral vision, he saw the warning in her expression. He tried to school his growing smile, but honestly, her touch still sent a thrill through him. He hated that.

“And I’ve been craving these fritters since we planned this trip, so if you wanna leave, you’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming,” Cyborg announced. He looked comically out of place on the small wooden bench where he sat, but his tone told Beast Boy he wasn’t messing around.

“No need,” Gar said in a conciliatory tone, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’ll suffer in silence.” Then he waited for Raven to comment on what a blessing his silence would be, but she didn’t. Instead, she surprised him again.

“Why don’t Beast Boy and I just find somewhere else to eat?” she suggested, removing her napkin from her lap.

Gar gaped at her. “What?”

“Raven, are you sure?” Dick asked, frowning.

The empath shrugged. “We’re the only ones who don’t like it here. It wouldn’t be fair to uproot the rest of you on our behalf.”

“But Friend Raven, is not the vacation a particularly special time for bonding activities amongst friends?” Starfire protested.

“Yes,” Raven answered, “but we’re staying in the same rental and we’ve got a week left on this trip. We’ll have plenty of time to bond.” Gar couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she looked in civilian clothes. She was pretty all the time, of course, but something about Raven – dark, broody Raven – in a sleeveless black dress on a waterfront patio, her hair fluttering in the ocean breeze, her nose a tiny bit red from a day in the sun–

He had been so immersed in these musings that he failed to notice the question Raven had directed at him until she jostled his shoulder.

“Hello?” she demanded. “Yes or no?”

“What?” he repeated dumbly. Raven rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to find someplace else to eat with me or not?” she asked, her cheeks coloring slightly. Gar glanced over at Nightwing, who gave a permissive nod. It was perhaps silly, now that he was in his early twenties, to still seek approval from his leader, but getting Dick to consider a vacation at all – ever – had been hard enough, and he didn’t want to step on his toes and rule out the possibility of future trips.

“Um. Sure,” Gar said to Raven, who was already rising from her seat.

“Come on then,” she said, making her way to the exit.

Gar stumbled a little getting up, then offered an apologetic glance to his remaining teammates. “Sorry. Guess we’ll see you all later.”

When he caught up with Raven, he shoved his hands into his pockets casually and matched her stride. “In a hurry?” he asked playfully.

“I thought I was doing you a favor,” she replied, her tone bitter. She paused on the sidewalk to orient herself, then added, “If you don’t want to join me, no one’s making you. You’re the one who looked like he was about to hurl chunks in there.”

Gar grimaced. “I was,” he admitted. “You’re a hero, Rae. Like, my hero, not just a superhero.” He grinned at her. She didn’t smile back, but at least she wasn’t glaring.

“Where to?” she inquired.

“Uhhhh…” Gar dug his cellphone out of his back pocket. “Hold, please.” He opened up Google and typed vegetarian restaurants near me (albeit with several typos). The results were dismal, but he tried not to feel discouraged. “Says there’s a Mediterranean place with vegetarian options a few streets over,” he said, turning the phone to show Raven.

“That’s fine,” she agreed. She had just started to levitate when Gar interrupted.

“Whoa whoa, what’re you doing?” he asked.

Raven quirked an eyebrow. “Flying?” she replied.

“I thought we could walk,” Gar said casually.

“It’s like fifteen minutes by foot,” Raven said skeptically.

“But we’re on vacation!” Gar insisted, tipping his head toward the beach sprawling in front of them. “We should at least try to enjoy the view, right?”

Raven narrowed her eyes. “We were at the beach all day. We live by a beach. You’ve seen the ocean so many times. You’ve been a whale.”

Gar waved dismissively. “Yeah, but that’s, like, our ocean, y’know? The west coast. This is Florida.” He gestured grandly at the stragglers on the beach, packing their belongings up against the backdrop of the setting sun. A few feet away, a group of fraternity brothers stopped to allow one of their rank to vomit profusely in a flowerbed.

“Not really helping your case,” Raven replied, but she floated back down to the ground nonetheless. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”

Gar breathed a sigh of relief. If Raven noticed, she didn’t comment on it. As far as he was concerned, one-on-one time with Raven was rare but precious. One should count themselves lucky if she deigned to spend her free time with them. At least that was his philosophy, because something about having Raven’s undivided attention made him feel like he’d struck gold (file under “things to investigate further at a later time”).

They walked most of the way in companionable silence, occasionally pointing out stores they thought Starfire might like to visit, but at a certain point their route took them inland, away from the shore, and without the dull noise of the ocean to fill their silences, their conversation grew more substantive.

“Okay, I got one,” Gar said, holding up a completely full can of White Claw they’d found abandoned on the sidewalk. He cleared his throat. “Florida Man Arrested for Taking Two Sips of Every White Claw at the Store Before Replacing Them on Shelf.” He waggled his eyebrows, awaiting her judgment. “Eh? What do you think?”

Raven wrinkled her nose. Fucking cute, Gar thought before he could stop himself. Even though he hadn’t said it aloud, he cleared his throat on instinct, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly. Raven must have assumed he was just getting antsy for her reply.

“A bit wordy for a headline,” Raven offered finally. “Most of those sordid details go in the body of the article.” She paused. “Plus, should you be touching that?”

Gar tossed the can into the nearest trash bin. “Good point,” he conceded. “Aw, it’s no fair, Raven. You’re better at this game because you read so much.”

“Yeah, usually not ‘Florida Man’ articles, though,” Raven said drily. They were moving again, the facade of the restaurant awaiting them at the next street corner.

“Well, I was never gonna win after you saw that used condom on the ground,” Gar said. “That one was just low-hanging fruit and you know it.”

“I was appealing to my target audience,” Raven returned with a shrug, eliciting a squeak of indignation from Gar.

“I do not find crudity funny, thank you very much!” he cried theatrically, and this patently false proclamation earned a smile from both of them.

“This is the place, I think,” Raven said, gesturing to the sign. “Shall we?”

“About damn time,” Gar muttered against his growling stomach. He reached out to hold the door open for his teammate, who was scowling up at him.

“You’re the one who wanted to walk h–”

“Enough,” he interrupted, corralling her inside.

The place was apparently a “seat-yourself-and-we’ll-maybe-get-to-you-at-the-next-commercial-break” sort of establishment, which was all well and good for Gar since generally he found those spots served the best food. He and Raven settled into a corner booth. Throughout his years working and living with Raven, Gar had come to learn that Raven preferred these tucked-away settings in all venues – a larger-scale projection, he supposed, of the way she routinely shielded herself with her cloak’s hood. He was no psychologist. He did, however, consider himself sort of a small-time expert on the intricacies of Raven.

Which was a completely platonic and definitely not weird thing to feel about a friend.

In any case, he figured the real, practical reason Raven liked these corner booths was that they enabled her to evade the prying eyes of the general public, and he couldn’t say he blamed her on that count. The Titans had grown used to being a spectacle; it sort of came with the territory in their line of work. Still, a lanky green guy and purple-haired demon were bound to attract attention, especially in a place where the clientele was disproportionately nosy tourists, and they had a right to relax on vacation.

It finally occurred to Gar that he could just ask Raven about her restaurant seating preferences instead of pondering them internally, but by that point she was already opening her mouth to say something.

“Sorry, go ahead,” he said.

“I was just going to say that the falafel pita sounds good,” Raven said, pointing across the way. Unlike the last restaurant, this place had its menu written on the wall in colorful chalk, but at least Gar didn’t have to interact with another booklet coated in mystery residue.

“It does,” Gar said, “and it’s probably my best bet unless I just want tabbouleh salad or a side of hummus. You’ve got way more options than me. Whatcha gonna get? A chicken kebab, perhaps?”

Raven looked over at him as though he’d said something incredibly stupid, then turned back to the menu. “I’m not going to order meat in front of you.”

Gar furrowed his brow. “Why not? You guys eat meat in front of me all the time.”

“We’re on vacation,” Raven replied, imitating his earlier cadence, and he laughed. “You looked so pitiful back at that tourist trap with the fishy smell. I just figured maybe you’d want a break from all that stimuli.”

Gar’s hand flew to his heart, his eyes widening dramatically. “Raven, are you…being considerate towards me?”

“Consider this a trial run,” she answered, resting her chin on her folded fist. “If you behave well enough, I might upgrade you to the next tier package.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, a disgruntled looking man in a stained white t-shirt with a dish rag slung over his shoulder approached to take their orders. Raven graciously ordered vegetarian menu items for herself, and Gar decided to return the favor by sticking to water and not ordering a beer. He had the rest of the night to throw back cold ones poolside with Vic, so Raven could enjoy the company of one-hundred-percent-sober Gar for now.

As they ate, they recounted with relish the way Dick’s face had darkened when Kori had presented him with the Gulf of Mexico as a potential vacation spot – the way, a week later, his mouth was a thin line as he informed the team that they would be taking a team-building retreat to this touristy beach town. (What sort of team-building activities would they be doing, Gar had wanted to know? Classified, Dick had answered. Could you please declassify whether or not we will be allowed to slam mojitos at a beachfront dive bar, Gar had pressed.)

As they paid their bill (“My treat,” Gar insisted), the changeling steepled his fingers and eyed his friend seriously. “So,” he began, “how am I doing?”

“What?” Raven asked, sucking down the last of her water.

“The trial run,” Gar clarified, feeling stupid for even bringing it up again. “You said–well, you know, how’s it going? Am I gonna get that upgrade?”

Raven considered him for a moment, her head tilted to the side. “Remains to be seen,” she said finally. Gar deflated. She rose from her seat and glanced at him conspiratorially. “But your progress is satisfactory.”

He beamed, his elation momentarily gluing him to the booth. “Oh all right!” he whooped, stumbling to catch up with Raven for the second time that night. “Hey, Rae,” he said as he sidled up to her on the sidewalk, “listen..” He tugged at his clothing self-consciously.

“Yes?” Raven murmured, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Gar swallowed. “Well, we’ve got like a week left here, and between Cy and Star, dinner’s probably always going to be somewhere yuck, and I mean…I just thought…” He stopped on the sidewalk, looking at Raven pleadingly. “Maybe we should grab dinner together every night?”

Raven drew back as if offended, and Gar winced. “In Florida!” he clarified. “Just while we’re here, this week, in Florida. Not like, always. Not forever.” He smacked his own forehead in chagrin. “Oh my god, shut up, you stupid–”

He was caught off guard by the sound of Raven’s light chuckle. He peeked at her through his fingers, much too embarrassed to reveal himself fully.

“That sounds nice, Beast Boy,” she said kindly. Her arms were wrapped around her torso protectively, so he knew it probably took a lot for her to make this concession.

Gar dropped his hands to his sides. “Oh. Cool.” He smiled, and they began their walk back to their rental guided only by the glow emanating from the streetlights. Then something occurred to him. “Wait, what sounds nice? The just Florida part, or…?”

Raven threw him a withering glance over her shoulder.

“Shutting up,” he muttered. In his pocket, his fingers found the receipt from their dinner, the one he’d tuck into a drawer when they got home to hopefully be rediscovered someday, and he would know it represented the first of many.

#bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae week #bbrae #beast boy #raven #teen titans #my writing #garfield logan #rachel roth

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scorpioaqua · 2 years

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bbrae week 2022 | day five | evil au/historical au/au

title: greensleeves rating: T/Teen and Up word count: 4,183 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY: "No. Not a monster. I see a man before me now. We may be mere strangers, Garfield Logan, but I've met many a monster – many an irredeemable blot on creation – and you are not one."

She was up with the sun, just as she was every morning, and it was the subtle tremor of the clayware on her breakfast table that alerted her to the presence of a stranger. She tensed, watching the freshly-made tea slosh in its cup, and pulled her dressing gown more tightly about her body. She approached the window with caution, having half a mind to snuff out the candle she’d lit to brighten up her small cottage just so that the stranger would go away. But rent was due, and if there was any chance at all that this visitor was a patron – well, she was in no position to refuse.

The hoofbeats of the stranger’s horse drew nearer. She peered through the crack in her shutters silently and appraised her unexpected guest. A man of some means, she presumed, based on the emerald cloak he wore slung around his shoulders. He had a crop of sandy hair (unusual, for the fashion was for men to keep their hair long and tied back, though she supposed she shouldn’t scrutinize, wearing her hair in an unfashionable bob herself) and from what she could see of his skin, his body seemed fairly tanned. His horse gave a shrill whinny as he eased into a halt right outside of her garden gate. She exhaled through her teeth. No use pretending she wasn’t awake now.

“Hullo?” the young man called as he alighted from his horse. Muttering to herself, the witch known as Raven slung her veil over her head, hoping her dressing gown was passably modest for receiving strange men in the small hours of the morning. Her line of work drew enough attention; she hardly needed to give the biddies in the neighboring village anything else to speculate about.

“One moment, my lord,” she called through the window as she slid into her slippers, not pausing to wonder if perhaps this man was not a lord at all. When she wrenched the door open, the man was waiting politely, his hands resting idly at his sides, his leather riding gloves having been removed. A richly-colored cloak and fine leather gloves, Raven mused. If this man was as wealthy as he appeared, her rent could be paid by his patronage alone. She bowed her head demurely, as these sorts of men expected of women like herself, and waited for him to speak.

“Miss,” he said softly by way of greeting. “I am looking for the village wise woman. Do you know her?”

She looked up and found that his inquisitive gaze was as green as his garb. The color was almost shocking. She tore her eyes away as she responded to him. “That would be me, sir.”

The man gave an utterance of surprise. “You?” he asked, regarding her with nothing short of disbelief. “But you are so…” He broke off there, seemingly unable to complete his thought.

“Young?” she supplied. She’d heard it many times before. People expected wise women to be cronelike, matronly. Raven of Azarath was nothing of the sort. She was just shy of twenty-one years, with a shock of dark hair so black it may as well have been blue, and despite her daily digging in the garden, her body was not sore and achy but strong and able. She’d built her reputation in this town from the ground up despite all the scrutiny and general distrust that came along with her age…and her lineage.

“I was going to say beautiful,” the man said with a devilish gleam in his eye, “but young works just as well.” A smirk appeared on his lips, and Raven felt her demeanor cool significantly. It was all the same with these young lords; their sexual appetites were insatiable, and they made it everyone else’s problem. Raven adjusted her veil pointedly and stared back at the swaggering casanova before her.

“Was there some wisdom you sought, Lord…?”

The man cleared his throat. “Logan,” he said, thoroughly chastised. “Garfield Logan. You needn’t call me Lord. Gar is all right,” he said, not unkindly.

Raven shifted, watching him quizzically. “All right,” she agreed. “Gar.”

He brightened at the sound of his name on her lips. His smile, she regretted to admit, was dazzling. “And you are…?”

Raven resisted the urge to grit her teeth. The sooner she could see this transaction along, the better. “I think you know who I am, sir,” she told him. “I think someone sent you here specifically, and I doubt they’d have done so without telling you my name.”

Gar seemed genuinely confused. “I beg your pardon, miss,” he said sincerely. “I was told only that a wise woman lived in a cottage on the Blackfriar Road, and that she might have the answers I seek. I was given no name.”

“I see,” Raven replied. He seemed to be telling the truth, as puzzling as it was. “You are…a traveler, then?”

“Yes,” Gar confirmed. “I am quite a ways from home, miss. So please, you must forgive me the sin of not knowing your name. I assure you, should I learn it now, I shall never forget it.”

Raven found herself reddening slightly under the intensity of his gaze. Exactly what you need, you stupid girl. To fall prone to the charms of some self-important rich boy. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, Gar looking on patiently.

“Raven,” she told him finally, offering him a small, reserved smile. “My name is Raven. Please, how may I help you, Gar?”

Gar had the grace to look sheepish. “Miss Raven, I must apologize for taking up so much of your time,” he said, tugging lightly at his shirt collar. “I am looking for a tonic for a most…unusual malady. I know such a tonic exists, but would you believe it? I can only remember some of the ingredients.” He paused here to chuckle good-naturedly. “I had hoped your wisdom might fill in the gaps for me.”

Raven considered him for a moment. “What sort of a malady?”

Gar cast a wary glance over his shoulder. “Erm…”

Raven followed his gaze, her breath quickening involuntarily as she demanded, in a low voice, “Are you being followed?”

“No! No, miss,” he assured her, hands laid out in a placating gesture. Nevertheless, his voice was a whisper when he asked, “Miss Raven, how intimately acquainted are you with curses?”

Raven blinked, watching Gar’s features scramble into a mask of worry. Then, she stepped back to open the door, signaling for Gar to follow. “You’d best come inside,” she told him. He obliged, hurriedly tying his horse’s reins to the fence post before scurrying into the cottage like a man with death hot on his trail. Reassuring, thought Raven.

“Please, sit,” Raven instructed him once inside. He gingerly pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and sat, his hands folded in his lap. So calm for a man who may not have long left to live. Raven shook her head again, then went over to the cupboard to begin rummaging through her supplies. “What is your curse?”

“Sakutia,” Gar said bitterly, watching her examine the contents of first one vial, then another. “Do you know it?”

“Not by name,” Raven admitted. “What does it do?”

“When I was a child, I was on a hunt with my father when I was attacked – bitten – by a beast,” Gar said, his voice wavering slightly. “My parents searched the land high and low for someone who could save me. I was their only son.” Raven paused her search for her mortar and pestle to offer him a sympathetic glance.

“They finally decided to try it themselves,” Gar went on. “They used ancient knowledge. Forbidden knowledge. But look – it worked.” He held up one hand and wriggled his fingers. “Here I am. Alive.”

“But?”

“But.” Gar sighed. “But the antidote made me part beast. It was the only way to fight the illness.” He locked eyes with the witch, delivering the next lines slowly. “And if I don’t take a counteracting tonic every day, I grow closer and closer to succumbing to my second nature.”

“A shapeshifter?” Raven breathed, knuckles whitening.

“I have heard it called many things,” Gar replied. He ran a hand down the length of his face. “In any case – a monster.”

“No,” Raven said firmly, turning fully away from the cupboard to face him. “Not a monster. I see a man before me now. We may be mere strangers, Garfield Logan, but I’ve met many a monster – many an irredeemable blot on creation – and you are not one.”

The smile he gave her was plagued with fatigue. “Yet the day is young.”

“That it is,” Raven agreed. “We have plenty of time to try and sort this. If you know you must have your tonic daily, why is it you find yourself without?”

“You may think me a fool,” Gar began hesitantly, “but I am not so great a fool that I set out on a journey without the tonic. I had more than enough. A few nights ago, though, I was overtaken on the road. The tonic was stolen from me, and the men who took it were so well disguised that I could not even begin to track them down.”

Raven furrowed her brow. “Highwaymen?” she said, puzzled. “But they left you with your finery.” And a pretty penny to pay this bill, she thought hopefully.

Gar was already shaking his head. “These were no regular highwaymen,” he said. “They knew me. They knew what I was.”

“But how do you–?”

“They called me changeling,” Gar interrupted, his bright eyes darkening at the sound of the word. “They rummaged through all my belongings and kept only the tonic. They threatened to return me to Stev–to my father.”

“Your father is a cruel man?” she asked, her lips pursed. “But he saved you. He broke many laws to find the magic that would save your life.”

“That was my real father,” Gar explained, sounding exhausted. “Steven is…he and his wife found me. I am their so–their ward.” He turned to stare at the cracked window. “It’s a long story. And you’re a busy woman, I take it.”

Raven sat down across from him, laying out an assortment of dried herbs on the table. “We have time,” she told him. “If you want to share,” she added. She gestured to the herbs in front of them. “But first, do any of these look familiar?”

____

The good news was that Gar was able to identify far more of the ingredients of the tonic than Raven had dared to hope. The bad news was that she would have to experiment with likely concoctions to find the right mix, and some of the known ingredients were in small supply. Raven scribbled possible combinations in her journal as Gar – at her behest – regaled her with the story of his upbringing. It had been a ploy to distract him – there was scarcely a more troublesome thing than a client who couldn’t stop wringing their hands long enough to let her think – but she found that the story of Gar’s life was too interesting to allow her to focus properly on her work.

“And so I wasn’t leaving forever,” Gar was saying, as though he needed to absolve himself to her. “Steve can be overbearing at times. A bit tough on me. I simply needed some time to…to clear my head. To find myself.”

“But instead you found trouble,” Raven murmured thoughtfully.

“And that trouble led me to the homestead of a beautiful magus, so perhaps it isn’t all bad,” Gar said with a cloying smile. Raven cleared her throat and shifted in her seat at this. Perhaps this hadn’t been wise of her. She didn’t find Gar threatening in the least – and besides, even if he did try anything, she had plants in her cupboard that could take down a person thrice his size in two seconds flat – but she hoped she hadn’t given him the wrong idea by inviting him inside.

Gar seemed to pick up on her anxiety. He leaned back in his own chair, creating more distance between them. “And what about you?” he asked. “I’ve passed…what, an hour in your house by now? And you could write a book about me and I know scarcely anything about you!”

Raven couldn’t resist the smile that burgeoned on her lips. “I wouldn’t write a book about you,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“If I do the gentlemanly thing and pretend not to be wounded by that, will you try and be a little less mysterious?” Gar teased, drinking up the last of the now-cold tea Raven had poured him.

Raven regarded him for a moment, then laid down her quill and began stretching her fingers. “All right,” she agreed quietly. “It may be time for a break anyway.”

“Quite. You’ve been working yourself to the bone over this.” Gar eyed her ink-stained hands with mild concern. His own fingers twitched, as if they thought to reach out and envelop hers.

“I would do the same for any paying customer,” Raven said quickly. Best to put any thoughts of camaraderie out of his mind. Then what are you doing divulging information to him? her inner voice hissed. Quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, she met Gar’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Gar said enthusiastically, leaning forward like an eager schoolboy.

Raven gave a slight grimace. “That’s not a very good place to start.”

“Well,” Gar hummed, “where are you from?”

Raven nodded as if she had expected the question. “I’m from here. Or at least my mother was.”

“Was?”

“She’s dead now,” Raven revealed, fussing over the frayed edge of one of her journal pages.

“Ah,” Gar said softly. She didn’t have to look up to know his eyes were the picture of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, me too,” Raven said.

Gar cleared his throat. “And your father?”

“He’s alive,” Raven said darkly. “But he’s not a good man.”

“Well, we both know about that, then,” Gar replied conspiratorially.

“No,” Raven said, “my father isn’t like your father. He isn’t just…stubborn, or impulsive, or reckless. He’s…evil.” She swallowed thickly, hardly daring to look Gar in the face. “And everyone here knows it.”

Gar tilted his head. “I see,” he said in a measured tone.

“His name is Trigon,” she told him, though he hadn’t pressed. “He is a statesman, and he is known throughout the kingdom as a very violent man. He holds human life in such low regard.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the trepidation in the faces of the villagers when she first arrived in town. “And I am known as Trigon’s daughter. The daughter of pure evil. He sponsors my activities here – for the most part. I am expected to pay my own tenancy and make my own way, but at least he allows me some semblance of freedom instead of keeping me locked away somewhere.”

Gar narrowed his eyes. “And what does he get in return?”

Raven smiled humorlessly. “He thinks I am working on creating a poison. A disease with no cure, which can wipe out entire populations if need be.”

“Can such a thing exist?” Gar wondered.

Raven shrugged, her shoulders limp. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I would never want to play a role in creating something like that. But I fear that if I don’t do this for him eventually, someone else will, and I’ll…I’ll have done nothing to stop it.”

“Your hesitation says enough,” Gar said firmly. “Refusing to cooperate with his plans is your own way of fighting back.”

“Yes, I hope so,” Raven said, sounding unconvinced.

Gar lifted one of the vials from the table, holding it up to the dimly filtered light to examine it. “How is it that you came to know so much about healing and magic?” he asked her. “I can’t imagine this father of yours had any interest in nurturing your talents.”

“I was raised in a convent, actually,” Raven answered, instinctively reaching out to receive the vial from his hands. She tried not to tremble when his fingers brushed hers in passing. “At Azarath.”

Gar nodded solemnly. “I know the one.”

Raven quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

Gar grinned. “No,” he admitted. “Forgive me. I’ve always been a bit of a jester.”

“Your wit is unrivaled,” Raven said drily, but there was a tinge of humor in her tone. “When my mother died, the Azarathians interceded and took custody of me. No one likes Trigon, but the Azarathians least of all. They are a peace-loving people. And they knew that if I was left in Trigon’s care, he would taint me before I even had a chance to learn otherwise.” She exhaled sharply. “They raised me in the convent, and Trigon sent men after me a few times, but I suppose eventually he just resigned himself to waiting. While I lived in the convent he didn’t have to pay to keep me alive, and he knew he could come reclaim me as his rightful daughter eventually. I lived in fear of that day.”

Gar was frowning. “I’m sorry to hear you weren’t given a true childhood.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Raven said softly. Her veil had slipped, and she gingerly moved away some of the hair that had fallen into her face. “I had time to run and play. I learned to read and write, which is more than can be said for many girls in this kingdom. I loved being outdoors and I learned to garden and forage, and how to make food and medicine from even the roughest materials. Most importantly, I suppose, I learned about goodness at the convent. I learned how to control the unbridled rage I had inherited from my father. There was always the weight of knowing I would someday fall back under his power, but at the very least, I learned I was capable of something better.” She found Gar’s gaze. “I intend to do as much good as I can before he breaks me.”

“Who’s to say you’ll be broken at all?” Gar asked in a gentle tone. “I’ve only known you for a short while, Miss Raven, but you seem very strong-willed to me.”

“You’re very kind, sir, but it’s in my blood,” Raven said, her voice hard. She strained against a growing lump in her throat. “I was always destined to follow in my father’s footsteps. It’s the only reason I was born. I have brothers, too – they are Trigon’s true heirs. But he needed more than just an heir. What he needed more than anything was a pawn, someone entirely expendable to help him push his plans along.” She realized she’d been absently crushing a dried flower in her palm and released it abruptly, watching its withered remains fall to the table. “And that is me. That is what I will become.”

“And what if you ran?” Gar said in a quiet voice.

Raven fixed him with a stare, laughing bitterly. “He would find me,” she explained as though he were a simple child. “He would hunt me down and drag me back. Probably torture me. The end.”

Gar winced at her brusqueness, but pressed on anyway. “You could escape,” he insisted. “If you made a solid plan – if you played your cards right – you could have a different life. All you would need would be provisions and a few well-placed allies.”

“Allies?” Raven echoed, amused despite herself. She leaned back in her chair to examine her guest, arms folded across her torso. “And where does one find those? You’ve heard me say I am the daughter of evil incarnate. To be sure, the village people tolerate me, so long as I know my place and stay in it. But to sanction me? To help me rebel?” She snorted. “So I ask you – who would have me?”

“I know someone,” Gar said, a glint of hope in his too-green eyes.

Raven scowled, straightening in her seat. “If you think you are the first overgrown boy to waltz into my cottage assuming that entry to my home means entry to my bed, you are sorely mistaken, my lord,” she spat at him.

But Gar was already fending the words off with a frantic gesture, his expression incredulous. “You mistake me, miss!” he cried in earnest. “Here!”

Gar reached into his doublet, retrieving an intricately folded piece of parchment and unbinding it on the table for Raven to view. Warily, she leaned forward, taking the paper between her fingers. On it was a crudely drawn sketch of a trio – two men and a woman. Raven’s eyes narrowed as she studied it.

“That’s Princess Koriand’r,” she said, indicating the tall, curly-haired woman at the center of the page. The princess from the faraway kingdom of Tamaran had been the talk of the town even in Raven’s remote village when she was sold by her own sister into slavery. Raven wasn't aware she'd been freed.

Gar nodded. “That’s right,” he said. He pointed to the dark-haired man in a mask beside the princess. “And this man calls himself Nightwing. No one knows his true identity, though many suspect he hails from Gotham.” He slid his finger to the other side of the page, indicating a dark-skinned man missing an arm and a leg, apparently wearing some sort of wooden device to supplement each. “And this,” Gar said slowly, leaning closer to her, “is Victor Stone. The most talented inventor the world has yet known. I met him last season at the market in Lamumba.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Raven asked, sliding the paper back across the table to him.

Gar held the paper up, tapping it with one finger for effect. “This is your way out.”

Raven cocked her head to the side, unconvinced. “A poorly conceived drawing of a group of mysterious figures?”

Now it was Gar’s turn to scowl. “I did my best,” he muttered. “This is why I was leaving home, you see? I was going to find them.” He lowered the paper, looking at her searchingly. “They were going to be my escape. They could be yours, too.”

Raven shook her head, suddenly overcome by fatigue. “I am expected to take travel advice from a man who got himself ransacked?” she said wearily.

“A minor bump in the road,” came Gar’s reply. “Miss Raven, these people – they all come from notable families; or, they were in the employ of notable families. And do you know what they are doing now?” When she did not answer, he continued, “They are heroes. Vigilantes. They have turned their backs on extravagant wealth to advocate for the poorest of the poor. They champion the rights of misfits. They can offer us protection.”

“Why would they protect me?” Raven said. “I’m just a village witch. Hardly a princess or a renowned inventor or…whatever that masked one does.”

“You said it yourself,” Gar said with a shrug. “Your father is a powerful man. And a wicked one.”

“And that is supposed to recommend me to them?”

“That is supposed to show that you are different,” Gar urged, pressing his palms flat into the table. “You are an agent of change, just like the rest of them. Your father is wealthy and evil and you – you wish to be good. You are good.” Boldly, he took her hand. “Come, Raven,” he said breathlessly. “I know we are perfect strangers, but I cannot bear to leave you here knowing what a wretched fate awaits you.”

Raven withdrew her hand from his grasp, turning to survey her small cottage, the simple shelter of everything she owned. Her eyes landed on her straw mattress, beneath which she knew sat a satchel of coins, separate from her regular income, which she continually amassed and hoarded though she scarcely knew why.

Well go, child, the voice of her childhood caretaker seemed to entreat her. What have you got to lose?

Raven sat for a moment, watching the wax drip from the candle on her windowsill, and considered. She thought of the life she'd been given, the one she'd been told to expect. She thought of all the deaths she could die, all the places she could take her last breath.

And she decided that perhaps one path was more promising than the rest.

We can leave in the morning,” she told Gar, taking up her quill. “I shall need the rest of today to finish formulating your tonic.”

And this joyful stranger — this person whom she’d nearly turned away that same morning — there he sat beaming at her as though she had painted the heavens by hand, practically radiating his relief.

“The tonic…is more a cloak for my abnormalities than a cure,” he admitted to her, glancing back down at the drawing between them. “And who is to say? Perhaps I shall not need it where we are going.”

#ok so this is like #moreso a medieval FANTASY au than an actual HISTORICAL au #but yknow.#bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #rachel roth #teen titans

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dramalovesromance · 2 years

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Happy BBRae week! Check out my other work for BBRae if you liked this one!

Title: Nature vs Nurture

Summary: Raven is a demon. Can you blame her?

Rated: T for language and sexual suggestion

Prompt: Evil AU

#bbraeweek2022 #bbrae #bbraeweek22 #bbrae fanfiction #beastboy #raven #evil

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scorpioaqua · 2 years

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bbrae week 2022 | day four | breaking up/making up/secrets

title: crash rating: T/Teen and Up word count: 2,729 ao3 | ffn

SUMMARY: "'You ruined my date,' Raven barks at him, defeat gradually overtaking her anger. 'A date,' Gar murmurs thoughtfully, then shrugs. 'I didn't know it was a date.'"

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Raven’s date says to her, looking down at his burger with disdain. She lifts her gaze at this, perhaps a bit too hopefully. Dating is not her scene. She’s tried it a few times, even getting as far as the fifth date with one contender, but in the end they all left her disinterested. Noah, the charmingly nerdy literature student she bumped into at the bookstore, is – unfortunately – no exception. While the date started off well enough, with the two of them perusing a local art gallery and discussing their latest reads, Raven hasn’t felt any notable chemistry. Any chance of him echoing her sentiments and cutting the date short is a win in her book. But then he prods at the burger bun and glances over at her with amusement, and she realizes that he’s only talking about the food. She hides her deflation with a well-placed polite smile.

“No, you know what they say about nondescript diner beef,” Raven says, examining her own order: a coffee and a simple side of french fries. “It’s the best. World-renowned.”

“Whose world?” her date quips, and she can’t help a genuine smile at that one. It’s not that Noah is a bad guy. He’s perfectly adequate. And nice. Too nice, even. Too human. Too normal.

He’d absolutely cave the first time he saw her soul-self or a stray demon, and, taking chances as she is – learning to love and baring her soul and all that crap – Raven doesn’t have time for the weak. If she’s doing this, she needs someone who can handle her. All of her. Someone who is more intimately acquainted with dark magic, or at least with superheroes. Someone who can take her outbursts in stride and read her body language to know when she needs time alone. Someone more like–

“Shit.” Raven’s eyes widen slightly as she takes in the green face smiling back at her from the diner’s front window.

Noah follows her gaze. “What?” he asks.

Standing on the sidewalk, using one hand to unsuccessfully shield himself from the rainfall, is Beast Boy. He’s waving, waiting for Raven to return the gesture. Confusion painting her features, Raven raises one hand and obliges.

“That’s my teammate. On the Titans,” Raven begins explaining to Noah. “He’s–”

“Beast Boy,” Noah finishes, and Raven turns to see him nodding knowingly. When she quirks an eyebrow, he blushes faintly. “I, uh…I didn’t want to sound like a superfan when I asked you out or anything, but I know a fair amount about the team.”

“Oh?” Raven says. “Then you know he’s kind of a pain in the ass. Excuse m–”

But as she turns to assess the situation, she sees that Beast Boy isn’t on the sidewalk anymore. He’s made his way to the front door of the diner, and as he pokes his head through the door, the bell hanging overhead announces his arrival with a soft Ding!

Raven sighs. “Dammit.”

“Sit anywhere you like, hon,” a raspy-voiced waitress calls to Beast Boy.

“I choose this one,” he says cheerily, pointing at Raven and Noah as he approaches their table.

“What?” Raven demands testily, then schools herself. She doesn’t have plans of calling Noah back after this – at least not beyond delivering the obligatory “You’re really nice, but…” speech – but that doesn’t mean she has to embarrass herself in front of him, either. “Beast Boy, I am kind of in the middle of something here,” she says, just as the changeling begins insinuating himself into her side of the booth.

“It’s fine, really,” Noah says amicably, waving at the new addition. “I’m Noah. Really great to meet you. I’m quite a fan.”

“Thanks, dude!” Beast Boy replies, beaming. He turns to Raven, glancing down at her combination of a sweater and jeans, and she’s suddenly very self-conscious. “You look nice, Rae,” he offers, then reaches out to steal one of her fries as if rewarding himself for remembering to compliment her.

“She does,” Noah agrees, and he has no way of knowing that the blush creeping up her face now would have been there regardless of his interjection.

“You’re…also not in your uniform,” Raven notes, taking in Gar’s civilian clothes – typical autumn fare, like her own, except that his are slightly damp with rainwater.

“Yeah,” Beast Boy says, pawing at his shirt. “I hit the used video game shop but they didn’t have anything new in since last week. Could’ve used one of your creepy demon umbrellas to keep me from getting all drenched, Raven.”

“Or you could have just remembered to bring your own umbrella,” Raven retorts.

“Who needs to do that when I’ve got a friend like you?” Gar says, batting his eyes at her like an adoring lover. She shoves the thought out of her mind.

“Except I wasn’t out there with you, so common sense dictates–”

“Oh, that again!” Gar scoffs, snatching a few more fries from her plate. He turns to Noah, who has been silently prodding at his burger, and explains, “She’s big on wanting me to use common sense. It’s like, who even decided the rules of common sense? I’d like to talk to that guy. Usually when Raven says ‘common sense’ it means ‘no more fun’.”

Noah gives a tight-lipped, awkward smile, and for as much time as she’s spent wishing the date would wrap up this evening, Raven can’t help but feel guilty.

“Beast Boy,” she says sharply, catching him by the wrist as he reaches for another fry, “Noah and I are having dinner alone right now. Can your antics wait until I get back to the tower, at least?”

Beast Boy’s brows raise, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I think that’s maybe the first time you’ve asked me to reschedule my bullshit instead of threatening to dump me in some random dimension.” He turns back to Noah. “Which is a thing she can do, by the way.”

Noah chuckles nervously. Raven feels the pressure in her temple building.

At this moment, the waitress approaches, pen in hand. “What can I get for you?” she asks Beast Boy robotically, and he considers for a moment.

“Nothing,” Raven answers for him. “He was actually just leaving, but thank you.”

Beast Boy tsks at her. “Raven, don’t you know it’s rude to order for your date?” he says, leaning across her to snatch a menu from behind the napkin holder. Raven intercepts his grab, sending the menu sailing across the restaurant with a wave of energy.

“You are not my date,” she snarls at him through clenched teeth. “Noah is my date,” she gestures at the young man across the table, who appears as uncomfortable as if he were in a proctologist’s waiting room, “and you are intruding.”

Gar blinks a couple times, then sighs, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right, Rae,” he says with chagrin. “I’m sorry. I’ll…take my order to go.” She doesn’t miss the mischievous lilt to his voice.

For all her attempts at composure, Raven can’t resist slamming her fist on the table. The dishes and silverware spread atop it skitter at the disruption, and Raven shakes off the coffee that has sloshed onto her sleeve as she snaps, “You’re not ordering any food! Go home!”

The waitress, whose disinterested demeanor reveals that she would rather be anywhere else, pauses her idle scribbling on her notepad to ask, “So...nothing else, then?”

“I think I’m up for a coffee myself, actually,” Gar says, his eyes never leaving Raven. “It’s chilly out there. Need to warm myself up before I hit the road.”

“One coffee–” the waitress begins.

“No,” Raven interjects. She telepathically confiscates the waitress’ pen, not noticing the brief glint of terror on Noah’s features; her eyes are trained exclusively on Beast Boy. “You are ruining my evening. Go home. I will not ask you again.”

“I’m gonna go for a smoke,” the waitress says noncommittally, as Beast Boy leans in to Raven, murmuring, “Yeah, ‘cause you were having so much fun before, right?”

Raven’s eyes glow with power, the light fixtures above her wavering threateningly. “I am going to–”

“You know,” comes Noah’s meek voice from across the table, “it’s really all right. I’ve got an early day tomorrow anyway and should probably call it a night.” He chuckles nervously as he struggles to extricate himself from the booth. “Let me just, ah…” He begins patting down his pockets hurriedly.

“No problemo, champ,” Gar says, removing a wad of cash from his pocket and waving it tauntingly. “I got this one.” He winks. “She’s kind of an expensive date, right?”

“Heh heh,” Noah manages, adjusting his glasses. “Well, uh…” He turns to Raven as if to bid her goodnight, but her eyes are closed, her fingers massaging her temples methodically.

“Just go,” she says dismissively, and Noah obliges, his exit enabling a gust of autumn wind to sweep into the nearly-empty diner. After the bell above the door has ceased its rattling, Raven opens her eyes, turning a venomous glare onto Beast Boy. “You’re an asshole,” she spits at him.

Beast Boy, who has stolen her coffee in the interim, looks skyward in apparent contemplation, tapping his fingers idly on the mug. “Mmm...surprisingly, not the first time I’ve heard that,” he tells her before taking a sip.

��Raven clenches her jaw. “What is your fucking problem?” she demands.

“I don’t have a problem,” Gar says, watching her in mock incredulity. “You, on the other hand…can demons take Xanax?”

“You ruined my date,” Raven barks at him, defeat gradually overtaking her anger.

“A date?” Gar murmurs thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I didn’t know it was a date.”

“Like hell you didn’t! You expect me to believe you were just in the neighborhood at the exact time and locale of my date tonight?” She pauses, taking in his slouched frame. “And by the way, that store you said you went to is miles away, so try again.”

Gar sighs, turning slightly to angle his body towards Raven. “Come on, Rae. You didn’t even like that guy.”

“How do you know?” Raven hisses, stealing her coffee mug back from where he’s left it unattended on the table. “Maybe I did like him. Maybe I really liked him. Maybe he was my soulmate and now I’ll never know because you made me look like an idiot!”

“Your soulmate?” Gar drawls, giving her a pointed look.

Raven blushes, staring down into the now-cold coffee in her hands. “It’s a figure of speech, you imbecile.”

“No, it’s a real thing, and that guy was not it,” Gar replies evenly. “And if you weren’t so stubborn, maybe you’d realize that sooner.”

Raven takes a deep breath, shoving her coffee away in disgust. “What do you want, Garfield?”

He surprises her by softening his gaze. “A chance,” he says, and when she recoils slightly, “or at least an explanation.”

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“Raven,” Gar says with exasperation. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” she demands.

He leans in close again, refusing to release her gaze. “Pretending you don’t want me, too.”

Raven freezes, afraid to move with his face so close to hers. She looks involuntarily to his lips, then away. “I am not pretending anything,” she insists.

“That’s a lie,” Gar says, in a surprisingly pleasant tone. “We both know it. I’m not the smartest guy in the world, Rae, but I haven’t been imagining this feeling between us.”

“What feeling?” Raven demands, finding she has shifted closer inadvertently.

“The one that made you stare, smiling, like a lovesick fool at me through the window for like, a full five seconds before it clicked that I was there,” Gar says with a smirk. “And, yeah, it hurt that when I asked you out, you told me you ‘just weren’t looking’ for a relationship, only to find out you’re out here dating around, but hey.” He cups her chin gently. “I’ll crash as many bad dates as you want me to. Just say the word.”

It takes every ounce of strength in Raven’s body to remove his hand from her face, but she does, spiriting past him out of the booth before she can change her mind. “You’re deluding yourself,” she says, unsure whether she’s directing this towards the changeling or herself. She pauses at the door, turning to ghost some of Beast Boy’s money to the table to pay the bill, then steps out into the cold night.

He’s, naturally, right on her tail. They pass the waitress from earlier, a long cigarette dangling from her mouth as she shelters under the restaurant’s awning. She doesn’t look up as they pass, nor as Gar grabs for Raven’s hand and bids her to stop.

“This doesn’t have to be hard, Raven,” he pleads, pulling her beneath the awning. “Look, I–I know it was immature of me to come here tonight. Really, I do.” Raven rolls her eyes at this, leaning back against the building with her arms folded tightly. “But I couldn’t stomach the idea of you with some other guy,” Gar continues. “If I thought you didn’t feel the same way, I’d have tucked my tail between my legs and gone home. But I…Raven, if I was wrong about this whole thing – if you really, actually, never in a million years would want to be with me – then I’ll drop it. Forever, okay? I promise.” He is standing directly in front of her now, rain droplets hanging from his nose and eyelashes, green eyes darkening slightly. He leans in to deliver, in a whisper, the words, “But I don’t think you can tell me that.”

Raven’s breath catches in her throat, and she is undeniably watching his lips now, transfixed. She swallows once, unsure if her voice will do her bidding. “It would jeopardize our job. Our family,” she says finally, their other teammates flashing before her mind’s eye. “If something went wrong–”

“We won’t let it,” Gar says insistently, holding her face again. “We’ve fought bigger baddies than this. I think we can handle it.”

“No, this–” Raven reaches up to hold his wrist, but doesn’t remove his hand again. “This is my biggest baddie.”

And she doesn’t have to elaborate. He knows – Azar, she loves how he sometimes just knows – that she means love. Letting him in. Opening the floodgates to a world of emotion she has very little experience navigating. The overwhelming fear that it might all be for nothing – that she could let him consume her and one day he could wake up and not want her anymore, and as earth-shattering as that would be by itself, there could be implications for her future as a Titan, her future with her chosen family, and it’s the scariest thought she’s ever had.

Gar nods, stroking her face with his thumb. “I’ll be in your corner the whole time,” he assures her in a hushed tone. “I’m not going anywhere, Rae. And I know all I can give you is my word – and the love I know you can feel from me – so it’s your choice, Raven. Are you done playing it safe here? Do you want to take a chance?” He shrugs weakly. “Or not?”

His presence, this close to her face, is more intoxicating than anything she’s ever known. She knows he can tell, with his heightened senses, how shaky her breath is, how erratic her heartbeat. She slides her hand down his arm to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him forward to rest their foreheads against one another.

“No one can know,” she tells him. “Not yet.”

His mouth erupts into a toothy grin, his other hand lifting to match the one cradling her face. “Okay,” he agrees, and then she can’t wait anymore, and his lips are on hers, her entire frame radiating with passion and desire and love so disorienting that she can’t tell which emotions are hers and which are his.

The entwined pair are startled by a smoker’s cough, and their heads snap over to find the waitress from the diner stubbing out her cigarette, smiling at them faintly through a haze of smoke. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she says with a wink before heading back inside, and Gar silences Raven’s growing protest with another kiss.

#i'm not going to lie the part that took the longest was choosing a gif #bbraeweek22 #bbraeweek2022 #bbrae #teen titans #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #rachel roth

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