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jasntodds · 1 year

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Caving In [3]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,023

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, a nightmare, flirting, fluff, jason and reader trauma-bonding, talks of abuse (it’s not super detailed), mentions of food being withheld, gar feels like his trauma isn’t “enough” (unrelated to the trauma-bonding), mentions of death, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of bruises

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: So, this is the chapter where I decided to change who the fic was about because I mean hi lol so this chapter is Jason heavy 😂 I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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The movie came to a close twenty minutes ago, Rachel already off to her room to get some sleep but Gar and Jason are still in the living room with you asleep. Gar doesn’t want to move you, he’s never been a big fan of waking people up when they’re asleep, especially when it’s obvious they haven’t slept very much. On top of that though, he’s not sure if waking you up would scare you and then you’d burn him or something. So, he figures it might be best to just let you sleep. Jason volunteered to hang out with him for a little bit anyway.

Jason looks over and his eyes just land on you. You look peaceful and kind of nice when you’re not being a snarky bitch to him. Though, he does kind of give as good as he gets not that he’d ever admit that of course. And maybe he likes that you actually have a bit of fire in your words when you talk to him. Gar and Rachel normally brush off his mean and sarcastic comments and Dick can never be bothered. You though, you play along and maybe he thinks it’s a little fun.

“Why are you staring at her, dude? It’s weird.” Gar looks away from his phone to look at Jason.

Jason shakes his head, grabbing his own phone to scroll through Twitter. “I wasn’t staring.” He mutters, his cheeks turning a bright red.

“Yeah, you were.” Gar insists. “Don’t make it weird, she’s nice and it’s cool to have someone new around.”

“I’m not making it fucking weird, man.” Jason sighs before he looks back over, glancing between Gar and you. “You gonna go for it though?” Jason raises his brows with the question, choosing to deflect.

Gar’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I just said don’t make it weird.” Gar’s voice goes up an octave with his words. “She’s been here a day.”

Jason chuckles more to himself than at Gar. “I’m just trying to figure out the rules. You’re my friend and I don’t wanna overstep, man.” He has this grin that absolutely says he will overstep if not told otherwise.

Gar’s forehead wrinkles with Jason’s words and if it were anyone else, maybe he’d be surprised by how fast he wants this move but it’s Jason. The same guy who uses 420 and 69 (or both together) as passcodes so Gar can’t actually be too surprised. And Gar also knows that if he doesn’t answer Jason, Jason is going to do what he wants. He’s an asshole, sure, but he’s not a half-bad friend, actually.

“I don’t know.” Gar shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

Jason hums. “So, I can go for it then? If I want?” Jason asks and then quickly follows up with more. “Not that I do, I’m just asking.”

“Right.” Gar deadpans and you aren’t an article of clothing they’re swapping because it’s nice or something.

You’re a living breathing human being who has the right to make your own decisions. Of course, Gar knows that’s not what Jason is getting at during this or anything. He’s asking if he can flirt or try to actually get with you if you’re interested but it doesn’t make Gar feel any better. You’ve been here a day and maybe Gar just wants you to settle in before Jason jumps down your throat about it. And, to be completely fair, Gar does think you’re very pretty but he actually wants to take the time to get know you before he decides if he’d even be interested. He’s just here having fun learning to be a Titan.

“Maybe we just let her come to us if she’s interested.” Gar proposes, a partial way to get Jason to drop it. “After, she actually gets settled.”

“Hey,” Jason defends himself, but his voice is still quieter than it normally is. “It’s just a question, she seemed to be comfortable around you is all.” Jason glances to you once more before going back to his phone. “Obviously.”

“Can we drop this? She is right here.” Gar slightly shifts in his seat, not enough to wake up you.

“She’s asleep.” Jason scoffs before looking back at Gar who just looks annoyed. “Alright, damn chill out. I’ll leave her alone for a while.”

Gar nods, not having anything else to add on the topic and Jason drops it. The boys go back to their phones and have some conversation here and there about Twitter threads and TikToks they find. Nothing substantial really comes from any of it but both of them enjoy the time. Gar actually likes hanging out with Jason like this, he hasn’t had a best friend in a long time and this feels normal to him. Turning into a tiger usually makes him feel a little freakish, especially after spending so much time at Doom Manor where they were pretty much described as freaks. It was hurtful, he just wants to be normal and having movie nights with Jason and Rachel feels normal.

It doesn’t matter how much trauma any of them have when there’s a movie on and they’re just hanging out. It’s just them and when it’s him and Jason, that’s all there is. Normalcy. Even with you, a new girl, sleeping on him. In a way, it even feels a little comforting with you laying your head on him because he’s not a scary tiger. He’s just a boy.

After another half hour, Jason leaves Gar to head to the training room. Gar tried to convince him to go to bed but Jason doesn’t listen to anyone so now it’s just Gar and you. He’s getting tired himself and he’s heavily debating on waking you up so he can go in his own bed. But, the debate doesn’t last long because suddenly, you shoot off of his shoulder, heaving for air. You sit forward, eyes wide as Gar slightly jerks away from you as a reflex.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks, leaning back over and forward to get a look at your face.

You suck in a breath, your chest heaving with every breath and your heart pounding. You barely even comprehend you’re still in the living room when Gar asks you the question. All you can do is nod and try to breathe. This is really going to be your life now? Tortured in reality by a psychopath and now tortured in a dream state by the same fucking psychopath? How the fuck is that fair? You finally escaped only to be haunted by your dreams in a place you actually kind of, sort of, feel safe in.

“Nightmare?” Gar asks, not moving from his position.

You turn your head to the right to look over your shoulder back at Gar. “Y-yeah.” You nod softly before looking forward, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

Gar’s brows furrow. “For what?”

“Uh…” No one’s asked you what you’re sorry for before. You’re always supposed to be sorry for either getting angry or upset or having a smart-ass comment. There’s always something you’re supposed to apologize for. “Falling asleep, falling asleep on you….” You pause. “Nightmare.”

“You,” Gar leans forward some more, a little closer to you to try and offer you comfort in the only way he knows how. “You don’t have to be sorry for any of that. It’s okay.”

You glance over at him and the way he looks at you make you feel like porcelain. Fragile and weak. It’s not a feeling you like very much. But his eyes are warm and kind, so kind that they make you want to tell him your whole life story without ever coming up for a breath of fresh air. And it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps.” Gar offers with a welcoming but small smile.

You look over to him again, your eyes dodging his this time. You can feel the flame in your belly flickering, it wants to go out so bad. It’s been wanting to go out the last few months, the last few months you were held. At the beginning, it was bonfire in your stomach. The second even a drop of gasoline were to land, it would all blow. But the gasoline never dripped or spilled. It sat in the corner and taunted you and the flame died down. And you’re so tired of it.

You want the fight back and maybe talking about it would help you feel better but you don’t want to feel better. You want to be pissed and angry and furious and you want the fucking fire back so you can hunt the bastard down yourself. But then you look at Gar again and he’s soft. It’s like you’re this tea light and he’s a glass lamp over you. Not burning out the flame but keeping it going just enough to function.

“Um…” You pause, leaning back against the couch. “It’s just….uh…i-it’s like I’m back there again.” You admit. “A-and he-he’s right there.” You stutter while Gar watches. “J-just f-fucking taunting me, k-knowing I-I can’t do anything. Fuck.” You swallow hard, not even realizing you were practically holding your breath.

Gar turns in his spot so he can better face you, never moving away from you. “What happened?” Gar asks calmly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gar adds on, never wanting you to feel pressured about it.

You hang your head, then shake it. He’s going to give you the look. The pitiful look you got when your mom died. It’s the same look everyone always gives, you’re guilty of giving the look, too but it makes you shift and it make you feel uneasy. You get it, feeling bad for people who experience trauma. It’s natural but you don’t find it comforting and maybe you would find it easier if he had something snarky to say. Make it easier with humor, it’s what you do anyway.

“W-what’s the worst thing you’ve heard someone go through?” You ask, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Gar sighs, thinking about it but he didn’t think very long before he starts talking, thinking maybe if you know what he’s seen and heard, it’ll make you trust him enough to talk to him. “Rachel, probably.” He answers honestly. “Her mom, who wasn’t her real mom, was shot in front of her. Then, she was locked away,” Gar says. “Only for a few hours but locked away for her powers.” He adds in. “Then,” He pauses and your brows go up in surprise. “We found her real mom who convinced her to bring in her demon dad to save my life. He possessed all of our friends and then got them to almost beat me to death in front of her.” Gar lists, reliving all of it in quick images. “Trigon,” You look at him quizzically. “Demon dad.” Gar clarifies. “Killed her real mom and then Rachel killed him.”

You sit there for a second and you really thought you had it bad. Of course, what you went through was still terrible but you do not want to play trauma Olympics with Rachel that’s for damn sure. But, Rachel seems okay, weirdly enough. You aren’t sure how long ago all of that was but Rachel does seem okay and even happy which gives you the one thing you haven’t had in months. Hope.

“Well…okay.” You nod slowly, taking in the information.

“Oh!” Gar says, remembering to add more. “We were also being chased by people who were trying to kill her because of her powers.” Gar lets out a breath, his nonchalant add-in almost makes you laugh. What the fuck?

You blink a few times. “I….I don’t even know what to say to all of that.”

“Yeah,” Gar chuckles softly. “It was pretty crazy.”

“No fucking shit.” You laugh softly. “That’s fucked up.”

Gar nods. “Yeah, but she’s okay now.” Gar assures you.

“She seems to like it. This place help?” Your eyes glance to your hands and then back to Gar.

Gar nods once more. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “I think it does.”

It’s helped him a little bit. But, he doesn’t think his trauma is worth talking about. It’s not as bad as Rachel’s or yours. It was a disease, sure his was different, but it was a disease and people get diseases all the time. Some people live and some people die because that’s how it works. He turns into a green tiger but is that really trauma? In the grand scheme of the conversation? Gar doesn't really think so. So, he keeps the idea of the Tower and the people helping him cope to himself.

“I-it was just…hell.” You suck in a breath, deciding to tell him a little bit. “I was there for a while and this,” You gesture over your face. “Was pretty normal.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I-I, uh, I-I thought he was gonna…kill me for a while.” You swallow. “I think he wanted to.”

“I’m sorry.” Gar’s brows knit together with sympathy and there’s the look.

You can’t handle the look, not from him. Clearly, he’s seen and heard a lot but now maybe you don’t want to burden him with your shit. He’s been through his own and clearly knows Rachel’s, you can only assume he knows some of Jason’s shit, whatever it is. To you, Gar seems like the person everyone goes to with their problems and you don’t want to stick that burden on him. Not with eyes as caring and gentle as his. It breaks your heart to even be sitting here telling him anything. So, you quit.

“Um…” You shake your head “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shut down and Gar just nods.

“It’s okay.” Gar assures you as you get up from the couch.

“I’m…I’m gonna walk.” You fake a smile at him. “Clear my head. Thanks for letting me sleep, Gar.”

“If you need to talk, you can talk to me.” Gar stands up with you, worried he overstepped. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No.” You cut him off quickly. “You didn’t…it’s not like that. I….just. It’s so fucking fresh and you….” You suck your teeth, brows furrowing together as if you’re in pain. “You make me feel normal and I don’t wanna ruin that.” You divert your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry…thank you.” You look back up at him before turning on your heels and head into the left hallway, disappearing into the shadows.

Gar watches you disappear, kicking himself. He thinks he made it worse. He’s just trying to be there for you but he’s slowly figuring out that that’s not something you want. Not in the talking about-it way, anyway. It’s like you just want to be distracted from it all which Gar can’t blame you for. He can only really imagine what happened from his and Jason’s little bit of research and what information you did give him. His heart aches for you but he’ll never push you to tell him anything. Instead, he goes to his room but he leaves the door cracked just in case you change your mind.

You find yourself wandering the halls until you reach the training room. There you find Jason back at the punching bag. You pull out the phone Dick gave you earlier today and it’s three in the morning. Suddenly, you feel even worse about falling asleep on Gar given how late it is. But, you choose not to focus on the guilt in your stomach and instead on Jason. You stand in the doorway, confused why he would train at this hour. Is he insane?

“Do you ever stop training?” You ask, arms crossed as you’re leaning against one of the sliding doors.

Jason jumps, spinning around quickly. “Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” Jason almost yells at you.

You snicker with a shrug. “Few seconds.”

“What do you want?” He asks and he’s as snarky as ever which makes you happy. It’s like he treats you normally. Not that the others don’t but you can tell it’s like they’re tip-toeing but Jason doesn’t.

You walk in just a few feet, looking around before looking back at Jason. “Was just walking around.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

Jason didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the night. He kind of figured if you woke up, you’d just go to your room, not walk around. Or maybe, you’d be with Gar but you’re here in the training room with him. And maybe despite the snarkiness, he wants you to stay. Maybe the comments will make you want to stay, for entertainment. You seem to like the challenge.

“You’re the one punching a bag at three in the fucking morning. You’re being weird, dude.” You snark with the raise of your brows and Jason deadpans before returning to the bag.

You watch him a little longer and this is your opportunity to ask him to help you. No one else is here and you can only assume Gar went to bed so it’s just you two. He’s clearly dedicated so maybe he’ll want to help anyway. If not, you figure you’ll just hold the little bet over his head.

You close the distance, walking over toward the punching bag. “You’re so….”

“Charming?” Jason glances at you as he punches the bag. “Amazing?” He punches again. “Hot?” He flashes a cocky grin and you sigh.

“I was gonna say snippy, actually.”

“You’re fucking annoying you know that?” Jason snarks.

“Mmm.” You click your tongue a grin pulling at your lips as you point a finger at him. “There it is.”

“Seriously, what do you want?” Jason stops, facing you with annoyance.

“Train me, Dick said I’m not ready.” You hold your head up, crossing your arms across your chest.

Jason pauses, the question catching him off guard. You don’t actually look like you’re in any condition to train, not that Jason really ever agrees with Dick. Bruce doesn’t think he should be Robin but Jason knows he’s ready to get back to it so in a way, Jason understands why you’re asking. Feeling ready, but the adults want to think they know what’s best. It’s shitty. But Jason likes a good fight.

“What happened to you?” The snarkiness leaves his voice as he nods his head up at you and you’re taken aback. Jason, not asking a snarky question? Now, that’s weird.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your voice is level, eyes slight narrowed.

Jason pauses. He’s actually just curious. He knows his motive for wanting to train harder and better and faster than everyone else but what’s yours? Unless yours is going after whoever did whatever it was to you. But now you have powers so you could just take them out with those. You don’t need the combat, really. Jason just wants to know and maybe he has a little more stake in it. He does care about it, even though he acts like he doesn’t. He’s not completely heartless. Plus, maybe it’ll give him bonus points.

“Curious.” Jason shrugs, eyes glancing from your socks to your face.

“You just wanna see all the trauma?” You raise and Jason shrugs, his brows raising quickly as if to be saying ‘why not’ and his nonchalant attitude with the mix of snark gives you enough reason to challenge him a little but take the risk in having to spill. You take a few steps towards him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You close the small distance between you standing just an inch away from him. Jason’s breath hitches in his throat for just a second as he looks to you. The look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine and he’s ready to play the game.

“Asked you first.” Jason doesn’t move from his stance, instead he holds still, looking at you with his eyes locked on yours and he sees a grin coming to your face.

“Alright,” You take one step back. “But don’t make it all emotional or some shit.” You plop down on the floor in front of him, sitting with your legs crossed, Jason taking a breath finally.

He said he wouldn’t. He told Gar he’d leave you alone for a little while but what is he supposed to do when you initiate it? Jason is not gonna back down from that. And, he thinks it’s fun. You play the game and lean into the challenge instead of backing away. It’s only when Jason goes to play, too that you switch it up like a game of cat and mouse. It’s thrilling a little.

Jason chuckles but follows your lead. “You always sit on the floor?”

“You always in here?” You quip.

“Shut up.” Jason shakes his head but a smile still tugs at his lips. “So, spill your guts.”

“It’s not getting that deep, bud.” You scoff but match the smile.

This is what you were thinking when talking to Gar. Gar makes it feel vulnerable, talking about it. That’s not how you want to feel about it. You want to feel strong and fiery. It’s not Gar’s fault, you can tell it’s because he just really, truly cares and feels bad about whatever it is. But, Jason, it’s like he cares but only out of curiosity not because he’s trying to save you or help you.

“Mom was killed by the Joker,” You start, gauging Jason’s face as you talk. “Dad’s a meth addict, a great parental figure obviously.” You say sarcastically. “Went into foster care, Jerry.” You grimace with his name and you try to dodge the feeling of agony and fear when you say his name. “Was my foster dad if you can even call him that.” You scoff. “He wanted to make superhumans. He used me as a test subject, I think for himself to see if anything would work. I had so many things injected I lost count over the year. He kept me chained in a basement and because none of that was quite bad enough, the fucker decided to beat me, too when I didn’t show signs of powers. He’d withhold food, all that shit. I survived mostly off of chicken noodle soup. He beat me so bad, I guess he thought I was dead and dumped in an alley and now I’m here.” You keep your voice nonchalant and steady, listing off your past like some recap of a sitcom.

Jason keeps his eyes on you and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s rare to get him speechless but here he is, without a single word in his head. How is he even supposed to respond to that? It just sounds terrible and horrifying.

“How long did he keep you like that?” He settles on the question, knowing talking about the events in Gotham is a sore spot for him.

“A year, I think. Lost track a bit.” You answer with a shrug, silently begging him to have something snarky or sarcastic to say because now it’s all too real and you wish you could turn back the clock and not say anything.

“That’s fucked up. He’d just experiment on you and fucked you up cause he could?” Jason asks as if not really believe what he’s hearing. People are terrible.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“Fuck that guy, he’s a piece of fucking shit, alright?" There’s a fury in his voice this time and it makes you smile just a little bit. He’s not sorry, he just thinks Jerry is a shitty person.

“No shit.” You huff.

“It worked though, he gave you powers. Why the fuck wouldn’t you have used them?” Jason’s expression changes to confusion. “I’m not blaming you.” Jason defends his words, feeling like it might have come off a bit like victim blaming. “I’m just curious.”

“I was afraid he’d kill me knowing that it worked. I…uh, I learned how to stay calm when he’d come at me so I pissed him off really bad a few days ago. The calmer I was, the more angry he’d get.”

“You got him to do that to you on purpose?” Jason practically yells.

He’s not sure what he expected, really. He kind of just thought it got too bad one day. It lead you to that alley. He didn’t think you actually got someone to do that to you.

You nod, a feeling of shame taking over. “I couldn’t escape any other way. I knew if I could piss him off really really bad, he’d come at me like never before. I could pretend like he killed me or put me into a coma, caused a massive brain bleed, ya know? Something, he would dump me somewhere. It was that or he was gonna kill anyway.” You pause. “Backfired a little, he did come back and I guess thought throwing a few more punches would wake me up.”

“You just played dead the whole time?” There’s a pain in Jason’s voice and he thought this could turn into something of fun, quick-witted jokey conversation but he just feels like you kicked off a cliff.

“Oh, no, I was actually knocked unconscious most of the time while all of it was going on.” You nod casually.

“Fuck.” Jason lets out a breath before continuing. “That’s kind of badass though.” Jason states giving you a grin, you shaking your head and jerking backward in confusion. “You just took him beating the fuck outta you. That’s fucking crazy.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, dude’s got a hell of an arm and a kick, a-fucking-parently.” Jason’s brows raise as if to be asking for context. “Found more bruises when I showed today, got a nice boot print on my back.” A scoff leaves the back of your throat.

“Fuck that guy, alright?” Jason says, growing angry at the conversation. Who does that to someone for no reason? He kicks ass every night in Gotham as Robin but those people deserve it. What did you ever do to this guy who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe? It’s not right. “He’s a piece of shit and you didn’t deserve that shit. I'll hunt the monster down for you if I have to.”

You furrow your brows. “That’s a kind offer.”

“I’m fucking Robin!” Jason tosses his hands out, gesturing into his chest and outward again. “It’s my job to hunt those dickweeds down!”

You let out a genuine laugh. He is pretty funny actually and he’s not the Robin that let the Joker kill your mom. You actually think Jason would kill the bad guys if he were allowed to. “Mhm.” You hum. “Which is why you’re the best Robin.”

“You think so?” Jason asks, the joy in his voice makes you giggle. “I know I am but Dick and Bruce...” He pauses for a second. “They don’t think so.”

“Well, Dick and Bruce don’t know shit.” You hold your head up high, and you truly think Jason is the better Robin. You’ve seen the YouTube videos.

“Thanks.” Jason offers a sincere smile. “That why you wanna train? Hunt him down yourself kind of deal?”

“Yeah, if I ever see the piece of shit I don’t wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. I wanna beat the fuck with my bare fucking hands like he did to me.” There it is, the fire you’ve been looking for. You want him to suffer at your own hands. No one else, just you and him and you want to watch everything he worked for crash around him. You want him to be bloody and bruised and beaten like you have been for a year.

“Good, he fucking deserves it. Dick will probably hunt him down if you tell him.” Jason informs you. “He used to be a detective and he worked a lot of cases with shitty parents. I think he went out as Robin and kicked their asses.”

You smile. “Good, people who beat kids deserve what’s coming.” You laugh softly, stretching your legs out beside Jason’s and leaning back on your hands. “Your turn.”

Jason nods, pulling the leg furthest from you up so his foot is on the floor and his knee is bent while he leans back on his hands. “Dad was killed by Two-Face, mom’s a smack addict, uncle drank himself to death.” Jason rambles off as if it were nothing and your eyes squint for just a second. You’re nonchalant because it’s easier that way. Is it easier for him to be like this, too? “Gotham, right?” Jason scoffs, looks down and away from you.

“Special kind of fucked up there.” You say, not looking away from him. “I’m really sorry.” You say, your heart aching for him, something you didn’t really expect given the banter between you. “How’d you get here then?” You ask, instead of asking for details about those he lost knowing you don’t like to talk about it and assuming he probably doesn’t either.

“Caught stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile.” Jason chuckles, his cocky grin back on his face as he looks to you, clearly proud of himself. He expects you to be impressed with his courage to steal from Batman of all people. But that’s not what your face is telling him.

Your eyes narrow and then you look up before squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Hubcaps.” Your voice is exasperated, eyes closed before looking back at him. “Fuck.”

Jason laughs, knowing what the expression is now. “What? You robbing cars?” He shakes his head. “Nah, you gotta get the hubcaps, more likely to get money from that. Less likely to get caught, too.”

“Fuck you. You got caught, too!” You glare at him.

“Because it was the fucking Batmobile.” Jason tilts his head back with a laugh. “He didn’t wanna press charges, instead, he took me in.”

“Oh, to have been so lucky.” You snark with the roll of your eyes.

“Yeah…” Jason sucks in a breath. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” You scoff with a smile. “I wish I would have been smart enough to rob the Batmobile!”

“Everyone says it was dumb.” Jason scoffs.

Bruce said it was dumb, the cop said it was dumb, Dick, Gar, Alfred, everyone but every single one of them completely neglect the need to survive. Jason's been in and out of the system his entire life. He got lucky that he didn't end up like you in all of the time he was in the system. It was lucky. He lived on the streets, no job, no GED, no diploma, he had nothing. Stealing the hubcaps off cars was how he got money for food. The Batmobile? He knew he'd get more money for it. No one wants to talk about why he did it, just that it was "dumb".

“Well, you got to move in with Batman and even if you succeeded, you would have gotten money. That’s a win-win.” You give him a smile and a laugh because you really wish you would have done it. You get it, you’re the one who gets it.

“What I said!” Jason defends.

“So, that it? Parents and guardians suck?” You pause. “So…why're you here then? I think you're a great Robin, seems a bit weird you're here." You question because you want to know what he did. If stealing hubcaps wasn't Bruce's red flag, what was it?

Jason’s face grows something sad and you’re watching, not sure what he would be sad about. He seems so happy about being Robin. What is there to be sad about? Dick said Bruce wasn’t the best, but was it that bad? Is the guy who dresses up as Batman every night actually a horrible person? Is it all just a show?

“He’s making me take a break.” Jason looks to the ground, his face settling somewhere between annoyed and sad.

You nod. “Ah, what’d ya do?”

“Well,” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There was the joyrides in the Batmobile and then riding a motorcycle in the manor.”

“I-you…I don’t know what to unpack first. Batmobile or the motorcycle. Why? For both, I guess?” You question.

Why would he risk that? Getting thrown back to the streets or worse? You run the questions through your head but you don't need to ask him because you know. It's what he does. It's what you do. You’re asking Jason to go behind Dick's back, knowing that Dick doesn't have to let you stay. It's a risk and sometimes the risk is worth it. Maybe it's genetic, to be some sort of fuck up. Or, in this case, maybe it's just environmental.

Jason shrugs. “Seemed fun, I guess.”

“You know what I think.” You point a finger at him and Jason deadpans but gestures a hand out for you to proceed. “I think he doesn’t give you enough attention.”

“You a fucking shrink now?”

“Fuck no.” You chortle. “Just an observation. Seems like you like a lot of attention.”

"And why the fuck do you think that?"

"You're a smart-ass." You chuckle as if it should have been obvious. "The risks you take, the fact everyone has something to say about you tells me you intentionally start the shit so they do talk about you. Talking about you in any context is better than being forgotten." You explain and Jason just watches you growing annoyed. He thinks he's so hard to figure out but you have him pegged in five minutes.

"Fuck you." Jason huffs. He does not like being analyzed.

"No one wants to be forgotten." Your voice is quiet and the annoyance suddenly leaves Jason with your tone. You notice the way he looks at you, not with sympathy or pity but with a genuine understanding and you deflect. "And if you keep saying fuck you, I might take you up on it." You wiggle your brows at him and Jason's jaw opens slightly, feeling as if he's just gotten whiplash.

He can play this game. He won't let you get one over on him. This is Jason's game to play and win.

"Fuck. You." Jason taunts you, leaning forward slightly.

You think it's funny. You’re just messing with him but the way he doesn't even bat an eye at it, it energizes your blood in every way. Talking and messing with Jason makes you feel so normal. He doesn't do that little dance thing that Gar does, where he's so worried about stepping on your feelings. Jason just blurts shit out and calls your bluff. It's fun.

"Tell me how you really feel." You challenge him.

Jason wants to go there because he doesn't think you'll commit to it. Maybe you'll pull away or laugh but he'll have won because he didn't back down first. It's like this silent game you're playing and Jason can't tell who the ringmaster is. He swears up and down it's him, but you take the challenge and maybe he's a little worried you'll win.

You make him feel....not useless right now. He has felt useless since being sent here. Dick didn't want him to stick around and help but he kept Rachel and Gar around. He couldn't stop Trigon, he never even stood a chance. But, with you, you don't know any of that shit. It's just you two with no expectations of anything. It's the two of you and your trauma bonding and this little game. He wants it to be a long game though, drag it out and see who wins then.

"I don't think you like attention." Jason states, your brows furrowing and you didn't expect him to be the one to back down.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re awake when no one else is. You choose Gar to hang out with. I'm guessing you did a lot of the crime at night and not just because it was easier. It's Gotham, day crime is also pretty fucking easy. Guessing you haven't told anyone else what happened because you don't want them to look at you.” Jason explains in the same way you did but this time, with a bit more bite in his voice.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Maybe you’re also a bit transparent around him. “Mmm who’s the wanna-be shrink now?”

“Fuck off.” Jason chuckles. “Have you told anyone else? About what happened to you?”

You shake your head. “No, uh…” You furrow your brows, shaking your head once more. “I almost told Gar but….he makes it….too…”

“Real?”

“Yeah and vulnerable. Dick’s too serious about it and I haven’t talked much to Rachel. You always have a smartass comment though. Makes it feel more like a joke. And....we have Gotham in common, ya know?”

Jason nods with understanding. He doesn’t really like talking about any of it either. None of it really. It’s why he always says it so nonchalantly. It’s easier to brush it all off than boil in the feelings of sadness and regret. It’ll eat him alive if he thinks too much about it.

“Yeah, you make it easier, too.”

“Was that something nice you just said?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason groans. He nods his head up at you quickly. “How bad are the bruises?” You raise one brow at him. “I’m not a complete fucking asshole, alright? I don’t actually want you to get hurt.”

He’s thinking of caving. He gets you and you get him. Jason doesn’t have confidence about where this will go by any means but he’s confident he can trust you. If it were Jason, he’d never fucking quit if he were told he couldn’t train. He’d be training recklessly if he had to. You, at least had the brains to come and ask him for help. You’re not dumb, you’re desperate and Jason gets it. But he doesn’t want to contribute to your injuries if they’re that bad.

You think for a few seconds. They’re not great. Most of them are a deeper shades which means they’re further away from healing but you have a few older ones that have turned lighter in color. You know those aren’t the ones him and Dick are concerned about. And you could lie to him, it’s not like he’s going to pin you down and check for himself. But that doesn’t really feel right. Especially with him being nice to you and honest.

“What’s your definition of bad?” You ask, just trying to see how well you need to answer his question.

“Do they hurt?” Jason asks, not sure how to answer it.

“Well, yeah they’re bruises.”

“You know what I mean.” Jason groans.

“Yeah, they hurt. Like walking kind of hurts and bending certain ways hurts.”

“And you wanna fucking train and make it worse?”

“Do you ever rest? If you get hurt being Robin, do you rest or do you train?”

“Fine.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost the battle. “But you know you’re not gonna run into the guy this week, right? The tower is secure so you don’t have shit to worry about.”

Jason caves. Training helps him deal with the bullshit. It makes him feel like he has a purpose. Being Robin is the one thing he does really well and it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, something he’s never felt before. All the bullshit that happened before, it doesn’t matter when he’s Robin and when he’s training. He wants to give that to you.

“I know but I wanna be prepared. I wasn’t prepared last time.” You answer honestly. You will never let anyone do that to you again.

“You’re fucking crazy, ya know?” Jason chuckles softly.

“So are you, bud.” You get up. “Well, good talk. Lots of trauma bonding, but I’m gonna try to go tot bed.” You opt to end the conversation just in case he changes his mind but you’re a little disappointed. You do enjoy talking to him. Just like this.

Jason pauses for a second, looking up at you. You’re a human person and you have similarities in your traumas. It’s a little refreshing in a fucked up kind of way. No one else really gets it because it’s different, having a parent actively abandon you is different than dying. In a way, Jason thinks it’s worse. His mom picked drugs over him. He wasn’t good enough to love, by his own mother, and the only one who’d actually get that here is you. But, he knows that you might also benefit from actually talking about it with someone who can offer some actual support about it. It did help when he talked to Gar about it once.

“You should talk to Gar.” Jason says from the floor as you were on your way out.

“About?” You turn to look at him.

“What happened to you.” Jason gets up from the floor.

“Why?” You think it’s a bit weird to bring that up and now. You both just said it’s weird making it feel vulnerable and real.

Jason shrugs. “Might help, dealing with it.” He sucks in a breath as if it’s hard for him to even say. He hates talking about it but Gar will just listen. He’s the one person Jason has actually had a heart-to-heart to about it.

“Afraid I might…break him.” You laugh softly. “Ya know? Like he’s already seen some bad shit and he is…. unfathomably kind. I don’t wanna ruin him.”

Jason huffs but there’s a smile peaking onto his face. “He looks at the ligature marks on your wrists whenever you’re not tugging on your sleeves. Whatever he’s imagining happened to you is always going to be worse than what actually happened.” Jason says, his voice a bit flat and you can see this is a struggle for him to say and you wonder why.

“Like in horror movies. Choosing not to show the violence because what we imagine will always be scarier.”

“Yeah, I’m just saying, he’s a good listener if you just wanna be pissed about it.” Jason chuckles. “He’ll let you bitch about it.”

You smile at him and shake your head. Everyone here wants to talk so much shit about him which hey, maybe he deserves usually. But, you see through his bullshit because you do the same shit. It’s not cold-hearted, it’s a coping mechanism. A way to protect yourselves from getting hurt again. You get him, you get it and it makes you happy because he gets you, too.

“You’re not so bad, Jason Todd.” There's a genuine sweetness to your eyes as you say it and Jason doesn't believe it.

“I am the best.” He opens his arms, palms up, the arrogant smile beaming.

You roll your eyes, feeling bubbles and butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, sure, goodnight, Jason.” You emphasis his name as you turn to leave and it sends Jason’s heart spinning.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” His voice is actually kind as he watches you leave.

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fishwithtitz · 8 months

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The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 3

Summary: I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge.

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 11.4k words

Warnings: language, vaginal sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, mention of death/post-mortem care

aO3 link

Chapter Three : Hook-up #3: The Kitchen

It had been a while since I’d been out in public past 3 am. Hell, it’d been a while since I’d made it to last call.

Tonight had been one of Thomas’ band’s bigger shows, and this time, it didn’t take much begging from Des for me to join in on the fun. It was the weekend which meant work was a distant thought easily shelved to the back corner of my mind. After a couple too many cheap tequila shots and a peer-pressured beer before drinks were cut off at the venue, I felt loosened but content, and I made no argument to Mark’s suggestion to hit up an all night restaurant for some greasy food to soak up the booze that coated our stomachs.

So, here Mark, Des, and I sat at a rounded booth at a 24-hour diner as we waited for the rest of the group to join us. Cracked vinyl scratched against the backs of my knees and the dark yellow foam all but clawed its way through the time-worn rips. As I crossed a leg over the other, my arms came to fold underneath my chest and rest against the chipped tabletop, lost in unimportant thought.

“Doll,” A hazy voice tickled my ear and began to break me from my daydream. “—hey, Dahlia!”

I jerked a bit as I felt a hand brush my shoulder and looked up to see Thomas, Greg, Mary, and another one of Thomas’ band mates that I couldn’t remember the name of for the life of me.

“Mind letting us in?” Thomas asked, hand just barely reaching out to motion to the empty booth seating beside me.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” I chuckled a little, tone more embarrassed than I’d like to admit, and slid out of the booth to let Thomas slide in next to Des. The momentarily nameless drummer and Greg popped in beside Thomas, leaving myself and Mary to squeeze in last. Mary gestured to the seat as if to nonverbally say ‘go ahead,’ and I crammed myself in next to Greg. Mary slid in beside me, weirdly careful not to accidentally knock elbows or brush his leg against mine in the close quarters. I tried not to think anything of it.

Greg dipped forward over the table and grabbed at the small stack of menus. He tossed one to Mary and I before distributing a few more across the table. I pushed the sticky, laminated menu closer to Mary and relaxed my forearms against the stained tabletop.

As everyone settled, chatter about the show was drummed up and compliments were slued around the table to the three sweaty musicians that occupied the booth. They explained that they were held up by the venue and a nearly stolen guitar, though luckily no fists were thrown and the instrument had been misplaced by the bassist by accident.

The conversation was cut short by an older employee approaching our table, apron tied high over her robust hips, and she looked around at our motley crew before asking what we wanted to order. She had a gritty voice — tone so rough that I could visualize the sandpaper coating her vocal cords — but her kind, tired eyes showed through the otherwise roughened demeanor.

We took turns ordering and by the end of the ordeal, I debated submitting the waitress’s name for a Presidential Medal of Freedom for the sheer amount of patience she demonstrated with a group of overly drunk adults.

Thomas and Des had decided to share a fairly large breakfast platter and a ginger ale (and due to the queasy look on Des’ face when Thomas ordered it, I imagined that most of the food would be sanctioned to Thomas while the ginger ale was her futile attempt to even out the alcohol-to-stomach acid ratio in her gut). Mark insisted on a burger, and Greg had (almost too quickly) insisted on an entire chocolate silk pie. The drummer, who I was now certain was named Vince, stuck with the carafe of coffee we had requested, while I ordered French toast and extra crispy bacon. I had jokingly requested it to be nearly cremated, which did not amuse the waitress. Mary stuck with pancakes.

As the waitress bustled off to ring in our food, Greg raised an eyebrow at Vince.

“You’re going to try to eat my pie, huh, asshole?” He said disbelievingly.

The drummer shrugged and leaned back in the booth. “Ask me nicely enough and I’ll eat your ass, too,” he said with a wink, puckering his lips for a kiss before earning a swift shove in the shoulder and what I swore sounded like a “fuck you”. I heard Mary and Mark laugh and I couldn’t help the chuckle that seeped past my lips.

Feeling a little bolder after settling down with our anything-but-ordinary group, I leaned a couple inches closer to Mary, our height difference putting my cheek close to his jaw.

“Never pegged you as a pancake man, Mary.” I said quietly enough for him to hear (or at least I had hoped). “It’s oddly endearing.” I smirked at him from his side, flashing my own grey eyes with a snarky glance.

Mary raised his eyebrows with near mock disapproval. “Almost as endearing as you giving post mortem instructions for your breakfast side,” he quipped, his own stare never leaving mine as he fumbled with the paper tie on his silverware.

“At least I didn’t order something with a face on it,” I shot back, referring to the whipped cream and strawberry smiley face that came with every stack of pancakes.

Mary shrugged. “Cremation tends to get rid of the face, doesn’t it? I’m sure your order had one at one point.”

I shot him a glare that bordered on playful and somewhat offended, and before I could even open my mouth to retort, the waitress returned with a large carafe of drip coffee and enough mugs for each of us, announcing that she would be back with Des’ ginger ale in a moment. Vince all but tackled Greg to get to it, knocking elbows as he quickly filled up his cup. The acidic, distinct smell drifted across the table to settle between us, and after Greg poured his own mug, I filled a couple for Mary and I.

Vince took a sip of the blackened liquid in his mug and almost groaned, while Greg shook his head, adding a packet of sugar to his own. “Oh, hey, Mary,” Greg began, “you think you could fill in on bass on Wednesday when we play at The Shredder? Pete has to work and if he calls out again, he’ll get fired.”

Mary took a sip from his own steaming mug. “Can’t man,” he said.

Vince looked past me to Mary, leaning forward a bit over the table, “Fuck, why not?” he asked.

Mary shrugged and looked down at his cup. “I have plans.”

Greg raised his eyebrow at Mary. “Dude,” he began, his tone growing a little more combative and most definitely annoyed, “if you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I fuckin told you man, I’m busy.” Mary’s voice was now somewhat louder as he leaned forward to peer around me and back at the two bandmates, his sandy hair falling like a curtain over his left side as if to unknowingly shield other tables from the conversation.

I could feel the tension building between the three men. In my still drunken haze, I reached forward to grab a single-serve plastic container of coffee creamer and stabbed the paper top with my fork.

“Can’t you reschedule or something? This is important. We can’t cancel this gig,” Vince pleaded, his own tone much more reserved, and if anything, a little desperate.

“Sorry, I don't know what to fucking tell you,” Mary started, lifting his hands up halfway in the air as if to punctuate his point, his annoyance now glaringly obvious.

I could feel the anxiety at the conflict rising in my chest as he spoke. In the middle of his sentence, I had turned the creamer cup upside down and squeezed it into my coffee, four streams of the thick, room temperature dairy squirting audibly into my cup. “Mooooooooo!” I droned out in a low tone as I roughly milked the container like an udder.

“-I can’t exactly fucking reschedule my mom’s birthday- why the fuck are you mooing?!” Mary’s gaze shot over to me as he interrupted himself, a look of frustration painted on his features.

I didn’t exactly know what to say, so I kept my widened eyes locked on his, fingers still kneading the plastic creamer as it let its last few drops into the mug. A round of snickers bordered the table at this and I licked my lips and swallowed.

“Just, uh…breaking the tension…” I murmured, folding my lips under my teeth in defeat.

Luckily, Vince’s voice sliced through Mary and I’s tense moment. “…you’re missing a show for your mom’s birthday?” He looked at Mary as if he had grown another head and chuckled incredulously at him.

Thomas, who has been chatting with Mark and Des on the other side of the table, must have overheard this as he suddenly cut in with a serious retort. “Don’t talk shit on Mary’s mom, man. She’s fucking rad.” His face stretched into a defensive scowl as he turned to Vince.

Mark, who had decided to finally get his own mug of brew, quickly poured the rest of the carafe into the final mug. Thomas must have gotten his own cup earlier. “She helped out when they couldn’t afford some of their gear,” he explained emptying some creamer into the now cooling coffee, sans mooing, “used to drive us to shows when we were younger, too.”

I knew that Mary and Thomas definitely went back a ways, but I had no idea they had been friends for that long. Even more surprising was that Mark was also included in their history. I suppose I had assumed that they would have all been in the same band if they had been close for so many years, which even in my intoxicated state, I realized was ridiculous.

Tail between his legs, Vince mumbled something to the effect of “let us know if something changes” and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he drank from his chipped mug, eyes cast down at the stained laminate.

The table grew awkwardly silent for a quick beat, which luckily was broken as the elderly waitress sauntered over with a couple of large, oval-shaped plates in hand. She set down what appeared to be the greasiest burger I’d ever laid eyes on right in front of Mark. Thomas and Des’ shared heaping breakfast platter of eggs, bacon, and hash landed at their place setting and Des (who looked notably less queasy) quickly snatched a triangle of sourdough toast to munch on. I took the opportunity to break the ice with Mary while everyone was distracted by the wafting aroma of diner food.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s sweet of you,” I said softly as I leaned in, just close enough so that he could hear my compliment. I looked up at him and flashed him a softened smile.

Mary looked at me with a millisecond of surprise before his own features relaxed a bit, and I swore I could see a hint of a redness creep onto his cheeks. I filed away to save for later - I had made the infamous Mary Goore blush.

“What are you getting your mom for her birthday, Goore?” Des’ mouth smacked on her toast as she all but sputtered out the words. Yep, I thought, looks like she’s feeling better enough to pry. The girl may be hot, but she wasn’t always the most couth.

Mary ran a hand through his hair, raking his fingers through to the nape of his neck. “No clue” he sighed, “she’s fucking difficult to shop for.”

“Why don’t you just make her something?” Des replied, crumbs dotting her lips and threatening to fly as she chewed.

Mary let out a chuckle and grinned in response. “I gave up on the macaroni crafts years ago,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Des rolled her eyes and reached over to grab a strip of bacon from the breakfast platter, earning her a side-eye from Thomas. “I meant, like, dinner,” she clarified.

The waitress returned with Greg’s pie and a stack of small plates. She sat down the pie in the middle of the table and Vince reached towards it, Greg slapping his hand as he swooped in to scoot the pie closer to him. He waved his hand as if to say “we won’t need those” as the waitress tried to set the dessert plates on the table.

Mary shook his head at Des. I couldn’t tell if he was used to Greg’s antics or if he just wasn’t paying attention. “Already have that part covered. We do Chinese takeout every year. Birthday tradition.”

By now, Thomas was stuffing eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and I was impressed with Des’ fortitude in keeping a straight face at the sight. “Dessert?” he said after swallowing.

“Just make her a cake or something,” Mark added, dipping a fry in the ketchup slathered on Thomas’ eggs.

“Or a pie!” Greg added. I turned to my right to see him with an abnormally large slice of chocolate silk in his hand, filling and chocolate shavings dripping down his fingers as he began to chomp at it like a slice of pizza. This was apparently the line for Des — she looked at him with an expression of pure disgust— something short lived as her face seemingly lit up with an idea.

“Doll could help you!” Des waved the stub of bacon at Mary, before motioning it towards me. “She’s great at baking.”

Mark groaned in delight, eyes rolling up at the ceiling dramatically. “That cake you made Tommy was killer. Are you sure you didn’t put crack in it?”

This earned a genuine laugh from me, and I took a small sip of my now cooled coffee. “The only powder I fuck with is sugar,” I jest.

“Seriously, Mary, you should have Dahlia help you,” Des said soberingly, earnestness etched in her voice, “This is her wheelhouse.”

This time, it was my cheeks that began to flush. She wasn’t wrong. I had spent years honing my baking skills and often used them to cope with stress or as a way to show my love for friends and family. Hell, I’d made her more snickerdoodles than I’d like to count. Despite this, I still felt a deep discomfort at my talents being broadcast in front of a table of much more talented musicians. I’d always longed to have a “real” talent — one I could hang my hat on at the end of the day — but whatever higher power that existed (if one existed) decided to grant me the power of edible chemistry. To humor me, they also added a slow metabolism and abysmal self-control.

I paused for a couple of seconds before turning my head to look at Mary. He had been staring at me, for how long I wasn’t sure, but I drank in the strands of hair that framed his sharp jaw peppered in stubble, tracing the line of his strong brow bone that seemed to mellow whenever I tried to study the meaning behind his eyes. I wet my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue before casting him a small smile, hoping he’d pick up on the telepathic signal that of course I’d be happy to help, and curl my fingers around the pitted ceramic glaze of my mug.

He returned the look, and for a moment, I felt as if my guts were melting into my ass. I’d been staring, AGAIN, and not only had he caught me, but he seemed to be figuring out just how to make my knees weak as he spoke. “Yeah, maybe.”

Much to my relief, the waitress came back once more, nearly out of breath as she plopped my french toast down in front of me. She muttered out an apology and explained that a few more tables had arrived and they were understaffed. Mary’s plate came next, sliding across the smooth surface of the table as it landed inches from the edge.

I grabbed a crisp piece of bacon and chomped down on it as I looked at Mary’s stack of flapjacks. The once beaming face of fruit and whipped cream had turned into an almost unrecognizable blob of melted goo and droopy berries that weirdly resembled Sloth from The Goonies, only incapacitated. A giggle bubbled up from my stomach and I clasped a hand onto Mary’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur in his ear.

“Looks like yours is ready for post-mortem care, afterall, Goore.”

🜏🜏🜏

A few days and a pounding hangover later, I lazed on my living room couch with a homemade smoothie in one hand and my phone in the other. My cat, Bones, was perched in my lap as I listened to the light rain pelting the window pane across the room. It was a lights-off kind of evening. Although it was still bright enough for some of the glow to filter in through the glass, it was dim in the small front room, and I felt it the perfect ambiance for comfortable socks and silent scrolling. Nights like these weren’t made for the radiant glow of TV against the walls.

To put it simply, today was shit. My coworker, who was habitually late to arrive, showed up hours late to work with not as much as a peep as to why. Though I wasn’t the kind of person to continuously cover for her irresponsible ass, I knew that if both our responsibilities weren’t done by the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter who arrived on time and who arrived late: we’d both be fucked. So, in true pushover fashion, I sped through both of our laundry lists of tasks in remarkable time. The clock was pushing 4PM when I finally sat down to shove a KIND bar in my mouth as some sort of respite meal.

After any other difficult day at work, I’d likely be downing a glass of wine or sucking the life out of my vape pen, but the taste of this past weekend still hung heavy on my tongue and threatened to turn my stomach every time I thought of it. I’d seriously contemplated skipping dinner and going straight to bed. Still, my grandmother’s voice hung heavy in the back of my mind as I passed the fridge and I begrudgingly plopped some frozen fruit, spinach, yogurt, and juice into my blender. If I didn’t have the energy to cook my meal, I’d just have to liquify it.

As Bones purred aimlessly in my lap, I rubbed my feet together in circles, enjoying the feel of my cotton socks on my sore soles and the comfort of the throw pillow tucked haphazardly underneath them. I swiped past various poems, artwork, and occult content on my screen, sipping my green drink intermittently, and tried to mollify my anxious (and still very much frustrated) mind. Unexpectedly, my phone vibrated, a message popping up in the notification bar on my screen from an unrecognized number.

hey

I crinkled my eyebrows and opened the text message. There was no history of a conversation and a quick search of my contacts turned up nothing. I contemplated just ignoring it, but I could see the unmistakable three dots dancing underneath the text.

is that offer still open?

I rolled my lips over my teeth in thought and wracked my brain to try to think about what the mystery person was referring to. Nothing came to mind. I quickly typed out and sent a response.

Who is this?

Again, the three dots flashed - this time just briefly before the sender replied.

Mary

All the progress I’d made in stilling the stressed leech feeding in the pit of my stomach instantaneously vanished. Mary and I weren’t really on texting terms. We’d seen each other around more than a handful of times since the first night we officially met at Thomas’ house party. Yes, we’d gotten to know each other in ways that I didn’t know my other friends, but in no way were we close. We didn’t make any efforts to see each other — especially just the two of us. Just like Mary said during our roof rendezvous: we were two people engaging in some platonic head. There were no feelings, no complications, and no expectations. Still, just the thought of exchanging words back and forth made my chest palpate and my muscles tense. Why the fuck am I anxious right now? I found myself thinking. I let out a slow breath, shook my head, and tapped out a response, his own lighting up my screen a split second later.

Oh hey. Which offer?

The baking one. For my moms birthday It’s cool if you cant

I barely realized the smile pulling at the corners of my lips. Mary hadn’t seemed that interested when we talked about it at the diner. I felt a tug of pride swell deep within me that he’d reach out to me privately for help with something important to him.

I can help. Are you wanting a cake? Orrrr

Yea sure

Flavor?

Shit I didn’t think about that. Ummmm Not chocolate

I let out an audible snort at his answer. From the little I’d gotten to know about Mary, he wasn’t one to extrapolate.

Very specific, Goore. Thanks.

Her birthday is Wed. When should I be over there to help and what do you want me to bring?

I stared at the screen for a minute and chewed at the chapped skin forming on my bottom lip to quell the flop of the smoothie in my stomach. I’d just assumed that Mary had wanted me to make the cake for him, but no, he wanted me to help him make it. The two of us. And apparently, at my place.

I opened the calendar app on my phone and scrolled through Tuesday to confirm I hadn’t committed to anything else before shakily sighing and typing out a text back.

Tomorrow at 5? I have everything here.

Cool. Address?

394 Rosway

See ya then

I plopped the phone down on the cushion space beside me and inwardly groaned. This would be the first time that I’d be intentionally meeting with him alone. I hadn’t really hung out with a guy in a pre-planned way since I’d been with Brody. Each time Mary and I had been around each other, the night had started with another purpose in mind, another social reason to share the same space.

Bones chirped from my lap, his yellow eyes nearly glowing up at me as he studied my response in the muted evening light. Had I known any better, he was using the moment to comment on my reaction.

“It’s just a friend helping out a friend. I’d do the same for Des,” I said, reaching out to pet his soft fur before quickly adding, “-or Thomas, for that matter.”

Bones exhaled, his arms reaching out in a stretch with claws curled before spiraling into a sleeping position, chin resting on my thigh. I followed suit, sinking back into the comfort of the couch cushions that enveloped me, shutting my eyes as my smoothie glass found its way to the side table. It took a conscious effort to bat away at the butterflies rounding about in my gut. I didn’t know why my body was reacting this way. Friendships with guys weren’t a new concept to me, and that’s what this was — a friendship. One still in its infancy.

Nevertheless, snapshots like movie stills stretched across my closed eyelids. My dress hugging Mary’s thighs as he moved his fingers inside me. His hand clasped against my mouth as he purred out “Shhh,” emerald eyes hooked on my own slate ones. My legs squeezing the sides of his head, golden brown locks of his hair brushing past my thighs as I came undone on his mouth. His spend dripping down my thr-

I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge.

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off.

🜏🜏🜏

I’d managed to leave work a whopping ten minutes earlier than I’d expected to, which I’d hoped was enough to allot extra time to take a shower before Mary stopped by. Luckily, working through lunch had actually allowed me to leave my job an hour earlier than usual, so I was ahead of schedule. I’d managed to make a strawberry filling for the cake before I’d left earlier this morning, and I’d crossed my fingers multiple times throughout the day hoping that it’d be set enough to use by the time he arrived.

After filling Bones’ bowl with kibble and tossing my keys on the counter, I kicked off my shoes and beelined to the bathroom. I glanced down at the clock on my phone. 4:30. I only had a half hour.

Tying my hair up in a claw clip, I stepped into the steam of the shower and soaped up in a matter of minutes. After a quick shave and final rinse, I stepped out, dried off, and reapplied some basic makeup before unclipping my tresses.

I ran my fingers through the strands to release the few tangles that had gathered throughout the day and made my way back into my bedroom to scout my closet for something to wear. I found myself flipping through the hangers of dresses before stopping myself. I had zero reason to dress up. I was baking, afterall, and this wasn’t a date or a social outing. I opted for a pair of black leggings and an old Misfits tee, leaving my feet bare.

The next fifteen minutes began with me setting out the ingredients and baking tools we’d need, but my flow was continuously interrupted by my mind’s need to tidy the house. After the fifth interruption, I scolded myself. You’re not inviting the damn Queen to dinner, Doll. I shook my head and threw the shoes I’d absentmindedly picked up back in the living room. A living room needed to look lived in, after all — and the dishes in the sink could go fuck themselves.

A knock on the door brought me back from my mental argument and I padded through the short hallway with a withheld breath to unlock it. Beyond the oak entryway stood Mary in a ripped Carcass tee, jeans, his infamous leather jacket, and Chuck Taylors, his hair falling around his shoulders in messy light brown waves. His left hand clutched onto a couple of grocery bags, while his right was miraculously slid into the tight confines of his studded pocket.

“Hey,” I stepped to the side and shot him a quick warm smile. “Come on in.”

Mary made his way through the threshold and I clicked the heavy door shut behind him, turning to watch him take in his surroundings. His hand still shoved in his pocket, I studied his reaction to my small home, the bag hung around his wrist swishing slightly as he scanned his head from left to right.

The house I occupied was fairly small — just about 1,000 square feet — and was old. I didn’t mind the size. On the contrary, it was the perfect set up for a single person and I felt that the old cottage feel gave the home character. The breezeway into the house was short and opened up to the left into the quaint living room. Just past the end of the living area, a doorway led straight ahead into a dinette attached to an open kitchen poised on the left, while a doorway at the right opened up into a hallway that turned to the bedrooms and bathroom.

“This place is yours?” He asked before craning his neck to look at me.

I nodded. “Yep. Just me.” I went to shove my hands in my own pockets before remembering that I’d chosen leggings and awkwardly sliding them down my thighs as if I’d totally meant for it to happen. “Well, and Bones,” I added as I felt the black feline rub up against my ankle.

Mary crouched down and offered his hand out to the cat, who tentatively sniffed it, whiskers twitching, before slowly approaching the leather-clad man. Bones rubbed his cheek against the outstretched hand and let out a soft purr when Mary began scratching under the feline’s cheek. My mind flashed back to our conversation as we’d walked from the convenience store to the roof that one night so many weeks ago, and my lips curled with nostalgia as warmth pooled in my gut. Mary wasn’t joking about being an animal person.

I realized that he was still holding the bags and I suddenly felt like a huge asshole and terrible host for not offering to help. “Here, let me grab those,” I said as I reached forward, taking the plastic bags before pivoting to move down the hallway. The bags were heavy. “What the hell did you bring, Goore?” I asked him lightly with a chuckle as I walked through the threshold to the kitchen area, plopping the bags on the countertop with an audible thunk.

Mary followed and came up beside me, battle jacket having been discarded and thrown somewhere in the living room, before pulling the plastic sheathing down to reveal two bottles of cheap red wine and a two liter of Coca Cola. While it suddenly made sense why the bags were so heavy, I still had no idea what his thinking was behind the combination of drinks.

“Red wine and Coke?” I questioned, turning to look at him quizzically.

Mary was balling up the plastic bags. “You’ve never heard of a calimocho?” He slid past me into the kitchen over to the sink and opened up one of the cupboards beneath, closing it quickly before snapping the next one open to find the trash can.

“...I can’t say I have.” I replied as he tossed the trash in and made his way back to the wide, open countertop, grabbing one of the bottles of wine. Luckily, he’d bought one with a twist-off top, so there was no need to worry about a cork. He mirrored the action with the bottle of Coke, and I shifted to grab a couple of tumbler glasses from the cabinet before filling them with ice.

I set down the glasses and watched as he poured in enough red wine to fill the glass about halfway in each. He topped both off with the cola and gave each a quick swirl before handing one off to me. I accepted the glass tentatively from him and lifted it to my nose. The smell was distinctly soda-like, but the earthy, sweet, spiciness of the wine came through as I took a large inhale.

“The last time I trusted your drink-making choices, Mary, the result was a watery beer in a leaky gas station cup,” I said as I lowered the glass from my nose.

Mary scoffed. “That was an impulse buy. This is a real drink - one of my Basque buddies introduced me to them a few years back.” He reached out his cup and clinked it against mine, causing a bead of the liquid to drip down over his rough fingertips. I felt a pang of heat in my core as I thought about those fingers curling inside of me. Stop it, I scolded to myself.

We both took a sip and as soon as the drink hit my lips, I let out a surprised noise of delight. He wasn’t lying. It was ridiculously good. I took a small gulp before setting it back down on the counter. “Touche,” I admitted in defeat.

A quick beat passed as Mary leaned back against the counter, sipping his drink, and I shook my head and clasped my hands together awkwardly. “Right, so,” I took a few steps to the counter space that hugged the near wall, facing him, “I was thinking of a vanilla bean cake with buttercream frosting and strawberry filling. Is that okay?”

Mary shrugged, but I could sense that instead of his usual nonchalance, his posture insinuated trust. “You’re the expert. I defer to you.”

We both put our drinks to the side and washed our hands in the clean side of the sink (me trying not to imagine where those hands had been as the sudsy water slid over the chipped black paint that donned his fingernails) before setting up shop at the larger run of counter. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail with the spare tie on my wrist.

“Okay, so you have your dry ingredients and your wet ingredients,” I started, hand motioning to each pile of pre-organized ingredients that I’d set out for us.

“Are the dry ingredients hard to please or are the wet ones just perpetually horny?” he asked with a smirk. I shot him a look and he put his hands up to his chest in defense. “Just curious!”

I ignored the comment and grabbed a glass bowl to place in front of him, before playfully shoving a box of cake flour to his chest. “Put three cups of cake flour in here. Be sure to level each cup so they’re equal.”

Mary obeyed the instructions carefully, then added in the leavening ingredients and salt as I gave him directions for each, mixing them (albeit somewhat awkwardly) with a fork.

“Dry ingredients are done. Now for the wet-” I shot him another look when he wagged his eyebrows at me with a smirk, “-unwrap both of the sticks of butter and plop them in here.” I pointed to the mixing bowl, then moved the paddle attachment aside to give him room.

After the butter was added, Mary cautiously measured out the sugar and added it into the mixer. “I thought you said these were wet ingredients?” He questioned, pointing to the sugar. I let out a chuckle.

“They are. Sugar is considered a wet ingredient because of how it acts with moisture.” I could see another one-liner brewing behind his eyes, but he must have gotten the hint that I was at least trying to be serious, because he bit his tongue.

After showing Mary how to cream the sugar (“Gently - I don’t need to scrub chunks of butter off the walls!”) I watched in amusement as Mary tried to crack each egg without getting shells into the batter, a litany of curses following each egg as he had to fish the slippery pieces out with pinched fingers. Some vanilla bean paste and almond flavoring later, and we were ready to combine.

“Okay, so we’re going to add the dry ingredients and the buttermilk in batches,” I said, turning my head to pick up the carton of buttermilk. As I looked away to grab the last ingredient, Mary dumped the flour into the mixing bowl and turned on the mixer, bumping the lever to full speed.

A cloud of flour poofed up into the air, swirling around the both of us as if a midwestern tornado, and I fought the urge to cough as I tasted the salty baking soda that coated my lips. I flung forward and shut the mixer off.

Turning around, I saw Mary shaking out his shirt with a guilt-ridden grin. A light dusting of the dry mixture coated his cheeks and brows, with some of it clinging to his hair. I let out a puff of air to blow the flour-smattered strand of hair from my eyes and looked at him with a seething glare that did a piss-poor job of hiding my amusement.

“You’ve lost mixer privileges.”

Ten minutes and a quick sweep later, the batter was finished and poured into three round cake pans. After throwing them into the oven and setting the timer, we dusted ourselves off a little more thoroughly, grabbed our drinks, and headed to the living room to wait.

I sunk into the right side of my plush brown couch with a large exhale, Mary rounding the other side of the couch to follow. Plopping my feet up on the coffee table, I leaned back, head rolling to the side to look at the metalhead next to me.

I was expecting to meet his eyes, but instead, he was taking in the decor of my living room. The walls were a jewel-toned green (a painting project that Des and I took on a couple of years back) and the furniture, which was nearly all old and thrifted, contrasted the cool tones with warm wood and brass accents. An out-of-commission fireplace sat just in front of us, while a line of bookshelves stood soldier-straight against the right side of the back wall. A bar cabinet and plant shelves hugged the far right side of the room, while the left side held a series of paned windows floating above an old record cabinet.

As Mary surveyed the room, I chewed on my lip, trying to drink in his reaction. His eyes roamed across the various paintings and prints I had hung on the walls, some of a more occult nature, while some boasted a more classic mix of impressionist influences. When he saw the record cabinet, he popped up and over, sitting cross-legged as he started to thumb through the crate of records beside it.

“Quite the mix you’ve got here,” He said as he held up a Carpenters record with a smirk. I chuckled and nodded, turning to face him as I snuggled into the arm of the couch.

“I like a lot of different types of music. Some of those are inherited, some I bought.”

I took a sip of my calimocho and watched as Mary perused the collection, stopping as he pulled out an Alice Cooper record. I nodded towards the turntable as if to say “go ahead.”

With Billion Dollar Babies playing in the background, Mary popped back onto the couch, converse skating across the tip of the coffee table as he leaned back with a sigh. My head was still turned to him, fingertips clutching the sweaty tumbler glass, and I took in the curve of his eyelashes and slope of his cheekbones.

Other than the sounds emitting from the turntable, it was oddly quiet. Time with Mary was usually filled with easy conversation, but I was having trouble knowing exactly what to say. He must have picked up on this because he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me, smirking.

“Do I still have shit in my hair or something?” he asked as he caught my stare.

“Shut up,” I laughed, reaching over to throw a pillow at him. The tension seemed to break as he laughed, throwing the pillow back at me playfully. I smiled at him and brought my legs to criss-cross underneath me.

Mary took a sip of his drink before setting it back on the coffee table. “Thanks for, uh, this. All this.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck somewhat nervously.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s what friends do.” Reaching down, I dusted a little smear of leftover flour from my knee and continued. “She seems really special to you. Your mom, I mean.”

Mary mirrored my posture by turning to face me a little more head on. “Yeah, she is. She’s fucking great.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back a little, moving his legs from the table to cross one ankle over his knee. “She’s never been anything but supportive. Even when I fucked up. Or when I was too stubborn to listen to her.”

I cast him an encouraging smile, a look of both understanding and empathy on my face. “Just the two of you then?”

“Yeah,” Mary said with a sigh, reaching over to take another long drink of his calimocho. “Dad died when I was young.”

My eyes widened a little at this admission and my expression fell to one of concern. “I’m sorry. That’s-” I let out a shaky exhale, “...that’s really shitty.” I didn’t do well with death. I never knew how to comfort those who’d lost someone important to them. I mentally cursed myself for such a bland response, but Mary didn’t seem to mind.

“Eh, shit happens.” he swirled the half empty tumbler glass, ice cubes clinking against the cool shell. “Besides,” he shot me a playful smirk, “it left me with just the right amount of daddy issues to farm sympathy from hot chicks with nice tits and a penchant for leather.”

My face dropped for a split second before I let out an incredulous and obviously uncomfortable laugh. “Jesus Christ, Mary. What the fuck.”

He laughed and raised an eyebrow at me in response, taking another sip of his drink before standing up. “Refill?” he asked. I nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen to pour us another round.

As I reclined a bit, my vision moved to study the patterns that danced across the painted plaster of the ceiling. Mary was starting to open up to me (even if it was in his usual “sarcastic Mary” way). I wondered if that meant there was an expectation that I also open up to him, or if sharing anything too personal would scare him off. He already knew about my bad breakup with Brody, but the majority of our conversations centered around music, movies, and our mutual connections.

Mary gently clunked my glass against the top of my head to alert me that he was back, and I grabbed it with a small thank you. This time, he plopped down a little closer to me — our legs brushing up against each other — and I felt the skin prickle underneath the fabric of my leggings.

“So, how’d you score such nice digs?” he asked, his right arm coming up to rest across the back of the sofa.

I looked down at the ice in the cup. He must have replenished it, because the cubes were bigger, and each breath I took seemed to shake them just barely within the cup. “I inherited it,” I began, “From my grandma. She left it to me in her will when she passed.”

“No shit?”

“It’s been a point of contention in the family ever since.” I paused for a moment, trying to hide the sad smile that automatically painted the corners of my lips. “But I like it. It’s perfect for just me. I don’t have to worry about a house payment, and I’ve been able to transform it into my own space over time.”

Mary’s tone sobered a little as he shifted in his place on the sofa. “Do you like living alone?”

I pinched my brow in thought for a brief moment. “Most times,” I let out a breath. “It does get lonely. Des used to practically live here, but she’s got her own thing going now — which, good for her, of course — so… it’s just me most of the time.”

Mary leaned back a little, body still facing my own as he looked up and craned his head around to gaze at the decorated walls. “I’d love to have my own place. No one to clean up after except yourself. Walk around naked. Put shit wherever you want.” He stretched out his legs to rest on the coffee table once more. “I room with Mark and he can be a huge dick sometimes,” as if to make a point, he pointed the glass towards me, finger aimed dramatically, “and he snores.”

I let out a laugh and felt that warm, comfortable joy that Mary seemed to bring with him creep back into my stomach. “You’re welcome over here anytime you feel the urge to put a pillow over his face while he sleeps.”

Mary chuckled. “Cool, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Shifting in my seat to bring my legs underneath me, I took a long gulp of my drink, now feeling the buzzing effects of the red wine. I’d drunk enough that I was past the point of feeling drowsy and had safely arrived at feeling loosely confident. “Not to disappoint,” I started, a smirk blooming across my lips, “but I don’t walk around the house naked.”

“That’s easy to fix. You’ve already got the ‘put shit wherever you want’ part down pat.” Mary motioned towards the pair of shoes that I’d thrown earlier that sat towards the wall and I felt myself bristle, a touch of embarrassment coloring the apples of my cheeks (or maybe that was the wine?)

“Wow, asshole. Thanks for pointing out my flaws as I do you a favor.” I tugged my thumb backwards to motion towards the kitchen behind me, doing my best to ignore the innuendo he clearly wanted me to catch.

The long-haired man in front of me leaned to the side to set his glass on the coffee table, kicking his feet off as he snaked his body closer to mine. “Sorry,” he began, legs adjusting as he started to close the distance between us, the volume of his voice lowering in both pitch and volume, “let me make it up to you.”

Mary’s hand reached out to clasp right above my knee, his thumb pressing into the meat of my leg just enough to drive home his point. By now I could feel his exhales dancing across the pores of my lightly freckled skin. It seemed that things had gone from zero to sixty in mere seconds. I lightly swallowed and my eyes traced a path across the Carcass logo hugging his chest and up his neck, landing on the lips that were now dangerously taunting me.

I didn’t realize that I had been inclining towards him as well until his free hand grasped onto the back of my neck, my hair catching between his fingers as he pulled us together. Immediately, I noticed the tang of the Coke and wine on his lips and caught the faint smell of smoke lingering in his hair from a hours-past cigarette.

A noise that was somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a whimper tumbled from my throat, just barely audible as it escaped into his own mouth, and I brought my hand to curl across the curve of his shoulder, thumb pressed to his fabric-covered collarbone. Nearly as soon as our lips met, he pulled away, but before I could complain, he dove back in with a tilt, opening his mouth to swipe his tongue across the soft bend of my bottom lip.

As we kissed on the couch, his thumb now curving around to press lightly on the side of my throat as he gripped my neck, the world seemed to pause in time. I was completely consumed by his taste, the feel of his fingertips against my skin, and the aggressive need that both of us breathed as our movements became more hurried.

Mary’s right hand began to travel up the expanse of my leg, inching along to rest against the curve of my hip and ass, and I felt fire shoot through my ribcage as he squeezed the flesh there. Without another thought, both of my hands moved to slip underneath his shirt and dance along the skin underneath, warm and surprisingly soft against my fingertips.

With a loud jolt, the timer to the oven began to sing, causing me to jump and Mary to pull away simultaneously. I cleared my throat just barely and raked my hand through my hair. “Timer to the, uh — cakes are ready to be taken out.”

I sprang up and into the kitchen to turn the blaring alarm off. Luckily, a quick test of the pans showed that each cake was almost perfectly cooked. I pulled them out and set them on the range to cool, tossing the tea towel I’d used as a potholder aside as I turned to face Mary, who’d followed me into the kitchen.

“We, um, need to make the frosting while they cool,” I explained, motioning back toward the mixer.

I couldn’t quite decipher the look on Mary’s face. He clearly wasn’t flustered by the quick makeout on the couch. In fact, he looked oddly composed, if not a little arrogant at my excitement.

Pulling out a spare mixing bowl, I gestured towards the makeshift workstation with a slight swing of my head. Mary came up behind me and rested a hand on the countertop, caging me in.

“You’ll want to add in both sticks of butter,” I said as I wet my lips, handing him the two sticks. He unwrapped them and plunked them into the bowl. As I turned it on, one of his hands came to rest on my hip, the other returning to the countertop.

“What next?” His lips were just a couple of inches from my ear, eyes cast forward as he watched the rotating paddle.

“V-vanilla,” I stammered out as I felt his fingertips squeeze at the meat of my hip. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. He picked up the vanilla and one of the measuring spoons, waiting until I nodded in response to his guess at the amount before letting it drizzle into the whirling mixer.

His other hand grasped the other hip before traveling down my thigh, grasping onto the front as he twirled his wrist inward to dance between my legs. “...and then?”

My arm jutted out as if in reflex to grab the bag of powdered sugar resting against the backsplash. “Dry- urm - w-wet ingredients.”

“Hmm,” his voice now sounded arguably more sultry — reminiscent of when he was shushing me on the couch with his fingers deep inside me — and I felt a shiver run down the length of my spine. “I’d help, but I lost mixer privileges. Maybe you should show me how to do it?”

I nodded and dumped half the bag in, pulsing the speed so as to not recreate Mary’s cloud from earlier, and waited a beat before pouring the rest in, repeating the motion. Once it combined, I drizzled some heavy cream in, fighting the urge to slam my eyelids shut at the chuckle that fluttered across my neck as Mary fought the urge to undoubtedly make a cum joke.

Careful not to elbow him, I scraped the sides of the bowl and mixed in the last bits of the dry powdered sugar before detaching it and setting it aside. Slowly, I turned around in his arms and looked up at him. The iconic Mary smirk was permanently etched into his face. I could tell he was having a field day with my reaction to him, and I cursed my inability to keep my shit together in front of the bullet-belted thrasher in front of me.

It was silent for what seemed like ages but in reality was probably a few seconds. I half expected Mary to resume what we’d started on the couch, but after staring directly into my soul, he pushed back and dusted his hands before shoving them in his pocket.

“Alright, what’s next?” he said coolly.

I nearly glared at him. Instead, I took a mental breath and grabbed the frosting, shoving it a little harder than I’d intended to into his chest.

“The part you’re best at: getting frosting everywhere.”

Mary beamed.

🜏🜏🜏

Mary continued his cool demeanor as we leveled the cakes, only breaking slightly when I gave him a piece of the scraps and he nearly moaned at the taste with a “Fuck, I made this?”

I showed him how to set and frost each layer, and when I turned around to grab the strawberry filling out of the fridge, I pretended not to see him swiping a taste of the frosting out of the bowl. Moments later, the cake was filled, the crumb-coat was completed and briefly chilled in the freezer, and I was showing Mary how to put on the final coat of frosting.

He stood at the counter with the icing spatula in hand, rubbing the frosting against the side of the cake gingerly. I almost snorted at his dainty touch and reached around him, my front to his back as I grabbed his hand and directed it against the confection.

“You can be more forceful. It’s not a porcelain doll.”

Mary shot me a smug look. “Is that a subtle way of telling me you don’t like it rough, dollface?”

I felt the familiar pang of heat at my insides and I fought back another groan before realizing the compromising position we were in. Taking matters into my own hands, I gripped onto his wrist a little more forcefully, pushing myself up against him as I peered around his height at the cake.

“Not everything needs a delicate hand, Goore.” I snapped back, pushing his hand with the knife down to evenly coat the side of the cake, my other hand wrapping around him to turn the cake plate. As much as he tried to act unbothered, I could feel his breath pick up as my leg brushed against the back of his.

We finished the final coat and I handed him the remaining strawberry filling, watching with amusement as he pooled it on top of the cake, letting it drip down the sides while commenting on how it wouldn’t be from him if it didn’t look at least slightly bloodied (which, to be fair, earned him a solid laugh from me).

“Voila,” I said, standing back with my hands on my hips. Mary mirrored my action and I felt a soft warmth in my chest as I watched his proud reaction. “I’ll be right back to help move it into the fridge. Just give me a sec.”

I popped down the short hallway to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Leaning over the vanity, I looked at myself in the mirror and studied my features. There was still a tiny bit of flour at the back of my scalp, and my leggings had a smattering of white fingerprints across them. Reaching down, I rinsed my hands with cool water before splashing some on my neck and drying it with a cool towel. This punk was going to be the death of me.

When I returned to the kitchen, Mary turned around abruptly, the frosting bowl in one hand while the other was scooping a finger full of frosting into his mouth.

“Go at it,” I chuckled, “You earned it.”

I met him in the kitchen and leaned back against the counter peninsula, arms crossed over my chest as I watched him with poorly hidden glee.

“Just had to make sure you’re not trying to poison my mother,” he reasoned, and I laughed again, shaking my head. “This is seriously fucking tits, Doll.”

I felt the heat tinge in my face again. “Thanks, Goore.”

He moved toward me, taking his finger to scoop a bit more frosting before setting the bowl down beside me, his body now inches from mine. He held out the icing covered finger just millimeters from my lips and I thought about his chipped polish digging into my thighs.

Parting my mouth, I dipped my tongue out just enough to lick at the tip of his finger before bringing it between my lips. He was right — the frosting was fantastic, but as I savored the sweet and salty creaminess that coated my tongue, I let my mind wander to how he tasted in my mouth not long ago as I lapped up the spend he shot down my throat. Maybe it was that thought that caused me to start sucking at his finger, eyes gazing doe-like upon his, while I swirled my tongue across his fingertip.

I could have sworn that I saw Mary’s emerald eyes physically burn as he watched me, moving from flirty to completely feral as he popped the finger from my mouth and dipped his head in, tongue tracing against the line of my bottom lip.

He pulled away, hunger still nearly evident as he grabbed onto the curve of my hipbone with his now frosting-free hand.

“I think I missed some.”

With that, he crashed his mouth into mine, this time much harder, and he immediately shifted to deepen the kiss and roll his tongue against my own. His hands moved down to box me into the countertop and I whined, snaking my own arms up to loop around his neck as I pulled him fervently into me.

All of my self-reserve clambered from my body. Despite feeling fairly sober from the mixed drinks, I knew my core had been poisoned with need — lust-drunk and willing. If Mary tried to take things further, there was no way I’d be able to resist.

Gripping the backs of my legs, Mary pulled me to sit up on the wide, open countertop, and used his knee to kick my legs open as he gripped onto my lower back, all but shoving me into his lean frame.

His hips rolled to grind against me and I let out a pleased hum against his lips. As my tongue danced against his own, lips moving as if in song, I could taste the saccharine proof of our time spent together, the vanilla mixing with an aftertaste of coke and wine and the flavor that was so distinctly Mary. I inhaled deeply against him through my nose, and felt my senses beam with the mix of smoke and his since shed-leather and my own growing arousal slick between my legs. I thought about his torso on top of mine, of the length I’d only felt in my mouth finally pumping into me, and my abdomen tensed at the vision painted behind my eyelids.

My legs moved to wrap around Mary’s middle and he growled before he broke the kiss just briefly to pull at the hem of my tee shirt to rip it over my head, my bra immediately following. My arms returned to his middle and I began to fumble with the clasp to his metal-adorned belt, struggling just briefly before I heard it fall to the floor with a loud, heavy clunk.

Mary took the opportunity to tear his own shirt off and toss it haphazardly behind him. Our lips came back together hungrily, nearly tearing at each other like we would wither without taking and giving and taking and giving, and I’m certain I almost broke the button to his jeans as I aggressively popped it open and ripped down the zipper fly.

Even with the painted-on tightness of his jeans, they were down his legs in record speed, and he reached a hand down to awkwardly pull on the laces to his converse before shaking and kicking both them and his pants off, earning a giggle from me against his lips. His hands returned to my sides and I felt the pads of his thumbs dig into my pelvic bones wantonly, aggressively. As if I wasn’t just Doll, but his doll.

Pulling back, I took in the sight of the man in front of me. My eyes flitted over the tattoos on each of his arms, raking over his shoulders and pecs as they trailed down his abdomen and to the trail of hair framing the waistband of his boxer briefs. This was the first time I’d seen him so exposed, skin on display, and I mirrored his feral gaze with my ashen eyes as I raked a hand through his golden brown locks, pulling him eagerly back to kiss me.

Mary’s fingers dipped into the waistband of my leggings and he began to roll them down, almost hesitantly as if asking silent permission, so I moved to grab onto the edge of the counter and lifted my lower half to allow him to push them, along with my panties, down past my ankles.

After I kicked the remaining clothing off my body, the cool air kissed at my skin, and I swallowed the feeling of exposure away while Mary closed the gap between us. I could feel his warmth as it tickled my goose-bumped flesh. His lips traveled down the line of my jaw to my neck, and I instinctively craned it to the side to allow him better access to the spot above my collarbone that made my knees putty. I could nearly feel myself dripping onto the counter beneath me, and his still-clothed cock twitched against my inner thigh.

“Mary?” I let out breathlessly, eyes still closed at the sensation of lips on skin.

He let out a low hum. “Mmm, dollface?”

I reached past the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped my hand around his shaft, holding it firmly before I started to stroke it. He let out a choked noise and I, myself, sputtered out, “Condom?”

Mary detached from my neck hastily and reached down to his jeans piled on the floor, rifling through the pockets until he found his wallet. I heard the unmistakable wrinkle of foil as he pulled the condom out, and I reached forward, snatching it from his hands eagerly before ripping it open. Mary shoved the fabric covering his cock down his legs, kicking them off mere seconds before I grabbed his length once more, expertly rolling the condom down to the base of him. His head dipped forward to my shoulder and he groaned out a breathy “fuck”.

Reaching between us with one hand, Mary grabbed his member from my grasp, his other hand pulling my hips closer as he slid the tip of himself against the wetness of my pussy. He flicked it up and down teasingly, and I whined out, hands coming to clasp at his neck.

My slick now coating him, Mary pushed my inner thigh to the side and lined himself up with my entrance before pushing in tantalizingly slow. It was as if he wanted me to feel each inch of him while he felt each clench of my muscles around him.

We both let out breaths we didn’t know we had been holding. Mary pushed in to the hilt and I let out a slight gasping noise, an intake of breath at the pure fullness and stretch of him, and my forehead came to rest against his as our lips all but brushed against one another.

“You are so goddamn tight,” he purred, pulling out halfway before sinking back into me. I uttered a moan, helpless and wanting, and he began moving more steadily in and out of my core. My legs wrapped tightly against his hips and backside and I finally connected our lips again, though the jolts of each of his thrusts served as distraction from my attempt to all but swallow him whole.

We moved like that, rhythmically at first before he picked up the pace, a hand coming to cup at my breast, thumb pressing at the nipple as he fucked me into the counter. My head unwillingly tipped back and though my eyes were open, my vision clouded with swirls of grays, purples, and fiery oranges at the heated sensations between my legs.

Mary grabbed my breast roughly before reaching up to pull my chin down, thumb on my lip as he looked me directly in the eyes. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grunted, his other hand gripping roughly just above my backside as he pulled me into his hard shaft. I looked down and saw my arousal gathering around the base of his dick and I bit my lip, feeling that tugging in my abdomen increase with every movement.

My hands moved to wrap under his arms, curling around his back as my fingers dug into the flesh there, half moon shapes and scratches likely patterning his skin as I held on like letting go would mean certain death.

On his next thrust, Mary shifted his hips up and grazed against my sensitive spot, resulting in an unrestrained cry of pleasure from deep in my lungs — a noise I didn’t know I was capable of making. I looked back into his eyes, my own threatening to water from complete overstimulation and ecstasy, and he used his free hand to rub over my mound. “Please,” I choked out, not above begging for him to slip his fingers against my clit.

His lips tugged into a devilish smirk, and the dark Mary that I’d heard whisperings about throughout town flashed before me. “You want me to touch you, babydoll?” he practically growled out. I nodded restlessly, biting my bottom lip as I held back another keening noise bubbling in my throat. “You promise to cum on my cock?” he asked, beginning to stroke the circumference around my clit as he maintained a powered look into my eyes.

“Yes,” I breathed out, swallowing roughly as I pushed my hips back against his to show my enthusiasm and obedience, “Yes, Mare, I promise.”

He grinned at the nickname I’d never before used and danced his thumb across my nub like a whisper before bearing down harshly, flicking it twice before shoving his hips roughly against mine in quick succession. My vocal cords all but melted from my throat as I groaned out, completely depraved and taken, and I squeezed my eyes tight at the sensation. Mary let out his own string of curses as I clamped down around him.

“S-so-...close,” I rasped out. He must have been too, as I could feel him increase his speed in his thrusting, his chipped black fingernails digging into the flesh of my backside as the other hand stroked me sloppily yet steadily. The pulling that had been building since our collision on the couch began to spill over, and I felt the electrical bolts spreading like lightning down each limb, across my scalp and to the tip of my nose. “Mary!” I shrieked out, my restraint betraying me, virtually screaming as I came undone around him.

As each part of my body tensed from my orgasm, Mary picked up speed, removing his hand from between my legs to grasp at my other hip, fucking into me with wild abandon. His own moans were nearly as loud as mine, and each movement burst starlight through my cunt. Mary’s body trembled, pelvis stuttering as I felt him twitch inside of me. Mere moments passed before I could feel his cock roughly kicking inside of my walls and for a split second, I wished that we’d forgone the condom so I could feel his spend as it coated me.

After a few more pumps to ride out his high, Mary leaned forward, hands bracing himself on the counter around me as his forehead rested against my shoulder. We were both breathing heavily, him more so, and I reached up to play with the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck, kissing against his shoulder.

He let out a breathy laugh and slid out of me. I could feel him pulling off the condom and tying it, but as he moved to throw it away, I caught his wrist and pulled him back into me.

“Stay for a second,” I asked, surprising even myself at the request. He humored me and ran a hand up my thigh to rest there, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Was this the real reason you came over?” I asked after a minute had passed, our breathing now somewhat evened and the chill of stillness pricking at the sweat on our bodies.

Mary shook his head. “It was just the icing on the cake.” He flashed a grin at me, and I groaned, slapping his chest playfully and earning an “ow, fuck” in return.

He stepped a few feet away to throw away the condom before returning, hands rubbing soothingly at my thighs as I tried to ignore the feeling of the edge of the countertop biting into my ass.

Extending his arm out, Mary brushed some of the scarlet hair matted to my damp forehead. I closed my eyes at the touch and allowed myself to smile at the sweet gesture. The smile was short lived, however, as I thought back to his joke.

“Fuck…” I said, eyes opening to stare back at him, “...we forgot to put the cake in the fridge.”

#mary goore x female character #mary goore x ofc #mary goore fanfic #mary goore #repugnant band #repugnant #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #repugnant fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing

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spilledbeans116 · 1 year

Text

Taking a Sick Day

(Raditz x Reader)

Raditz x fem!reader - 2,468 Words - SFW

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This fic was a request by an anonymous user! The prompt was as follows:

"Can I request a Raditz one-shot please? Where the reader is sick and he's taking care of her."

I did just that! You can imagine this as being part of the Princess Saga universe I suppose, minus Earth being fine. Otherwise it’s just an alternate saiyan AU! I hope you all enjoy!

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Raditz was pacing back and forth in his room, unsure of what to do. Kakarot was off-world doing who knows what, probably visiting Earth again or something stupid like that. The point was he wouldn’t pick up his scouter, and Raditz was running out of options. Nappa wasn’t answering either, leaving only one more person he could call. He shut his eyes tight as he placed his fingers upon the scouter, clicking the button twice as the transmission was sent out.

“The hell do you want?” Snapped the prince, sounding a bit breathless. A few grunts came from the other end and Raditz quickly realized he must be sparring or something similar.

“I need… help.” He replied weakly, running his hands through his hair.

Vegeta laughed at him, the sound slightly staticy through the scouter’s speakers. Raditz simply sighed, rolling his eyes as he waited for Vegeta to stop making fun of him. “Why the hell would I help you?”

“I- well-“ he groaned, kicking at the floor before flopping down on his couch. “I think she’s sick.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes, grunting again as he dodged the training bot’s laser attack. “You have to be more specific, dumbass.”

“You know…” Raditz grumbled, face heating up as he began to fidget with his hands, “her.”

“Oh right, your woman play-thing,” Vegeta gagged.

“Hey, don’t call her that!” Raditz yelled.

“Watch your tone with me!” Vegeta yelled back before continuing, “Is she your girlfriend yet?”

Raditz paused, “well not technically I haven’t asked her yet and-“

Vegeta sighed, “get to the point Raditz.”

“I don’t know what to do!”

He could practically hear the way Vegeta rolled his eyes, “go take care of her?”

“Yeah, but how? And what if I get sick?”

Vegeta actually stopped training for a moment, wondering if he was actually dealing with this right now. The moment was over as soon as it happened, however, as he was almost zapped by another attack. “Don’t be such a baby and bring her soup or something you idiot!”

“What if she doesn’t like soup!”

Vegeta grit his teeth, “then pick something else! She’s your girlfriend damn it!” At that the call ended, and Raditz rolled his head back into the couch cushions.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he huffed. What the hell was he supposed to do?

——

What the hell were you going to do? You felt awful; so awful that awful was an understatement. You weren’t sure if this was a common cold being taken to the extreme from lack of rest, or perhaps it had never been a cold to begin with and you picked up some virus while out on a mission last week. The point was you were running a high fever and your nose was running like a waterfall.

Your body ached, worse than training with the boys always felt. It felt as though your skin was on fire, and lounging around in just a t-shirt and underwear still felt as if you were covered in winter clothing. Your tail hung limp behind you as you weakly made your way to the fridge, needing to get something to drink.

You felt awful having to cancel on Raditz yesterday. Hopefully he understood that you just weren’t up for going off-world, as excited as you had both been for it. The last thing you wanted was to get him sick or simply overdo it and get worse.

You felt like you were hallucinating when there was a knock at the door and you stopped to stare at it for a moment, tail barely twitching as you concentrated on the sound. The knock rang out once more, louder this time, as you made your way to it.

“I’m comin’,” you groaned, grabbing a blanket from off the couch and wrapping it around your waist haphazardly. You grabbed the door knob and twisted it slowly, cracking the door open slightly just to take a peak at who it was.

Dressed in a dark-brown tank top and black sweatpants was none other than the long-haired man himself. He was carrying a gift bag in one hand, along with a tray of something else in the other. His smile was gentle as he waited for you to let him in. “Hey sleepy-girl, how ‘ya feeling?”

You opened the door wider, slightly embarrassed of your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t brushed your hair today, but you were glad you at least managed to brush your teeth and shower for a bit so you were somewhat presentable. “Sick.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He walked in past you, tail brushing against your nose and causing you to giggle a bit before you shut and locked the door to your room.

“Watch your tail, I don’t wanna get snot on you,” you snickered, waddling into the main foyer after him.

“Ew!” He laughed, setting the tray down on the kitchen counter, “don’t say stuff like that, it’s gross!”

“It’s the truth!” You replied, a dopey smile lighting up your features. Raditz stood across from you, leaning against the countertop in your kitchen. Your little room was nothing grand; you had a small kitchen with a barely operating fridge and stove top, and a rounded table with four seats sat right near the edge of where the kitchen ended and the living room began. You had one couch, a small coffee table, and your television was sitting atop a small bookshelf across from them both. The only other rooms were the bathroom and your bedroom, which was a complete and utter mess at the moment.

“Why are you here?” You croaked, moving back into the living and walking up to the coffee table. Your bathroom trash bin sat on the floor beside your couch-makeshift-bed, filled to the brim with tissues. You added another to the pile as you grabbed the box from the desk and blew your nose, Raditz wincing at the sound.

“I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself,” he replied casually. “Eating, drinking, breathing; all the good stuff.”

You giggled once more before that evolved into an avid coughing fit. He moved over to you quickly, grabbing your shoulders and steering you to lay down on the couch. “Gods you're burning up! What’s your temperature?”

“You should know I run hot,” you winked, coughing into your elbow as he rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Oh no, and you’re delusional! It’s worse than I thought.” You held in your laughter this time, not wanting to choke on your own giggles again. Raditz was so much larger than you, and often times tougher than most saiyans because of it. Today, however, his touch was gentle, and he pushed you to lay back slowly, situating your pillow behind your back before walking back into the kitchen.

“Seriously though, why are you here? Did you forget something?” You asked carefully.

He simply shook his head, pulling all that hair of his into a messy bun and washing his hands. “What, I need a reason to come and visit?”

You thought for a moment, “usually you have some sort of excuse.”

“What!” He snapped, crossing his arms. “I do not!”

You began to count on your fingers as a smile crept up your face, “well, there was that one time you ‘forgot’ your favorite hair-tie.”

“Have you seen how much hair I have?” He countered, waving at the piled up strands. “The others don’t work!”

“Or you ‘forgot’ your phone but it was really in your pocket?”

“I genuinely could not find it.”

“And finally,” you said carefully. “Two days ago you woke me up early to go on our mission, which wasn’t scheduled until yesterday.”

Raditz shrugged, “I am my brother’s brother. Brains isn’t exactly something my family takes pride in.”

“Isn’t your dad a scientist?”

Raditz grabbed the tray and gift bag and made his way over to you, quick to change the subject, “look, I brought food for you.”

You sniffed carefully, smirking as the scent of a flavorful broth hit your nose. “You made me soup?”

“No, I brought you soup. I can’t cook to save my life, luckily the dining hall had some on stand by.”

You smiled anyway as he set the tray in your lap, the gesture on its own more than enough. “Thanks Raditz.”

“No problem sweet heart,” he teased, ruffling your hair and grabbing your trash bin. He walked it over to your main garbage can and dumped it, setting it back down beside you carefully.

“How’d you know this was my favorite?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and lifting the spoon to your lips. You blew on it carefully before popping it in your mouth, tail wagging weakly behind you as you smiled and relaxed. “Man this is good. Just what I needed.”

He smiled as he watched you eat it, glad you were feeling well enough to get some food into your stomach. “Believe it or not,” he chuckled, walking up to the tv and sticking a usb of some sort into the back of it, “I pay attention to the things you tell me.”

“Sometimes,” you added playfully.

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Sometimes.” He quickly snatched the remote from the coffee table and plopped down beside you on the couch, causing your body to bounce up a bit and for the soup to slosh around in the bowl. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, finishing off your soup and setting the tray on the ground. You tilted your head at him, “what did you put in the tv?”

He shrugged, “just a USB.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, “with what on it, dummy.”

“Oh! Apologies, Vegeta,” he said quickly, smirking and bowing to you. “I didn’t realize I was speaking to the prince! Had I known sooner I-” He laughed as you shoved his shoulder before you started coughing again. His eyes whipped to yours quickly as he looked you over, concern clear as day in his stare. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, the coughing not subsiding. He grabbed the water from the tray and handed it to you, encouraging you to take a few sips. You did, choking on the water a bit in the process but getting it down nonetheless.

He wiped your cheek carefully, running a thumb over the corners of your eyes to wipe the tears that gathered there away. “Man you’re a mess.”

“Thanks Raditz.” You croaked.

“Come here,” he grunted, turning your body as if you weighed nothing at all. He placed a pillow on his lap and pulled your head down onto it, your legs resting comfortably on the cushions. He looked down at you and swept your hair out of your face before taking his out of the bun. “You need rest.”

“I wanna see what you brought with you though,” you frowned. “What’s on the USB? And what’s in the bag?” He sighed, clicking through the menu options and loading up the video file on it. Your tail thumped happily as you read the title of the movie and glanced up at him. “There is no way you-“

“I know, I know, it’s the WORST movie of all time,” he teased, poking your sides as you giggled.

“How dare you!” You squealed. “This is my all time favorite you ass!”

“Mhm, that makes sense I suppose.”

You glared at him, jabbing his side, “hey!” He laughed again, his voice echoing around the room and making your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“Since it’s for you though I guess I can put up with it. Just this once.”

You wrapped your arm around his leg and nuzzled into the pillow, a shiver running up his spine. He pulled a blanket over you as you relaxed, incredibly comfortable and at peace being taken care of by the large saiyan.

“How’d you even get it?”

“Through a very legal, not-virus filled website.”

You shook your head, “oh, of course.” You glanced over at his feet, where the silver gift bag was laying, stuffed haphazardly with white and sparkly tissue paper. “What’s in that?”

“Well, do you want it now, or when you’re feeling better?”

You paused, rubbing your hand against your chin as you thought. “Is it something I’d want now?”

He nodded, “I think so.”

“Then I’ll take it now please.” You rolled onto your back, staring up at him as he leaned down and grabbed the handles of it. He smelled refreshing up close, his cologne breaking through even your overly stuffed-up nose.

“Here you go,” he replied, handing it to you. “It’s nothing fancy so don’t-“

“Oh you stop that,” you giggled, taking the tissue paper out. “I’ll love it no matter- OH MY GOSH,” you yelled, coughing into your arm again.

“Careful! Geez!” He exclaimed. “If it kills you I’ll feel awful!” You pulled the stuffed animal out of the bag slowly, admiring the pristine fabric and the little red bow around its neck. It was your favorite animal in your favorite color, and you wrapped your arms around it tightly. The fabric was soft and plush in your hands, and your smile lit up your features.

“Raditz, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever gotten me. Ever.” He waved his hand at you.

“You’re just saying that,” he grunted, the tips of his ears heating up. Your eyes felt heavy laying there like that, and you turned onto your side again to watch the movie, stuffy now clutched closely to your chest and the tissue paper being scattered around the couch and floor.

“You’re a good boyfriend, Raditz,” you sighed. His tail puffed out as he looked down at you.

“I- uh-“

“Thank you.”

“Y-y-you’re welcome,” he grumbled, face blushing bright red. He felt hot now, veins pumping fire beneath his skin. He might have even been as warm as you now. Had you called him that intentionally, or were you simply so out of it from the fever you had no idea what you were saying?

He glanced down at you once more, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you snored softly. The combination of him, the movie, warm soup, the stuffy, and his gentle care having finally allowed you to get some much needed rest. He placed a kiss to your forehead, his tail intertwining with yours as he ran a hand through your hair and you smiled. He’d ask you about it when you were feeling better in a few days. Hell, after he got better. He wasn’t leaving your side until you were healthy again, and that probably meant getting himself sick in the process. That was something to deal with when it happened, however. Right now though? He was just happy you were okay.

#Raditz #Raditz x reader #Raditz x fem!reader #DBZ #DBZ fanfic #dbz fanfiction #dragon ball z #dbz #vegeta #dbz x reader #saiyan self insert #beanbag requests

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claymorexpunisher · 11 months

Text

Stolen Moments (One Shot)

Pairing(s): Cody Rhodes/Fem. Reader

Summary: Brock and Cody's feud takes an ugly and very personal turn. Reader is Brock's advocate, and she doesn't know how long she can stand there and watch it all unfold.

Tags/TWs: fluff, forbidden romance, mentions of injuries, stupid dumbass reckless!Cody, budding relationship, happy ending.

Word Count: 2,290

My heart was in my throat as Cody’s prone body was carded off into the ambulance after his latest brawl with Brock had gone horribly wrong. For a moment I feared he wasn’t even breathing.

“God dammit, Cody…” I mumbled to myself, wringing my hands anxiously. “God dammit, Brock!” I said, a little louder than I intended, causing Brock to look over his shoulder from his conversation off to the side with Hunter. Hunter was extremely animated. Brock, however? … he seemed as if he couldn’t care less and as if he had somewhere more important to be and more important things to do than be chastised by anyone. Even if he had just beaten Cody to a bloody pulp.

I couldn’t breathe as Brock gave me once over, and I tried not to let my shoulders sag in relief as he seemed to convince himself he was hearing things and he went back to his conversation with Hunter. Up til now I hadn’t been uneasy around Brock. He could be fun to be around when his mood allowed it. But even on the days where being around people was less appealing than being at the dentist for him, I was never intimidated or afraid. But now things have changed. His and Cody’s altercations have slowly climbed to outright fights and not the carefully choreographed dance that looked brutal to those watching at home. Now, I was terrified of Brock. And I knew that if he realized I was concerned for Cody in the slightest, he wasn’t going to be happy. Things at work slowly became a little too real for me and Cody to handle and we slowly began to find some form of solace in each other.

Brock didn’t really leave us with much of a choice, though.

As the weeks went by, between small check-ins at the venues, to fleeting touches in hotel rooms, to text messages exchanged through my friend and coworker Becky’s phone, and secretive and impromptu coffee “dates” before shows, Cody and I’s dynamic became something just as confusing as Brock’s animalistic actions that seemed to come from outta nowhere. But this new development between Cody and I was much more welcome… I was catching feelings for Cody’s stupid and reckless ass at an alarming rate, and I didn’t know how long it would take before those feelings erupted and caused me to do some stupid shit that I couldn’t take back.

Like kissing him. Which… would be very, very bad, if he didn’t want my advances. Talk about fuckin awkward… I mean you can’t just go around kissing people, especially your coworkers, when they haven’t explicitly expressed their interest. Even if with just one look, just one softspoken and fond ‘how are you?’ they make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to them.

Yeah, I had it bad for Cody fuckin Rhodes. And it was getting more and more difficult to pretend otherwise.

I wanted so badly to be in that ambulance with Cody but I just… didn’t trust Brock. I didn’t trust him not to take it personally seeing as reality and fiction had gone murky in his mind. To him, Cody was challenging him, despite already being told by the higher ups that this is how things were quite literally written in the script for both of them. Cody was meant to scratch, claw, and fight tooth and nail against Brock. But Brock’s ego didn’t like that. Brock would rather Cody just stay down. But every time Brock would beat him down, Cody would get back up. Just to piss Brock off and to give me a fuckin heart attack all over again.

~~~

“Cody Rhodes, have you lost your ever-loving mind?!” I exclaimed as soon as Cody let me into his hotel room. I don’t know how the hell Cody got up to even open the door, being as battered as he looked.

“Hunter already gave me a piece of his mind after tonight, I don’t need you to do the sa-” Cody spoke softly, but with a note of simmering irritation in his voice. Oh no. He was listening to me whether he wanted to or not. I was sick and tired. I was sick and tired of Cody poking at the ferocious bear that was Brock- and for what? For answers? Good fuckin’ luck to anyone who questioned Brock and his motives. Nah… this had gone past kayfabe long ago. And I was done with it all.

More importantly, I was done pretending like my feelings for Cody were just friendly concern. And I was done staying silent. I wanted to understand, and I wanted it to stop.

“Well, tough shit.” I snapped. My brows furrowed grumpily as I folded my arms snug against my chest. A lightly amused look passed over Cody’s eyes, but it was immediately wiped off when I smacked his bandaged chest. He grunted in pain in response. “Why aren’t you still in the hospital right now? I was told you checked yourself out?!” I asked shrilly before I remembered that aside from a select few safe people, no one was supposed to know that I was here checking up on Cody. I instantly shuffled into the room and shut the door.

I shook my head as I watched Cody limp slowly back to the bed. A bandage was wrapped tight around his torso along with a brace on his arm. He also had a split lip and bruised eye to boot. Jesus Christ… his blue eyes trailed over my face for a moment, causing me to freeze momentarily underneath their assessment. That softly amused look returned. That look that said Cody somehow knew something you didn’t. I wanted to wipe that look off his face again, but my embarrassment was catching up to me. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so sure about what I came here to do. He still hadn’t answered my question, but his eyes stayed trained on me and I gulped noticeably when he finally spoke.

“Why are you here? Did you come to play nurse because that would be much appreciated.” Cody asked, his eyes twinkling as he watched my every move. He would do this often. Flirt shamelessly with me until I was a sack of melted and flustered bones. Despite me wanting to throw caution to the wind and let my feelings for him come to the surface, I couldn’t help but blush deeply. I suddenly became shy, playing with the multiple bangles around my wrists as I now avoided his gaze.

“I asked you first,” I mumbled, throwing a fleeting look at him. I rolled my eyes, blushing harder as Cody’s amused expression became a full-blown grin. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of it and I willed myself to look away from him once again.

Why was I suddenly tongue tied? Was it because in the back of my head I was worried that he didn’t feel the same? Or that he just saw me as his coworker- Brock’s advocate and nothing more? … I had no idea. But right now, I was ready to bolt. And it seemed as if somehow Cody could tell.

“I’m fine,” he said. His features held a calm, soothing expression. As if he were trying to placate my own concerns and he wasn’t the one who had to be carded off to the hospital at the end of tonight’s RAW taping and those before it. It took everything in me not to scream at Brock to go fuck himself every time altercation happened, and to jump into the ambulance with Cody. Even though I felt like throttling him as well.

Looking at him through my lashes, I pushed through my sudden shyness, and I came over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. My eyes welled up with tears before I could stop them and I was a bit horrified when my jaw began to tremble, signaling some ugly crying was afoot. Cody quickly became concerned, and he reached out with his uninjured hand, and he laced our hands together.

“I’m okay, sweetheart. It’s just some bumps and bruises, I’ll live.” he stressed, letting the endearment slip easily from lips that quirked up into a small smile. But it was clearly more than just some bumps and bruises.

My voice trembled as I searched his features, and I squeezed his hand tightly. The pads of thumb sent butterflies all over my body as it grazed back and forth over palm in a soothing gesture.

“Why won’t you just quit? Why do you keep fucking with him, Cody?” I whispered. But apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Cody’s gaze turned icy cold, and his thumb suddenly froze, cutting off the soothing touch I’ve come to crave at this point.

“Is that why you’re here then? Why you come looking for me every single time? You want me to leave him alone? … Well, I’m sorry to tell have to tell you this, but that’s not going to happen. Brock and I are finishing this and I’m not going to stop until we do.” he said tersely. I scoffed and ripped my hand out of his grasp, and I twisted my torso to fully face him now. I reached out and gently cupped his cheek, urging him to look at me. I needed him to look at me when I said this.

When his eyes finally mine again, I could see the turmoil in them. His features still held that stubborn harshness that he held in his heart, but I watched that look melt into shock when I spoke again.

“Screw Brock. This isn’t about him. This is about us. A-about you,” I amended, chickening out as his eyes widened that much more at the mention of an ‘us’ having even the remote possibility of existing. “You can’t keep poking at him, Cody. You need to be smarter about this. Do you have any fucking idea how worried I’ve been these last few weeks? This isn’t just work shit anymore, Cody. this has gone way too far- he almost killed you! … let me help. I work closely with Brock; I can help you deal with him. Please.” I said, hearing the plea in my voice and not bothering to cover it up.

A lone tear slid down my cheek as Cody nuzzled into my touch. His eyes were closed for a moment before they met mine once again.

“I thought of… of stopping this. I don’t particularly enjoy the fact that you’re now caught up in all this. And yes, it’s… it’s gotten extremely personal between Brock and myself. If he finds out that you came to see me or that we’re working together to get one up on him-”

“He won’t.” I replied confidently. “But you’re going to have to trust me and let me do my job. You don’t know Brock like I do. So, you’re going to have to listen to me…” “Please?” I added after a couple seconds of pensive silence from Cody.

By the grace of the universe, Cody eventually traded weekly ass whoopings from Brock for advice from me on a more sensible approach. With Brock you had to be 1000 steps ahead and alert at all times. Getting one up on him mentally injured his ego and kept him humble more than any physical asswhooping would.

But that didn’t mean Brock wouldn’t receive that as well.

Summer Slam came and Brock and Cody had their match. Everything was legal during this match. I knew Brock would fall into the trap of a No-DQ match. Any chance to taste Cody’s blood. But what he didn’t know was that Cody had someone on his side.

It felt insanely good to hold that kendo stick in my hands, slide into that ring and just absolutely wail on Brock’s body, over, and over, and over again. Getting him back for everything he put Cody through for no fucking reason. Cody and I were now officially dating, so I had double the reason to beat the ever-loving shit out of Brock. To say that fans and people backstage were shocked was an understatement. Our carefully crafted plan worked beautifully.

With my help, Cody won the match and we both held each other’s hands up triumphantly, while Brock left the ring with his tail between his legs. I was Brock’s biggest asset. And now that Cody had me in his corner, Brock couldn’t touch him because I knew Brock like the back of my hand.

Cody and I spent some time catering to the fans, signing things and taking selfies as the pay-per-view ended and then Cody carried me backstage bridal style despite being understandably exhausted. I kissed him soundly the second the cameras were off of us, and we smiled against each other’s lips as our coworkers and friends hooted and hollered.

“We’re not a bad team, are we?” I whispered as Cody pressed his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes as he kissed my forehead and then I let out a delighted giggle as he pressed our lips together again, letting his lips linger on mine for a few seconds. His now familiar and warm gaze made my stomach swoop, and I ran my fingers through his hair, not giving two shits about the blood mixed with sweat which now stained my fingers.

“No, we definitely don’t make a bad team… the bad news for you is now I’m gonna have to keep you.” Cody murmured, his dimples causing deep, adorable creases on his cheeks.

That didn’t sound like bad news at all, actually…

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fluff fic #cody rhodes angst #cody rhodes x female reader #wwe fic #wwe fan fic #wrestling fic

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hairstevington · 1 year

Text

Stranger Therapy - part 4!

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve and Eddie have an awkward encounter and end up telling Robin what's been going on. Their third session with Murray does not go as planned. Link to Ao3

Word Count: 3K, follow-up to part 1 part 2 and part 3!

Warnings: Smooooches, idiot gays being awkward, GAY PANIC AS ALWAYS, what even is the fake dating vs real dating line anymore, Murray is kind of an ass, but also he's right, cameo from loml Robin Buckley, sexual tension and release baybeeee

A/N: Here you have it folks - the much awaited part 4! I never expected this to blow up, and while I have a few scattered ideas of where I could take the story, I think I will leave it at these four parts. A few readers suggested an epilogue so I’ll probably do that, otherwise thank you for following along! xx

Steve’s apartment was somehow both neat and incredibly cluttered. It was like one of those images where the longer you stare at it, the more weird shit you see.

“That’s a really big poster of a can of soup you got there,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Robin has a, uh - a unique taste in decor.” Eddie smiled.

“Explains the random bowling pin as a centerpiece, too.”

“Actually, that one is mine,” Steve admitted. “Stole it from a bowling alley when I was sixteen and now it just kind of follows me everywhere.”

“Wow,” Eddie laughed. “So your life of crime literally haunts you.”

“More like,” Steve countered, “I dunno what else I’m gonna do with it at this point. How am I supposed to throw out a bowling pin?”

“I meannnn.” Eddie mimed shooting a basketball. “Straight to a dumpster, I’d think.”

It wasn't an unpleasant conversation, by any means. It was like their usual banter, except one thing was different - now, they were in Steve’s apartment, and they’d just told each other they wanted to date in a non-fake way, but they may have already been doing that, and Jesus Christ we’re a mess.

“Can I get you anything?” Steve asked. Eddie followed Steve to the kitchen and heard Steve go over an assortment of beverage options, but Eddie was too distracted to really listen. He quickly realized if he didn’t pick something, Steve would just keep naming things, so he just blurted out -

“Uh - I’m good, actually.” Steve closed the fridge and leaned against it, as if he was waiting for further instruction. “So, what now?”

“I have no idea,” Steve answered. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Me neither,” Eddie agreed. “Although I do have one idea.”

Eddie took a step closer to Steve and put one arm on either side of him, caging him against the fridge door.

“Oh,” Steve muttered quietly.

“This is okay, right?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded.

And it all would have been fine, in any other situation. Eddie had kissed many people before, and it hardly ever gave him pause. But there was something about kissing Steve, the vulnerability of it all, and the way they were crossing a physical boundary after blowing past so many emotional ones already, that made this feel different.

“What’s taking so long?” Steve teased with a smirk.

“I, uh -” Jesus Christ, just kiss the guy. What the hell is wrong with me? “Oh, fuck. I’m, like, nervous?” Eddie released Steve from the fridge and took a few steps away.

“You’re getting all in your head about it, right?” Steve asked. “Uh, okay. So, does it help if I say I really want to kiss you?” Eddie pivoted on his heels to face Steve again.

“Yeah, that helps,” he said. “Okay, I think we gotta just, like, do it.” Steve chuckled.

This time, Eddie moved quickly and with more enthusiasm - so much so in fact that their foreheads clashed together.

“Oh, shit!” Steve exclaimed. “You trying to kiss me or concuss me?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie said, mortified. “Okay, well this has been fun. We’ve had a great run. I obviously have to disappear forever now.”

Eddie really would have left and never looked back, except Steve didn’t look embarrassed or offended or even disappointed in any way. Instead, he was smiling.

“Dude, you are thinking way too hard about this,” he noted. “Come here.” Steve pulled Eddie back to him by the arm and swiftly kissed him on the lips. It was just a peck - just enough to make contact and break the initial barrier. “See? Easy.”

Yeah, it was easy. Very, very easy. So easy in fact that Eddie found himself immediately chasing Steve’s lips and kissing him again.

He was just about to melt into it when the door burst open, sending the boys flying apart like shrapnel.

“Steve!” Robin greeted. Her gaze drifted to a blushing Eddie. “And guest,” she smirked. “It’s about time you came over. It’s been what - three weeks? Most gay people elope by this point.”

She was obviously joking, entirely unfazed by the whole situation. She walked in and set her stuff down as if nothing was different than usual, then grabbed a poptart from the kitchen cabinet - completely ignoring the tension in the room.

“Nice to, um -” Eddie began. “Finally meet you. Or, meet you again, I guess.”

“Likewise,” Robin said, her mouth full. She plopped herself down on the couch and turned the TV on.

“I wanna tell her,” Steve whispered.

“Tell her what? That I just gave you head trauma?”

“No!” he said. “About, like, all of it.”

“Why?”

“Because I tell her everything and now it’s weird.”

“You guys do realize I have ears, right?” Robin said from the couch. Eddie sighed.

“Fine, tell her.”

“Tell me what?” she asked. Steve and Eddie shared one last panicked glance before Steve took a deep breath to share the secret he’d been keeping for way too long.

“So, you know how Eddie and I went to couples counseling as a joke for the first date?” Robin nodded. “We, uh - we’ve still been going every week.”

“What?” Robin asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re that committed to the bit? Hasn’t it gotten old yet?”

“That’s the thing,” Eddie interjected. “We’re not going as a joke anymore.”

There was a thick silence in the room.

“So you - wait.” Robin stood up as if pacing would help her understand the messed up situation they’d gotten into. “So you’re - okay but you - what?”

“We’ve been going to therapy and working on our own shit,” Steve clarified.

“Yeah, but like - together,” Eddie added.

“That’s a thing?” she asked.

“It is 100% not a thing,” Eddie replied. “But Dr. Bauman is a fucking genius.”

“He still thinks we’ve been dating for years,” Steve said.

“But we haven’t really gone out much outside of sessions,” Eddie noted.

“Until today,” Steve continued.

“Right,” Eddie nodded. “Today.”

Robin stared at them both for a few moments, contemplating what she’d just learned. Eddie couldn’t believe this was how he was being introduced to Steve’s best friend, but ah well. She’d figure out he was a little unhinged eventually anyway.

Suddenly, she was laughing. It was more of a cackle, really. She bent over and clutched her stomach, she was laughing so hard.

“What?” Steve asked, thoroughly confused.

“You both are such dinguses,” she said in between fits of giggling. “The therapist totally knows.”

“What? No he doesn’t,” Steve denied.

“He’d stop seeing us if he did, right?” Eddie wondered.

“Not if you’re paying him, oh my god.” Robin chuckled again, her laughter dying down. She wiped a tear from her eye. “So, you two aren’t even actually dating?”

“Uhhhh -”

“Not…yet?” Steve answered. “We were about to, um -”

Robin cut them off with another burst of laughter.

“This is the stupidest and best thing you’ve ever done, Harrington,” Robin sighed. “And you’ve done a lot of stupid things.”

“Yeah, I believe that,” Eddie agreed.

The mood was kind of over after that, so Eddie promised Steve he’d text him and then bolted out the door.

All of that - every single part of it - went the exact opposite of how it was supposed to go.

Steve: I thought I saw Dr. Bauman at the grocery store, panicked, and hid behind the cantaloupes.

Steve: (It wasn’t him)

Eddie: hahahahhahahahaha

Eddie: did the imposter see you?

Steve: Only a little bit

Eddie: Hmm. Maybe you’d have better luck behind the bananas

Steve: Regular or organic?

Eddie: i set you up for a really good dick joke there and THATS what you came up with??

Steve: Come on, your joke was low-hanging fruit.

Steve: You’re gonna make a balls joke now aren’t you

Eddie: You’re learning!!

Eddie: I mean pshhh no i wasn’t

Steve: ;)

Steve: Sorry about earlier. We still ok?

Eddie: Yeah

Eddie: I’m actually really busy this week and probably can’t see you until our next appt

Eddie: That’s not a line I promise, I actually really fucking like you and want to see you again

Steve: hiiii this is robin, the man is currently too stunned to speak but you guys are cute albeit very dumb

Steve: ff okjasd poik

Steve: SHIT sorry I told her not to send anything

Eddie: so she reads all our texts too?

Steve: Only the ones that make me blush

Steve: …so, most of them yeah

Steve: See you in therapy 😘

As promised, Steve picked Eddie up this time for their meeting with Dr. Bauman. He was a little antsy, just knowing how they’d left things the last time. Like - they’d kissed, but only for a second. It hardly counted, honestly. It’s not like they were officially together now. Steve couldn’t kiss Eddie as he sat down in the passenger seat, even though he wanted to. He couldn’t hold his hand as they drove to the office, but knew Eddie’s innermost thoughts and feelings about his dad going to prison. None of it made sense. They’d created something brand new.

“Now look who’s thinking too hard,” Eddie said with a smirk. Steve realized how focused he must have looked and relaxed the muscles in his face.

“Yeah, whoops,” he replied.

“Relax,” Eddie responded. “This is the part we’ve done a few times before already.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated. “Do you think Robin was right? Do you think he’d still work with us even if he knew we lied to him?”

“I mean, probably. Wanna find out?”

“No!” Steve answered. “I mean, well what if Robin’s wrong and he drops us?”

“Hmm,” Eddie said, stroking the stubble on his chin - which, by the way, was something Steve thought people only did as a joke. Somehow, Eddie made the cartoonish, exaggerated, theatrical behaviors seem charming and normal. “We could ask him about it hypothetically.”

“Eddie,” Steve muttered. “That’s a dead giveaway.”

“Yeah, but if we never admit to it, he has no proof,” Eddie countered.

“Except he could prove we haven’t been dating in like a hundred different ways,” Steve argued.

“Ah, shit. You’re right,” Eddie agreed. “I’d say we could try to be subtle about it, but that’s not really my specialty.”

“You? Not subtle?” Steve teased.

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie responded.

“No arguments there,” Steve said. Without thinking about it, he grabbed Eddie’s hand and held it, and it didn’t feel like a big deal in the slightest.

“Something is different.”

It took Murray all of two seconds to read the change in energy between them. He’d figured it would be a week until they figured out they had it bad for each other, and he suspected he’d been correct. He usually was, but then again - there was nothing usual about this.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked. Murray clocked the way the question made the boys squirm.

“I have something I want to discuss today!” Eddie loudly announced, putting all attention on himself.

“Alright,” Murray said, urging him to proceed. Now Eddie seemed to be the more anxious of the two.

“It’s about the intimacy thing,” he began. “Like, why am I more nervous to do physical stuff now? I mean - why would I be awkward about it now when in the past I’ve never - I mean, we’ve never had an issue with that?” Steve looked completely shocked by the question - not because he was offended by it, just surprised that Eddie was asking.

Murray had to keep himself from grinning at the confirmation that yes, he was in fact always right.

“Well,” Murray answered, “your relationship is going through a transitional period as you’re learning more about each other in a non-sexual way. So, physical intimacy might feel different than it used to.”

“How do I make it not feel different?” Eddie asked.

“The real question is, what feels different about it?” Murray countered.

“Uhhh well, I’m definitely attracted to him. I just wanna like,” Eddie did some vague hand gestures that Murray assumed were supposed to mean sex. “You know? Like, all the time. But then I actually try to do it and I freeze up.”

“Steve, what are your thoughts on this?”

“I guess I don’t really have that problem,” Steve replied, running his hands through his hair. “I’m like, good to go.” Eddie’s face went pale except for the blush of his cheeks.

“Interesting,” Murray noted. “And when you both were sneaking around at the beginning of your relationship, how did the intimacy make you feel?”

Eddie thought about how he’d gotten no action in high school, but he certainly would have loved to run away with Steve at the time, given the chance. Although, his virgin ass would never have had the guts to do anything. Meanwhile, Steve thought about how he had just started to come to terms with his attraction to men his senior year. Neither of them so much as kissed a guy until well after graduation.

Clearly, there was no way for them to answer Murray’s question and solve their real life predicament.

“Fine,” Eddie replied.

“Mhm. Normal,” Steve added.

The issues that these boys were facing, the real ones anyway, they were all deeply important to dig into and process. But Murray couldn’t really do that when half of the time, they were trying to cover their own asses.

“Okay,” Murray sighed. “We’ve known each other about a month now, so I think it’s time we cut the crap.”

“About what?”

“Spare me the denial, boys, I’ve seen right through you since you stepped into my office.” Murray watched as Eddie and Steve processed what was being implied. When they remained quiet, he continued. “Come on! I know you guys have been lying to me this whole time about your relationship. Tell me - are you doing some sort of weird role play? Are you long-time friends pulling an elaborate and extremely expensive prank? Or does one of you not have health insurance, so you’re sharing the love? Spill it.”

“Damn. Robin was right.”

“We can never tell her.”

“Should we make a run for it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Dumbasses!” Murray exclaimed. “I can hear you! Come on, the jig is up. Am I wrong?” Eddie and Steve looked at each other, then shrugged.

“You’re not not wrong,” Eddie replied.

“We’re not going to get arrested for, like, fraud or anything, right?” Steve asked.

“No,” Murray answered. “It’s your money, and I think we’ve done good work here. We still have some time if you want my actual professional advice on anything, by the way.”

“And after that?” Eddie wondered. “Like, is this our last session with you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth from the beginning and we’ll go from there?” he replied.

So, they did. They explained how they met, how they decided to continue seeing Dr. Murray, how they paused their real-life dating, and how they shared a brief, awkward kiss.

“But the thing is, Doc,” Eddie finished. “We actually feel like it’s going well. So, if we promise to just be ourselves, can we keep doing this?”

“This is fascinating,” Murray muttered. “I didn’t realize you two didn’t know each other at all prior to this. Hmm.” He looked through his notes and thumbed through a few books on his shelf, pondering how to move forward. “What we’ve been doing is most like group therapy, I’d say, since you two haven’t seen each other much outside of our sessions. Most of the time, group therapists advise members not to meet up or form relationships outside of the group meetings, so they can focus on themselves in session. It sounds like you do both want to work on your own personal issues, outside of your budding relationship with each other.” Murray continued to consider the ethics of the situation, what he knew so far about the boys, and what he knew about the usual protocol regarding termination of clients. Since this was new territory, Murray could basically do what he thought was best, given the circumstances. “If you want to keep working together, I am willing to do so. But I recommend not seeing each other outside of this, to prevent conflict of interest.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “So, no dating.”

“That would fall under the category of ‘seeing each other outside of this,’ so yes Steve, that’s correct.”

“So, Dr. Bauman was kind of a dick today,” Eddie stated as they walked to Steve’s car.

“Yeah, he kind of was,” Steve agreed. “I mean, he’s good at what he does, so maybe we should listen to him.”

They made it to the car and paused, enjoying the warm weather against their skin. Steve leaned against the driver’s side door, and Eddie joined beside him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie sighed. “Because we want to keep seeing him.”

“Right,” Steve responded. Eddie turned his head to face Steve - Big mistake. Steve looked fucking amazing in the sunlight. “So, if he says we should stay apart, then -”

Eddie closed the gap between them and kissed Steve the way he’d been wanting to since they started this whole goddamn thing. He breathed in the scent of Steve’s cologne that had been teasing him and driving him mad. He gripped the bicep that commanded his attention any time it was in view. He ran his hands through the hair that felt just as soft as it looked.

“Bad idea?” Eddie mumbled into Steve’s lips.

“Don’t care,” Steve replied, returning the kiss with fervor.

Murray collected his notes from the day and stacked them neatly before filing them, as he always did before lunch. He glanced out the window to check that the weather was still nice, then sighed as he caught a glimpse of something else.

Do these idiots seriously not remember that my office faces the parking lot?

(epilogue found here)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@escapingthereality @imfinereallyy @raisedbylibrarians @samthemissfit @chaoticvictorianspirit @elizbaehth @despoenaandpyromania @cr0w-culture @bagofgreentea @f1ct1onwh0re @novelnovella @thing-a-ling @bisexualdisastersworld @practicallybegging @soldiers00 @beckkthewreck @fandomz-brainrot @shrimply-a-menace @justanothergirlwithobsessions @freshflowers-and-dryingherbs @satan-is-obsessed @best-selling-show @micheledawn1975 @smolalien13 @sundead @rosered93 @nikboi @thehunterofsleep @havlindzk

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @justaloadofgarbage-blog @alliemunsonsstuff @undreamingscatworld @thefruityfours @hobbitnarwhal @calivanus @wreckmyplans-thatsmyman @antheia @goodolefashionedloverboi @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @steviesbicrisis @gamerdano @menamesniall @eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @stringischeese @eds-trashmouth

#steddie #stranger therapy #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #st fanfic #writing #modern au

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strangerthingslover69 · 1 year

Text

Do you copy? ~ part 2

Part 2 is finally here, sorry took me so long!

18+ minors do not read!

Warnings ~ swearing, smoking and smut

Safe to say Eddie was very excited about you coming over today. A lot more than normal. So much so he actually cleaned up his trailer. Putting the clothes in the laundry, changing his bed sheets, vacuuming, washing the left over plates and putting the rubbish in the bin. Even to go as far as lighting a candle but changed his mind last minute blowing it out. He didn’t want to seem too much. He had a shower than morning and threw on a classic Eddie look. A band tee with ripped jeans. He was feeling excited but also nervous. He decided to smoke to calm his nerves. Back at your house you wake up to the sound of your alarm. You didn’t wanna oversleep since you didn’t see Eddie yesterday. Getting out of bed you reach your bathroom. Stepping into the shower and giving yourself time to wake up. You think back to the orgasm you gave yourself last night. The thoughts of Eddie touching you. You feel tingly again but you know you don’t have time this morning otherwise you’d be late. Picking out an outfit was tricker than normal and you hadn’t done your laundry yet so your choice was sparse. You end up finding on of Eddies bad tees he so kindly gave you (after you kept stealing it from him) a black skater skirt, all your tights were dirty so you went for some cute knee high socks throwing on your old converses. You decided against a jacket since it wasn’t cold. You grabbed your keys and headed off to Eddies trailer.

The smoke definitely calmed Eddies nerves down. He heard your car pull onto his drive next to his van. He got up beating you to the door before his even closed your car door. You look up and see Eddie standing there with a smile. ‘Morning Munson. Did you miss me that much?’ You shout making your way over to him. ‘Always Y/N’ he says with a smirk. He can’t help but linger his eyes over your legs as you walk up each step. He licks his lips. He’s already feels a semi on. He needed to calm down. He was suppose to be the one going to tease you. As you walk up the steps you can’t help but feel Eddies eyes boring into you. Sure you’ve seen Eddie look at your many a times but not quite in this way. ‘Hey, that’s mine?’ He stops you before you reach the door properly pointing to his top. ‘Well it was yours but I think it looks better on me, don’t you?’ you say pushing past him with a wink. ‘Well I can’t deny that Princess’ he says shutting the door. Princess? That’s a new one. You can’t help but smile at your new nickname. ‘So what we got here?’ You ask looking through his pile of VHS’s on the table. Eddie turns around to see you bent over the table looking through the VHS’s. He can’t help but stare at the way your skirt is showing off your cute black panties. No holy shit. Your black thong. Eddie walks up to you stopping behind you, his front inches away from your ass. He bends down and whispers into your ear, making slight connection to your ass. ‘Thought could watch one of these Princess. You like scary movies don’t you?’ You feel Eddies breath on your ear as he speaks. You feel your body cover in goosebumps. Eddie knew you hated scary movies. What’s he up to? You don’t even realise how close your ass it to him until you go to walk back a little and you graze over his front. Eddie holds in a moan as he feels your ass on his semi hard dick. You feel very hot all of a sudden. What the hell is going on? You stand up properly, your back ends up resting on Eddies chest as you get up. Your heart races as you feel Eddies hand touch around your waist. What is he game? ‘You want a drink?’ Eddie says letting go and walking away to the kitchen. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. ‘Y-yeah sure. Thanks’ you manage to reply. Eddie grabs two cokes from the fridge with a smug grin. He can tell his small actions are having an effect on you. Things were only gonna get more fun.

You sit on the couch as Eddie returns with your drink, he hands to you. ‘Thanks’ you say taking it from him. His fingers grazing yours as you take it. Normally something small of this touch wouldn’t bother you but the way Eddie is being it’s setting something to new to your soul. Eddie chooses whatever horror film you picked out. He leans down to put in the VHS. You can’t help but watch him as he moves. You see the top of his boxers creeping out, you mind wonders what he’s hiding underneath. You quickly look away before he turns around. He sits down next to you, Eddie has always been a touchy feeling person so you were use to him sitting closely to you. As the movie begins Eddies mind begins to wonder back to yesterday. Hearing moans. Hearing you moaning his name. His eyes turned to you but his head one the screen. He knew you hated these movies so this was his perfect opportunity. He knew you’d be scared. Twenty minutes into the film as you are using your sleeves to hide from the blood and gore. ‘Enjoying the movie?’ Eddie says leaning in closer to you. You don’t take your eyes off the screen as you reply, ‘Yup. It’s fantastic. He laughs to himself. Only a minute later someone is brutally murdered making you squeal and turn away from the screen, you nuzzle into Eddies shoulder. ‘Aw what’s wrong Princess, you said it was ‘fantastic’ he says bringing his hand to poke you in the side of your ribs. It tickles as he pokes you making you wriggle closer to him. ‘Stop, that tickles!’ you laugh into him. ‘Oh it does? Well I’m that case!’ Eddie moves both his hands and tickled your sides. You try and move but Eddie is stronger than you. Your wriggling around so much trying to escape your unaware of how much you skirt has rode up. Your bare ass is pretty much out for Eddie to see, he doesn’t miss a thing as he checks out your ass

You somehow manage to break free from Eddie by grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from you, holding them up in front of him. ‘Damn Princess, when did you get so strong?’ He jokes. Out of breath from laughing you look up into his eyes and smile. You and Eddie stare into one another’s eyes. You’d been close to him but not this close to see just how deep brown his eyes are, you think you see a hint of something else but not sure what. Your grip loosens on Eddies wrists. Big mistake. Before you know it he’s somehow managed to pin you down on your back by you wrists either side of your head. His body laid on top of yours. ‘I always win’ he says with a smug grin. You try wriggle your wrists free but this causes Eddies grips to tighten, it doesn’t hurt though, if feels kind of exciting, a whole new feeling bubbles in your stomach as you realise just how close your bodies are. ‘Eddie what are you doing?’ You say playfully. ‘Just reminding you who’s in charge sweetheart’ he says putting your wrists in just his one hand. His free one moves the hair from your face tucking it behind your ear. Silence falls over you both again as you stare into one another’s eyes. Eddie leans down so your faces are inches apart, his nose bumps yours. You don’t know what or how this has happened but you are more than okay with it. Just as your lips are about to touch, ‘fancy a smoke?’ He says pulling back and letting go of your wrists. His body off yours as he stands up making his way back to his room. You lay there confused and horny as hell. What the fuck? You mutter to yourself as your get up and follow him.

Eddie already has the joint lot between his lips, sat on the edge of his bed. He pats next to him and you sit down. You watch as Eddie takes a toke, you watch how his lips wrap around the end of the joint as he inhales it in, his nostrils flaring slightly. He removes the joint and exhales. He turns to you to see you looking at his lips. He sees you blush as you’ve been caught. You shake it off and put your hand out for the joint. Eddie doesn’t give it to you, he leans closer again and places the joint in between your lips. His fingers brushing your bottom lip slightly. You almost forget to attach your lips properly until Eddies hand is gone. He smiles and moves to the top of his bed where his pillows are and lays down. You take a long and much needed toke, hopefully this will help you calm the fuck down from whatever is going on. You both sit and lay in silence for a few minutes as the weed takes it effect. ‘Eddie?’ You say turning your attention to him. ‘Yeah?’ He asks still staring at the ceiling. ‘Did you clean up?’ You ask looking around his room as it’s not in its typical state. ‘Maybe, why?’ He asks. ‘Just looking tidy, wait?’ You say crawling on the bed more, you crawl up to where he is and inhale his pillow. Eddies head turns to you, he can’t quite believe his eyes. You are bent over right next to him, you ass definitely showing fully from your skirt. He’s give anything to touch it. He bites his lip as he sits to his elbows to get a better look. ‘You’ve cleaned your bedding too?!’ You say turning to him shocked. However when you turn you don’t make eye contact like you were expecting. You see him sat up slightly biting his lip, you follow his eyes and realise he’s looking at you. More specifically your ass. You let out a little giggle, his head quickly turns to yours as he knows you most definitely caught him looking. He instantly blushes. You sit back so your on your knees. ‘See something you like Munson?’ You ask playfully. ‘Well Princess you make it sure damn hard not to look when you wear that skirt.’ He replies with a smile. Now it’s your turn to blush. He sits up so now he’s sitting properly and shuffled closer next to you. His hand resting on your bare knee, sending little waves of excitement all around you. He leans closer to you and whispers into you ear, ‘not to mention that thing you call underwear, it hardly covers anything.’

Your heart races as you feel Eddies hand moves higher up your knee towards your thigh. ‘This okay?’ He asks looking into your eyes. ‘Yes’ you near enough whisper. With your permission his hand moves further up under your skirt. He starts to slowly kiss down your neck, you moan at his kisses. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he goes back in but this time he sucks your neck, pressing his teeth down into your soft flesh. His hand creeps up to where your aching core is, you move your knees more open so he can touch you easily. You feel his finger press down on your underwear right where your clit is. You gasp at his actions, he found your clit just like that. ‘Someone seems excited’ he whispers into your neck. ‘Please Eddie’ you whine at him. ‘What sweetheart?’ Eddie moves from your neck to your face, his nose brushing yours just like earlier. Lips inches away. ‘Please touch me’ you beg. ‘Since you asked so nicely’ Eddie says before he kisses you. His lips are softer than you imagined, the kiss is gentle at first. His fingers move your underwear to the side and he moves your wetness up and down your slit. You moan into his lips. Eddie breaks the kiss and takes his hand away you are about to complain at the loss of feeling but he tells your to lay down and you do so. Eddie lays on top of you and continues to kiss you, much more needier this time. You feel his tongue enter your mouth, you suck on it making him moan and buck his hips into your aching core. As you continue to kiss you you feel one of his hands move up and along your body. He moves it under your top and stops at your breasts. Your thankful you didn’t wear a bra today as Eddie makes contact brushing past your nipple. ‘No bra? You are a full of surprises Y/N’ Eddie says into your lips. His hand squeezes your breast as his lips leave yours as he kisses down your jaw, down to your neck again finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. Your hand reaches and pulls his hair making him moan into you. It’s the prettiest noise you’ve ever heard. His hand lets go of your breast but his fingers wonder to your nipple as he twists them slightly. You’ve never been so turned on and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet. You buck your hips needing some friction. ‘Don’t worry princess, I am going to give you the best orgasms ever.’ He says with a mischievous smile.

Eddie continues to kiss down your neck, he reaches your collar bone planting small sweet kisses. His body moves further down on yours. He pulls at the hem of you top looking up at you for permission. You nod and bite your lip. ‘Princess if you keep looking at me like that you’re gonna make me cum already’ he says with a wide grin. You let out a small giggle but that’s quickly cut off when you feel Eddies tongue on your nipple. He licks it all around and then puckers his lips and sucks it, you arch your back and moan, his eyes never leaving you. His other hand moves further down your body until he reaches the waistband of your skirt, his hand goes under it and your underwear till he’s met with your dripping pussy. ‘Fuck princess, so wet for me’ he moans into your nipple. ‘Only for you Eddie’ you say back with a cheeky smile. The way you’re looking at him and saying his name drives him insane. He can’t wait anymore. He sinks a finger straight into your wet hole making you moan. He starts pumping in and out of you, you sound so wet and normally would be embarrassed but right now the sensation of Eddies finger feels too good. Only one finger and you feel yourself being close already. ‘Fuck Eddie!’ You moan pulling his hair and bringing him in for a sloppy kiss. He can feel you clenching on his finger. ‘Fuck Princess so close already?’ He mumbled to your lips. You can’t answer your too focused on the feeling of him. Your so close. On the verge. Then he quickly pulls out his finger and pulls away from the kiss. You sit up slightly feeling annoyed. ‘What the fuck Eddie?! I was so fucking close’ you sound so desperate but you don’t care. He just stopped you from cumming. He lets out a small laugh that just irritates you more. ‘What’s so funny?’ You ask feeling pissed off. Eddie looks at you sucks your juices off his finger then gets off the bed and stands up. Before you have chance to talk again he grabs you by the ankles and turns you over so your on your stomach. ‘On all fours’ he commands. ‘Excuse me, in my-?’ Your cut off by Eddie smacking your ass, it stings but you can’t deny it turns you on more. ‘On. All. Fours.’ He says. This time you listen and get on all fours. Ass in the air you feel Eddies body leaning over yours. He leans down and whispers into your ear, ‘the first place I want you to cum is in my mouth Princess. You understand?’ You nod. He grabs you by the hair pulling you back to look at him. ‘Words. I need words Princess’ he says with a look of lust. ‘I, I understand’ you reply taken back by Eddies actions. It makes you want him even more. He lets go out your hair pushing your head back down to the bed. You hear him rustling around then he cover your eyes with a blindfold. ‘This will make it even more fun sweetheart’ he whispers to you. You clench around nothing. You can not see anything now but after a minute you feel Eddie yanking down your skirt and thong. He spreads open your hole and blows on it. You flinch at his breath. ‘What a pretty pussy you have, I bet she taste fucking amazing’ he says hypnotised by the sight of you dripping for him.

You moan as you feel Eddies tongue lick from your asshole to the top of your vagina. He licks your juices all around, licking up agonisingly slowly up and down. You press your ass further back to him making you take more of you pussy. Smack. You feel Eddie spank you again. ‘Such a needy girl’ He says. ‘I, I’m sorry’ you whimper pathetically. ‘Don’t be baby. I love it’ he says and dives his tongue right back to your pussy. Your feel him lap up your juices just like before but this time more quickly. You’re a moaning mess into the bed. You feel Eddies tongue lick up to your hole. You feel his tongue going in and out of it. He’s fucking your with his tongue and fuck it feels amazing. ‘Fuckfuck’ you moan. You feel close already. Eddie can tell, he removes his tongue and replaces them with two fingers. He’s reaching places you didn’t know existed before. You feel his tongue making circles on your clit. The sensations of both together are the best anyone has ever given to you. ‘Eddie, fuck s-so close!’ You scream you hands bunching up the duvet tightly in your hands. ‘Cum baby. Cum in my mouth’ Eddie says before licking your clit so fast. His fingers pump in and out still, with the combination you crumble. ‘I I’m cumming!’ You moan as your finally release. Eddie licks up all your cum not missing a bit. He fingers still in you but slowed more down. Both heavily breathing trying to catch your breath. ‘Fuck Eddie, that was’ ‘Best orgasm ever?’ He says with a smug smile. ‘Yes. Best orgasm. Ever’ you reply back. ‘Ready for another one?’ Eddie says. Before you answer you feel something slap your wet pussy making you gasp. ‘Fuck Eddie, is that-’ you say biting your lip. The next thing you feel is Eddies dick pushing into your hole. Your still sensitive from earlier but it feels too good. ‘Fuck. Your big’ you say breathlessly as Eddie bottoms out in you. ‘Thanks Princess’ he says with a smug smile. For a minute Eddie doesn’t move so you can adjust to him. You decide to show him you were. You move yourself back and forth. Making you both moan together. ‘Fuck me, that feels good’ Eddie says holding you by the waist. You carry on moving yourself back and forth on his cock, it feels good. ‘My turn princess’ he says as he pounds into you. ‘Fuck!’ You scream out at the next sensation. Eddie is not gentle but you don’t care. You need it. he moves in you hard and fast, he’s been needing this for fucking forever. He digs his fingers hard into your hips most definitely going to leave a mark but you don’t care. You feel another orgasm approaching as you clench around Eddie. ‘Eddie, gonna cum!’ You moan as you cum again all over Eddies dick. ‘Fuck, squeezing me so tight. Fuck. Shit.’ Eddie doesn’t have anytime to warn you before he releases his cum straight into you. You feel it and fuck it’s a lot, so much so it start to spill out but Eddie doesn’t stop moving as he’s still cumming. ‘Fuck Y/N’ Eddie says breathlessly. ‘Good job I’m on the pill’ you say giggling. You take the blindfold off and turn to see Eddie. He’s out of breath, his hair sticking to him from the sweat but he looks so fucking hot. He slowly pulls out of you and sits on the bed. You turn around and crawl up to him, his cum spilling out of you but you don’t care. He lifts his arm and you snuggle your way next to him. ‘So Eddie?’ You say tracing his tattoos. He turns to you humming, ‘best orgasm ever?’ You say with a big grin. ‘Fuck yes Princess. Best. Orgasm. Ever’ he says bringing you in for a kiss

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #stranger things #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie x you #smut

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librathefangirl · 8 months

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The Boy and the Rain

ao3 (Chapter 1/1; 1.7k+)

Ban stalled, silently watching Meliodas in the rain for another moment before he retreated inside. As he fell back asleep, he did so with the feeling that there was some vital part of his captain that he was missing. Maybe it was something Meliodas was keeping from him. Maybe it was something he didn’t let himself see. Years later, Ban would come to realize it was both.

Fun fact: I started this fic back in like december or something, completely forgot about it, and then had to basically recreate it because I couldn't remember where it was supposed to go XD

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

It was raining outside. The droplets fell unforgivingly with enough ferocity to make the ground all muddy and send everyone seeking shelter inside. Well, everyone except one person. Meliodas was standing in the middle of the street in the same position he had for a good while now. He had his face angled up towards the dark skies. A soft smile played on his lips and his eyes were closed. Without the protection of his armor, his clothes were defenseless against the rain. He was completely soaked from top to toe, yet looked the epitome of someone at peace. Water dripped from his blonde locks in beat with the rest of the rain.

“Bartra’s gonna kill you if you get yourself sick, you know.”

Ban was leaning against the safety of the doorway, watching his captain without any intention of actually joining him in the downpour. Meliodas just tilted his head in a small acknowledgment that he’d heard him, but made no move otherwise. It wasn’t the first time Ban had caught him out in the rain like this. Probably wouldn’t be the last either. He never did seem to catch a cold from it either, that bastard.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Meliodas suddenly asked, pulling Ban’s attention back to the present. His voice sounded slightly breathless as he spoke. His eyes practically shone as he opened them to gaze up at the falling droplets.

“I- What? ” Ban frowned. Was the captain actually drunk?

“The rain!” Meliodas clarified without tearing his gaze from the sky.

“It’s… water.”

“Yeah… It’s just water.” Meliodas sounded almost in awe. His smile grew larger as his voice turned softer. “No matter how many years I spend here, it still feels like a miracle every single time.”

“Okay, what the hell are you talking about, Cap’n?”

“Oh!” Meliodas suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying. A somewhat startled expression overtook his face as he met Ban’s eyes for the first time since he had ventured outside. “I- Uhm…”

His gaze flickered behind Ban to the building housing the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins. A multitude of snores could be heard. They were the only two awake. Whatever passed through Meliodas’ mind in those few moments of searching, Ban wasn’t privy to, and in the end, Meliodas just shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze back to the sky. Almost unconsciously, the smile returned to his face.

“There wasn’t a lot of rain like this where I grew up. That’s all.”

Ooh, now that was intriguing.

“Really?” Ban questioned, tilting his head curiously. “And where was that? Because here I thought Britannia was just one big pile of wet mud.”

Meliodas’ smile turned crooked as he threw another glance back at Ban, “That’s a bit complicated. It doesn’t even matter. I was never allowed to enjoy things like this anyway.”

Now that was a loaded beehive Ban was not about to poke. He couldn’t remember a single time when Meliodas had spoken of where he grew up or of his parents. Ban had always had a nagging feeling about the latter though. Just a small insistent thought that maybe he had his reasons to keep quiet on the matter. Not like it was a conversation Ban would want to have either. Besides, that wasn’t how the Seven Deadly Sins worked. They talked about the present, maybe even the future; they never spoke about the past. Not really.

“Well, enjoy all you want, Cap’n. Just don’t come bitch to me if you actually get a cold this time.”

Years later, Ban would come to realize it was both.

– X –

The sounds of the Boar Hat muffled when Ban closed the door behind him. He remained where he was for a moment, quietly watching his captain. Meliodas was standing by the railing on the balcony, his arms resting on top of it as he had his face turned upwards. He didn’t appear the slightest bothered by the rain that fell on him, if anything he seemed happy about it. Then again, that was hardly something new. For as long as Ban had known him, Meliodas had always had a strange attachment to the rain; a wonder for it Ban had never understood.

Now, though, he was beginning to.

Ban had watched his captain enjoy the rain from the safety of the doorway many times before. Today, he decided to actually join him. He leaned against the railing beside Meliodas, reaching out a hand and watching the water slowly pool in it. The sight felt weirdly nostalgic. Ban scoffed quietly.

"Who knew I would actually miss the rain."

Meliodas closed his eyes briefly, taking a slow careful breath. When he met Ban’s gaze it was with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I never thought I’d get to experience this again,” Meliodas admitted, looking back at the sky with a sigh. “But here we are… one more time.”

The warm feeling Ban had felt shattered at Meliodas’ words. In an instant, a cold matching the soaking rain replaced it. One more time – one last time. Ban tried not to let himself follow that line of thought, but the finality of Meliodas’ comment reminded him of another rainy night. There wasn’t a lot of rain like this where I grew up.

“It doesn’t rain in the Demon Realm at all, does it?” Ban asked. Meliodas shook his head slowly. His smile softened, becoming more genuine.

“You know, at first I didn’t think much of the rain. It just seemed to make Britannia…” Meliodas let out a chuckle. “Make it into one big pile of wet mud. ”

“So what changed? Because let’s be honest here, Cap’n, I have never met anyone more invested in the rain than you.”

Meliodas shrugged a little helplessly, “Elizabeth.

“There was this one time, still a while before I even left the Demon Realm. I had snuck out to see Elizabeth and this storm hit. It was pouring down, the worst I had seen, and Elizabeth-” Meliodas let out another laugh, his smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “She was absolutely delighted! She didn’t care about finding shelter or getting her wings soaked. She danced and she laughed, just enjoying the thing that I had always found so annoying. Before I knew it, she had dragged me out into the rain too.”

A teasing grin spread across Ban’s face as he nudged Meliodas in the arm, “You danced in the rain?”

“Yes,” Meliodas admitted completely unabashedly. “We had no right to. There was a war going on and we were supposed to be natural enemies, but we were dancing in the rain together. That was the day I realized that I would do anything for her, just to get to see her smile like that again.”

Meliodas’ smile dimmed once more, his gaze falling to the ground below them before he continued.

“I realized a lot that day. After that, I knew I couldn’t keep going like before. How could I? One day I’m dancing with Elizabeth, realizing how much I love her, and the next I’m just supposed to keep fighting, keep killing? I couldn’t stand the idea that one day I’d have to hurt her.”

“So you left,” Ban commented softly.

“So I left,” Meliodas agreed, the smile now completely gone. “Turned my back on everything I’d ever known… even abandoned my little brother.”

The cold feeling returned in Ban’s gut. I left… Everything I’d ever known… Abandoned… It was all too close to the things he didn’t want to think about. Not tonight. He needed just one more night without having to think about what was to come. Because the truth was, no matter how much Ban was prepared to support his friend through this, the thought of losing Meliodas was killing him.

“So,” Ban said, trying to distract himself. “That is why you like the rain so much? Because it reminds you of that day with the princess?”

Meliodas nodded his head, the smile returning little by little; “That day, Elizabeth… The freedom I felt in that moment. Meeting her changed everything. It made me believe in a better future, and that day in the rain was one of the first times it didn’t just feel like a possibility but a reality. Like we could actually have a life like that together. At that moment, nothing else mattered, and I wished we could stay there forever.”

“Cap’n-”

“There you are!” Elizabeth’s voice was suddenly heard behind them. As they turned around they saw her and Elaine standing in the now open doorway, illuminated by the light and warmth of the tavern.

“Oh, you guys are soaked,” Elaine giggled as all the worry seemed to leave Elizabeth when her gaze found Meliodas. Ban tried not to feel guilty, tried not to think about all the things he knew Meliodas hadn’t told her.

“You should come in and dry off,” Elizabeth suggested but Meliodas just shook his head, grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Come on now, Ellie, don’t tell me you’ve gotten scared of a little rain,” Meliodas teased, pulling a startled shriek from Elizabeth as he pulled her out into the rain with him. Ban chucked at the sight.

“All yours, princess,” he told Elizabeth as he side-stepped the couple to reach Elaine. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to his side as the door shut behind them.

In some ways, Ban understood exactly what Meliodas had talked about out on the balcony. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do just to see Elaine happy, and listening to Meliodas’ laugh as he and Elizabeth danced in the rain, he wished they could stay in this very moment. Here, when his best friend was happy and carefree, and Ban wouldn’t have to face the day when Meliodas disappeared and left them all behind.

#nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #nnt #sds #7ds #meliodas nnt #ban nnt #background melizabeth #background ban x elaine #libra writes #my fics #nnt fic

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frogtimebabeyy · 1 year

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don’t ask your three year old daughter if they have a boyfriend yet.

I realised I was arospec around 4 months ago, coming to terms with the idea that I wouldn’t ever be able have those feelings for someone was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.

I had a pre-school boyfriend. Shocker, things didn’t work out (otherwise I’m technically still married-by-the-swings to someone I don’t even speak to anymore-) Ever since then I’d looked forward for the idea that I’d fall in love one day, and we’d have that connection that I’d seen demonstrated in all of my favourite shows. I’d be doing something fun, or I’d be visiting a cool place and I’d think “Rad, one day I’m going to be able to do this with my BOYFRIEND !!” (Spoiler alert, time went on and I did NOT in fact end up having those feelings for anyone.) I could love people, sure, but it sure as hell wasn’t romantic.

I spent the first three months being upset.

I had been taught from a young age that boys and girls fell in love and got married (which is a whole other can of worms, we hate heteronormativity-) Even if it wasn’t intentional, this messed me up BIG TIME. I tried dating. I thought that if I pretended the guilty feeling wasn’t there, it would go away. I thought I had too high standards, even though I genuinely had a deep respect and admiration for anyone that showed an interest in me romantically, and I felt bad every time I let them down because I knew the friendship would never last long beyond that point.

I’m ashamed to admit that even now I still find myself vying for male validation because it was instilled in me from such a young age that I needed that attention. Even if it’s still a problem I’m glad I can recognise where this problem comes from so that I can work on it :)

So yeah— don’t ask your three year old child if they have a boyfriend. They don’t need your amatonormativity <3

#aro #aroallo #aromantic #arospec #alloaro #aro positivity #aro pride #aromanticism #aroace #aromantic asexual #aropositivity #greyromantic #cupioromantic #lithromantic #qpr #queerplatonic

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jazzysnazzys · 10 months

Text

Love at First Fight.(Part 2)

Joel Miller x Fem Reader, (WC: 2k)

AN: hello again my bees! ive been having a lot of fun writing this in my free time, and i think im going to start posting on here more! if you have any suggestions or prompts you’d like me to write dont hesitate to send me an ask my loves <333 thats all from me, enjoy!

warnings: descriptions of gore, cursing, slow burn, mentions of age gap?, enemies to lovers, consumption of juice (drink responsibly!!)

———————————————————————-

You were always a heavy sleeper before the outbreak. Sleeping in till noon on weekends, your alarm waking everyone else up but you, and no matter how much sleep you got; you always ended up tired.

This world wasn’t fit for people like that. Swift movement and quick escapes had forced you to drastically change your habits in order to survive.

You quickly awoke to the sound of heavy feet shuffling inside the poor excuse of a cave you collectively decided to rest in. Peeking over your shoulder, you found Joel brewing some coffee.

You rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn, giving a curt nod to Joel who obviously didn’t return it.

Jerk .

You rolled your eyes and got out of your sleeping bag, stretching. Joel watched you like a hawk as you walked over towards him. You stared at his coffee.

“Can I-“

“No.” He cut you off before you could finish.

“You don’t have to be such a dick. I’m one of you now.” You glared at him.

“You’re only here because the kid practically begged me to let you stay.” He pointed at Ellie’s sleeping body inside of her sleeping bag, looking all cozy.

“Otherwise I’d have killed you on the spot.” He continued, his piercing gaze was filled with disdain.

Who the hell did he think he was? You guys had just met, and he decides to treat you no better than an infected! You wondered if he was always like this or if the outbreak had really changed him.

“You don’t scare me.” You shot back, standing your ground.

“I should.” He practically spat at you angrily.

“Can you two stop flirting so loud? I’m trying to sleep.” Ellie spoke in a groggy voice, pointing between the two of you.

“We’re not-“ You started.

“I don’t care. Just don’t suck faces in front of me.” Ellie smirked at you and rubbed her eyes. What was it with people cutting you off today?

You groaned, shaking your head before walking over to your bag. You were voided of your weapons, courtesy of the old man, only having a knife to defend yourself with.

Pulling the heavy bag onto your shoulders, you watched as Ellie got up and started her playful banter with Joel.

“Enough. Let’s head out.” Joel looked at Ellie, ignoring you completely.

You sighed and followed Joel, Ellie waiting for you like the angel she is.

Today was going to be a long day.

———————————————————————

You kept silent most of the walk, listening intently as Ellie rambled on about some cards she liked to collect. As she spoke, you glanced over at Joel who seemed like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than with the two of you. You wondered how this girl had put up with his attitude.

Ellie followed your eyes to the direction of Joel and she let out a giggle.

“Don’t mind the old man, he’ll warm up to you soon enough. He was just like this with me when we first met, and now we’re like…best friends. Right Joel?” Ellie grinned as she glanced at Joel.

“Shut up.” Joel didn’t spare her a look.

“See? Practically attached at the hip.” Ellie’s humor made you chuckle to yourself and ruffle her hair.

Your eyes locked with Joel. You tried to see what were in those eyes. Hurt? Anger? You almost felt bad for him.

“Hellooo?” Ellie shook your arm trying to grab your attention.

“Uh, yeah?” You snapped out of your thoughts, staring at the girl.

Ellie smirked, an idea crossing her mind.

She ran a couple steps ahead of you and Joel, leaving the two of you to walk side by side.

“I’m gonna go up here!” Ellie glanced back at you two, both you and Joel looking very unamused.

The atmosphere was thick with tension.

You were the one to try and break it.

“So…where are you from?” You shot a glance at Joel, who was of course ignoring you.

“Okay, uhm, how’d you end up with the kid?”

Joel kept his pace not even sparing you as much as a look.

“I don’t understand why you have to be such a jerk. You barely know me!” You whisper yelled at him, your anger rising.

“You answered your own question.” He spoke sternly, continuing to walk forward.

“You should get to know me before you judge me! You’re such a dick. I’ve been trying to be nice and all you want to do is brush me—“

“Texas.”

“What?” You blinked.

“Texas. I’m from Texas.”

You sighed, exasperated.

“Yeah, I figured with your thick accent, cowboy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, cowboy.”

You shot him a glance, which he returned with annoyance.

“Hey guys! I think I see a town up ahead!”

Ellie interrupted your ‘friendly’ conversation.

Joel quickened his steps to catch up to her as did you.

Joel scanned over the neighborhood, seeing if any of the houses looked good enough to scavenge. After finding one, he nodded his head towards it to signal you and Ellie to follow him.

He kicked down the door and has his shotgun out as soon as the door fell. You felt weak as your hand gripped the knife that Joel had so graciously allowed you to keep.

Suddenly, the sound of yelling runners alerted the three of you. You pushed Ellie behind yourself out of instinct and ran up to one. Joel was wrestling with one before breaking its skull open with the back of his gun. You plunged your knife in one’s head repeatedly, before it fell down. You checked to see if Ellie was alright, but her eyes were filled with fear as she screamed at you.

“Watch out!”

You were tackled by one that had gotten the jump on you. It’s disgusting, mutilated face growled at you as it pounced on you. Your knife was right next to you, but taking one hand off of the infected would leave it to overpower you. You struggled against it when all of a sudden a large hand threw the infected against the wall, relieving you from the heavy weight.

Joel punched the runner’s head repeatedly. It was already limp, it’s head spewing out brains and other bodily fluids. Joel kept punching it, grunts escaping his mouth as he turned the infected’s head to mush. You were on your hands, catching your breath and watching Joel beat the once human, to a pulp. Once Joel was satisfied, he exhaled hard.

He turned to look at you.

“Are you bit?” Joel’s eyes were deranged. He looked like a madman.

“No.” You quickly responded.

“Good. Let’s look around for anything useful.” Joel acted as if he didn’t just commit an inhuman act of violence.

It intrigued you even more.

You got up and wiped the dirt off of you as you lead Ellie with you to check for supplies.

You didn’t end up finding much. A couple cans of food and a half full bottle of alcohol.

What you did end up finding that peaked your interest the most, was a bottle of wine.

You quickly shoved it in your pack before following Joel and Ellie.

——————————————————————

You three had basically checked all of the houses in the small neighborhood, only a couple run ins with some runners and a single clicker.

Ellie had her sights set on one of the houses you guys had checked out. She wanted to stay in it for the night. Through non-stop nagging, Joel finally gave in.

Walking into the home, you looked at a framed photo of a family. Silently, you apologized to the family that used to live here and thanked them for their shelter. You had a feeling they weren’t around anymore.

“I call the upstairs bedroom! Don’t get too loud down here you two!” Ellie ran up the stairs and you and Joel could both hear her slam the door shut.

You and Joel shared a look as there was of course, only one bedroom downstairs. With one bed.

Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

“I’ll take the couch.” Joel grunted as he moved to sleep on the couch.

“Cut the bullshit Joel. The bed is big enough for both of us. We’re adults.” You looked over at him and he shrugged as he picked up his things to go to the bedroom you both were about to share.

As he sat down, he slipped off his boots.

Meanwhile, you took out the bottle of wine you had been saving in your pack. You popped the cork off and took a swig, savoring the taste.

Joel eyed you curiously as you drank the liquid. You could feel his gaze on you. He held out his hand for you to pass the bottle.

“What’s the magic word?” You smirked.

“Just give it.” He let out an annoyed gruff.

“Uh-uh. I shouldn’t. You didn’t share your coffee with me this morning. Say the magic word.” You teased.

“…”

“The offer is going away quickly. Going once, going twice-“

“Please.”

You giggled and handed the bottle to him.

“That’s more like it.”

He took a huge swig of the bottle and let out a content sigh.

“Good find.” He spoke.

“The Joel Miller complimenting me? I must be dreaming.” You spoke with sarcasm, taking the bottle and gulping down another sum.

“Shut up.” He grunted.

You both continued to share the bottle for a while and for the first time, there was little tension in the room.

Even though the wine must have been years old, you felt the familiar feeling of alcohol oozing in your veins. You felt a little bold.

“Sooo. What’s your story?”

“Don’t matter.” He stared at the wall in front of you both.

“Well it does to me. Speak up. I’m listening.” You waited for an answer that never came.

“Fine, fine. Touchy subject. Sorry. What will you share will me?” You sighed, your vision a little distorted.

“I’m just trying to survive. Along with the kid. S’all you need to know.” Joel huffed.

“Well, you don’t gotta be a stranger. I’m here.” You tried to comfort him.

You knew for a fact that he was a broken man. Probably had a family before the outbreak. You could tell by the way he would lovingly stare at Ellie like she was his reason to keep going. She probably was. The way he would suddenly get broody when Ellie would ask you questions about your account of outbreak day. Of course, you’d never pry the information out of the man, however much of a dick he is, he didn’t deserve it. No one did. Though it had been years since the outbreak, the grief never did go away. Neither did the memories.

Unbeknownst to you while you were lost in your head, Joel had already fallen asleep, snoring softly with your wine bottle in his hand.

He looked so at peace. The familiar crease of his brow no longer present. The scowl that was usually plastered on his face was gone, replaced with a calm expression.

You took the time to admire his features for once.

He by no means was young, but that didn’t make him any less handsome.

The way his hair fell perfectly into curls, his strong nose bridge, and prominent brow bone made you stare even longer.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

You soon passed out next to him as well, both of your legs tangled together, and his arms slightly holding your waist.

Another day awaited you tomorrow.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #ellie williams

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 8 months

Text

To Make a Heaven of Hell (6/?)

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After messing up cooking canned soup, Virgil decides maybe he'll try his luck going to a restaurant with some of the others instead.

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Chapter warnings: None as far as I'm aware.

Notes:

It feels like it's been ages - I'm not sure if it actually has or not, or if I'm just imagining time passing again, but hey.

Chapter 6! We're getting new characters next chapter baybee

Just for copywrite sake btw, unless I specify otherwise I did not come up with any place names in this fic lmao. All credit to that goes to Jaysea.

“So,” Emile said sitting Virgil down on a nearby bench, “How’re you finding the Hellp Desk?”

“Oh- uhm- it’s pretty good?” Virgil said, frowning, they hadn’t quite been expecting an interrogation when they got down here, then again, maybe Emile was just curious? “I mean - they’re all really nice? And I’m glad I’m allowed to stay with them - gives me something to do.”

“That’s great! Keeping busy is such fun, and I’ve heard the desk is great for some catharsis too,” Emile winked, Virgil was pretty sure that was referring to beating up pedophiles with spiked bats, but he couldn’t be certain.

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, “Judy makes great snacks too.”

“Oh her pies are just the best aren’t they?” Emile laughed, “She shares them with us sometimes - oh! So whats your paradise like? Assuming you have one, of course?”

“Oh-” Virgil said, trying to keep himself from visibly recoiling at the question, but already he felt that sick feeling pool back into his stomach, what would Emile think? When he found out that Virgil was still to much of a coward to even approach his door? “I…”

Emile watched him for a moment, face falling, “Oh… are you like Ruggy? A hell-bound soul working for the desk?”

“No- no, I have a paradise I just…” Virgil quickly corrected, before mumbling, “Can’t accept it…”

The demon’s frown turned into something a lot more sympathetic as he patted Virgil on the shoulder - giving him a second to move away before doing so. Virgil accepted the touch just a little stiffly.

“I see, well - we have a lot of souls come through here, ones sent and ones who have paradise,” Emile said, “You’re more thna welcome to come down here to chat whenever you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Sure as sugar’s sweet!” Emile grinned, standing back up, “I gotta get back to work, but I'll see you round?”

“Sure,” Virgil shrugged, Emile winked at him before walking away, tail swaying behind him.

Well. That was something that just happened.

Virgil didn’t move from that bench for a long moment - long enough for another one of the demons to stop and ask if he was alright - but eventually he stsod up, ran himself through one of the breathing exercises an old friend had taught him back in the mortal world and walked out of level one as confidently as he could possibly manage.

—-

Another night, a few days later, Virgil had been left alone in Lily’s house once again. She had left a couple things out in the kitchen that he could make up for dinner - and she’d also given him the names of a few decent restaurants and pubs he could go to instead the second night he had stayed with her.

It was odd, Virgil thought as he attempted to cook up a can of soup using the stove, how quickly he’d adapted to this lifestyle. He wasn’t even so scared of going near the oven now.

But it was strange, too, because Virgil hadn’t had a parental figure in his life for… a few years, and even when his parents were around they weren’t… good.

They wondered if the relationship they seemed to be gaining with Lily was something like what a parent was supposed to be. At least to a teenager.

There was no reference point - nothing in his previous life was at all similar to this, especially not his own parents. So this was uncharted territory. Virgil felt a little bit like he was wading through the ocean wearing a blindfold, he had no clue which step would end up with a rock through his foot.

And he knew he was being overly cautious. Lily wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that now. The old fear was just still there nagging at the back of his mind.

The soup was… disappointing. Virgil didn’t think you should be able to fuck up canned soup - especially not in paradise, literally all he needed to do was heat it up, but somehow he’d messed it up anyway. They sighed and got rid of the disgusting soup before looking - for the first proper time - at the list of restaurants Lily had stuck to the fridge.

None of the names were familiar to him - maybe one or two he had heard in passing, but he hadn’t yet been anywhere other than Common Grounds. Going out somewhere would mean good food, but it would also mean eating alone around strangers and potentially getting lost. So, for obvious reasons, Virgil didn’t really want to do that.

Maybe he didn’t have to go alone, though.

Pulling out their phone, Virgil opened up the groupchat Lily had added him to and contemplated sending a message.

The groupchat consisted of everyone they knew at the Hellp Desk - as well as a number of users he didn’t know the identities of. He was fairly certain that one of them was Remus’ twin brother, specifically the one with a Disney profile picture with the nickname ‘Your Prince Charming’ who constantly talked about theatre and insulted Remus. Two of the chat members had matching profile pictures (of the angel and demon characters from that one show he’d seen all over tumblr a few months before they died but had never gotten round to watching) and Virgil was fairly certain they were Emile and his husband now that he’d met the demon.

There were a few users who he couldn’t guess the identities of, though, he assumed they were just more of Lily’s friends and family and tried his best not to throw his phone whenever one of them talked to him. He was used to interacting with people online, it wasn’t that different if he had the very real chance of meeting these people he kept sending dumb memes to in person at some point.

Currently there were no conversations going on - but it was rare for the groupchat to be quiet for long. Virgil wouldn’t be interrupting anyone if they sent a message, so why were they so nervous about it? Maybe because he’d never been the first to start a conversation here before? Maybe it’s because he was making a request this time, and not just sending a reactive meme or responding to a conversation.

Virgil took a deep breath and let it out with a shake of their head, this was a non-issue, barely even a problem, not something to be stressed about, just send the damn message.

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Hey guys - is anyone around? I wanna get something to eat but don’t wanna go alone ._.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Just wondering if anyone wanted to come with maybe - haven’t decided where yet or anything

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> I don’t want to get lost

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> or stared at, yknow. But it’s fine if not no pressure.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Sorry I’m spamming - i’ll shut up.

Virgil paused in their word vomit, trying to take deep breaths, they’d sent something now and that was great. Now he just had to wait for a response - oh, and he should probably apologise about the smell in Lily’s kitchen.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Oh, wanted to say sorry abt the smell in ur kitchen @Nearamir I fucked up canned soup.

<TacoTime> How do you fuck up canned soup??

<Your Prince Charming> I’ve done it.

<TacoTime> Yeah but you’re you, I’m asking how baby V fucked up canned soup.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Literally no idea man idk what to tell u.

<Nickel> Greg and I are spending tonight in my paradise - sorry V! I hope someone will go with you <3 (also, are you okay?)

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Other than the crushing weight of eternal existence? I’m fien, soups not tho.

Virgil sighed, unsure if he’d even get a response at this point. They all seemed distracted by the soup disaster, but hey-! Only one person had actually said they couldn’t go so far. Of course, he knew that meant Greg couldn’t either, Lily and Bel were all out doing something too, so they wouldn’t be able to either, which left…. Not many people. Now that he thought about it.

<TheMonsterUnderUrBed> HEy emo u wanna come w/ me and the front deathk nerd we were gonna register for trivia at luckyleaf if u wanna come n get smth 2 eat??

Virgil sighed in relief, okay, maybe it was Remus - who he wasn’t sure he was comfortable eating around - but Logan would be there too. Seeing him again would be pretty cool, he still needed to say thank you properly for the help when Virgil first arrived. Besides, Logan seemed nice, he wouldn’t mind seeing if they could be friends… Lily had said eternity was better the more friends you made. Virgil thought it would be worth a shot.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> K cool! I’ll tag along - where should I meet u?”

<TheMonsterUnderUrBed> yk tir na nog? meet us in 15?

Virgil sent back a hasty thumbs up before rushing back to his bedroom to find something to wear more appropriate for generally being outside than what he was currently wearing (a cat t-shirt and sweatpants, to be exact). He was fairly certain the gate to Tír na nÓg was just along a hallway he passed on the way to Hell. He just hoped he was remembering right.

Once he’d changed into something far more appropriate for leaving Lily’s house and fixed his hair, he rushed back out - nearly disturbing Max - and grabbed a bag too, just in case.

After checking themself over in the mirror, Virgil headed out into the paradise realm.

Fifteen minutes after seeing Remus’ message, nearly on the dot, Virgil found himself stood waiting outside of the gate to Tír na nÓg, he could actually see the pub Remus had mentioned a little further down the hall, but he’d been told to wait here, so wait here he would. As Virgil waited for Remus to arrive with Logan, he began to wonder if he had actually missed them, or read the message wrong - or gone to the wrong place, maybe. But almost ten minutes later, Remus arrived, bouncing along the corridor with a disgruntled and ruffled looking Logan in tow.

“Hi!” Remus grinned once they’d stopped in front of him, “Logan, emo, emo, Logan.”

“We’ve met,” Logan said, straightening the tie he wore under a blue diamond patterned sweater vest. Virgil wilted a little at Logan’s harsh tone, did he not want to be here? - or did he not want Virgil here?

“Hi,” Virgil said weakly.

“Hello, Virgil, I’m glad to see you made it out on the right side,” Logan said, tone immediately becoming less harsh, though it still had that same professional air about it - Virgil wondered if Logan was just like that.

“Yup, I’m glad I’m here too,” Virgil chuckled, “Um…”

“I heard you had taken up a position with Hell’s help desk,” Logan prompted as they began to walk, Remus seemed happy to walk alongside them, humming along to some tune and swinging Logan’s hand - which Logan either hadn’t noticed that bay’d grabbed or didn’t care about.

“Oh yeah - I uh- Judy introduced me to them and Lily sorta… adopted me, I think,” Virgil chuckled, “Oh wait- Remus?”

“Yesss?” Remus said, letting go of Logan’s hand and turning to walk backwards so xa could look at Virgil, “What’s up?”

“You mentioned signing up for trivia-” Virgil started, before being cut off.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Me and Lo are signing up a team for the trivia!” Remus giggled.

“Yes,” Logan nodded, before noting Virgil’s confusion, “Every month Luckyleaf hosts a large trivia night, in which varied teams will compete, Remus has convinced me to enter a team with him and a few others this month.”

“Oh cool, sounds fun,” Virgil said, smiling, “Who’s on your team?”

“Me, the nerd, obviously, the shark, the intern,” Remus listed off on fizz fingers, “Oh, pinkie-pie and the coffee angel, though we’re one person short.”

Virgil stared in confusion as Remus raised an eyebrow, Logan sighed.

“Remus and I, Sharkie, Dantillian, Emile and his husband Remy, our team is called ‘Logan and the nincompoops.’ which I personally find distasteful but Remus is certain it’s humorous.”

Virgil snorted, “You said you were one person short?”

“Yeahh - we can’t find anyone else who’s chill with just doing this for fun, they’re all too competitive, and I heard Jan was on the Roman deity’s team again so we’re gonna get crushed anyway.”

“I am only doing this because Remus believes it will be funny.” Logan said, “Especially if we somehow do decently.”

“Remus is right, that is funny,” Virgil laughed, “Is anyone allowed to participate?”

“Yeah! Anyone!,” Remus nodded, “Why, d’you wanna?”

Virgil couldn’t help how he blushed and went quiet. He did want to join, a trivia tournament where he wasn’t actually expected to be super smart sounded like a lot of fun, they’d know everyone there - except Emile’s husband, they wondered what he was like - but if Remus didn’t want them…

“You’re welcome to be part of our team, if you would like to join,” Logan followed up on Remus’ comment, “We’d be glad to have you.”

“I’m no good at trivia,” Virgil said, before frowning, “Well - I suppose unless ‘Tumblr trends and holidays’ comes up as a topic.”

Remus snorted, “I mean, maybe, we’ve had some weird shit in there before, but yea, it’s chill - we’re called ‘Logan and the Nincompoops’ for a reason, y’know.”

“Right,” Virgil said, looking around at both of them, Remus looked to be vibrating out of eir skin with excitement, while Logan was more subdued, Virgil could see the hopeful glint in his eyes, “Yeah, sure, I’d love to join.”

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General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer :)

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#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #my fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #logan sanders #ts logan

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