#ANYWAY the comic today was cracking me up

[tscsunlover]

ok i’ve seen so many people talking about the height difference and people asking why they want ty to be taller and here’s my answer. I feel like a lot of the time it’s always the herondale are just like cut copies of the ones who come before them (which to those people I saw look at james and jace) but like I don’t want kit to become more like jace if that makes sense. I feel like fanfics i’m reading always have kit just acting like jace and I don’t like that… I want kit to stay the kid who talked about superhero’s and was funny (but a different brand of funny than jace cause I see people compare there humor a lot and I just disagree) and while it doesn’t make a lot of sense now that i’m typing this out I want kit to be shorter because it fits the nerdy funny personality he has in my head and like ty’s a centurion (I have no idea how to spell this but it autocorrected to this) and he’s gonna be like an amazing detective and this literally makes no sense but i’ve already typed it out so…

[bigfatbimbo]

How does Vox angst sound? Something where the reader has to take care of an injured Vox?

I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex —

1.5k words,, Vox x reader

summary — After a bad fight with Valentino, Vox seeks comfort in his bootycall, you.

warnings — Toxic relationships, abuse, manipulation, Vox being a dick, Valentino is his own warning, hurt/comfort

a/n — I think I went way too ham on this one. The request was “Vox angst” not a poorly written shakespeare play.

You weren’t expecting anyone that night, let alone your self proclaimed bootycall, Vox. The knock at your door was surprising on its own, but your amazement only grew when you opened it.

“Are you going to let me in—ozzz—or are you just going to st—aa—are?” He spoke through gritted teeth and with effort.

“Vox,” you place your hand on his shoulder and usher him in, “what the hell happened to you?”

Already familiar with your apartment, he flips down on the couch almost immediately and leans in head back.

Under the dim lighting of your one singular lamp, you take him in; screen cracked at the right corner, shirt disheveled, and from what you could see in his face, eyes tired and sunken.

“Oh not much—chh—“ He sighed, glitching slightly, “—just a peachy day in the park.”

You didn’t know what to do. Vox was no picnic, unfortunately, you knew that better than most. But you vaguely wonder what could have provoked this?

Vox was a smooth talker, he usually didn’t fail to charm people and kiss ass to get what he wanted. You doubt Alastor had time to cause that kind of damage these days, not to mention the interest.

So the one culprit for the mess that sat in front of you had to be… oh.

“Jesus. How’d you piss him off this time?” You genuinely ask, coming over to accompany Vox on the couch.

“Well—bzz— he’s always pissed about something. Today’s tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of—mhh—me,” Vox sighed deeply and winced as he sat up.

“Why, do you like the new look?” Coming from anyone else, the comment would have been an attempt to lighten the mood. However, Vox only meant to condescend the baffled look in your eyes.

‘Why are you just sitting there? Help me,’ his eyes, well, what’s left of his eyes said.

You sigh and get up, stopping to stare down at him one last time, “So, what do we need to fix this?” 

He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I got the hell out of dodge before I had the chance to grab a spare—szc—screen so—“ he pointed to the area around his face, “anything to stop my fucking face from chipping off would be great.”

“So, like what? Fucking ducktape?” your attempt at a joke fell flat when the expression on his face didn’t move. 

He simply grimaced. 

You frown and look longingly towards your kitchen, “I’ll see what I have.”

You end up settling for ducktape after all. A purely comical solution to what can only be described as a miserable situation.

You patched him up gently, your hand resting on the bottom of his screen and covering the chipped part, as delicately as possible, with ducktape.

“You know, it would be kind of funny. The ducktape, I mean,” you try to smile, “…but it’s not funny.”

For once in his entire existence, it seemed Vox had nothing to say. No smart-ass remarks or egotistical words fell from his mouth. Only quiet silence as he breathed shakily in and out.

You couldn’t help but analyze his actions in your head. He must be getting sick of it, being treated like garbage by Val, by Alastor, by everyone who should respect him.

Except Vox’s empire, his power, any of it couldn’t help in this regard. Valentino was apart of his life in hell, and quietly it was dawning on Vox that even he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

Not entirely anyway. They needed eachother in some sick sense. Vox knew this, and now it seemed so did you.

Your heart ached for the man. In all of his terrible ways he seemed to be finding that cruelty was a double sided sword. Except this time, he got stabbed straight through.

You finished patching him up in silence, before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top, undamaged side of screen.

Your thumb caressed the area of his cheek softly. He shut his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, frowning deeply.

You sit down next to him once again. “You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

He nodded weakly, partly because he didn’t want to upset his head injury. But also partially to show you how vulnerable he felt at the moment. Although an upsettingly subtle que, he gazed up at you in hopes you would just take care of him without him having to ask.

Thankfully you catch on. You guide him up from the couch and rub his back gently while leading him to the bedroom and sitting him down.

“I have some t-shirts and sweatpants in the closet. I’m gonna go get you some water,” you say, soothingly rubbing his back before leaving.

When you come back, he already changed into comfier clothing and set his work clothes on a chair near your bed, in order to not wrinkle them.

He lays curled up on the bed with his eyes open, looking as if he was about to cry. You cringe at the thought. You’d been awkward enough tonight, Vox crying did not need to add to that.

You come over to him with the iced cold cup, sit him up right, and place it in his hands.

“Drink,” you command. He does, without hesitation. Jesus, you think, Vox taking orders. Thats new. 

After downing the whole glass in one large swig, he sets it on the bed side table. 

“He threw a f—fff—ucking wine bottle at me,” Vox said glumly.

You were just happy he was talking again. You cuddle up close to him on the bed, taking him under your arm, trying not to mind the less than ideal way the corner of Vox’s screen poked into your jaw. Oh well, Vox seemed comfortable enough.

He curled closer to you, sinking into your side and shutting his eyes, but not with the intention of falling asleep.

“I’m sorry. He’s such a douchebag,” And what? Vox isn’t? Your inability to comfort him was weighing unbareabley on your mind. Do better.

“But you’re safe now, sweetheart,” you pull him closer to you under the blankets, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Vox hummed, the sides of his mouth flickering down as the lump in his throat grew tighter. 

You kept going, “You handled it so well. You get to relax now, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen under my watch.”

It was stupid, Vox thought. He was an overlord, a powerful one at that. Protection was below him. But so was getting fucked up by his angry boyfriend and running off to his side pieces apartment, so who knows?

In hindsight, it was his fault. He was sloppy in his ways of manipulation tonight and Val had caught onto him. Well, in a figurative and literal sense, he supposed.

Oh, how the powerful fall at the feet of those closest to them. Serves him right.

He knows you aren’t stupid. You knew what he said earlier about how Val’s ‘tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of him’ was a lie.

And yet, here you were helping him. Vox couldn’t wrap his head around it. Just as he couldn’t understand why you continued spewing such comforting words.

Words that, if you asked anyone else, he didn’t deserve. He stopped himself from dwelling on it when he felt the tears brew in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Vox,” you speak softly.

He burrows his screen in your chest. “No, you’re not,” he whispers, grasping onto your shirt softly, “And I thought I was the—spzz— the liar.”

“I’m not lying. It takes a lot to survive that crazy ass moth. Let alone, everyday. I am proud of you,” you plant a kiss on the top of his head.

That was the breaking point. Vox tried to justify his tears in his mind; It’s not like he hadn’t already been embarrassingly vulnerable tonight, anyways. Could it get much worse? 

For you, maybe. As the waterworks flowed, you shushed him softly and rubbed his back. Honestly, you were a little worried about the tears fucking up his system, because of all the cracks in his head.

Thankfully, you didn’t notice any changes, basic bodily function-wise.

You found Vox’s outburst of tears specifically alarming. He muttered little apologies throughout. However, it seemed less and less about the tears themselves.

He clung to you and his the remains of his face in your shirt, hoping you wouldn’t get pissed off at the wetness around your collar.

You let him cry, and shush him with small gentle words of praise. He looks up at you, screen slick and shiny. You lean down to give him a watery, but gentle kiss.

The sad part, you think to yourself, is that you know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Things will go back to normal, Vox’s walls will come back up as if this never happened, and he’ll continue seeing Valentino. He’ll act as if he never confided in you, and once again, you two will only be an occasional good-fuck.

There was no lesson in any of this. Almost as if the whole experience was completely futile. Nothing would change, and Vox and Val would continue in their toxic, horny, power struggle. Vox using Val to his advantage, Val getting pissed off and fucking him up. 

What did you expect? Well, you’d just about accepted this fact when Vox, half asleep, all cried out, and sleepily drooling on your shirt, muttered three small words.

“I love you.” 

a/n — link to part two is here

[ma1dita]

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️” 

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions. 

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

[minisugakoobies]

Best friend’s bro trying to cheer OC up when they come home

🥺🥺🥺 Oh my god, YES, that is definitely something San would do!

So here's 700+ words about it. No warnings, other than PINING oh my god the pining!

******

Meetings with your editor are never your favorite thing. But today's meeting was especially stressful, given all the "cutting back" going on at work. The staff size is shrinking and you feel like your neck is on the chopping block.

It feels like you've run the gauntlet by the time you get home. Mentally exhausted, back aching from holding yourself upright so rigidly during the meeting, trying to look interested, like a good employee.

But to get into your apartment, you need a key, and right now, yours appears to have fallen into the Bermuda Triangle via your purse. Swearing profusely, you dig through your bag for a few minutes, before finally finding what you need.

The door opens, then stops suddenly, like there's a weight on the other side. "What the f-"

Nero greets you. Not on the ground. In the air.

You take a step back, baffled laughter leaving your lips. Your black cat is suspended in the crack of the doorway, bright green eyes blinking at you in similar confusion, San's hands gently wrapped around his middle. Around Nero's neck is his little fish-spotted bowtie, the one that makes him look like a proper gentleman.

"Nero?"

“Mrow?” 

"Good afternoon, sajangnim," San's voice says from behind the door. He shifts Nero slightly, like he's snapping to attention. "Welcome home."

"Thank you," you giggle, giving Nero a chin scritch. You push on the door slightly, and San steps back, bringing Nero into his arms.

"Hi Noona," he grins. HIs fingers stroke the back of Nero's neck, which is one of Nero's favorite spots. Which San knows now, too. He and Nero are inseparable. 

“When did Nero get a job as our doorman?” you ask, sliding your shoes off before slipping into your house shoes. 

“Just today. And he’s doing such a good job, isn’t he?” San rubs Nero’s ears, earning a loud rumble in return. “Yes, he is.” 

It’s too cute, the way San fawns over your cat. Like he knows Nero has a piece of your heart. So he protects him. Protects it. 

It’s too cute and it’s too much to think about. 

You don’t lay down so much as collapse onto your couch, a loose pile of bones sprawling across the cushions. San takes a spot on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Nero leaps from San’s arms up onto your legs, where he proceeds to bake biscuits in the meat of your thigh. 

“Where’s Haneul?” you ask. Normally when San’s sister is working third shift, she’s up by now, zoning out in front of the tv until she has to get ready for work. 

“Jongho took her out for breakfast slash dinner,” San informs you. “Just me and Nero home.” 

“Well, good thing he’s here to keep you in line. And he got a promotion today, so I think someone’s earned an extra treat tonight.” Nero’s purring grows, ears pricking up at the word ‘treat.’ 

San passes you the remote. He watches you scroll through your Netflix queue for a few minutes. As your fingers run over Nero’s smooth coat, you wonder idly if San’s hair feels as soft as it looks. 

“What about me?” San tips his head back, letting it rest on the cushion beneath your hips while he glances at you. “It was my idea to make him doorman.” 

He pouts, but not his usual pout, not the one that makes you want to give him everything in the world, but a comic pout, bottom lip stretched to its limit, meant to do nothing more than to make you giggle. Which it does.

“Why’d you do that, anyway?”

Something shifts in San’s eyes.

“You said this morning that you had a meeting today. I remember how stressed you were after the last two. So when I heard you in the hall, cursing like a sailor, I figured maybe you could use a laugh.”

“Oh.” Looks like San knows other things now, too. “Oh, yeah, that’s - I did have a meeting. And it sucked. So, um, thanks.” Too many emotions swirl through you, your voice shrinking as you speak, unsure how to express how you feel. Or if you even should. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course.” When he smiles, your chest physically aches. “Anything to see you smile, Noona.” 

There goes another piece of your heart.

*********

Previous installments of bff's lil bro San: one two three four

Tagging a few people who I think are interested @moni-logues @kiestrokes @augustbutwinter @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @yeontan-my-love

[eisforeidolon]

Jared: Thank y'all for bringing us out here, we're very excited, it's obviously been very - well, I haven't had a job, as is made clear by my [scratches at beard] ... fur vest I have on my jaw, apologies.

Jensen: How do you live with this? [gestures to his hair] I don't - this is - it's awful.

Jared: Not by choice.

Jensen: I really need the strike to end so I can get my hair cut.

Jared: Yeah. Yeah, I know, right?

Audience member: Is that what's stopping you?

Jensen: Is that - yes.

Jared: What did you say?

Jensen: She's like is that what's stopping you.

Jared: [makes face of exaggerated surprise]

Audience member: It was an honest question!

Jared: An honest question. I'm gonna give him twenty bucks and be like go buy some scissors and just [makes scissors motion by ends of his hair]

Jensen: My wife the other day she was like, how long we goin' with this? And I'm like, shut your mouth.

Jared: I had this during -

Jensen: [exaggeratedly flips his hair] You shut your mouth.

Jared: I had [does less comically exaggerated hair flip] - you'll get better at it, don't worry. Give it, like, 15 seasons [Jensen laughs]. I had this conversation with Gen. During COVID, I didn't shave at all. And after I finally trimmed down to get ready for - the show that he and I worked on together, I was flipping back through pictures? And I just saw this picture of me with this massive, smelly-looking, nasty beard, and I'm with Gen [motions like holding onto someone] -

Jensen: Why is it smelly and nasty? What do you mean? You can still shower when you have -

Jared: You can't shower your beard!

Jensen: Yes you can.

Jared: No, I think untrue.

Jensen: Listen, there was a beard on this face for a particular role that became its own - I think it had its own zip code. Had to get an extra cell phone for it, it made phone calls, I just stuck it in there. It had - I had more products for the stupid beard than I did for any other part of my body, which isn't much. But yeah, it's a thing.

Jared: Fair enough. I'll look into showering it.

Jensen: Yeah, beard wash.

Jared: A separate beard shower. But I was flipping through pictures, like, two months later when I was back to presentable and I looked at her and I was like, you love me. And she goes, yeaaah? And I was like no no look at this picture. You stayed with me, you love me. [Jensen cracks up] 'Cause it looks like - I'm gonna post it today, it looks like a mountain man that's, like, stolen some little fucking innocent girl. [?] your phones today. Anyways, before we just talk about beards -

Jensen: Too late.

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P4

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: It’s your last day alone with Adrian before he starts preschool so you try to make the most of it.

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia, internalized homophobia

A/N: Sorry we’re a day late! My schedule was a little busier than usual yesterday. I also posted this on my ao3 adriansglasses. Hope you guys enjoy!

You race towards Adrian in the parking lot of the old video store turned headquarters.

“Where are you going?! Can you please just talk to me for a second?!” You call after him.

“If you’re just gonna call me a stupid, reckless, liability then I don’t wanna hear it.” He says, continuing to walk. He was clearly just spitting out words he’d heard Murn or Harcourt say about him. You grab his hand, halting him from walking any further away from you.

“You could have died!” You tell him.

“So what?! It would have been for the greater good anyway!” He turns to look at you. “Everybody knows I’m the most expendable!” He tells you as if he thinks he’s speaking in cold hard facts.

“No, you’re not! You shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way.” You argue with him.

“You’re more important than me! You can live without me, but I can’t live without you. That’s just a fact, (Y/N). That’s how it is with everyone in my life.”

“You idiot.” You say, as you pull him into your first kiss.

September 12th, 1994

Today was the last weekday you’d be alone with Adrian before he started preschool, so you wanted it to be special. You held his hand as you walked into Henelotter Video to let him pick out a movie or two. All he wanted to do was have a guys’ night with Gut and Chris. He looked up to them so much. The plan was to get pizza and rent a movie or two. Your mission was to pick an age appropriate movie for Adrian that wouldn’t bore Gut and Chris. Luckily that wasn’t a problem when Adrian picked up the original Star Wars. He was going through a huge hyperfixation with Space lately. You smiled.

“I think that’s a great choice, buddy. Have you ever seen it?” You ask smiling.

“No, Dor has a picture on his wall!” Adrian told you. You thought back and remembered he was right. Gut did have a Star Wars poster on his wall. You also knew Chris was fond of the series in his adulthood and would often crack jokes about it, despite saying he’s not a nerd.

“Star Wars it is then.” You smiled.

“Rey, can we play on the games?” Adrian asked, pointing towards two arcade games by the checkout.

“You wanna play on the games?! You wanna on the games?!” You say as you lift him up, shaking him, pretending to drop him and holding him upside down as he giggled. He loved it when you did this. You’d found that out the first night you were here. You start to tickle him before setting him down on the stool in front of the arcade game. You placed a coin in the machine and let him play.

While he played, you wrote as many notes as you could. His future self had to find one of them in their future headquarters. Before you left you stuck them under floorboards, behind toilets, in ceiling beams, next to light fixtures, anything you thought might be permanent and you’d put two on the couple rare pieces of furniture you knew were still in the building, just some shelves and chairs. You wrote not to open them until the date you left your own timeline on the envelope and then you brought younger Adrian home.

On your way home you had an idea to keep him busy for the day, so you stopped at your local comic book store. You walked him all the way to the back where you were happy to see the Dungeons and Dragons section was still where it is in the future. It was smaller, but still there. They even had a children’s beginner’s guide that was simplified for younger players. Everything was perfect. You collected the cheapest option of all the materials you’d need and even had a little of your allowance leftover to let Adrian pick out a miniature. Before you’d left your own timeline, your Adrian had been trying to teach you how to play. Maybe if you taught his younger self how, you’d be better at it when you got back to your Adrian. You looked down and Adrian was missing. You panicked for a second before turning to see Adrian staring at the comic books with his chosen miniature in hand. He looked in awe at the heroes on all the covers.

“They’re really cool, aren’t they?” You smile.

“Yeah.” He whispers in awe, deep in thought.

“Well you are just as smart and just as cool and just as brave and just as strong as them.” You smile, pulling him into your arms and heading to check out. “And you can fly too!” You say as you move his body through the air to checkout. He giggles until you place him on the ground to pay for your stuff. Then you head home for real this time.

You taught Adrian how to play DND long into the afternoon. He seemed to be really interested in it, but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. This is Adrian after all. Even after Gut and Chris came home, you kept playing. They were busy in Gut’s room listening to music anyway. You could hear Kiss coming from under the door. You didn’t get up from your game of DND until you heard the doorbell ring. You opened the door to meet the pizza man. You gladly paid him and got your pizza.

“Gut, Chris! Pizza’s here!” You yelled upstairs. “Ready for the movie, kid?” You asked Adrian. He smiled, giving you a nod. “You go grab the VHS tape from my bag and I’ll go get the boys, okay?”

“Okay!” Adrian yelled, running towards the front door where your bag was hanging.

You made your way upstairs to find Gut alone in his room. “Where’s Chris?” You ask.

“He’s in the bathroom.” He barley looks up from his gameboy.

“It’s time for dinner. Can you go help you brother? I’m pretty sure I can hear him digging in the cupboard, trying to reach for the paper plates, but we both know how clumsy he is.” You give him a sympathetic look, silently pleading. He sighed putting down his game of Zelda.

“Fine.” He said getting up and heading downstairs.

“Thank you!” You thank Gut before walking towards the bathroom.

You were just going to knock on the door, but you didn’t realize it was already cracked. When you accidentally pushed it open you came face to face with Chris. He was covered in Diane’s makeup. You both froze.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Chris started.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re wearing eyeliner and you’re about to put on lipstick…” You try to hold back a smile. You knew he talked a big game, but at heart was just a kid.

“I was just trying to make my face look like Kiss! Please don’t tell my dad! He’ll think I’m gay!” He begs, mortified.

“Putting on makeup doesn’t make you gay…and even if you were gay…” You sigh. “The world won’t always be this fucked up. I promise. We’ve made tons of progress…even if it doesn’t feel like it in Evergreen, Washington.”

“I’m not gay!” He stands his ground, still scared.

“I’m not saying you’re gay.” You say calmly, giving him the patients he’s never really been given before.

“I like girls!” He says adamantly.

“I know… I’m just saying… IF you liked girls AND guys…no matter who you like… it’s okay.” You smile at him. Thirteen is a confusing age on its own. When you’re Christopher Smith, only living son of the White Dragon…it’s a lot worse. You watched him avoid your gaze, staring at himself in the mirror. “Dinner’s here. Meet me downstairs soon or else Gut and Adrian will eat it all.” You smile.

“Save me some and I’ll be down in a minute?” He asks, his voice trembling.

“Of course.” You smile, closing the door and heading down the stairs. You pause on the stairs to take a deep breath. You have no idea if what you’re doing is for better or worse anymore. On one hand you could be helping Chris, but on the other you could just be putting him in more danger with his dad. When you get to the bottom of the stairs you sit down, trying to compose yourself. With your eyes closed, you can hear two little feet running towards you.

“Hey, bro!” Adrian yells, crashing into you, climbing you like a tree to get into your lap.

“Hey to you too, bro.” You try to give him a smile.

“Bro, hurry up! I wanna start the movie!” Gut walks over and calls up the stairs. You don’t even have to ask where Adrian learned that.

“Can you help me with pizzuh?” Adrian asks.

“Yes, I can help you with your pizza.” You smile. “Gut, let’s just go eat. Chris is gonna be a minute.”

“He’s taking forever.” Gut whines.

“I know, but just give him a minute. He’s had a long day.”

“He was ranting about his dad again. He’s a fucking dick. Sometimes I wanna kill him.” Gut says quietly.

“Yeah! Kill him!” Adrian repeats in agreement. If only anyone was there to understand how funny a 3 year old Adrian Chase advocating to kill August Smith was. You just laughed. Usually you would tell Gut to not use such harsh language around Adrian, but he had already said fuck so many times. You couldn’t undo what happened before you got there, not that you could change anything anyway, and you couldn’t be mad at Gut for feeling this way either.

“I know you’re upset because Chris is your friend and you care about him, but sometimes you just have to let him deal with things in his own way, so he can grow.”

“We’re more of a family to him than that asshole.” Gut says, dropping a piece of pizza on his plate.

“I know and I promise one day he’ll come to terms with that. Right now he’s just not ready.” You give Gut a sympathetic look. You ached for these boys. Gut and Adrian’s dad left and Chris’… well it was no secret nobody wanted him in the picture.

After dinner you settled in the living room to watch Star Wars. Adrian was very adamant on the seat chart. He pulled you all to the seats he decided he wanted you to sit in. When Gut tried to move he objected.

“No! Rey has to sit between you and Chris!” He objected.

“Where are you gonna sit, Adrian?” You asked.

“Oh your lap!” He said this like it was obvious. This was all just his elaborate plan to be able to sit next to all three of you. Chris hadn’t said much since you caught him. You weren’t sure if he was sad or just embarrassed, but you didn’t press further. Gut was probably too tired to argue with his 3 year old brother, not happy about having to return to school tomorrow, and you just wanted the option that made the most people happy so you settled in, letting Adrian cuddle into your arms. You smiled as the movie started, hugging Adrian closer. You were never a huge Star Wars fan before you dated your boyfriend. You hadn’t even actually seen the first movie. You had never watched it without him. Even now he was still there, even if he wasn’t in the form you wanted him to be. You were a little sad, but you knew you’d see your Adrian again someday.

After the movie you tucked little Adrian into bed. You sat on the bed, missing your Adrian deeply. You played his voicemail. You had borrowed an old Walkman from Diane so you didn’t have to keep asking for Chris’ tape recorder.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking maybe I could bring takeout home from the restaurant and we could just have a movie night? I just wanted to know if you were feeling chicken parm or meatballs or if you wanted to just scratch dinners and have me bring home a pizza. Just call me back when you get this. I’m really proud of you- uh…not that I’m not always proud of you. I’m like totally proud of you all the time and I’m rambling again and this voicemail is about to be like 10 years long, so uh bye I love you.”

“We did have our movie night… just not how either of us expected…” You whisper, as a tear falls.

You restarted the voicemail again.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking maybe I could bring-“ You take off the headphones when you hear a small fist pounding on your door. 3 year old Adrian probably had a nightmare again. You open the door and he rushes into your room.

“Monstor in my cwoset!” He cries.

“There’s no monster in your closet.” You smile, getting at knee level and giving him a hug.

“Monstor!” He insists, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looks really scared. The least you can do is show him nothing’s there and if that doesn’t work, let him sleep in your room. Normally he would sleep with Diane, but she had to go back to the law office after shift at fennel fields to fill out some extra paperwork. It was stupid they were keeping their secretary so late, but she insisted it was a big case.

“Buddy, I promise there’s nothing there, but I’ll go check.” You hold Adrian’s hand, guiding him back to his room. “You sit on the bed and I’ll go check okay?” He let out a whine, sitting on his bed.

“Rey, I’m scawerd.” He cried. He was 3. All 3 year olds are scared of the monster in their closet.

“Adrian, look there’s nothing in-“ You open the closet, stepping backwards letting out a scream. Then Adrian screamed. Then Adrian screamed. You hear footsteps running towards Adrian’s room. You quickly closed the closet door. Adrian was shaking in his bed.

“What the fuck?! Are you okay?!” Gut busted into the room.

“Is somebody in the house?! I’ll fucking kill them!” Judging by what you knew about Chris’ past, he was probably serious. His dad had made him kill for a lot less and the Chase’s felt more like his real family anyway. He’d kill anyone for peace. What about someone trying to hurt his family?

“Everything’s fine!” You assure all three boys.

“Then what are you screaming about?!” Gut asks. You think for a second.

“Uh… I was just really excited! I just remembered the Backstreet Boys are coming out with a new album tomorrow! Can’t wait!” You say the first lie you could think of.

“Who‘s the Backstreet Boys?” Chris and Gut almost ask in unison.

Fuck. That was 96’ not 94’.

“Uh… I can’t believe you don’t know the Backstreet Boys!” Gaslight them. Gaslight the fuck outta these little kids.

“There’s a monstor in my cwoset!” Adrian starts again.

“Sorry. We’re playing a game. Speaking of games you should go finish that video game before your mom gets home and tells you it’s past your bedtime. Remember I’m the cool one, not her.”

“Bro, I can’t believe you still have a bedtime.” Chris laughs as you push the two out of the room. You run back over to the closet.

“You don’t think my mom’s cool?” Adrian asks, his body barley fitting into the closet with his sword on his back. You crush him in a hug and start crying immediately.

“Please tell me this is real. Please tell me this isn’t some fucked up dream.” You cry in his arms.

“It’s not a dream. I’m here. I found you.” He smiles, holding you tightly. You kiss him. His 3 year old self screams.

“Why am I screaming?” Adult Adrian asks.

“I just kissed the monster in the closet.” You laugh.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Three: Timeout

The on-campus suspension wasn't that bad. It beat riding in the car with Dick. I finally managed to stop crying before we got to the school, so I had enough time to hold the icepack in my lunch to my eyes to look normal again. Mr. Ames sent me straight to the counselor's office anyway. The counselor was new, or I didn't recognize him. I sat down and looked around until he tapped on the desk with his pen. "Hey, Jason, I'm Mr. Finney... Can we talk about yesterday?" he asked. "Short-term memory's shot, but I'll give it a try on one condition," I replied. Mr. Finney nodded. "Can you open that window? I'm feeling shut in." I wasn't joking. I hid it well, but I'd developed claustrophobia from the accident. "Of course," Mr. Finney replied as he opened the window for me. "Would you like the door cracked?" I shook my head. "You were saying?" I asked. "Can we talk about the fight yesterday?" Mr. Finney repeated. I nodded. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I should've had better control over my feelings," I mumbled. "Jason, what were you feeling at the time?" Mr. Finney asked. The last thing I wanted to talk about was how I felt. "I was just sick of feeling weak," I answered. It wasn't a lie. I didn't have any reason to lie. That was the last substantial thing I contributed to the conversation. He wasn't bad at his job, not by far. I think he knew I'd be shut off. I'd give him nothing but breadcrumbs. "How long have you been claustrophobic?" Mr. Finney asked.

"I started having symptoms in April," I answered, "It's January now. Nine months."

"Because of the accident?" Mr. Finney questioned. I nodded. I shut my eyes as I recalled what it felt like to be trapped between my mother's body and the debris from the explosion. "Jason?" "I'm done talking. I don't-. I'm sorry," I stammered. Once I had the thought in my head, it took a while to push it back down. I squeezed my hands together to stop them from shaking. "Can I go now?" "Sure, Jason... You can go," Mr. Finney replied, and I walked to the designated campus suspension room. I'd never been back there before. I worked on homework while I was there until the lunch bell rang. Alfred made me two chicken wraps for lunch and a cup of pudding. After lunch, Bruce came to talk to Mr. Ames in person. They had a long conversation that resulted in Bruce taking me home early. "What's wrong?" I asked. Bruce shook his head. "Nothing. I want to know what happened between you and Dick this morning," Bruce whispered. I looked out the window. "You can't pick me up early from school to make me apologize," I replied. "What happened?" Bruce asked once more. I didn't want to talk about it. Maybe I should've. It might've helped. "Fine, but that's not why I picked you up early. I almost forgot we had to reschedule your Wednesday for today." "So, nothing on Wednesday?" I asked.

"Ophthalmologist on Wednesday morning and the optometrist right after, but you'll be there for the second half of school," Bruce replied.

"Are my glasses ready?" I asked. "They should be," Bruce answered. Even after my orbital bone fracture healed, I couldn't see well out of my right eye. "But they also want to see if Monday affected your sight." I grew silent. I knew Bruce wanted me to talk about what happened, but I didn't feel like talking about that. "Is Dick gone?" I asked. "No, he's gonna be here until the end of the week," Bruce replied, "Business..." I rolled my eyes. Business. "Don't be like that," Bruce chastised me.

"Be like what? I'm just peachy," I muttered. I knew Bruce was short with me, and I wanted to push him. I just needed him to snap back. "I have a role to play, Jason," Bruce explained. "You have a lot of roles. Hero, philanthropist, businessman, bachelor... Oh, and an involved father. Guess we both forgot that one, huh, Bruce?" I chuckled. Bruce pulled over on the side of the road and pointed his finger in my face before catching himself. "Hope you enjoyed that. That was your last cheap shot, Jason. I'm serious. You're on thin ice," Bruce warned. I grinned. "I've got tons more, though," I joked. "Enough!" Bruce yelled. I grew silent. "Jason, you've been more insufferable now than you've been in months. I'm sick of it. You have until we get to the doctor's to get it together. I get it. I do," Bruce berated me. He'd finally gotten tired of me pushing him. I didn't expect that to be the last straw, though. I shut my mouth and let him drive me to my appointment. I didn't know what to say to him anyway. I got what I wanted, and it was a hollow victory. I didn't have to see my Wednesday doctor, but Bruce made me go to a pulmonologist twice a month after my lung collapsed again during a bout of pneumonia in October. It was painful. The nurse checked me in and asked me a few questions before sending the doctor in. I sat on the hospital bed, staring at her as she checked my breathing for herself. "You got in a fight. Did you experience any shortness of breath?" she asked. The pulmonologist was no-nonsense, and she quickly got to the point. "Nuh-uh," I replied as she let me pull my shirt down. "What about school? Do you have P.E.?" she asked. I shook my head. "Any concerns or changes?" "Nope," I replied. She nodded. "Okay, what's wrong? Not a single joke?" she questioned. "I've told one too many today," I replied, "And today kind of sucked..." She nodded and sent me out to Bruce. Bruce embraced me as soon as I walked out the door. I would've pushed him away any other day, but I needed it then. I hugged back, and he pulled away. "I love you. I don't say it enough," Bruce whispered.

I walked ahead of him so he couldn't see me crying. He wouldn't start the car when we got to the parking lot. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "You wanna grab a bite to eat before we go home?" Bruce asked. I nodded. I almost felt like myself again, but it didn't last. There was an explosion down the street, and Bruce left me to sort things out. He parked me outside the restaurant, and I ordered food and sat in the car. All the anger and bitterness I had toward him came flooding back. I ate my food in the car and waited until Alfred came to pick me up. "Master Jason-." "It's fine, Alfred... Can we go home now?" I asked. I don't know. Maybe there was no use in trying.

[tobylovesspence]

Hi! Can you do a Scott tenorman x fem Cutecore reader? Scott tenorman is from South Park if you didn’t know, if it’s to hard or you just don’t want to write for that then can you do a Miles Fairchild x fem,cutecore reader? It’s fine if not,anyways have a lovely day/night!

OMG MARI YOU ARE SO COOL! You have a lovely day/night. I had to write for Scott the second you brought him up. So here's our lovely boy trying to charm.

Warning: nothin really, just 9th graders having crushes on eachother, fluff.

Scott was a quieter kid, he listened his music, bullied fourth graders (Cartman's bitch ass) with his friend group and played video-games in class. You weren't as quiet, running around with your friends, wearing pretty and flashy outfits to school and being honestly, the smartest kid in class.

Your newest cute outfit however had all his focus on you recently, your bell bottoms adorned with not only patch flowers but your own scribbled flowers, a plain tank-top and a cute pink sweater. It matched your Mary Janes that you wore constantly. And it had his eyes all over you, he was the average 15-year-old boy, obsessing over a girl in his class.

He tried desperately for the next few days to win you over with his bad boy act, and honestly it did. "Dude, you're a loser." His friends laughed, throwing a comic from one to the other. "I just don't see why you're hung up on that one girl, there are like...forty-seven others in this town." He scoffed. "I'm not 'hung up' on her, i'm just testing my charm." His friends scoffed and laughed. "Well I heard from her friends that it's working, she's like super into you."

So Scott had a plan, he'd ask you out today. Maybe today was three weeks after that conversation but he'd ask today. Only problem, you had those stupid cutesy Mary Janes on, that dumb heart sweater and that stupidly pretty pink skirt. And even worse you smiled and waved when you saw him.

"Hey Y/n..." He mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his waist, giving him a short side-hug. "Hey Scotty!" You giggled and he swore he might melt right there. "It's Scott." He muttered, keeping his 'mean, tough guy' act up. You however did not seem to care if he was stoic with you as you smiled and nodded. "Yep, but I'm calling you Scotty anyway." He could feel himself smiling, you had a charm no boy could resist.

"Hey Y/n..." You looked up at him from your phone with a smile and a tilt of your head, "Yeah?" He noticed you had pink glittery lip gloss on and he just wanted to kiss you right then and there. He truly thought about it, and the way the glitter would stain his own lips. "Scott, you there?" He's brought out of his daydream by your confused face. And he just goes for it. He cups your face in his hands and smears your pretty lip gloss all over both of your lips as he presses his lips to yours. You squeak quietly, taken aback by his actions before leaning into the kiss with ease.

Scott leaned back with a large smile, a rare thing to see. "Go out with me...please." The 'please' was quiet and whispered and you cracked a smile yourself. "Yes."

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

And so you went out with him, deciding to walk around the mall. You running into every cute clothing store you could find and him awkwardly following you like a puppy. Once you ran into a comic store he was confused. "You like this kind of stuff?" You shook your head, "Not really, this is more for you to have fun looking around." Your eyes lit up forever as you picked up a stuffed animal. "But I also like the Hello Kitty and Sailor Moon stuff!" He chuckled, tilting his head as he watched you rummage through the stuffed animals.

"Oh my gods!" He raised his eyebrow and you pulled out a small penguin, he had no idea why a small penguin with a hat and bow had you so excited. "He's Tuxedo Sam, my favorite Sanrio character." you giggled as if it was obvious, he was even more confused. "Sanrio?" You raised your brows. "You don't-...actually it makes sense you don't know, nevermind. It's a Hello Kitty thing." And then he got it. "Ah, I see. You want him?" He asked, motioning to the stuffed animal you still cuddled in your arms.

You nodded softly and he chuckled. "Hand him over, I'll go pay." You raised a brow, "Do you have enough?" He pretended to be offended, "Y/n, are you calling me poor?" You laughed and shook your head, handing Sam over to him. "No, I'm just sayin that cause I don't have enough. My allowance wasn't as much as usual." He nodded. "Don't worry, I got enough for little Sammy here." He joked, and you followed him to the counter where he payed for it and handed it back to you. "Alright, any other clothing stores you wanna walk through? Or are we at that point when I buy you every cute food item you see?" He looked down at you and you laughed, "Nah, let's go look at your kind of stuff now." You blushed and cradled the small stuffed animal in your arms.

So now you had a quiet sweet boyfriend named Scoot who took you shopping and read you his comics.

[devilishlydumb]

So about the fics you’re writing… the larthur one is very appealing tbh😭 but I’d die for landoscar???

Could we have a snippet of both? Pretty please🥺

hiiiii! i'm gonna assume you want the landoscar harry potter au snippet because i'm very proud of this one hehe but if you meant the agents of shield one, just let me know!

anyways, both snippets under the cut! ♡

landoscar harry potter au, but make it oscar staring from afar while ignoring his friend group (the friend group in question: arthur, logan, dennis and an oc meant to represent the audience)

“There’s no way Max Verstappen is that funny,” Dennis says, scrunching his nose at the sight, “I see the guy on a daily basis and he’s never even tried to crack a joke.” They all focus on the scene before their eyes. Max keeps talking animatedly, everyone around him completely enraptured. Lando giggles, Alex laughs, George looks like he wants to rip out his own ears and Charles is just a mix of confused and fascinated. It checks.  “My brother says you just, and I quote, have to look past the cover. Whatever that means,” Arthur has his mouth full, making the words not as clear as he probably thinks they are, “I think he’s just been pining for years unable to say a thing to the guy. So.” Oscar’s eyebrows rise very comically if Nora’s reaction is anything to go by. His attention goes back to the group, zones in on Lando despite Charles being the reason why he looked again.  The thing is: he doesn’t like Lando Norris. He’s never liked him. Or. Well. That’s just not true. He used to. Like him, that is. And then the whole third year prank happened and Logan cried, Nora spent a night in the infirmary and Oscar decided that he hated the guy. Dumb teenage crush be damned. And yet… Everyone seems to like him. Adore him. He’s seen people from other houses cheer for Hufflepuff during matches dressed up in Lando jerseys, girls and boys alike swooning every time he spots the snitch. Oscar doesn’t get it, he’s literally just some guy. Sure, a somewhat funny and ridiculously charming guy, but… Just some guy at the end of the day. At least that's what he keeps telling himself.

and larthur being soft and tentative because that really is just their whole dynamic in this fic, so, yeah.

Dinner started approximately half an hour ago. Give or take ten minutes. And Lando is still finishing getting ready, Arthur waiting for him by the door, shoulder leaning against it. He had insisted on waiting despite the Brit’s reassurance that he would be fine on his own, that it was indeed part of his brother’s wedding weekend and while Lando could afford to be a little late, Arthur couldn’t. Not really. It hadn’t mattered. “On your left.”  Lando’s head snapped in that direction, finally seeing the shoe he had been looking for. They were late. So late. He was sure Max would be planning his death by now. Deserved. Truly. “You have the keycard? I think I lost mine. Who loses a keycard? S’not like we did much today! Where…? I don’t get it. Should be somewhere… Around here.” Lando’s voice is high-pitched, stress flowing through his veins.  Last thing he wants is to ruin their weekend. Which he won’t, but he’s nervous, so. Not like he can properly think things through. It’s not until Arthur is standing right in front of him, hands on his shoulders, worried expression on his face, that Lando allows himself to take a deep breath.  “I texted Charles. They know we’re late, it’s okay. Just, uh… A few threats about tomorrow’s dinner being the most important and all that.” He says it like it’s nothing, but Lando feels his insides churn. He nods a bit, looking at him, truly looking at him. Arthur’s brows are furrowed, like he’s worried Lando might snap at any time now. The weight of his hands on his shoulders is comforting, makes him feel centered, stops his mind from going into a spiral of “what ifs”. Lando manages a small smile in his direction, his hands traveling to the other’s forearms, squeezing lightly.  Thank you. I don’t get it. Thank you. Arthur smiles back, softly, before letting his hands fall down his arms until they’re not touching anymore and Lando’s taken back to Croatia.

hope u enjoy them both, let me know if you want to see more! ♡

[tickle-bugs]

Hi! I had this super cute Korra idea and was wondering if you could write a fic for it. So like basically she and Bolin are earthending training, and he beats her and is like super gloaty about it, so she gets him back by encasing him in rock and well y’know…tickling him lol. I’d also love if you could throw in a raspberry or two!

Rock and Roll

Summary: After traveling the Spirit World, Korra returns home to the Air Temple. Familiar grounds beget familiar habits and she soon finds herself returning to her favorite hobby: pro-bending. Well...semi-pro, anyway.

Spoilers for the end of The Legend of Korra and the comics that follow the end of the series!

Korra’s reunion with Air Temple Island brought her a peace she hadn’t known she needed. Traveling with Asami had given her time to quell the one remaining tempest in her brain, the one that wrestled with the mint newness of her sexuality. It meant that when they finally arrived at the temple doors, Korra had only her friends on her mind. 

“Do you think everyone looks different?” Korra whispers to Asami, linking their fingers together. They step into the main courtyard. Korra breathes in deep. Still smells like home. 

“No. But I think you should go check, just to be sure.” Asami kisses her on the cheek, taking Korra’s bag off her back. “I’ll get our room together.”

“I love you.” Korra squeezes her hand. Asami beams. 

“Love you too.” She hefts Korra’s bag easily, having grown stronger during their travels, and wanders off towards the temple interior. Korra’s so occupied with watching her go, she doesn’t even notice Bolin and Mako stepping into the courtyard. 

“Korra!” Mako shouts with a laugh. Bolin gasps himself into a coughing fit, gesturing wildly. Korra sprints towards them and scoops them clean off the ground, cracking something in both of their spines with the force of the hug. 

“I told Mako something cool was going to happen today! I could feel it.” Bolin punches Mako’s shoulder and he grunts. 

“It’s good to see you guys. I missed you.” Korra tilts their foreheads together, tossing her arms around their shoulders. 

“Are you hungry? Mako was just about to make lunch.”

“Was I?” Mako deadpans. Bolin employs his absolutely lethal puppy dog eyes. Pabu scrambles atop his head to assist. Mako sighs deeply and waves for them to follow him.

…

Tenzin had been gracious enough to round up his family, promising every whining child and adult that they’d have a meal with Korra another time. Though Ikki and Meelo’s begging tugged on her heartstrings, she had the rare comfort of knowing they weren’t going anywhere. She could take a moment to relax with her friends without sacrifice. 

“Tell me everything. What did I miss?” Korra drums her hands on the table. Bolin stares very pointedly at Mako, who starts to hem and haw. He eats a dumpling instead of answering. 

“Mako started training with Fire Lord Zuko.” Bolin nudges him with his shoulder. Mako sighs. 

“You what?” Korra leans forward. Bolin does the same, batting his eyelashes at his brother. Mako glares at him. 

“That’s incredible, Mako. He seems like he’d be a great mentor.” Asami plucks a dumpling from the steamer basket. 

“He is. He’s seen and done so much! It’s incredible.” Mako gestures a little wildly, starry-eyed, and Korra chuckles. 

“Well, so have you.” Asami smiles. He turns a little pink and ducks his head. 

“You’re such a nerd. That’s what you were all nervous about?” Korra narrows her eyes teasingly, taking a dumpling. Mako scoffs and steals it from her hand. Before she can fight to get it back, he takes a triumphant bite and leans back in his chair. She loosely considers vaulting over the table, but she decides to save Pema the headache.

“No, he thought I was gonna tell you that he’s totally got a crush on Princess Ursa.” Bolin stretches innocently.

The room erupts into shouting. Mako busies himself with strangling Bolin while Asami and Korra pepper him with questions. Bolin paws at Mako’s face and chokes out a protest. Asami manages to pull them apart. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! She’s a smart, capable tactician…with pretty eyes…and nice hair…oh god.” Mako drops his head into his hands. Bolin pats his shoulder. 

The conversation flows from Mako’s love life--hopeless--to events in Republic City. Spirits don’t have a fantastic grasp on human affairs, but they seem confident in Zhu Li taking the Presidential helm, which is nice. As they chat, the stack of empty bowls in the sink grows more and more precarious. 

“Okay, what else…oh! We made another mover.” Bolin feeds small vegetable pieces to Pabu, who perches comfortably on his head. 

“What? Why?” Korra frowns. 

“Now that Varrick’s First Gentleman, he’s picking up a lot of his old hobbies. He told me he was struck with urgent inspiration to make his magnum opus.” Bolin gestures excitedly. 

“Beifong’s tired of babysitting him, so he’s on informal house arrest,” Mako snorts, leaning towards Korra. She snickers. 

“What’s the story?” Asami pinches Korra’s knee so she stops laughing—counterproductive, as it just forces her to stifle a yelp. 

“Nuktuk has laid down his arms as the hero of the south and taken up…wait for it…pro-bending coaching! He invents it! Turns out, his dad was one of the best benders in the world and Nuktuk wants to preserve the legacy!” Bolin gestures even bigger. Pabu nearly slides off of his head as he moves around. 

“Wait…isn’t that the plot of The Pebble’s new mover? The one about The Boulder?” Asami collects the empty bowls from the table and dumps them in the sink. As she comes back, she kisses Korra’s forehead. 

“Uh, noooooo. The Pebble’s grandfather was the pro-bender. For Nuktuk, it’s his dad. Totally different.” Bolin nods resolutely. Asami opens her mouth to argue, but Korra pinches her knee. Asami glares. Korra gives a shit-eating grin. 

“Right, sure. You two up for a friendly match, now that you’re a double pro-bender?” Korra leans on Mako’s shoulder.

“Oooh a Fire Ferret reunion? Count me in!” Bolin gasps excitedly. 

“Count me out.” Mako stands and stretches. 

“Aw c’mon, Mako! Where’s your competitive spirit?” Korra socks him in the arm. He returns the favor. 

“Knock yourselves out.” He laughs fondly, ruffling Bolin’s hair as he passes. 

“Guess it’s you and me then. Nuktuk, Hero of the Arena, versus…the Avatar.” Bolin makes a noise like a crowd cheering. 

….

“Come on, Bolin! Put your back into it!” Korra throws a boulder at his head. He pulls his hands apart and the rock shatters, submerging into the earth. 

“Taunting me isn’t gonna work. While you and Asami were out frolicking, Tenzin and Jinora showed me the path to inner peace. I’m totally chill now.” Bolin butchers a few Air Nomad forms and then nods, satisfied. 

“Is that right?” 

“Yep. I’m super zen.” Bolin closes his eyes and takes a meditative stance. Korra throws another rock at his head. He yelps and deflects at the last moment, scattering it to dust.

“Would you stop doing that?!”  

“Are you going to fight me?” She puts her hand on her hip. 

“Alright, you asked for it. No holding back.” He smirks. 

As she flips out of the way of a chunk of earth the size of a Satomobile, she’s quickly reminded why he was a pro long before she ever met him. She’s used to earthbenders with squat techniques. Bolin is fast. He moves earth like water, adapting quickly to shifts in gravity without breaking a sweat. 

She takes a rock to the torso and goes flying, skidding to a stop on her back. She narrows her eyes at him, flips back on her feet, and resumes her stance.

“Oh yeah, I’ve still got it.” He flexes. 

“Whatever. Lucky shot.”  Korra rolls her eyes. Bolin continues to flex, striking new and irritating poses. Pabu scampers out onto his bicep and copies him. Bolin turns unexpectedly and Pabu squeaks, scampering back to the solid ground of his shoulder. The poor thing slips and tumbles right into Bolin’s shirt with a terrified shriek. 

Bolin makes the exact same noise, followed by a string of frantic, high-pitched giggles and shouts. Pabu skitters around his waist and Bolin tries to grab him. Korra muffles her laughter into her hands. 

“P-Pabu!” Bolin squeaks, finally wrangling the fire ferret into his grasp. He starts sternly lecturing Pabu, but Korra’s long past listening. She’s too busy sowing the seeds of a plan. 

“Let’s go again.” Korra grins. 

“Best of five? Let’s do it.”

Korra and Bolin circle each other, locked in tense concentration. Korra moves first, launching stone after stone to where she thinks Bolin will be, rather than where he is. She breathes with each shove, doing her best to root her body to the earth. 

To Bolin’s credit, he easily manages her aggressive assault. He complains about it, sure, but he deflects or redirects every blow before it can break his stance. He splits a large boulder and pelts her with the pieces. She slides and flips out of the way, curving with the air rather than through it. Even though Bolin strikes her from beneath with a stone, Korra still manages to bend a bucket’s worth of water directly into his chest. 

Korra clenches her fist and the water flash-freezes. As it crackles into a solid up his body, Bolin stammers up a protest and wiggles fruitlessly against the ice. He strains every which way, the muscles in his neck tensing, but he doesn’t budge.

“‘Kay, so this definitely isn’t competition-legal. How about you let me go and we call it even?” Bolin blows his curl out of his face. 

“Mmm, nah. Best of five, remember?” Korra smirks, cracking her knuckles. She makes a big show of stretching. 

“I can’t fight you in ice. Ohhh, you’ve got a real scary face right now. Like…like Eska levels of scary—“

Korra bends away a chunk of the ice, leaving a perfect window for Bolin’s stomach. She pinches him there and he giggles once, sweetly. They blink at each other. Korra breaks out in a smirk. He starts to babble, shaking his head fervently, but he collapses into nervous snickers and incoherence when she gets closer.

“Tickling is cheating, c’mon--KorraKorraKorraaaah!” He squeals, bubbly giggles pouring forth faster than he can hope to speak. He wiggles as much as he can—not at all—and tries to suck in his stomach away from her fingers. She follows easily, poke-poke-poking at the softer parts of his stomach to make him jump. 

“This isn’t even a fair f-fight!” Bolin whines, shimmying like his life depends on it. 

“It’s not fun if it’s fair.” Korra shrugs. She bends away some ice from his ribs and plucks her fingers across them. His giggles somehow find more urgency, making his whole torso tremble. His voice rises in time with her fingers, cracking beautifully when she decides to tickle under his arms. He lets out a tumble of desperate syllables and hiccups.

“Ohmygod, move!” He snorts, oh wow, and keeps trying to escape. He attempts wide, pleading eyes but his nose keeps scrunching and preventing his progress. 

“Move, huh? Not stop?” Korra raises her eyebrow. Bolin buries his face in his shoulder. 

“Alright, tell you what. Surrender your victory and maybe I’ll let you go.” Korra tickles mockingly under his chin and Bolin snorts again, slamming his chin down. She spiders across the skin she can reach, avoiding his scrunching. She brushes his ear by mistake. 

Bolin’s voice leaps at least two octaves. He wrenches so hard that he actually cracks some of the ice around his shoulders. Korra grins like a demon. Bolin’s eyes widen. 

“I’m so telling Opal.” She snickers. 

“Don’t you dare!” His cheeks and ears burn bright red. She chases the blush with her fingers. Bolin cackles, whipping his head back and forth to no avail. She pokes at his collarbones and he yelps, hiking his shoulders as far up as he can. 

The ice crunches, then crumbles. Bolin stumbles forward, clutching his torso through the tail-end of his laughter. Korra backs up and starts awkwardly chuckling with something like remorse. 

“Hey, Korra?” Bolin narrows his eyes, deathly serious. “Run.”

“Threatening the Avatar?” She jokes weakly. 

Bolin sprints at her like a train as a reply.

She yelps and takes off, bending air to launch herself onto the temple roof. Bolin uses earth to follow suit, his serious demeanor melting into the giggly little ‘I’m gonna get youuus’ that one would expect from someone like him.

She misses her jump onto the next roof and Bolin catches her by the waist. Her loss of balance translates to him, unfortunately, and they both crash to the ground. Bolin pulls her close and rolls to break the fall, but he doesn’t release her from the bear hug. He giggles evilly in her ear. 

Oh shit. 

“Bolin, hang on—“

“Gotcha.” He grins, vibrating his fingers into her stomach. “Now, time to defend that championship title.” 

Korra squeals loud enough to send birds and spirits flying from the temple trees. 

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Alive

A/N: Did I spend two weeks wallowing in comics just to come out swinging with some Jason Todd fluff? ....yeah, i did. Also, this kind of combines the endings of the comic and animated versions of Under the Red hood. All that angst is the perfect excuse for me to give Jason Todd just a wee bit of love <3

Tags: Jason Todd x f!reader, Jason Todd x you, Jason Todd x Reader, Under the Red Hood, Jason Todd, Red Hood, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Batfam, Batfamily, DC Imagines, Red Hood x f!reader, Red Hood x you, Red Hood x Reader, The Joker, Death in the Family, Lazarus Pits

WARNINGS: Blood, swearing, panic attacks

Summary: After the events of Under the Red Hood, an injured and sullen Jason Todd appears at your door.

Word count: 2.8k+

*gif does not belong to me*

Growing up in Gotham City has taught you a few important lessons. 

The most important of which is that someone knocking on your door at two thirty in the morning is probably bad news. 

You toss the covers away with a sigh, snatching your phone and taser from the nightstand. Not that you were sleeping great anyway; insomnia is a ruthless bitch, especially in a crime-ridden city where simply existing at night was enough to get you killed. 

Sirens blare somewhere down the block, and red lights flash against your shitty blackout curtains. Speeding emergency vehicles are a nightly occurrence in Gotham, so you ignore the sounds and move towards the door. Calling your humble abode an apartment was pushing it, so it only takes a few steps to cross the shoebox of a studio and grasp the door handle. Some might label you paranoid for the amount of locks on your door, but there were many things in Gotham you’d like your apartment to stay free of. 

“What do you want?” You call to the unrelenting knocker, fumbling with the top lock. “It’s too damn early for you to be selling something.”

A barely audible cough reaches your ears, and you’ve never wished for a peephole so bad before. You hold your taser against the opening as you begin to crack the door, letting curiosity win out. 

Expecting to see someone standing in the hall, you pause upon first peeking out. The hallway is dark, even the 24-hour lights dimmed past their normally drab setting. No face greets you, instead you’re made to look down and find the source of the noise. A figure sits slouched against the opposite wall, rubber ball in hand. A sweatshirt hood falls over their face, and you immediately point the taser at them. 

Their head lifts a fraction, and you catch the gleam of white teeth in the darkness. “Easy, Bug.”

It’s barely a whisper, but you recognize the nickname and the voice instantly. “Jason?”

You kneel down to the floor, growing heavy with concern. His head falls back against the wall with a thud, and you reach out to cushion it. “Y’gonna i-invite me in or wha’?” 

The Red Hood didn’t usually ask permission to enter your apartment, given you’d known each other since first grade, so you took that as a bad sign. “Come on. Before someone else comes out.”

On a good day, Jason was heavy. Since the Pit and since he’d been running about Gotham again, his body was built and firm- a weapon. That, combined with the weight of his body armor, guns, crowbar, and various sharp objects on his person made him a living tank.

Today, not only was he in excess of three-hundred pounds of muscle and weapons, but he was soaking wet. All the way through his sweatshirt and tactical pants, into the fitted armor beneath.You allow yourself to act more as a crutch than anything, making Jason carry most of his own weight to your couch. 

He falls onto the cushions with a groan, and you’re quick to flick on the lamp. “Jesus, Jay.”

“Jesus had nothin’ t’do with it, Bug.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Jason to show up bruised and bleeding. You’d accepted that the first time it happened, and everytime he climbed into bed you’d gently trace his injuries until he dozed off. But today, you are having a hard time deciding where to start. 

With the sweatshirt hood still pulled over his head, you begin to catalog injuries. Blood drips from his ears and nose, and you’re pretty sure the latter is broken. Only half of his black domino mask remains in place. The exposed eye is bloodshot, though both pupils look equal. Jason is sweating profusely, black and white-streaked bangs plastered against his forehead. He has one hand clutched to his chest, while the other presses against his neck. 

“I’m gonna cut this off.” You hustle to grab your medkit, yanking bandage scissors out and slicing the hoodie straight up the middle. 

Jason hisses as you jostle his neck, and your brows draw together. “What’s wrong with your neck?”

You redirect the lamplight, and immediately gasp at the amount of blood soaking his tan undershirt and armor. “Fuck, is that all coming from your throat?”

With nothing for him to do but hold pressure while you get him stable, you fill his hand with gauze and replace it on his neck. Jason’s green-tinged eyes follow you groggily, dragging a few seconds behind each movement. You keep working, removing soaked clothing until he’s down to his boxers and every cut and bruise has been checked. At some point you’re sure he’s lost too much blood to stay conscious, and hastily begin suturing the massive gash on his neck.

Jason whines pitifully in his forced slumber, and you can only murmur reassurances aloud and stroke fingers through his hair until the painful part is done. In the end, you jostle him enough to crush up some vicodin with water and syringe it down his throat, mixing in antibiotics for good measure. Once you’re satisfied he won’t choke on the water, you take a moment to clean up his face. 

Your yellow washrag comes away stained with blood, but you can’t find it in you to be upset. You return to the couch, carefully wedging yourself onto the cushion and bringing Jason’s head to your lap. Your adrenaline is beginning to subside, and exhaustion replaces it. Jason breathes slow and quiet, and it’s enough to lure you towards sleep with just one question on your mind. 

“Who did this to you, Jaybird?” 

---

If there is anything Jason Todd hates, it's waking up.

After crawling out of his own grave and waking bruised and sore on the daily, it was his least favorite activity. Today, it seemed, would be no different. 

Jason’s eyelids feel like sandpaper and his torso screams with every breath. The familiar tug of medical tape is present on his neck and hands. Underneath the gauze taped near his throat, Jason feels the pulling of stitches as he swallows and works his jaw, and his mind throws flashes of the night before at him in shades of black and red. 

“It’s him or me! You have to decide!”

The gun clatters to the floor, and Batman turns his back. 

That particular memory was unsurprising. 

He remembers the sound of flesh slicing and the smell of his own blood on the floor. The Joker’s haunting cackle as he hooted at Batman’s betrayal of Jason. 

The explosion, and clawing out of the rubble. 

“Jason?”

It was then he realized he’s barely breathing, hyperventilating to the point where his chest burns and his fingers begin to turn blue. A hand touches his chest and Jason reacts by swinging blindly but only manages to offset himself from where he’s resting. His shoulder collides with a hard floor, and he scrambles until his back hits a wall. 

“Jay, stop.” The voice comes again, “Listen to me, or you’re gonna pass out.”

Jason’s brain grabs onto the words, replaying them over and over until a face pops into his mind. 

“...B-Bug?” 

“Yeah, Jaybird, it’s me. I’m coming over there.” 

He swallows, head tipping down in a nod. Bug was safe. She would take care of him. She always had. 

It’s Bug’s hand in his hair that coaxes his vision to come back to him. Jason blinks, the black spots covering his field of view lessening as he makes himself breathe deep. His chest is still on fire and his neck protests with every heaving breath, but the fingers scratching his scalp abate the panic to a manageable level. 

Jason reaches out, fingers twisting into the oversize crew-neck, his crewneck, that hangs loosely on Bug’s shoulders. He tugs until she’s flush against him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hiding his face in the fabric of the sweatshirt. The scent of her, like vanilla and the ocean and everything good mixes with her lingering perfume and washes over him. 

“Shh, Jaybird. I got you.” 

Tears dampen Jason’s face and Bug’s shirt as she cards fingers through his messy hair. Her hands gently pull his face up, and Jason forces himself to swallow the pain as their eyes meet. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” He croaks, unwilling to let his sarcasm die for just a moment. 

“Yeah, it’s weird, me being in my own apartment and all.” Bug shoots back, letting her hands graze his cheekbones before slipping to his shoulders. “Come back to the couch and let me check your stitches.”

Jason goes easily when Bug pulls at his hands. Joints creaking, he staggers back to the couch. Surprisingly, he sits upright, back to the cushions and bandaged hand on the armrest. Bug nudges the lever for the recliner, and Jason sighs as he stretches out. Her hands peel at the bandaging on his neck first, dabbing fresh gauze over what he assumed was leaking blood. 

“You’re not gonna ask what happened?”

Bug pauses, crystalline eye flicking to his face. “Do I ever?”

Jason concedes. “Fair enough.”

A single brow raises as she replaces the gauze on his neck. “Though you don’t usually show up with your throat near slit. Or wake up in your boxers having panic attacks.”

A weak laugh claws its way out of Jason’s mouth, and his fingers close around Bug’s wrist. “I usually wake up in my boxers.” 

She rolls her eyes, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “This is a bit extreme. Even for you, Red Hood.”

Any ounce of playfulness he’d been feeling moments ago was chased away by the memory of Batman- his foster Dad, Bruce- throwing a batarang at his throat. Of him letting the Joker live again, even after he’d beaten Jason to a pulp. It was almost as if Jason was not only back from the dead, but reliving the events that had brought him to the precipice. 

“You’re doing it again.” Bug states matter-of-factly, shaking Jason from his thoughts. 

“What?” He understands then he’s hyperventilating again, and appreciates the lack of pity on her part. “Sorry. It.. it was Bats.”

She tenses beside him, one hand ghosting up his knee and resting on his thigh. “He… Bruce did this to you?”

God, why does it sound so much worse when she uses his name?

“...Yeah.” Jason laces his fingers with the ones massaging his thigh. “I tried to make him choose. To make him-”

He stops himself. 

“-I just wanted him to choose me.”

Jason fucking hates how whiny it sounds coming out of his mouth. He bites back the tightness in his throat and refuses to let himself cry over Bruce. 

Bug blinks a couple times and settles herself cross-legged, facing him. “Choose you, or..?”

“Or him. The Joker.” Jason grits the name through his teeth. “The one wh-who-”

She shakes her head and squeezes his hand as the color drains from her face. “Killed you.”

His head snaps to her. “And almost killed you.” 

She stares at him then, and Jason’s hand reaches up to trace her left brow. The one intersected by a jagged scar, trailing all the way down to the corner of her mouth in a horrid mimicry of the Joker’s Glasgow smile. The scar that left her eye cloudy and blind, unable to be healed even by Bruce’s state of the art technology. No matter how many times Jason was killed by the Joker, Bug’s scar was his constant reminder that he had failed. 

“I’m alive, Jay.” She soothes, leaning into his shoulder and looping her arm across his midsection. 

“And that’s the problem with him!” Jason cries. “The Joker should be dead.”

He knows when he’s losing his composure, and it is sliding away quickly. Tears nip at his eyes, and Bug clambers carefully into his lap. She may be half-blind, but she is the best at understanding when the rage from the Pit is beginning to boil over. 

“I know, he should be. We were just kids, Jason.” Bug presses her forehead to his. “We were kids when he did what he did to us. But Bruce… you know he’ll never change.”

Jason works his jaw a moment, gathering up the motivation to speak without sobbing. “He just… I hate hating him, Bug.”

His hands clutch at her shirt, aimlessly searching for a hold, for anything to anchor him to this reality. Green floods his thoughts, raging against the sadness. Jason’s sanity is a sinking ship, being tossed by monstrous waves in the sea of emotions that is his mind. The Pit may have restored his memories, but it broke his ability to reason- to understand the complex emotions that came with everyday life. Talia al Ghul trained him to be a weapon, but in Gotham he was so much more. 

An orphan. 

A vigilante. 

Robin- The Boy Wonder.  The Red Hood. 

A son. 

Bruce’s son. 

Loved. 

Jason draws his knees closer to his chest, bodily bringing Bug flush against him. He seeks her lips out with his, desperate for  reassurance once again. Her hands are twisting in his hair and her legs tighten around his hips. Jason’s tongue runs along her bottom lip, seeking permission before moving on. Bug moans softly against him but chastises him when he attempts to grind his hips upwards. 

“You know I love you, but you need rest.” She speaks against his cheek, hot breath washing over Jason’s ear. 

He relents, cupping her cheeks with his hands. Two fingers follow the scar down to her lip, and Jason presses his lips there. “Only if you go to bed with me.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

-

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[literally-a-waffle-fry]

RED OKTOBERFEST: sweet little birds (part one)

Although the red Heavy weapons specialist had just woken up and showered,he now stood over the sink, eyeing himself in the mirror as he shaved his slightly stubbly face. He continued happily for a while until he was happy with his perfectly shaven jowls. He looked at himself again in satisfaction before hearing the Engineer politely knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey Partner! Just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready!" He paused lightly before remembering and excitedly blurted " Oh yes! How could I forget already?  Apparently, the administrator wants see us all...somethin' bout' some announcement." The Engineer mentioned before awaiting the fellow mercenary's response.

"Da...will be there in minute." The Heavy continued getting ready. He shifted himself into a pair of grey sweatpants and his signature shirt with fist symbols before exiting his room.

As Misha arrived to their kitchen area,he smelt bacon and pancakes. He sighed as he realized that Jane was doing the cooking today, as Jane had always said they needed an "True American Breakfast.". The heavy looked at everybody who was sitting at the table, who seemed to be in very good moods today.

   At the table, Scout and Pyro were sitting next to each other and discussing some comic book they had bonded over. Aside from them, The Sniper, Soldier, Engineer, and Demoman were laughing over some joke as they ate their first meal of the day. Which was rare, considering the Sniper barely left his small van for the mornings as he tended to grab his breakfast and eat in his van. Spy was sitting at the end of the table, smoking a cigar as he read his newspaper. And now, Misha sat at his chair, eating his meal happily as he watched the other mercenaries. Misha thought for a moment, realizing something was off.

"ATTENTION!! The blu team has announced a surrender and cease fire! Enjoy your breaks!" The Administrators voice had boomed throughout the building. Everyone looked at eachother quietly for a moment before Scout had jumped from his seat. "Well! I'm headed out! I got a hot date tonight anyways!" The Scout chuckled before walking away the room.

The Spy and Sniper had also now begin to leave toward their areas, and Soldier, Demoman, and Engineer had went for their morning workouts.

Heavy sat by himself, thinking deeply. Why did he feel so off today? "Oh.." he thought for a moment. He moved from his seat and grabbed a plate of food for the Medic. He then began to walk towards the Infirmary where the Medic must have been working. He looked around worried for a moment before seeing the Medic asleep on his desk. Misha had lightly tapped the Medics shoulder and the man sprung to life.

The doctor awakened slowly before he screamed and looked at the other with his blue, frightened eyes.

"Hoho Heavy! Don't scare me like zhat! You know I'm a light sleeper!" The medic barked loudly. Misha looked at him guiltily before the Medic had responded with a slight pout. "Oh...I'm sorry Heavy, is there somezing you need? You didn't get a papercut again did you?" Misha nodded his head no and moved closer to the Medic.

"Is Doktor okay? Seems like you had nightmare." Misha put his hand on the man's shoulder lightly in attempt to soothe him.

"Oh! No dear Heavy! I am perfectly fine! I'm so sorry about that. Still, vhy are you here?"

" Misha has news for Doktor! Administrator said we get a break! Blu surrendered! For now at least...puny babies." Misha responded happily as he cracked his knuckles in amusement.

"Oh! Wunderbar! Zhis means I can work on my experiments some more! Hoohoo!" Misha smiled lightly at the other man's excitement before thinking lightly.

"Shouldn't Doktor take a break?"

The doctor, who was currently finishing some scrambled notes from the night before, looked at the other in confusion."Vhat do you mean? I just can't abandon all my vork! So much time means so much I can do!"

The heavy placed his large hands on the Medics shoulder.

“Doktor, all this work is bad for you. Doktor needs break so he can come back and do more and better work later and not hurt himself. You are very important member of team and we can’t afford to lose anyone. Heavy will take you someplace nice. We will have good time, da?

The Medic looked at Misha as he grumbled slightly. "But Misha! There is so much I must do! I won't have time to do zhis later!" The medic dropped his silver pen onto the desk in slight frustration.

"Yes you will Doktor. Now, relax for a bit. Doktor doesn't always have to work." The larger man had rubbed the Medics shoulders with his large yet gentle hands, effectively soothing the older man.

The Heavy began to feel some weight on his shoulders and he looked until he saw the Medics beloved dove Archimedes, who was perching upon him and nuzzling Heavy.

He then moved his hand towards the bird, effectively letting Archimedes perch upon his finger. The large man then gently settled the bird on Ludwig's shoulder.

"Oh! Hallo there, little Archimedes! I'm up late again, aren't I? Are you hungry, my Süß little dove?" Ludwig cooed gently at his beloved pet as he reached for a bag of bird seed.

Heavy looks at the affection given and how cute the two are together, thinking of how sweet it was. “Did Archimedes make doctor feel better? Would anything else help doktor, such as getting out of office? I know a good place doktor would love.”

Ludwig looked at Misha with a curious smile.

"Oh? And what would zhat place be?"

"It is surprise doktor! Would you like to go today?"

The older man almost jumped in excitement as he grabbed Misha's hands.

"Ja!" The man exclaimed as he clenched Mishas hands even tighter. "Zhank you for zhis Heavy. I don't know what I vould do vithout you." Misha had pulled the other man into his lap for a small sweet kiss, eventually separating and caressing Ludwig's cheek.

"Let's get ready, da? Dress light doktor, will be very hot there." Misha patted Ludwigs shoulder lightly before they both departed to get ready for their date.

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content, physical assault, profanity, drug use (smoking weed), alcohol consumption, tobacco use

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow @ignite-my-fire @hollyco

A/N: As always, please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! I’d also love to hear your thoughts, how you’re finding the series so far and any feedback. 🫶🏻

Chapter 6

“Fucking hell, Y/N! How much shit are you taking with you?”

You look up at Kat, shooting her your dirtiest look possible. You’re sat cross legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by piles upon piles of your belongings.

“I don’t want to get to Nashville and have left something important behind! It’s not like I can just nip home.” You scowl.

“Babe, we’re going to America, not the Bermuda Triangle. It wouldn’t be hard to find anything you need. Plus, Jake would move mountains for you if he could.” She snorts.

“What about you, anyway? Do you really need seven pairs of shoes?”

“You know I need to slay in public. Plus, we’re like, famous now.”

You both crack bewildered smiles at each other. She wasn’t wrong, both of you had been circulating online. You knew the boys were famous, but you didn’t expect their fanbase to be so… pap happy. What was the most interesting was how covert they were at snapping photos of you out and about. There was the odd moment where fans would approach the band and ask for photos, which they always willingly obliged with smiles on their faces. It was evident that they held such love in their hearts for their fans, it was never a chore to interact with them. The people you met were always so nice to you and Kat, too. Complimenting your outfits, telling you how pretty you were. It was quite a pleasant experience for the most part. There was, however, a small percentage that weren’t so happy you were dating Jake & Sam. Kat wasn’t bothered in the slightest, but you on the other hand were more susceptible to the discomfort. You were struggling with the sudden catapult into the limelight, but believed that your relationship with Jake was worth it.

“Right, I’m all done. Need any help fitting the kitchen sink into your suitcase?” Kat winks.

You celebrate the success of packing with a few bottles of wine and a Chinese takeaway. You and Kat curl up onto her sofa together and sink further and further into the bottles whilst you conceptualise the decisions that got you both to this point. By the end of the second bottle, you’re both slurring your words and collapsing into a fit of giggles.

“I know, let’s FaceTime them!” Kat sways, phone in hand.

The familiar ringer sounds twice and then Sam picks up, his face illuminating the screen.

“There’s my beautiful girl. Oh, girls! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Misssed you.”

“Y/N, did you miss me too?” Sam bats his eyelashes.

“Maybeee a bit, was hoping Jakey was with youuu.”

“Are you both drunk?” He chuckles.

“Noooooooooooo, why on earth would you think that.” Kat comically scratches her chin.

“I heard a very pretty voice saying my name.”

Jake edges into the shot, smirking down at the screen.

“Omygod I could just eat you up.” You breathe.

“Ewwwwwww, Y/N. Not in front of meee!” Kat screeches, jumping on top of you. You both cackle together until you’ve caught your breath.

“A hangover on a 9 hour flight isn’t my idea of a good time.” Jake laughs.

“We just wanted to see you one last timeeee.” You blow a kiss into the screen.

“You two get an early night, we’ll see you in just under 24 hours.” Jake instructs.

“See you soon!” Sam chimes in.

You all wave goodbye and Kat ends the call with an exaggerated yawn. You both plod into her room and collapse into bed, sleep finding you almost instantly.

~

The hangover gods have spared you today, as you both wake up fresh as a pair of daisies. You go over your itinerary once more, just to be extra safe, then load your bags into the back of the Uber. It was around a 45 minute drive to Heathrow, so you popped your headphones on and flicked through your playlists. Jake had been very secretive with your flight plans, telling you both that he’d scheduled the details to come through to your email 3 hours before your departure. You’d tried to argue with him, you liked to be in control and hated not being in the loop, but he wouldn’t budge. You both sat down to grab a coffee at one of the little Cafes within the airport when right on schedule, the email pinged through.

British Airways - Flight BA 244

Departing LHR at 1300 to BNA

Business Class Main Deck

Seat 13J

Seat 13K

“No fucking way, that’s why he was being so secretive!” You huff, rolling your eyes.

“What?”

“He’s booked us business class seats!”

“Fuck yeah!” Kat grins, punching the air.

“That must have cost a bomb!”

“Girl, will you quit it. He clearly wants his princess to be comfortable. Enjoy it, you deserve it.”

You’d seen TikTok videos of people sitting in business class, but you’d never for a second expected to experience it for yourself. Once you’d checked in, which was a breeze thanks to the dedicated area for business class ticket holders, you were ushered into a private lounge. Inside, there was a complimentary buffet with an insane selection of food and drink, plus Champagne chilling on ice and even a cocktail bar with an experienced mixologist on hand. When you boarded, you were taken to your seats and handed fluffy blankets and an amenity kit consisting of luxury toiletries, toothpaste and toothbrush, an eye mask, and socks. You both squealed in excitement every time you discovered something new, such as the noise cancelling headphones, or the fact that your seats fully transformed into beds. The most exciting thing of all though, was the Wi-Fi available on board. It meant that you could keep in contact with the boys whilst in the air, or so you thought. Sam and Josh seemed to keep in constant contact for the first few hours, but you hadn’t heard from Jake. Deciding it wasn’t worth worrying about, you settled in for the long haul. You and Kat had made it through a few films together, and scarfed down some dinner and dessert before you both passed out. By the time you woke up, the Stewardesses were making their rounds to ensure everyone was back upright and buckled in, ready to land. You shook Kat gently and she stirred, before removing her eye mask and wiping the drool from her face.

“Sleep well?” You laugh.

“Like a fucking baby.”

The landing was smooth as you touched down on Nashville soil. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins like white hot lava whilst you waited at luggage claim, it felt like hours had passed before the carousel started turning. As soon as you spotted your bags you sprinted over to them, not even stopping to make sure Kat was following your lead. You grab them both and almost topple over trying to drag them off by yourself. Kat finally makes her way over and retrieves her suitcase from you, then you both head towards pick up. Your hands felt clammy as you approached the crowds of people waiting for their loved ones. You scanned through the faces, until you found one that stuck out like a sore thumb. Josh. Next your eyes landed on Sam. You kept looking, craning your neck, but no one else was there.

Jake wasn’t there.

The room began to spin as you remembered how quiet he’d been during your flight.

Kat began to run over to the two, throwing her arms out and squealing as she squeezed the life out of both of them. You’d stopped in your tracks, still rooted to the same spot. The three of them whipped their heads round, Kat’s face one of confusion, the brothers both mirroring each other with looks of… sadness? Guilt? You couldn’t quite place it. You felt yourself starting to tear up, your mind a frenzy of thoughts. Where was he? Had he changed his mind? Did he regret asking you here?

You were brought back down to earth by a firm pair of hands grasping at your arms.

“Songbird.” Josh smiles, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Where-”

“We’ll explain, but please don’t worry. He wanted to be here more than anything in the world. We’re so happy to see you, sweet girl.” He pulls you into a tight embrace.

The ride to Josh’s place goes by in a blur, with you staring blankly out of the window for most of the journey. You were confused, and with no explanation, your thoughts were spiralling. Josh told you not to worry, but you couldn’t help it. Your boyfriend wasn’t there to pick you up from the airport in an unfamiliar territory, one he’d invited you to indefinitely. You expected to go back to Jake’s place, but were told that you’d be heading to Josh’s. You had asked where Danny was, but were met with grimaces exchanged between Josh and Sam. They promised they’d reveal all when you arrived.

You walked through the door to Josh’s house and set your bags down. It was a beautiful home that captured Josh’s personality perfectly. The interior was mostly white, with floor to ceiling glass windows, faux fur rugs and gold embellishments. His decor was extremely tasteful, it looked expensive but didn’t scream ‘I’m a rockstar who likes to flaunt my money’. Sam and Kat took a seat on one of the plush grey sofas, you opted to sit yourself alone on its twin. Josh exited the room briefly before returning with four glasses and a bottle of red wine. He filled your glass first, handing it to you and watching as you took a hearty gulp. Once he has filled the remainder of the glasses, he perches next to you and looks to his brother. Sam nods and Josh turns back to you, sighing.

“Jake… has had some problems over the last few hours.”

Your throat feels constricted, so you swallow thickly. When that doesn’t ease your discomfort, you opt for another gulp of pinot noir.

“Kate, his… ex-girlfriend decided to make a re-appearance early this morning.” He pauses, running a hand through his fluffy curls. “She’d seen photos of the two of you circulating online, Must have realised that you seemed serious. She tried to win him back over, saying she just wanted to talk and apologise for how awful she’d been to him. He let her in because he still had some of her things from when she left. He brought the box to her and began to explain that he had a new girlfriend, and that you were due to turn up in a few hours so she had to leave, and she lost her shit. Threw a glass vase at him. He called us after she left, when we got there he was struggling to stem the bleeding and was barely conscious. Danny took him to the ER, he told me I needed to stay here so I could pick you up. All he could talk about was you, about how upset he was, how he wanted to see you.”

“What the fuck. Josh, is he ok?! Please tell me he’s ok!” You choked back a sob, your eyes frantically searching Josh’s face for answers.

“He’s ok. Pretty shaken, with a nasty gash on his arm. He’s had to have stitches, but he’s fine.” Josh cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“Please can I see him?”

~

Jake and Danny had got back from the ER around an hour after you arrived at Josh’s. Jake understandably wasn’t up for guests after the incident, so Danny took him home. You parted ways with Kat, as she was due to stay with Sam. They both hugged you goodbye, then you headed off with Josh. As you entered through the door to Jake’s house behind Josh, you felt sick to your stomach. The lights were off, so Josh flicked them on and left your belongings in the corridor.

“I’m just going to find Jake, you hang tight.”

The house was a stark contrast to Josh’s, with everything in dark hues. Jake favoured mahogany over Josh’s love for pine, and his home was just as dark and mysterious as him. Walking into the house was like being surrounded by Jake, there was no doubt that this was his sanctuary. The ground floor was mostly open plan, with a large hallway spilling out into a kitchen. You found the light switch and flipped it, the room illuminating and revealing the horror hidden within the veil of darkness.

Blood.

Broken glass.

More blood.

You clapped your hand to your mouth as you took in the scene before you. The glass that once formed part of a heavy, ornate vase was thick - that explained the damage done… You were actually surprised it wasn’t worse. On the kitchen island you spot a bouquet of flowers clad in brown paper. They were astonishingly beautiful and comprised of all your favourite species; peonies, lavender, cornflowers, snowdrops, foxgloves, and a few sprigs of eucalyptus. You pick out the card that is tucked neatly into the folds of paper and open it.

My girl,

A thousand bouquets could never be enough for you, but for as long as I am alive I will continue to shower you with the most beautiful of petals. You are my sun, my moon, my stars. Thank you for coming to my home and filling it with your warmth.

All my love,

Jake

You clutch the card to your chest and let the tears that have formed in your eyes fall down onto your cheeks. A noise from the hallway startles you, causing you to lurch backwards in panic. You look up as Josh appears from the hall, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

“That fucking psycho bitch.”

He looks to you and notices the state you’re in, his face immediately softens and he extends his arms out to you.

“Oh, Songbird. I’m so sorry.”

You collapse into his arms as you weep into his chest, hot tears staining his crisp, white t-shirt.

“He wants to see you.” He whispers as he strokes your hair gently.

You pull back, peering at his face and managing a meek nod. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you through the hall and down a set of stairs. When he opens the door you’re met with a cosy basement, with a log burner crackling away on the far wall opposite you. A bar lines the left side, with plenty of expensive looking liquor embellishing the shelving. The right side is home to Jake’s instruments, his guitars hanging on the walls and on stands like the most prized of possessions, decorating the space with their charm. There’s a vintage looking record player sat proudly on top of a deep chestnut cabinet, with rows and rows of vinyls stacked intricately in stands. Jake sits in a brown leather arm chair in front of the log burner, a lit joint smoking away between his shaking fingers. His left forearm is bandaged and there are several smaller abrasions visible, scattered across the rest of his arms. Along his hairline, another cut can be seen, the blood now dried and clinging to his strands. He looks up at you, his lip wobbling. You can tell he’s been crying, his face slightly pink and puffy. You begin to make your way over to him, but slow down as you get closer. You’re afraid to trigger him with any quick movements, so you extend your hand to him, a silent plea for consent. His face falls, a tear slipping from his lashes and rolling down his cheek. He nods and you practically sprint the rest of the way, kneeling before him and carefully cupping his face in your hands.

“Jacob. I’m so sorry, baby.” A tear of your own falls, landing on the back of his hand.

“I-“ He begins, choking on his soft sobs. “I wanted today to be perfect. I’ve been dreaming of this day since my eyes first met yours. I can’t believe it’s been ruined. She’s stolen my happiness again.” He drops his head, succumbing to his emotions as the tears flow heavily down his perfect face.

“No. Don’t you say that. I’m here, she hasn’t ruined a thing. I’m here.” You softly nudge his chin back up, looking into his eyes as you speak. You press your lips to his and hope he believes you, that this moment hasn’t been taken from you both. He melts into your touch, kissing you back with a tenderness that steals the air from your lungs.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

~

You put Jake to bed after cleaning his face up, promising you’ll be back as soon as you’ve collected your things. Josh is stood in the kitchen, taking photos of the blood and glass that litters the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Collecting evidence for the police report.”

“Is he going to press charges?”

“I don’t know, but he sure as hell should.” Josh snarls.

“Thank you for being there for me tonight.” You offer a small smile.

“Always, Songbird. I did it for you and for him. He knew how worried you’d be.”

You wrap your arms around him and he softens, rubbing his hands across your back.

“I’d do anything for you, I hope you know that.”

You peer up at him, his face inches from yours. His eyes flit from yours down to your lips. You inhale sharply, which causes him to pull back and awkwardly clear his throat.

“I’ll leave you to your evening. Take care of him, Songbird. Call me if you need me, I’m just up the road.”

With that, he hastily makes his exit.

What?

You walk across to the kitchen island and pull out a chair. Sitting there with your head in your hands, you re-hash the events of the day over and over.

I need a drink, or a cigarette. Or both.

You pull yourself down from the island, searching the cupboards for reprieve. Successfully finding a low ball and a carafe filled with what you assumed was either whiskey or dark rum, you pad over to the freezer to retrieve a few cubes of ice. You fill your glass and rifle through your carry on to find a packet of cigarettes and your lighter. You take a few moments to decide if you want to nurse your drink slowly or knock it back in one, then your eyes find the sliding door that leads to Jake’s back porch. You find the key hanging on a hook and let yourself out, perching on a wicker chair. You take a hearty gulp from your glass, sighing as the liquor burns down your oesophagus. You set it down on the table in front of you and pull a cigarette from the packet, lighting it and taking a long drag. You hold it for as long as you can, until your head feels all warm and fuzzy, then slowly blow the smoke from your lungs. All sense of time leaves you as you sit, chain smoking. You aren’t even aware of how long you’ve been sat out there until your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up your surroundings and pulling you from your thoughts.

Josh Kiszka: I hope you’re ok, Songbird. Thinking about you.

The butterflies in your stomach took you completely by surprise. You shook your head aggressively, internally berating yourself for the reaction.

He’s your boyfriend’s brother, Y/N! Get it together!

With that, you decided it was time to call it a night. You lock up and carry your bags up the stairs and into one of Jake’s spare rooms, not wanting to disturb him. You get undressed and put on a baggy t-shirt, then quickly wash your face and brush your teeth. You crawl into the spare bed and pull the covers over your weary body. It was uncomfortable, being in an unfamiliar bed by yourself. You toss and turn for around thirty minutes, not being able to find sleep. At around the fourty five minute mark, you give up and head for Jake’s room. You didn’t want to intrude, but you’d feel much better knowing he was next to you. You enter the room and his soft snores immediately calm you. You tiptoe carefully across to the bed, ensuring to be as quiet as possible. You pull the sheets back and slide in, positioning yourself so that you were facing him. He stirs slightly and you hold your breath, not wanting to wake him up. Still asleep, his hands reach for you.

“Mmmm, Y/N. I love you.”

You gasp softly, your eyes widening.

He’s sleeping, he doesn’t mean that.

He reaches again and pulls himself into you, his head resting between the crook of your neck. Sleep finds you soon after, with your mind finally at ease wrapped up in Jake.

~

Bzz bzz

You groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the light. You’re laid on your side, with Jake’s arms wrapped around your waist. He’s snuggled close into your back, his legs wrapped in yours. You wiggle forward slightly to grab your phone.

4 missed calls

5 texts

Three missed calls from Kat, one from Josh. All texts bar one were from Kat. You swipe up and reply to Kat.

Hey babe, I’m all good. Just woke up. Speak later?

You put your phone back on the nightstand and gently rub your fingers along Jake’s arm. He stirs and you take the opportunity to turn and face him, manoeuvring carefully to avoid his injuries. His eyes slowly open and his gaze fixes on you.

“Hey, good morning. Did you sleep ok?” You ask.

“Better than I thought I would. Guess that has something to do with you being here.” He tilts his head down and plants a kiss on your forehead, then pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you for coming, I’m sorry-”

You put your finger up to his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He looks down at your finger and presses a kiss to it. You smile at him, then his hands find the back of your head and he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is passionate and hungry, filled with lust and want. He brings one hand to your waist and another to your thigh and pulls you into him, his knee slotting into your crotch. You moan gently as he makes contact with your core.

“Jake…”

“Mmmm.” He breathes in between sloppy kisses, trailing down your neck.

“Not now.”

He stops and looks at you, defeated and confused.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Fuck, I want to. But you’ve been through so much, and you’re hurt.”

“Please.” He whimpers. “I need you, please.”

That’s all it takes for you to give in, and he’s right back on you. Clawing at your shirt, he can’t seem to get it off fast enough. He palms at your bare breasts, then takes your nipple into his mouth. You arch your back at the sensation of his tongue lapping over your sensitive bud.

“You’re really here, in my bed. In my house. I can’t believe it.” He whispers, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties.

“I am.”

He flips himself on top of you and discards your underwear on the floor, then drags his fingers through your already slick folds. One thing Jake never fails to do is make you incredibly wet before he’s even started. He begins his assault on your pussy, plunging his fingers in and out, then circling them around your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls as your orgasm quickly creeps up on you, with every sound you make his fingers move faster. He licks a stripe from your collarbone to your ear, sucking the tender skin into his mouth.

“Fuck, Jakeeee.” You whine.

“Cum for me, angel. Cum right on my fingers. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels.. it feels so- oh! Fuck!”

Your legs begin to shudder as you let go, the crashing waves of your orgasm engulfing you in pure ecstasy.

When you float down from your high, Jake is lining himself up with your entrance. You move your hand to stop him and he looks down at you, his brows knitting together.

“I think you deserve a thank you now.” Your eyes bore into his and blacken with lust. He looks like a deer in headlights as he nods at you. You motion for him to swap places with you, then you crawl on top of him, rising up onto your knees and sliding down onto him. His face contorts as he bottoms out inside you, pulling his lip between his teeth with a sharp inhale.

“Baby, fuck. You feel so good.”

You start to move your hips in a slow figure of eight. Jake’s hands find your hips and he digs his fingers into the meaty flesh. You lift yourself up and slam down onto him, the tip of his cock knocking against your cervix. You squeeze as you lift back up again, eliciting a hiss from his mouth. You bounce yourself up and down, relishing in the sound of his soft panting and whining. He uses his leverage on your hips to drive up and meet you as you ride him. You throw your head back and lift your hands up cup your breasts.

“I’m gunna cum, shit!” He cries, looking up at you with his perfect, fucked out face.

“Fill me up baby.”

He groans loudly as his cock twitches inside you, still driving up into you to reach his release. The sound of his pleasure fills the room, tipping you over the edge as your walls flutter around him, constricting and pulsing as his cum spurts out into you. You catch your breath and lean down to press your lips to his, then excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up and brush your teeth, before taking the space next to him in his bed once more.

“Is that what you wanted?” You smirk.

“All I wanted and more, you’re incredible.”

You offer him a shy smile, still not used to being showered in his compliments.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” You ask, running your hand softly across his arm.

His face noticeably falls, pain searing across his eyes.

“Uhh.. I-” He’s cut off swiftly by the buzzing off his phone. He rolls his eyes and picks up the device, frowning as he peers at the screen. He answers and begins to move out of the room, but you manage to catch the first sentence of the conversation.

Good morning, my name is PD Martinez. I’m calling from the Metropolitan Nashville Police Department. Am I speaking Jacob Kiszka?

You take a deep breath, wringing your hands nervously as you wait for Jake to finish the phone call. When Jake re-enters the room, he’s visibly pissed off.

“Fucking Josh, calling the fucking police.” He mutters, raking his hands through his hair and pacing the room.

You stand and begin to try to soothe him.

“Baby, he’s just being a good brother and looking out for you…”

He whips his head toward you, fury blazing in his eyes. “I don’t need him to look out for me, I don’t need him to call the fucking police. This situation is stressful as it is without a fucking investigation happening in my home. I just want to forget about it!”

He storms out of the room and into the hallway, you follow behind him as he hot foots down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stops just before he reaches the blood and glass still tainting the hardwood flooring, before stepping over it and knocking a fruit bowl that sits on the island flying, smashing into smithereens before him. He drops to the floor, his head in his hands. You aren’t sure what to do, and in true Y/N panic mode you dash back up to the bedroom and grab your phone, hitting dial on Josh’s number. He answers after two rings.

“Morning, Song-”

“Josh, please come over. Now.”

“I’ll be there in 5.”

True to his word, 5 minutes later he’s rushing through the door. You steer him into the kitchen, where Jake is still sat on the floor.

“Brother, what’s going on?”

Jake looks up slowly, his expression vacant. He stares at Josh for a few moments, before inhaling deeply.

“Why did you call the police?”

“Uh, because your ex-girlfriend assaulted you, Jake.” Josh huffs, clearly baffled by the question.

“Do you not think that should have been my decision to make?!” Jake glares, his nostrils flared.

Josh digs around in his pockets and pulls out a tin. He opens it, extracting a pre-rolled blunt, and passes it to Jake.

“Come on, go down to the basement and chill out for five minutes.”

The three of you pile into the basement, Josh starts up the wood burner then joins you and Jake on the armchairs in front. Jake wastes no time lighting up the blunt, toking it harshly. After a few drags, he offers it to you. You’d smoked when you were younger, but hadn’t gotten high in over ten years. Regardless, in that moment you gratefully accepted it. The first toke elicits a chesty cough from your lungs, so you pass it to Josh whilst you recover. You all sit in silence, passing the blunt until there’s nothing left to share.

“Now we’re all nicely medicated, can we talk about this like adults?” Josh points towards Jake. He rolls his eyes, but motions for Josh to continue.

“I did what I thought, and what I still believe is best in this situation. Not only did her actions land you in the ER, but they also worried Y/N. It’s inexcusable behaviour and she needs to be taught a lesson.”

You nod, silently agreeing with Josh’s words. Jake sighs, rubbing his chin.

“I get it, thank you for making the call for me when I couldn’t.”

“Are you going to press charges?”

“I think so…”

~

The next few days are spent in almost constant police presence. The officers were keen to get in and assess the damage as soon as possible, so that Jake could get his kitchen cleaned up and begin to heal from the event. The police took tapes of the CCTV which covered the entrances to Jake’s house, along with the ER department report on his injuries. They took a statement from Jake, Josh, Danny and Sam, with the promise to be in touch. The entire ordeal had done a number on Jake, he was exhausted both physically and mentally. By the end of the first week, things were starting to look up, and Jake seemed to have a new lease of life.

“So, angel. I’ve been thinking, how about we pretend today is your first day in Nashville ans I take you out to dinner?”

“I would love that, Jakey.” You giggle, pulling him into an embrace.

You take your time getting ready, ensuring your hair and makeup are pristine. You give yourself a bouncy bow out, your hair cascading in shiny ribbons down your back. You slip on a black silky, tight-fitting dress which hugs your curves in all the right places, and opt for a deep red lipstick to tie the look together. As you’re perched on the bed slipping on your heels, Jake walks into the room. He’s dressed in all black too, matching your aesthetic perfectly. His black linen shirt is, of course, only buttoned a quarter of the way, showcasing his signature silver pendants which sparkle against his tanned chest. A black blazer adorns his shoulders, his hair falling down onto them in tousled waves against the crisp fabric. His trousers cling to the muscle on his thighs, which makes your mouth water slightly.

“You look amazing, Jake.”

He steps to you and pulls you up onto your feet, twirling you around to get a 360 view of your outfit. “Says the most beautiful woman on the planet. You look positively edible, angel.”

“You can eat me whenever you want.” You wink, snatching the lapels of his blazer in your fists and capturing his lips in a kiss.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He breathes.

He drives you to the restaurant which is about fifteen minutes down the road, his hand never leaving your thigh. Once you’ve parked up, he exits the vehicle and walks around to your side, opening the door and extending his hand. The restaurant is probably one of the most extravagant settings you’ve ever dined in, far beyond your usual price range. The decor is almost vintage-looking, with small lanterns embellishing each table, adding to the chic ambience. When you’re shown to your table, he pulls your chair out for you, then sits down and envelopes your hands in his, bringing one to his face and kissing your knuckles. He orders Champagne for the table and you clink your glasses together, a toast to your adventures in the States. The three course meal is absolutely stunning, and undoubtedly the best food you’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. You chat the entire time about your plans, how excited Jake is to have you at his home, and the next leg of the band’s tour which is due to commence in 4 weeks’ time. When you’re finished, Jake pays the bill and you make your way home. You walk through the door to Jake’s house and breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that things are finally beginning to take a turn for the better. You were so excited to spend some quality time with Jake, and for him to show you around. He’d spoken about the possibility of a trip to Frankenmuth, which you were quite nervous about. Meeting Jake’s parents was a daunting thought, but he assured you that they would adore you as much as he does.

You begin to settle in for the evening, slipping into your pyjamas and starting your skincare routine. Your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter as you’re finishing up.

Unknown Caller

You wonder who it could be, but take no chances of missing something important, so you answer and bring your phone up to your ear.

“Are you really in fucking America with him?!” The voice growls from the other end.

“Who- who is this?”

“You really are a disgusting little groupie whore, aren’t you. Running off to the other side of the world like a love sick puppy after a man who will drop you once he’s had his fill.” Pure venom drips from the tongue of the caller, their words coated in malice.

“… Connor, is that you?! You fucking stalker freak!” You scream.

“Clearly my little Instagram account hasn’t deterred you enough, you fucking slut.”

His little Instagram account?…

You drop your phone into the sink as your knees go weak beneath you.

He’s @exposingjake.

[queen-of-hellfire666]

Pairing: Darry X female reader The Outsiders

Warnings: Fluff & my first smut

It was morning and Darry was in the kitchen making breakfast. I smile running to him, he picks me up and twirls me around kissing me softly. Soda and pony were still asleep. “Wanna help?” I nod cracking open some eggs.

No too long afterwards the gang piles in. Steve and Two-Bit finally Dally and Johnny.

I have been with Darrel Curtis for a little over 6 years. He has been tough with Pony in the past and I always tried to stop it. He just didn’t want pony to turn out bad.

I smile kissing his cheek before pulling out a water. “Pass me a beer would ya?” Two-But smiles. “Oh a water? Okay!” I throw him a water ignoring the beer part. “Hey!” He groans. “Sober up Matthews or I’m gonna Beat you.” He smirks and drinks the water.

“I’m gonna go wake pony and Soda up.” I smile before waking to their room. “Ponyboy..” I whisper softly shaking him. “Mmmmm.” He groans. “Food is almost done kiddo.”

“You two Soda. Come on.” I smirk. “Okay have it your way. Oh Steve!” Steve runs in before toppling on soda and rough housing him.

Ponyboy jumps up quickly. I walk back to Darry. “So, Mr. Curtis.” He holds me in his arms. “What are we doing today?” I ask as he takes a swig of milk. “Well. I was hoping we could get some quick shopping in and spend the day together doing whatever you want.” He smirks.

“Whatever I want?” I watch his smirk fade. “Now-Now hold on.” I laugh softly. “It’s fine. I just wanna spend time, whether it be cuddling, a movie, or even a date. I don’t care.” I kiss his lips. They’re not soft but not rough. He’s always gentle no matter what.

“Alright mrs. Curtis. Have it your way.” I smile but pause and turn back to him. “What did you just say?” He looks at me. “Have it your way?”

“No.. No before that.” He takes a bite of bacon: “Mrs. Curtis?” I kiss him so hard he almost tips back in his chair. “What was that for?” He smirks. “Thank you.” I go to sit down but Darry grabs me back on his lap.

“I was gonna get a chair.” I laugh. “Too bad. I’m your chair now.” I scoff biting the bacon from his hand. “Hey.” He playfully grins.

“Darry, is it okay if me and Pony go get some icecream and hangout downtown for a bit?” Soda softly asks. “Steve is going too.” Darry nods. “Be back for lunch you hear?” They all nod and quickly leave. “I love you.”

He whispers in my ear putting his chin on my shoulder. “I love you too.” I kiss his nose and Finnish my food. “Okay, I’m grabbing the list, get the truck going.” He sighs getting up after I do.

The whole ride there was filled with horrible Karaoke. I can’t Believe I have such an amazing boyfriend.

Shopping was easy with Darry. I pushed the cart and got smaller things, he would grab stuff off of high shelves. To be honest if Darry’s hair wasn’t a little greased we wouldn’t have been counted as greasers.

I never grease my hair or nothing, it’s always fluffy and put up or put back with a pin. I dress nice when we go out for the most part. Darry wears a black shirt and jeans most the time anyway.

After shopping we went ahead and went home to prepare lunch for the hungry boys.

Johnny could eat 2 sandwiches, Two-Bit a whole chocolate cake and a beer, Steve a half of pack a’ meat, Soda always loved sweet treats and could eat a whole brownie cake by himself, Dallas never really ate here but when he did he chowed down and pony boy never eats much.

Pony always never did eat much. It’s just a plain form of habit I guess. He sure is smart though.

I feel a pair of hands break my thoughts and sway through the small kitchen with me. “Can you get the plates from the top cabinet?” I ask softly as I put chicken in the oven. As I bend over Darry reaches up and man on man the friction.

He softly groans. I smirk. “Later not right now.” I read his mind. He shot me a wicked grin and placed out the plates. I continue cooking food for another 10 minutes or so before I hear Ponyboy and Johnny.

“I’m telling you the comic book was all like ‘death death! Dead!!” Ponyboy exclaims walking in the kitchen. “Hungry boys?” I ask softly. “Yes, ma’am. “ Ponyboy groans. “I’m starving.”

I give him a plate of food. “Johnny?” He nods. Johnny didn’t talk much to me. I hand him a plate too, a bigger serving because I know Johnny isn’t fed at home.

Before I can say anything Darry is grabbing my hand and dragging me off to the bathroom. “The rest of the gang will be here soon now and I can’t walk around like this.” He smirks.

He places me up on the counter top before taking his pants down just enough.

He pushes up my dress and slides down my panties. “Darrel Curtis, your suppose to be the responsible one..” I click my tongue.

He rolls his eyes before grabbing a condom and sliding it on. “We ain’t never used one of those before?” I look at him. “Yeah but, I’m also not planning on being dumb and not pulling out.” He smirks making me bite my lip.

Darry is always gentle. Today he isn’t. The first thrust is hard and quick. My head falls back hitting the wall. “Oh, Darry please faster.” I whisper grabbing his neck. His pace picks up fast enough for the counter to hit the wall.

“Darry.. Ponyboy and Johnny, and the gang!” He shrugs. “They’re down the hall talking they won’t.. hear.” He thrusts harder. He kisses me quickly hiding my loud moan. “Do you trust me?” He looks at me.

I nod softly. “Don’t judge me, I read about this alright.” He picks me up. “Hold on to me.” I wrap my arms and legs around him. He thrusts up even harder and faster. “Darry!!” I whimper. “Come on, cum for me darling.”

Just like that, I clench hard around him holding onto him tight. Him hitting his climax when so as well. He smirks before sitting me on the counter and throwing away the condom. He Hands me a clean pair of jeans and shirt to wear. “Let me..” he pulls his pants up.

He spreads my legs again and licks me clean. I groan softly. He continues to eat me out. “I’m gonna cum again.” I whisper grabbing his hair.

Just like that, I’m at another climax. He licks me completely clean and grins. “Get dressed darlin.” He fixes his hair and walks out to the kitchen.

As I walk back out to the kitchen I hear Two-Bits laugh. Darry shoots me his million dollar grin. I smile sitting on his lap. I take a bite of my food before Soda looks at Darry then at me. He starts smirking before whispering something to Steve making Steve grin at us.

I lay back my head on Darry’s shoulder. “I love you, Darrel Curtis.” I kiss him softly. “I love you too y/n Curtis.” I had the perfect life no matter what

[paperficwriter]

"The Second Floor" (Metal Bat x Garou)

I figured I'd go ahead and start doing some cross-posting here...I don't know if I'll post everything here because not for nothing but I get harassed more here than Twitter, which is saying something.

Regardless, here I am, coming back to my roots. It's my take on what all has been happening in the main comic, so a bit different from the 'Monster in my Bed' universe. Enjoy!

Cut is for length, not for content. AO3 link and tags in the reblog.

“Alright, so…here it is.”

Badd opens the door to the second-floor apartment, stepping inside of it to let Garou pass. He’s glad, then, that he came up before and gave it a good cleaning, got the windows open, the place aired out a bit. That was the first time he had been back inside since his parents died, and even though his uncle had straightened it out and made sure there wasn’t anything left for Badd and Zenko to have to take care of, the place had felt…strange, like it had been put into some kind of suspended animation for the past eight years.

Badd watches as Garou wanders around with the kind of caginess that Tama had when they brought her home the first day. There’s a wariness to his movements, and…did he just see his nose twitch. “This is the main room,” Badd says. “You can see the kitchen right there.” He nods at the window cut into the far wall, showing the small, sunlit space with a full-sized fridge, stove and sink. “The door across from that’s the bathroom…s’got a bath, though it might be small for ya. Then there’s a bedroom.”

Garou looks down at the squat table in front of an old television—already old when Badd was a kid, when he would come up here and pretend he was a squatter if there wasn’t anyone living in the apartment. “It’s gonna be a tight fit,” Garou finally says in his cold, rough voice. “But I guess I’ve lived in worse places.”

A flash of anger rises up suddenly in Badd’s belly like the gas on the old range had been turned on in a rush of blue flame. “Now, listen—”

“I guess I’ll take this front room, though.” He scratches the inside of his ear with a pinkie finger. “Just don’t wake me up when you’re cooking.”

“Wait…no, dammit, I’m not living here!” A warmth travels across his nose and pinks his cheeks as Badd stuffs his hands in his pockets. He’s not wearing his hero uniform today, but a bomber jacket with a tiger on the back and jeans. “This place is just for you.”

Garou looks surprised, white eyebrows going up and then back down. He starts wandering around again, somehow even more suspicious, touching the walls, opening the cabinets in the kitchen. Badd follows him.

“I got a couple of things…some basic stuff. Noodles, sauce, some canned stuff. There ain’t much in the fridge ‘cause I didn’t know what you liked other than…meat. Though I did get ya some of what was on sale at the supermarket.”

When he says that, Garou has his spiky head shoved into the fridge, taking out the wrapped packages, eyes gleaming. Badd can’t help but grin a little because he has the kind of expression he’d expect to see if he left him a basket full of candy and not a couple of strip steaks…

After a quick inspection of the bathroom and then the bedroom, which has a desk, an empty bookshelf (what the hell is going to go there, Badd wonders—this is Garou living here, does he even know how to read?), a dresser and a rolled up futon, the former Hero Hunter turns to Badd. His gold eyes are narrow as he steps up to him. “What’s the catch?”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re not living here. Is the old man paying you? Or are you going to start charging me rent or something?” He says it like he’s expecting Badd to tell him he needs to start selling his organs downtown.

“What? No!” Badd growls and cracks his socked toes against the soft wooden floor. “I don’t need any damn money, alright?! I live downstairs in the apartment under this place! The first floor!”

“Why do you have a spare apartment?”

“My folks bought the place like this and used to take tenants…anyway, it don’t matter! Do ya want it or not?”

It’s a little weird, but Badd only realizes after he’s said it that they actually haven’t discussed at all or not Garou wants to live here. Because initially, the conversation didn’t even happen with him. It happened with Bang, at a cafe, after Badd’s patrol but before he had to go pick up Zenko from piano practice. “You want me to let Garou come live with us. Are you serious, old man?”

Bang had picked up the tab for their tea and a few small desserts, and he was eating a pastry and taking a stupidly long time to answer Badd. “I am. He doesn’t seem…comfortable, living with me. Not that we haven’t mended some of what was broken between us, and I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think it was safe.”

“Maybe he’s uncomfortable because he doesn’t think he can get away with being him when you’re watching.”

Bang shrugged, sipping his tea. “I think you two will have more in common with each other than he does with me. It’s good for young men to spend time together. They grow from mutual experiences.”

What planet was this geezer on?! “There is no way I got anything in common with that guy! And if it’s about age, why not one of the other heroes?!”

For a moment, Bang took a breath, like he was gathering his words. Then, finally, he said, “You two have the most shared history at this point. And I have caught him watching the news about your hero work from time to time.”

Badd didn’t know what to say about that. He didn’t know what to say when they parted ways, except that he did have some space and so long as Garou didn’t do anything to make him regret it, he could stay there. And he still doesn’t know what to say now, because Garou is staring at him like he’s still waiting for this all to be taken out from underneath his feet.

Finally, Garou shrugs. “Sure. Whatever. It’s better than being stuck up in that place above that smelly dojo.”

The tension in Badd’s shoulders lessens immediately. Even though he should be dreading the fact that Garou has decided he will be living above him now, having to deal with him thinking that he was trying to con him out of something was worse. And at least if he’s there, maybe Badd will be able to catch him if he tries anything…

When he tries anything, Badd mentally corrects himself. Because he will. He’s sure of it.

Once he’s handed him the key, Badd walks back down the same set of stairs that he ascended. At one point, before his parents bought the place, the stairs would just lead to different levels of the house, and the landing where Badd has left his shoes would be the foyer. Now, there is a door that leads to his apartment with Zenko. He’s about to open it when he feels a prickle at the back of his neck and—

Badd jumps back from the door to shoot his gaze at Garou, who is watching him with catlike eyes from his upper floor, leaning over like a burglar. “Oi!” Badd growls. “What’re ya doin,’ punk?!”

“What? We’re neighbors now, right?” Garou has a sly smile. “I can’t check out what my neighbor is up to?”

Nevermind, Badd thinks as he goes inside of his apartment and closes and locks the door. Probably nothing could be worse than this.

It’s quiet, for a while…and Badd almost thinks that Garou has changed his mind and decided to run out. He comes back from his hero work and hears nothing from upstairs, and at one point he asks Zenko about it. “Have you heard anything from Garou?”

She’s working on her homework at the table where they eat dinner, as Badd cooks. He’s cut up some bell peppers that are softening with onions, and there’s some beef browning in a cast-iron skillet. They’ll have it with rice. “Yeah,” she says. “I hear him go out before I go to school and you leave for work.”

“Huh?! Only then?”

“Is that weird?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been working day shifts since he started living here. Don’t you think he would be going to his job too?”

That’s true. He figured that if Garou was going to do something, it would be under the cover of night, now that everyone knows who he is. Badd grabs the pan handle and gives it a shake that’s maybe a bit too aggressive, because two green slivers of pepper escape onto the stove top. “There’s no way a guy like that’s got a job,” he mumbles.

Zenko puts her pencil down then and he hears her sniff the air. “Big bro…something smells funny.”

“Eh?” He frowns. Zenko’s always liked his cooking…but then he realizes there’s a tickle of something else…acrid and burning…and there’s a haze outside the window. Could that be coming from— “Stay here!”

Making sure to move his pans to other burners, Badd runs to the door and opens it into the landing. Sure enough, there’s more smoke in the hallway, and he leaps to the top of the stairs in one bound. “Garou! What the hell’re ya doin’?!”

When there’s no answer, Badd acts on instinct and punches a hole in the door, tearing his way through it. The apartment is cloudy, although the window in the kitchen is open. He darts in to look through it and there’s Garou, perched on a section of the roof, holding a skillet with something on fire in one hand and his phone in the other. “This recipe is bullshit!” he curses, and he seems like he’s about to throw the pan probably into oblivion but then he stops, showing a degree of self control that Badd didn’t expect.

So there he is, just pouting, the flames going out slowly…and Badd has to laugh. It’s not like there’s any damage to the apartment other than the smoke, so…

Garou’s eyes snap over to him. “Hey! Shut the hell up!”

“Okay, okay…you just…look like you’re having a hard time.”

“I followed the stupid video. It’s not my fault.”

Badd turns on the water and watches as Garou crawls back in the window and puts his pan under the running sink. Whatever it was, it’s charcoal now. Badd could leave him to it to figure out what else he’s going to eat, but…Garou looks so pathetic and angry, instead he finds himself asking, “You want to come down for dinner? I’m making bell peppers and beef. I usually end up havin’ enough for a few nights in case I gotta work, so…there’s plenty.”

Garou doesn’t reply for a second, and Badd prepares himself to get shot down, probably with some snide remark. But then, there’s a high, strange noise that ends in a sort of warbling grumble, and Badd realizes it came from Garou’s stomach. Garou puts his hand over it like he can push the noise back in. With his long fingers over his abs, Badd realizes for the first time how thin he is, and, sure, he’s lean with all those muscles but…then he recalls the report from the fight in the woods between that gang of heroes, Genos and Bang, the one that mentioned him being found in a shack.

And other than that kid…he was all alone.

“Well,” Garou says loudly, with an exaggerate shrug. “I guess I’ll try it. It can’t make me any sicker than this would…”

Any sympathy Badd was feeling evaporates like the water hitting the hot pan. “Ya know, you could starve for all I care.”

“Nope, you can’t take it back now.” As Badd goes into the bedroom to open the other windows in the apartment, he hears a sharp, “What the fuck did you do to my door?!”

“Shut up! I thought you were burning the house down! I’ll fix it!”

When they get back downstairs, Zenko has already set a second place. Badd returns to the stove, grateful he had the foresight to move the food so it wouldn’t burn up too, and he finishes getting the rice done as he carefully listens to Zenko and Garou talking.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, how could I forget? You were the dumb brat who tried to butt in the middle of our fight.”

“Who’s dumb?! I got you all to stop, didn’t I?”

“Okay, maybe you have a point. What’s that you’re doing?”

“Math homework. It’s Advanced Geometry.”

“Ugh…what do you need that for?”

“I want to be a veterinarian!”

Badd is ready to interject if Garou makes a smart-ass remark, but then he hears him go, “Yeah, guess you need to work really hard for something like that. Better give it your all and not quit school like I did.”

“I am!”

Did he really say that? It was…surprisingly thoughtful. Did Garou really drop out of school? They’re about the same age, and Badd just finished the year before, so…it would make sense.

Then, he hears Garou laugh. “Unless you’d rather just do something that doesn’t require any level of intelligence, like being a hero—”

“Alright, I’ve got plates of food here, so why don’t you shove this in your mouth, eh?”

Garou smirks as Badd puts down the plate of food in front of him, but when his eyes settle on it, he really does get quiet. With a quick ‘itadakimasu’ he’s stuffing his mouth like someone is going to take the plate away from him. Zenko and Badd exchange glances before beginning to eat as well.

Badd continues watching him out of the corner of his eye. How is it that the longer he interacts with him, the more he questions everything he thought he knew about him?

It doesn’t feel like he’s trying to trick him either…

After dinner, Badd walks Garou to the door. “I’ll fix the door this weekend. So just…don’t do anything dumb, yeah?”

“Like what? Leave it unlocked?”

“Okay, goodnight, smartass.”

It isn’t the last time that Garou eats some of Badd’s cooking (and to his knowledge, enjoys it). In the days to follow, Badd notices there are less leftovers in the fridge over the subsequent nights after he’s made a big meal. If there are three plastic containers, the next day there are two. If two, then one.

Is he seriously breaking in and stealing food?! Can ’t believe I was beginning to trust that guy…

He heads upstairs to confront him about it, but when he opens the door he nearly runs right into Zenko. She trips backward and lands on her rear. “Zenko! Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Then, he sees the empty container in her hands. She’s clutching it to her chest. “Nothing!”

“Are you…giving him food?”

Zenko stands back up, her nose in the air. She always does that when she’s trying to meet his height, to match his energy. “So what if I am? Clearly he’s terrible at cooking. Recently all he brings home are convenience store foods—”

“How do you know that?!”

“I say hello to him! Like a good neighbor!” Zenko crosses her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you say hello to him more? He’s your friend!”

The desire to fire back that no, he is absolutely not his friend, tickles his tongue, but Badd stops himself. Because he doesn’t hate him like he thought he would. But he doesn’t like him either, so…he takes the empty container from Zenko. It looks like it’s been practically licked clean… “It’s fine. I’ll…put some extra servings to the side so he gets a bit of everything.”

Garou doesn’t say anything for a while, and Badd wonders if Zenko has told him that Badd knows now that he’s feeding him. One evening, though, he’s about to take the trash out when he sees Garou coming down the stairs. He’s got the leftover box in hand. Badd nods at him. “Hey.”

It’s the first time he’s gotten to take a long look at Garou in a while. He’s different from how he was when he first arrived—softer, his brain supplies first, comfortable, less starved. There’s still that same air about him, like he’s prowling, ready to pounce, even if his form of attack is just to quip. Now, though…his body looks lived in, stretched out a bit.

Badd is surprised at how he kind of likes that look on him.

“I think this was my favorite,” Garou says, without any greeting of his own. This was a honey garlic stir fry he made with chicken and mixed vegetables.

“I hadn’t made it before. I’ve been trying some new recipes.”

“Mm.” Garou follows Badd outside as he goes to deposit the bags of garbage at the street. The fireflies are out, the late evening easing in and bringing with it a cool breeze. “How do you even…” He shakes his head. “There’s so much in it.”

Badd realizes he’s still talking about the dish, and at first he’s about to talk about all the steps he took to sauté the chicken and thicken the sauce before tossing it all together, but…instead what comes out is, “You could come down and watch. Maybe help a bit.”

A distant cicada starts buzzing. It fills up the silence, and Badd is grateful, because it’s taking Garou a while to answer. Finally, what he gets is, “…sure.”

The agreement is not nearly as surprising as when he actually knocks the next evening, ready to get started.

After a few weeks of dinners, Garou is about to head back upstairs when Badd asks him if he wants to give breakfast a try. “Broaden your horizons a bit. We could do some eggs, pancakes—”

“No,” Garou says quickly. “No mornings.”

Badd frowns. He’s really wanted to believe that Garou hasn’t actually been up to something, ignoring the fact that he’s gone before he and Zenko get up and always home by the evening. He’s even walked home with Zenko from school a couple of times. But… “Why?”

It’s like a door between them closes, and evenings of cutting vegetables and talking about hero movies and things that normal people might bond over disappears. “None of your business.”

Badd can’t let that slide.   

A few days later, Badd switches his hero patrol day with Genos so he can see where Garou goes when he thinks he’s gone. It works out perfectly since Zenko wanted to sleepover with one of her friends from class, and he gets up early without having to worry about coordinating it with her school day. Sure enough, Garou rises before the sun, leaves the house and starts running towards the east end of the city.

Badd takes off after him, dressed in a nondescript sweatsuit with his hair down. Granted, he can’t exactly be as covert as he’d like to be, because keeping up with the human monster requires jumping from building to building lest he chance catching up with him. They run for almost a half hour, so far that it’s almost out of the city entirely. But then Garou stops, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks into the konbini at the corner. There’s only one other person shopping and an old woman is stocking some drinks towards the back. Badd watches as Garou walks around behind the counter and into the back room.

When he comes out again, he’s got his hair wet and pressed down as much as he can get it, and he’s wearing an apron. From the rooftop across the street, he can’t hear what’s being said, but Garou and the old woman exchange words. She’s smiling and patting his arm, and as she disappears to get more products, he takes his place at the register. If Badd had never seen him before, he might believe it’s someone else—a cute guy with a serious face, who could even be someone’s boyfriend.

Garou has a job…and Badd feels like a complete asshole.

There are a few things he learns on his phone as he heads back to the house: the neighborhood where the konbini is located is small, largely made up of senior citizens. It wasn’t affected by the battles that had happened those few months back…in fact, it hasn’t been affected by any villains in years. It’s not even on the patrol map that’s used by the lower-tier heroes, let alone the S-class ones like him.

One article catches his eye about some kids who had been playing in the road when a moving van cut a corner too fast. They were saved by a mysterious man who dashed in and grabbed them so quickly no one could get a look at him. One of the kids, however, said he had “wolf ears.”

Subtle, Badd thinks.

For the rest of the afternoon, Badd sits in front of the couch without actually watching what’s on television. He thinks about the Garou he was convinced he knew before, and the Garou he’s coming to know now. And that Garou is the one that is making something tug in his stomach, an invisible thread that is coming out and trying to get to him.

When Garou comes home that night, he walks into Badd’s apartment, more than a bit doggedly. Badd has left the door unlocked for him now for…how long, he’s not sure. There’s that pulling sensation again…why does Badd want to give him a hug and welcome him home? He’s been working all day behind a counter miles away.

“Hey.” Badd gently elbows him as Garou washes his hands at the sink. “Listen, sorry if I was pushy a few days ago, askin’ what you were doing and all. You were right. It’s none of my business.”

Garou squints at him. “Did you hit your head today?”

“What?! No!”

“You don’t apologize for anything ever. Weirdo. What’s your deal?” With his hands occupied, he uses a foot to kick Badd in the ass. He’s grinning at him, though, so Badd can’t actually be mad. Instead he runs his hands through his own hair and grabs Garou’s fingers just as he finishes drying them. “Ugh, gross, I just washed these!”

Badd laughs. “What’re you, fuckin’ five? Think I’m gonna give you cooties?”

“Nobody wants to find your nasty gooey hair in their food!”

“It ain’t gooey!”

Garou stares at him for a minute, and his smile softens in a way Badd has never seen it do. “Actually, yeah…you wore it down today.” He starts soaping up again. “Not bad.”

In his stomach, Badd feels a fluttering like wings. Not butterflies, something bigger, more important. “Heh…thanks.”

They start cooking after that in silence. The quiet isn’t awkward, though. It’s warm and comfortable, a blanket they are sharing between them.

On the weekend, Badd comes home from a morning patrol to see that Garou’s door is open. It’s the first time he’s actually seen him reciprocate the availability that Badd has put forth. Not that he’s ever pressured him too—Garou seems like a man who needs his privacy—but then he’s also rarely there during the day and…

Before he can think better of it, he’s walking up the stairs.

Garou is sitting in the living room, facing the television and watching some kind of sentai show. The first thing he can’t help but notice is that he is very shirtless, his pale skin smooth and light in the sunshine coming in from the window. Once again, he notices how Garou has softened considerably since he’s come to live there with them; there’s a little roll of plushness that’s developed at the base of his stomach, and where the angles of his muscles once seemed sharp, like they would cut you if you touched them the wrong way, they’ve smoothed a bit.

Badd catches himself staring, even moreso as Garou lifts a wrapped taiyaki to his mouth. There’s a red bean filling, and it crunches in his teeth, warm and fresh. Badd realizes he’s never seen Garou eat something sweet before. Come to think of it, whenever he’s offered him dessert, Garou has turned him down…

Seeing him like this, it’s almost as though he’s kind of vulnerable.

He doesn’t want to spoil the moment, but he also doesn’t want Garou to suddenly catch him sneaking up on him. So he announces himself with a little clearing of his throat. “Hey.”

Badd expects Garou to jump, but he doesn’t. Instead, he puts down the taiyaki, turns off the TV, and pivots so he can nod at him.

Now, Badd thinks. Tell him now. “You got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Badd leaves his bat at the door and walks inside, sitting down beside him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Ready to kick me out?” Garou jokes, but then his face changes when Badd puts his hand on his wrist. His pulse quickens under his fingers, and his eyes seem to adjust, blinking slowly and catlike.

“No. I want ya to stay. Now maybe more than ever.” Badd takes a breath, trying not to feel totally scrutinized as Garou watches him. “I like ya. Not just…as a neighbor, either.”

Garou’s chest rises so much that his shoulders go with it. He doesn’t pull away.

“And I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to tell ya. It’s hard, y’know?” He uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck. His voice is rolling into that delinquent drawl that comes out when he’s working. “And that ain’t all. I gotta tell ya, one day I—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Badd’s eyes move up from where they had been focused in on the table, on the point of contact between his tan skin and Garou’s wrist. “Which part…?”

“All of it.” Now it’s Garou’s turn to search the room for everything but Badd’s face. “Knew you followed me that day. Knew you weren’t just…being neighborly for a while now. And I knew you were outside a couple of minutes ago.”

Badd’s face flushes, but worse than that his heart twists uncomfortably. Is Garou about to let him have it for creeping around on him? Or, worse, is he going to let him down and tell him he doesn’t like him that way? “Guess I wasn’t doing a good job hiding it.”

Garou chuckles. “No, you weren’t. But…” He finally does meet his eyes, and the gold there is bright, like sunshine through honey. “I don’t mind.”

“Really? Do you—”

“Yeah.” Garou cuts him off, and the way he sets his jaw makes a very clear message: I’m not spelling it out for you.

Badd takes a long breath. “Why didn’t you just say you got a job?”

“I don’t know.” Garou sounds annoyed, but not with Badd. He scratches his belly. “Everything about me is changing. I don’t recognize myself anymore. And if I said it out loud to someone it would mean that I have to admit that it’s happening, that I can’t get away from it. But…” He mrrrrs like a grumpy animal. “I don’t hate it. I guess.”

Badd nods. The hand that’s been on Garou’s arm moves to his hand, the cool skin there. Garou has pretty nails…he’s never noticed that before. “If it helps, you still seem like a huge jackass to me. Same as ever.”

Garou makes a short cackling laugh, a genuine one, and Badd grins at it. “Oh good. I’m glad.”

They look at each other, and Badd finds himself staring at Garou’s mouth. But instead of leaning towards it, the way everything in his body wants him to, he picks up the last pieces of the taiyaki and lifts it up to him. Garou is wary again, like that first day, but then he slowly parts his lips and takes a bite of it. The pink tip of his tongue picks up a scrap of a crumb, and Badd waits until he’s swallowed to bring the treat back. This next time, Garou takes the rest, and his pink lips brush Badd’s fingers—linger on them—and then he finishes it.

This time, Badd doesn’t ignore the tugging, the pull of gravitation, the magnetic drive that brings them together to meet in the middle. And that’s where he stays with Garou, longer than he ever believed could be possible.

[fanficsandfluff]

Squealing Santa 2k22

A/N: Ty to our host @squealing-santa (this year @hypahticklish) and anyone else involved in making this a tradition every holiday season. It's always a tough spot to be put in to not be able to write someone's first choice of fandom characters, but I hope this compromise was worth it. It was especially hard for me to obtain inspiration for this fic, but still, I hope it doesn't come off that way.

Happy Holidays, @6phantom6angel6 !

Fandom: DC Comics

Characters: Bruce Wayne (Batman) x Clark Kent (Superman)

Their sleeping habits were about what you'd expect from the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel. One spent his nights awake and fighting crime, so Bruce tended to sleep in. Clark was the one with the day job and normal nine to five working hours, so he was up at a reasonable morning hour. He also grew up on a farm where the roosters woke him up at the crack of dawn, so yeah, one could say Clark was a morning person.

And often Clark would wake before Bruce and lay in bed an hour extra just to see if he could be there when Bruce would naturally wake. Most of the time, he got too restless and couldn't wait it out, having to get up and make himself coffee. On the rare occasions where he did catch Bruce waking, he'd test that mood of the Batman's. Was he in the mood for Clark to be a cuddle bug? Did he want morning sex? Did he just want to lay there and not speak?

Today was one of those 'lay there' mornings. There was snow outside, as the wintertime air had chilled the entire manor. The chill, Clark would blame, caused him to snuggle close to Bruce overnight. But now he was laying there, apart from Bruce but head tilted on the pillow to watch the man closely. His breathing pattern had changed, Clark could pick up, so he was no longer asleep. It was almost like the man was feigning sleep so he wouldn't have to interact, laying there motionless as can be.

Clark slid a hand over under the covers and scratched at the base of Bruce's spine to give him a 'hello, I'm here' message. He felt Bruce's back arch in the opposite direction of his fingers and a small huff of air come from the man. Next, Bruce rolled over onto his stomach completely and stuffed his hands under the pillow beneath his head.

Clark smiled softly, now turning fully onto his side to face Bruce. The hand that slunk under the covers to reach his partner's side remained there and slid back up Bruce's back, now rubbing it. He felt Bruce tense at first and then sink further into his expensive sheets. Clark could never tell the difference and that always boggled Bruce's mind. You could melt into this cotton-silk hybrid by sight, he'd always say to him. Clark never cared much for the fancy things of human life, anyway.

The Kryptonian curled his fingers against the fabric of Bruce's shirt and dragged them up from the bit of fat and muscle by his neck, straight down his spine back to the base of his back. Bruce tried so hard not to jolt, and Clark caught every twitch.

"Feeling ticklish this morning?"

Those were the first words to leave Clark's mouth all morning, breaking their shared, sleepy silence for them. And hey, he was proud of it. He watched Bruce bury his face into his pillow and sigh, not giving him a verbal response. Typical.

Clark smiled and he scooted himself closer to Bruce's very prone, very open body. He didn't like so much that Bruce was wearing a shirt to bed lately. He was normally shirtless, but the winter cold that blew in had forced him to take on extra layers. Once the superpowered man was right beside Bruce, he wrapped his arm around Bruce's back fully and gingerly set all five fingertips against Bruce's side.

"Don't-"

-- Was all that came out of Bruce's sleepy state and gravelly voice before he grunted when Clark dug in sharply to those pinpointed areas. The arms under his head twitched down and his elbows neared his own sides.

"Why not? I like it when you're like this," Clark teased. His thick arm remained fastened like a belt across Bruce's back, but now he traced those fingertips up, up, up, until he threaded his hand and arm through Bruce's still raised one. And Clark pulled back only a fraction to have Bruce prone before him with no effort on his part. Clark's chest was in contact with Bruce's back and he had Bruce's right arm pinned beneath their melded bodies, and the other he was keeping still in its naturally raised position with his free hand. They were also partially laying on their sides now, so Bruce wasn't flush against the mattress.

"Clark," Bruce warned because, oh yeah, Clark recognized his warning voice, all right. But he was in a cuddly state this morning that couldn't be quashed by Bruce's 'don't touch me' state.

"Good morning," was the response Superman gave to his Batman.

Clark hooked that arm tight and grabbed Bruce's other arm, creating an arm brace and handcuff all in one. Now he had his one hand completely occupied pinning his partner, but the other was free and limber and ready to deliver some tickles.

Clark positioned said hand at the dip in Bruce's side and that hand went under the loose-fitting shirt. Bruce's breath hitched. Clark gently wiggled his fingers against that sweet little dip in the side and he felt Bruce's bare heel collide into his shin and strain on his arm bond. But Clark was using his super strength and no way was Bruce going to get out of the hold until Clark was good and ready to release him.

But Bruce wasn't laughing, Clark noticed. Just huffing and grunting and squirming. He wasn't worried, he'd get him soon enough. Bruce wasn't one to outright belly laugh, even with friends. Even with provocation, as it turned out.

Clark applied more pressure and he scratched his fingers up to Bruce's ribcage, getting to the low ribs first and tickling his way up top. Up and down he went a few times. Bruce broke here, a quick burst of a laugh coming when Clark stuck his thumb just so under his bottommost rib and vibrated it there.

"Fuck," he heard Bruce curse.

Clark smiled, "My, you're cranky today.."

"I w-wonder why."

"You're a piece of work," Clark smirked and he lifted his hand off Bruce's body. Bruce was forced to watch as Clark brought his hand up near his face and then dropped it slightly down again, touching the bare tricep with silky soft skin. Skin without scars or callouses like much of the rest of his body. Which made it extra sensitive. Clark ghosted his fingertips onto this skin, knowing exactly what to do to make Bruce want to crawl out of his skin.

There they lay, flicking and caressing that tender, pale skin right above his armpit.

Bruce tried hiding his face into his raised arm, either of them the more he tried. He just needed to muffle the laughs that were sure to come from him soon. He let out small giggles and huffs of breath when they would come so close to bursting into full-blown laughter, so he'd have to let it out in small bits to avoid that embarrassing scene.

"Sensitive, sensitive," Clark whispered into Bruce's ear. Well that didn't help, the big jerk.

Clark had his hand poised in such a way that Bruce could not see where his hand was, just being able to feel the fingers when they'd make contact. Thank god Clark didn't keep his fingernails long or this would be unbearable. Or so Bruce thought, because the torment was soon turning unbearable anyway.

"Let's see what we've got under here..." Clark mused, just as Bruce whined,

"No!"

Thick, calculated fingers slithered beneath the already loose short sleeve of Bruce's shirt and wiggled against the very exposed armpit. Clark's fingers were barely even tickling the hair hidden beneath the shirt at this spot before Bruce was laughing.

Clark smiled wide behind Bruce's head, tilting his back to avoid being headbutted in the nose. It wouldn't have hurt him, but he didn't want to end up leaving Bruce with a bump on the back of his head from the impact.

Clark's devious fingers did not cease their wiggles and skitters and spidering, right in the hollow with equally soft skin as the tricep. Once you'd get past the hair, it was soft. Bruce was laughing, hard. Clark loved it, he loved every second of this. To get the usually ornery man in a vulnerable position like this was a rare opportunity, and could only happen if he was waking from a slumber.

One finger in this spot was enough to rip a snort from Bruce's lips and Clark had to chuckle into the back of Bruce's neck. He removed his fingers from the armpit skin and resumed their tickling on the shirt covering the area. This did not seem to affect Bruce's reactions in the slightest. Clark stroked from Bruce's highest rib, all the way up past the armpit and tricep to the inside of his elbow, before wiggling back down. He liked the up and down patterns, as they kept the laughs coming from Bruce and it was exciting for him to administer.

Clark stopped tickling Bruce for a few seconds to let him relax before he let his arms free from their bond. Bruce lowered them completely and hunched himself over, pushing at Clark with his butt and back with the motion.

"You awake?"

"Been awake, Clark, thanks for checking."

Clark grinned and he leaned over to kiss the back of Bruce's head. The man was adorable in the mornings, when he shouldn't have been awake, when he was all Clark's to toy with.