#and then he misses the door handle because he's still looking at ted as he walks away *chef's kiss*

[gottagobackintime]

Trent saying Ted's name Season 2

[my-soupy-brain]

need Ted to take care of me, feeling so low :(

Boy, do I feel this one. I'm with you, friend. This request might be a tad older now - I hope you're feeling better. And if you're not, I hope you do. And if this helps, I'm glad to offer the service. I'm writing this for both of us, all of us, who need some help.

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Mental health (depression), comfort, care

---

Depression feels like a fucking storm cloud. Just hogging up every corner of your mind with rain. A thick, heavy humidity that just brings sheets of rain.

It matched the London skies, a bit. Which delighted you in a sense. It was easier to stay in bed, on the couch, under blankets, when the sun wasn't shining.

Your eyes were puffy and red from crying. Over what? You're not sure. it doesn't matter. Because that's not how depression works.

Hills and valleys, right? That's life. This was a dark, cloudy valley. So be it.

You hadn't eaten in... well, you don't really remember. A handful of crisps here and there, a piece of bread. Enough to sustain you.

Shower? What the hell is a shower?

You'd spent the weekend like this and then called into work on Monday. It's Tuesday morning, and you just sent an email to Keeley to let her know you still weren't feeling well.

"You sure you're okay, babe?" Keeley texted back worriedly.

"I'll be fine," you answered, throwing your phone on the couch and stumbling back into your bed.

...

At Nelson Road, Ted's big, brown eyes were bunched in worry.

"Keeley? You seen y/n around?"

Keeley shook her head. "She took today off again."

"She okay?"

Keeley shrugged her shoulders gently. "She said she was, but something feels off."

Ted nodded and headed down the hallway, hands in his pockets, head down, thinking, as he walked into his office. Beard was talking to Roy about something, and Ted stared at his phone.

"Ted?"

Ted looked up and tried to listen.

"She's not here again, huh?" Beard said, practically reading his best friend's mind, as always. Ted shook his head.

"No, took today off again. She's been out since Friday. I'm worried."

Ted had enough on his plate to worry about. Your being out of the office shouldn't be one of them. But he missed your chats, your coffee, your bright laugh, your smile.

You're one of the few people around here who really get him. And he likes that about you. Along with your kindness. Your quick wit. How you've listened to his anxieties and been a friend in need.

...

It was mid-afternoon when your phone chimed on the couch. Too far to get it. Who cares.

It chimed again. And again.

Still too far away. No way in hell were you leaving this little cocoon you'd created for yourself.

Ding-dong.

The fucking doorbell? Make 'em ring again. Maybe they'll go away.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong!

Two in a row sounds...aggressive. You pull yourself off your bed, wrapped in your blanket, and shuffle to the door.

The handle turns, and on the other side is a slightly damp Ted Lasso under the pouring London rain with an umbrella.

"Hey, Ted, c'mon in," you say, moving away from the door, leaving it open for him to step through.

Ordinarily, your stomach would be fluttering with him in your space. His woodsy cologne, his soft smile, the way he tucks that one loose tendril of hair back into his mane.

You'd be more embarrassed by the dishes piled in the sink, the records on the floor in disarray, the clothes on the floor strewn from the living room to your bedroom, the piles of papers and books laid haphazardly on the coffee table.

But you don't much care. Not right now.

"Y/N?" Ted asked, stepping into the living room of your flat, his eyes still big and worried.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Nah."

You shuffled toward the couch and sat down. Your messy, unwashed hair in a messy updo, half-up and half-down from not caring. Your tshirt hung off your shoulders, your cheeks a bit hollow and pale from not eating, not seeing the sun.

You stared at the TV, the Netflix banner rotating in front of you, like it's done for hours.

Ted nervously sat on the other end of the couch, afraid to approach you. Not sure what to...

His eyes shot over to you when he heard you gasp. Heavy sobs leaving your chest, your lungs. Almost a hiccup of tears pouring out of you. Your cheeks turned red, the tears fell in hot, heavy, salty drops down your cheeks.

Without a second breath, his arms were around you, tucking you against him, his voice soothing a soft "Shhh" - not to get you to stop crying but to help you calm your breathing.

"Breathe, shh, breathe, darlin'," Ted said quietly, the words rattling in your brain like a loose ping-pong ball.

You let yourself cry, cry, cry. And cry.

Ted's arms wrapped around you. He could feel your wet eyes against his neck, and he closed his eyes and let himself melt against you.

"Darlin'...you wanna talk about it?" he asked gently. "You don't have to, but I'll listen."

You cried some more, and Ted hugged you tighter. If he could squeeze the sadness out of you, he'd try.

He felt your body shake in his arms, under his hands.

His warmth became...a balm.

As you started to quiet, his hands rubbed down your back, tucked your hair behind your ear, his lips against your forehead, not kissing it - though he was tempted.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'll listen, if that's what would help," he offers in his low voice and drawl.

When you pull away, he sees the puffy, red, tired eyes. Despite all the sleep, you still look like you've not rested well in days.

Your lip quivers, you look down. Ted holds your hand.

And it all pours out.

How you feel like a failure at work. How lonely you've been. How sleep never seems to rest you. How incredibly insecure you feel about yourself.

Ted couldn't believe it. He heard the words, and couldn't understand.

Wonderful you.

The way your smile lit up his day. Your playful laugh. How witty you were. How damn generous you were with your time, care, and attention.

He squeezes you tighter to his chest.

As your litany of self-flagellation starts to quiet, he lets you both breathe. His heartbeat against your ear steadies your breath.

"I'mma tell you somethin'," Ted says with a soft voice, his thick drawl evident.

"You're damn good at what you do, at work. You make my job a heckuva lot easier with the press with those releases you put out, and the fires you put out," he adds, his large hand running down your back.

"And I'm sorry you're lonely. But I want to remind ya, you ain't really alone. Not with the family at the club, anyway. We're all here for ya, even if we aren't blood family..."

You nod and sigh.

"And I care about you in more ways than I can express, but we don't gotta talk about that right now..."

Your heart flips a bit at this.

"But you do need to know that your kindness, your gentleness, the way you treat the people around you..."

Ted clears his throat.

"You're one of the best people I've ever met."

Your mouth opens to speak, but he continues.

"My day ain't complete until I see that smile of yours. To know you're smilin' when you're hurtin' like this, well... you're just damn courageous. Add that to the list of amazin' things about ya."

Your lips quirk up slightly.

"You make me laugh. But most importantly, you make people - and me - feel seen. Understood. I ain't never have anyone be so good to me when I'm goin' through my stuff as you have."

You hold Ted a little tighter as his voice breaks. Ted squeezes back.

"I care about ya. And I'm not gonna let you sink with this, ya hear me? I'm here, and I'm gonna help ya like you've helped me."

When he feels you nod he looks down at you and smiles. Your eyes are tired, bleary, and your body feels like it ran a marathon.

"Why don't we get you to bed?"

You nod weakly as he helps you up to your room. Once you're stretched out on the mattress, your eyes practically fall shut with lead weights. Sleep. Finally.

...

In the morning, your eyes blink open. Your depression hasn't vanished but your heart admittedly feels lighter. And you can breathe a little easier.

As you come awake, you notice the clothes in your room put away, or folded on your chair.

The bathroom is tidied.

When you step into the living room, you can see the kitchen has been cleaned, and the dishes done. Your records are put away. Everything orderly. Tidy.

And a sleeping, soft-haired Ted Lasso on your couch, in an undershirt and his sweatpants, snoozing away with the remote in his hand.

He stayed. He stayed on all night. Taking care of you.

You decide to shower - finally. Another thing put off too long. And it feels good to wash away the sadness down the drain a bit more. When you change back into cozy clothes, you see Ted is still snoring softly.

A neatly folded throw blanket gets unfolded.

You slide in front of Ted on the couch, who doesn't wake, but instinctively moves his arm over you to pull you to him. You know he can't hear you, but you whisper anyway.

"Thank you, Teddy."

Behind you, Ted's lips tilt up in a soft smile.

---

Well, I'm crying. How about y'all? I've been in a not great place lately and sometimes I wonder if writing these little stories of comfort are good for me or bad for me because I lack it in my own life? But I decided it was comfortable. Something calming to read when our brains feel like thunderstorms. Thanks for the prompt, friend. And hope you're feeling better. xoxo

[sillygooseassociation]

Welcome Home Surprise

Request: .....................*deep breath in* but what about Ted or Jason coming home after a couple weeks away and finding you curled up all warm like and comfy in one of his jumpers but more importantly noticing that the little barely there bump that you'd only notice if you knew what you were looking at is now a real baby bump still itty bitty but there and noticeable………………*exhale*

Description: Excited to return home after two weeks without you, Ted's excitement grows when he discovers an incidental surprise.

Warning(s): pregnancy, a heartbreaking gif because ted is reaching for someone that isn't there but ignore that and don't cry

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

-

Two weeks was too fucking long. Sure, Ted understood the positives of a team retreat-turned-vacation, it was his idea after all. But when planning the trip months ago, he didn’t account for the surprise detail that would complicate your ability to join the two weeks off in Scotland.

Though traveling did not pose any danger to you or the bean with it only being your first trimester, morning sickness was no joke, meaning the idea of a nine-hour bus ride sounded absolutely horrid. When you told Ted you were going to hang back, he was absolutely torn. He wanted to be there for his team, but he hadn’t been away from you for that long since before you started dating and he hadn’t been away from baby Lasso for longer than two hours. He offered to stay back, assuring you that Beard and Roy can handle the team-building exercises and probably not lose Colin on a cliff somewhere. Rolling your eyes, you pushed him out of your office in the treatment room, telling him there was no way in hell that he was missing the trip, you would be fine, both you and the bean.

Other than the absence of Ted in your bed, it didn’t really feel as though your husband was in a completely different country. With constant texts and both morning and bedtime FaceTimes, Ted made sure to stay as connected to you as possible, even with over 600 kilometers between you. Even though the two of you were consistently talking, it certainly wasn’t the same without him. You missed the smell of biscuits baking and the sound of Ted humming along to your shower playlist while he shaves in the morning. And you know, that the bean doesn’t have ears yet, you know there’s no physiological way that they could know Ted isn’t there. Yet, you swear on everything in your being that they know their dad is away. 

No matter how much you are looking forward to Ted’s return, your eyes grow heavy while laying in bed and reading your book aloud. Yes, the baby can’t hear you yet, but you’ll be damned if your child isn’t the smartest kid there is. Though you desperately wanted to wait up for Ted, it was nearing midnight and you weren’t sure you would make it until his estimated arrival home of 1 am. Putting your book away for the evening, you turn off the lights and relax against your pillow, hugging Ted’s brown hoodie closer to your body. 

Ted lets out a deep sigh as he opens the door to your shared home, placing his duffle bag on the ground as he toes off his shoes, then hanging up his puffer. While he desperately wanted to see your smile and hear you say his name, he was praying that you were asleep, it was far too late for you to be awake, and definitely too late for his little buddy in your belly. A soft smile appears on his face when he arrives at your bedroom, seeing you curled up on your side of the bed, soft snores filling even though you would absolutely deny that. He carefully and quietly tiptoes to the closet, changing into his gray sweats and “World’s Best Dad” shirt, gifted to him from the team rather than Henry oddly enough.

With a quick stop in the en suite to relieve himself and brush his teeth, Ted makes his way to your bed, eager to have you back in his arms again. Sliding into bed, he pulls some of the comforter away from you, though he knows his useless considering you’ll have it all back on your side in ten minutes. His chest meets your back, a content smile on his face as he buries his nose into your hair, he was home. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleep, before laying down, wrapping his arms around your body. Intertwining your legs together, Ted slips his hand under your, his, who knows, sweatshirt, brushing his thumb delicately across the soft skin of your belly. On the brink of sleep, Ted’s thumb stops, his large hand extending across your skin and resting on your stomach in a protective manner.

Ted’s eyes pop open faster than the working shower knocked down Colin.

Wide awake, the rest of his body stays still as he moves his hand across your belly, making sure he wasn’t imagining it. Moving from one side of your stomach to the other - normal, normal, little incline, fairly flat, belly button, fairly flat, little decline, normal, normal. This can’t be his exhausted mind playing tricks on him, right? To be sure, Ted carefully retracts his arm from around your body, slipping out of bed as quietly as he slipped in. He rounds the bed as he takes in a deep breath, it’s okay if it’s not what he thinks it is, but my god he hopes it is.

Standing in front of you, Ted places his hand on your cheek, smiling as you instinctively nestle against his palm. He slowly pulls the blanket away, well attempts to do so at least. A quiet humph and “no” leave your lips, to which Ted chuckles lightly and leans down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll give ‘em back in a minute darlin’, promise.” Not disturbed in the slightest, your sleeping self obliges his request, letting go of your tight grip on the blanket. 

Moving quickly but gently, Ted pulls the comforter down to the bottom of the bed so it covers your feet before he kneels down in front of where you lay. Naturally so, he gets a little distracted just taking you in, trailing his finger up your bare leg until he reaches the bottom of the hoodie. With a deep breath, he pulls the cloth up to rest under your breasts, tears coming to his eyes as his wish is granted. 

He lets out a soft chuckle as he gently places his hand on the small bump, tears coming to his eyes. Sure, not a single person would notice your bump if you were walking down the street, he doubts Keeley would even be able to tell during your shopping trip next week. But he knows. He sees. He notices everything there is to notice about you - a change in perfume or the slightest change to your hairstyle, and now, your small bump. 

Ted wants to celebrate you, he wants to kiss all over your face and shout to the world that you were having a baby (though he’s wanted to do the first one since he met you and the latter since you showed him the positive pregnancy test). Instead, he lets you sleep, standing up and pulling the comforter back over your body, smiling as you pull the blanket close to you and roll over. He rounds the bed, sliding back into the bed, but lower this time. With his entire body under the blanket, Ted pulls his pillow down, positioning himself so his head is next to your bump. The bed isn’t exceptionally large by any means, leaving Ted to curl his legs up into his stomach in the fetal position, surely uncomfortable, but he didn’t have a single complaint. Instead he gave a smile to your bump and leaned forward to place a small kiss on your skin, “Sleep well, baby.” With one last tired grin, Ted closes his eyes, falling fast asleep with his hand on the bump, holding your child as much as he his holding you.

[sortofanobsession]

omg I’m so glad you’re alive and I hope you’re feeling better. Can’t wait to read your Ted lasso writing again<3

Author's Note: ask and you shall receive...

Content warning: injury, hospital, surgery, anxiety, fear, cussing (it's Roy so duh) Crying.

Paring: Roy/Jamie

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

No Show Roy-o

Jamie paced the locker room. The team just watching him. 

Everyone's eyes snap to the door when someone starts to open it but they are disappointed when Ted and Beard walk in. The two coaches look at each other and then the team before heading into the office. 

"Okay, something is wrong," Ted says as he sets his backpack down. 

"Clearly," Beard replies. 

Ted watches the team through the window and notices all the attention on Tartt. Well, then he knew where to start.

"What's wrong, Jamie?" Ted asks as he approaches the striker. 

"Roy didn't show for training this morning and he isn't here yet."

"Has he ever missed before?" 

"The man actually lives to wake me up at 4 am to order me around," Jamie states. "No, he never misses. Not without a text at least."

"Did you call him?"

"I'm not daft," Jamie huffs. "Several times. No answer. Now it goes to voicemail."

"Some of us tried too," Isaac says. "Nothing."

"Keeley hasn't been able to ring him either," Jamie says. "Should I call his sister?"

"You have his sister's number?"

"For emergencies, and Phoebe," Jamie admits. 

"Hold on, you have contact with Roy's niece?" Ted asks. "She's what? 8?"

"That's really the important part to you now?" Jamie asks.

"Kinda, odd friendship there," Ted admits. 

"She insists I'm Roy's best friend, and Roy says it's for emergencies. She has a very different definition of emergencies, like you said, she's 8."

"Okay, fine," Ted says. He could let that go for now.  

"Do you think this counts as an emergency?" Jamie asks. 

"Let's see if he is doesn’t show, not just later than normal," Ted says. 

But when time comes to head out to the pitch and Roy still isn't there Jamie cracks and texts Roy's sister. She texts him back that she'll check his place. And that gives Jamie some reassurance as he begins training. He gives Ted his phone in case she or Roy calls. Ted initially thought it was silly, but about an hour in she does call. She tells Ted that Roy wasn't there and the fact he isn't answering for her is unusual. Roy would never ignore a call from her or Phoebe. But she also insists that Roy can handle himself. And she'll let them know if she hears anything. And that makes Ted a bit nervous. They were just about to take a break when Phoebe called Jamie. She is crying and Ted actually does call Jamie over for this one. And Jamie, still in his kit, drags Ted inside. Changes only his boots while still on the phone and whispers to Ted to get what he needs. 

"Where are we going?" Ted asks but does as Jamie says because something feels very wrong here. 

"The fucking hospital," Jamie hisses, not to be mean but more so Phoebe doesn't hear. 

"Oh, that's bad, yeah, let's go." Ted nods and follows Jamie’s lead. 

"We're on the way Phoebe, just stay there." 

Phoebe runs over and hugs Jamie when she sees him.

"Hey, Phoe," Jamie says and despite the fact she is 8 years old, Jamie hauls her up into his arms for a hug. And Ted is almost envious of how easy that seemed for him. But Ted is still very confused. "You remember Coach Ted?" Jamie asks her. She nods as Jamie sets her down. 

"Hi Phoebe," Ted says. "Are you okay?" Ted asks. 

She shrugs and looks over. Ted sees a doctor he had met before, but she looked out of place in street clothes. 

"Hey, Doc." Jamie hugs her. "What happened?"

"Still trying to sort that out," she says.

"You're Roy's sister?" Ted finally asks. 

"Oh sorry, yeah, Coach Lasso, Doc. Doc, Coach Lasso."

"Thanks Jamie," Ted says at the less than helpful introduction but Jamie is already being pulled away to the waiting area by Phoebe. 

"How much did Jamie tell you?" 

"Absolutely nothing," Ted admits. 

She shakes her head. "Right, Roy was brought in about a half hour ago. A friend of mine on shift recognized him and called me. They think he was hit by a car but we have no idea."

"Oh wow, I am so sorry, that-" Ted starts to say but she stops him.

"Thank you, he's in surgery now, I assume you will want to let Ms. Welton know. He might be out for a while."

"Yeah, right, good calls must run in the family," he says. 

"Something like that," she says before going to check on Phoebe. 

She leans in and whispers to Jamie that Roy is in surgery and it's a waiting game now. 

Ted calls Rebecca and Beard, then Keeley. Keeley is there in less than twenty minutes.

"Keeley?" Jamie asks when he sees her. She hugs Phoebe and then him. 

"Ted called," she says and smacks his arm. 

"What was that for?"

"You didn't call me!"

"I was busy with her," Jamie says, gesturing to Phoebe. Thankfully she had her headphones on and was curled up in a chair. 

"Fine, that is an acceptable excuse. Here," she hands him a bag. "I ran by Nelson Road and got your stuff. Sam had made sure it was packed up. They're all pretty worried."

"They aren't the only ones," Jamie glances at Phoebe. 

"Does Ted know?" 

She glances out the window to where Ted was clearly on the phone with Rebecca or Higgins.

"Know what?"

"About you and Roy?" She says.

"Nah, didn't know if I should tell him. We haven't talked about it."

"Well, I think this might genuinely blow your cover."

"Hasn't yet," Jamie says.

"Jamie, I know you. You're managing right now because of Phoebe, but the minute you see him, you-"

"I know," Jamie seems to deflate. "I am trying so hard but-" 

"Oh babe," she hugs him and grimaces. "I love you, Jamie but do us all a favor and change. I'll stay with her."

"Yeah, right, okay," Jamie says as he heads to the toilets to change. 

"Where's Jamie?" Ted asks when he gets back.

"Changing out of his kit, Ted there is something I need to tell you, the boys might get mad, but Jamie is going to need someone and as much as he tries to hide it he is terrified."

"Okay, lay it on me," Ted says.

"Roy and Jamie have been secretly dating since just after international break."

"Wow," Ted says. "That's…new information." He admits. "Does explain why he has Roy's sister in his phone. And why he was so worried when Roy didn't show up for training." 

"They were keeping it a secret because well, for a lot of reasons, but I believe that ship might have sailed based on the fact Jamie didn't even change out of his kit."

"Did change his boots," Ted says.

"Probably not easy to drive in," she says.

"Probably," Ted agrees. 

"Please don't make a big deal out of it, Jamie wasn't going to say anything because he wasn't sure if Roy would want him to, but Jamie brought you for a reason. He brought you because he trusts you and Roy trusts you. And I know you won't hold this against them."

"Heck no, I'm glad they have each other, just surprised is all. You think Jamie is just a ticking time bomb in this one?"

"Definitely," Keeley nods. "And I'm not sure what will set him off."

"Thanks for the heads up, I'll keep this between us unless something happens."

"Thank you, Ted." 

Keeley heads back to work after they promise to keep her in the loop. Roy's sister comes back a bit later to tell them that Roy was out of surgery but it would be a bit before anyone could see him.

"You should be at training," is the first thing out of Roy Kent's mouth when they walk in. He glares at Jamie. 

"Uncle Roy!" Phoebe rushes over and hugs him as best as she can.

"Hi, Phoebe," he says before looking at Jamie. 

"You really think I would stay at training after they called me?" Jamie challenges.

"Yes, not much you can do here," Roy says.

"How hard did that car hit you?” Jamie narrows his gaze at him. “Because clearly your brain is rattled, old man." 

"How you feeling, Roy?" Ted asks to get the two to quit being so grumpy.

"Like I got hit by a car," Roy states.

"You did," Phoebe sniffles. 

"I'm okay, kid," he says. Earning a scoff from Jamie. Roy glares at him. "You should-"

"Oh, Jamie Tartt's not going anywhere," Ted assures him. "Rebecca already knows you'll be out for a while, and sorry boys, but the cats out of the bag on this one."

"You told him," Roy glares at Jamie again.

"I did not," Jamie looks just as shocked. 

"Keeley told me," Ted says. "Because she was worried Jamie was handling it too well."

"Of course she was," Jamie complains. 

"You did cry, like a lot earlier," Phoebe says. 

"Thanks for that, Phoe," Jamie says, his tone less than amused at being called out by a literal child.

"Phoebe, why don't you help me find your mom and call Keeley," Ted says. 

She seems to weigh her options.

"And stop by the vending machines," Ted adds.

"Okay," she hugs her uncle again before following Ted out. Roy looks over at Jamie and can tell he really is hanging in by a thread.

"I'm fine," Roy says. And Jamie doesn't even say anything, just crawls in the bed beside Roy. Roy grunts but manages to shift a bit to make them both fit. "Better?" Roy asks once Jamie is practically molded into his side. 

"Yes, much," Jamie says and he buried his face in Roy's shoulder. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Roy's sister says when she walks in. 

"Not my idea," Roy says.

"Not complainin' though, yeah?" Jamie counters.

"Tear his stitches and I'm banning you myself, Tartt," she says.

"Ouch, Doc," Jamie says. "But fair."

She hums as she sets to checking his vitals. 

“Pain?” She asks.

He grunts.

“Roy,” she starts but Jamie beats her to it. 

“It's either now or you have to admit it when Phoebe gets back,” Jamie says. And whether it is because he's right or that Jamie's so close to losing it Roy knows he needs to answer. 

“Fine, 6.”

“Right,” his sister says.

She makes a few notes.

It was quiet again when she left. 

“Are you mad?” Jamie asks.

“That I got hit by a fucking car?” Roy counters. That seemed like an obvious question. Of fucking course he was. He could have died. His mind circles back as Jamie shifts. 

“That people know,” Jamie corrects. “About us.”

Roy considers it as best he can with painkillers in his system. And he really doesn't fucking care because Jamie is there with him and despite how he was acting before he was glad he was there. It had been terrifying to think he might die when he has people that need him. 

“No,” Roy finally answered. “Needed you here, and if that's the fucking cost. Fine.”

“Good, because I think the team knew something was up, but that might have been because I couldn't sit still.”

“When have you ever fucking sat still?” Roy posits.

“This was worse,” Jamie tells him. “I'm sure Will is going to be pissed at the state of my boots. Pacing constantly on a hard surface.”

“Well get you new fucking boots,” Roy assures.

“Least of my worries, love,” Jamie admits, carefully shifting so he can see Roy's face. “Scared the shit out of me when I couldn't- you weren't answering. No one could find you. You never-”

“Fuck,” Roy says because Jamie has tears streaming down his face and he hates when that happens. He hates that it's because of him, even if he had no say in what happened to him. Despite the ache it causes Roy reaches up and brushes as many of those tears away as he can without risking his stitches. “I'm-”

“Don't!” Jamie starts to pull away. The striker knew what he was about to say. Jamie vehemently shakes his head, causing Roy's hand to have to fall back to the bed. “You are not fucking fine, Roy,” Jamie states, and it was clear what little hold Jamie had on his feelings was slipping. “Because I’m not! Phoebe isn’t either. You nearly died! I can't…do you think I want to do any of this shit without you? Because I fucking don't.”

“Not fucking asking you to,” Roy says, and it probably comes out more aggressive than he intended because Jamie was no longer tucked against his side. The footballer was on his feet, having wound himself up to pacing again. And Roy's chest always gets tight when Jamie does that shit. He needs Jamie to be okay. But he knows he probably said that wrong when Jamie glares at him. 

“You didn't fucking have to,” Jamie retorts. And that's fair. 

“Fucking hell,” Roy grumbles, attempting to sit up so he can better track Jamie's movement. 

“Don’t do that,” Jamie grumbles as he moves back to help him. “Hurt yourself and your sister will boot me.”

“Then quit fucking pacing,” Roy tugs at Jamie's arm until he sits on the edge of the bed. Roy sighs, ignoring the ache in his ribs as he does. 

“I'm not fucking dying, Tartt. Fucking doctors made sure of it.”

“Barely,” Jamie says.

“But they fucking did, and that's fucking that.”

Jamie scoffs but doesn't bother arguing. He was anxious and still thinking about how much worse things could have been, and how much could still go wrong.

“Look at me, Tartt,” Roy demands. Jamie does. “I know this is a fucking mess, but I will be fucking fine. You know why?” Jamie shrugs. “Because you lot won't stop until I am. You, my sister and Ted fucking Lasso, are all fucking determined. Throw in Keeley and that fucking team. I probably won't get a fucking quiet moment til I'm back at the dog track. So fucking do it.”

“Are you telling me to take care of you?” Jamie asks. 

“Going to fucking do it anyway, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jamie nods. “What do you need me to do?”

“You're here, so things are already fucking better,” Roy states. That has warmth spreading through Jamie's chest because Roy has less filter than most, but it would appear he has even less now. And it's oddly sweet.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Jamie says as he shifts to prop his knee up on the bed and takes Roy's hand in his. The fact Roy seems to relax even more has Jamie smiling for what feels like the first time all day. “And you heard the gaffer, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me.”

“Good, going to need help with the kid,” Roy says. “She is going to be impossible to get rid of.”

“Don't lie Kent, you love every second of it. You love that kid.”

“Not the only fucking one,” Roy states. 

“That loves Phoebe? Of course not, she's adorable and-”

Roy squeezes his hand. 

“That I love, you fucking muppet. Sometimes I wonder why but fucking hell, Tartt. I fucking love you.”

Jamie grins. “Fucking love you too, you prick.”

Roy tugs him until Jamie lays back down beside him. There is a knock at the door. Jamie goes to get up but Roy doesn't let him. 

“Well aren't you two adorable,” Ted says as he and Phoebe come in. 

“Fuck off, Lasso,” Roy grunts.

“Uncle Roy,” Phoebe starts.

“I know, kid,” Roy says. 

“Your mum probably knows where his wallet is more than he does,” Jamie says.

“Could probably finally cash out that tab I've heard about,” Ted adds.

“Oi, don't give her fucking ideas.”

“That's two,” Ted states. 

“Fucking hell,” Roy mutters, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillows. 

“Three,” Phoebe giggles. 

“I got you,” Jamie quietly tells Roy. Jamie grabs his wallet from his locker and tosses it to Phoebe. Phoebe gives him a look. “He's been through it, so I'll take the hit for him.” Jamie grins. Phoebe just shrugs and takes three quid from him.

“Now he owes you,” Phoebe says, setting his wallet on the table by his phone, which he had set aside to focus on Roy when he initially crawled into the bed. 

Roy glares at him, but it doesn't bother the striker. 

[cinnamon-mey]

Bunny

A/N: A short drabble John Price x F!Reader because of reasons. I tag my current fav people in the CoD fandom @yeyinde and @taurus-ted because I love your writings and you inspire me, guys.

Warnings: Fluff, Drama, Mention of death, Romance, Melancholy, Friends to lovers, Explicit language (a bit).

My native language is not English so I apologize if you find some mistakes, I’m still improving.

You knew John Price for ages.

He's been a great friend of your older brother and he often visited your family when you all were younger. He's like family to you, another brother who cares if you're okay and if he has to kick some boyfriend's ass.

And you never stopped to love John Price, even when your brother died under the bullets to save him.

His guilt, though, was too much to handle and, with time, he slowly stepped outside your life.

It's two years now you haven't seen him, not a call, not even a text but he knows you're still the bartender of his favorite pub.

You're busy cleaning the counter when the door opens.

“Sorry, we're close!” You raise your voice before turning around to see who's there.

Your eyes open wide, and your lungs hold your breath. “John…” You whisper.

“Hello, Bunny.” He greets, taking off his hat and making a shy smile.

Bunny.

For seven years you haven’t heard that nickname, since your brother died. And now your eyes can't hold nostalgic tears and happiness to see him again.

You don't hesitate in the hug you give to him, and he returns with the same warmth. You still wear the same perfume he remembered.

“Ah shit.” You say, wiping your tears away. “You look great. Come, have a seat.”

You run around the counter, pouring his favorite scotch into two glasses while he approaches slowly, putting his hat on the wooden surface, and sitting on a stool.

You raise your glass making a toast. “To the friends reunited.”

He clinks his glass against yours before taking a sip.

You stare at each other in silence for long moments, enduring the memories that fill your minds.

A smirk appears over your face, then. “You got some grey hair.”

“And you're a vision, as always.” He says lowering his glance at his glass.

The confidence with which he says it makes you shiver but you deliberately ignore it since you think it's inappropriate.

You clear your throat. “Well, how are things?”

He takes another sip. “Things are going well…” He nods, cleaning his mustache with the knuckle of the index. “I'm currently on my break so, I thought I’d come to visit you.”

“I'm glad…” You make a polite smile but you can't even look at him and he knows why.

How could he blame you?

“I'm sorry if I didn't show up in the last two years.”

You wet your lips, finishing your scotch in one sip and moving to wash the glass.

He gets brave finishing his drink. “I missed you.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask a bit upset.

He gets up, walking slowly around the counter to reach you. “Yeah.” He says with a low voice and put his empty glass in the sink right in front of you. His eyes don't leave you even for a moment, you can feel his closeness and his silently begging for your attention.

He shuts off the water, touching gently your face to invite you to look up at him. There’s no need to talk since you both already know where this is going. He bends over, and without any rush your lips join in a sweet kiss. Of course he tastes of cigar and scotch, you expect nothing less from him.

You can't help but surrender.

His hand slips on your back to gently push you against him as your hands wrap his nape, increasing the intensity of the making out.

When you break the kiss to catch some air, his eyes are worshiping you.

“How long have you wanted to do this?” You say in a whisper.

“Longer than I want to admit.”

[tripleyeeet]

LET'S WASTE TIME CHASING CARS

 PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Female Reader

SUMMARY: After Loki finds you crying in the parking lot he makes it his sole mission to figure out why.

WORD COUNT: 6,617

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Another re-written repost because I've got the big sad and can't be bothered to be creative anymore apparently. :')

MASTERLIST

-

 “Are you alright?”

Suddenly exhaling, your breath feels heavy throughout the base of your chest. An odd amount of tightness fills your insides, causing you to struggle to look through the partially open window of your car, finding yourself lost at the sudden presence of a voice.

It’s unfamiliar to you, dripping in elegance with dashes of concern laced throughout. As soon as you hear it, your throat partially closes, and the ability to swallow becomes lost as you cautiously turn to face it, feeling the gaze of an equally unfamiliar man staring back at you. 

He’s taller than most men; 6’3”, maybe 6' 4”, his hair dropping down to his shoulders in thick waves. Like his voice, he’s overtly appropriate, the blacked-out tux he wears tight against his frame much like his overall posture, while his face protrudes in perfect angles. 

Clearing your throat, you sniff and wipe the edges of your eyes with your hands, the knuckles of your thumbs dragging across the already-smudged mascara that coats your skin. It’s an action that immediately fills you with embarrassment because who the fuck just casually cries in a church parking lot in the middle of the day? Nobody sane, surely.

And yet, drenched in tears and sweat, the hot summer air clinging to the never-ending fabric that covers your frame, you realize you’re the kind of crazy person who does that. Who does all sorts of stupid things.

“Miss are you—“

“I’m fine!” 

Cutting him off aggressively, you stare him down and watch as he sort of stiffly leans forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he narrows his eyes. “Pardon me, but you don’t look very fine,” he says, and despite the urge to just roll up your window and call the interaction there, you merely stare back at him, feeling your jaw clench with the sort of aggression you usually reserve for cat-callers or mansplainers. Not overly good-looking gentlemen who border on the edge of polite and creepy. 

“That’s because I’m not,” you admit, an awkward laugh impulsively tumbling out of you.

“Obviously not.” Without much thought, you shoot him a glare. “I mean, if you were, you'd be inside with the rest of the bridal party instead of crying outside.” 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch as he straightens his back again, the smile from his previous bout of laughter still present across his face as he silently circles around the front of the car, glancing at you with every step. 

At which point you feel your heart begin to race, partly out of fear, partly out of excitement as you stare back, your eyes darting to the hand that moves from the confines of his pocket to the handle of your door. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled on account of the passenger window being tightly shut. 

You open your mouth to respond; your voice catching in your throat as you debate the implications of letting some strange, way-too-perfect man into your less-than-perfect car because obviously there are some. Both negative and positive –the potentials of what could happen are endless and immediately your mind begins to conjure up each fabricated storyline without much warning. 

For example, he could kill you right then and there —could take a gun out of his jacket pocket and put it to your head without an ounce of remorse. He could do that and shoot you or better yet, kidnap you —pull a Ted Bundy and take you back to his place where he’d do unspeakable things to your mind and body all for the sake of his own personal d—

Before you can come up with a better daydream he’s opening the door, a low groan sounding through the air as he crouches down into the bucket seat of your old Daytona, his body almost too tall to even fit. 

Nervously, you lick your lips and lean your body away from him, moving your hand slowly toward the handle of your door as he slams his own. 

“Sorry, felt a bit strange trying to have a conversation with a wall of metal between us,” he says, smoothing out the front of his jacket as he turns to face you. “Now uh, what seems to be the problem?” 

You’re not sure what to say then —how to stop and articulate your thoughts and feelings into words that won’t immediately scare this poor man away.

“I uh—“

“I’m assuming it has to do with the wedding,” he responds, motioning towards the church that sits across the pavement, its godly appearance burning holes into your chest that feels like hellfire itself. 

“Maybe.”

“In love with the groom perhaps?” he muses, a sly smirk crawling across his lips at the same time he crosses his arms. 

Rolling your eyes, you mirror his movements by tucking one arm under the other, tightening the grip around yourself as you give him an unimpressed stare. “I’m not that much of a cliche.” 

“No?”

“No.” 

“But there is someone in there you’re avoiding, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?” 

Like you, he stops to contemplate, his mouth falling slightly open as his brows gravitate towards the centre of his face, indicating his sudden confusion.

At which point it becomes painfully obvious to you that he isn’t entirely sure why he cares —why he’s suddenly inserted himself into the problems of a stranger by aggressively jumping into the passenger side of her car. Clearly, it’s not something he does often, which as he closes his mouth, letting out a light huff, makes you wonder why now? Why, of all people, has he decided to take notice of you?

“I don’t really know,” he eventually says, his once soft, welcoming features hardening into something that doesn’t scare you but definitely makes you less comfortable. “Guess I just got sort of… caught up in the moment.” 

“The moment?” you scoff, unsure what that means. “You mean the one right before this where I was just crying?”

Silently he shrugs, his shoulders bouncing at the same time he nods, causing your expression to contort into something resembling both confusion and annoyance as you watch his eyes begin to wander out towards the parking lot. 

He looks tired, almost as if he’s bored and just looking for something to fill up his time. As he stares his eyes are devoid of brightness —of interest in the things that surround him, leaving you to wonder if maybe that’s why he decided to join you. Maybe in his own suffering, he decided he needed something to distract him —to give himself meaning in an otherwise idle existence. 

It sounds crazy but you can see it in his eyes; the way they sort of stare through everything rather than focus on it. It’s the same look you get whenever you’re stuck in a place you don’t want to be with people you care very little about, prompting your previous response to melt into understanding. 

“Are you here for the wedding too?” 

Changing the subject, you watch as his gaze moves back to you, his eyes still dull but no longer completely empty. 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Unable to hide your amusement at his answer, you find yourself grinning. “Friend of the bride or groom?” 

“Neither.”

“Okay then why are you here?“

“The groom actually incarcerated me a few years back on account of trying to take over your world.” 

Raising your brow, you watch as his lips sort of quiver out into a smile, one that’s all teeth and wide open, his tongue partially sticking out as he laughs. 

For some reason it fills you with an odd sense of pride watching it happen; almost as if seeing this stranger laugh is something to be cherished. Because, if you’re honest, he doesn’t seem like the laughing type nor the kind of person who outwardly feels moments of contentment. No, he seems much more withdrawn than that. More so the type to hide away any positive feelings he may have in favour of portraying something entirely different.

Something almost ignorant.

“So, I take it you’re Thor’s brother Loki then?” 

Hearing the low growl of his laughter begin to die out, you find yourself sneakily backtracking to his previous statement, wondering how on earth he managed to regain the trust of not only Tony Stark, but really the whole bridal party after such an unforgivable stunt.  

“The one and only,” he says, and immediately you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes as you watch his arms obnoxiously raise outward with pride.

“I’m surprised you made it,” you retort, pausing to wet your lips as you watch the way his arms casually fall back to his sides. “Normally you never show up to these things.” 

“Yes, well, apparently after it was discovered that Barton had a hidden family it became mandatory for all team members to attend major personal events.” 

“Ah, yes, the elusive Barton family. I’ve heard good things.”

“I’ve never met them. I’m not allowed to on account of the fact that—“

“You tried to take over the world,” you finish, your tone filled with boredom as you lazily lean forward, pressing the side of your face against the edge of the steering wheel.

“Not a fan of my work, I’m guessing.” 

Awkwardly, you snort and move your arm to partially hide the tentative curving of your lips, suddenly feeling unsure about how to navigate the oncoming trail of conversation. “It’s not that I’m not a fan,” you say, your lips moving on their own, pausing to let your brain catch up as you bite back the smile that still presents itself across the lower half of your face. “I just think what you did was pretty stupid.”

“Stupid?” Puzzled, Loki looks at you, his pupils blown out as he shuffles to his side, pressing his shoulder against the backing of the seat to get a better look at you.

Staring back, you take a moment to properly survey him again, your eyes trailing down the length of his face, picking apart the angled features, lapping them up like a visual honey too sweet for you to swallow. 

More than anything you want to look as long as possible —want to lock eyes and really get a feel for what makes him tick even though you know you shouldn’t because people like him (interesting people who do things because they want to) and people like you (boring ones who just do what they’re told) don’t really mix well. 

“Very stupid, actually. Momentously stupid. Almost stupider than me agreeing to come to a wedding with my ex boyfriend who also happens to be my coworker.”

You’re not sure why you tell him; why your mouth just falls open and the words sort of spill out like they’re nothing but they do and at that point, his interest has already peaked, his brows rising upwards at the same time a small scoff of disapproval falls from his lips. 

“Ex boyfriend and coworker? Are you mad?”

“Maybe,” you cringe, trying your best to ignore the unfortunate recognition; your face scrunching up to reveal clenched teeth and wide eyes. 

Chuckling, he leans towards you in his seat, casually resting his elbow against the headrest. “That’s quite the trek, from coworkers to friends to lovers to—“

“Oh, we were never friends,” you correct, feeling another wave of embarrassment rush through your system once you realize that you could’ve just left it that. He doesn’t need to know the timeline of your dating history. 

“So lovers was the start of your romantic journey?” he muses. 

“I guess so, yeah.” 

“But that ended once you started working together?” 

Pressing your lips together tightly, you wonder how weird it would be if you just left. If you just unlocked your car door and got out and left without another word. It’d probably be easier than explaining whatever it is you can feel him shamelessly fishing for. He doesn’t know anything about you and you only really know what you’ve read in the media or in files you’ve stumbled upon through work about him, so really your Loki knowledge isn’t all that sufficient either. 

Yet despite that, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is just something he does —exploits information out of people to get the upper hand. Given his public track record, it wouldn’t be a far-off assumption. He did, in fact, try to take over the world amongst other things so the act to collect the details of people and their behaviours is probably somewhat ingrained into his system.

Most likely, he’s the kind of guy that, no matter the situation, he needs to be on top of things —needs to know exactly what he’s getting into so that he can know how to get out. But what exactly does that have to do with this conversation? And why is he still here, sitting inside your shitty car asking you about relationships and acting all chummy as if he knows you?

Sighing in slight defeat, you move your hands to your eyes, palming the sockets for a good few seconds as you debate whether or not you should continue talking, because really what could be the harm? Sure, Loki’s the king at causing problems but you’re not the greatest at avoiding them either, so really what’s the issue here? 

“I got the job after we hooked up at a bar,” you eventually admit, realizing just how terrible it sounds. “Neither of us knew each other beforehand and he was cute so we had sex and then somewhere along the line I mentioned that I needed a job so he got me one.”

“You had sex to get a job,” he states, his tone mixed with amusement and confusion, causing you to groan and roll your eyes because yeah that’s kind of what you did but at the same time not at all.

“I mean, I didn’t have sex with him with the intention of snagging one,” you say, watching as Loki sort of nods his head, his expression skeptical. “I had sex with him because he was hot and I was bored and then somewhere along the line I thought we connected so I told him I didn’t have a job and then because he’s fucking weird he offered to get me one where he worked, which in retrospect, now that I’m thinking about it was obviously a very stupid idea and—“

“Is that why you were crying?” 

Cutting you off, Loki stops all movement, his eyes taking place within your own, watching as they blink away the tears that begin to reform. 

You don’t want to admit that that was why you were crying —why the second you saw your ex across the room, motioning for you to come dance, you basically had a full-blown panic attack and made a run for it.

“Because if so, let me be the first to tell you that crying over a man is hardly worth it.”

You’re not sure why but the sudden image of him sprawled out in the passenger seat, his gaze hard yet sincere as he gives you a pep talk about boys even though he knows very little about the situation is hilarious to you. So hilarious, that you can’t help but laugh.

“And you’re saying this because you have experience?” you question, taking a moment to wipe your eyes and deeply breathe, feeling the storm begin to settle again as Loki shuffles next to you in his seat.

“Of course I do, I’m a thousand years-old.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re experienced. They’re two different things.” 

Leaning slightly forward, he pauses and flashes you a smirk, his stare boring into you in a way that makes your body move away from his, closer to the door that you once again debate escaping through. 

“Believe me darling, I’m as experienced as I am mischievous.” 

And suddenly, just like that, his presence is too much. Inside the claustrophobic confines of your car, where you can feel his breath fanning your face and his eyes exploring your features, taking in each section as the moments slowly pass, you feel almost trapped within his gaze —trapped within the thoughts of what could happen next, because really, anything could. He could merely mutter something sarcastic or make some joke about how being old correlates to having lots of sex (which you’re sure in his case is probably correct). He’s attractive in a conventional way and witty in a mysterious one and yeah, technically a prince so why wouldn’t he get laid? 

Suddenly, his intentions feel like a hidden treasure, locked away behind the gaze that keeps glancing between your lips and eyes, lingering at the former —making you wonder if maybe he’s got something else on his mind.  

Because he’s at a wedding after all. Most likely alone because the thought of him attaching himself to anyone involved in Tony Stark’s inner circle seems less than likely. He’s probably just lonely and bored, looking for distractive solace in the hands of another. You figure that’s probably why he first stopped for you in the first place—why he inserted himself into the passenger seat of not only your car but now your problems, leaving you with two choices: accept him and bring him along for the ride or kick him out before things get too weird. 

Being the terrible decision-maker that you are, you immediately pick the first one, tearing your gaze from his reach to grab your seatbelt, feeling your chest pound. 

Next to you, Loki leans back again and gives you a confused stare, watching as your attention quickly changes from him to the inner workings of your vehicle, your one hand moving to click your seatbelt into place while your other reaches for the ignition. 

“No longer care to keep up appearances?” he asks humorously and you shake your head, turning your attention to the rearview mirror as you begin to back up.

“I never wanted to come in the first place,” you grumble, cautiously turning the wheel in your hands as you attempt to perfectly position your car. “All I wanted to do was spend my weekend lying in bed in my underwear drinking wine and watching reruns of Criminal Minds.” 

“The night’s still young,” Loki quips, laughing after he notices you subtly roll your eyes.

“Nice try, but we’re definitely not doing that. Not together. I barely know you.”

“Well that seems a bit unfair given your apparent track record, don’t you think?” 

As you finish pulling out of the parking space and turn to move toward the exit, you give Loki an unimpressed look, knowing that he’s right. You’re a giver of temptation and if he wasn’t right and you weren’t as stubborn, you both know you would’ve taken him up on his offer right then and there. 

“I’m just saying. You’re obviously attractive enough to get what you want,” he quickly adds, raising his hands in defence, watching as you scrunch up your face and turn back towards the pavement, trying your best to ignore the way his lips part into yet another smirk. “And clearly based on the way you reacted to my staring I assume I fall under that category, so who am I to deny the chemistry that we’ve so easily acquired in these mere moments?”

“Chemistry,” you snort, shaking your head as you glance both ways before pulling out of the parking lot and turning left. “Loki, I don’t even know you.”

“There’s not a lot to know.”

“You don’t even know me then.” 

“Please, I know plenty about you,” he retorts, turning to face the church as it begins to disappear behind you. “I know that you work under Pepper because if you worked under Tony I would’ve already heard about you.”

“That’s not—“

“I know that you’re impulsive.”

“Okay but—“

“I also know that, like me, that last thing you want to be is bored,” he says, looking back to raise his brow at you as you make another left turn, trying your best to ignore the irritation that rises throughout your system. “Which is precisely why you’ve chosen to basically kidnap me in some last ditch effort to fuel your own distractive entertainment.” 

Dropping your jaw, you look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing the ever-present smirk that fails to leave his face grow even larger. “I'm not kidnapping you.”

“Luring me into your car, failing to give me the option to leave before driving off like some maniac,” he responds, counting each point on his hand. “That seems to me like your classic case of kidnapping.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back towards the road, shaking your head as you attempt to shove away the discomfort you feel in knowing that, once again, he’s right because you do hate the feeling of boredom. You hate how it slowly, painstakingly inserts itself into your life any chance it can get; pulling you in, wrapping its roots around your feet, trapping you in a way that’s minuscule and easy to escape from, yet hardly worth the effort. 

So often you find yourself stuck within these episodes; ones where everything you do feels meaningless and never enough, forcing you to confront the notion that maybe this is all you’ll ever be. A boring person who works a boring job, whose only way of escapism is to make stupid mistakes.

Because that’s exactly what this is. This whole day has just been one mistake after another; an impulsive path of reckless behaviours that Loki can spot a mile away, because not only are you the things he’s previously mentioned, but apparently you’re also easier to read than fucking children’s book.

“I feel like kidnapping is a strong word,” you eventually retort, your mind moving back to the conversation, even though at this point a part of you just wants to pull over and kick him out of the car so you can go about the rest of your day in peace. 

“So is the truth, oftentimes,” Loki says and immediately you groan. 

“Tell me, are you always this annoying?”

Laughing, he raises his arms and shrugs, leading you to believe that the lack of verbal confirmation means that most likely, yes he probably is, and no, you probably can’t do anything about it. 

Regardless though, you try anyway. 

“If you could be less annoying, you know, on account of the fact that I’ve had a really hard day, I’d appreciate it,” you say, offering him an innocent grin. 

“Only if you properly tell me why your day’s been so hard,” he says back, shooting you a grin of his own. 

Unsurprisingly though it isn’t filled with innocence. No, it’s filled with chaos and perversity, the ends of his teeth poking out from between his lips. 

Fighting back the urge to groan again, you heavily blink and release a breath, hearing the laughter that he immediately emits in response to your obvious annoyance.

“Fine, but I want ice cream first.” 

-

By the time you’re at the front of the line, ready to order and devour your ice cream the way you’ve been dreaming about since you decided on the whole idea, you’re reminded of Loki’s presence again, causing you to sigh. 

During the entirety of the drive, he wouldn’t stop talking —asking you questions about your life and your ex and how the events of said relationship had led you to this exact moment. (The one where you supposedly kidnapped him and convinced him to get dessert instead of staying at the church for dinner).

Every time he asked you, you forced yourself to turn him down, repeating your previous statement about how you wouldn’t talk until there was a bowl of ice cream in your hand, prompting him to scowl or roll his eyes or, near the end of the drive, both. 

It drove you absolutely crazy, dealing with the onslaught of overly pressured chatter followed by the discomforting moments of silence that you’d receive after scolding him for not listening. Honestly, it was almost like dealing with the nosiest child, hellbent on learning every viable piece of information he could even though none of it really mattered because you and your ex were done —finished and over with, which meant there was nothing to talk about. Nothing to say or explain or to uproot and burden him with. 

Regardless of that though as you finish ordering, Loki leans in close, the side of his body brushing against yours as he whispers a quick, “so, now are you going to talk about it?” at the same time you pull out your cash to give to the girl at the register. 

“Is the ice cream in my hand?” you ask, giving him a stern look. 

“No, but—“

“Then chill out, alright?” 

Shaking your head at his lack of patience, the girl at the till then asks you your name and absentmindedly you give it to her, afterward glancing over at Loki whose brows suddenly raise at the sound.

You realize then that up until this point you hadn’t bothered to properly introduce yourself. A fact that you immediately find conflicting as the two of you wander over to the handoff plane where your ice cream already awaits. 

As you move to grab it you hear Loki mumble your name on his tongue, repeating it a couple of times with a smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he eagerly follows behind you. 

“I like it, it’s got a nice ring to it,” he says and a part of you feels almost embarrassed at the number of times he’s uttered it. 

“Yeah, well, it’s the one my mom gave me.” 

“It suits you.” 

Ignoring him then, you grab your ice cream off the counter, offering the worker behind it a quick smile before ushering through the doorway, feeling Loki hot on your trail as you awkwardly try to push the door open with your body. 

Almost immediately, Loki comes to your aid, reaching around to grab the handle before pushing it out so you can slide from its grasp, prompting you to mumble a quick thanks as you both wander back towards the car. 

“Alright, now that you have your ice cream, speak up,” he says on the way, watching as you roll your eyes and move to lean against the hood, tucking one leg behind the other comfortably.

“I don’t understand why you want to know. It’s not that interesting,” you say before taking a bite of your dessert, your lips wrapping around the spoon as you practically moan at the taste. 

“Interest is a matter of opinion,” he replies, taking the space next to you. “Something that’s uninteresting to you could very well be interesting to me. Take for example, the time I literally stabbed Thor in the back.”

“Why did you stab your brother in the back?” 

“What do you mean why?” 

“I don’t know, it just seems kind of rude.” 

Giving you a confused look, he shakes his head. “Rude?”

“Yeah, rude. Stabbing’s rude.” 

“It’s not rude, it's funny.” 

He sounds so serious as he says it, causing you to snort and take another quick bite before swallowing hard and turning to face him. “I know that in your world it’s probably like… a super casual thing to just betray your brother and stab him in the gut, but like, we don’t do that here.”

“I didn’t stab him in the gut.”

“But you—“

“No, no, I stabbed him in the back.” 

“Okay, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s not okay to do that.”  

“Oh, I know.” 

“You know?” 

“Yes, of course I know, I’m a trickster, not a fool.”

For some reason that makes you laugh, your whole body bouncing as you lean back against the hood of your car and take another bite. “I guess I just don’t understand your thinking then,” you then say, angling your face so that it’s in line with his. 

“Most people don’t, to be honest.”

“How come?”

Shrugging his shoulders you watch as his face sort of falls, his eyes dimming down at the mention of misunderstanding, making you wonder if maybe that’s why he’s suddenly attached himself to you. At first, it didn’t make much sense —having this strange, borderline manic man you barely know suddenly insert himself into your life and all its wonderful problems. 

Based on your assumptions (and what others had told you) he’s always been a bit of a loner —the kind of guy who keeps to himself regardless of interest. Everyone assumes he’s this giant asshole. This… conceited God filled with resentment for what Earth did to him after the attack on New York. They think he’s angry and vengeful —too full of himself to accept the company of Earth’s inhabitants like his brother, which is why he acts out —why he never listens to the people he so desperately needs to right his wrongs. 

Based on your conversations though, you assume he acts the way he does because he’s just stubborn. Because maybe like you, he’s just awkward and mulish, unable to set aside his pride, even though all he wants is for people to like him —to see him and connect with him. 

Which makes you wonder if maybe that’s why he jumped at the chance to help you. Perhaps through your mess of tears and lack of regard for your emotions, he saw a bit of himself in you. Somewhere along the line, he connected with you, and now that you realize that you can’t help but wonder if somehow you’ll end up doing the same. 

Because already, despite the constant streamline of words that seem to fall from his lips, you can feel yourself growing fond of him. Sure, his presence is a bit much (bordering on unbearable when he puts his mind to pushing your buttons) but he’s nice. He’s nice and caring and funny and when you look over and see the sadness in his eyes it almost feels like your heart is breaking. Under the pressure of his stare, it’s cracking and you’re not entirely sure what to do other than to move closer to him, bumping your elbow with his as you offer him a smile to gain his attention. 

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” you say then, and before you know it his eyes are brightening and his lips are parting and suddenly there’s this light inside him that you know at that moment is reserved for you and you alone, so you continue.

“I lied earlier when I said I didn’t want to go to the wedding,” you tell him, and Loki raises his brow, the interest in your statement growing across his face. “I actually went to try and get that asshole back.” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought that I could,” you say with a shrug. “Which now that I think about it is kind of ridiculous.” 

“A bit yeah. So many options of revenge in the world and you chose the route of lust.”

Snorting, you move to set aside your ice cream before sort of rolling onto your side, watching as Loki does the same, both of you now facing each other completely.

“I should’ve just stabbed him like you did with Thor.” 

Laughing, he shakes his head. “As much as it pains me to encourage you not to do that, deep down know that I think it’s a brilliant idea.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” you muse, reaching over to grab another bite of ice cream. “You know, the night’s still young, maybe we should go back? I’m sure by now everyone would be too drunk to even notice. We could probably gut him pretty good.”

“Don’t tempt me darling, you know that I would.” 

Darling. God, why did he have to call you that? Literally of all the names in the world, why was darling the one he decided to choose? 

Just thinking about it makes your entire body melt, almost as if he’s used his magic to transform you into the ice cream sitting next to you, causing you to soften and mollify, your entire being suddenly malleable in his hands.

It makes you think about what you’d do to keep this going —this strange charade of strangers turned friends, subtly flirting with one another on top of a car that’s too old to be considered cool. You don’t want it to end yet. You don’t want to have to get in the car and drive him away only to be left alone again, broken and bored. 

At least not yet. 

“Hey, we should go for a drive,” you say and suddenly you’re sitting up and grabbing your ice cream, shovelling down the last few bites as you wander over to the garbage bin a couple of feet away. 

Following suit Loki sits up too, noticing the sudden pep in your step as you practically sprint back to the car with your hands shoved into the pocket of your dress, your face scrunched up in excited bliss as you step in front of the driver’s side door.

“A drive?” he asks and all you do is nod, unlocking the door before silently sliding in, watching from the corner of your eye as he does the same. 

“Yeah, we can blast some music and just go where the road takes us,” you say, hearing the click of his seatbelt go off before you reach around to grab your own, feeling your heart begin to race at the thought of doing something fun for once. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t take us off a cliff,” you hear Loki mumble and without even thinking you scoff and reach over to slap his arm. 

Before you can hit him though he grabs your wrist, tightening his fingers around the base ever so gently, causing both of you to look at the connection of your hands; the feeling of heat rising through your face once you realize that holy shit he’s touching you and oh my god he isn’t stopping. 

Because instead of letting go he merely stares, his gaze heavy and curious, almost as if he’s studying your hand as he slowly releases his grip and begins to slide his fingers along the base of your palm, exploring the skin until eventually, he laces his fingers in yours. Afterwards, he pulls your hand towards his lap, laying the base of his forearm against his thigh while keeping hold of you like it’s the most normal thing in the world, even though it’s not and suddenly you feel like you might pass out because who even does that? 

“I…. uh…” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you shuffle in your seat and blink, trying your best to avoid Loki’s gaze as you eventually just swallow hard, accepting your fate by awkwardly reaching around to shove your key into the ignition to start the car. 

As you do, Loki chuckles and thumbs the base of your index finger, moving the digit back and forth, feeling you shiver under his touch. “I can stop holding it if you want,” he says, even though secretly he hopes that you’ll say no because frankly he kind of likes the way it feels.

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s just—“

Feeling the struggle within your voice, Loki releases your hand, trying his best not to laugh again as you quickly place it onto the edge of the steering wheel, a look of pure embarrassment plastered across your face as you begin to back up the car. 

“If you didn’t want to hold my hand you could’ve just said so,” he says not long after, crossing his arms over his chest as he flashes you the kind of smug look that makes your hands sweat and your stomach twist.

“It’s not that, it’s just, I—” Unable to produce the words you hear floating through your head, you merely stop talking, knowing that no matter how hard you try your brain won’t willingly match up with your mouth, causing your heart to start to ache in the process, because deep down you do want to hold his hand. Weirdly enough, despite the little time that you’ve known him, you want to take his hand and grip it tight and maybe even pull him into your frame for a hug or a kiss or—

“It’s fine, darling, I’m used to rejection. Nobody wants the evil Asgardian prince.” Dramatically he places the back of his hand on his forehead, throwing his head back while closing his eyes. As he does you roll your own and turn onto the road, trying your best not to snort at his dramatics, wondering if he means it. 

You imagine that he partially does, given the track record of opinions people seem to have about him. Oftentimes their fondness is pretty scarce, especially considering that when he first joined the Avengers the talk around the office was anything, but nice. At the time you didn’t think much of it. Loki was nothing but a powerful God you’d never had to interact with. He didn’t feel tangible or real, even when you’d see images of him on the news or in person at Stark Industry events. To you he was merely just a person, living his life outside your own, trying his best to do the right thing, even if it meant suffering through the eyes of others. 

“Well, what if I want the evil prince?” 

Swallowing hard, you’re not sure if you regret your words as you drive through a set of yellowing lights, glancing over at him with raised brows, feeling your hand almost twitch at the sight of him, because you do want him. More than anything you’ve wanted before, you want to reach across your car and grab his hand and drive into the sunset without a map, all while telling him that everyone is stupid. 

So you do. 

Before he can respond either in agreement or protest, you lift your hand off the wheel and thread your fingers in his, feeling the way his grip immediately responds to yours by holding it tight and pulling it close to his torso as if it’s something he needs to protect. 

“I know we barely know each other; like literally I know nothing about you so this is probably weird, but like, I feel like we click, right?” 

You have no idea what you’re saying —what the words coming out of your mouth are trying to accomplish, but thankfully he seems to understand because not long after he sort of smiles, his eyes travelling from your hand to your face. 

“Click, yes,” he laughs, causing your heart to sort of swell because here he is still holding your hand and smiling despite the lack of audible sense you’re making. 

“I don’t know, I just… I like you, I think. You’re different. Not like in a bad way, but in an odd way where I don’t really know how to navigate where to go from here, because we kind of met in a weird way and—“

Snorting loudly, Loki cuts you off mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You know, I understand what I like you means, you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

Opening your mouth to respond, you quickly close it in favour of focusing on the road, knowing that if you don’t you’ll most likely get distracted and miss your turn-off.

-

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[scoutdoesstuff]

last but not least, august 31st fic features a crossover because why not.

sam and dean get to meet ted lasso. this one was hard to wrangle and definitely exceeded the word count and still wouldn't wrap up neatly haha but it was fun to write.

a chunk of this is inspired by a ted lasso fic i read awhile back that asked what it would look like if ted was a witch, given richmond's uncanny good luck.

our last flavor on this little journey is Purr-fectly Very Berry, a pun i haven't yet managed to work into this story.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Lasso?” Dean Winchester asks, bleeding profusely from the forehead.

“I think that ghosts need to believe in themselves,” Ted answers with great enthusiasm as he mops up the worst of the mess on Dean’s forehead and roots around for a bandage.

“Oh my god,” Sam Winchester says, horrified in the bitchiest possible way and braced against the locker room to keep it from opening under the poltergeist’s onslaught. “We’re gonna die.”

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

The one problem with being unbelievably tall is that people tend to notice you no matter where you go. It’s hard to go incognito when you’re literally a head taller — sometimes a head and shoulders taller — than the rest of the people around you.

“Do you think people are smaller here?” Sam asks as he and Dean size up the exterior of Richmond FC’s pitch. They’re eating ice cream cones in an attempt to look less conspicuous but the sheer force of the Americaness of their clothes probably undoes anything they try to blend in.

“Not the people,” Dean says around a chunk of his Cornetto, “doors. The doors are so fucking small here. And the cars? How do they move bodies in this town?”

“Huh, never thought of it like that,” Sam says.

“The club is locked down pretty tight,” Sam says, a little while later when they’re back in their weirdly damp hotel room, with his laptop perched on his knees.

“Probably due to the owner being stalked within an inch of her life by the paps,” Dean sighs, cutting out fake press passes.

“Yeah, can’t blame her for that one.”

“Her ex is such a fucking creep.”

“God, right?”

“Anyway,” they both say at the same time rather than admit they’d both spent several hours on the local gossip rags.

“Think you can pass as a sports journalist?” Dean asks, chucking a fake press pass at Sam.

“I’ve done weirder,” Sam replies, snapping his laptop shut.

SIX HOURS EARLIER

The initial plan had been to sneak into Richmond’s club house during a game. It’s easier to pretend to be a member of the cleaning crew, check for ghost weirdness or hex bags, and then get the fuck out when there’s a crowd to blend into at the end of the job. They’d set up their schedule, haggled their way into some tickets from a local hunter, and were set to handle whatever was upsetting the general vibes over at Richmond FC as a favor to Bobby right up until three fans suffered simultaneous heart attacks while watching a friendly between Richmond and another team.

Then the next Richmond match got cancelled out of a sense of respect or something painfully British which eighty sixed their whole fucking plan.

They’d had to improvise and the best they could do was as a weird American soccer fanboy journalist looking to get an exclusive interview with the Rebecca Walton and Dean just … sneaking in.

“I can’t believe this is the best we’ve got,” Sam had muttered on the way in, smashed into their too small British car.

“If I get caught, we pretend I’m your photographer that you forgot to mention,” Dean had said, smiling from ear to ear. He’d missed clean and simple B&E’s. Those were the best.

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

Turns out Dean didn’t need to break in. The head coach just fucking let him walk in the door.

“You seem like a sunny young man!” The guy says when he catches Dean skulking around the back parking lot. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

It’s been a really long time since Dean hasn’t had anything to say back to someone. What do you even say to that? How does this guy grow a mustache like that in 2022?

“I don’t know if I’m much of a tea drinker?” Dean means to make it a statement but it comes out a question.

“Neither am I,” the mustached man replies, beaming. “I have secret coffee in my office!”

Dean could go for some American coffee. This is probably a trap, but Dean wants American style black coffee too badly at this point to care.

(Espresso is good, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes you just want something that feels like home).

Sam isn’t expecting to find someone like Rebecca Welton relatable, but he knows what it looks like when you’ve spent a considerable amount of time developing a considerable amount of control over yourself and your environment. They have nothing in common, but there are a few moments here and there where it feels like he’s looking in a mirror.

“So how does an American find himself interested in football?” she asks as they settle into her office. Her hair is perfectly coiffed. Her clothes are remarkably pressed.

“Uh, I have to admit that we call it soccer on my side of the pond,” Sam says, playing for time. She laughs obligingly. Sam can’t pretend to care about sports so he flips the question back at her. “What made you fall in love with football, Ms. Welton?”

She smiles obligingly again. And they’re off. Fluffy question meet fluffy answer. Rinse, wash, repeat.

TWO HOURS EARLIER

“It’s like my memaw used to say — all in the butter, you know?”

“Exactly! People don’t respect how fucking important the butter is! Is the European stuff here really as good as they say?”

“It is!”

They really should’ve been caught or at least called out a few hours ago when Rebecca and Ted had decided to reconnoiter for lunch and brought Sam and Dean along for the ride. Instead, they’d bought their bullshit about how Dean was Sam’s photographer. Now, Dean and Ted Lasso, head coach of the somehow not terrible Richmond FC, were having a heart to heart about baking.

Their lives were so fucking weird.

Sam gives in and asks Rebecca if she plays any strategy games.

They play chess while Dean and Ted yell about the differences of jam and jelly.

ONE HOUR EARLIER

The lights flicker violently.

“Oh, there’s Marvin!” Ted says.

“Marvin?” Dean glances over at Sam. Sam shrugs. That hadn’t come up in the interview at all.

“He’s named the poltergeist,” Rebecca explains.

“He’s named the what?” Sam and Dean say together, with rising alarm.

“He does that,” Beard says, speaking for the first time in about an hour and half, eyes not moving from his newspaper. He’d introduced himself to Sam and Dean and then somehow maneuvered his chair so that he’d become one with the farthest corner of the room. “You get used to it. Or you don’t.”

“He’s our poltergeist. I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for?” Ted sets down his mug and opens up a window that somehow looks out to another room. “He likes to have the window open when he does his little fly bys,” Ted explains with a wave of his hand after turning around to see Dean and Sam staring at him. “You guys are hunters, right?”

All Sam and Dean can do is nod, shell shocked, at this point.

“And you’re hear about the heart attack victims?”

Sam and Dean nod again.

“Great! Is there anything we do to help you with the whole great white whale hunt?”

“I’m sorry —“ Sam starts.

“Hold the fuck up —“ Dean continues.

“You knew? The whole time?” The both finish.

“Oh yeah, we just wanted you guys to feel like you had to full experience. I know the infiltration and costumes part is really important to the whole shebang — or at least that’s what my Ma told me when she was telling me to avoid you guys,” Ted says, beaming.

“You mother told you to avoid us?” Sam asks, eyebrows condensed into a unibrow of confusion.

“Oh! Not you you,” Ted says, quickly like he was worried he’d hurt Sam and Dean’s feelings. “Just hunters in general.”

“Why?” The Brothers Winchester ask slowly in union.

“Oh! I’m a witch,” Ted clarifies.

The lights go out.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.

Part 2.

Avengers x fem!reader 

Pt.1

Words: 1892

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Main Masterlist 

Maria and Fury bring you to The Avengers tower for mission briefing and meet the rest of the team. To be honest, you are beyond excited you see the building. You move from your seat to another, looking out of the window, facing the tower. Maria looks at you at the rear view mirror, seeing your awe face and smile. “If you open that window, I might’ve mistaken you with a dog.” You ignore her comment and ask them “Is this S.H.I.E.L.D? You guys work here? You build this place papa Bear? This is taller than I thought it would be!”

Fury look at you and then Maria “Now she’s excited.” Maria answer your question. “That is Avengers tower. S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exist. Burn to the ground.” You didn’t keep up about them after left the agency so you don’t know what happened. “What happened? Did this moody papa Bear show his emotion through action?” You let out a small laugh until Fury annoyed “Once again you call my name other than Fury, I’ll burn you too.” “Nahh, you’re not going to burn me. You need me. Otherwise, I’m not in this car right now. I said to him and Maria drive through the parking basement. “She got you, boss.”

Fury walk ahead to their meeting room. You stop your track when you see an aquarium placed at the wall. You never see something like that before in your life. When Maria realize that you are not walking behind her, she turns back to get you. “What are you doing?” “Looking at these fish in an aquarium stuck on the wall. How they do that? How they going to feed the fish? Rich people shit, quite awesome.” You said and Maria just shake her head. “We have a world crisis and the first thing you did is watch the fish?! Are you kidding me? Let’s go meat the team.”

 Meanwhile Fury already told the team about a new protocol or whatever. You didn’t hear that clearly until you are inside the room. Fury talk to them. “Since all of you are here, including Maximoff, I have a new protocol that you can use.” Steve looking confusing at Fury. “We already made a plan.” Tony interrupt to teasing Steve “Yeah and a good ted talk by the captain too.” Natasha asking about the protocol. “Do we know about the protocol?” Fury take a seat “No, Romanoff. No one knows about this protocol except Agent Hill. This protocol was created to help the team when in need, and this team clearly need it right now.” Steve ask him. “What protocol is that?” Natasha looking at Clint and he shrug. “B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.” Tony just laugh while Steve have a serious face looking at him. “I’m sorry. That’s kinda funny name for a protocol.” Maria open the door and you both going in. All eyes on you and you feeling slightly nervous. How can you not, they are The Avengers! You recognize all of their face except one person wearing black dress and red cardigan.  

Fury introduce you to the team. “Right on time. Avengers, I introduce you B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL, as in Best Associate By Yours truly.” Maria added “Also, we call her Baby.” They are quiet and shock appear in their faces except two people. Natasha and Clint. They go greet you. “Baby!” Natasha walks to hug you while Tony look at you two weird. “Nat! Omg, I miss you. Clint! Miss you too!” You hug Clint and he hold your head. “Well, she grows up.” “Yeah, with some food and water, I did. Man, you’re old.” You said to him and Natasha smile “Kids growing, Barton.” “Natasha, beautiful as always. You have to drop your skin care routine, sis.” Tony interrupt the moment “You both knew her? Fury, you said no one know about this protocol.” Fury nods. “I said no one know about this protocol not that Romanoff and Barton didn’t know her.”

Steve starts asking question. “How old are you?” Tony interject again. “Yeah. You don’t look like a baby to me.”

             You looking back at Steve, smirk on your face. “How old are you?” Maria sign you to behave. “Baby.” Tony sit down at one of the chair. “I like this kid already!” He earns a glare from Steve and you apologizing “I’m sorry. That’s not a good first impression. I’m 22.”

“What is your name?” Damn he is a serious one.

             “People call me Baby.”

“What people didn’t call you?”

             “If they didn’t call me? Silence, I guess.” You whisper at Natasha left ear “Can I not tell them my name?” She crooks a little smile. “It’s up to you.” “I prefer being call by that name that Maria & Fury has told you or anything you want except my real name due to personal reason.” You nod and smile at them.

“Why? Dark past? Major criminal? Wanted by CIA? Interpol? MI6? Ugly name? Kicked out of family or something?” Seriously, how can they work as a team with a guy name Tony Stark? Maria, Natasha and Clint have your back.

“She’s here to help us. Nothing else, Stark.” Maria said to him.

Natasha glare at him. “I suggest you stop right there or you’re not going to see any sunlight.”

Clint agree with them. “Leave her alone man.” Tony look guilty. “Everybody in this room has dark past. I’m just curious, not judging. She’s not alone.” Wanda tell them that he told the truth. “He’s not lying.” “Thank you Wendy. Peace?” You walking toward him “No heart feeling.” You guys fist bump each other.

Steve ask again. “How do you know Barton and Romanoff?”

             “While I was in S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, which I thought a Juvenile school at first, they trained me combat espionage. Since that’s the only thing on my expertise. I wish to have Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz brain though. They’re genius in bio-chem and engerneering.”

“Why you thought it was juvenile at first? You commit crime?”

             “Duh.” Both you and Tony said it at the same time and again “JINX!” Natasha look at Steve. “Relax captain, all of us commit crime back then.” “I didn’t” Tony look at him. “Are you sure about that?” “What do you mean Stark?” Steve ask and he say “You literally cheated your medical checkup to join the army.” “I did it to protect our country.” Steve said and Clint chuckle “Still crime.” Fury tell Maria to handle the briefing and he’s out. You ask where is he going? “Where is he going?” “He have another thing to do Baby.”

             “I know most of you but I don’t think I know or seen you, Mr. ?” You ask and Natasha introduce him. “That is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

             You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. What did you do?”

Bruce seems like to hesitate to answer that. “You didn’t know? New York?”

             “Alien? Chitauri?” You ask him back innocently.

“Um. I’m, the big green guy.” He anxiously answers that.

             “An ogre! Wow, that is so cool!” Clint hold my shoulder. “The other green, buddy.” “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I forgot your ogre name is Shrek. Still cool though. I watch all of his movies when I was a kid. Maybe we can watch it again sometimes.”

Bruce look at Natasha and then back at you. “That’s, not me either, but yeah, we can watch that, big green cartoon sometimes.” Tony finally tell you who he is. “You seriously don’t remember who broke New York kid? He’s The Hulk!” Bruce looks down and tilt his head to look at Tony. “Yes. I’m that! Thank you for bringing back memory, Tony!”

             You feel guilty for not remember that. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. But hey, New York already broken before you broke it. Can I have a selfie? You’re incredible.” You snap the picture before he even answers. Tony said something “I’m literally right here. The coolest guy in the group.” You turn your head to the girl in black dress, red cardigan. “And you are?”

She answers with a thick accent “Wanda Maximoff.”

             “You’re not from here? You have an accent just like Nat. Well, once she’s mad at me during training years ago.” You remember the detail and Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “That is one time. I slipped.” “Human make mistakes sis. You aren’t machine.”

“I just got here yesterday. I made a mistake. Wrong judgement, I want to make it right. I join them.” She explains and you currently melting, just to hear he talk. You want her to talk more so you can hear her talk. Thing is, you didn’t know that she can read mind. Where is that accent came from? Russian? You ask those questions in your head. “From Sokovia.”

             “Where are you from? What? I just ask-“

Maria answer my question. “She’s a telekinesis, energy manipulation and some kind of neuroelectric interfacing.” “Huh?” You don’t even know what that is and Maria make it simple for you. “Telepathic.” You turn to look back at her. “That is so awesome!” Tony huff at your statement. “Yeah, until she’s in your head.” She just looking down “I’m sorry.”

 Right after she said that, Thor, God of Thunder walk into the room and tell about the scepter. You are amazed and suddenly you bend the knee. “Oh. My. God. You’re Thor!” He looks back at you. “and you tiny female human.” “You. Are. the God of Lightning! I am a fan! No. I’m an air-conditioner.” He smiling, feeling proud. “Thank you, tiny human lady. It’s God of Thunder, actually. What’s an air-conditioner?”

Maria gives us final brief. “You guys might want to prepare something for tomorrow. We’re flying to Korea and find Dr. Chow tomorrow morning. Get some rest, sleep early, you guys need it.”

             You ask them a question. “Can I go back to my place, then come back? Clint can you take me?” “Yeah, I can.” Steve kind of not agree with you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why? I need to take my stuff.” “I can pick her up tomorrow.” You and Clint said and Steve ask you again. “Do you have a suit? or uniform?” You unzip your sweater and show your Donut Do It uniform. “Will, this do? Because someone decided that it was okay to give a surprise visit when I’m on my way to work.” Maria just smirking at you and Natasha smile “I don’t think that appropriate gear for the field.”

Tony offers you to stay with them at the tower. “Captain’s right. Don’t want to risk anything on the team member night before fight. Stay here, I’ve got plenty of room. Natasha can show you. They basically live here. We have spare shirts too.” You look at Wanda “You live here too?” She’s thinking about the answer. “I spend the night here.” Natasha turn you to look at her. “That’s a good idea. Just stay here tonight. Wanda’s here too.” “Natasha can show you your room, take a shower and dinner later.” Tony said. You look at Maria by the mention of dinner. She sighs “Okay, spaghetti and chicken wings.” Natasha add “And caramel pudding?” You smile at her “You remember?!” “Of course I do.” Clint jokingly say “How can she not, you guys practically sisters.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for spending your time reading this. Feel free to reblog or ask me anything, thank you in advance!

Part 3 is coming!

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x5 Thoughts

I loved this episode.

I loved that rom-com plotlines (and actual lines!) became the vehicle for Ted to bring Roy back into football—not just as a pundit or observer from the outside, but as someone who can influence the game. I feel kind of unexpectedly emotional thinking about how Ted (and Beard, and even Nate) will teach Roy how to become a coach, and thinking about all the skills Roy will bring to the table that aren’t currently represented in the coaching staff.

My favorite thing about this episode is how complicated each person’s motivations were. You’ve got people doing the right thing for the right reasons, the right thing for the wrong reasons, the wrong thing for the right reasons, and...I actually don’t think anyone was doing the wrong thing for the wrong reasons, but maybe?

Rebecca is putting herself out there on the dating apps, being brave and stepping outside of her comfort zone, but she seems unable to take Higgins’ advice to be herself because she doesn’t really know who she is in this realm of her life. I think it’s handled pretty lovingly—like, we’re supposed to have fun with her little moments of laughter and panic with the apps, but there are very real reasons why she isn’t sure of herself, and I think the nuance is there.

Keeley is so wrapped up in becoming a competent marketing director and growing her career skills that she misses some opportunities to talk to Rebecca about the human side of using apps to look for love. When Keeley found love with Roy, it wasn’t because she was great at personal branding; it’s because she and Roy recognized something in each other. In fact, all of Keeley’s major relationships on the show, including her friendship with Rebecca, have started organically and offline. Keeley is probably the most successful character on the show when it comes to maintaining solid relationships with the people she cares about, so I think it’s significant that she’s also the character pushing a more artificial way to connect to people because she’s desperate to grow her professional brand.

Nathan is receptive to the lessons about assertiveness but not yet fully understanding that he’s not going to be satisfied by external sources of respect, or by the markers of prestige and an impressive social network, if he’s not satisfied with himself. He’s grown a lot in that he can recognize that he wants to be treated better, but he’s swinging on a pendulum between his deferential, self-deprecating behavior and bullying behavior that causes him to yell and lash out at anyone who has less power than him.

Keeley and Rebecca don’t seem to recognize the way that racism and other prejudices, as well as not having a supportive father (something many of the other male characters can relate to), are factors in Nate’s experiences. They genuinely want to help him, and they do, but their POV is limited.

In creating a place for Roy on the coaching staff, Ted is doing something that’s going to be awesome for Roy, awesome for him, and that will almost certainly be ultimately good for the team and for the other coaches, too. But he’s making these decisions from a very insular place without articulating himself as thoughtfully as he typically would, and at least part of his motivation in connecting Roy to Isaac is because he is still mistrustful of therapy and wants to figure things out without just referring Isaac to Sharon.

Things I Loved:

Mr. Higgins hugging Mrs. Higgins in the tunnel! Their love! Their enduring commitment! Ahhhhh!

How HAPPY Ted seemed when things started to click for Isaac out on the pitch during the pickup game. Also it was so nice that he and Roy finally got to talk to each other.

Beard. Everything about Beard. The suggestion that Beard and Ted are talking, but maybe not about the most important things. British owls.

The moment between Ted and Sharon just before the match. The way she so brilliantly leaves the door open, metaphorically speaking, and metaphor-loving Ted turns it into a literal joke about doors.

The romantic comedy energy of Ted realizing Roy is on the field ready to become a coach. Ted/Roy/Lady Football. Also, Ted really likes coaching football (soccer) and I love that for him!

This might be unpopular but I really like how all the dating app stuff just feels like breeding ground for decoys and misplaced expectations and disappointments and fleeting passions. Ted’s extremely fallible yet heartfelt rom-communism speech reinforces this, practically in a direct address to the audience: you might think you know these plots, but things aren’t necessarily going to come together (at least not right now) the way you assume, and that’s okay. (The question of whether it will actually be okay for Ted is another story, but hey, he’s got the spirit!) These characters are on such disjointed, individual, private journeys right now, and I don’t feel bothered by being manipulated by the mysteries of who is messaging who, etc. because I feel like the writing is very loudly saying “we’re calling back to a really lovely but really manipulative genre, and playing with it, so buckle up y’all!”

I might have more thoughts (I will definitely have more thoughts, whether or not they go here), but I really wanted to try to get my own perspective out of my brain before absorbing too many other thoughts about this episode in particular.

[gottagobackintime]

god I love that "he sounds like a cool guy" and both their smiles with ted and trent's dad making the same joke it's just......trent's vibes of I want to introduce this man to my parents and everyone I know they'd love him so much I'm so in love with him. it's one of those lines that just has you speedrunning the relationship in your head. "he sounds like a cool guy" "so the caribbean or the maldives for our honeymoon?"

This is so very accurate! He's like "Yup that's the one, I think we'll have a spring wedding." And he never looked back.

I think about that scene a lot, like the whole scene and I can't get over how much it feels like a new beginning for the couple in a rom-com, if you know what I mean.

We've just had the inevitable betrayal of trust which breaks the couple apart, separates them (Trent's article)

The one who was betrayed is hurt but they still clearly care about the other person (Ted goes from being happy when he sees that Trent is texting him to sad. But then he still defends Trent when Keeley calls him a dick)

One of them realises that they miss the other one (Ted stops talking and is clearly upset that Trent isn't there, and confirms that he was worried that Trent had been in an accident)

The person who did the betrayal (Trent) makes a grand gesture (gets himself fired, like, he doesn't just quit, he makes sure that he's fired) and goes to find their love interest to tell them (he stands waiting for Ted outside the club). The love interest is surprised by the grand gesture (see below)

They start to patch things up, finding their way back to each other (Ted initiates the "Trent Crimm. Independent" joke and Trent finishes it, Ted has previously repeatedly joked with Trent in the press room, especially about Trent's "Trent Crimm, The Independent" thing, it's their thing)

They ignite the hope that they'll get back together one day (Ted says that he hopes their paths will cross again soon, Trent agrees and says that he loves Ted their chats, which is a callback to a previous milestone in their relationship)

One of them tries to take things further, for them to get closer again (Trent offers Ted a ride) but the hurt person isn't quite ready yet (Ted declines, but says he appreciates the offer)

One of them isn't ready for the other person to leave yet, so they call them back (Trent stops Ted and makes him turn around by saying his name and then wishing him good luck next season)

One of them then watches as the other person leaves (Trent looks at Ted even after Ted has turned his back to him and has started walking away)

And to put the com in rom-com, one of them does something silly/stupid because of their love for the other character (Trent misses the door handle to his car because he's still looking at Ted and then he realises that he's locked the keys in his car when he got out to look cool while waiting for Ted)

And don't get me started on season three, which is of course the continuation of their rom-com. Them being happy and excited to see each other again after they've spent time apart, Ted showing Trent that he's ready to let him back in properly by allowing him to write the book about the team. Ted "defending" Trent against Roy, Trent running after Ted to excitedly tell him that he believes in his tactic and so on.

So, um, this answer got away from me. Sorry about that. I just have a lot of feelings about this scene...

[monsterfuneral]

sparks in the rain | bill and ted | ch. 2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Coming Soon

Relationship: Poly!Bill and Ted x Fem!Reader

Summary: A malfunction with the booth lands Bill and Ted into the most peculiar situation they’ve been in, stuck in the year 2021 standing in front of a woman they never thought they’d meet. 

Words: 1.5

Warnings/Tags: nothing

Author’s Note: After like actually outlining this a little more, I think this story will end up being one of my favorites I’ve written.

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

This was the most unusual day for both Bill and Ted. Sure they had experienced mishaps with the booth, and sure they had also met people that they vaguely knew about. But they had never met someone that knew about them. Especially when it came to an on screen babe like Armageddon Lady, who had totally been Bill’s biggest crush for a majority of his teenage years. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Ted though. And here she was in the weirdest of coincidences, standing right in front of them. 

“What?” Ted asked dumbly as he heard the girl in front of them blurt their names. His brain struggled to keep up with the situation. 

“Dude she totally knows who we are somehow!” Bill said with an almost starstruck look on his face, his eyes sparkling in amazement. 

You stayed silent though, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth agape as you, like Ted, tried to process what you was going on. While running into celebrities in the middle of your apartment complex was one thing that would never happen, seeing two movie characters that you liked standing just seven feet away from you was next to impossible… No it was impossible. 

You had to be dreaming still. A very vivid dream where you were going to the crafts store to pick up a new set of markers, before suddenly running into Bill and Ted of all people... In a dream. There was literally no other logical explanation. 

“Woah, you look like you’re going to hurl, Miss. Armageddon Lady, dude- babe.” Bill stumbled on his words like a nervous child talking to his first crush. Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth. 

“I- This isn’t real.” You concluded, finally removing your hand from inside of your purse and straightening your back. You were almost tempted to just turn around and walk back into your apartment, but you didn’t. Instead you thought over the jumbled words Bill had said to you, something sticking out more than anything else. “Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, your brows drawing together as you looked at the blonde for answers who looked at you with widened eyes. 

Ted suddenly remembered something Rufus had told them not too long ago, alternative universes and whatnot, where things are different from their world but can also connect somehow. He talked about how sometimes the booth can malfunction and send them rocking into another circuit without them even noticing. That’s probably how they ended up here! 

“Bill... I don’t think we’re in our world anymore.” Ted chimed before Bill could even attempt to come up with a sufficient answer that would satisfy you. 

“What?” Bill asked, looking up at Ted. 

“Yeah! Remember the thing Rufus told us a few months back?” 

“Don’t over-tighten the guitar strings because they could break?” Bill answered, bringing up an entirely different conversation they had with Rufus. 

Ted shook his head looking behind his shoulder and to the still sparking booth “No dude! The whole alternate dimension thingy.” 

“OH YEAH!” 

You watched the both of them converse, your own brain still trying to catch up with the bizarre situation, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. You tried pinching your arm a few times, at least testing it out to see if that trick even worked, but you were still standing in the same place right in front of them. It was all so much to process at once and so early in the day, even though it may have been 11am, it was still too much. 

“So you really didn’t put in the wrong number then.” 

“I told you so Bill!” 

They paused, smiling at each other before both shouting “Excellent!” in unison before air guitaring. The action was all too familiar but unfortunately missed the overlapping guitar that would play when they did it. Both boys stared at each other for a second afterwards, beaming smiles still ontheir faces. Their stare lasted a beat longer than you were used to seeing on screen. 

A shiver wracked through your body, the jacket you had not shielding you from the cold that the rain brought like you had hoped it would. You clutched your arms, pulling them a little tighter to your chest. It only continued to solidify the fact that this was probably real and not a dream at all, like you had thought. I mean, sure you had considered the possibility of fictional universes being real, who hasn’t? But it was just a theory you played into half-heartedly but never considered it to actually be true. 

A hand waved in front of your face, jolting from your deep train of thought where everything you previously thought was impossible could be and it was just too much. Reality as you knew it was both expanding and collapsing all at the same time. 

“You good, other dimension babe?” Bill asked, a small smile on his face as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Ted tilted his head as he watched you curiously. Sure you looked like Armageddon Lady and her actress, but you were neither, you just looked like them. He had an easier time accepting this as a reality than you did though, already having his experience with the impossible. But you looked like you were about to explode from the overload of information. He felt sympathetic. He thought back to a conversation he had with Rufus a year after their first time traveling in the booth, remembering how Rufus told him how he had seen others cope with the discovery of time travel, how some people just could not handle the information and it literally drove them to insanity. Ted would feel like such a dick if that happened to you, even if he didn’t know you. 

“I-” You started, abruptly stopping as you tried to piece your words together “I think so?” You clutched the strap to your purse a little harder, blunt nails digging into the leather slightly “This is all just… A lot to process.” 

“That’s okay!” Ted reassured softly with a wide grin, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly as he nodded and looked down at Bill who was also nodding along. 

Your fingers were starting to feel numb and you shifted on your feet for the first time since you were stopped in your tracks. Your knees felt stiff from not moving for so long and you were shaking a lot more than you thought, the cold starting to deep into your bones and making your teeth chatter. You were sure they weren’t feeling any better as they were both wearing short sleeved shirts, and Bill was wearing a crop top. 

“I know you guys don’t know me but it’s freezing out here and it’s supposed to get colder.” You said looking back at your apartment door, trying to draw your coat closer around you “Would you like to come inside? I can make some coffee-” You watched Bill pull a face at the mention of the bitter beverage “Or some hot chocolate, up to you.” 

“Sounds great.” Ted answered, glancing behind him once more at the booth before back at you, “Lead the way!” 

The warmth of your apartment was more welcoming than the quickly dropping temperature outside. The rain clouds had left the sky dark and your living room was close to being pitch black. You carefully maneuvered past the couch and over the bean bags that were carelessly strewn across the floor in front of the TV stand. You felt for the pull-chain underneath the lamp shade, the black tassels tickling against your forearm. Finally your fingers grasped around the thin chain, gently yanking it and letting the light finally fill most of the room. The large leg lamp glowed on the small table tucked in the corner of your living room. A lovely gag gift you had been rewarded on christmas a year or two before at a friend’s party. While A Christmas Story was very much an overplayed movie on the holiday’s and certainly not your favorite, you still enjoyed the gift. Finding it pretty cool that someone had gone through the effort of getting something like this as the winner’s gift.

“Woah...” One of the boy’s muttered from behind your couch. You turned around and gave them a small smile, walking over to the other side of the living room to turn on the other lamp so the room was fully lit up and you weren’t going to trip over your own feet by accident. 

“Pretty neat huh?” You asked, always finding people’s reactions to the infamous lamp rather funny.

They both looked at you simultaneously, their eyes sparkling in wonder.

“You’re so cool…” Ted whispered. 

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to push down the heat that had suddenly started to rise up your neck, to your cheeks, and finally finishing at your ears. Never in your life did you think you could be receiving praise from Ted Theodore Logan himself. This really felt like it was too good to be true. 

“Thanks.” You replied, turning your back to them so they didn’t catch on to your flustered state. “So, how about that hot chocolate?” You asked, walking over to the white cabinet that held your collection of mugs.

[sweeethinny]

FIC COLLECTION

 First of all, I'd like to say that here are all my fics - at least the ones that I tagged correctly and managed to find - and since there are many, I had to put them all bellow the cut, I hope it gets better this way :) 

The fanfics with ** in front, are fanfics that I wrote recently

HP HEADCANON

HAPPY HOUR - HBP MISSING MOMENTS: One of Hinny's happy hours during HBP (T)

THE LAST MOMENT: What happened the day before Harry left - for the last time - with Dumbledore (M)

CHRISTMAS MAGIC: It's Hinny's first Christmas after the Battle, and they find a different way to celebrate (M) AO3

WHERE’S HARRY AND GINNY? :  Harry and Ginny have spent some time away, so when they finally have time alone, they enjoy it until the last moment. (M) AO3

**LAST NAME:  ‘I will be Mrs. Potter finally. You will no longer be the only Potter in the world. How do you feel about that? Ready to share your last name?’ (T) AO3

LAZY DAY: It's just a lazy day at the Potter house (G) 

**PETITE:  'I read in a gossip newspaper that said that you are too big for me.’ (G)

THROUGH OTHER EYES: We see them... but through other eye (T)

COMFORT: Harry was never hugged or comforted after a nightmare, so when one of the children asks for it, he doesn't quite know what to do. (G)

GREEN EYES: Ginny always wondered what was behind those green eyes. (G)

SUCCUMBING: Harry can't get his beautiful and creative wife out of his mind. (M)

THE FIRST TIME OF THREE: How Harry found out he was going to be a dad. for the first time (G) THE SECOND TIME OF THREE: How Harry found out he would be a father a second time (G) THE THIRD TIME OF THREE:  How Harry found out he would be a father a third time (G) AO3

TELLING THE NEWS: Harry knows that now more than anything, he cannot die, not when he will become a father, and for that, he needs to tell Ron the news (G)

GIN-GIN IS THE BEST: Gin-Gin is the best godmother Teddy could have (T)

THE FIRST POTTER:  The first - of three - Potter babies to be born! (T)

**SKIN: Harry wanted to be able to show Ginny, through his eyes, how beautiful she is, and how all this insecurity with her body after giving birth to James is not necessary. Since he cannot do this, he tries in other ways. (T) AO3

**FEAR: 'Doesn’t it bother you?’ Ginny looked at him. 'Doesn’t it bother you to think that… that the world is so big and everything is so much bigger than James? That we are like two giants to him? Our garden must seem infinite through his eyes.’ (G)

JAMES AND HIS 15TH MONTH BIRTHDAY: Ginny is distraught when she realizes that her son will be 15 months old. The same age when Harry became an orphan (T)

THERE’S STILL A LOT OF SPACE: James Sirius is growing up, and Ginny wonders if there is still room for her, in his heart (G) (FLUFFFFF)

JAMES’S SICK: James is sick, and this is disturbing Harry's peace (G)

**GOLDEN DRESS:  'I feel like today is going to be different,’ Ginny promised, holding Harry’s hand and making him look at her. ‘And maybe we can do everything you wanted to do when you saw me in the gold dress for the first time?’ (T)

DEVIL IN DISGUISE: Ginny talks like an angel, walks like an angel, and acts like an angel. But Harry knows that she is the Devil in Disguise (T)

HARRY'S PROMOTION: “You know that if I’m getting this promotion, it’s thanks to you, don’t you?” (T)

**DISNEY: Draco and Astoria go to Disneyland, and Draco proves to be a man who doesn't like roller coasters (G) AO3

**THE COUPLE OF THE YEAR:  The two were arm in arm, walking in silence like two kings, without even seeming to notice that everyone stopped to watch them pass (G)

HAPPY B-DAY GINNY POTTER:  On Ginny's 39th birthday, she couldn't be happier to be alive. (G)

HARRY’S PENSIEVE: James S. travels through his father's saddest memories (T) (TRIGGERS FOR: DEPRESSION, DEATH, BLOOD, SELF-MUTILATION)

HARRY IT’S SUCH A GOOD FATHER: Harry can’t say no to his children, especially when they are bored (G)

MOM’S ADVICE: James has questions to ask, and who better than his mother to help him? (G) (cofcof my favorite by far cofcof)

BECAUSE IT’S THE GODFATHER’S JOB: Ron has a mission as a godfather, and he couldn't leave his godson helpless (T) PART II

I MUST NOT TELL LIES: Just a normal Potter day, when Lily Luna asked about Harry’s scar (G)

THE WORST / BEST BIRTHDAY: Some things have changed since he was 12 and lived with the Dursleys. Harry now has a family, and birthdays are not so lonely anymore (G) AO3

**INTIMATE PROBLEMS:  ‘Harry.’ Teddy cried when Harry opened the door to their room, still wearing his pajamas and looking sleepy. If it weren’t for the look of panic, he would have thought the boy was sleeping on his feet. ‘My balls hurt.’ (T)

TEDDY IS DISCOVERED: Bill can be an understanding and calm guy ... but that doesn’t include when his daughter is with someone hiding in the room (ted x victorie) (T)

HARRY IS THE BEST FATHER: Moments in the life of James and Harry, where Harry proved to be the best father (T)

STILL INTO YOU:  Some things just  make sense, and even after all this time I'm into you... Baby not a day goes by that I'm not into you (M)

ADVICES: James Sirius makes an urgent call with his father; he needs loving advice. (G) AO3

**MISTLETOE: How could he find his best friend beautiful? How was he capable of that? (G) (James Sirius x OC)

**I’M SORRY:  Mira was one of those fall that was worth it. (G) (James Sirius x OC)

**NO, I DON'T WANNA FALL IN LOVE: James Sirius faces his first broken heart (T) (James Sirius x OC)

**BAD NEWS: 'What happened?’ James asked.'The worst.’ Teddy said. ‘Vic is pregnant’ (T)

**KISSES: It felt so good to kiss him. Mira had already kissed other boys, and girls, but there was something about James that made him much better than everyone else (T) (James Sirius x OC)

JAMES IS DATING part 1 | 2:  “James is dating.” Harry said, no longer holding on to the secret, remembering non-stop the scene of his son kissing the blonde warmly, in the back of their house. (T) AO3

I’M SORRY  (Drastoria with a bit of Potters): Draco would do anything to see his son happy, even to apologize to ... someone. (G) (PART II)

GRADES: They are not at home when the bird arrives with James’ OWL grades.orJames Sirius is concerned about his future and the parents’ reaction to his idea (G) AO3

A PROTECTIVE FATHER: Harry is a concerned father, and when James decides to go to a party, he begins to doubt that that is the best option. (T)

ALBUS CAME OUT - PART I:  Albus has something to say to James. Or, the one where Albus comes out gay to his brother and they have a conversation about it (T)

**BROTHERS: Albus and James' relationship over the years (T)

PLEEEASE?: Lily Luna just wants to be with his older brother and his 'cool' friends. Who could judge her? (G)

**INSECURITIES AND LONELINESS:  Lily faces problems on her first year, problems that Ginny knows very well and knows that she will need to talk about - almost - everything about her own first year. Things are almost never easy in the beginning.(T) AO3

--------------------------------

HP AU

**JUST FRIENDS:  'Have you never been curious to know if you kiss well? Or if kissing a boy is different from kissing a girl?’  (T) (James x Sirius) AO3

EVEN AFTER THE END: They were alive. Right here, with Harry. Even after the end. (T)

IT’S CHRISTMAS!: It's Christmas and Harry can finally win the special gift that James kept so dearly (G)

**MUM: ‘Place your hand in mine,’ Lily said softly, ‘please hold my hand.’ (T) AO3

SIRIUS IS IN LOVE: "Do you always look at others like that?" (G)

NOBODY BUT YOU: For Sirius, at that moment, nothing the world exists but Hestia (M) 

ALL ABOUT LOVE (SIRIUS X HESTIA): Sirius is this guy that everyone thinks kisses everyone, when in fact he is much more reserved and is afraid to connect with people. But then, when he starts going out with Hestia, he feels the happiest guy for the first time in ages (T)

DRUNK IN LOVE: ‘’I’m going to declare myself to her!’’ “You are drunk!”  “Is there a better time than now?’’ (Jily + Sirius x Hestia) (T)

**ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS:  'I was the one who told him to be the secret keeper.’ Sirius sighed, his eyes watering, hugging her back and this time he hid his face in her chest. 'If they had died… Because of me.’ (Hestia x Sirius) (M)

BETTER THAN FIREWHISKY: What if Harry had realized that he loved Ginny in book five? (T)

FINALLY ALONE:  ’You’re a big mama’s boy, aren’t you?“ She laughed. ‘’Lily taught you the rules well, thankfully you have me and I’m more than willing to distort you.’ (T)

TRICK OR TREAT, SWEETIE? : Halloween Special - Hinny faces a very unusual - and scary - situation on the night of the 31st (T)

WE WERE LISTENING TO THE WEEKND AND I HAD TO ASK YOU TO MARRY ME: There are things that need to be said at that moment (T)

**THE NUTCRACKER: All Harry wanted to do was take his daughter to watch The Nutcracker, but he didn't expect one of the dancers to mess with him so much. (T) AO3 

**BOSS’S SON: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy’s house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss’s son (T) AO3

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!:  Happy birthday to the woman who deserves all the happiness in the world. And for that, here’s an au where Jily lives, and Lily can celebrate her 61st birthday with her grandchildren and the whole family (G) (FLUUUUUF)

** HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRONGS!: ‘Now who’s the old here?’ ‘It’s still you, Lils, you’re older than me… I’m like wine, every year better.’ Happy birthday my boy! (G) 

REPUTATION:  Harry and Ginny don't have the best reputations, which is exactly why the two get along so well. (M)

AO3 | 1 |  2 |  3 |  4 | 5 | 6 | 7

YOU’RE THE RIGHT ONE:  James discovers that some friendships can be something more. He just doesn't know how to handle it all.  (next gen hp) (M) AO3 | 1 | 2 |

A LITTLE PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY:  Harry would let her end her life without even complaining (T)

EASY:  “Easy” by Camilla Cabelo (T) PART II (T)

THE ONE:  Because when Harry realizes that Ginny is The One, he needs to do something about it. Even if it is risky, because his godfather always alerts him; “What is a life without a little risk?” (T) 1 | 2

THE DUKE:  Some time ago a prophecy was made, one that said about two powerful and strong souls who would be able to defeat even the strongest of wizards, bringing peace that the Wizarding World has not seen for centuries. But for that to happen, they would have to be entwined through marriage. Everything was going well, the children were born healthy and were promised to each other, until one of them was kidnapped. (M) AO3 | FF.NET. | SIYE | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | **8

--------------------------------

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JILYTOBER

JILYTOBER: Trapped in a broom closet (T)

JILYTOBER: Lily denying she fancies James (T)

JILYTOBER: Jily first kiss (T) (part two of the prompt where Lily denying she likes James)

JILYTOBER: At a Quidditch Match (G)

JILYTOBER: [text] [2AM] “I’m here. Come outside” (M for just a small detail that no longer has T)

--------------------------------

PROMPT

PROMPT JILY:  With your fantastic ability to get into trouble, it doesn’t shock me to find you here (T)

PROMPT JILY:  This is a shitty idea, do you want my help? (G)

PROMPT JILY: I want more than all of this, I want longer than forever with you. I just wanna love you. And take you on dates. And fuck you. And hug you (T)

PROMPT JILY: Simply Jily Muggle, and big declarations of love - and a runaway bride (G)

PROMPT JILY:  Banana pancakes by jack johnson (G)

PROMPT JILY:  Just… just talk to me. Please (T)

PROMPT ROMIONE: Sleep, I promise tomorrow will be better (G)

PROMPT SIRIUS x HESTIA:  Hestia realizes there’s more to Sirius than just a bad boy image (T)

PROMPT SIRIUS X HESTIA: Sirius/ Hestia as a couple in hogwarts (T)

PROMPT SIRIUS x HESTIA: Sirius and Hestia during the years at Hogwarts (T)

**PROMPT SIRIUS X HESTA: Closing his eyes and hiding under the cover like a child, Sirius allowed himself to be miserable. It was horrible to like someone, he thought, he would rather die than have to feel it again. (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  I actually wanted to get your number…(G)

PROMPT HINNY: Do you always stare at others like that? (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  A new caffe has been opened near his house and Harry is besotted with the red headed barista (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ginny thinks they’re doing a great job keeping their house plants alive but actually, Harry has secretly replaced them with identical-looking fake plants so Ginny can’t kill them (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Kissing in a vehicle for lust (T) (with mild mentions of sex)

PROMPT HINNY:  This is definitely not my most attractive moment, but I promise I really am fit (M)

PROMPT HINNY:  (plus Romione) Let me explain. I was bored and you left me alone. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  What Ginny would smell in her Amortentia. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ootp Sirius accidentally stumbles upon Harry and Ginny talking and accidentally thinking that it’s Lily and James (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry and Ginny come into the common room after quidditch practice and Ginny’s trying to make a bet with Harry that she can do a certain trick/trickshot in their next quidditch match (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Lily, James and Sirius react to hinny first kiss in the after life (G) 

PROMPT HINNY/JILY:  Hinny in an au where Jily and Sirius are alive (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Cho being jealous of Hinny in 6th year (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Ginny being jealous of Cho in 6th year (G)

PROMPT HINNY: How far did Harry and Ginny go in Half Blood prince? (M)

PROMPT HINNY: Harry and Ginny talk about their relationship after the Battle of Hogwarts (M)

PROMPT HINNY: Harry watching Ginny’s first league match (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Kissing in the rain after a declaration of love (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Jily were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Please don’t die … If you die, I swear I will hunt you down in hell and bring you back (M) (For reasons of having description of blood and injuries)

PROMPT HINNY:  Ginny was a woman who kept her cool, at least most of the time, but sometimes her Weasley blood boiled like a bubbling cauldron, and when that happened, she felt out of control and took the least rational attitude of all time. And that was how Petunia was attacked by a Bat-Bogey Hex as soon as she opened the door to the house. (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my drink and leave you alone in your bad mood. I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me /  you have 5 seconds to get off me (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny kissing in a bar because they missing each other (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry winning Witch Weekly’s sexiest wizard alive (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  The first time Harry is called dad (G) (fluffffffff)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny taking 6 years old teddy to a Disneyland (G) (highly fluff)

PROMPT HINNY: Hinny and Teddy wearing matching costumes on Halloween (G)

PROMPT HINNY: Ginny's last days pregnant (G)

**PROMPT HINNY: Ron watches Harry and Ginny being new parents (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Harry and Ginny enroll their kids into a muggle Primary school the kids have a science fair, Harry helps them with it, Ginny and Arthur just being embarrassing muggle fanatics (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  Have you ever died? I did a few times, it was actually quiet painful but you know what they say, no pain, no gain. (G)

**PROMPT HINNY:  He and Harry had a fight last week... James said he didn’t like him anymore.’’ Ginny looked at her mother, looking a little sadder now. ‘’Harry cried.’ (G)

PROMPT HINNY: You’re safe now. I’m with you (T)

PROMPT HINNY:  Hinny dropping off James Sirius for his first year at Hogwarts (G)

PROMPT HINNY:  The boys and their dad vs Ginny and little Luna over having a sleepover with her guy friends (G) 

PROMPT HINNY: Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? (T)

PROMPT HINNY: Dudley reviewing Harry - now, with his own family - for the first time in a few years (G) PART II 

PROMPT HINNY: Blaise's son and Lily Luna start to date, and the Potter family doesn't handle the news very well (G)

PROMPT DRASTORIA:  Death bed (coffee for your head) by Powfu for Drastoria (T)

[professortennant]

Hello! If you like either of these from the kissing prompts post, I’m partial to #8 (shoulder kiss) because Hannah’s got amazing arms and shoulders and #13 (goodbye kiss) because I’m a sucker for a little angst

this was gonna be a 5 times fic and i was gonna get both of these in here but then i finished 3 and like......couldn’t bring myself to write the angsty goodbye part so INSTEAD have like 2500 words of fluff and light angst

i.

The first time she takes him to the airport, his first season as AFC Richmond’s head coach is over and she has granted him a blissful two months of reprieve from paperwork and contract negotiations. 

(“Are you sure?” he’d asked, looking at her—really looking at her—to make sure she wasn’t putting on a front for him. “Because I can help. I mean, I’m not so hot with laptop thing or the math thing, but I’m pretty good with the people thing.”

“I know,” she’d said, patting his arm gently. “But I can handle it. Go be with your boy.”

He’d let out a little yip, pressed a kiss to her cheek and practically leapt and run out of her office, calling out over his shoulder, “You’re the best boss!”)

It’s a thirty minute drive from her home to his and another hour to Heathrow and Ted spends every last one of those minutes bouncing his leg and checking and re-checking his phone, pulling up the electronic boarding pass as if making sure today was the right day and time and—

“Ted, the plane isn’t going anywhere without you on it.”

“Right, right.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket, twisting in the passenger seat beside her. It felt too impersonal to send her drive to pick him up or to allow him to hire his own driver, not after the hell she’d put him through this season. It was the smallest of steps in her journey to earn back his trust (no matter how many times he’d told her she already had it). 

“Can I tell you something?”

“I sense you will no matter what I say.”

He’d just grinned at that, hands wringing nervously in his lap. “What if too much has changed? What if I get there and Henry and Michelle have formed their own little club that I’m just not part of anymore?”

“Oh, Ted,” she’d sighed, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment to look over at him in sympathy. “That’s—that’s just not going to happen.” 

“But what if I get there and I don’t fit?”

“Ted, I don’t think there’s anywhere on this planet that you don’t fit.” He’d blushed a little at that in an aw shucks way that she found entirely too endearing. She tried to remember her promise to herself: to be more open, to be more available. Right. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and flicked her gaze over to him once more, just to make sure he was still listening. “My father was a very successful businessman. He traveled all over the world and was always away from home. I missed him terribly, even if I knew he wasn’t leaving because he wanted to.”

“Not really helping, boss.”

“But,” she continued, glaring at him. “Whenever he came home, it was the best day of the year. He used to gather me up into his arms and swing me around in our front garden and tell me all the stories of the places he’d been to and it wiped away every moment of missing him once he was back. I never felt like he didn’t belong back home. Not once.”

The feeling of Ted’s hand settling atop of hers on the gear shift startled her and she looked down, took in the sight of his tan, calloused hand covering hers. She made the tight turn into the drop-off lane in the Heathrow Departures section of the car park. 

“Thanks, Rebecca. Really. I mean it.”

“Yes, well, family is hard.” And this was the part that would cost her, would hurt like hell. She threw on her hazards and put the car into park. “Ted, while you’re home, I-I want you to think about your position here at Richmond.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I pulled you away from your family to bring you here and I know things have changed for you, but if you need to leave, if you want to check if Wichita State will take you back while you’re home, I would understand.”

“Rebecca,” Ted said, a small smile on his face. He gripped her hand in his, tugged it into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “I told you already: You and me have got unfinished business here.”

“But, your fam—”

“I’m coming back.”

When he said it like that, firm and sure and like a promise, she couldn’t help but believe him, the reassurance settling something anxious in her chest, a fear that she didn’t know she was harboring.

He leaned across the console and for the second time in two weeks, pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the curve of her cheek, his mustache tickling her, before disappearing just as quickly, sliding out the car and ducking back in for a moment to tell her goodbye. “Thanks again for the ride.” He winked at her and then, “See you in two months.”

(About ten hours later, in the middle of the night, she received a text message from Ted: a picture of Ted and Henry in the front yard, Ted’s arms wrapped tightly around the little boy, their heads thrown back and laughing. The picture was blurred enough for her to tell that they were in motion. Ted’s accompanying message read: Thanks for the advice, boss.

She pressed the little heart reaction on each of the messages, just as Sam had shown her last week .)

ii.

 Between the start of the Championship League and Christmas, things had changed around the AFC Richmond clubhouse. Roy now wore a coach’s jacket and lanyard, scowling his way up and down the football pitch. Keeley sported a shiny ring on her left hand and a new title as Richmond’s Media and PR Director. Beard and Nate spent every waking moment attending matches across the country, absorbing the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents and working on ways to incorporate new strategies into their own game.

And over weekends spent exploring the winding cobblestone paths of London’s markets, ducking into older-than-Shakespeare bookshops together and weekends spent cooking barbecue and walking through parks, Ted and Rebecca had found somewhere along the way that they meant more to each other than just boss and gaffer, than just friends.

(He’d always assumed when it happened—if it happened—it would be in a rush of emotion after a big game or in quiet, shared comfort after a loss. But it had nothing to do with AFC Richmond, they came together on their own over a shared love of yellowed paperbacks and the bit of latte foam in his mustache and her gentle, exasperation with him, thumb swiping over his top lip and—and then her mouth on his, his hands on her hip and cradling her face, a murmured, “Finally,” against her lips.)

But tonight is Ted’s last night in London for a week, closing the gap between Boxing Day and the first week of the near year in Kansas City with Henry. They’d fallen into a devastatingly easy intimacy, one she knew she would never recover from. His flat was all but vacant now, most of his clothes and books mixed up with hers—his stack of adventure books and motivational, leadership workbooks on his side of the bed and her stack of mystery novels and Sudoku puzzles on hers, his open jar of peanut butter on her kitchen counter and her sheets smelling of his body wash.

Tonight, they sit up in bed, the soft, yellow light of their bedside lamps allowing them both to read in bed together, glasses perched on the ends of their noses. Beneath the bedsheets, Ted’s toes wiggle excitedly. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep,” he tells her, dogearing his page and putting the book away, rolling onto his side to face Rebecca. “Feels like Christmas all over again. Two Christmases, Rebecca.” 

She looks at him over the rim of her glasses, smiling ruefully at him. “You better sleep tonight or the jet lag will kill you.”

“So wise,” he teases, leaning over to press a soft kiss to her exposed shoulders. She sighed, and kissed the top of his head before returning back to her book. But Ted didn’t roll back to his side of the bed, instead tracing his fingertips along the hem of her pajama top, lips pressing once more to her shoulders, open-mouthed and enticing.

“Ted,” she warns, voice low and breathy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand slides against her belly, creeping up to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipple while his mouth works over the curve of her shoulder and to her neck, nuzzling against her and encouraging her to tilt her head back to allow him better access. 

“I just thought of a very, very good way to tire myself out and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh did you?” She scratched her nails down his back and into his hair, holding his mouth to the place on her neck that made her legs feel like jelly.

He hummed against her skin, reaching blindly for her book to toss it off the bed and settle atop her, mouth working on the underside of her jaw and then to her mouth, kissing her hungrily.

“A week apart, Rebecca,” he gasps against her mouth, pressing his hips against hers and grinding down. “That seems an awful long time.”

She loops her arms around his neck and one leg hitches around his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “A week and then you’re coming back, right?”

She hates that she still has to ask, hates that she needs the reassurance, hates that she is terrified he will leave her behind irreparably broken.

His face softens and he traces a fingertip over her brow and nose and kisses her softly. “Coupon for life, remember, young lady? I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you.”

She presses her forehead to his and breathes him in, tightens her hold on him for a moment and memorizes the feel of him against her. And then he moves against her and it’s a rush of frenzied touches, gasps and moans, slick skin and hurried, whispered assurances. 

When she drops him off at the airport, this time with a soft kiss, and watches him disappear into the sliding double doors of Heathrow, she remembers his words: I’m coming back.

iii.

Their first fight involves raised voices and snappy words and a level of miscommunication that would make Keeley feel ashamed. It starts with a bad day for both of them—frustrating lawyers dragging their feet on salary re-negotiations and a string of vapid, mind numbing conference calls for Rebecca and a team of unmotivated, surly footballers for Ted, in-fighting and dirty scrimmage play making his blood boil. It ends with Rebecca snapping at Ted for not loading the dishwasher properly and Ted accusing her of micromanaging.

“You know what,” he growls, barely keeping a lid on his temper, can feel himself spiraling out of control. “You once told me to leave before I say something I regret and I think I better just do that.”

“Good! Go!”

She watches with a heaving chest and pounding heart as he collects his AFC Richmond puffer jacket, steps into one of his many pairs of Nikes, and storms out the front door into the evening and away from her. 

The moment his form disappears from view, her face crumples and she collapses into the kitchen chair, face buried in her shaking hands. As far as fights went, it certainly wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, her mind helpfully supplying her with flashes of the knockout-dragout fights she and Rupert had frequently engaged in, the cruelty and worst of each of them always sneaking out. 

But cruelty wasn’t in Ted’s bones and it wasn’t in hers either. She didn’t want to fight and she didn’t want to go to bed alone and angry, not after nearly a year of sleeping next to Ted every night.

She sent him a quick text: I’m sorry. Bad day at the office and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Come back home and we can talk about this.

But no response comes and all she can do is wait, pacing the front hallway, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the kitchen. She sticks her finger into his peanut butter jar and hopes the sticky substance will help hold her heart together until he comes home. 

Maybe she’d always expected it would come to this—her ruining them, driving him away, just as Rupert had said she’d done to him. 

Not enough, Rebecca. You’re just…not enough for me.

But, she reminds herself, Ted is not Rupert. She and Ted are not she and Rupert. He’ll come back, they’ll fix this, it’ll be fine. Her head repeats it over and over again like a mantra, but her heart is stubborn and frozen in paralyzing fear.

Twenty minutes go by.

Thirty.

Forty. 

An hour later, she picks up her phone, checks it again but there are no messages from him, no indication that he’s coming back. A small, desperate sob slips out from the back of her throat and she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing the sting of tears away.

The sound of the front door opening startles her and before she can rush into the hallway to see if it’s him, Ted stands in the sitting room before her, brambles in his hair. 

“I, uh, got a little lost walking around, got stuck in my head. And, you know, the streets look a lot different at night, so—”

But she doesn’t care if he wandered into a bush or hitchhiked home with an aardvark or whatever ridiculous adventure he’s been on in the last hour, he’s home.

She stands, throws her arms around his neck and shoulders, presses herself against him and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” she gasps into his skin. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes and soothes her, rubs his palm over her back and up over her head, slipping his fingers into her hair and stroking over and over again. “Hey, hey, none of this, okay? I’m sorry, alright? But we got through our first big fight, right? We’re okay, we’re okay.”

She holds him tighter, turns her head to kiss his neck and cheek and jaw and lips. “I was so worried you weren’t going to—” But she can’t even finish the worry, ashamed she even doubted him, some fears too deeply ingrained. 

Ted cradles her face, rubs his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I told you, sweetheart, you got me for life. You got your listening ears on?” He reaches up to tug gently on her ears, making her smile. “Okay good, listen up: I will always come back. For as long as you want me, you got me.”

“Okay,” she sighs, turns her head into his palm and kisses the center of his hand. “Okay.”

[kingofhearts709]

Bill and Ted do a scary movie marathon but then cant sleep

hello yes its no surprise that my first thought was nightmare on elm street so we're going with a 5 movie marathon of THAT up to the 1989 film HAHA 🤙 hope you enjoy!!

A/N: there are some very vague spoilers for the nightmare on elm street series (i mean like VAGUE) and also uhh small warning for like mentions of the slashing in the films?? its NOES i mean 🤷

this came out very kinda cute and idk if that's what you wanted but it's what my brain created 🎸

---

Bill and Ted have never done very well with especially scary movies.

Of course, they could handle one by itself, so long as it's followed up by something else lighthearted and definitely not The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

However, the newest A Nightmare On Elm Street was supposed to be coming out soon, and it was Bill's brightest of ideas that they marathon the first five in preparation for the plotline. The last thing Bill remembered happening, vaguely, is an unborn baby and something about a nun. Ted hardly remembered the first one.

Hence, the marathon.

"Dude, we're totally gonna dominate this horror marathon," Bill said as he started busting out the VHS box set, laying them side by side so he wouldn't forget what order they had to watch them in. "I highly doubt that we, as mature adults of modern society, will cower in the face of Freddy Krueger." Bill looked up to see Ted's face scrunched with pension, and immediately started to back away from the whole thing entirely, putting the first movie back down.

"I just...," Ted huffed where he was slumped on their couch, and whipped his head up to look at Bill. "Remember when we saw the first one in the theatre and screamed so loud that the attendant dude had to escort us out?"

"Yeah..." Bill remembered the memory well. They totally missed out on the ending of that movie the first time. Bill shook his head, "But Ted, that was, like, seven years ago. We've totally grown up! I'm sure that it'll be a most excellent experience."

Ted could hear the hope in Bill's voice, so he gave a small huff and a firm, brave nod for Bill to put the tape in. Bill pumped his fist as he inserted the tape, jumping back up onto the couch next to Ted and nearly knocking their popcorn bowl over. Bill suggested they start the marathon around five, considering they were about to embark upon nearly eight hours of monster movie magic. The two had already spent the afternoon together making sure they had easy meals for when they got hungry later.

Ted had almost wished they didn't need the marathon as an excuse to do so, but of course, it was quickly a thought to be pushed to the back of his head.

The opening sequence of the first film began, and soon enough, both Bill's and Ted's eyes were laser-trained on the small TV, Ted giving a jump at any scare and Bill giving a gasp at any gore.

They managed okay through the first one. "The first one's never the scariest, dude," Bill said with forced confidence, though Ted could clearly see him shivering as he set up the next tape. He was shivering too, and he kind of wished Bill would sit closer to him, just to make sure he was actually there, and it all wasn't a dream where Freddy was about to slash open his insides at the last second.

They pushed their way through the second and the third without moving from the couch, and Ted finally chanced a glance over at Bill as soon as the credits started rolling.

Bill was visibly shaking, in a way that made Ted wonder if he was having some sort of horror-induced seizure.

"Dude," Ted said quietly, and Bill blinked as he let out a deep breath and looked over at Ted. "Are you okay?" Bill swallowed as he nodded.

"I'm totally cool, duder," he said assuredly, though his face didn't say the same. "Uh... Snack break?"

"Yeah, dude, definitely." Ted looked up and over at their wall clock to see it was almost ten at night, and they hadn't eaten a single mouthful of anything since their popcorn. "I'm egregiously starved."

Bill nodded as he stood up before stopping completely in his tracks.

"Dude," he said, quiet. "I have a most terrible feeling." Ted swallowed thickly as he watched Bill turn away.

"Dude, whatever joke you're about to pull, I swear, I'll punch you," Ted warned immediately. "Don't."

"Dude, it isn't a joke, I think-" Bill suddenly whipped his body around towards Ted and Ted let out a loud scream as he cowered away from Bill's figure. Bill let out a relieved sigh and Ted slowly uncovered his face to see Bill rubbing at his back. "I twisted my back, dude."

"Oh," Ted breathed out. He shook his head, "Dude, I totally thought you were about to Krueger me." Bill looked at him for a long moment before he started to laugh, and Ted couldn't help but join in.

The thought was so ridiculous, of course, but Ted could never be too sure with the things he'd experienced in life.

"C'mon, Ted, let's eat dinner," Bill huffed as he stretched out a little more before heading to the kitchen to heat up their pre-made spaghetti. Bill returned five minutes later with two bowls of noodles and two forks, passing one into Ted's lap and setting the other on top of the TV before reaching for the next tape.

"Bill, dude, already?" Ted said as Bill slid out the tape and inserted the next (he'd have to remind himself to rewind them all later the next day).

"Ted, the sooner we get through them, the sooner we can be done," Bill reasoned as the fourth movie began, grabbing his bowl and sliding back onto the couch, this time within Ted's immediate reach. Whether or not it was intentional was beyond either of them.

"You make it sound heinous," Ted mumbled, though his eyes were already studying the screen with apt attention.

"Sometimes, my friend, you have to suffer to enjoy masterpieces," Bill mumbled back, mindlessly twirling his spaghetti in the bowl without picking it up.

The fourth movie ended more abruptly than either of them expected, with only half of each of their bowls eaten. Bill blinked into the suddenly eerie and dark room as he abandoned his bowl and fork and dove for the TV to stop the tape. The room went suddenly quiet and Ted didn't dare move.

"One more," Bill whispered despite the fact that they were the only ones there, and Ted listened to Bill insert the fifth and final tape.

"Dude," Ted pleaded, unsure what he was pleading for. Probably for Bill to finish and get back up on the couch so Ted didn't throw himself in a full-fledged panic. They'd already come so far and they weren't about to give up now, but it would help immensely if he weren't alone.

Bill jumped back up onto the couch, thigh to thigh with Ted as the last opening sequence of the night played in their dark living room at nearly midnight.

Bill's closeness was more distracting than ever, Ted almost missing the best and most heinously gorey pieces of the film every time Bill tensed up and shook against him. He's sure he'd been doing the same thing, though Bill didn't seem at all affected by it.

It was strange how fear seemed to literally bring them closer together, and it almost made Ted laugh at the thought that Freddy Krueger could possibly be some kind of ingenious cupid, creating connection through collective terrorising.

However, as he listened to the children sing Freddy's rhyme at the end of the movie, he thought better of that notion because Bill was hiding his face in his shoulder, and he was pretty sure no cupid would do such a thing as to make his best friend cry.

"Bill, dude, you're shaking," Ted whispered quietly. "The movie's over." Bill breathed in as he lifted his head to look at the TV, relieved to see that it was over. He subtly began to wipe at his eyes, and it amazed Ted how this had all been Bill's idea, and yet he was the one most terrified.

"Ted, I do believe," Bill began, doing his best to puff up his chest, "that we are truly the most bravest of all the brave." Ted smiled as he nodded. He would've made fun of Bill for getting scared were it not for the own lingering terror he was still feeling.

"Bill, we are most definitely two of the bravest men alive," Ted agreed with a nod. He paused for a second before adding, "Next time, though, maybe we should just see the new movie by itself."

It took a moment before Bill nodded, and they both collectively said, "Agreed."

Ted did the liberty of turning the lights back on and throwing out their half-eaten dinners, Bill putting the tape pile aside for rewinding later. They both finished and met up at their bedroom door before nodding and heading to their respective beds.

It was quiet as they slipped underneath their sheets, Ted reaching and turning off the bedside lamp, shrouding them both in darkness. Ted could hear Bill's unsteady breathing from the other side of the room, large breaths in and out like he was having trouble calming down.

Ted was having a similar issue, wincing every time he tried to close his eyes and seeing gruesome scenes from the movies behind the lids. He did his best to think about other, less Krueger-y things, but ultimately, it seemed like even through film, Freddy seemed to have a hold on both of them.

After nearly a whole hour of heavy breathing and occasional wincing, Ted finally spoke up, "Dude, I totally can't sleep."

"Yeah, me neither," Bill said instantly, taking another deep breath. "I keep thinking that Freddy dude is gonna get me as soon as I fall asleep."

"Dude, me too." Ted huffed. "You think if we fell asleep at the same time, we'd have the same dream? That way if he does end up coming after us, at least we'll be together."

"Ted, that's total bogus," Bill groaned, rolling over to look at Ted. "He isn't real."

"Yeah, but our brains think he totally is," Ted countered. "So, if we trick our brains into thinking he can't fight the both of us at once, maybe we'll get some sleep." A long silence seemed to stretch before Bill let out a snort, and Ted let one out right after. "Yeah, dude, that's definitely not how it works."

"Nah, dude," Bill laughed. "But your idea would be most outrageously correct within the Elm Street universe." Ted laughed as he watched Bill shake with his own in the darkness.

"Let's try to sleep, Bill," Ted said when the chuckles died down, and he tried to shut his eyes. The images still flashed, however, and he had to open his eyes again. Bill was still staring at him. "Dude, this is most non-triumphant."

"...Hey, Ted," Bill spoke up, voice nervous, and Ted gave him his undivided attention. "D'you... Like, would it be okay if-"

"-we shared the bed?" Ted finished the thought, and Bill let out a barely visible grin. "Yeah, dude."

Since Bill had the bigger blanket of the two of them, Ted was the one to climb under Bill's covers and lay down inches from his face. Somehow, this was far better than sleeping ten feet away from him. This way, Ted could feel him and make sure he was there.

"Hey, dude," Ted said, breath hot against Bill's face, and he managed a smile.

"Thanks, Ted," he found himself saying, and Ted furrowed his brows.

"For what, dude?"

"I would've never gotten through five of the most egregiously gorey and triumphantly horrific movies in cinema without you."

Ted laughed as he hid his face in Bill's chest, and Bill found himself holding him as he did so, until they were just lying there, together.

"And we'll get through the new one together, too," Ted mumbled into Bill, whose breathing had finally gone steady.

This time when he closed his eyes, he didn't catch the flashing images of Freddy Krueger. Instead, he saw the flashing images of Bill and his grin that said there was no way Freddy Krueger could ever best the both of them as long as they were together.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You're a worker at Ransom's country club and he takes your virginity, please? 💖

+Drabble request for randsom! He start to blackmail the reader into sleeping with him or he’ll let out her dirty little secret ( you can choose what ever that would be!)

requested by @bbyhoneybee-x

Plus Gratuity

Warning: noncon, thievery, blackmail

Your heart raced as you crept around the locker room. The first time was terrifying and almost paralysing but with each visit the guilt slowly faded. These men were so rich, they probably didn’t even notice the missing bills. They tipped well enough but not enough to stomach their errant hands and wandering eyes. They owed you more if you were going to pay your way through grad school on their perversion.

Sad almost how old men filled their midlife crises with golf and ogling women who weren’t their wives. Women who were much too young for them. How they spent the money which had once brought them pride and joy on a woman who would never do more than preen and give a fake laugh in hopes of another bill in her apron.

But you needed more and you weren’t about to beg for it. Your textbooks had infringed upon your rent and your grocery bill had sent your account into overdraft. The first time had been desperation, the second for your commute, until the profit was as much the thrill as the money. Oh, and your phone was cracked thanks to your sprint for the bus.

Harold Ballard's wallet was thick but you were disappointed to find only ones. Perhaps a post-golf visit to the strip club. Ted Lauren’s was a bit more flush and you trusted that a twenty would be unnoticed among the wad of fifties. You continued your rounds as you listened for any footsteps, any strain of the faucets, any clatter of the locker doors beside your own careful prying.

You eased the last locker closed and sighed. You tiptoed around to the exit just beside the showers. You grabbed the long metal handle but the door didn’t budge. You frowned and tried again. The little knob was broken and the flat face was centered with an impossible hole.

You shrugged and flitted back around and across the locker room. The other exit was much the same and there was only one other left; that which led into the pool. You’d have to hope no one noticed you sneaking through.

That door was locked too.

“You didn’t get the hundred in my shoe. Tucked up in the toe.” You turned at the voice which often had your blood cold.

Ransom was of the few younger members of the club and never had more than an arrogant sneer to offer for your troubles. He was a terrible tipper and a worse person.

“I don’t know what you mean,” You said.

“Don’t act so innocent,” He scoffed as he crossed his arms. “You’re pretty slick. Fast. Quiet. If not a little oblivious.”

“I don’t—”

“Hey, if I was you, I’d fleece these pricks for all they got. Gerry’s Rolex is a cool ten grand, even if it is as old as me.”

You stared at him. You were caught. The bile gathered in your chest and you reached into the shallow apron around your waist.

“I’ll put it all back,” You said softly.

“I don’t care. These assholes won’t even know it’s gone.” He smirked. “Unless… Unless someone tells them.”

“What do you want?” Your head pulsed.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry, I’ll add that hundred to your haul.”

He dropped his arms and his hands gripped his hips, his index fingers pressed to the smooth leather of his belt. He still wore his golf clothes, the white shirt tight enough that you could as good as see through it and his slacks sleekly cut so that he seemed even taller.

“What is it? New purse? Shoes? I always wondered what you looked like without that ridiculous apron.” He taunted.

“Tuition. Books. You know, because some of us weren’t handed a trust fund.” You snarled.

“Now, now, don’t be a bitch cause you got caught,” He warned. “I could be a real piece and tell the owner. I’m sure that tuition will be easier to pay without a job.”

You frowned and stayed quiet.

“You done for the day?”

“On break,” You answered.

“I can be quick,” He winked.

You drew your brows together. You didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“You can have the money,” You offered weakly as he stepped forward.

“I have money,” He grabbed your arm before you could retreat. “You know that.”

“What are you--?”

“Stop wasting time,” He wrenched you toward him. He spun and shoved you into the locker room. “Not much I could want from you.”

He grabbed the waist of your pants, just below the string of your apron. He pushed you forward around the bench as you tried to dig your flats into the tile. You threw your hands up as he forced you against the lockers. He leaned his weight on you until you felt the metal of the door dip.

“Ransom—”

“Mr. Drysdale,” He grabbed the back of your neck. “We’ve never been that familiar.”

You shuddered as his fingers pushed beneath your pants. “Mr. Drysdale, I—please…”

“We don’t have time to waste,” His breath tickled your ear. “Do we?”

“Stop—I don’t—I can’t—Just tell Mr. Denakos. I’ll tell him myself—”

“Mmm, that’s no fun,” He ripped your pants down below your ass and wiggled his hips as he ground his crotch against you.

You whined as he slid his hand between your bodies and rubbed himself before tearing down your panties. You pushed against the locker and tried to wiggle out from his grasp.

“Please—”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t act like you don’t want this.” He purred.

“No, no, I haven’t—”

You bit your lip as he dipped his hand along your ass and forced his fingers between your legs. He kicked his foot between yours and inched them apart. He pushed you harder against the locker and the breath rushed from your lungs.

He was rough as he felt around and teased your folds. You gulped as he slipped a finger into you. You were unprepared for the intrusion. You squeaked and he added another finger.

“Ah, st—ow,” You uttered.

“Come on, don’t act like such a precious little…” His voice trailed off as your body tensed and your nails scratched the metal. “No…”

“Please, stop,” You begged.

“Oh ho, this is gonna be even better,” He drew his fingers in and out of you. “Shit, you better get wet soon.”

“Mr--- Drysdale!” You exclaimed as he pushed until he was knuckle deep. “Ahhh.”

“Fuck it,” He pulled out harshly. “We don’t got time for this.”

The metal of his buckle jingled and tickled the top of your ass. He kept your feet apart with his as he pinned your shoulders with one arm. You felt the smooth tip of his cock as he bared it and pressed it to your ass.

“Ran—”

“No,” He snaked his arm around you and clapped his hand over your mouth. “What did I say?”

You mumbled into his hand as he bent his knees and poked between your legs. Your feet slipped slightly as he pressed his head along your entrance. He pushed until he was cradled by your. He brought his other hand away from his cock and grabbed your hip. He tilted your pelvis and you tried to turn your head away from his other hand. He slammed into you so that your chest was crushed against the locker.

You were on your tiptoes as you were stretched by his length. It hurt so immaculately that the corners of your eyes pricked. He jerked his hips, each time you struggled to keep your feet on the tile, each thrust crushed you further against the locker.

You whined into his palm as he clamped over your mouth and his other fingers curled around your hip and tangled in your apron. You strained around him and latched onto his wrist as you tried to ease the pain.

“A fucking virgin,” He hissed as he rutted against you. “Fucking thief.” He nuzzled your head. “Bet ya not even on anything, hmm?” He got faster and faster, driven by his own voice. “And I just went in bare. Oh, you feel fucking great. So tight.”

You slapped at his hand as your breath hitched and the pressure built in your pelvis.

“I’m gonna blow inside of you,” He whispered. “You like that, hmm? You gonna go out there and smile at those old men with my cum dripped out of you.”

You shook your head and his hand got tighter around your face. He thrust frantically and his grunts filled your ears. Your hips ached as he hammer into you and he withdrew his hand to slap the locked door beside you. He growled and you felt a sudden warmth. He slowed and finally stilled. Your walls were tender and sensitive.

“What time you done?” He asked as he pulled out and his cum leaked from you.

You quivered as he backed away and you barely kept on your feet as you stayed frozen against the metal.

“Well?” He sat heavily on the bench and huffed.

“Four-thirty,” You uttered as you turned slowly to face him. You were stunned as you couldn’t think of anything to do but pull up your panties and black pants.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Living is Harder

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it.

Tim is walking home from Steph’s house, his light-up Sketchers the only things illuminating his path through the Gotham night. He stayed out later than he planned, utterly captivated in the Among Us tournament he and Steph were playing against their Titan friends all the way in San Francisco. (And Tim would have gotten away with the murders too, if it weren’t for that meddling Bart Allen who stared Tim down every time he killed a player, watching it happen but never reporting until Tim finally cracked from the shame and called an emergency meeting on himself.)

Tim rode in Steph’s car on the way to her house, but forgot that it would mean he’d be without a ride home. Steph offered to drive him back to the manor, that she doesn’t mind losing a measly hour of sleep, but Tim insisted he didn’t mind walking. Besides, it’s not like it was a lie. Sure, it’s Gotham, which means Tim can see drug deals going down on street corners and the occasional drunkard puking into a trash can, but Tim feels at peace here.

It brings him back to his early days of climbing fire escapes, tailing Batman and Robin under the cloak of night in the hopes to get just one more photo for his collection. It was a simpler time with fewer psychotic clowns—back then it was just the one, and all he did was tell shitty jokes and occasionally tie Robin up over a swimming pool filled with Jokerized sharks. Nowadays it’s all grotesque murders and creepy masks made of human skin. Where’s the showmanship? Where’s the pizzazz? Disgusting. Deplorable. Lazy beyond all reason. Tim is insulted by the lack of artistic ability in these new Jokers, and you may quote him on that. Regardless, Tim takes comfort in knowing that if something did go wrong, Cass is patrolling somewhere a good five blocks ahead. Maybe he can track her down and pick them up some corn dogs. He’s currently in the Red Hood’s territory, but whether Jason is around at the moment is a gamble at best. His schedule is harder to tamp down than a solid answer on Ted Cruz: Zodiac Killer. Jason might not even be in Gotham right now; he could be in space for all anyone knows. Sometimes Tim feels like Jason is more of a feral cat than a brother, which isn’t too far off, really. Tim happens upon an empty beer can on the sidewalk in front of a boarded-up store that he’s fairly certain used to be an adult film shop. Good ol’ Gotham City. He stoops down to pick up the crinkled can like the good samaritan he is and drops it into a trash can at the mouth of a nearby alley. He wipes his hands on his jeans, designer style be damned. That’s when Tim is grabbed from behind, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth and muffle his shout. He’s pulled into the alley and pushed up against a wall, the bricks digging into his back and knocking the breath from his lungs. Shit, shit, shit. How could he have been taken by surprise so easily? It’s hard to make out his attacker in the shadowed alley, the only discernible features being dark eyes and bared yellow teeth—never a good sign. Tim’s hands are pinned together above him in a strong grip, practically wrenching his shoulders from the sockets. He tries to scream, but the man’s disgusting hand presses harder against his mouth. Tim freezes when he feels the poke of a knife at his throat, digging into the skin just below his Adam’s apple. “Make a sound and I’ll gut you,” his attacker says, his voice a low rumble. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol assaults Tim’s sinuses and makes his stomach roll. He’s going to have to be careful about this. Robin could get out of this hold in five different ways with varying degrees of injury to the opponent, but a civilian couldn’t. Even if the only witness is a low-life scumbag, he shouldn’t run the risk. Better to wait until he’s at the point of no return to bust out the Robin moves. Instead, Tim goes for the oldest trick in the book and knees the man in the crotch, hard. It has the desired effect and the grip on Tim’s wrists slackens, the man dropping him with a grunt. Tim ducks out of range and makes a run for it. If he can just get to the street, he should be home free. Even in Gotham City, there are always witnesses to help out a poor, defenseless teenager under attack. Tim almost makes it to the sidewalk when he’s grabbed by the hair, crying out as he’s thrown violently to the ground. Then there’s weight on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the dirty ground under his back. Tim fights, kicking out and delivering purposeful hits under the guise of a panicked struggle. “You little shit,” the man spits. He’s still got a hold on Tim’s hair, which he uses to slam Tim’s head against the pavement so hard that Tim goes blind for a good ten seconds, his head spinning. The back of his scalp feels wet, and he hates to think about what bacteria must be lurking on the ground beneath him. The knife clatters somewhere to Tim’s side and he’s almost relieved until a hand wraps around his throat, cutting off his next breath. Instinct plunges him into panic, choking on the lack of air and scrambling to get a hold on his attacker. Scratching, kicking, desperately trying to loosen the grip crushing his windpipe. “You didn’t have to make this so difficult,” the man tells him. His body presses down on Tim’s smaller form, keeps him trapped against the unforgiving asphalt, and this is it. This is the point of no return he’s been waiting for, but now Tim is here and he can’t do anything about it. Not even Robin could get out of this without a weapon, and Tim has none. He’s powerless. The creep releases Tim’s hair with a whisper of, “Don’t move.” Before he can do anything more with his newly freed hand, though, Tim’s body is thrown into action faster than he can comprehend moving at all. The world goes hazy, time itself turning to molasses. Absently Tim feels muscles flex, sees shapes move in front of his eyes, but someone else might as well be controlling Tim’s body while he’s locked in the backseat, missing the entire ride. One minute Tim is on his back with the creep on top of him, and after a chunk of time that Tim can’t remember participating in, he’s standing against the alley wall with something clutched in his hand. Tim blinks back the fog, but it lingers. He looks down and studies the way his fingers clasp the handle of the knife. That can’t be right. He wasn’t holding a knife before. Tim comes back to his body in increments, a stop-motion reel. First there’s a stinging ache on the back of his head, blood soaking into the back of his shirt and plastering his hair against his neck. His gaze slips from the glinting knife to the blood that covers his hands, warm and sticky. Then he catches a shape on the ground in front of him and Tim’s breath catches in his throat. The man from before is on the ground now, his eyes closed and blood spreading from a stab wound directly over his sternum. Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god. Tim did this. He was...he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and...he didn’t mean it. Tim staggers back until his back hits the cold brick wall, his pulse pounding in his ears so loud the entire city must hear it. He just stabbed a person. He just killed a person. The one rule he’s supposed to follow, the one thing he promised never to do, and he just did it. Without even a second’s hesitation. He took a life. What is Bruce going to say when he finds out? Tim’s legs are made of jello, wobbling in warning until they give out entirely and he slides to the ground, knees pulled in close to his chest. His hands are still covered in blood. A dead man’s blood. He should...he should do something. He should act. First-aid, stop the bleeding, do whatever it takes to help in case there’s a chance. Tim doesn’t move. He doesn’t even try. His limbs have been replaced with rubber, his brain with slush. He just killed a man. In the back of his mind he knows he can’t go home, not like this. Not covered in another man’s blood. Even if he tried, Tim isn’t sure he’d make it two steps without collapsing into a puddle of whatever emotion is making him feel as though he’s rotting from the inside out. His family lives by a code, would sooner die themselves than take a life. Bats don’t kill. Tim doesn’t kill. Tim killed. His fingers shake as they take out his cell phone on autopilot, and the screen is cracked at the corner from when he was slammed into the ground. That’s going to cost money to fix. Tim gets blood on the screen, smudging over his contact list and warping the names. He finds the one he’s looking for and puts the phone to his ear. A ring. Two rings. A click. “This had better be important,” Jason says. Tim swallows. “Um. I—um.” He can’t take his eyes off of the body, lying there still as a corpse. Because it is a corpse. “My...head isn’t working. It’s—something is wrong. With me.” “Are you high or something? Because if you are, I’ll fucking kill you.” That does it. What little resolve Tim held on to cracks in one clean split and a sob bursts through. He covers his mouth with his elbow, choking on gasps. “Jay, I—it was an accident. I swear to god, I didn’t mean to. He was...it wasn’t...I didn’t mean to.” There’s a creak on the other end, maybe Jason sitting up in his chair. Or maybe he just sat down. Maybe he closed a door. Too many things in the world are creaky. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?” “He’ll kick me out. He’s gonna take Robin away from me.” Something slams—definitely a door. “Kid, tell me where you are.” “I don’t know. It was—” His brain isn’t working. For the first time in his life, logic and reason escape him and Tim’s mind pushes into overdrive, drags him deeper and deeper into oblivion. Bruce is going to find out. He’s going to find out and he’s going to hate Tim for the rest of his life. Bruce doesn't like murderers. “Goddamn it. Tim, listen to me. Can you do that?” It takes a moment, but Tim manages to get out an affirming noise. “I’m going to track your phone and come get you. Don’t move, got it? Stay right where you are. I’ll be there soon.” Jason hangs up, leaving Tim alone again. He drops his phone back on the concrete, uncaring of potential breaks. It’s already been cracked. “He’s going to kick me out,” Tim repeats to the empty alleyway. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim is cold by the time Jason arrives. Or maybe he’s been cold this entire time. It’s hard to tell. “Fuck,” Jason swears as he takes in the scene before him. The body on the pavement. Tim, huddled against the alley wall, his eyes glazed over as he stares at the body like a horror movie he can’t turn off. Jason isn’t wearing his helmet, just a domino mask. He takes it off when he kneels in front of Tim, makes Tim meet his eyes. “Hey, kid. You with me?” “I killed him.” The words taste acrid on Tim’s tongue, sour. “Don’t worry about that now. Are you hurt anywhere?” Tim doesn’t answer. The back of his head stung before, but the pain is muffled now. Everything is muffled. “I killed him, Jay. I’m a murderer. Bruce is...I’m not supposed to kill. Robins don’t kill. They don’t.” His chest is tight, getting tighter by the minute until it feels like every breath is being sucked in through a tiny straw. “Tim, breathe,” Jason tells him. He puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and that helps a little. Gives him something to latch onto. “You’re in shock. Try putting your head between your knees.” Tim does, stares down at the dirty pavement between his sneakers. His eyes linger on an old fast food receipt. It has droplets of blood on it. “I don’t know what happened, I really don’t. He was—it was an accident. He was on top of me and he had a knife and then he was choking me and...I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, so I just—I just moved. And now he’s dead. I killed him. What am I going to do?” “It was self-defense,” Jason says, as if the answer could really be so simple. “If you hadn’t acted, he would have hurt you. Maybe even killed you. You did the right thing.” “No, it’s—” Tim picks his head up, digs his nails into his knees to keep himself above the fog. “No. I took a life. I’m guilty. I can’t—there’s no coming back from that. There isn’t.” How can he live with himself after this? Does he even deserve to? “What, so you would rather be dead than have to tell Bruce you took a life? Seriously?” “Yes.” There’s no hesitation, not even a pause to let the words soak in. Jason sighs, and Tim is too far gone to decipher what it means. He squeezes Tim’s shoulder once and stands, goes over to the body still lying on the ground. (As if a dead man would go anywhere.) Jason crouches down and takes off one of his gloves, presses two fingers over the man’s neck. After a moment or two, he lets out a breath. “He’s still alive.” Tim’s breath hitches. “Really? Are you sure?” “Pulse is thready, but he’s not dead.” All of the air leaves Tim’s lungs in one huge whoosh, making him lightheaded. “Oh my god. That’s…” That’s good, right? It’s a good thing. It should be a good thing. “Yup. That’s one hell of a relief.” Jason straightens up from his crouch. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a gun, and fires it into the man’s head. “Jason!” It happens so fast that Tim doesn’t even have the capacity to think about the blood and brain matter splattered over Jason’s clothes, Tim’s shoes, the cracks in the alley’s pavement. “How could you—” “What? It’s not like he was going to walk it off or anything.” “We just—” Tim’s stomach churns. It feels like he’s going to be sick. “We just killed a man.” “No, I killed a man.” Jason holsters his gun, then kicks the body in the side for good measure. “You, however, are off the hook.” “What are you talking about? I stabbed him.” The knife is around here somewhere. That’s evidence. Proof of what happened tonight, what Tim did. What Jason finished. “And I shot him in the head. One of those is worse than the other.” “But I—” “No,” Jason snaps. He lowers himself to look Tim in the eyes. “You didn’t. Kill. Anyone. Got it? I killed him. Your slate is still clean.” “There’s a body. Evidence. I still did this.” Jason grabs the bloody knife and tucks it into his jacket. “No, the Red Hood did this. He cornered the guy in an alley, stabbed him, then shot him in the face. That’s what happened.” Tim shakes his head. “You can’t. You can’t take the fall for me.” “I’m not. I’m the one who killed him, right? I’m just taking responsibility for my own actions, which nobody is going to look twice at because this is the third one this week.” Jason takes Tim by the arm, pulling him upright and keeping him steady when he wobbles. “What about Bruce?” “We’ll tell him the truth. That you got attacked by some creep, I killed his slimy ass like he deserved, and then I let you crash at my place for the night to make sure you were safe. That’s it. Understand?” Tim isn’t sure if he does or not. He’s too numb to attempt puzzling it out, but he does know one thing he can say. “Thanks, Jason.” “Don’t mention it. Just try not to puke on me until we get to my place and I’ll call us even.”