#and they give him a gold star sticker

[erinwantstowrite]

will peter be like an older brother to miles in lof ?

absolutely he is

there's about an 11 year difference between them (Miles is 14, Peter is 25), so it's a lot more like the older brother type of relationship that Peter has with Tim (despite Tim being his uncle). Peter has mentored(ish) other young heroes by this point (mostly in the Bats' universe) but since Miles is another Spider-Man, Peter takes up most of the responsibility in making sure Miles is safe and teaching him the ropes. That's HIS sassy child genius, thank you, and he's not a sidekick, he's Spider-Man.

He was also adamant that Miles tell his parents immediately, and gets along great with Rio and Jeff.

Which is HILARIOUS to me because at this point in time, Peter has built up a persona for the public eye just like the Bats did. In Rio and Jeff's eyes, they're gobsmacked that the clumsy, scatterbrained, and "scaredy-cat" kid that Tony Stark adopted a while ago is Spider-Man. (Technically, none of this is a lie. Because Peter is a terrible liar unless it's For the Jokes, and often comes across this way even if he hadn't meant to.) They're wondering how he pulled that off since he's the same age as Spider-Man, who is known to be an Avenger, and associates in the same circles as Peter. It helps that Peter and Spider-Man have been in a social media war, and that Peter works at the Daily Bugle that is known for disliking Spider-Man. Peter's been taking lessons for years atp to keep his identity safe. Which is also bonus points to Peter, because the two can tell that secret identities mean everything to him, but he told them who he was in a heartbeat (literally the very first thing he did when he found Miles).

In other words: Peter was ecstatic to become a teacher for his own matching superhero kid and it's one of the most important bonds in his life. That's his baby brother now!!

[nico-di-genova]

Moments that are completely unrelated and not at all telling of Pato’s character.

Bonus:

Pato’s face after Alex called him a good boy. Which is also entirely unrelated, I’m sure.

[psn-stalling]

then get worse :/

... I don't want to get worse-?

[qveerthe0ry]

My heart is so warm looking at all of these Pedro pics at all of these events. He is truly just having the time of his life meeting all of his peers that he’s such a fan of 🥺

[spookyboywhump]

I see why this kid is everyone’s little skrunkly

[erabundus]

@heikun && said... " Why hello there Ren poopy poopy butt. Did you go with my advice? "

❝  i  haven't  ACTED  on  it  yet,  if  that's  what  you're  wondering.  ❞  there's  an  implied  hypothetically  speaking  somewhere  that  he  doesn't  have  the  energy  to  voice.  he  doesn't  want  to  admit  his  hesitation  stems  from  a  mix  of  uncertainty  and  rigorous  perfectionism.  everything  has  to  go  exactly  according  to  plan  —  yet  the  problem  is,  he  lacks  the  experience  to  formulate  one  that  meets  his  satisfaction.  he  certainly  isn't  going  to  admit  as  much  aloud,  however;  asking  the  human  for  advice  to  begin  with  was  MORTIFYING  enough.  (  quite  frankly,  ren  is  still  trying  to  recover.  )   ❝  i'm  considering  my  options.  ❞  he  says  instead  —  which  is  a  roundabout  way  of  confessing  the  root  of  the  issue  while  still  giving  him  enough  plausible  deniability  to  save  his  ruined  pride.

a  pause.  a  blink.  wait.  wait  just  one  second.

❝  ...  what  the  hell  did  you  just  call  me?  ❞ did he decide to stop plotting shikanoin's demise? he's conveniently forgotten.

[devourerofdoves]

I need. To write more fucked up gorefics of my wife. Or I will die.

[prettiestlovergirl]

GOLD STARS

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; brat!reader; princess!reader; praise kink; overstimulation, oral (m. and f. receiving); fingering; light impact play; p in v sex; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); creampie; dom! luke castellan.

a/n: i had a vision and i was encouraged to see it through by the lovely, lovely bratetteprincess, praise kink girlies rise!!! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

you loved to be praised.

you were a needy, pretty little pillow princess addicted to being praised and worshipped on a daily basis. not that there was anything wrong with that, your boyfriend certainly didn't mind.

luke castellan fucking loved to praise you. he loved to bury his face, hands, cock, anything in-between your smooth thighs and make you see stars. only when you were a good girl, though.

when you were being particularly bratty n spoiled, like you had been the past couple of days, he had to get... creative. after all, he could only fuck you how you wanted when you were a good girl for him.

"princess" luke cooed, leaning against the doorway of your cabin bathroom. he kept one hand behind his back, watching as you hold the mascara wand up to your eye and blinked.

"hmm?" you asked, not bothering to look over at him as she finished applying your mascara. you blinked a couple of times, making sure your mascara didn't smudge on your cheeks.

"i've got a surprise for you." he stated, smirking as that seemed to get your attention instantly. "a surprise? what is it?" you asked, putting the mascara back in the tube and walking up to him.

he chuckled as you walked up to him, interlocking your fingers and looking up at him with your pretty, begging eyes as you waited to see the gift he'd brought you. he pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a pack of 30 gold stars.

"you got me... stickers?" you asked, shoulders slumping as you resisted the urge to pout and roll your eyes at the lackluster surprise. "well, if you don't want them, i guess i can just go give them to someone else" he shrugged, turning to walk away.

"what? no! that's my gift, i want them. now." you demanded, reaching out to grab them before he quickly lifted them over your head. "you want these? you gotta earn em, princess. all you have to do is be a good girl f'me."

and that's what led you to right now.

luke sat on your bed, all of your clothes scattered all over the floor. you knelt down on one of your pretty pink throw pillows, refusing to put your knees on the hardwood floor.

you didn't often give luke head, you much preferred to let him do all the work, but you wanted to prove that you were his good girl. you placed your hands on his thighs and opened your mouth, admiring his red, swollen cock.

you flicked your tongue against his tip, eyes locked on his while he groaned out and gripped the mattress happily. you let out a soft giggle before taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on it and letting your tongue swirl over the slit and collect his precum.

"that's it, baby. now you're being my good girl." he praised, watching as you took more into your mouth and bounced it off the back of your throat. you could feel your panties already dampening at the praise.

he moved his hand up to your hair, gripping it gently as you started to take as much of him into your mouth as you could. he moaned as you started sucking him like your life depended on it, his cock going down your throat again and again.

"c'mon, princess, you can take more than that." he cooed, stroking your hair. he murmured encouragements as he pushed his hips forward, making you take his cock further down until you gagged, and your eyes started to water.

after a moment, he pulled out of your throat, giving you a second to catch your breath, but you worked quickly. your wrapped your hand around his saliva covered cock, instantly starting to pump it while you ducked your head and took his balls into your mouth.

"oh, fuck, yeah, fuck, good girl." he grunted, feeling your tongue flick against his balls before sucking them further into your mouth and just as harsh. "fuck, yes, just like that, you're gonna make me cum, baby." he praised, egging you on further.

you continued to suck until you felt his cock twitch in your hands. you quickly took him back into your mouth, sucking harshly on the tip until his cum spilled into your mouth. "gonna swallow it all f'me?" he asked, watching as you nodded eagerly.

you swallowed everything, not a single drop escaping your lips. "open." he demanded, waiting until you opened your mouth to prove that you swallowed it all. "good girl." he smirked, pulling one of the gold stars off the sheet and pressing the sticker to your cheek.

"up on the bed, baby." luke hummed, helping you stand back up before switching places with you. you laid back on your bed, pulling another pillow with you to help prop you up.

"you did so good for me, baby." he praised, grabbing your left leg and placing kisses from your ankle up to the inside of your thigh before switching and doing the same with your right leg. he kept his eyes on you, watching the way you squirmed impatiently but held your tongue.

"fuck, i am the luckiest man alive." he cooed, tugging your panties down your legs before spreading them wide open. he leaned forward, running his tongue up your soaked center, watching as your cunt fluttered around nothing.

you gasped, whining softly as he slowly eased a finger inside of you. he circled it over and over before another finger joined in, slowly stretching your tight little pussy out while you moaned.

"mm, still so fucking tight for me." he hummed, slipping a third finger inside of you and watching as you threw your head back and moaned out louder.

he latched his tongue onto your clit, lapping at it as he pumped his fingers faster and faster, working in sync until you were nothing but a squirming, moaning mess on the verge of cumming. "luke!" you whined out.

"that's it, baby, i got you. cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over my fingers." he purred, his lips sucking harshly on your clit as your breathing clenched and your core tightened until you finally came on his fingers.

his continued to finger you through your orgasm until your moans turned into more whines and squirming. "clean them off." he commanded, holding his soaked fingers up to your lips while his free hand pulled another sticker off the sheet and pressed it to your boob.

"mm, fuck, luke, i want you to fuck me." you begged, your voice muffled and sloppy as you sucked his fingers clean of your pussy juices. "be patient, baby." he chuckled, pulling his fingers from your lips while you pouted.

he stuffed another pillow underneath you, this time under your hips and lower back, to line you up with him. he placed his tip against your dripping entrance before thrusting in hard and fast.

"fuck!" you squealed, squirming a bit as he began to pump in and out of you, getting stronger and stronger with each thrust. "you're doing so good for me, baby." he praised, pulling out to the tip and ever so slowly inching back in.

"fuck, luke, please!" you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks and ruining your freshly applied mascara. "please... what?" luke teased, inching in just a little more as you whined in distress. "need you to use your words, baby. like a good girl would."

"fuck me! please, luke, please, i'll be such a good girl, the best girl, just please fuck me!" you begged, whimpering until he slammed roughly into you. your back arched instantly in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut.

you felt deliciously full, just how you liked. "there you go, baby, that's it. take every single inch." he cooed, pulling out before thrusting right back in. "you feel so fucking good." he groaned.

he leaned up and wrapped his lips around your un-stickered nipple, sucking on it harshly while you moaned out loudly. "fuck, harder, please!" you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts while he sucked your skin.

"as you wish." he grunted, pulling out and slamming into you even rougher, over and over again, all the way to the hilt while you practically screamed out in pure bliss. you gripped onto your comforter tightly, eyes squeezed shut as you started to clench around his cock.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, luke, 'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" you moaned, mascara-stained tears rolling down your cheeks as he pulled you closer and moved harder and faster into your tightening cunt.

"good girl, cum for me, cum on my thick cock." he cooed, teeth grazing over your nipple as he gave you a few more strategic thrusts until you unraveled around him with a loud scream-like moan. your legs shook as your second orgasm crashed over you, luke continuing to fuck into you.

he thrusted and thrusted until he finally came deep inside of you, pulling out to watch the way your pussy leaked with his cum. "fuck, your pussy just looks so pretty like this." he smirked, watching the way your body sagged against the pillow.

he pulled another star off the sheet, pressing it to your core with a chuckle while you rubbed your hand over your chest to try and catch your breath.

he smirked as he lightly smacked your clit, watching the way you jolted in surprise and whined out. "luke!" you huffed, sitting up on your elbows as your body already started to ache from the sudden jump.

"'m sorry, princess. let me make it up to you." he hummed, a devilish grin on his face as he sunk down to his knees. "luke..." you warned, tone suspicious as you watched him sink down onto the pillow you'd previously left.

you'd been about to say more when you felt his teeth sink harshly into your inner thigh, making you gasp and squeal out loudly. "fuck, luke!" you gasped, making him chuckle as he ran his tongue over the bruising skin.

"was an accident, princess. slipped." he lied before bringing his fingers up to spread open your pussy lips. you whimpered at the touch, an even louder whine escaping your lips as he pushed his tongue past your swollen, puffy walls.

"luke, 's too much, too much!" you whined, a sob escaping your lips as his tongue gently fucked your sensitive hole. your body writhed underneath his grip but he didn't stop, continuing to tongue fuck you.

"c'mon, i know you can give me one more. be a good girl and give me one more. he knew it was okay to keep going because you hadn't used the safe word. he flicked his tongue against your clit, dragging another cry from your lips before he delves it back into your pussy.

this went on and on until your cunt started to clench again. "that's it, cum for me mamas." he hummed, the vibrations sending you right back over the edge as you came all over his tongue and chin.

he lapped up your pussy juices, groaning softly at the taste he loved so much. he continued to drag his tongue through your folds until your hands practically shoved him off.

"you did so good f'me, princess." he praised, grabbing one final sticker and placing it in the center of your slowly bruising thigh. he pressed a quick kiss to it, watching as your body stayed slumped down with exhaustion.

"lets run you a bath now, huh?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Patience

Thomas Disch: neil in the good omens game, is there a way to escape the dungeon without using the wizard's key? Neil Gaiman: ah! a very good question! Clive Barker: what? that's a terrible question Gaiman: ah but there are NO bad questions, clive Gaiman: curiosity is the rain that waters the seed of knowledge

Debbie Dadey: um excuse me sir neil gaiman but in Good Omens S2E42 aziraphale is shown performing the musubi dachi stance, but everyone knows that angels don't know karate Dadey:[pushing glasses up nose] i sure hope someone was fired for THAT blunder Gaiman: ah! a fine observation, thank you for sharing! Gaiman: so great to communicate with astute readers!

Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Dadey's forehead] i'm giving you a gold star for that Gaiman: in fact Gaiman: you all get gold stars! Koontz: oo! i want a gold star Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Koontz's forehead] and so you shall!

King: incredible! nothing flusters him! Poe: he's unflappable King: like the world's most patient kindergarten teacher Barker: no way, i don't buy it Barker: nobody's THAT patient Barker: i bet i could get him to snap Poe: clive

Barker: hey neil i've got a question Gaiman: yes? Barker: actually Barker:this is more of a comment than a question Gaiman: [sweating, veins in neck pulsing] ah yes, go on Poe: clive that's going too far

Neil Gaiman: you see dean Gaiman: you can see anything, do anything Gaiman: BE anything Gaiman: without ever leaving home! Dean Koontz: wowwww Gaiman: all you have to do is use your super power Koontz: my super power?? Gaiman: yes Gaiman: it's called Gaiman: IMAGINATION!!

Ray Bradbury: it was many years yonder when the open spaces were open and the blue skies were blue, and soda pop cost just a nickel and if you didn't have a nickel a smile would do, when you could see marshmallow dragons and candy corn castles in the clouds and you could do it all with the power of Dean Koontz: oh yeah imagination, i already know that Bradbury: and- what Koontz: yeah, neil gaiman told me Bradbury:

Ray Bradbury: listen neil i hear you've been going around extolling the power of imagination Neil Gaiman: ah imagination! the poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release- Bradbury: zip it bud Bradbury: there's ONE dream weaver in this town and that's me Bradbury: the limitless vista of a child's imagination ain't big enough for the both of us!!!

Bradbury: i have more child-like whimsy in my little finger, gaiman! Bradbury: and i will use it to paint a rainbow of nostalgic vibes that will have you crying! Bradbury: come at me, neil!! i'll make your childhood fuckin' magical!

Gaiman: wonderful, brilliant! just an excellent threat Gaiman: the craftsmanship of it was sublime, you should be very proud, ray Bradbury: Bradbury: are you Bradbury: are you being sarcastic? Poe: i don't think he knows how

Bradbury: you're so genuine, i can't stay mad at you Gaiman: perhaps, ray, there is room in the world of imagination for the both of us Gaiman: in fact, maybe there's room for ALL who seek to fly on the wings of a shared dream!

[ninthcircleofprythian]

GOLD STAR FOR YOU

Acotar Crack Headcanons

In which Reader introduces gold star stickers in the bedroom. Reader x everybody. Poly type deal. And it is most definitely a competition. There are sticker charts. Gold prize - for the male with the most stickers? A week alone with reader. No interruptions. No sharing.

(This crack list is brought you especially by the shared brain rot with @chairofchaos . Please enjoy our devolution into smut headcanons that tonight has brought us.)

Azriel:

Confused at first

When he realizes he’d be SO into the competition element

So competitive

“How many does this get me” as he’s just pounding

“And this?”

It devolves because you stop being able to give him stickers

“What about this, baby? What if you can’t walk tomorrow? How many stickers do I get then?”

You can’t do a damn thing about it as the sticker sheets fall from your hand

But when you’re done

The two of you curled up together

You take the whole sheet and start giving him stickers, one by one

He’s smirking as you line them up in rows along his chest and arms

Then you finally put one on his nose, grinning as you recall the feeling of his head between your legs

“It was that good, huh? Maybe we’d better try to one up ourselves. See how many stickers I earn from you then.”

Helion:

Catches on quickly

He goes out that day to buy his own sticker sheets

Likes to give them to you too

Gives himself gold stars for how often he can make you moan

“Yep… that’s another one FOR ME”

Gives zero fucks about the overall competition

He just likes being in competition with himself

Puts the stickers on his nipples like pasties with a shit eating grin

Eris:

You reach back to place a sticker on his thigh

He stills immediately

When you explain it, he’s so hurt about being interrupted

“What the fuck? What is this childish game?”

“Do not place your shiny sticker on me, woman.”

“I am doing sexy things here – leave me be”

He peels it off his thigh, sticks it on the small of your back and keeps going

He still kisses the star when he’s done

“So the stickers are a no?”

He’d sigh and kiss your forehead

“Just tell me first next time. I don’t like surprises.”

Cassian:

Has monkey brain - is super into it

“STICKERS? SAY LESS”

Adds his own prizes to the mix

Is competitive but really just cares about making you feel GOOD

The stickers and prizes are just a bonus.

Walks around shirtless just to show off his stickers

“These are my rewards! Don't you like them?”

He has a sticker chart on the back of the bathroom door where he collects his stickers at the end of each day.

Eventually he just starts sticking them to random things around the house - mirrors, his daggers, the kitchen cabinets.

Lucien:

You give him a sticker on the forehead during oral

his little mechanical eye like gleams at you as he SMIRKS

he’s like 'hmm what's this?"

He takes one off the sheet and does his little smirk and the star just GLOWS

he sticks it on you down there

because he LOVES TO EAT

gives a little predatory grin as he crawls over you to move to the next thing

Tamlin:

Gets distracted by you placing the sticker on his shoulder

Pauses mid thrust

“No no dont stop”

“What… what is that?”

“It’s a sticker. You’re doing a good job. Keep going”

“... what?”

He’s so confused

He doesn’t keep moving

You take the sticker back - “You stopped moving. You stop. You lose the sticker.”

He does NOT like the stickers

“Please put them away.”

He’s very butthurt over losing his only sticker

Immediately flaccid

Rhys:

Isn’t a part of the competition

That male is interested in Feyre and Feyre ONLY

Hears about the competition from Azriel

Immediately goes to Feyre

“We need to buy gold star stickers.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, Darling. Gold. Stickers.”

Your next visit to the river house becomes an adventure of finding all the places where the two of them left stickers while Rhys grins and Feyre rolls her eyes with a laugh

Your favorite find is under the tablecloth, where it’s next to a golden paint smear

“We recreated our mating night for the anniversary,” Rhys whispers to Cassian conspiratorially

He’s intentionally loud enough for all of you to hear

He doesn’t really understand the rules 

He just likes the idea of putting the stickers everywhere him and Feyre fucked so he can show off.

[ckret2]

@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

[terrifiedlimechime]

RELATIVITY FALLS!

basically: gravity falls but the stan twins are kids and mabel and dipper are the adults in the plot of gravity falls

as well as that, I wanted to switch the villians. Bill is human and takes the place of gideon, and instead of obsessing over mabel he pursues ford (he's twelve as well lol. BILLFORD FOREVER!!!)

whereas gideon takes the place of bill, a chaos god (maybe i'll make him the shape of the star on his telepathy tent instead of a triangle, or I might tweak his human design a bit, idrk) who's obsessed with mabel.

people always put dipper in the place of ford (in the portal) bc he's a nerd, but to suit the switch of villans, mabel is getting sucked into the multiverse!

I like to think she got lulled into a false sense of security with gideon like in the show in the same way ford was with bill, but with fashion instead of science. (like when their still friends w lil gid and gideon brings her to get her nails n stuff done)

so in my au mabel is very into fashion the same way ford is into science, a prodigy with a insane talent for knitting, sowing, design, the whole shabang

while dipper is similar to the usual show, nerdy sci-fi obsessed wise guy but nothing too crazy

but together mabel and dipper solved mysteries in california together and someday dream of becoming "the mystery twins" and searching (in parallel to the stans) on a hot air balloon/ plane/ something sky related

but mabel gets offered a place in a big league fashion school, and they're going to come and see her project for the school fashion fair

dipper (like stan) is disgruntled by the dress interrupting their dreams and future together (parallel to dipper and mabel vs to the show. kind of)  and puts his hands on the dress angrily without thinking, staining the dress with his sweaty palms (like how stan is in the show, and how ford described him in journal three: "an abnormally sweaty 12 year old....perhaps he takes after stanley")

when the fashion gurus or whatever show up to see mabels design, they see the prints and dimiss her, ruining her chance at getting into her dream school. seeing the sweaty hand marks, thinks immediately of her brother, confronts him, the same as the scene in a tale of two stans essentially

d: "i...mabel, maybe this isnt all bad...at least we can go...be the mystery twins?"

m: "how could you say that?! why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my future!"

so where does mabel go to college? you (probably) guessed it...backupsmore!

she begins a degree...yadayada, smart people stuff, clever references to the original show, blah blah blah, goes to college with candy and grenda (they take the place of mcgucket)

annnnd now a scene I over thought way too much) all her life, mabel had been teased for her crooked teeth, her messy hair, her stickers and glitter everywhere...etc, and she grew fascinated with beauty in imperfection, the whole maximalism, out of the ordinary/norms of fashion (the ford deciding to study abnormalities bc of his six fingers scenece is so important to me for no reason)

she grew curious of a certain place where the impossible seemed possible...

gravity falls! (how surprising)

and what, my dear reader, was our main man dipper up to?

well, much like stan, he struck gold in sales. or...selling by yourself anyway, as he'd been trying to selling his scifi abnormality comics, board games, fact books/ something like that bro. he was smart-ish, giving lectures ab science-y stuff in different colleges, not happy at all and js about providing for himself. he misses mabel...alot.

over with mabel, she's experimenting with the weirdness of gravity falls, enjoying it all with her friend, gideon! (spoiler alert: he sucks)

but at the end of the day...what is she waiting for? she can't just...be good....she has to remembered! to be put down history as...one of the greatest designers of all time! heck...what is she even working for if not to be put down in history? what has she studied for? she has to round of her studies with a bang!

luckily gideon has a few ideas...

g: you see...what if...you built a portal to another dimension? has any designer ever done that before? sent their models and crew to another universe? think...how you'd go down...the most revolutionary name in fashion! you'd be leading fashion AND science!"

(tw: this is a trick on gideons part lol)

mabel enlists the help of candy and grenda, blablabla whatever...mcgucket/ford situation all over again, someone sees the nightmare realm, traumatised forever, yadayada, mabel goes insane bc gideon is "less than nice..." (can you tell I'm getting lazy lmao)

dipper is just ab scraping by, making money by doing lectures and the like, hopping state each time he loses a job with a new name so he can work for another prestigious college w out the track record and trying to publish his scifi silly novel thingy when he gets a post card through the door of his motel:

°•.GRAVITY FALLS.•°

please come, -mabel

dipper makes his way to gravity falls, where mabel is immediately suspicious of him, checking his eyes to see if he's possessed, barbed grappling hook ready to shoot and looking very much like a crazed scientist rather then a fashion designer, and perhaps that's what she's become, moulded under gideons hand

she interrogates him, similarly to how ford interrogated stan:

m: *grappling hook ready to shoot* "HEY! WHO ARE YOU? HAVE YOU COME TO STEAL MY EYES?-"

d: "weird way to say welcome in, mabel"

hurring him in, she checks his eyes, lalalalala...mabel promptly shows him the third journal, branded with a shooting star.

m: "it's.. I don't know enough about science...me and candy, grenda, we started, i've put my heart and soul into these, dipper, but he needs them, and he can't have them, never...if he does..."

d: "god, mabel, I always knew you were crazy, but this is a whole new level. I thought you came here for fashion?"

blabla, backstory explanation to eachother (im this 🤏 close to giving up) when mabel pops the big question

m: "remember our plans...the mystery twins, adventuring in the skies, on a plane?"

dipper is really excited, this is the moment, all this science stuff, it was preparation for-

m: "get on a plane, fly as FAR away from here as possible, to the ends of the earth, and hide the journal-"

d: "wait...that's IT? I finally see you for the first time in YEARS and the first thing you want me to do is get as far away from you as possible?"

m: "listen-"

d: "no, YOU LISTEN. im excited to see my sister after a decade and you want me out of your sight? im just about scraping by while you're living it up in your fancy house in the woods doing fashion-glam shit! you think you've got it bad? i've got a MULLET, mabel! im trying my best to survive while you're all cushy in the woods-"

m: "you don't know what I've been through!-"

d: "what YOU'VE been through? I've lost my job in SEVERAL different states, while you're selfishly hoarding your college money-"

m: "ME? SELFISH? how could you say that after costing me my DREAM SCHOOL?

a bit more squabbling, basically the scene in a tale of two stans. in this au dipper isn't born with his big dipper mark on his forehead, rather he gets it burned onto his forehead the way stan gets his tattoo, mabel pauses, "im so sorry dipper-" gets pushed, the portal starts turning on, dipper pushes her away.

d: "tch, "mystery twins." how could I be so stupid? here's a simple mystery; why did mabel's brother travel four hours to roadkill oregon for her? because he thought his sister CARED for him. wanted to see him, even. possibly because he missed her. but dont worry, it wont happen again. some sister you turned out to be."

he does the whole push into the portal, ahhh mabel come back, oh no what have i done thingy. he immediately tries to opperate it, fails, blablabla. when he realises shes gone and not coming back, he screams, for a minute, half an hour, an hour, he doesn't know, he just cant do anything else.

doesn't sleep. for a long time. he doesn't really move off the couch, actually. he eats so he doesn't faint. or sleep. he doesn't go anywhere so he doesn't have to fix himself up or wash, because he feels he doesn't deserve the luxury of self care or nice food or comfort or rest. but eventually the food runs out and he decides he can't die without bringing back his sister.

at the shop, it's the same scene as with stan, "oooh smart science-y fashion person, do u give tours?" he has no money so he has to, it's shit at first but improves over time and so the mystery shack is born.

as much as dipper always loved the supernatural, he decides that he doesn't want another run in with the portal/ paranormal accident so all the attractions are fake. dipper is just as stressed and unhappy as before, but the tight clockwork of his life keeps him together. make money with the shack, save mabel. that's all that's keeping him here.

until the stan twins show up!

[sohnric]

gold stars – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: friends (idiots) to lovers au. fluff. a sprinkle of hurt/comfort in some parts, a hint of college au!!

wc: 9.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mention of toxic family behaviors, a joke about a praise kink. eric is an embarrassing loserboy but i love him sm

listen to: risk by gracie abrams

where everything eric sohn does is search for your approval, and where you reward him with a gold star sticker for every act of kindness. will you ever see him as more than just a friend?

a/n: thank you best friend @csenke for beta reading as always (i miss you deeply btw</33). also thank you @from-izzy for brainstorming with me and listening to me while i gushed about this silly fic idea. thanks @strayed-quokka lennon for giving me eric's insta username idea i will keep using it from now on in all fics AHAHA TT

If Eric was asked to pinpoint the exact moment where he started to rely on your validation, he wouldn’t really be sure of his answer. The truth is, somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knows the yearning has been there ever since he can remember, but the instance that is rooted in his memory as the core one– the one that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like a teenager in love for the first time (which he wasn’t! Nor a teenager, not in love for the first time… right..?) – was one Thursday afternoon after he came home from taking his last exam of the semester to find a message from you waiting in his Instagram DMs. 

Breathlessly clicking at the notification (and now, this should’ve been a sign of his growing feelings for you), he is welcomed with the sight of you sharing a post with him. Wholesome, but still a little silly, a picture of a yellow star poorly drawn onto a white background waves at him, the words ‘congratulation the stress didnt abolsultly kill u’ written in the Comic Sans font on the inside, making him giggle. Despite the typos and the poor grammar, his heart squeezes on itself, shaking his head at your adorable antics as he shoots you a quick message as a thank you. You’ve been helping him with the studies for the last couple of weeks (if constantly yelling out “you will murder this exam, Sohn’ and laughing at his miserable face counts as support), so it’s even more heartwarming to see his friend still be so supportive of him even after the hell already ended.

@ damnsohn [5:11 PM]: thank u i will now need to receive gold stars for everything tho

And see, he wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. He just needed to convey his gratitude without sounding too overly eager– without sounding too infatuated with your sheer existence and the validation of his efforts. (Failed)

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually follow up on his request. 

To make things even better, you pulled through with physical reminders. The poorly drawn golden star landing into his Instagram DMs was just the start of the habit you fall into with Eric Sohn, the man whose love language is words of affirmation– without him even realizing it. And so, what started out as a wholesome, innocent joke, now turned into a recurring thing that is slowly, but surely making the boy go absolutely insane.

The first time he receives a physical golden star sticker is one day when he comes over to your place to watch a movie with you. You made a list full of iconic films you haven’t seen before– a list you get clowned for at first dates with any man that is pretentious enough to talk about his love for Quentin Tarantino (Eric told you to stop going on dates with the aesthetic, ‘indie’ looking men you find on Tinder) – and little by little, you try to get through it with the help of the rest of your friend group. Since everyone gets bored easily of mediocre films they’ve seen before, Eric is the one that spends the majority of movie nights with you– and that’s only because he’s the only one that doesn’t mind watching the Titanic for the fifth time already, if it means he can spend some time with you.

“You brought popcorn?” you gasp upon his arrival, gazing at the plastic bag in his hold, eyes big and full of stars– one would say you were looking at your first love. You weren’t– it was just a salty treat. Isn’t that every girl’s first love, though?

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Pre-popped?” 

“Pre-popped,” he agrees as he takes off his shoes behind the door, watching as you jump up and down in excitement, taking the big bag out of his hands.

“I like it pre-popped the best, oh my god,” you hum, hugging the huge bag like it’s a teddy bear, going as far as pushing your cheek against it, making your face turn into an adorable pout. “They are a little stale and softer and–”

“And the salt is really settled into it’, yeah, I know, Y/N,” he snickers, finishing the sentence he’s heard you say about a million times already– he starts to wonder if you have short-term memory loss and don’t remember telling him every time you walk by the cinema. (And that’s a lot of times, since Sunwoo’s dad owns the place. Sometimes, Sunwoo makes Eric be his own delivery man– he would deny on most occasions, but ever since he learned that bringing Sunwoo his lunch to work means he can take home a bag of cinema popcorn, the one that admittedly, always tastes the best, he doesn’t complain much– he can use the stale bag as a leverage to make you do about anything.)

“Oh man,” you sigh, “aren’t you a dream. I was going to wait for a more serious occasion, but wait, let me just–” you say, running quickly into your room. Eric doesn’t question your antics, figuring out that he will know the reason for your disappearance soon enough anyway, and allows himself into the living room. Two cans of coca cola and a chocolate bar are already waiting on the coffee table, alongside the TV remote, and while he passes the couch and opens one of your kitchen cabinets to fish for a bowl to put the popcorn in, he hears your socked feet rumble against the floor, announcing your arrival.

Once he takes the big bowl he’s sure he’s seen you puke in before after a wild night out and settles it onto the kitchen counter, the bag of popcorn comes back into his view as you lazily throw it into the white plastic, still closed and sealed, waiting to be opened. As his hands move and go to rip it open, meaning to pour the snack in so you two can share while you watch the next movie on your list– which, just for the record, Eric never asks the title of before, afraid it might make him less excited for the movie night– you put something onto the back of his hand, giggling.

Eric curiously stops his movements, gazing at his own skin. There, shiny and glittery, is a sticker attached to his limb– a yellow star sticker, to be exact, making him look at you with a dumbfounded look, eyebrows furrowed, but lips still sealed into a wide grin.

“That’s a gold star for remembering my favorite snack,” you point, flicking his forehead as a way of swatting him away from you so you can open the bag yourself, “and for bringing it.”

When Eric doesn’t give you any coherent reply– despite his brain operating on a thousand miles per hour, thoughts just swirling around and silencing any rational words– you only laugh at his face, your nose scrunching in that adorable way that makes him want to reach over and squish both of your cheeks in between his fingers, crying out. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so serious about this,” you sigh, snickering. Eric was going to bring up the fact that you were the one serious enough about the sentiment to buy a full roll of star stickers to give him on various occasions, some more serious than others, but he kept his silence in fear of getting this advantage taken away from him. He doesn’t think he’d survive it. “If you manage to not eat the entire bowl before the movie starts, I’ll give you another one. Come on,” you call for him, body already disappearing back into the living room.

Eric follows you like a lost puppy. If he had a tail, at this moment, he would’ve been waggling it. After he drops to the sofa, he notices the movie paused on the TV in front of him to be none other than Dirty dancing. With a sigh, he recognises that he’s seen it about five times already with his mother and sister, and so he spends the hour and a half gazing at the star on his hand instead.

The next few stars he receives are gifts of a similar manner. Half-serious, but still enough to make Eric’s heart leap in his chest at your recognition.

One day, he says a joke in the middle of the conversation that nobody really appreciates. And see, it’s not really unexpected– he was already aware that his friend group doesn’t appreciate good humor– but the dead silence he receives after the lame joke still makes him feel kind of awkward. That’s only until he is greeted with the sound of your muffled chuckle, though– which is of amusement at the situation, and not his joke, just for the record– and the sight of you ruffling around your pockets. You take a roll of stickers out of your jean jacket, and before he knows it, a star sticker is glued onto his phone case, right in the corner of his phone laying screen down on the table. 

“A gold star for trying,” you hum, making the rest of the group holler out a laugh at the casual bullying, “not as bad as last time, keep it up, buddy.”

Eric gets red in his cheeks. When he looks up from the dark wood of the dinner table, he is met with the sight of Sunwoo and Juyeon looking at him with shit-eating grins on his faces, wiggling their eyebrows at the very obvious reaction Eric has at the half-assed praise. The boy wonders if you’re the only one that hasn’t noticed yet, or if you just don’t really care about the effect you have on him. The star sticker stays glued to his phone case at all times, though, even when it’s worn-down and peeling off at the edges.

Another gold star is won from you one day when the semester starts again and you two meet up in the library, working on your respective essays. Each of you major in a different thing, so there is not much actual help shared other than underlying emotional support, and despite the coffee Eric brings you upon his arrival and the bag of chips resting on the table waiting for you to munch on them, which you refuse to touch before you finish a segment of your essay to ‘motivate yourself’, as you say, he can see you’re still a bit stressed out.

The suspicion is only proven to be true when he speaks up suddenly, lost in thought and a little overwhelmed himself. “How do you spell ‘accommodate’?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

He now admits that it’s a stupid question to ask, but somehow, getting advice from you is much easier than looking it up himself, or simply writing the word down to let Google docs do the editing. The answer you give him is short, sharp, and the tone of your voice stings the boy the tiniest bit. “Are you 5 years old, or something?”

“I–”

“I’m in the middle of writing an important paragraph, Eric, just Google it–”

“Jeez, okay,” he hums, rolling his eyes at your snappy composure. When your eyes meet only two seconds after, you look a little guilty. You say nothing, though, only continuing to focus on your essay– and Eric does the same, for the most part. (While he also tries to take his mind off the fact that you might think he’s a little bit stupid. You are a STEM major, after all– he’s the one studying media.)

After a while of typing away on your computer, though, you look at him with big eyes, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The subtle nerves and desperation in your face are enough to leave the man weak in his knees, and even though he’d like to reply to you in a similar manner to show you his disapproval with your previous tone, he can’t find it in himself to ever reject you as you mumble out a soft: “Switch?” having the man instantly nod, offering you his laptop.

This is standard practice for the two of you. While he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about in your essays– for all he knows, you could be pulling everything out of your ass– he enjoys reading the words you’ve written. You two often work on your essays together and switch from time to time to reread what the other one has so far– on a lookout for wrong word order, grammar, or anything sounding weird. It’s hard to rationally evaluate your work and find flaws in it after spending hours and hours on it, your brain desensitized to the content you’re writing. Having a helping pair of eyes is always for the better.

When the both of you are done and you switch the laptops back, there’s a gold sticker smiling back at him from the device settled right next to the Kirby sticker you’ve given him once after hearing him gushing about the game one night (Yes, he was tipsy and sentimental). He didn’t even notice you putting it on, and when he looks up at you with questioning eyes, you shrug at him, averting eye contact.

“A gold star for spelling ‘accommodate’ right,” you say, making the boy roll his eyes, snickering.

He doesn’t really question you further. Just the star sticker is enough for him now, if he’s being totally honest– even as unserious as they come. Had he pried more, though, maybe he’d find out that the gold star wasn’t just the prize for his spelling– but also for his patience and silent support he’s been sending you every single day. 

And so, the habit preserves itself at first in a joking, half-serious manner. A gold star sticker for him when he reminds you to water your plants (‘for having a good memory’). A gold sticker for him when he carries you home on his back after you get too drunk at the bar with your friends (‘for having strong muscles’). A star sticker for him when he picks you up after work and drives you home (‘for having a cool car’). Another one when he cooks you ramen when you’re sick and don’t have enough energy to make yourself something warm for dinner (‘for being a 5* Michelin cook’). For his birthday, alongside with other things, you give him a strip of the gold star stickers, 5 in a row all next to each other– ‘for bearing the old age well’. He’s not even that much older than you in the first place, but he takes the external validation and praise with open arms, not really dwelling deeper into the sentiment underlying your joking, unserious reasonings. 

He doesn’t really realize the stickers were a sign of gratitude for the fact that he listens to you and remembers what you have to say– not for having a good memory. They are for taking care of you on your lowest– not for having strong arms and a ‘fat ass’. They are a wordless thank you for his acts of service and protection of you, not for having a cool car and getting his driver’s license– although, the pride is the common undertone in some of the gold stars you give him. You give him gold stars on his birthday to tell him you’re proud of the man he’s growing into, not to make fun of him growing old. The boy is just too oblivious to realize it, it seems.

Some days are more difficult than others, though, and that’s when your star stickers gain more value and seriousness. 

The day after he has a family reunion with the distant relatives that always pry too much into his business– ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’, ‘What will you end up doing with that useless degree of yours?’, ‘Do you still share a flat with that friend of yours? What about getting your own place?’ – he is met with the sight of you waiting for him after class, on one of the bean bags outside of the lecture room. His department is a solid 20 minute walk away from yours, so the sight of you there surprises him, but the shock is only intensified when you call him over with a wave of your hand and present him with a pack of M&M’s with a gold star stuck to the packaging.

“What’s that for?” he says, but opens the candy nonetheless. After he takes a few into his mouth, he offers you some– to which you shake your head and shrug.

“For being the coolest one out of your family,” you say close to his ear, like it’s a secret, before you ruffle his hair and stand up from the bean bag, strutting towards the exit. “Come on, I have beer over at my place. You can come over and rant about them being stupid, if you want.”

Eric smiles at your sincerity. Trying hard to tame his hair back into place, he follows you with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, and even though he’d love to finish the candy you’ve given him, he forces himself to leave at least three pieces inside of the bag, saving it for later– just so he can keep holding on to the star-adorning wrapper for some more.

One day is particularly hard for the boy as he locks himself out of the apartment, having to wait for his roommate Jake to come back from his hometown the other day, leaving him no place to stay– before you invite him over and force him to sleep over on the couch. You can tell there is something more bugging him, though– and so you push the boy for answers.

“What’s up? Locking yourself out is not the end of the world, y’know,” you say, trying to lighten up the situation.

Eric looks at you with tired eyes, shrugging. Truth be told, his mood has been gradually falling over the last couple of days– this incident was just what really tipped him over the edge and nudged him closer to a nervous breakdown. He’s been overwhelmed with work (too many people having high expectations of him that he is scared he cannot meet), with school (too many assignments he is afraid he can’t manage to get done in time) and also with his family constantly being at his neck about everything he does and chooses for his future– only fueling the burning pit of anxiety and insecurity crawling outside of the big hole inside of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” still, he notes. “I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time, really, ‘s all.”

You answer him with a slight pout of your lips, a saddened expression taking over your face. There is sympathy oozing off your presence, and Eric can’t tell if he dislikes it, or yearns too much for your caring words and gentle encouragement. He can’t tell if it’s natural or pathetic, to want, to need your compliments and validation so much– or if he’s just fallen into a hole he can’t crawl back out of, too hungry after every bit of your attention. You’ve completely enchanted the boy, made his heart both soft and erratically running whenever you’re around, and the things he constantly does for you are not only because he wants you to tell him he’s doing well, but also because he wants you to think of him as someone that you can lean on. He wants you to think of him as someone good enough for you. 

Today, though, maybe he just needs a bit of validation. Maybe he just selfishly strives for your encouragement. It’s okay to just want to be loved on from time to time, no?

You coo, taking a seat next to him on the sofa you’ve spent countless movie nights on together, slotted side by side. Eric plays with his fingers in his lap, a heavy cloud hanging over his face. You know your friend isn’t really good at talking about his emotions– something akin to a mental block inside of him preventing him from ever fully opening up– but despite it all, it seems like he’s completely see-through in your eyes, handling you all the unspoken words on a silver platter. You know him too well.

“You’re doing well, Eric. Don’t let the doubts get into your head, yeah?” you hum, meeting eyes with the boy. 

“Am I, though?” 

The face you give him is stern, acting upset with him. “Of course you are! Stop saying that,” you shake your head at him, sighing when he doesn’t comply with your hard love. After a heartbeat of silence, you turn your head away from him and face the turned-off TV, instinctively wrapping your arm around the boy first, tucking him to your side, before you cradle his head and move it so it sits in the crook of your shoulder. 

Patting his hair, ruffling it and gently playing with the strands before you move to scratch on his scalp, the actions all unarm the poor boy. He almost feels like he could cry and fall apart right there in front of you, right there in your hold, but his pride is oftentimes bigger than his need to let it all out– so he just stares ahead of him, teething at his bottom lip in silence.

After a moment, you rustle around your pocket with your free hand, seemingly searching for something. Eric watches you with curious eyes, big eyes reminiscent of ponds of water waiting to overflow when you take out a strip of star stickers from the inside of your sweatpants, gently taking one of them and sticking the golden star onto the fabric of his pants, right on his knee, before patting it affectionately.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s glad you don’t mention it.

“Just in general,” you shrug, hand coming back up to play with his hair, “a gold star because I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of, though..?”

“Of course there is!” you argue, raising your voice at him. He doesn’t make much effort to show you that he agrees or understands your point, so you gently take his hand into yours and wave it around in mock-joy– although you’re kind of serious about the sentiment. “Proud of you, because you’re alive and surviving! Yay!”

Eric snorts. It’s not enough to cure his mood completely, but it warms his heart up enough to make him forget about his tears.

“Do you just carry these on you at all times?” he asks, pointing towards the sticker on his leg.

“You never know when you need them,” you innocently agree. After your continuous doting, the boy finds himself falling asleep on your shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a blanket thrown over his body he didn’t see in the room before, and he feels a thousand times better.

So far, Eric’s never asked for the gold star stickers. They always come to him by your initiative– and although he has to admit that sometimes he does stuff for you and expects a reward for it (in the form of the sticker, of course) – he never once begged to receive one himself. Sometimes, you surprise him. Sometimes, it’s obvious there is one coming– like after he helps you send out your psychology survey to every single person he knows (and he knows a lot of them. He is a born extrovert, after all.). 

Much like the day of his football match. 

He’s not really the biggest fan of the sport– he much prefers baseball, but his university no longer has a baseball team and he needs to get additional credit somehow– but when you add up the fact that it makes him popular with the fact that he ends up spending time playing around the field with his friends and over the course of the season gets actually better at the sport the more he practices, it’s not as bad as he expected.

The last match of the season turned out well– with their team winning– and although Eric wasn’t the one in charge of the winning goal (damn Kim Sunwoo and Jake Sim for collectively beating him to the victory), he was still ecstatic about the whole thing. After celebrating with his teammates, dubbing them up and screaming in victory, his eyes scan the crowd to find the rest of his friend group that he knows is there, watching him and Sunwoo play. (In reality, he’s just looking for you– he won’t admit that out loud, though.)

Running up to you with sparkles in his eyes, he watches as you cheer on your other friend, Sunwoo, when he beats him to the bleachers. (Not cool of him, if you ask Eric. His crush is literally right there.)

The taller boy enthusiastically talks about the match– as if you, Jihoon, Ryujin and Jay haven’t been on the bleachers the whole time, watching– and after a while, Eric hears your enthusiastic praise aimed towards his best friend, making his blood turn green in envy.

“Yo, that goal was so good, though!” you gush, patting Sunwoo on the shoulder.

“I know, right? Jake passed the ball to me in the perfect time, that other guy couldn’t even register what was happening,” he boosts, grinning to himself.

All attention is drawn on Kim Sunwoo, and Eric doesn’t like it. Not when it’s your attention we’re talking about. He doesn’t care if the whole university drools over the handsome fire sign (as if he doesn’t have a girlfriend anyway– although Eric is still surprised by the fact, after the way he treated the part-timer at his father’s movie theater in the first few weeks of their acquaintance). Believe me, Eric is completely content standing in the shadow whenever someone gushes about Kim Sunwoo, the star player of the team– until you’re involved, of course.

So, he sulks. And it’s apparent– or at least he thinks so. It doesn’t seem to clock in with any of his friends, though, as they all walk away from the football field, aiming to celebrate together in the cheap restaurant downtown. Eric walks behind the group like a lost puppy, and it takes exactly 5 minutes and 35 seconds (not that he’s counting) for you to finally notice the absence of his lame jokes and loud comments to just about everything.

“What’s up?” you ask when you trail behind the group to join his side, laughing at the pout on his face. “You look like you just lost the match. Which you didn’t. Not sure if you caught that…” you joke, bumping your hips with him.

“Well, you seem to be acting like it,” he comments, his words leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Huh?” you ask, genuine confusion tinting your expression. “We’re literally going to celebrate, I don’t get what you– is this because you want that stupid star sticker?” you cut yourself off mid-sentence, the boy already too readable to you after so much time.

Eric gasps in shock. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of mentioning it so openly to you, but to be called out like this surely wasn’t on the list. He feels heat rising to his cheeks with lightning speed, his eyes averting your gaze in the instant. Maybe the voices inside of his head were right. Maybe he is embarrassing.

“Well,” he shrugs, only digging the hole under himself deeper, “did I not do well too?” he mutters under his breath, the humiliation fully settling into his bones after you laugh straight at his face.

“Wow…” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “If I knew I was fueling your praise kink this much with the stickers, I would’ve stopped a long time ago–”

“I don’t have a praise kink–” he screams, battling you as you suddenly scramble after him with the sticker on your finger, waiting to be plastered somewhere onto his figure. He’s sure the whole commotion heard his poor attempt at defending himself, but he’s not willing to back down without a fight– anything to prove that he doesn’t depend on the stickers as much as one would think. He doesn’t want the sticker anymore. He doesn’t need it.

As you fight him and womanhandle him on the street, though, hands all over him, trying to get close as he desperately tries to push you away and fight the allegations, he finds himself unarmed when you get in close proximity of his body, pushing him against the wall. He’s sure he has more muscle power than you do, but the mental power in him is lacking– he just can’t make himself push you away from him. Your face is close to his, your breathing tickling his nose. His heart is stammering hard against his chest, your hands still clutching his wrists against the wall, making him feel like a horny teenager. His breathing is heavy– he doesn’t think he’s done much physical labor, though?

Before he has a chance to collect himself and physically unglue his eyes off your lips– glossy and pink, inviting him in– you make the boy’s brain short circuit even further when you lean close to his ear, whispering so no one else can hear.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

You know just which buttons to push. Maybe you’re a bit sadistic– with how knowledgeable you are of his feelings, but of how much you’re enjoying him being completely oblivious to the fact that you’re aware. You have him at your mercy, all yours to keep, his heart all yours to play with and scan in the palm of your hands.

A star sticker is pressed into the skin below his ear, right at the pulse point. With that, you unstick yourself from the boy, running back to the rest of the group. It takes Eric a moment to collect himself enough to rejoin his friends– so much he has to run (which is good, in hindsight– at least he has something to blame for his breathlessness)– but after this, he swears he’s never asking for validation from you ever again.

It’s too dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as you trying to ride his skateboard for the first time, it seems. He’s met with the fact only two weeks after the football match. When you texted him and convinced him you’re going to be fine and that he should definitely bring the board with him when you hang out later in the day– ‘I’m not a five year old, I can handle it! I bet it’s going to be fun!’ – he didn’t really expect you to be this bad at it. You seemed a little too confident for him to believe otherwise, and, well, in Eric’s eyes, you are perfect at just about everything. 

This really shattered the image of you he had in his mind. Not in a bad way, no– the man has and always will worship the sheer ground you walk on– it’s just that more than admiration, the feeling flowing through his veins right now seems to be adoration. Eric always admired your every move, every single sentence that ever came out of your mouth. But now, he just can’t seem to contain himself as he watches you stumble over your own feet and try to balance yourself on the unmoving skateboard in the middle of the empty park, hands waving around your figure in a desperate need to not fall over and break your neck. (Which would never happen under Eric’s watch anyway. His reflexes are fast.)

“You look like a baby learning how to walk for the first time,” he gushes from the bench, your bags waiting at his feet. A wide grin is plastered onto his face as he watches you, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the constant stretch of the muscles.

“Very funny,” you sigh, stumbling over once again, making the board move with the kinetic motion of you stepping off of it, leaving Eric to stop it with his outstretched leg.

“You were so confident before,” he shakes his head, mocking you.

“Well, I tend to overestimate my abilities sometimes,” you shrug, a pout slowly appearing on your face as you move closer towards the male, obviously going to sit at the bench next to him. “It’s whatever, I don’t feel like skateboarding anymore–”

“You’re giving up already?” 

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he shakes his head, standing up and offering you his hand to take so he can bring you back up to your feet, “never back down, never what?”

“Eric, I’m not going to finish your TikTok references right now–”

“I said never back down never what?!” he hollers, forcefully tugging you to a standing position, the sigh escaping your lips only fueling him further with his ridiculous antics. “Never give up! That’s right, Y/N, very well. Now, let me help you, I promise it’s not as hard as it seems.”

“I mean, given the fact that even you can do it–”

Eric flashes you a stone cold look as a warning. He doesn’t really think the teasing is at place right now– you’re the one not capable of keeping balance on the skateboard. It’s not like you have any right to joke right now.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Leave the jokes for when your legs don’t look like a freshy born horse’s with how much they’re shaking when you’re up on this thing, yeah?” he chuckles, hearing you snort out a laugh at the accuracy of his comment.

Eric should’ve known he was the one miscalculating his abilities to efficiently teach you how to skateboard before the act itself happened. He didn’t, though, and the thought only occurred to him the moment you started latching onto him like a koala to its favorite tree– all just so you could hold balance on the board beneath your feet.

Your legs are a little shaky– and so are Eric’s hands when they instinctively land on your waist as you latch onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. The boy is painfully aware of the layers of clothing preventing him from touching your bare skin, yet, his fingertips still tingle as they bear into your midriff, holding you steady and preventing you from falling.

“Now, this isn’t so hard,” you conclude, chuckling. Eric doesn’t find it in himself to look up at your face, knowing he’d go painfully red the second your eyes would meet. The close proximity of your body still makes him shy sometimes, despite the years of friendship you share, and so he keeps his gaze glued to the ground instead, clearing his throat before he speaks up again, trying to seem nonchalant and casual.

“I’ll move now, yeah?”

Without really waiting for your reply, his feet shift their position on the ground, dragging you across the road with him. Gentle steps at first, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed, then picking up speed so you move a little faster on the board. “Will you be okay if I let go?”

“I don’t know..? Hopefully…?” you say, voice wavering a little, nerves seeping through your tone.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry,” he hums, feeling how you squeeze his shoulders for one last time before he lets go of your waist, watching the way you slide away on the skateboard. The pace isn’t too fast, yet, it’s still enough to make you grin widely at the boy, your body now used to the feeling, balance finally finding its way to you. 

“Do you want me to push you around for a bit?” he offers, relishing in the way you nod eagerly at him, the grin on your face making his heart squeeze on itself. If he could carve the muscle out of his chest and offer it to you, he would. In his eyes, you deserve everything in this world– how could he not just try and give it to you, little by little, all by himself?

Light steps nearing your figure, he gently pushes you in the back, watching as you slide farther and farther away from him. Every time he gently nudges you in the right direction, he earns himself a hearty giggle from you, the motion making you feel free and reckless– just like teenagers do when discovering the activity for the first time. “I was right! It’s fun!”

Eric can feel himself relishing in the moment fully. Your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could engrave the sight of it into his memory forever. He knows that’s not possible, though, and so he pledges to try his hardest to make it appear on your face so much and so often that he has no chance to forget how it looks.

After you’re done and exhausted with the day, Eric makes it his quest to get you home safely before heading to his place. You complain about your feet hurting, and although the boy is doubtful of your whining, he still offers to drag you home as you stand on the skateboard, holding your hand the whole way. When he’s almost at your apartment complex, he feels the familiar star sticker glued to the back of his hand before you intertwine your fingers with his, running a thumb proudly over the gold plastic.

“A gold star for being a good teacher,” you note when your eyes meet, making the boy chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be giving you one for being a good student? Is that not how things usually work?” 

“I give credit where credit is due,” you hum, nodding to yourself. “Besides, that’s not only for that. I just…” you trail off, as if too nervous to say the next words. “I just wanted to show gratitude to you, ‘cause I had a really good time today,” you say nonchalantly, still, shrugging. Eric feels his stomach churning. How can you be so casual with saying words that make his heart skip a beat?

“I should show my gratitude to you more often too, y’know.”

You shake your head at him, laughing like it’s funny. “Oh, Eric. You do it so often you don’t even realize it. You just have a different way of showing it than I do.”

Eric averts his gaze from you, chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness. He starts to wonder if he’s been too obvious with his feelings. Do you see him differently now?

The questions almost drown him out on the way towards your house. Somewhere along the way, he realizes the act of holding your hand feels natural to him now. Gazing at your interlocked fingers, he smiles to himself. He could get used to it– all of it.

He could get used to the people smiling at him and you on the street when they see you with fingers interlocked. He could get used to holding your hand every day, keeping you close. He could get used to your touches, hugs and skinship. He could get used to waking up to you in the same apartment as him, like that one time he locked himself out and you let him sleep over at your place. And to a certain extent, he already has gotten used to you– all of you. 

He’s used to texting you every day. He’s used to seeing you multiple times a week– because if he doesn’t, he misses you a little too much. He’s used to your movie nights and dancing with you in bars, shielding you from the looks of other greedy men wanting to get a piece of you. He’s used to the gold stickers you constantly provide him with as a gentle reminder of the unsaid feelings shared between the two of you. He’s used to your presence and your energy, he’s used to your teasing words and the memes you send in his Instagram DMs. If you were suddenly removed out of his life, he knows he’ll find it hard. It would feel like a piece of him was missing.

Some days, he tries to make himself believe that he’s content with what you two have right now. And he is, for the most part– but deep down, he knows he wants more. He always wanted something a bit more.

It shines through his actions on most days. It’s visible to everyone– the longing looks, the gentle touches. Jake once said Eric would jump out of a window if you asked him to, and after careful consideration, the boy had to shamefully agree with his roommate. Eric gets laughed at every time his cheeks blush when you give him too much special attention. He’s used to being called the ‘lover boy’ whenever you’re around. 

In front of you, he tries to hide his feelings as much as possible, though.

Sometimes, it slips out of him, though. In moments where the day slowly comes to its end and the atmosphere turns more tender. On days when the movie nights get moved to his apartment, because it’s closer to your university and you claim you’re too tired to walk all the way back to your place. Eric claims you’re just lazy, but the pout on your face tells him otherwise. 

On days when there is no one else in the apartment, just you two, and your conversation dies down. The boy is usually a chatterbox when it comes to watching movies with you– commenting on every single scene, making fun of the characters, teasingly spoiling bits and chunks of the plot for you– but it was a Friday night and you were snuggled up in your favorite hoodie, your bodies stuck tightly to each other on the sofa. There is a cloud of comfort, a huge curtain of intimacy falling over you two, and Eric is afraid that speaking up would ruin the sentiment. 

After a few minutes, he feels your head lay on his shoulder. The crown of your head is instantly more interesting than the movie playing on the TV, his eyes glossing over your relaxed expression. There is hair falling into your face and your eyelashes are kissing your cheekbones, your brain no longer focusing on the movie, but slowly dozing off instead. Eric mentally coos– it’s not often you fall asleep next to him, and so he somehow finds himself treasuring the moment. You look so peaceful, so beautiful– yet so unaware of it. His heart squeezes with tenderness, making sink a little into the sofa cushions so you’re more comfortable in using him as your head rest. He knows waking you up or moving you so you’re resting against the back of the sofa would be more convenient for your neck, but he selfishly relishes in the fact that you found comfort in the crook of his shoulder instead.

He can’t help but smile widely at your composure. You look small and vulnerable. You look like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Eric indulges in the fact that he’s not watched right now, letting himself fully enjoy and admire your sheer existence. 

He acts on impulse when his lips softly land onto your forehead. Not much thought goes into the sentiment– he just sheerly answered his heart’s calling. 

You look dreamy. You look lovely. He’s in love with you, he thinks.

He lets himself settle deeper into the couch cushions. After no longer having to entertain you with his comments on the movie he’s seen 4 times already– The matrix– he finds himself bored enough of the familiar plot to doze off himself, forgetting about the promise he made to you to drive you home after the movie is over. 

He sleeps through your smile and the shake of your head, as well as you detaching your head off his shoulder, smiling at the unaware boy. Not yet asleep– just resting your eyes for a bit– you were a witness of the boy’s tender, loving ministrations. You disappear out of the apartment after the movie is over, crossing paths with Jake in the entrance hall giving you a quiet wave and a point towards his roommate sitting on the sofa, a gold star adorning the tip of his nose.

You just shrug before leaving. Jake just shakes his head at both of you, wondering when your time will finally come. Eric wakes up in the middle of the night to the TV off, asking himself if he should consider the sticker a silent invitation.

And after a while of careful consideration– laying awake and wondering of all the what-ifs, replaying every moment spent with you over and over in his mind, looking for the very obvious signs of reciprocation– he decides to just go for it. He decides to be the brave man he claims he is, and finally makes the first step.

Well, at least tries to. Because as it turns out, it’s much more difficult to invite someone out on a date if you’re already friends with them for a prolonged amount of time. Not only is it more nerve-wrecking, but also much more confusing to the other party– and after inviting you out to get boba in the new place downtown, he’s not so sure you are aware that you’re on a date with him. 

Not that Eric expected anything to change between the two of you instantly after going on a date– no, he’s completely fine with the dynamic you two have, and it’s one of the things he values the most about your friendship– he just thought the atmosphere would be… a little different.

Which is why he decides to start dropping not so subtle hints about his intentions. Brave, isn’t he?

First of all, he pays for your order. All after the 20 minutes you take standing outside of the boba store searching through the menu to find out what you’re going to get– and although Eric finds it endearing, he is also starting to get a little nervous.

“Didn’t know you were so indecisive,” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not!” you grunt, shaking your head at your own antics. “I just don’t know what tastes good together. Should I just get one of the premade drinks on the menu? But I’m not really in the mood for any of these–”

“I’ll just get you a random one,” he sighs, “and you will have no other choice than to drink it.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then at least you have someone to blame,” he snickers, pushing the glass door open and entering the quiet boba store. He orders you a kiwi bubble tea with strawberry popping pearls– because he knows you enjoy how they come apart in your mouth– and after he comes outside with both of the drinks in either of his hands, he waves you off when you ask him how much yours was so you can pay him back.

“It’s on me,” he hums.

An over-exaggerated sigh escapes your mouth at that. “You’re paying? You never pay,” you exclaim and take the straw in between your lips, ready to taste the drink. You and Eric both know that what you said is a lie– he has no issue with paying for you, and he brings you random treats all the time– but for the sake of the next line, he decides to go along with it.

“Well, today is a different occasion, I guess,” he shrugs.

With that, you stop and stare at him with stars in your eyes, a teasing smile slowly overtaking your lips. You’re not stupid– you’re not oblivious the way he is– and so Eric thinks you finally got the hint. Or, at least he hopes so. “Is it?”

Suddenly too shy under your gaze, cheeks tinting light pink, the boy averts his gaze from you and walks down the street, expecting you to follow him. He might be brave enough to drop hints, but still not brave enough to admit to it explicitly.

Not when he drags you to the park and sits with you on the bench, people watching. Not when he casually drops his arm on the back of the bench behind you, gluing himself particularly close to your body. Not when he lets you try his drink, battling away the annoying voice inside of his head telling him that you just shared an indirect kiss. (‘Come on, Eric. You’re not a teenager anymore. Get it together.’)

He doesn’t admit to it in words, but he sure does in actions when he gives you his jacket when the evening gets chilly. He swears you look the most adorable in his red windbreaker, and in a moment of weakness, he puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street, a selfish need of having you close to him winning above everything else.

“And what was so different about today, Eric?” you ask on the way to your apartment, gazing up at the beaming boy next to you. Are you teasing him again? Do you enjoy watching his misery?

Eric figures it’s for the best to tell you, though. He thinks it’s important to set the tone– because after today, it’s almost like nothing changed at all. The dynamic stays the same– and while he doesn’t think he hates it, he admits he’d just rather call you his.

So, despite the embarrassment, he chews on the bottom of his lip. You’re almost at your place already, and so he thinks it won’t hurt to talk about it now. If things go wrong, you can just go home and he can run to his apartment and violently cry into his pillow. 

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts, clearing his throat to buy himself some time and also trying to bite down the excessive nerves clawing at him from the inside, “I… you… I was hoping this wasn’t just like… a regular day out, you know…?”

Blinking at him a few times– because you must love to torture him, there is no other explanation– you shake you head at him. “No, Eric. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Eric physically tears himself off you, your apartment complex now directly in front of him. Cracking his knuckles and taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he tries again. “I meant to… invite you out on a date today,” he proposes simply.

And in that moment, it’s like the whole world stops turning for a minute. Not only do you not give him any verbal answer, but your expression also stays the same as before– completely stoic and neutral, giving him no window into the way you feel about his suggestion. And you know what they say about Eric Sohn– he talks too much. Not only in situations where it’s inappropriate, but also in moments where he feels like there is nothing better to do than to fill the suffocating void that is the silence hanging over him– much like right now.

Eric rambles. “And- and I know I should’ve said that before making you go with me, but god, you don’t know how hard it is to make it clear to you that I’m trying to be more than friends with you without sounding absolutely fucking awkward!” he sighs, wetting his dry, chapped lips. 

“And I’m sorry if this changes your view of me, or something, but trust me, our friendship means to me so much more than just trying to make you date me, that was never my intention behind things, I do everything out of care for you, because you’re– you’re just everything to me–”

After the last line, he hears you chuckle. Your eyes finally meet, and he feels like he wants a car to run him over approximately 15 times to make sure all his bones are broken and his skull is smashed into pieces– he’s sure it would be more comfortable than the situation he put himself in right now.

“That was so cheesy,” you say, Eric’s stomach making a flip that might as well force acid up his throat. He won’t throw up, he won’t throw up, he won’t embarrass himself even more–

His hands shake. Suddenly, you take them into yours. 

He watches you carefully, ready to be let down. You step closer to him– surely, you’re going to give him a comforting hug as you tell him he read all the signs wrong and you don’t feel the same– before you lean into him, face inches away from his. Blinking, Eric suddenly registers your lips locking with his for a mere second, a soft, sweet caress of your mouth on his not giving him a chance to react– a chance to reciprocate– before you pull away, making him freeze.

“You always make things more complicated than they need to be,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Uh…” he lets out, like he lost all the words in his vocabulary. It’s the first time Eric Sohn has nothing to say– and it feels like a miracle. In reality, he’s taken aback and still processing.

The sight of him like this only makes you grin wider. It’s no question that you find him adorable like this, so bashful and surprised, cheeks turning red and lips slightly ajar, big eyes staring into yours. “Cat got your tongue?” you tease, letting go off his hands and placing your palms onto his cheeks instead, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His brain might be blank right now, but his orbs still hold so many emotions– ones that make you soften and cave in on yourself, overflowing with tenderness. Hands automatically resting on your waist, Eric holds you close to his chest.

“Put your mouth to use in a different way, then,” you joke, watching the boy in front of you go into factory reset.

Lips crashing against yours, the boy kisses you like you’re his lifeline. Chasing after you, he puts all the words he’s said before and the ones he keeps hidden inside for now into the action, having you melt in his hold. He feels your breathing on his face, making him deeply aware of every detail, of every miniscule shift of your figure, every tiniest movement of your lips and the almost inaudible sound you let out when his teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls away for air, being a little overly-excited.

Foreheads resting together, the two of you in your own little bubble no one gets to peer into even on the busy street, Eric watches as you look down and take something out of your pocket– something he so deeply recognises, making his heart thump a thousand miles an hour, if it wasn’t already.

Another kiss is given to his lips– for good measure– before you press another one to the tip of his nose and one more peck into the middle of his forehead, making his legs feel like jelly. You follow your lips with the star sticker attached to your thumb, sticking it to your lover’s skin. 

“That’s a gold star for being adorable,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “And for the nice date.”

“Don’t I get one for being a good kisser too?” he pries, watching as you scoff at his prideful question.

“I don’t know, Sohn,” you shrug, “I’m not sure yet, but I could be convinced–”

He cuts you off by locking your lips again, ready to prove you of his abilities. With the gold sticker proudly glimmering on his forehead, he realizes that maybe you were right– and all along, it has always been this simple.

[psn-stalling]

So you didn't try to sleep?

No. I WAS. It just- wasn't really working out for me-? I really was trying though, I promise-

Just... Thinking about recent events a lot. I don't know how to feel. I don't think I should be upset but I am. About a lot.

[ynbabe]

Male! Reader x Batfam- P.t 1

Just silly lil incorrect quotes based on a WIP

Y/N after being forced to babysit the Wayne's, to Dick: You're my husband.

Dick, smirking at the others: Yeah I am.

Y/N, to Damian: You're my child.

Damian, begrudgingly: Yes.

Y/N, to Jason: You're my bitch.

Jason: Yeah I am- wait, what?

Y/N, to Steph, Cass and Duke: My besties.

The trio: Naturally.

Y/N, to Tim: HA, GAY!

Tim 'totally doesn't have a crush' Drake: Fuck you.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick, thought he was the babysitter: What’s the point of all of this?

Bruce: I need to go off-planet and also revenge for the Batmobile.

Jason, who stole it for a joyride: The best revenge is FORGIVENESS.

Tim, pointing to Y/n sipping a margarita at 7 in the morning with sparkly pink sunglasses: Well, there’s no chance of that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Dick with Y/n at a PTM with all his other siblings: That kid shouldn't be allowed to treat Tim that way.

Y/n: Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Dick: Yeah, let’s give him a piece of our minds--

Y/n: Let’s stab him!!!!!

Dick:

Y/n: Damian, get a knife real quick.

Dick: NO-

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Bruce, at his old age of 52: You're a lying piece of shit!

Y/n, 29 but technically 2000 years old: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!

Y/n: I'm leaving and I'm taking Dick with me!

Y/N: AND THE KIDS

Alfred, used to Bruce and his Immortal friends bs, gathering cards: And that's quite enough Monopoly for today.

Dick, being tugged by both Bruce and Y/n: I DON'T EVEN LIVE HERE! ALFIE, HELP!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, getting the tour to babysit: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them?

Bruce, watching Dick screaming, Damian trying to set a sleeping Jason on fire, and Steph choking on air: I don't know either.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: The floor is lava!

Dick: *helps Y/N onto the counter*

Jason and Damian: *pushing each other off the sofa*

Tim: *lays on the floor*

Y/n: ...Are you okay?

Tim: No.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Goon 1, talking about Redhood: I heard he's horrible.

Goon 2: Yeah, dude probably has an iceberg for a heart.

*Meanwhile, in the Cave*

Y/N: Hold still!

Jason: I had an itch!

Y/N, putting stickers on Jason's mask: I don't care, you're going to mess me up.

Jason: *Rolls his eyes but lets Y/N continue while he's smiling behind his mask.*

Y/N, margarita in hand: *Puts a gold star on Jason's redhood helmet* there. Perfect, just like you.

Jason, tearing up: Thank you.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: BE A BETTER PERSON!

Dick: WHY?!

Y/n: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*Dick and Y/n on a mission*

Dick, snickering to himself: Y/n needs help. Guess I have to get to the top myself

Y/n, without thinking: You’re incapable of topping anything you’re a fucking bottom

Dick: *immediately trips over nothing*

Tim, on comms support: … guys?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Steph: I love this new strawberry-flavoured shampoo I got!

Y/n: Flavored?

Steph: Scented! I mean scented.

Steph: But yeah, it tastes like strawberries too!

Y/n, calling poison control: No you did not! STEPH!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

[Jason, Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke and Damian doing something dangerous]

Y/n [judging while drinking a margarita] Look at those morons. Where are their parents?

Y/n: ...

Y/n: Oh shit! I'm their parent!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Tim, about his crush on Kon: I need life advice

Y/n, sipping a Margarita and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Repose

—

Time written- 10:51 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader (Credit to Irenne on Pinterest)

—

The sting in his muscles when Jason so much as lifted a finger was nothing new to him. The healing bruises decorating his knuckles, the constant burning ache in his knees.

You’re getting old, Todd. You’d say to him.

Ouch, straight in the heart. He’d reply before cornering you against the nearest surface, giving you that cheeky smile that always made your cheeks rosy. Tell me I’m getting old again, see what other kinds of things I can get ya to say.

He liked to tease back, to push those tickle spots. adoring to make you laugh whenever he had the chance. Any positive reaction he gained from you was another gold star on his chart, a positive outlook on his conscience so grand, the galaxy would get jealous in a few months at most.

Watching you sleep enveloped his mind in a calm serenity he believed he couldn’t obtain anywhere else. A satisfaction of seeing the person you love committing such a simple action as sleeping was…

He wasn’t sure how to describe it.

All he’d know is he’d watch for hours without interruption, a content little smile remaining permanent on his face.

The comfort of your presence nearly allowed Jason to ignore the ache in his joints, the healing bruises and bandaged cuts you aided him with. His slightly injured, throbbing head slowly soothed from a few rapid release meds, provided by your little stash kept in a cross labeled medical in your dresser.

You made the ‘mistake’ of offering Jason a lollipop, typical pediatric doctor behavior.

He plays into it, asking for a scented sticker instead. Or a kiss.

You didn’t have any stickers, so you’re forced to settle per your dangerous boyfriend’s request. One kiss turned into another, shifting into Jason’s hands cradling your plush, warm hips, sitting you in his lap after a couple of encouraging nudges.

You advised against it at first, due to his injuries, but Jason couldn’t help but insist.

“Jay?” Your eyes squint in the darkness, catching the faint rays of moonlight reflecting off the white streaks in his tussled hair. Your red teddy bear stares down at you, gifting your bare body a warm squeeze against his.

“You okay?” You croak out a whisper, growing a little worried as to why he was awake at this hour. Like your tired brain could fully acknowledge the time, really.

Jason nods once. “Yeah. M’okay, babe.”

“Do you have to go?” Your sweet, tired voice tugs at his sore heartstrings. You never wanted him to leave, dreading laying in bed all alone while watching him get dressed. As much as you admired his physique, it most likely ends with some kind of cut to clean and kiss better.

You wanted him to remain right where he was: in a safe space, a warm meal in his belly, his wounds tended to, his body resting after various limbs grew tangled within each other’s.

Jason was here. He was here, he was safe. His heartbeat usually lulled you to sleep, but tonight you settled for a pillow to keep the pressure off his chest.

“No no,” he replies, trailing a few calloused fingers along your cheek. “No, I’m stayin’ tonight.”

Your tired smile grows when he kissed your concerns away, his nose brushing along yours as his pecks trail from one on your cheek, towards another on the top of your head.

“What’s wrong?” Your exhausted mind remains ever so vigilant on his behalf, feeling both heart warmed and a little guilty. He’s supposed to tend to your needs, but it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it.

He needs to give you a day. A day full of appreciation for all the hours you’ve spent doting on him, taking care of him like this. He wanted you to experience just how much of an absolute cherub you’ve been, kissing his cheek repeatedly while settling your head along his shoulder.

“Shh shhh. Nothing, babygirl.” Jason rasps, pressing a warm kiss to your temple before reinforcing his hold, rubbing soothing circles along your back, gently cradling your head against his good shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”