#but man I just got there and the kid ran up to me in his little thor costume and punched me

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P23 | i realised that day that she in fact had two

The ride to the bar was kinda tense. Mark knew it required more than a few sips of alcohol to loosen Yuno up. It must've been a shock to the guy. Yuno honestly thought of Mark as a brother, so Yuno's heart went still when he saw Mark wearing matching cardigans with y/n—his estranged sister that abandoned their father and Yuno himself without a second thought, betraying her family just like how her mother did.

When they got to the bar, a few shots in, only then did Yuno begin to speak again.

“Be honest with me, Mark—did you really see her again just recently? At that pop up coffee spot she ran?” Yuno asked, and downed another shot of vodka to prepare himself hearing the answer.

“Yes, Jae. It hasn't been more than a week since I met her again. I'm sorry if this cardigan made you think I had been dating her behind your back, but I wouldn't do that to you.” Mark sighed, signaling the bartender to refill his glass.

“It wasn't just the matching cardigans, Mark. You arrived at the lobby together, and she was smiling. Even without the matching cardigans, it looked like you just had a date.” Yuno decided to take a break from the drinking, self aware of his own high tolerance with alcohol.

“She was smiling?” Mark stilled, turning his head to look at Yuno for added clarity.

Yuno, sensing how Mark was taken aback with his statement, looked back at him.

“She was. You didn't notice that?”

“I was busy staring at you—your text gave me a fucking heart attack, dude. Besides, what is she smiling for? We literally argued just right before entering the lobby.” Mark scrunched his eyebrows, messing with his hair as he wondered the reason behind your smile.

“Really? Was it an argument or a bicker? Jesus—this probably means you never noticed the crush she had on you back then. Or maybe she still does have a crush on you—maybe that's why she smiled when you weren't looking.” Yuno chuckled bitterly, reminded of a past when his sister was still his sister, and not the spoiled stepdaughter of a wealthy man she was now.

The same spoiled rich kid he was living with.

Mark froze completely, setting his glass down on the counter. It felt like all of his memory of you was getting warped inside his mind, despite the fact of how much he had refused to remind himself of the time when he had been close to you. Not ever since you moved away to Gangnam.

“Oh, shit. You actually never knew that, did you?” Yuno's smile dropped after he saw Mark going blank at the reveal.

Mark looked like he was having a hard time coming to terms with the information, but at one point, he picked up his drink, and downed the whole glass in one go. After he set the glass back down on the counter, Mark shook his head, realising that him agonising over this sudden reveal was pointless anyway.

“Well, it doesn't matter, whether she had a crush on me or not, and if she still does. She already has two men that keep her entertained now, so—I don't find it attractive to be the third.” Mark snorted, placing his elbows on the counter.

Now it was Yuno's turn to go blank. When a sudden beat of silence halted their conversation, with Yuno now deemed speechless, only then did Mark realise his mistake. Sure, you and Yuno were estranged siblings, and haven't spoken to each for 5 years—but that wouldn't completely erase the fact that you were still siblings bound by blood, so what sane older brother would be nonchalant at the fact that their younger sister is being entertained by two men at once? Especially when Yuno didn't even know who those men were.

“What?”

Mark winced at his friend's absolute dumbfounded tone. He should've put a tighter lid on that info. Mark dropped his head and hung it low, quietly cursing himself at his carelessness.

“Mark, you can't just say that and suddenly go quiet now!” Yuno hissed, smacking on the younger man's shoulder.

“I didn't mean to say that! Look, me and Y/N were working on our bureau task together the other day and finished it by the evening. Y/N asked me to keep her company while she waited for her ride, and I only agreed because it was getting dark.” Mark explained carefully, and Yuno was all ears.

“A Ford truck pulled up—and it was these two dudes who looked like they were in their early 30’s. They offered to drop me off as a thank you for accompanying her—it was obvious that these two dudes were really close with her and protective over her too. Y/N had forgotten to bring her access card that day, and one of them gave her their spare access card for her unit.

Me and Y/N share some mutual friends, and apparently, her friends have some suspicions that she might have a sugar daddy…I realised that day that she in fact had two.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was weird to call them ‘shifts’. They weren't shifts, but in fact tasks—but it sounded shady to refer to them as receiving a job for the night. So that's why you and the crew referred to them as ‘shifts’—because receiving a text that reads ‘hey, we have a job tonight’ made it sound like you were involved with Seoul’s underworld as either a hitman or a drug runner.

However, it didn't mean your ‘shifts’ were any less riskier than actual underworld work—because your ‘shifts’ entailed you interrupting an underworld worker's job. Helping relocating and hiding a victim of Seoul's ruthless loan sharks was playing with fire, and helping the police in tracking down those lowlifes was a sure way to have a bounty placed on your head.

And that's why every time you're out on those nightly shifts, you always focus. You can't afford to get distracted while on the job since the victims depend on your crew to keep them safe. The adrenaline of knowing that those bastards might catch up to you would have you hyper focused and alert.

So when the job was done for the night, you'd crash out, and that was exactly why you were sleeping like a log in the truck's backseat on the way back as Geonwoo drove. They made a quick detour though, ordering some fast food through a drive-thru on the way. It wasn't the healthiest choice for a really late dinner, but it was all they had at the moment.

Woojin was the one that carried you on his back for tonight, only because Geonwoo had been the driver for tonight's shift. When they got to your unit, Geonwoo placed the fast food orders on the counter and took them out while Woojin placed you on the couch and shook you to wake you up.

“Kid, you need to wake up. Have your dinner first.” Woojin spoke in an exhausted tone, and you only woke up because your stomach was beginning to hurt from your gastric condition.

You groggily walked to your kitchen counter and began to unwrap your food.

“What time is it?” You asked flatly, mouth still full of food and some even splattered on your counter as you spoke.

Geonwoo sighed and wiped your mess away with a tissue, “It's barely 1 a.m.”

“We left at 8 though.”

Woojin pinched your cheek when more food pieces splattered on the counter, “Stop talking while eating, dumbass. At least swallow it first.” He sighed shallowly, “Geonwoo stopped for a moment because he was getting leg cramps.”

“I see—”

Suddenly, all three of you heard your door unlocking. When you snapped your heads to see who it was—it turned out it was Yuno coming back from drinking with Mark.

Your older brother froze when he saw you eating with two older men he didn't recognise.

Were these the sugar daddies Mark talked about?

A beat of silence, then—

Geonwoo walked up to Yuno, and Woojin followed suit while you were left at the kitchen counter, your sleep-addled brain processing what was happening.

Geonwoo stretched out his hand with a tight smile on his face, “Nice to meet you, you must be Y/N’s new roommate. I'm Kim Geonwoo and he's Hong Woojin—we live right next to your unit.”

Yuno's reminded of what Mark said—

“You know, when I asked Y/N about them, she said they were her neighbours. That kinda put me off a bit because these guys were really closer to Y/N than I initially thought.”

Yuno shook Geonwoo's hand. Geonwoo's smile widened when he felt Yuno tight's grip.

“I'm not just her roommate—I’m her older brother. Nice to meet you two, my name's Jeong Yuno. The gamjajeon from this morning was delicious.”

Yuno's smile was anything but friendly.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : yuno thinks he's acting tough but all he's doing is making a fool out of himself like—

also, the normal smau format will be reinstated in the next update y'all, so say goodbye to all these words on your screen 👋🏻

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @nessaassen02 @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @leemoonna @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Home to Thrive In

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: You still live next door to Tim Bradford's mother, and when he visits for the first time in years, you have to decide if you're willing to let go of the idea of him you fell in love with.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for 4x09 "Breakdown", angst, arguments, discussion of past abuse, r is Tim's childhood friend, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: It's late. This may be terrible. I will reassess tomorrow.

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Have you talked to Mom recently?” Genny asks. When Tim doesn’t answer, she sighs and murmurs, “Don’t know why I thought you would.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re dragging me back into the Tom Bradford-centric world I’ve been trying to outrun since we were kids? Now you want me to tell Mom about everything that’s happened,” Tim argues. “I’m already working on a murder case that Dad hid for decades. I don’t need more family drama right now, Genny."

“She worries about you, Tim. Just wants to be part of your life again.”

Tim's phone rings, a saving grace, and he excuses himself as he pushes his chair away from the table and leaves his sister.

“Tim,” Lucy greets. “I brought Monica Ochoa back in.”

“The woman who was killed by the gun I found in my dad’s house. Why?”

“Because I knew there was more to her story. You- you couldn’t see past the version that you wanted to see.”

“What’d she say?”

“Your dad… Tim, Monica confessed.”

Tim hangs up on Lucy, walks directly past his sister while ignoring her questions, and gets in his truck to visit his dad. To see if he’ll tell the truth when he has no other choice or if he’s really the terrible man Tim thinks he is.

“You didn’t kill Frank,” Tim states.

Tom sighs before he counters, “Sure I did. Now, come on. Cuff me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Monica confessed.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close, and you needed to frame someone else.”

“He was brutal, abusive,” Tom explains. “She deserves a medal for what she did.”

“He was abusive?” Tim repeats.

“What? You think I’m like him? I was nothing like Frank. I taught you what you needed to know, son. You’re a man now because of me.”

“No. I’m who I am in spite of you,” Tim replies. His dad doesn’t speak, and Tim nods as he adds, “Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts.”

In the hallway outside his dad’s room, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Grey.

“Bradford,” Wade greets as the call connects.

“I need to take some personal time,” Tim says instead of a salutation.

“Lord knows you’ve stashed up enough of it. Where are you going?”

“To see someone I should’ve visited a long time ago.”

“You did the right thing, Tim. Take your time and know we’re here for you when you get back.”

Tim ends the call, then texts his sister that he’s taking her advice. He hasn’t been home to his mom’s house in years, and he needs her, needs space from his family and his station, and needs to work through the events of the week on his own. Though he isn’t sure if he’s welcome or if his mother's new home will feel the same as it did fifteen years ago, Tim gets in his truck and drives toward the last place he felt at home.

Your evening walk is refreshing, and the sunset helps you focus on the beauty of the day as you wind down.

“Sweetheart!” your neighbor calls, waving from her porch.

“Mrs. Bradford,” you greet with a smile as you step onto her walkway. “How are you today?”

“Good, good. Talked to Genny earlier, she’s visiting Tim.”

You smile and nod, unwilling to touch the sensitive subject of Tim. Growing up with him, you saw the worst parts of his childhood, home life, and father, but that never added up to you. He ran away from his mother, from love and home just to outrun bad memories. A task you know to be impossible.

“How was your book?” you ask, moving away from Mrs. Bradford’s stressful family life. “Did you finish it last night?”

“I did. You were right, the twist at the end was a shock. I thought the vigilante did it!”

“Interesting,” you muse. “I was torn between him and the builder.”

Mrs. Bradford hums before her oven beeps.

“You take care of that,” you say as you wrap your arms over her shoulders in a quick hug. “We’ll talk about the book and start the sequel on Saturday?”

“Count on it. Have a good night!”

“You too!”

Headlights reflect off your front door as you push it open, but you don’t bother to turn around and see who it is. Two of your neighbors get home around this time, and there aren’t many visitors or tourists in your area. So, when you’re closing the curtains and notice an unfamiliar truck in Mrs. Bradford’s driveway, you decide to watch and ensure everything is okay.

“Tim!” Mrs. Bradford calls excitedly as the driver’s door opens. She rushes out and pulls him into a hug, and from the way he grips her and buries his face against her shoulder like he’s eight again, you know that this isn’t just a sorry I stopped calling, Mom visit. Something happened and that’s the only reason he’s home.

“Welcome home, Tim,” you whisper before you pull the curtains together and put the distance you’re used to back between you and Tim.

You kneel by your front door to tie your shoes. Then you untie them and loop the laces differently. Knowing that Tim Bradford is next door makes you hesitate to go outside. Yet, you don’t want to let him impact your life more than he already has. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that his mother already told him about your downward spiral, how you fell apart when he left without so much as a word. As a kid, you fell in love with Tim Bradford, and you stayed in love with the idea of him in high school. Then, when he disappeared without a word or trace, and you only found out that he was a cop for the LAPD through his sister, you decided that the idea of him was as good as you would ever get.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself as you stand and lay your hand on the doorknob. “It’s just the man who has occupied your every thought for years. Just walk by.”

The magnitude of your mistake hits you in full force when you’re nearly past Mrs. Bradford’s fence. Tim says your name and your heart clenches at the realization that you remembered his voice so well. Years of hearing it in your dreams will preserve your memory like that.

“Tim,” you reply, swallowing as you face him. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“It wasn’t exactly the plan. Genny showed up and everything just kind of blew up in my face.”

Kind of like what you put me through, you think. Rather than saying it, you nod sympathetically.

“Did my mom… did she tell you about my dad?”

“Tim, your mom tells me a lot. But no one close to your mom has brought him up in years.”

“Wish my sister had gotten that message,” Tim scoffs.

“I hope you enjoy the time with your mom,” you interrupt. “But I’ve got to get going.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod but feel your chest tighten as you hope he’s wrong. Losing Tim Bradford again is not an option, so you refuse to let him closer than he needs to be.

“I didn’t know she moved with you, still lived next door,” Tim muses as his mother ushers him inside for breakfast.

“You don’t know much,” she points out, not unkindly but not untrue. “She knows more than you. I’ve told her everything Genny passed along. You were so close as kids.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees before he trails off. He remembers being friends, but not the kind of friends that would ask about each other. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Well, you can hardly blame her.”

“What does that mean?”

Tim’s mother looks at him and presses her lips together. He has her eyes, but he doesn’t have her understanding or the intuition about people she tried to instill in him when his father wasn’t trying to teach him to be a man.

“If you can’t see it, Tim, it’s too late to explain it. She’s coming over for lunch and our duet book club tomorrow. You have thirty hours to read the book if you want to participate.”

“Thank you for letting me come home, Mom.”

She lays her hand on Tim’s shoulder and promises, “You’re always welcome here, Timothy.”

You knock on Mrs. Bradford’s door while Tim’s truck is gone. With one of her signature ceramic loaf pans in your hands, filled with your favorite cookies, you wait for the door to open to return her dish and offer some goodies.

“Sorry to…” you begin as the door opens. “Oh, Tim. Sorry, your truck was gone so I assumed your mom would be here.”

“She borrowed my truck to do something that she refused to have help for. Come on in.”

Tim opens the door for you, and for reasons beyond your comprehension, you accept his invitation and walk inside. After you set the pan on the counter, you turn around to leave, but Tim is leaning against the table and watching you.

“Enjoying your time off?” you question, wringing your fingers together behind your back.

“I am. Especially after the last case I worked on,” Tim answers. “My mom hasn’t told me much about you.”

You hum and look at your feet as you reply, “Not much to tell.”

“She seems to tell you a lot.”

“Look, Tim, I’m just trying to respect your boundaries. She told me that your dad was involved in something, a murder, but it’s not my business.”

“Frank Ochoa,” Tim interjects.

You furrow your brows as you ask, “Monica’s husband? But that was a robbery.”

Tim tilts his head to the side as he says, “My dad admitted to killing him. He was protecting Monica.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“What?”

Tim stands from the table, his crossed arms falling to his sides. “You knew something and didn’t tell anybody, didn’t you?”

“Tim, I-“

“Look, I’ve been lied to by too many people this week. You still have the same tell you did in elementary school. What did you know?”

You clench your jaw and step to the right to go around Tim, but he moves to block you, and rather than running into his chest, you retreat further into Mrs. Bradford’s kitchen.

“This case – the people there – have been lied to, we’ve been wrong, there’s been no justice for decades. And you’ve known something the whole time? How can you live with that?”

“How can I live with it?” you repeat incredulously. “How was I – a child, Tim – supposed to go to the police and tell them that I saw Frank beating Monica over and over? They wouldn’t have believed me!”

“You didn’t try!”

“Yes, I did!” you yell. Wiping the single tear that managed to escape in your memories of the only time you tried to help your neighbors, you lose some of your fight.

“Doesn’t seem like you tried very hard,” Tim adds under his breath.

You laugh once and shake your head. “I told the police your dad was beating you, Tim. You know what happened? They came and asked him about it. He denied everything. After they left, he took you out into the backyard and demanded to know who you told. So, see if you can wrap your cop brain about why I was scared to tell on someone else.”

“I didn’t know you-“

“You didn’t know anything, Tim.”

Tim scoffs and argues, “Oh and you know so much about who I am now because of what my sister tells my mom?”

“At least I talk to your mom, Tim,” you snap. Immediately, you regret it. “I’m sorry,” you offer.

“I couldn’t,” Tim defends.

“Did you try?”

Tim’s truck rumbles as his mother returns from the store, and you hold Tim’s stare until the engine shuts off.

“Can I leave now, or do you want to blame me for something else?”

Tim steps back and opens his mouth, but you storm past him before he can say anything else. You return to your house after you hug Mrs. Bradford and tell her about the cookies. The idea of Tim Bradford that you’ve clung to since childhood is growing fuzzy around the edges, and alone in your house, you cry over what he told you today, the mistakes you made, and the loss of the Tim you were born to love.

Someone knocks on your door the following morning, and you stare at it rather than walking toward it.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” Mrs. Bradford calls.

With a sigh, you stand and invite her in, not caring if she notices your teary eyes or unusual attitude.

“I thought you might want someone to talk to. Somewhere away from my son,” she explains as she leads you to your dining table. “So, I brought food and company. Choose what you want.”

“It’s not just Tim,” you explain. “I mean… he was right, but it’s different.”

“Different than when you fell in love with him?” she guesses.

You look up at her, wide-eyed at her question. She smiles and gestures for you to continue.

“I’ve been dreaming about him coming back, thinking that we could pick up where we left off, but he’s nothing like what I remember.”

“Time will do that,” she soothes, taking your hand over the table.

“It didn’t do it to me.”

“Sweetheart… you didn’t let it. I love you, you know that, but you cling so tightly to the past, to the familiar, that you haven’t allowed yourself to adapt to the beauty of the growth and changes around you. Haven’t even let yourself show the woman you’ve become.”

You lick your lips before sniffling and asking, “What if I don’t like it?”

“But what if you thrive in it?”

Wiping the back of your free hand across your face, you clear your tears and nod. You know that Mrs. Bradford is right, but you also know that there will be pain in the beauty when you choose to move forward.

“Does he hate me?” you whisper.

“Timothy? I don’t think he could ever hate you.”

“He can sure blame me for a lot, though,” you point out with a wet laugh.

“Beating himself up over that at the moment, if you’re wondering. And, when you’re ready to talk to him, maybe you should try getting to know who he is today.”

You nod and pull a homemade candy from her special-made meal. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, are we going to keep crying over silly boys or try to solve a murder mystery on a pioneer plantation?”

Dressed in your favorite outfit, you shift from foot to foot on Mrs. Bradford’s porch as you try to get your courage up. Just as you lift your hand to knock, a throat clears behind you. You spin around quickly, then release a breath and press your hand over your racing heart.

“You could have told me you were back there sooner,” you point out softly.

“I wanted to see where this was going,” Tim answers, closing his tailgate. “Listen, about the other day-“

You raise your hand to silence Tim and shake your hand. “I came over here to talk to you. About more than that. Do you maybe want to go somewhere to do that?”

Tim nods and opens the passenger door of his truck, offering his hand as he helps you in without a word. The drive to the local high school football field is quick but silent, and when you exit the truck and join Tim on the tailgate to watch the sunset, you take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that with your dad, the house, Frank, all that,” you begin. “But I’m sorrier that I didn’t do more back then.”

Tim nods and says, “You were right. They wouldn’t have listened, or it would’ve spooked my dad and made everything worse.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” You look at Tim’s profile and ask, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits without hesitation. “My dad was protecting Monica. He never did anything to protect us, but his mistress – broke half a dozen laws for her.”

“I knew that, too,” you whisper. “My mom made me stop sitting by the door after that year, which was probably a good thing. Uhm, are they going to prosecute your dad?”

“No. Not on his death bad. But it doesn’t matter. He’ll get judged soon enough.”

You nod, your eyes still on Tim rather than the pink sunset before you. His eyes have teared up, and everything inside of you begs for you to just let go.

“Tim, you’re nothing like him. You know that, right?”

Tim nods a tiny movement that breaks your heart. This isn’t the Tim you remember, not the Tim from elementary school or the one who was punished for your ill-conceived attempt to help. Most importantly, you realize, this isn’t the Tim you’ve dreamed of loving. Tim Bradford, the man before you, is who you can love, want to love, and desperately, wholly, devastatingly need to love.

With a deep breath, you release everything you’ve been holding onto. Your grip on your dreams, on your memory of Tim and what you thought you wanted, and the moment that trapped you in your position of being terrified to do the wrong thing in your efforts to do good weakens, and you feel like a flower in bloom. Everything seems new, the possibilities are endless, and you’re a new person who isn’t afraid to do right, even when it terrifies you and carries the potential to break your heart.

“Tim,” you whisper.

He turns toward you, drawn by the tone in your voice, and blinks past his tears. You shift on his tailgate and raise your arms toward his shoulders. Tim leans forward and meets you halfway, pulling you into his lap as you collapse into a hug that heals the broken edges of who you are. With Tim’s arms against your back and waist, you feel more at home than ever, and he feels the same. His mother’s house was never the home he was returning to, but a pursuit for this feeling, right in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on you, and this version of you - unafraid, complete in Tim Bradford’s arms - is ready to thrive. You won’t heal overnight; neither of you will, but it’s a start.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Tim laughs against your neck before he pulls back gently to retrieve his phone from his pocket.

“My mom,” he tells you. “If you haven’t kissed her yet, what are you waiting for? Another set of wrinkles?”

You fail to stop the laugh that escapes at Mrs. Bradford’s bluntness. Then, you realize how glad you are that he’s reading her text messages.

“Well?” you ask. “Should we kiss or wait for more wrinkles?”

Tim pushes a stray hair out of your face and promises, “None of it was your fault.”

You nod and thank him, then brush your thumbs against his cheeks. “Last time we were on a field together, it was raining. I also wanted you to kiss me then.”

“You never told me.”

“How was I supposed to tell you that, Tim?” you ask. “I… I was caught up in an idea of who we could be, and I was scared to ruin it by doing something new.”

“And now?”

Rather than asking for what you want, you take it as you lean forward and kiss Tim. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and the first raindrop feels suspiciously like a teardrop as it runs down your face and onto Tim’s. You laugh as you run toward the truck doors, thunder rumbling as a storm approaches from the west. In the truck with Tim, you find yourself face-to-face with a better version of the dream life you craved in Tim’s absence.

Bonus:

“Get inside, it’s going to start raining again!” Mrs. Bradford calls from the kitchen when she hears the door open. “Don’t need you catching a cold on your time off, Timothy.”

You press your lips together and smile at Tim, who is drenched after offering you his jacket to hold over your head in a poor attempt to stay somewhat dry.

“She’s going to mother you, too,” he points out.

“Hey, I’m used to it,” you reply. “Like it, even.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Bradford murmurs as she appears in the doorway. “Go get dried off and change, Tim.”

After he disappears into his room, Mrs. Bradford offers you a towel and a change of clothes. She smiles as she leans in and says, “Flowers that thrive need plenty of rain to grow, you know.”

[snapghoul]

I'm loving this extended Tom Cruise Universe you're building with Top Gun and Mission Impossible. It's just so much fun!!

Do you have any thoughts about Ethan and Bradley interacting? I'd love to see baby Bradley being So Confused by the whole twin situation, but I'd also love to see something with grown up Bradley. Really just anything with those two.

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us!! 💙💙

Hehe I love the cruise multiverse, I’m having so much fun and I love that you are enjoying it. Here’s some more Mitchell twins and Bradley ❤️

Vignettes of Bradley and Ethan.

Mav is there too

Warnings: foul language

The first time Bradley mistook Ethan for Mav was when he was five.

Ethan stepped into Carol’s house, arriving right on time at four o'clock, though he wasn’t sure where his brother was. He stood awkwardly by the door—familiar with Carol, but having not been around much lately.

“Mav! Mav! Look!” Suddenly, little Bradley clung to Ethan’s leg, bouncing excitedly while holding up a shiny red diecast car. Caught off guard, Ethan quickly bent down and lifted Bradley onto his hip.

“Look! Mom got me a new car!” Bradley beamed, proudly displaying the toy. Ethan chuckled, taking the car with his free hand and admiring it.

“Wow, kid! That’s a great one!” He grinned back at the toddler, who was still glowing with excitement.

Just then, the door swung open behind him and bumped into Ethan's hip. He turned to see Pete, clad in his brown bomber jacket and aviators, his hair tousled from a motorcycle ride.

Pete's face lit up at the sight of his twin. He shut the door and clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, unaware of Bradley's bewilderment as he glanced back and forth between them. Carol appeared around the corner, laughing at her son's confused expression.

“Hey, little man! Is that Camaro from your mom?” Pete asked, enthusiasm bubbling over as he reached for the car. Bradley released it without hesitation, eyes wide.

“This is awesome!” Pete exclaimed, turning the car in his hands. But Bradley's confusion shifted to fear; he squirmed in Ethan's arms and began to whine. Without protest, Ethan set him down, and Bradley dashed to his mother, burying his face in her legs.

Pete burst out laughing, while Ethan felt a flush of embarrassment.

. ✰ .

Bradley was beginning to appreciate Mav’s affection for his desert hangar; it offered a peaceful escape from the chaos of everyday life. He navigated around the wing of Mav’s P-51 Mustang, the morning sun casting a warm glow as he recalled his promise to spend the weekend with Mav.

“Fuck!—Jesus Christ!” He jumped as he passed a makeshift living area, where Ethan sat on the couch, wide awake and stock still. The longer hair and nondescript clothing were a clear departure from Mav’s usual style. “What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a quiet morning,” Ethan shrugged, his calm demeanor oddly fitting in the dim light of the hangar. Most of the lights were off, but sunlight filtered through, illuminating the space.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair, bemused. That was quintessentially Ethan—unfazed and unpredictable. “Where’s Mav?”

“He took his bike out for a ride. Said he ran out of the good coffee.” Ethan smiled as if this was perfectly normal.

“And you didn’t go with him?” Given their shared love for speed, it was surprising that Ethan had opted to stay behind.

“I’ve had enough motorcycles for a while. The last one didn’t end well,” he replied casually. The nonchalance made Bradley raise an eyebrow—what could Ethan possibly have done to total a bike and walk away unharmed?

“It wasn’t mine, so don’t worry,” Ethan added, sensing Bradley's concern and waving it off, which only deepened Bradley's confusion.

. ✰ .

Bonus:

“Mav, what does Ethan do?” Bradley asked one day, having watched the man come and go throughout his life—sometimes battered and other times radiant. Yet, he had never heard Ethan discuss his work.

Pete paused, setting down his pen and glancing up from the paperwork Cyclone had assigned him. Bradley often sought refuge in Mav’s cramped office to escape the Vice Admiral’s presence.

“He’s in government work. Used to be in the Army, then transferred to another division after his honorable discharge,” Pete replied, carefully avoiding the specifics. The IMF was not a topic for casual conversation.

“Huh.” Bradley frowned, skepticism etched on his face. That explanation didn’t clarify anything for him.

Bonus 2:

Average Bradley reaction to Ethan dropping random lore every time he’s around and never elaborating (no one tells him anything):

[jeanystillbeany]

BillFord Fic 2

this is the second part ig

The shack was a quite the distance away from the lab.  As many questions that swelled in the scientist’s lungs, he kept silent as everyone had.  He trusted his own family and they’ve been here longer than he has.  He could sense their weariness of danger.  This route definitely had some sound sensitive beings that would eat them alive the second they even whispered.  

  Soos put Dipper down and ushered him inside along with everyone else. Closing the door behind them.  Ford expected him to blockade the door or at least and he gave his brother a questioning look.  

  “What about-“ 

  “Oh don’t worry about that, your nephew took care of it.”  Stanley cut his brother off, emphasizing the word ‘nephew’.  Ford assumed he was expecting some sort of shocking reveal where he would look at him in shock.  But he didn’t take into account that Ford already knows about his niece and nephew through traveling through other timelines.   How would he know?    

  “H-hi!  I’m D-Dipper!  So you’re the author!  And you’re… supposed to be dead.  Grunkle Stan… didn’t Bill… say…” The nervous excitement in the 13-year-old’s voice vanished as it was replaced by confusion.  The kind of weary uncertainty that sends chills up anyone’s back.  Especially for scientists who are particularly familiar with the name ‘Bill Cipher’.  Ford felt his hands begin to shake as he looked towards Stanley.  When did he talk to Bill?  Did he make a deal?  Was Bill listening right now?  

  “Ford.  Welcome to Weirdmagedon…” Stan sighed out with a defeated look on his face.  

  “He’s- He’s out?!  This… wasn’t just… oh dear god…!  Stanley, how did this happen?!”  Ford ran his fingers through his hair as his pupils grew smaller.  Stanley sighed and shook his head.  

  “We’ve got a lot to talk about… but first…” without any warning, Stanley smacked Ford across the face.  “Where were you?!  Why did- You had no right to leave me!”  Ford growled and grabbed the hand that assaulted him.  

  “Leave you?!  You pushed me into the portal Stanley!  You might not even be my Stan!  I’ve been trapped, traveling different timelines for over 20 years!  I’ve dealt with the time police, different versions of you!  Do you know how many times I’ve watched these kids die, Stanley?  I had to fight your zombified version of yourself from eating me alive!  You ruined my life!  I-…”  Stanford paused with a sigh.  Did he say too much?  He glanced at everyone’s expressions.  He realized something.  He didn’t even take into account the horrified face of his dear nephew who silently listened.  

  “…where’s Mabel…?”  Ford felt his chest tighten up.  Was she already gone?  Did it have something to do with the giant floating zodiac ball?  Did this hellish Timeline tear the siblings apart again?  Even the questions Ford spoke aloud were left unanswered as the tension filled silence latched itself onto the room.  

  “Look dudes!  Dudes!  Hear me out- let’s play 20 questions.”  Soos nonchalantly sauntered between the two and put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. 

  “Doo do-do.  There you go dude.  Just relax.”  Soos led Ford to a random box of rations and sat him down on it.  The action allowed the rest of the crew to view the large scratch on his back.  Wendy winced.  

  “Oh- yikes.  That doesn’t look too good… I’ll grab the med kit.  You guys… uh… work things out, yeah?  Cool?  Cool.”  Wendy excused herself from the room as everyone continued to sit in silence.  After about five minutes Soos stepped in to encourage the intended conversation.  

  “Mr.  Pines… uh… fake Mr.  Pines.  Why don’t you ask Mr. Pines a question…?”  Soos suggested, silently urging the twins to coexist in at least semi-harmony.  

  “I’M the fake!?”  Stanford exclaimed and angrily jolted from his box.  The sudden movement was followed by a burning sensation on his wound.  The man sighed irritated but sat back down to re-ask his question.  “…Stan… Where’s Mabel…?”  He lifted a six-fingered hand up to his face to rub his temples as the other removed his glasses.  It was clear he was already assuming the worst of his niece.  After a long moment of silence, the youngest in the room spoke up.  

  “She’s trapped.”  Somehow this kid could make Ford tense up like a twig or loose like water with every sentence he said.  The Grunkle couldn’t help a small sigh of relief from escaping him as he looked up at Dipper, motioning for him to continue.  Dipper lowered his head before going to the blinds of the Mystery shack and pulling them aside.  “We believe she’s stuck in there.”  Dipper explained, also bothering to show a picture of the out of place bubble with his sister’s zodiac on it.  Ford nodded gazing through the glass.  

  “My turn.”  Stan spoke up amidst the conversation.  “Where were you?”  Stan walked over to the fridge as he asked his question.  He hooked his hand on the top of it as he shuffled through it- his hand clenching around it while the other found a soda.  Stanley sighed and opened the can as he flopped into his heavenly recliner.  Ford had no issue telling Stan this information… as long as he didn’t ask for details.  But due to his most recent outburst, Ford doubted that he’d be asked about it soon.  

  “After I was… sucked into the portal I found myself back here.  But it wasn’t my world.   At the time I didn’t know that and messed up many timelines. It seemed that every timeline I got sucked into… it seemed to naturally want to kick me out.  I call this the natural law of anomaly removal.  Then I got arrested by the Time Police.  I call that the unnatural law of anomaly removal.”  Stanford was caught by Dipper’s excited squeaky voice.  

  “Oh!  We know them!”  Dipper exclaimed.  Stanford’s eyebrows raised as he looked at Stan as if looking for confirmation.  He immediately sputtered up the words sprouting up his throat and his brother did the same.  

  “You do?”  The twins glared at each other from across the room as their voices synched up.  Stanford was suddenly hit with a heart churning thought.  Dipper wasn’t referring to anyone in the room when he said ‘we’.  The Stan’s glares morphed into looks of pity as Dipper began to explain the encounter.  

  “So me and… my sister were at a fair.”  Grunkle Stan made sure to cut in.  

  “I hosted it.”  Dipper continued, not acknowledging the remark.  

  “And there was some guy there with a time tape measurer.”  Dipper flipped through Ford’s old Journal to his added parts and showed a drawing of the tape measurer he just mentioned.  “We may or may not have used it to… change the past a little bit… but the only timeline where I got what I wanted was when M- my sister lost waddles.”  Ford smiled.  He’s glad that the kids at least learned a lesson from this.  “Oh but then the guy we stole the tape measurer from wanted revenge so we participated in Globnar.”  Ford sputtered.  These kids participated in the death battle!?  

  “Blog- what’s-a-whoosits?”  Grunkle Stan asked, slightly sitting up in his recliner.  This time his brother answered, pulling out his current journal.  

  “Globnar.”  Ford corrected, “The gladiatorial combat game in Time Baby’s domain.  It’s used to determine justice.  If you win you get a time wish.  You kids must’ve been lucky to be spared-“  Dipper immediately went to correct him.  

  “Oh- no.  We did win.”  

  “You did?”  Ford raised an impressed eyebrow.  

  “Yep!”  

  “Well then what did you wish for?” This question was particularly itching at Ford, if he had the chance to compete he probably would’ve wished for the death of Bill Cipher.  Or maybe some other grueling fate for the interdimensional demon to suffer for all eternity. 

  “We gave it to Soos.”  Dipper said simply.  

  “Well?”  Ford asked, turning to said repair man.  

  “Oh.  I just wished for the little dudes to be fixed up after getting so banged up for me on my birthday.  Hehe.  Oh- and this infinite slice of pizza.”  Soos shrugged, taking the pizza out of his back pocket and taking a bite.  Everyone nodded and shrugged in perfect agreement except for Stan.  

  “Woah, woah, woah.  We’ve been out there risking our lives to scavenge for food- only for you to have an infinite slice of pizza in your back pocket this whole time!?”  Stanley stood up and looked at Soos accusingly.  

  “Look dude.  It was a personal pizza.  It’s not my rules.”  Soos took another hunk of pizza off from the slice which instantly regenerated.  

  “Well, can’t argue with that.”  Stan sat back down. 

  “How did Bill get here?”  Ford asked suddenly.  If his twin’s chair didn’t have a back he would’ve fell off the back of it.  He remained silent for a second- trying to correctly stitch his words together to soften the blow as much as possible.  Sadly for Stanley, he was a terrible tailor.  

  “Stanley!  Answer me.”  Ford exclaimed, sitting up from his box again.  He would’ve approached if it wasn’t for the large scratch on his back tearing through his coat.  He winced and sat back down as he continued to glare at his twin.  

  “I opened it.  But I only opened it to save you!  I’ve been spending the last 30 years trying to get you back and I-“ 

  “Stan, you were using my house as a fake museum.  You read the Journals!  You should’ve known the risks!”  Stanford cut in with a blunt expression.  

  “Oh… right… the multi-timelines… or whatever…” Stanley sighed at the reminder.  His brother already knew most of what had happened since he’s been traveling different universes and observing them.  Stanley still didn’t totally understand what happened, but he knows that his brother knows about the basics of his life.  

  “Were you out of your mind Stanley?  You nearly caused the end of the world!  You endangered the kids!  And now look where it got you!  Bill is out there causing suffering to this entire town.  You know or at least have some idea what that mind demon is like!”  Stanford continued to rant as Stanley averted his gaze to the floor.  

“It doesn't matter now.”  Stanley’s eyes furrowed as he looked up to his brother- surprised that the scolding has stopped so abruptly. 

  “If there’s one thing I learned from traveling Timelines is that no matter what, you’re my family… and I should help you in any way I can.  Dipper,” Ford turned towards his nephew, “We’re saving your sister.” 

~

The room was still tense when the red head reappeared from the upper floors with a med kit.  She approached Ford and handed it to him.  Wendy quickly gave Ford the kit before escaping the room.  

  “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”  Ford quickly went through the supplies he was given before standing up with a wince.  

  “Hey- uh Ford can I talk to you for a second?”  Stanley followed behind his brother like a stray, adjusting his collar.  

  “We just did, Stanley.”  Ford said simply, his pace unyielding.  

  “No… privately.”  Stanley elaborated.  

  “Why won’t you just leave me alone!”  Ford exclaimed, reaching his room’s door and turning the handle.  

  “No- Ford that’s now-“ Stanley tried to explain, but the door was swung open anyway, to reveal Multi-Bear in a large wooden tub.  He was in the middle of mid-Rubber Duck enactment of a Disco Girl concert when he noticed the two men in the doorway.  

  “…Multi-Bear’s washroom…” Stan finished.  

  “Oh come on!”  Ford exclaimed, slamming the door shut.  He grumbled and leaned against the wall beside the room.  He used the surface as support as he sat down on the ground.  The other twin observed in an odd guilty state with a pitiful look.  He watched as Ford unpacked what he needed to treat his wound.  

  “Do… do you.. ’er… don’t suppose I could… tch, don’t know… help you?”  Stan asked, feeling himself grow smaller.  The other glared downwards, the way his eyes darted back and forth showed he was pondering the small-voiced question. His gaze softened at the floor, and then at Stanley.  

  “I suppose wouldn’t mind some… yes.”  The twins smiled at each other for a minute… basking in each other’s nostalgia.  Stanley was the first to break the moment, stepping behind Stanley and sitting down before pausing.  

  “…How do you do this again?”  Ford sighed in his usual disappointment.  And like usual, the fondness in the air revealed his true affection for his brother.  

  “I’ll talk you through it…”  Ford slid the case behind himself for Stanley to use, “Use the alcohol and towel first.  All you gotta do is dump it on the towel and dab it.”  

  “Alright… so… about what you said to Dipper…” Stanley began talking as he tended to his brother’s wound, “Just don’t make promises you can’t keep Sixer.  I don’t wanna hurt the kid… y’know?”  The wounded twin tensed at the nickname, taking note of his own shudder in his breath.  Stanley helped Ford take off his bloodied jacket and set it aside.  He didn’t seem to notice the other’s discomfort.  As a kid, Ford always appreciated the fond nickname.  It made him feel less self conscious about his unusual hands.  Though- the time he had spent with Bill flipped his everything upside down.  Even his feelings about the affectionate nickname.  Stanford decided to be open with his brother.  More open in general.  Especially since he’d be in this timeline for a while.  He’d like to believe forever… but the hope of this actually being his true timeline was slim.  Whatever the case, no matter the universe, this was his brother and he wanted to make amends.

  “I promise you.  I fully intend on getting Mabel back.  And… I appreciate the gesture Stanley… but can you not… call me that anymore?  It’s… what Bill called me.  I hope you understand why it can be a bit unnerving.”  Ford let out a small grunt of pain as the alcohol began to cleanse his wound.  Stanley shrugged.  He was a lot more compliant about the request than Ford expected.  

  “Potato, potáta.  I read yer’ journals.  I know he made you a little messed up in the head for a while there.  I won’t go complaining.”  Stanley said simply, “Back to my first point Ford.  We already have a lot going on- and we’ve been trying to get her back for a while.  Last time Dipper and Wendy went on their own… they got really banged up.  By FUCKING GIDEON!”  In a spurt of anger, Stan hit his fist on the floor.  

  “I’m gonna rip that kid to pieces one of these days.  He’ll see what’s coming.  We are only a month into this mess and barely have enough food to last everyone another one!  Are you sure you can handle this?”  Stanley tilted his head as he finished with disinfecting the gash.  

  “What’s next?” He added.  

  “Bandages.  Take the pad- the fluffier one and grab enough to cover the wound.  Then wrap the plaster around to keep it there.”  Ford decided to answer Stanley’s last question before going onto his earlier concerns.  

  “Trust me.  I can handle this.  Please Stanley.  I want to meet my niece.  Let me help you.  Help her…” Stanford sighed solemnly- before feeling a hand on his shoulder.  

  “Ok.  I’ll trust you- one one condition:  We gotta get some grub first.”  Ford nodded in response and took out one of his journals. 

  “Great!  I’ll start planning.”  Ford began scribbling in his journal and muttering half to himself and to his twin.  “I’m probably gonna need to know what we’re up against.  I’d also like to know how Mabel even got in there- simply to satisfy my own curiosities.  How did the first trial pan-out, and are there guards?  What even is that giant prison of hers…?”  Stanley cut off his brother’s rambles with a simple pat on the other’s shoulder.   

  “Relax.  I’ll fill you in on details later.  For now we need to focus on our ration situation.  All we have left are a couple cans of brown meat and some stale snacks.  Got any ideas?”  Stan asked, as he began to wrap the plaster around his brother’s torso.  

  “There surely has to be more places to go to…  What about the one down the street?  The closed down one?”  Stanley shook his head.  

  “Got stomped out by a set of teeth first week in.”  

  “The mall?”  

  “Got claimed by the oversized centipedes.  Tried.”

  “The pizzeria?”  

  “The pizza is animate.”  

  “My old bunker?”  

  “Your… oh!  That thing!  Now I see where you’re headed.  I knew that brainiac could be used for something other than complicated plans.  Now c’mon.  You’re all patched up.  We’ve got a lot to talk about.”  Stanley stood up and held a hand out to his brother, silently asking him to do the same.  Ford took Stanley’s hand and pulled himself up, gathering the access medical supplies.  

  “That bunker has enough rations til the next century!  Well for two people… but it should be enough.”  Ford began scribbling in his journal.  

  “Well, food is food.”  Stanley shrugged and began walking down the hall.  His brother followed closely behind with the extra supplies.  

  “You can put that in the bathroom.  Let’s hope we won’t need it for a while… I’ll go grab a team to see if we can get those supplies.”  Stan gave a small smile towards Ford- a small sign of appreciation.  But Ford knew this was only a small token of gratitude, and that he’d still have a lot to make up.  

  He still could’ve saved the kids.  The time police still haven’t come after him- even for messing up the timeline.  The amount of times he just watched for fearing the consequences to himself is eye-wrenching.  He watched them fail over, 

  And over

  And over-  

  “Hey, Ford?  You coming?”  Ford shook his head, snapping out of his regret induced daze.  Now wasn’t the time.  

  “I’ll go.”  He said.  He needed to start somewhere.  

  “Go…” Stanley processed the answer for a moment before shaking his head, “oh no buddy.  I just got you back.  Do you honestly think I’m gonna fall for that selfless hero bullshit just so you can run off on me again?!”  Ford sighed.  

  “Stanley, you need to understand- I’m not just gonna let my family sit here while you’re struggling to make ends meet in some… some hellish version of this place I know caused!”  His brother shook his head.  

  “You are helping.  You’re gonna make a plan to get our niece back-“

  “What?  So you guys can go get yourselves killed?!”  Ford continued, “Look Stanley.  You don’t know what I’ve been through.  You have to understand!  I need… I need to fix this-“

  “You can fix this by staying here.”  Stanley growled.  

  “You can’t tell me what to do!”  His brother barked.  Stan huffed.  

  “This is childish,” he stated only because he knew what his brother said was true, “we shouldn’t be fighting like this at the end of the world…” He shook his head and turned away from his brother.  

  “Therefore you should stay.”

  “Stanley-!”  Ford decided to cross his arms and huff, he knew Stan was right on one thing.  This was childish.  He decided to keep his mouth shut on the topic until it arises again.  

“…so… how can we just stay here like sitting ducks?  How has Bill not captured you all by now?”  Stanley seemed grateful for the topic change- instantly jumping on answering.  

  “Now, that genius was all thanks to your nephew Dipper!  He found one of your freaky little spells in one of your journals… apparently he modified it or something?  I don’t know.  I’d talk to him about it.”  Stanley walked away as Ford pondered.  He couldn’t be any more proud of Dipper- he was glad that the boy wanted to protect his family… though Ford couldn’t help but wonder where that unicorn hair came from.   Next chapter finally has some Bill!

[kissorkill16]

Reconciliation: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Aaron ends up staying somewhere he'd least expect.

(P.S., for @spring-vibes-only )

Aaron sprinted out of his house, running on feet he could barely even keep upright. They were starting to turn into jelly.

Mya accidentally fell off the roof, and he couldn't bear to face his father after what he'd just done. So he just ran away.

He thought maybe he'd find a human sized cardboard box he could sleep in for the night, and tomorrow he could find something to eat.

He just kept walking around in circles for what felt like hours, then he bumped into someone.

"Sorry!", he said, backing away. When he looked up to see the man who he'd bumped into, he nearly fainted.

The old Channel 4 station manager, Gordon Cleave.

He was wearing an orange vest and holding a grabbing stick and a garbage bag.

Aaron immediately backed away further and grabbed a brick from off the sidewalk. "You!", he practically shouted, "You're supposed to be in jail!"

Gordon just shrugged, completely unbothered by this kid's little act of bravery. "Yeah, I was. But the judge said he'd shorten my sentence if I took part in community service. Anything to get out of that forsaken shit hole."

A moment of silence.

"What're you doing out here?"

Aaron knew he shouldn't be telling someone who's tried to ruin his family's life in the past, but he felt like he needed to get something off his chest. "I've run away from home.", he said. "My dad's kind of gone a little off the deep end, so..."

"Pfft! A little?", scoffed Gordon. "What about your little sister?"

At the mention of Mya, Aaron felt his eyes fill with tears. He looked at the ground so Gordon couldn't see.

Gordon didn't know why, but something inside him made him bend down and put a hand on Aaron's shoulder, gently rubbing his fingers on it. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally, he said what Aaron least expected.

"Look, I may hate you and your dad's guts, but what if...hypothetically I offered you a place to stay. When I get off, I was thinking about letting you stay back at my place.", he said.

Aaron wasn't so sure about it, but what other choice did he have? He may not have liked the man so much, but staying inside an actual living area was way better than a cardboard box.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Also, if it's a mess when we get home, please excuse it. Dale has trouble cleaning up after himself."

Aaron's eyes widened.

"Dale? As in Detective Dale? As in Officer Tapps?", asked Aaron.

"Yeah. We kinda got together in prison.", replied Gordon. "Judge me, I dare you. Just go sit somewhere and I'll let you know when I get off."

Aaron nodded and sat down next to a tree.

All the while, Gordon was still questioning his decision. He had absolutely no idea how to take care of a child, and he hated kids for as long as he could remember. Plus, he'd tried to hurt this kid more than once, and he wasn't so sure that Dale would be so on board with it.

But maybe it'd all be worth it. Maybe Aaron wouldn't cause too much trouble. After all, the kid seemed old enough to take care of himself for most of the time while him and Dale could work. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

They'd have to set some ground rules, but he was sure things were going to be fine.

Maybe if Aaron was a good child, he might consider adopting him.

(I was going to add something more. Like maybe a hint of smut, but I felt like that wouldn't be extremely necessary, so you just got this. How do you like it?)

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes chapter 24

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It had been three days since Star had run from her home, taking her little brother along with her. She'd left in a rush, not wanting to alarm the people inside. No bags were packed, and no things were taken - they just left with the clothes on their back. Star sighed as she looked at her reflection in the broken mirror of the motelroom she'd broken into. Laddie was fast asleep, snoring loudly.

She tucked him in, making sure he was comfortable before quietly leaving the room. She had to go back. She had to go and get her mom and get answers. How could her grandfather be doing something so horrible that his own daughter was terrified of what he could do to his own grandchildren?

Star quickly walked across the parking lot towards the busy road. Even now, in the middle of the night, cars sped past. She stuck her hand out, standing underneath a streetlight, hoping someone would see her.

She stood there for a while. Cars rushed past her, no one bothering to stop. Only when it began to rain, and she was completely soaked, did an old rusty red car stop. A woman in her late thirties sat behind the steering wheel.

"Are you alright?"

"I need to get to my mom!" Star called out over the heavy rumbling of rain.

"Get in!" The woman popped the door open. "She must be worried sick! What are you doing out here in this weather?"

Star got in and shut the door, shivering slightly. "I got lost on my way home, I lost my wallet, and I've been trying to hitch a ride with someone for the past three hours, but no one stopped."

"Oh dear," the woman looked shocked, not noticing the lies Star just told her. "Well, I am glad I stopped for you, dear. I'm Lucy, by the way. Where do you need to go?"

"Star, and thank you, really." She smiled, directing the woman down the road, leading her all the way to COL.

As the car came to a halt, Star quickly stepped out, thanking Lucy as she did so. Before the kind woman could say anything in return, Star had taken off, running into the woods. She just hoped no one would see her. No guard would spot her and drag her back inside. She needed to get in and out unnoticed, making sure she could take her mom with her and-

She fell backwards as she ran into someone, a large man with angry yellow eyes glaring at her.

"Shit, who are you?!"

"Who am I? What are you doing here? This place is bad news."

"As if I don't know that," Star got up, wiping the dirt from her skirt. "My mom's in there. I need to get her out."

"You know a way in?"

The girl nodded. Max grinned. Ever since the boys had left to go inside, he hadn't been able to contact any of them. David and Dwayne were God knows where, Max really had no clue, and Marko and Paul nad disappeared into the building. Ever since that happened, he had lost the feeling of being controlled by someone - which, on one hand, caused him to feel a little more at ease, but on the other hand worried him. The lack of control on him meant - most likely - that that control was exercised on someone else.

"I'm Max. They got my daughter in there and my sons. I'll make you a deal," he looked at the girl, glad to see she was open to his proposal. "I'll help you get your mom out if you help me find my kids."

Star thought about it for a moment, looking at him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because, dear," Max' face changed shape, becoming more batlike, "I am the muscle you need to get past the guards."

Star nodded, thinking to herself, not allowing herself to get freaked out by the man in front of her. She needed to fix this, and she could freak out later, when it was more convenient. "Alright. But we get my mom out first."

"We get them all out in order of who we come across first." Max said, a finality in his tone making it clear to Star that there was no point in arguing.

Lucien sighed disappointedly as he saw Julie. Her dazed expression, her lack of fear or emotional recoil - it saddened him. He enjoyed his games, and when a participant didn't want to play anymore, it was simply time to clear the playing field.

"Juliebug, " he crouched down in front of her, forcing her to look at him, "I really don't get why you're so afraid. After all, I never hurt you. Doctor Gregory did. Not me."

Julie glared at him, trying to look away, but his hold on her chin got only stronger. She winced in pain as she felt the bone protest against the force practiced upon it.

"No, I only ever brought you sweet release. I brought you life," he grinned, showing his fangs, "I brought you a family."

Julie pushed him away. No. He did not give her life. He did not give her a family. He fed her lies, he messed with her minds and memories, and he ruined what was supposed to be a wonderful human life. She got up, taking in a deep breath as she tried to steady herself. This was it. She needed to concentrate.

"Ah!" Lucien laughed, getting up himself as well. "I hoped you'd be willing to fight more."

Julie didn't bother to listen to him, instead attacking the second he moved up from the ground. It was easy to get him off balance, to pin him on the ground. She pinned him down. He trashed against her, hands pushing against her chest, her throat, her face - but Julie didn't let go. She pushed back. When a hand wrapped around her neck, she gasped for air. She snarled at him. She lashed out, her long, sharp vampire nails digging deep into his eyesocket. Lucien screamed, clutching his eye. Julie slashed again, opening up his wrist. Again. Opening up his chest. Once, twice.

She was covered in blood, covered in sweat and tears, but Lucien didn't give up. He didn't back down. When she looked away for a mere second, distracted by a loud thump above her, she was thrown across the room. Before she crashed against the wall, she redirected herself. Flying up into the air, she tried to jump Lucien, but he was on to her. He grabbed her foot, dragging her down and slamming her into the ground.

A silent scream escaped her as she felt her arm being ripped out of its socket as he lifted her up and slammed her down again. She gasped for air. Lucien grinned as he stood over her, lifting her up and slamming her against the wall.

Cracks formed in the concrete where she'd collided, pieces of rock falling down. Julie laid there between the ruble, struggling to get up. She leaned on her arms, one of them giving out the second she put any force on it.

"Are you done yet? You can't win from me, fledgling. I am your sire, I control -"

Lucien flew backwards. Julie landed on top of him, a large red brick in her hands as she pinned him down to the ground. Lucien laughed loudly, noticing how desperate the girl seemed. But then the brick hit his face, his damaged eye officially popping out. Then she hit again, his nose breaking. Again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

David silently cursed to himself as he realised he had lost sight of the van. He and Dwayne had promised her that they'd be there for her every step of the way, but now? As quickly as they could, they drove through the streets, making their way down the highway. They sped past cars, moving left and right to avoid crashing into them.

"We'll get there in time!" Dwayne called out. He was a couple of feet behind David.

"We better!" David sped up even more, moving off the freeway as he saw a sign stating Berkeley was close by. Dwayne quickly followed. They dropped their bikes in the woods near the main street, deciding to fly the rest of the way. It would be faster, and the chances of them being seen would be minimalized.

Quickly, they flew through the night, seeing a building rise at the horizon. It was the same building Max had described to them hours before, the same building Julie was held at.

Dwayne was the first to land, landing on the edge of the roof. "She's here," he said, sighing with worry. "Max is still outside, but the others are inside as well."

"Max was supposed to go in," David hissed, annoyance lacing his voice. "Motherfucker."

"Let's make sure we find Julie first. Afterwards we can deal with Max."

They walked across the roof, David easily ripping the metal door of the roof entrance of its hinges. Quietly, the two men stepped inside, swiftly walking down the stairs, making sure they didn't make a single sound. They opened the door at the end of the stairs, ending up in a dark, carpeted hallway.

David was about to say something when they heard a man's laughter. They looked at each other without saying another word.

They flew down the hallway, crashing into the room where they'd heard the man. David and Dwayne looked up, seeing the same man whose head they'd seen in that box days before. Seeing him laugh as his face was being smashed to pieces by Julie, who was crying tears of anger as she smashed the brick in her hands down and down again on his face. Pieces of blood, skin, eye and brain stuck to it, creating a sickening noise as she pulled the rock away only to bring it down again with such force that the remainders of the skull scattered to pieces.

Next chapter > available on September 29th

[deevotee]

LIZZIE COMPLIMENTING BARDROY IS SO DAMN CUTE 😭

[muchmossymess]

I need to stop sleeping all day its giving me wild as fuck dreams

[akkivee]

i feel very seen as someone who draws buff kuukou lmao

[coconut530]

BAD TECH CULT. BAD. 💛📦🗣️🪤🖤

[gierosajie]

Kinda funny how there's the occasional kid half my height that would wordlessly approach and proceed to punch me in the gut for no reason other than they can

Like bro, I don't even know most of those kids and I was just minding my business at the side with my friends afjdkcfj

[adreamfromnevermore]

AU Where the Justice League forms as usual except for one slight difference where Bruce just so happens to have been the one superheroing for the longest. (Excluding Diana, who got up to it in World War 1 and then mostly didn't while she learned about Man's World)

Bruce helps form the Justice League, ignoring all of the comments as they come to the sudden realization that Gotham's baby cryptid story is actually a man in a very intimidating armored suit who can and will break your arm if you cause problems for him. They are unaware that this is not the first team he's led, and actually he's used to teams full of mostly teenagers who also happen to be his children. This should be easier, this team is primarily adults.

He realizes rapidly that he doesn't understand these people.

His kids take bonding activities to mean learning a dozen different ways to break someones leg. That doesn't fly with these people. And that is most of Bruce's ideas, hell when he was a kid Alfred took every opportunity to get him out of his room and mostly that was with the agreement that Alfred would teach him how to defend himself. He's come by it honestly.

This team is not easier. They have more drama than when his house was actually full of kids. It's insane. He doesn't know what to do with it, usually he just sent the kids to their rooms or grounded them from patrol. That doesn't work here.

He comes to a strange crossroads. That falls apart when he forgets who he's working with and snaps at Hal with a full room of heroes that the next person to throw a punch or an insult without a reason too will be sparring with him.

A long standing rule in the batcave that worked two fold to prevent infighting between the kids and too ensure that they were well and truly trained.

It works wonders. No one says a word out of line for the rest of the debrief. Bruce becomes the unofficial mediator of the league over Clark because anytime he walked in on a fight it suddenly became 10 times more civil out of sheer terror of what he'd do to them in a sparring match.

Eventually they actually meet his kids. Well, one kid.

Half way through a mission (one of the rare ones in Gotham) the Bat comes to a complete stop at the edge of an alley. Every single league member on the team comes to a stop behind him. Slowly from the shadows of the alley a man in a red helmet stalks out to greet them.

"You don't call, you don't write"

"Red Hood."

"Don't Red Hood me! We've been worried sick!"

"I was at the cave last night."

"You didn't answer my texts B. You always answer my texts."

Somehow it ends with big and scary following them through the rest of the mission with a running commentary of how much Bats has let him down in his failure to respond in a timely manner to a text send less than an hour before he ran into them in the alley. It only ends when Red Robin shows up.

And even then it only ends because Hood can't keep himself from throwing a punch and Bruce has to snap at him that if he throws another one they're sparring when they get home.

And by god is Jason giving up the chance to punch his brothers.

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

[nyancrimew]

confession. when i was like 13 i had the biggest fattest gay ass crush on this guy right. but i didn’t know his name but i wanted to ask him where he got his comics because i had recently gotten into spider-man and he was basically just known as “comic book kid”.

so i ran up to him on a skateboard (that was not mine!!) and went “HEY UH. NERD.” and he looked up and then i very meekly went “…where do you get your comics.” he said something to the effect of “um. [store].” and then ran off. all around i think 13 year old me had okay taste in men. i just think this story is funny idk. like i didn’t even know his name i was just like WOW. nerd boy. it’s not a really strange one i just think it’s funny that i greeted him as “nerd” like some kind of high school movie bully and then badly skateboarded in the opposite direction because i didn’t actually know how to skate

😭

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"You’re arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC De-Aged Triplets and Their Tired Single Sister

Jason has seen the four of them a couple of times in Crime Alley now. They looked like a family, what with similar facial features- err, actually, the kids looked like carbon copies of each other, but their mom/sister/aunt/cousin looked similar enough to be related to them by blood.

Normally, Jason didn't care for each and every family that moved into Crime Alley. Sure, he cared about all of them as a whole, but there were a lot of people, and he couldn't possibly get elbow deep in every life story he came across. So all he knew about them were three things: a) they were on the run from someone or something, b) they trusted each other and no one else, and c) apparently, they have made it their life goal to never make any kind of sense.

The list of shit they have gotten into included but was not limited to:

• one of the kids biting a gun. Not the hand of the attacker who was holding it, no, the actual gun. And he bit a piece of it clean off, which earned him - or her, actually, Jason knew one of the triplets was a girl but he couldn't tell them apart - a lecture from their... mom? sister? parental figure. The lecture was about how chewing metal does not help with iron deficiency.

• getting kidnapped and creeping out their kidnapper to the point of him returning the kids back home. A few witnesses said one of the kids was actually driving, sitting on the kidnappers lap behind the steering wheel and cheerfully commanding the man to speed up or brake. Their mom actually apologized to the kidnapper for the incident and offered him homemade cookies for his troubles. He ran away without them.

• driving a lady at the laundromat insane by repeatedly walking inside and climbing into one of the washing machines. They never got out of it, just one kid walking into the laundromat, climbing into washing machine, then another kid, looking exactly like the previous one, walking inside, climbing into the same washing machine, then another kid walking into the laundromat- well, you get the idea. The lady claimed she's seen at least five kids do that in a row, but when she looked into that washing machine, there was no one inside.

• casually falling out of windows. Or, better, walking out of them like they were doors, at any given opportunity. The witness - an old man who was helping their mom with groceries - said the mom did not care in the slightest, and when he asked her about it, obviously concerned, she just said, tired and exasperated, 'they like the feeling of free fall, don't worry, they'll come back in a minute'. Sure enough, they did, not a scratch on them. The family lived on the sixth floor.

• eating insane amounts of food. Jason personally witnesses their mom give them her wallet, telling the kids, 'eat until you're full', and promptly passing out on the table, her head on her arms. The kids then proceeded to eat four whole pizzas, three burgers each, then seven brownies and at least five cups of soda. What was interesting about it was not only the amount of food they ate but the way they never left their mom unattended, one of the kids always staying beside her sleeping figure as the other two went to order.

And now, all four of them were standing in front of him. Not Jason Todd him, but Red Hood him. And he was... confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, can you watch them for a few hours? Three, maybe four," the mom, Jazz as she introduced herself, was looking at him like it was he who was speaking nonsense, not her. Because asking a crime lord to watch three kids in the middle of the night is not something a sane person would do.

"Why?" He asks, bewildered, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

"I need to kill a man, and if they come with me, it will take three times longer," Jazz tells him. Is she saying the kids slow her down or what? Jason can admit he's never been this confused in his entire life.

"You could ask me to kill a man, while you stay with them, no?" He tries to reason, but the girl waves him off:

"No, that will take even longer. Besides, no offense, but you kill people to simply end their life, and I need that man to fucking stop existing forever."

What's the difference he almost wants to ask. But instead of that, he just sighs.

"Why me? I'm sure you could find a babysitter-"

"No babysitter will handle them. The last one told me they have been running laps on the ceiling, which is, actually, not that big of a deal. They are kids. Kids like running around," she huffs, and Jason suspects she is missing the point here, but okay. He gets why babysitters are not an option.

"You do understand what they can witness if they stay here?" He asks, as the last attempt to reason with the girl, but she just nods and leans down, making all the kids turn to her.

"Okay, you menaces, tell me what not to do while you're staying with Mr. Red Hood."

"No eating people," one kid starts.

"No driving people insane," the other one continues.

"No, um, stealing eyeballs," the third one finishes, and what the fuck are those ground rules? Is this girl a mother to eldrith horrors? That would explain some shit.

Jazz turns to him, "See? They're all good."

In what world is that good? Jason debates if he should start running now or when she leaves.

"Do they have names?" He asks instead. The girl nods:

"Danny." His surprise must be evident even through the mask because she sighs and points to each kid, "Diane, Daniel, Dante. Dani, Danny, and Dan. Actually, you know what, let's make this easier," she rummages through her bag and gets a marker out before gesturing to the kids, "Come here."

As they do, she proceeds to draw numbers 1, 2, and 3 on their foreheads. Then she nods to Hood and puts the marker away.

"Okay, that's better. Behave, you monsters, I'll be back soon!"

After she leaves, Jason looks down at the kids. They also look at him, eerie and unblinking.

Finally, one of them - number 2, Dani, if he is not mistaken - asks:

"Do you want teeth? We have a lot."

"She doesn't mean her teeth," number 1 clarifies, "She means other teeth."

...This is going to be some very long three hours.