#firing some shots in this fandom tonight

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

"Steve and Robin are platonic soulmates, and take the priority over everyone else, including their romantic partners" I say into a mike. The crowd boos. I walk off in shame before someone in the back says 'she's right' it's Joe keery and maya hawke

[thewulf]

Sunflowers and Second Chances || Darrel "Darry" Curtis

Summary: Request - Can you do a Darry x Winston sister reader? Maybe she's Dallas's twin or like a year younger and he's just super protective over her. I was thinking maybe the two of them show up for a bonfire at the park with some greasers and reader forgets her jacket. She's shivering by the fire and Darry (ever the gentleman) gives her his jacket.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Def went overboard but mannnn do i LOVE writing for The Outsiders. This will NEVERR be a dead fandom for as long as I am alive hahaha. please keep sending these my way! I'd love to try a Sodapop or even Ponyboy :) Enjoy!

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: General The Outsiders

It wasn’t that cold when you and Dallas left your shared apartment for the evening. After nagging and bothering you for what felt like hours Dallas had finally won, he was getting you to go to the annual start of summer bonfire. A tried-and-true greaser tradition. It wasn’t really your scene, most of the time. But at the mention that Darrel Curtis was going to be there you’d changed your tune rather quickly. Dallas knew of your little crush on the eldest Curtis brother. Because of course he did. He wasn’t dumb. Quite the opposite really. He caught your longing glances for Darry pretty early on. Your cute crush only got slightly concerning for Dally when he started noticing Darry throwing the same looks your way.

Dallas might’ve used Darry as the excuse to get you out of the house. See, Dallas had never taken school seriously, but you always have. He was worried you were spending far too much of your limited time studying or doing homework instead of being an actual teenager.

As you and Dallas strolled through the dimly lit streets toward the outskirts of town where the bonfire was blazing, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that ripped through your body. Dallas, your favorite charismatic troublemaker, seemed to sense your nerves and threw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a rough but reassuring squeeze.

"So, kid sister, what's got you all wound up tonight, huh?" Dallas smirked. His eyes gleaming mischievously in the faint glow of the streetlights.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just looking forward to hanging out with the guys, I guess. Haven’t seen them in a while is all."

Dallas shot you a knowing look, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Uh-huh, the guys sure thing. Are you sure it’s not one guy? Don't think I haven't noticed those puppy-dog eyes you've been throwing at Darry lately." He had a habit of calling you out on your bullshit, even if it made you uncomfortable.

Your cheeks flushed at that comment. You stuttered in protest, but Dallas just laughed, his voice rumbling with amusement. "Relax, kid, ain't no crime in having a crush. But who knows, maybe tonight's the night you finally make a move." He winked knowing that was a load of crap. You’d never make a move on Darry, wouldn’t even dream of it. In his eyes you were Dallas’ baby sister. He could never see you like that.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that bubbled in your chest at the mere thought of it. Darrel Curtis was everything you found attractive in a man - strong, dependable, and with a heart of gold hidden beneath his tough exterior. The idea that he might feel even a fraction of what you felt for him sent your pulse racing. But you knew better, knew better than to get your hopes up.

The two of you approached the bonfire, the familiar sight of your friends greeted you. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sound of laughter, with the occasional burst of music from someone's battered radio. It felt like home. You and Dallas had finally found it after years of moving and running.

Dallas led you through the throngs of people, his boisterous laughter mingling with the chatter of the others. Until you finally caught sight of Darry standing by himself next to the fire. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a few beats. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling acutely aware of every movement, every breath. Dallas nudged you playfully with his elbow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he gave you a not-so-subtle wink before sauntering off to join the other greasers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you squared your shoulders and made your way over to where Darry stood, his eyes never leaving yours. And as you drew closer, the crackle of the fire seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears, “Hi.” You smiled up at him once you got within ear shot.

He smiled right back at you. His annoyed face melted away once you got close. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. What a treat.” He smirked loving the little game the two of you shared when it was just the two of you. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had developed a not so innocent crush on you. Dallas Winston’s little sister. Probably the worst girl to have a crush on. But how could he not? You stepped up and helped him in ways he could’ve never imagined after his parents passed. You pulled Pony and Soda along right with you instead of letting them drown in grief. You were an angel. His angel.

Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn’t shake off the chill that seeped into your bones. You cursed yourself for forgetting your jacket, but with the comforting heat of the fire so close, you hadn't noticed the cold until now. Darry glanced down at you once you were standing next to him, sensing your discomfort. "Are ya’ cold, Y/N?"

You nodded, teeth chattering slightly. "Yeah, just a bit."

Without a word, Darry shrugged off the leather jacket he had on. "Here," he said, draping it over your shoulders. "You shouldn't be freezing out here." While it fit him it was about three sizes too large for you. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise as Darry's jacket enveloped you, radiating warmth and carrying his distinct scent. Grateful, you offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Darry."

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, Y/N. Don't want you catching a cold."

As the night wore on, you huddled closer to the fire, Darry's jacket shielding you from the biting cold. Despite the flames eventually dying down and the group dispersing, the memory of Darry's protective gesture lingered, a comforting presence in the darkness of the night.

In the dim light, you caught Darry's eye and offered him a silent expression of gratitude. He returned it with a nod, silently promising to always look out for you. Feeling a warmth not just from the jacket but also from his concern, you find yourself drawn to him. "Thanks again, Darry. Dallas rushed me out of the apartment. You know I’m not usually so forgetful." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of flirtation you can't quite suppress.

Darry's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. "No problem, Y/N," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "I’m sure it’s not easy being Dally’s sister."

You chuckle at his teasing tone, enjoying the banter that flowed so effortless between the two of you. "You could say that again. Guess I owe you one though," you say playfully, nudging him with your elbow.

Darry's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your spine for an entirely different reason. "Oh, I'll be sure to collect on that debt," he murmurs, his gaze intense yet tender.

Your heart nearly stops at his words, and you find yourself blushing despite the chill in the air. Maybe forgetting your jacket wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Just as you're about to respond to Darry's playful banter, a familiar voice interrupted you from behind. "Well, well, what do we have here? Little sis all blushy-cheeked and heart eyes on our very own Darrel Curtis?" Dallas's voice carries a teasing edge, his smirk evident even in the dim light. He knew how much you not so secretly liked the oldest Curtis brother. You may not have said anything to him, but it was evident in the way you looked at him. Dallas knew eyes couldn’t hide much. That’s how he also knew the oldest Curtis brother felt the same about you. So, he did what any older brother would do, tease the shit out of the both of you.

You turn to see Dallas walking over, his usual cocky demeanor in full force. But something about the way he looks at you, a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite place, makes you more nervous than ever. Darry stiffens slightly beside you, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. His jaw clenches, and you notice a subtle tension in his shoulders.

"Easy there, Darry," Dallas continues, his grin widening. "I'm just messing with my kid sister. No need to get all uptight Curtis." He had a full-on grin now not realizing the damage he was causing between the blooming relationship that had yet to begin.

You shoot Dallas a playful glare, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Ignore him, Darry. He's just being annoying, as usual." You turned back to the man standing beside you, closer than you remember from just moments ago.

But Darry's gaze remains fixed on Dallas, a silent warning in his eyes. "Nothing’s happened Dallas.” The joyful tone in his voice from moments ago had vanished sending you into a minor panic as the two most important men in your life stood there staring at each other.

Dallas raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. "Alright, alright, no need to get all serious," he says, taking a step back. "I'll leave you two alone. Doing whatever you were doing.”

As Dallas walks away, you feel a pang of disappointment wash over you knowing that something was suddenly amiss. You glance at Darry, hoping to see his usual warmth and playfulness, but instead, you find him distant, his gaze fixed on the ground. He was thinking and thinking hard at that.

"Hey, everything okay?" you ask, reaching out to touch his arm.

When he pulled away from you sharply you tried to hide the disappointment evident in your gaze on him. Darry looks up, his expression guarded. "I’m sorry. I just... I can't do this. Not with Dallas being your brother," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart sank as Darry's words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between the two of you. But now, faced with his rejection, you felt a wave of embarrassment and hurt wash over you. You tried to hide the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, forcing a weak smile as you withdrew his jacket from your shoulders. "I understand," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "It's okay, Darry. I-I didn't mean to make things awkward." You handed him the too big leather jacket back. You didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes as he took it back from you.

But before Darry could respond, you turned on your heel and began to walk away, the weight of his rejection heavy on your shoulders. You could feel the eyes of the other greasers on you as you made your way through the crowd, their whispers echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of your own vulnerability.  You were halfway down the street when you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Startled, you turned to find Dallas standing there, his expression unusually serious. "Y/N, wait," he said, his voice soft yet urgent. "What happened back there?"

You tried to brush off his concern, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing, Dallas. Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

But Dallas wasn't buying it, his gaze piercing through your facade. "Bullshit," he said bluntly. "I saw the way Darry was looking at you. And I saw the way you looked at him." He grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once again, unable to hold them back any longer. The floodgates opened, and all the pent-up emotions came pouring out, overwhelming you with their intensity. Dallas's grip on your arm softened, his expression shifting from skepticism to concern as he watched the tears stream down your cheeks.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice laced with worry. “What happened?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to speak. "It's Darry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "He doesn’t want me because... because he's worried about what you'll think or something."

Dallas's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, mustering the courage to explain. "I don’t know. It was fine then it wasn’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You were teasing us, and he... he thinks you don't approve. I don’t know Dallas he didn’t give me a reason. Just said he couldn’t do it."

Dallas's eyes widened in realization, a mixture of guilt and frustration flashing across his features. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just messing around, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Dallas's distress. "I know, Dallas," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "But sometimes things don't turn out the way we expect them to."

Dallas's shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sincerely, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you or Darry. You know that, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought to hold back the tears threatening to keep spilling from your eyes. "I know, Dal," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Without hesitation, Dallas pulled you into a comforting brotherly hug, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. You felt a sense of warmth and security wash over you, knowing that no matter what happened, you had Dallas by your side, always ready to support you through thick and thin.As you leaned into his embrace, Dallas's protective instincts kicked in, his mind buzzing with thoughts of how to fix the situation. But before he could voice his intentions, you pulled away slightly, a pleading look in your eyes.

"Dallas, please," you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "Don't do anything rash. I don't want things to get any more complicated than they already are."

Dallas's expression softened as he registered your plea, his gaze filled with concern. "I just can't stand the thought of Darry hurting you like this," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "He's being so damn thick-headed, and it makes me want to sock him one right in the jaw."

You shook your head, a firmness in your voice. "No, Dallas, no fighting with your brothers," you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll figure this out without anyone throwing punches. Let's just leave it be for now, okay? I don't want anything to happen when everyone is emotional."

Dallas hesitated, his jaw tense with the effort of restraining himself. But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the conviction in them, he relented. "Alright, Y/N," he conceded, his voice quieter now, but still edged with frustration. "We'll do it your way. But I swear, if he keeps hurting you, I won't be able to hold back."

You gave him a grateful smile, appreciating his loyalty but relieved that he agreed to your terms. "Thank you, Dallas," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "For respecting my wishes."

Dallas nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always, kid," he replied, his voice softening with affection. "Now, let's go inside and take a breather. We'll figure out our next move when we're all thinking straight."

As you followed Dallas into the apartment, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for his support and understanding. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't fight the urge to collapse onto the couch, the events of the evening catching up with you all at once.

Dallas lingered nearby for a moment, watching over you with a protective gaze. He hesitated, torn between staying by your side and his burning desire to confront Darry. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, he made his decision.

Quietly, Dallas slipped out of the apartment once you were fast asleep on the couch, leaving you to rest, and made his way towards the Curtis house. Determination fueled his steps as he navigated the dimly lit streets, his mind focused on one goal: to talk some sense into Darry.

When he finally reached the Curtis house, he didn't bother with niceties. Instead, he pounded on the door with a forceful urgency, his knuckles rapping against the wood in a demanding rhythm. Soda was the one to answer the door, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in Dallas's agitated demeanor. "Dallas? What's going on, man?"

But Dallas didn't waste any time with explanations. Without a word, he brushed past Soda, his eyes scanning the living room in search of Darry. He didn't care about being polite or waiting for an invitation. All he cared about was finding the one who made his sister cry. Soda called after him, his voice tinged with confusion and concern, but Dallas paid him no mind. His focus was singular, his determination unwavering as he sought out Darry, ready to have a long-overdue conversation that would hopefully set things right.

Dallas's footsteps echoed loudly as he made his way towards the backyard, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and concern. He found Darry leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, while Ponyboy sat nearby, a troubled expression on his face. Without preamble, Dallas stormed over to Darry, his eyes blazing with intensity. "What the hell is wrong with you, Darry?" he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. "You made my sister cry, and for what? Because you're too damn stubborn to see what's right in front of you?"

Darry looked up, startled by Dallas's sudden outburst. "Dallas, what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Ponyboy, sensing the tension in the air, glanced nervously between his older brother and what felt like his second one. "Guys, what's going on?" he asked tentatively, his brow furrowing with concern.

"What's going on is that Darry's being a complete idiot," Dallas snapped, his frustration boiling over. "He's too blind to see that Y/N cares about him, and he's pushing her away because of it."

Darry's expression softened, his defenses crumbling under Dallas's relentless barrage. "Dallas, it's not that simple," he protested weakly, but Dallas wasn't having any of it.

"Not that simple?" Dallas echoed incredulously, his voice rising with every word. "You think you're doing her a favor by pushing her away? You're just hurting her, Darry. And you're too damn stubborn to see it."

Ponyboy watched the exchange in silence, his eyes darting between the two brothers with a mixture of concern and apprehension. He knew better than to intervene when Dallas was in one of his moods. Finally, Darry let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Dallas," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "I just... I don't know how to do this. I'm not good at this stuff."

Soda, who had been observing from the doorway, stepped forward with a smirk playing on his lips. "You got that right, Darry," he interjected, his tone teasing. "You're allergic to pretty girls."

Ponyboy couldn't help but chuckle at Soda's remark, a small smile breaking through the tension that hung in the air. Darry sighed, shaking his head at Soda's comment, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, Soda," he said wryly, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "But I guess I'll just have to figure it out."

Dallas leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to Ponyboy's words. "Yeah, she's got a heart of literal gold, man," he chimed in, nodding in agreement. "I've seen it. She's too kind for this world sometimes."

Ponyboy nodded fervently, his eyes reflecting admiration. "Absolutely. Remember that time when she stood up for Johnny when those guys were picking on him? She didn't even hesitate. Just marched right over there and gave them a piece of her mind."

Soda grinned, his eyes sparkling with fondness. "And she's always nice to everyone, even those stuck-up Socs who don't deserve it," he added, his voice full of admiration.

Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile at his brothers' words, despite himself. "Yeah, she's something else, that's for sure," he mused, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "But sometimes, I worry she's too good for her own good."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before Soda broke it with a chuckle. "Well, Darry, you might just have to deal with it," he teased, nudging his brother playfully. "After all, love's got its own way of figuring things out."

Darry rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, you're right Soda," he conceded, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he thought about you. "I just hope I can keep up."

The brothers shared a knowing look, a silent understanding passing between them as they contemplated the impact you had made on their lives. Dallas leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "You know, Darry, you gotta give yourself some credit too," he said, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "She sees something in you, man. She wouldn't stick around if she didn't believe in you."

Darry shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, Dallas, but... I've messed up so many times," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've let her down more times than I can count."

Ponyboy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Darry's shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "But what matters is how you learn from them."

Soda nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You gotta show her, Darry," he chimed in, his voice firm. "You gotta show her that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Darry sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know," he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. "I just... I don't know if I'm capable of being the person she deserves."

Dallas shook his head, his eyes locking with Darry's. "You are, man," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "But you gotta start believing it yourself. You gotta start believing that you're worthy of her love."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as Darry let Dallas' words sink in. And as he sat there, surrounded by his brothers, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring deep within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right with you. Maybe there was still a chance for them after all.

Dallas let out a gruff laugh, a hint of his usual tough demeanor creeping back into his expression. "Alright, enough of this mushy crap," he declared, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "I swear to God, if this gets back to her or you say some soft shit, I'll kick all your asses."

Ponyboy chuckled nervously, shooting a glance at Soda and Darry. "Got it, Dallas," he replied, trying to suppress a grin.

Soda raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no worries, man," he said with a smirk. "Our lips are sealed."

Darry nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Dallas," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

Dallas gave them all a nod before pushing himself off the wall. "Alright, I’m out out of here before I start feeling like I need to hug it out or something," he quipped, striding towards the door with his usual gate. He hoped you had stayed sleeping on the couch as he made his way back to your shared apartment.

The next day, Darry found himself restless, pacing back and forth in his room as he wrestled with his overwhelming sense of guilt. Every step he took felt heavy, burdened by the weight of regret that had settled like a stone in his chest. He knew he had hurt you deeply, and the thought churned his stomach with unease. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Darry couldn't shake off the nervous fluttering in his chest as he clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.

Darry found himself seized by a sudden determination to make things right with you. He knew that a simple apology wouldn't be enough – he needed to show her just how much she meant to him. And that's when he remembered the little details about her that he cherished.

With a sense of purpose driving him forward, Darry made his way to a nearby flower shop. The bustling streets seemed to blur around him as he searched for the perfect bouquet, his mind focused solely on one thing: your beautiful smile that brightened his day. He rifled through the colorful array of blooms, his heart racing with anticipation as he sought out the flowers that would convey his heartfelt apology and adoration.

And then, amidst the vibrant sea of petals, he found them – sunflowers. They stood tall and proud, their golden faces turned towards the sun, just like Y/N's radiant spirit. Darry's heart swelled with certainty as he reached out to carefully select the most beautiful blooms, knowing that they would bring a ray of sunshine to your day.

But as he stood at the checkout counter, a sudden doubt crept into his mind. How did he know that sunflowers were her favorite? Had she ever mentioned it to him before, in passing? Or was it just a gut feeling, a subconscious knowledge born from the countless hours they had spent together? For a moment, Darry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. But then he remembered the way your eyes had lit up the last time you had passed a house that was growing them, how you had exclaimed with delight at the sight. And in that moment, he knew – sunflowers were your favorite, and he was determined to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

As he made his way to your apartment, each footfall echoed with the rhythm of his racing heart. The short journey felt like an eternity, his mind filled with worry and doubt. What if you were still upset with him? What if you didn't want to see him? The uncertainty gnawed at him, threatening to consume him with fear. He couldn't bear the thought of facing your disappointment, knowing that he was the cause of your pain.

With trembling hands, Darry finally reached your doorstep. He took a moment to steady his nerves, drawing in a deep breath to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. But no amount of preparation could ease the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he raised his hand to knock on the door. Each rap of his knuckles felt like a thunderclap, reverberating through the silence of the neighborhood, and echoing the tumultuous turmoil in his own heart.

For a fleeting moment, Darry hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly in the air. He couldn't help but worry that you would be furious with him, that you would turn him away without a second thought. The thought made his pulse quicken with apprehension, his palms growing slick with sweat as he grappled with his fear of rejection. But deep down, he knew he couldn't let his fear hold him back. He had to face you, to confront the consequences of his actions and make amends for the pain he had caused. With a silent prayer on his lips, Darry squared his shoulders and knocked once more, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

As the door swung open, revealing your surprised expression, Darry felt his heart almost stop. He could see the shock flicker across your features as you took in the sight of him standing there, a bouquet of sunflowers clutched tightly in his hand. But then, to his relief, your expression softened, your eyes lighting up with warmth and affection.

"Darry?" Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

Darry swallowed hard. His throat suddenly dry. He extended the bouquet towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "For you," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your face, brightening his mood with its warmth. "These are my favorite! How did you know?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with delight as you reached out to accept the flowers. You pushed the door open letting him in as your searched for a vase for your sunflowers.

Darry felt a weightlifting off his shoulders at your reaction, a sense of relief flooding through him. Maybe he hadn't completely messed things up after all. "Just a lucky guess," he replied with a shy grin, though deep down, he knew it was more than just luck. He had been paying attention, learning the little things that made you happy, and he was determined to make it up to her.

Darry watched as your smile grew wider, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of happiness seeing you so pleased with the flowers. "I'm glad you like them," he said, his voice soft with sincerity.

You wrapped your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and Darry felt his heart swell with warmth at the gesture. "Thank you, Darry," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

The embrace felt like a balm to Darry's soul, soothing the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued him since last night. But as he held you close, he knew there was still something he needed to address, something he couldn't ignore any longer.

"I need to apologize, Y/N," Darry began, his voice tinged with regret. "I was a jerk last night at the bonfire. I shouldn't have dismissed you like that."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Darry, it's okay," you reassured him, though there was a hint of hurt in your eyes.

But Darry shook his head, his gaze earnest. "No, it's not okay," he insisted, his voice firm. "You deserved better than that, and I'm sorry for treating you like you didn't matter."

Your expression softened as you listened to Darry's heartfelt apology, and a sense of understanding washed over you. "I forgive you, Darry," you replied, reaching out to gently caress his cheek. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Darry felt a wave of relief wash over him at your forgiveness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make it up to you somehow, to show you just how much you meant to him. As he looked into your eyes, he could see the depth of your care and affection reflected back at him, and it filled him with a sense of gratitude. He realized in that moment just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

A mischievous glint sparked in Darry's eyes as he felt a surge of confidence coursing through him. "You know, since we're both feeling so forgiving and all," he began, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "how about I make it up to you by taking you on a proper date?"

Your eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. "A date?" you echoed, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Darry nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah, a date," he confirmed, his tone filled with determination. "How about we go to that fancy restaurant downtown? The one with the candlelit tables and that amazing carbonara dish you love. I know it's your favorite."

A delighted laugh bubbled up from your lips at his suggestion, and Darry felt a surge of pride knowing that he had guessed right. "You remembered," you said, your voice filled with warmth.

Darry shrugged nonchalantly, though his heart swelled with satisfaction at your reaction. "Of course, I remembered," he replied with a wink, his flirtatious side coming out to play. "I pay attention to the important stuff. You're the important stuff."

And as you laughed and agreed to the date, Darry couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within him. Maybe this was the start of something new, something wonderful – a chance to show you just how much you meant to him, and to make up for his past mistakes with little moments like these.

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[trashlama]

Heeeeeyyyyy.... guess who's ADHD can't let them write for shit?~ This bitch✨~

I suuuuuucck guys I know! I did a poll and everything just so I would have to write some of these! I just couldn't help but get side tracked.... My brain is in the LMK and Spiderverse fandoms!!! Though I will say I basically got this Rise Donnie x Big Mama Assistant req almost done. Almost I say. We'll see if I post it in the next two days and not something else random instead.... I suck lol

Anyways— here's my 3am thoughts from the other night that I'm finish up tonight ironically at 3am again. Soooo bare with me these are basically a bunch of summaries/plots/not fully flushed out possible one shot ideas I might do. Probably could've re-read it a couple more times buuuuttt it's about to be 4 now so....

I hope you guys enjoy!

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

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Sooooo I was going through the Across the Spiderverse tag(specifically Miguel O'Hara) because you know he's hot. Priorities— Anyways— I kinda had an idea. Brahhzz what if I just took the whole Miguel kidnapping his dead wife/lover's alternate dimensional copy deal that everyone has been throwing around and introduced a new take on this tale?

We all know that the Spiderverse is very open to a wide selection of possibilities and versions of Spiderman and we're all aware that the same thing applies to other characters as well. Soooo who said that Y/n has to be a civilian/or a version of Spiderman for this idea to work?

My fellow peeps I introduce to you Earth 2099 Miguel O'Hara x  Villain/Alchemax worker/Morally Grey scientist Reader!

I can kinda see this playing out in a few ways.

1.)Villain reader investigating the strange phenomenon that occurred a couple months before hacking the multi verse and stirring up trouble. Miguel intervenes and takes what he wants.

For the last year since the bizarre phenomenon in downtown Brooklyn you've been stirring up more trouble than you typical due to collecting the materials needed for your "experiments" to figure out what that phenomenon really was and what the hell was Alchemax —your ex-employers— were up to with your research. With some finessing of the illegal kind you figure out what the corporation was up to. Before being fired you had discovered the existence of the multiverse however before you could investigate any further you were let go. Now that you have your research back you're able to Doc Octo this shit and break into the multiverse. If you could pull this off nothing was stopping ya' from fulfilling yer goal and maybe scoring some fame while you were at it. After some convoluted ass science mumbojumbo. You manage to Doc Octo this shit and break into the dimensional web that held the spider verse. Inside the alternate universe you immediately start messing up shit straight off the back as soon as you fly through the colorful portal. Miguel is quick to pick up on this anomaly and sends some Spiders out to handle the issue. Long story short— they fail. Forcing Miguel's hand to go and correct the anomaly himself. Only to find that it was you. Her. His dead wife/or dead lover. The only problem is that you're obviously not a good guy. Miguel being Miguel will try to rationalize it to himself as he demolishes your equipment/suit that you're not his Y/n, you're a villain, he can't keep you without risking a whole universe just for his selfish desires. However as he stood over your defeated helpless form. He decided. If one anomaly can exist and not destroy existence why can't another? There were ways around this. There had to be. Holding you in his grasp again the hero wasn't sure if he could let you go once again....

2.) You're an inventor/scientist that works at Alchemax/or your another rogue scientist . Either way you're looking to get into the Spider verse. Since the phenomenon from a couple months ago you've been intrigued by the strange occurrence. The news labeled it a "strange weather occurrence" however you knew that wasn't the case. If you're working at Alchemax you've known about the phenomenon since the beginning. If you're an inventor/scientist (with some grey morals) you found out after some research and trespassing. Either way your tinkering pays off thanks to the help of some stolen tech from Alchemax and an interesting glitch from the hacked tech. You eventually have yourself a fully operational universe hopping watch. And where do you end up? Right in the middle of Earth 2099. Miguel is immediately alerted of your presence. An obvious stranger to this Jetson world you find yourself quickly apprehended by a small group of spiders/or Miguel. Either way the red & blue leotard nosferatu as soon as he catches sight of you the dude is all over you. Miguel may be a man who would like to believe he is in control of himself and his rash decisions buuuuttt that's gonna be a nah. Never had the Spiderman ever expected to speak to an alternate version of his dead wife. Especially in person. Every time he's stolen a glance it was from a distance or behind one of his various monitors. He couldn't risk ruining another verse. However somehow regardless of his attempts to keep his desires at bay you've still managed to break past that last thing that was keeping you from him. Now that you're here the thirty year old wasn't sure if he could let you leave him again...

3.) What if instead of breaking into the multi verse. Alchemax employee/Morally Grey scientist Reader! is lured into the multiverse? In your home verse the Miguel who you had married was dead. Struggling with piling debt and depression you choose to bury your problems under research into the weird phenomenon that occurred in downtown Brooklyn a few months before. During this time of trial and error you figure out how to access the multiverse thanks to some misplaced Alchemax files and risky choices. The documents aid in building the device that would aid in your plan to find your ex-husband's alternate universe copy. All the while you were walking right into Miguel's clutches. Cause like you Miguel was having an equally hard time getting over his family's death. Although they are gone the widowed father couldn't help but, search for his loved ones amongst the various worlds that rest at his finger tips. He needed them. He needed you....and you needed him. Although you guys weren't from the same earth you both can replace the pain that was birthed from this tragedy and regain something more. Just be a family.... Hopefully you want to play his game because Miguel couldn't watch from the sidelines any longer.

Alrighty guys that's all for now! Sorry if they're a little all over the place. Regardless I hope you guys liked them and I hope you guys have a good week!

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi, I have a request if you’re interested, it’s an Azula X reader It’s basically like the episode in avatar last Airbender, the beach Basically reader is a spoiled rich boy and decides to throw a party at his dad‘s beach house. He invites, Azula and her friends and Brother. After he met them on the beach. Reader is instantly attracted to Azula and tries to make the move but Azula is awkward eventually though reader manages, and she eventually reveals her identity

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the imagine!

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Character: Azula

Word Count: 1k (1,010 words)

You couldn't take your eyes off her. But the burning net was starting to hurt your eyes so you supposed, in the interest of being physically able to look at her more in the future, you would look away now.

Since you had first laid eyes on the dark haired woman and her friends, you knew she was someone you wanted to know better. Her golden eyes held a fire in them that wasn't present in anyone else you had ever seen.

And then she destroyed that kid's sandcastle castle. Well we all had our quirks. You could certainly learn to live with someone that enjoys the tears of children.

Her friend, the flexible one with the long, light brown hair, was surrounded by men. You couldn't believe they were all over her when the dark, fire filled one was right there! Ah well, guess it just meant less competition.

The volleyball match was intense. Had you been able to tear your eyes off her and the flawless way she moved around the court, you would have seen half the beach captivated by the match.

When the net went up in flames, you could hardly believe your eyes. From the shouts from the others watching the game, you assumed you weren't the only one.

“Yes! We defeated you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation!”

You weren't sure if pursuing this lady would be good for your health but you'd be damned if that was going to stop you from trying.

Gathering your courage (damn she was intimidating), you approached the small group.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” You kept your eyes fixed on the woman who had so captivated you, “Y’know, I’m kinda a big shot around here.” The only guy in the group made to start forward but the lady you were talking to held out a hand, stopping him.

She smiled at you, a look made an inexplicable shiver run up your back though whether it was from delight or fear, you weren’t sure. “Carry on. You were saying?”

“I’m holding a party at my place tonight. You should come. Bring your friends as well. Just know that some important people will be there so try to be on your best behaviour.” You threw a wink her way, testing the waters.

Her smile grew and some unidentifiable emotion flickered behind her eyes.

“We’ll be there.”

~

The party was in full swing. Drinks were flowing swiftly and everyone seemed to be having a good time. You glanced around the room, searching for her. She and her friends had arrived at the exact time the party was meant to start, before anyone else had shown up. You had hoped to speak to her more then but you’d barely got out your warning that your dad didn’t know about the party before others had started arriving and you had been forced to play the host.

There she was, in the corner, staring back at you with eyes like molten gold. There was some unknowable emotion behind those eyes. You hoped it was concealed attraction but knowing what little you did of her, it could just as easily have been murderous intent.

You figured now was as good a time as any to try your luck. You weaved through the crowd, making your way towards her.

“Hey, having a good time?”

She looked at you for a moment before nodding.

“You wanna get some fresh air? There’s a balcony with a pretty good view.”

She nodded again. “Lead the way.”

The cool air and quietness of the balcony was a nice change from the energised atmosphere of the party.

You stood next to each other, taking in the view.

You decided to break the silence. “Is this your first time on Ember Island?”

“No. I used to come here years ago.”

“It’s pretty nice if you like sand.”

She laughed awkwardly loud. You looked across at her. She had a forced expression on her face. You hoped it wasn’t anything to do with you.

“Your arms look so strong.” There was that forced feeling again.

You turned to face her fully. Usually you would have taken the compliment but there was something weird going on.

“Are you okay? You’re acting strange.”

She sighed. “My friend said that to get a boy interested in me I had to look at him, smile a lot, and laugh at everything he says even if it's not funny.”

You felt your heart sink and rise at the same time. She clearly didn’t think you were funny if that forced laugh was anything to go by. But at the same time, what she had just said meant she was interested in you.

You were going to take that as a win.

“Well it worked. I’m certainly interested in you.”

But her expression didn’t change. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough to be interested in you. That’s all that matters.”

“Even if I’m the daughter of the Fire Lord?”

That threw you for a loop. This was the Fire Lord’s daughter? Azula? What was she doing at your meagre party? Oh god, you’d told her there would be important people at the party. She was without a doubt the most important person there.

You stopped your thoughts. Did that change how you felt about her? No. Not really. It just changed your perspective.

“So? Just because you’re the daughter of the Fire Lord doesn’t mean you’re not just a person as well.”

Her expression shifted. “Are you sure? There will be certain expectations. I’m very demanding.”

You smiled at her. “I think I can learn to live with that.”

A smile spread across Azula’s face. “Together, you and I will be the strongest couple in the entire world!” She lifted one hand, which filled with blue fire, “We will dominate the Earth!”

Yep, getting into a relationship with this one wouldn’t be good for your health. But that wasn’t going to stop you from trying.

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Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

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[siren-meets]

Your Braids Like a Pattern (BoB OFC One-Shot)

Nora Price doesn’t want to admit that her deteriorating hair in the Ardennes is bothering her. Luz and the boys offer some much-needed TLC.

Word count: 1820

Warnings: None! Platonic unless you squint ;)

A/N: My best friend finally joined the BoB fandom, and she dragged me back with her head-first. Thanks @indigo-graves! Check out her writing, too!

Nora knew that her hair was ruined. She knew it when her French braid had turned into an indiscernible mass of frizz. She knew it when the braid got wet and shrank into a sopping bird’s nest, which then turned into a dry and brittle bird’s nest. She knew it when Luz and Lipton’s eyes flitted upwards whenever she took her helmet off.

Lipton had tried to say something— in his own way. Take care of yourself. Why don’t you visit Nixon and Winters’ tent? They’ve got more amenities over there.

He and Luz— her foxhole mates— had been whispering about her for days now, and she had a feeling it wasn’t just about her hair. She had been brushing off the men’s concerns left and right. She was sleeping in a foxhole. She’d be damned if she was the one worried about her hair. She was fine.

Then, the wrong man had made the wrong comment on the wrong day.

It was midday, and the men had all congregated near a low fire where Malarkey had whipped up a pot of beans to distribute for lunch. Nora had spent the day making house calls to different foxholes to check that the men were changing and airing out their socks in a rotation that would prevent trench foot.

“Here, Nora,” Guarnere greeted, handing her the tin cup of beans that he had just received from Malarkey. She nodded her thanks as he grabbed another for himself. Babe came up next to her, a pair of socks slung over his shoulder.

“I can’t tell if these are drying or just freezing,” he said, gesturing to the socks.

“As long as they aren’t on your feet…” Nora murmured around a mouthful of beans. “You could get them away from my food though.”

She said it with a tired but teasing tone, taking a step away from the younger man, and he scoffed. “Yeah, better step back anyway— I wouldn’t want your hair to start eating me.”

Nora’s posture tensed as she became suddenly very aware of herself. The men nearest them had gone quiet, noticing the change in her demeanor, and after taking a few more bites of her beans, she handed the tin cup off to Malarkey.

“I’ll be in my foxhole if anyone needs me — gonna try and catch some shut-eye in case there’s any shelling tonight.”

She excused herself and Luz, who had been happily chatting with Muck and Penkala, groaned.

“Jesus, Babe!” He griped. “You had to bring up the hair?”

“What?” Babe said, his eyes wide as he looked around at the disapproving faces of his companions. “She ribbed me, and I ribbed her back.”

He was met with a chorus of chiding from the other men as Luz went after Nora.

When Luz arrived at the foxhole, Nora was attempting to yank a comb through her matted locks.

“Woah, easy there,” he said, dropping into the hole next to her. She grunted with frustration as she tried to remove the lodged comb; her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Hey, Babe didn’t mean anything by that, you know,” he said, grimacing as he watched her.

“I know,” she said between greeted teeth. “I don’t care. It’s just hair.”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed, despite the fact that she very clearly did care.

She struggled with the mess for another minute before finally freeing the comb and taking in its broken teeth. Her face began to crumple, and Luz tensed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna have to cut it all off,” she said. Her voice had the tiniest waver to it, though he knew she was trying her hardest to hide it.

“What?” He scoffed. “You’re crazy! No one’s cutting it off.”

He gestured for her to turn her back to him, and he got on his knees behind her, assessing the damage. He was glad she couldn’t see his face. He prodded at it a bit. “This is—yeah, we can work with this.”

He held a beckoning hand over her shoulder, and she reluctantly surrendered the comb to him. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Luz said as he started picking at the mass with the comb’s remaining teeth. “We’ll get you sorted.”

“Thanks,” Nora replied, and he felt a pang in his chest when her voice came out small. “I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” said Luz. “What’s stupid is this comb.”

The two were quiet for a long while as Luz worked through the knots. He hoped he wasn’t doing more damage than help.

“Maybe I should just cut it off,” Nora whispered. “Braiding it to keep it out of the way is what got me into this mess.”

“Nope,” said Luz. “I promised that not a hair on your head would be harmed on my watch, and that includes…well, your hair.”

Nora laughed and sniffled. Her shoulders had relaxed considerably since he started. “How’s it going back there?”

Luz sat back on his heels to survey his work. “I think we’re gonna have to take it in stages.”

Three hours later, they were starting to see some progress, but not nearly as much as Luz had led Nora to hope. When his arms grew tired, Lipton, who had returned to the foxhole, took a shift with the new comb he had sourced.

Nora’s scalp was starting to feel tender, and she made a point not to look at the comb to make note of how much hair was coming out.

“It’s only because your hair’s so thick,” Luz assured her. “That’s a good thing.”

Nora winced as he pulled as a particularly difficult tangle at the top of the matted section. Joe Toye, who was passing by their foxhole on the way to watch the line with his rifle slung over his shoulder, made eye contact and tipped his chin in acknowledgement. Nora waved, cringing when she felt a particularly taut hair release from her scalp.

Toye slowed, lingering near the hole for a few moments wordlessly as he watched Luz work.

“Everything okay?” Nora asked, wondering if he needed medical attention. He glanced in the direction of the front line and back as if debating with himself. His tongue was pushed into his cheek in that perpetual expression of frustration he wore.

“Luz, the Germans would be gentler than that,” He groused.

“Hey, what do you want from me?” Luz said between clenched teeth as he placed the comb in his mouth and attempted to work the knot between his fingers instead. “I’m tryin’ here.”

“You gotta start at the bottom,” Toye said. Luz’s movements paused as he processed the instruction.

“Brush up?” He said. “How does that make sense, Joe?”

“No, you gotta—” Toye growled, glancing around before taking his rifle off his shoulder and propping it in the side of the foxhole. “Move over.”

Luz ceded to the man, moving to sit on the edge of the foxhole. Toye knelt behind Nora and took the comb from Luz with a glare. He started at the bottom of the matted section, picking at it in short, downward movements. “You still comb down, you just do it like this and work your way up.”

The relief was almost instantaneous, though Nora didn’t say anything out of respect for the comfort Luz had been trying to offer. Toye continued to work gently at her hair, and when Lipton returned to the foxhole to see that progress was finally being made, he offered to take Toye’s spot on the line while he worked.

After Nora’s original panic had passed, she continued to feel self-conscious about the attention that was being paid to her problem. She had dreaded the other men teasing her friends for “doing her hair,” even in good fun, but the company seemed to be united in sympathy for her struggle. That, and she suspected Toye’s eyes were daring them to say something.

Even Nixon and Winters came in to check on their progress when they heard about the effort. Nixon crouched in front of Nora and pulled out a bottle of hair tonic. “I don’t know if it’ll help with the detangling, but it should help with some of the damage.”

She thanked the Captain profusely as Luz took the bottle and began dousing her hair in it. Toye and Luz bickered over her head about the best way to distribute it into the matted section. When Toye needed to head back to the line, Luz took up his post again with a much gentler touch now that he had been shown some technique. Toye had uncomfortably brushed off her heartfelt thanks, and she made a mental note to source a pack of cigarettes for him instead.

It wasn’t long before Babe came along with his tail tucked between his legs. “Hey, Nora,” He said with a nervous chuckle. “Lookin’ good!”

“Relax, Heffron,” she said. “I’m not mad.”

His relief was palpable. “Oh, phew! Cause, you know I didn’t mean it. I was just razzing you.”

“I know,” said Nora.

“If you’re really sorry, why don’t you grab a comb,” Luz said, gesturing to the extra that Lipton had left laying on his pack. Babe did just that, plopping down next to Luz. The three of them chatted and laughed as the two men continued to chisel away at the loosening mass, and Nora, for the first time in weeks, felt more like herself.

After eight hours and several rotating shifts, Luz shoved at Nora’s back. Nora, who had been drifting to sleep sitting up, pitched forward and turned to look at him. “What? Shelling?”

“No, not shelling,” Luz said, smiling. “Watch this.”

He pulled her closer again and placed his comb at the crown of her head, dragging it from root to tip with no resistance. His face was open and anticipatory as he watched for her reaction.

Nora reached back to run her hand over the hair, gasping at how silky it felt. She had anticipated much worse for the end result. She laughed, her eyes tearing up with unshed tears of relief. “Luz, you’re my hero.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, waving a dismissive hand despite the proud glow on his face.

“I’m serious,” she said, refusing to let him brush this off. “I don’t know what I would do out here without you.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, swallowing. He glanced again at her hair, which she had now pulled over her shoulder to run her fingers through, and then back at her face. She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to say something serious, but true to his nature, he landed on a joke instead. “Want me to braid it for you now?”

She shoved his shoulders, fighting a smile as she watched him throw his head back in laughter. “Alright, too soon. How about you just leave that down? It’s cold out here.”

[fixfoxnox]

could you give alerudy fic rec’s? I’ve been trying to find good ones where they’re the main pair, but man is it difficult. (sorry about the red text tumblr dark mode is being difficult rn)

I will indeed! Fair warning none of these are terribly long (there aren't a lot of longer AleRudy-focused fics in general) and a lot of them are NSFW/feature NSFW

My literal favorite AleRudy fic that I've ever read is this one called The Tailor's Son by IJustWannaAskSomething. It's an alternative backstory for how they meet and fall in love and it is genuinely one of the best fics that I think I've read in the fandom in general. It's Rudy focused (which I love) and is just super fluffy with not a drop of angst in sight!

I've mentioned before, but I love the AleRudy dynamic of Rudy who has been living with his feelings for so long and handles them through hookups. My favorite one of these is i could be your holy ghost by tippytulip. It features a first chapter with a little Rudy x Soap action and some Jealous Alejandro. This fic is NSFW and also Rudy-focused!!

What Love Does To A Man by Hentaiisgreat123 is just a cute little fluffy one shot between these two with Alejandro being head over heels for Rudy (as it was meant to be). No NSFW, just cute guys being cute and in love!

Okay so, this next one was (I think) meant to be an entire fic, but the author has only written one chapter and, considering it was posted in February, it may not be getting another update. That being said, I hate the weird stigma that has popped up of people shitting on unfinished/abandoned fics and avoiding them all together. Some of the best fics I've read have been unfinished. The concept and first chapter of this fic stand alone fairly well as is, and it's good enough that I think people should take a chance to read it. It is Relax, Colonel by WinkEyeTightenTie. Also NSFW!!!

My Dear Husband (Marry Me Again) by your_executioner is a cute little isekai/alternate universe's crossing type of fic. Essentially when Rudy almost dies in the fire from the game, he somehow get transported over to an alternate universe where he and Alejandro are married! Super cute, slightly angsty. Just a good quick fic of Alejandro and Rudy being pushed into action by a universe where their other versions have their shit together lol

me gustas tu by ghvstsymphvny is a story that essentially gives its own backstory for how Alejandro and Rudy met and how they finally decided to get their shit together. It's a fairly angsty fic (though you won't be able to tell at first) and does feature Valeria as Alejandro's ex as part of the backstory. Very good read!!

The Course of Fire by Kabbal (Aledane) is a 5 +1 fic that is essentially 5 times of Alejandro being whipped then the one time that he finally does something about it. It's cute, slight bit of angst in the middle, and spicy toward the end. I love it and I love Alejandro being whipped for Rudy which is what this fic provides!!

Now for two straight up NSFW Fics I've enjoyed:

Save a Dream, Ride Me by LazyOne. Rudy gets a cowboy hat and slowly drives Alejandro insane with it. Nuff said.

One Night (Tonight) by MoMoMomma. AleRudy ABO fic where Graves says some shit about Rudy to Alejandro while he's captured and it sets Alejandro off :) This is genuinely one of my favorite NSFW fics that I've read for the ship and I stop at it literally every time I go through the tag to reread. Just the concept is so good dudes

[frenziedslashers]

I hope you get the switch issue sorted out and it just needs a new memory card or something :( I'd love HCs or a oneshot with Handsome Jack, maybe with a reader who's a medic who takes care of his scars and mask? SFW or NSFW or both, whatever you're feeling.

Thank you, I appreciate your support man. It is so far downloading Borderlands: The Pre-sequel alright. So I am crossing my fingers that it at least works at redownloading that game since I was working on a rerun with it and would hate to have to wait until I could get a new memory card to replay it 😭 thank you for the request too, though! I am absolutely living off the fact that there are still people on here who read borderlands stuff. I have really missed this fandom tbh <3

This may be pretty ooc for Handsome Jack. I never write for him, but I was in a fluffy sort of mood so I hope you enjoy Anon :)

Taking Care of Handsome Jack:

He never really let anyone touch him, before or after he became Handsome Jack. The thought of getting too close to someone and having them slip through his fingers like everyone else in his life hurt him, it really did. He just chose not to let anyone know that. I mean, he was supposed to be a feared man, showing any sign of weakness would surely get him demoted to Pandoras most feared, to Pandoras Softest Villain.

But there you were, sitting next to him on the floor of his home, a first aid kit strewn out on the floor before the both of you. "You know, I could tend to these wounds a lot better if you let me take you to my station and clean these with proper equipment. Unless scars are today's form of tattoo, it almost seems like it." You fussed while working away at bandaging up his arm.

"And let someone see that I'm not made of steel and that I bleed? Yeah, fat chance, princess." You rolled your eyes at the pet name. "Why do you trust that I won't tell the world that the all-great and powerful Jack bleeds blood like the rest of us?" You asked him, peeking up at him through your lashes with a small smirk before looking back down to tend to his wounds. "Oh, I just know you won't" he hummed, his other hand moving to rest on your thigh. "I feel like you get cockier each time I come here," "Call it confidence, dolly." He cooed with a snicker, though that quickly faded when you pressed on one of his cuts just right. A hiss left the man's lips, glaring over at you as you tried to hide a smile. "Sorry. "

He watched you for a few more moments until you leaned back, declaring your work finished as you looked over the mans body one last time. At least from what you could see of it. "Like what you see?" He asked you, and you rolled your eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time tonight. "I'm just checking over to make sure you didn't get shot anywhere else. Remember last time?" "God, don't remind me." He groaned.

Last time you did have to take him to your place of work. He had gotten shot in the back, literally, and hardly noticed until his adrenaline wore off. If it weren't for your second inspection and you seeing the blood he would have been a dead man. He never even said thank you for it, either.

"Well?" He asked, and you nodded your head. Eyes moving back up to meet his. Smiling softly back at him. "Looks good, handsome." You teased with a smirk. "Well then come here, gorgeous," he sniggered, pulling you closer to him by your hips. Moving you to rest over his lap. "Has anyone ever told you how hard to get you are?" You sighed, leaning forward a bit, "humor me." This wasn't the first time the two of you had done something like this. It started to become a common occurrence each time he called you to come to his house and patch him up. Some days you wondered if he was putting himself in the line of fire just so he could see you. You didn't think that much into it, though. The last thing you needed was the thought of Handsome Jack actually liking you for more than just your body and easy help. He was ruthless and cared about no one. At least that's what you were always told and assumed.

He sighed back, leaning forward to rest his chin on your chest, staring up at you with a smug expression. It was an awkward angle to stare back down at him, but it made you smile nonetheless. "I think that's what I like about you most." He hummed, "That and the fact that you save me about once a week, and god damn do you fuck really well." He partially joked and you groaned. There he went ruining the moment that you were starting to think was actually really sweet.

"Is that all I am? A toy?" You truly didn't care what the answer would be from the man, you were more so just playing along. But something behind his eyes told you that it struck a chord with him. His brows furrowing together. "Why the hell would you say that?" Well, that wasn't entirely the response you were expecting. Jack leaned back so the both of you were able to look at one another properly.

"Well, you only ever contact me when your bloody and bruised, and then we screw around, and I leave. Sorry, I was just playing around." You confessed, and he shook his head. "Have you ever thought about the fact that a call works both ways? You never call me, I call you for help because it's the only time you'll come and see me. I asked you to come over on three other occasions and each time you said you were busy. You only ever come if I'm dying, I can't believe you think so little of me." He spat, pushing you away from him. This wasn't like him, the sudden emotional change made your heartache. You felt horrible for making him upset. Then again, a part of you expected him to start laughing and point out the look on your face.

He wasn't lying though, he had asked you to come over three other times. Two of those times you assumed was just for sex, but the third time, thinking back on it now with the way he worded it. He did really just want to see you, even if he was drunk and you could tell.

"Jack, I don't think little of you," you tried to reassure him, and he scolded you. "Oh, yet you thought I was just using you as a fuck toy? Yeah, I enjoy it, but that's not who I am. I'm a lot of things, and I've done a lot of sick, idiotic things, but I'm not a user," he frowned, his eyes still focused on you. You could tell he was pissed, betrayed, hurt. You didn't know what you could do to make it up to him, and that's when you saw it. The blood dripping down his mask that made your chest clench in panic.

"Jack, did you hit your head today?" You asked all while leaning forward. "Oh, now you think I hit my head because I'm showing emotions? I'm not a fucking lunatic," he hissed, and you ignored him. Reaching out to touch the face of his mask. Pulling it back to show him the blood on your fingers. "Why are you bleeding from your head, Jack?" You asked with a stern expression. A bit upset he was ignoring the fact that he was still hurt.

"Oh shit," he muttered. Reaching up to touch the blood himself. Slight panic setting into himself. The last thing he needed was a concussion, or something worse. His head did hurt a little, but he didn't think it was that bad. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked while holding three fingers up for him. He pouted a bit, "Jack," you stated sternly. "Fine, three." "Good," you hummed, reaching into your bag for a light. "I'm going to shine my light on your eyes to make sure your pupils dilate properly, is that okay?" "Whatever you have to do, doc."

You completed the tests that you had to to make sure he was alright. Though you did suggest he take a concussion test, you knew he wouldn't. He was too stubborn to admit that he had one. Lucky for him you were sure it wasn't too severe if he did have one. "You call me if you start feeling worse, okay Jack?" He sighed as you mothered him. Closing his eyes while you worked on checking the wound through his thick hair. Minus the wound itself, he liked the feeling of you taking care of him. It made him feel normal in a sense. Like you were his loving partner, taking care of him after he got hurt at work, but he knew now that wouldn't be a thing. Or at least he assumed. You seemed to have higher expectations, or at least ones that weren't named Handsome Jack.

"Is it bad?" You shrugged. "Sort of? I suggest taking a shower before I stitch it up." You told him, moving some of his hair that fell onto his forehead. "Can you join me?" You frowned a bit, "Come on, just make sure I don't fall and die. Because if I die, I'm leaving you Hyperion as payback." He quipped, and you let out a groan. He knew you hated working for the place, let alone the thought of owning it. You were a medic, not a business person.

You knew that Jack was playing his games again. The moment the both of you got into the bathroom for him to take a shower he asked if you could join him in it. "As in without any clothes?" "I mean unless you want to shower with clothes on, what are you, crazy?" Jack asked with furrowed brows as he worked at removing his shirt. Turning around so his back was to you to allow you to remove your own clothes. Which did shock you a little. It did give you the chance to look over his back wound though. It was healing up nicely, just as you presumed.

"Alright," You hummed, opening the door so he could step in, you following after. Shutting the door behind the both of you.

The whole shower was quiet, besides the water that echoed in your ears. A nonstop stream that was almost comforting. His eyes were either on your face or the wall behind you the whole time while you helped him clean his hair and body. Giving you the opportunity to make sure he had no other marks hiding from you.

"Thank you," you froze up. God, you were sure you were wrong and this man had the worse concussion you had ever seen before. First, he practically told you he had feelings for you, and now he was thanking you? After nearly eight months of you helping him out like this? "You're welcome." You didn't question it, it was nice having him thank you for your service for once. You did practically do all of it for free. It was the least he could do, even if he was technically your boss.

It wasn't long before the both of you were exiting the shower. Drying off and changing. Jack had a spare set of clothes for you. Most of the time it was the clothes that you left behind, but this time it was clothes you had never seen before. "Are they your size? I picked them out myself. It's an apology for ripping your shirt last time." He told you with a smug grin. He was still proud of that, but you didn't even have the time to be mad at him. They were your size, and the fabric was the type that you liked and that didn't bother your skin. "Yeah, these are great, thank you, Jack." You smiled back at him, and he nodded. Pulling his shirt back over his head after tugging his pants up his legs.

"See, I'm not so unthoughtful, am I?" He asked with a brow raised, sitting on the edge of his bed while watching you head back into the other room after getting changed. He knew you were just grabbing your supplies to bring them in there. He trusted you, after all.

When you did come back, he scooted back so he was leaned back against the head board. Waiting for you to come over and attend to what you both hoped was his final wound. "So," you started as you dug out the supplies to patch up his scalp. "If I'm not a toy, what am I? Or... What are we?" You asked, glancing at his eyes before working on his head.

He was quiet for a while. Long enough that it had you worried, but each time you looked down at his face he was staring at you like he was thinking. Thinking long and hard about his next words. Really, he was praying that you would know without him having to say anything. "Truthfully, I don't even know." He told you, and you frowned a bit. There it was, you got your hopes up just a bit and you were brought back down.

"Well, I know what I want," Jack told you, a small laugh leaving his chest. "I always know what I want, it's what I'm best at. I want you. I want you by my side when I take down the Vault Hunters and open the Vault on Pandora." You stopped your work, staring at him with wide eyes. He had to be joking, right?

"What do you mean, by your side? Like as your medic?" You stammered a bit, pulling your hands away and Jack took this as a chance to grab your hands, pulling them close to him. A crazy glint in his eyes that worried you a little. "Well, that too, but as my partner. My other half. I want you as mine, and I really thought I made that damn clear with you being the only person I ever screw around with. I mean, I let you leave hickeys on me, you think I'd let just anyone do that?" He laughed, and you felt your insides turning. You were scared he was going to start laughing at you if you said you wanted all of that too, I mean. It wasn't like you didn't like him. You liked him quite a bit, actually. You always just pushed those feeling away.

"Are you making fun of me? This is a joke isn't it?" He could see the worry on your face, and it frustrated him. "What part of I like you do you not fucking understand?" He snapped, squeezing your hands a little tighter, and that made you flinch, your eyes and jaw squeezing shut. He regretted his actions, wishing he didn't let his anger get the best of him, but it was just who he was.

He released the grip on your hands. Letting them go completely so he could reach up to cup the sides of your face. "Look at me," he wanted to see your eyes. "Hey, look at me, please?" He asked, rubbing your cheek bones as he waited for your eyes to open. When they did finally flutter open he smiled. A smile that seemed almost too genuine for Handsome Jack. It scared you a little, really.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled. I just don't understand why you can't trust me. I've been nothing but good to you, haven't I? If I did anything wrong, tell me now." He spoke, and you shook your head. "You didn't do anything wrong." He nodded his head, "Then what is it?" You stared back at him for a second while you thought of what you wanted to say. You didn't want to confuse or frustrate him any more than he already was. "I just don't get it." He furrowed his brows, "Everyone told me you were some heartless bastard who didn't care about no one. So I always just assumed you were using me. I never told anyone about me coming over to help us, or the time that we shared, but the rumors that people spread about them. I believed a lot of them." "Why?" He asked, looking a little wounded. "I guess I just never expected you to like a nobody like me." He sighed, pulling you close to him so he could wrap his arms around you. "Yeah, well I guess I'm just full of surprises." You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder. "You really are, Jack." No one would believe you if you told them you were sleeping with Handsome Jack anyways, but you were glad to know you were hopefully the only one. If you could even believe him.

"I always just assumed you would want someone like Moxxi," "And have my heart broken again? No way, baby. Plus, you take better care of me, and you let me spoil you without having to flaunt it to the world." You smiled a little, he did spoil you. A lot more than you liked, actually. You always felt like he owed you back each time he would buy you the new supplies you needed and wanted for work or just the little things you wanted for yourself. No matter how much he assured you, you always wanted to pay him back somehow.

Your silence made him a little antsy, giving your hip a light squeeze. "Does this mean you'll be mine, and just mine?" He asked with a grin, and you smiled a bit back yourself. "Yeah, only if you let me make earlier up to you." You stated, beginning to place all of your appliances back into your bag while Jack settled down onto the bed. "Baby, when have I ever denied you?"

[babyraptor]

it took me nearly 20 years of fandom before i dove headfirst into Trigun fan fiction, and now that i’m in, there’s no resurfacing. so now, just in case anyone is interested, i would like to share some of my favorites. listed in alphabetical order.

i’ll be updating my list every so often. (and if you really want to know, i’m secondofjune on AO3.)

A Bit of a Tight Spot

A Brief Respite

Absolution

A Fool From Any Direction

a haven for restless angels of mercy

a kind heart to haunt

About fears and reassurances

all that i wish i could say

all variety of vows

A Man Called Agony

And Every Breath We Drew Was ‘Hallelujah’

and how i idolize the empty highs

and we’re gonna sing it again

and your prayers (they’re not fables)

An Exchange of Words

a phantom’s reverence

Asymmetry

a tide of tender mercies

Ascension Day

At the mercy of the universe

At the Top of the World

At Vacant Hours

A Whisper in Darkness

babe, i’m gonna leave you

Balance

Bare Hands, Holding Onto the Wire

Bedside Manner

Belly of the Whale

Benediction

between your scars and mine

bittersweet

Black is the Color

Bloodstained Devotion

Bluebells

broken boy, how does it feel?

Bulletproof

But Like A Refugee

but tonight belongs to me

By His Hands

Can’t take my eyes off you

Carrot & Stick

Changing Luck

chemical haze

Child of Blessing

Closed and Healing

Closer

Cold Comfort

Come Back Home

Complimentary

could we please pretend

Couldn’t Be the Booze

Daily Special

dance in our catastrophe

darlin’, it finds a way to live in you

Daughter of Eve

dead man talking

Desecration is But a Form of Worship

did you get enough love (my little dove)

Dinner for Two

Dirty Thoughts

disarm you with a smile

Don’t need a gun to blow your mind

don’t stop if I fall and don’t look back

dream a little dream

Dreaming Saint’s Sonata

dress me in red and throw your roses

Duality

Episode 25: Live Through

Equinox

every me, every you

Exodus 23:24

Eyes of the Storm

Facets

Fairytale of December

Falling forward, back into orbit

Feel Good

Figure Me Out

Fine, Great

Fire on the Mountain

fool in the moon

for a sinner like me

For Good

for reasons wretched and divine

for where else could i go? who else could i love but you?

From the Past or the Future? Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

gentle thievery

get me outta my head

Ghosts of the Byway

god like sunshine, girl like rain

gravedigger, gravedigger

Gung-Ho Guns Ver. 1.0

Gunpowder Nights

Hallefuckinglujah

Heartbeat

heavens away

Hell, I’m Dead Anyway

hold my body down

Holding My Breath

Honeymoon

Hunger

Hurricane

I Believe in the Kingdom Come

i can see a lot of life in you

i can see it in his eyes

Idle Hands (The Devil’s Playground)

I just can’t wait for love to destroy us

IN EXCELSIS DEO

In heaven, lost my taste for hell

Inseparable

Insomnia

Interjacence

inter paradisum et infernum

In the Bloom of a Creosote

in the dark and out of harm

i promised i’d give this a go

i shot cupid (needle and thread)

It’s Open Season on Blue Moons

I’d wanna burn whole (to be someone’s spark)

I’ve seen all the demons that you’ve got

Joan of Arc

Just a Hobby

Just for Tonight

Just Listen to the Rhythm of the Heart

Keep your bliss, there’s nothing wrong with this

kiss me, son of god

la petite mort

Lay It On Me and I’ll Be There to Catch You

lay us down

lead-fill the hole in me

Left Hand

Life on Gunsmoke

Little Pieces of the Nothing That Fall

love and its decisive pain (sunlight)

maman

mashed potatoes

More Than You’ll Ever Know

Minefield

Mysterious Ways

Need

Night Vision

nobody said it was easy

No Idle Threat

Not For My Behalf

Not in the Job Description

not to me, not if it’s you

oh lazarus, how did your debts get paid

One Day Closer to Death

Only Human

Only Over You

Open Me Up

our bodies fit together

Past the Mission

Personal Jesus

Pieces

playing cards with the elephant in the room

Playing House

Pollinate him, please!

Praying to the Wrong God

Pretending

raise a glass to the turnings of the season

Reign of Lovin’

Roots

rough edges

Sandstorm Blues

say it’s such a fault

say your name, forever

Scratch Your Surface

Season of the Witch

Secondhand Secrets

Self-Inflicted

Skin Deep

Sleepless Without You

Smoke & Soulmates

so i’ll sing to the grave

So It Goes

Someday Out of the Blue

someone to last your whole life

something eluding you, sunshine?

something I can’t know ’til now

Something of a Departure

Something to Live For

sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it were mine

Stargazers, New and Old

stop me if you’ve heard this all before

Strange Powers

Strawberries & Cigarettes

stretched out for miles and miles

sucker love

sweet dreams of otherness

take a knife and cut through the darkness

take my breaking heart (and tear it all apart)

taste my misfit love

Tension

terrors don’t prey on innocent victims

that constant sting that we call love

The barrel of the gun

The Edge of Knowing

The Evening and the Morning and the Night

The Lighthouse

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Traveller

The Only Nice Thing That Follows

The Quick and the Bed

there are certain things you ask of me (and there are certain things i lack)

there’s something about you

The sand in your eyes was made of dreams

the ship’s inhabitants

the truth hurts worse

The wolf and the lamb

thirty pieces of silver

this could be home

this could be the end of everything

This is how we multiply

this road we are on

Thorns of Memory

Those were the days

time and tide, through the wall

Time Out

to have a body is to be a horror show

Tomorrows

touch me like nobody else does (lovely)

Touch

Trillium and Ivy

trust me to take you home

Trust

Tuesday’s Gone

two from the bottom of the bin

Untouchable

Up Front

Vashwood O’Ween

Visible Scars

water supply

Waiting at that shallow grave

Where Wild Roses Grow

Why Your Current Relationship is Not Sustainable

Wildflowers

wild horses couldn’t drag me away

will we ever grow a proper set of panic

will you welcome your extinction

Within Us An Orchard

Wolfwood’s Guide to Confession

Worth Something

yet broken still you breathe

You Are Red, Violent Red

you can run away with me anytime you want

you know you had it coming, my friend

you put me on and said I was your favorite

you stop the noise

you think history is repeated, you keep on pushing me away

you’ll leave me lonely at best

you’re a canary (i’m a coal mine)

you’re gonna be the one left standing

[jinmukangwrites]

Handcuffed/Manacled

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags: Self-Sacrificing Dick Grayson, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Tim Drake, Tim Drake Whump, Dick Grayson Whump, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Blood and Injury, Dick Grayson-centric, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hostage Situations, Near Death Experiences, Protective Tim Drake

Ao3

Summary: What started as a quiet night quickly turned sour when Tim's comms cut off without warning.

----

"I think I have a pimple on my chin, and I'm about to get violent about it."

Dick laughed, swinging under a fire-escape—it creaked, but he had swung under this particular fire-escape enough times to know it could hold his weight.

At the other end of the comms, Tim sounded bored. Well, he must be bored if breakouts, and not the fun jail kind, had suddenly become the topic of conversation.

"It'll get better when you're older," Dick replied, smirking to himself, his eyes scanning the regular shady alleyways of Blüdhaven as his grapple retracted, then shot off to the next practiced ledge with a jolt down his arm. It looked like it would be a quiet night tonight, not a crime worth punishing to be seen.

"I'm literally almost 20, N," Tim replied, deadpanned. "Also you can't talk. I'm pretty sure you've never had a pimple in your life."

"Not on my face, not really," Dick agreed. He could hear Tim's weight land heavily on puddled Gotham streets through the other end of the comm. Seemed like he, too, was having a slow night. "But bacne? Whoah-boy. Pretty sure I have one right below my left shoulder-blade, it's driving me nuts."

"You said it gets better when you're older."

"I'm still young."

Tim snorted. Despite the empty streets being the only one to see it, Dick grinned.

"You literally asked me what gyatt meant the other day."

"In my defense, I said I'm young, not that I'm twelve. Believe it or not, I'm also not terminally on TikTok."

Tim laughed, and Dick followed.

It wasn't often he could just hang out like this. Somebody was always busy, or somebody didn't have the social battery, or was getting over an argument, or was doing something with someone else, or there was a storm over Gotham and the connection didn't hold despite the constant fixes Barbara made to the system, bless her. Honestly, when he contacted Tim, the response "yeah I'm free" was a very pleasant surprise, especially after he'd just gotten a "not tonight" from Cassandra a few minutes before.

"So, how's it going on your end?" Dick asked. He let the swing of his grapple slow as the ground came up. He took a few running steps, carefully bending his knees, coming to a stop on solid ground as the grapple fully retracted into his escrima stick. He attached the useful weapon on his back next to its pair.

Tim sighed. "Is it bad I'm almost hoping someone's getting mugged with every empty alleyway I check?"

"Probably," Dick responded lightly, "but also, same."

"Of course I don't want anyone getting hurt, you know? But like, maybe just a little bit of threatening? Some yelling? Some asshole with too much ego needing to be knocked down a peg? I'm itching to kick someone in the face and I don't think that's something people should itch to do."

"Trust me," Dick responded, "I think I'd rather hear gimme all your money than you won the lottery right now."

Hindsight had Dick wishing he had some wood to knock on.

Tim started to ramble about how the most interesting thing he'd seen that night was a cat messing with a rat outside a doughnut shop, and Dick was strolling the quiet streets, a city away, a thirty minute drive at midnight, listening with a smile. It could have continued like this the rest of the night, and he would have been content. He would have said goodbye to Tim, stumbled into his apartment, did some stretches, ate a toaster strudel, then gone to bed happy. Bored, but happy. Glad no one needed saving, Nightwing wasn't a factor in life or death, he could rest, knowing the quiet nights were rare and precious.

Tim cut off in the middle of his ramblings, and tonight wasn't rare or precious.

"Red Robin?"

"I heard something. Just a sec."

He was whispering, voice tight, Dick could almost imagine the narrowed eyes behind white domino lenses.

Warm pressure washed over him, the physical feeling of a happy moment turning stale, starting at his ears, settling threateningly in his stomach.

Nearly a minute passed, Dick had to remind himself to breathe during it.

"Huh," Tim said, finally, voice shaken a little. "I could have sworn I-"

Static.

Dick was on the emergency channels before his heartbeat could finish its first stutter.

"Oracle," Dick said, "I've lost contact with Red Robin."

-o0o-

And that was how the nightmare started.

The last time he sped this quickly across the distance spreading between Blüdhaven and Gotham—often times too small, at times like this, too long—was when Damian had fainted at school. Nothing serious, apparently he had forgotten to eat and it was a hot day.

This was serious. Bab's was able to report Tim's vitals spiking, then slowing into unconsciousness mere seconds before any signal between Tim and the family cut off.

Every bat in the city scrambled. A fine oiled machine, like students practicing drills for school invaders; a machine that shouldn't have to be this oiled.

Dick took the west, ignoring how his ankles ached and his back ached and his jaw ached. Fingers creaked, ribs squeezed, stomach clenched. The sun would rise soon. Maybe a citizen or two would wake up for work and see a bat out and be baffled by it for a moment, then wonder if it's a sort of bunker down and call out kind of day.

He followed Tim's footsteps, checking alleyways, passing the doughnut shop with a rat corpse in the gutter, looking up at the pipes and gargoyles that had scratches from grappling hooks, some fresh, some very not.

The sun rose. It hung in the sky. It set.

Nothing.

He needed to eat. Everyone needed to eat. Damian was the only one resembling someone who could stand on their own two feet and it wasn't from a lack of caring but more from a responsible butler forcing the kid to go to school. Damian wasn't happy about that, the family had to move to a different channel while Damian argued over the comms for a solid 30 minutes.

Dick kept returning to the alleyway Tim's last location had pinged from, like if he looked again, Tim would be there that time. He was exhausted, to put it plainly. He was tired to the core, from the lack of sleep, and from once again, fearing for the life of a younger sibling. His eyes desperately wanted to close, but he knew that if he stopped looking even for a second, he'd see Jason's grave, feel Damian's blood, hear the silence coming from Stephanie's empty chair.

Not Tim. Not Tim too. Not Tim again.

Can't the universe let him catch a break? Or, at least, let it be him instead?

A grim thought. He had to keep looking.

There wasn't any sign of a struggle. No Red Robin branded weapons stuck in the brick walls, no dented dumpsters, not a single speck of blood. It was like Tim was kidnapped by the fabric of reality itself; glitched and removed, plucked out of thin air.

The irony and deja vu wasn't lost on him.

He sighed to himself, searching around the alleyway, poking at the same clueless details until maybe his fingers would leave indents in concrete.

Something blinked. Faint. Red. Rolled under a dumpster, near unnoticeable.

Dick noticed it. His blood ran cold.

He could hear Alfred get on the comms, demanding everyone return home for dinner before they do Tim no good by letting exhaustion win, but he ignored it for a second as he crept to the dumpster, reaching his hand under to pull out a small device no larger than the tip of his pointer finger.

Tim's comm.

He'd checked under the dumpster before. Several times. This wasn't there before.

It had to have been returned here. Purposely.

It was blinking like it was connected to something, which was impossible because Oracle said the signal was completely disconnected, and only she could connect it back to the family again.

He took out his own comm, wiped off alleyway water from Tim's, then replaced it in his ear.

"Is anyone there?" Dick asked, not knowing if he wanted an answer.

A second passed, he felt like he'd throw up.

A shaking voice responded. "N, go to these coordinates. Come alone, or he's going to kill me."

-o0o-

Dick went alone. He was instructed to keep on the earpiece, and that the kidnapper would know if he muted to warn the others.

The coordinates lead him to no special location at all. A thirty minute walk from where Tim had initially disappeared, a nook under the freeway where flood water could drain.

Not a soul awaited him there.

A blue backpack, abandoned—no, purposely placed—awaited him there.

Nothing was good about this. Tim had sounded weak and frightened to his trained ears, brave to anyone else. Dick felt like getting stabbed would hurt less than this.

He didn't care. He didn't know what else to do.

Tim had long since stopped responding to Dick after giving the initial instructions—the comm was mostly for the kidnapper to keep Dick under control—but he didn't need instructions to know that whatever happened next involved that blue bag.

He stepped up to it, hands long past the point of shaking that they're deathly stable as he unzipped it.

A device about the size of a pen greeted him. Thin, sleek, nothing special besides the tip being a very threatening button the size of a push pin.

"Gloves off," Tim whispered. "I- Nightwing- don't do it- I'm-" he cut off with a shout. The line went silent.

Dick didn't hesitate to take his gloves off and press the button.

Two things happened. The first was quicker, while the second was more physical.

The earpiece shorted out, and anything powered on Dick's body—his removed comm, his tracker, the sensors to his vitals, even the batteries to his escrima sticks—went completely dead.

He had just a millisecond to process that before nausea washed over with a prick to his thumb.

His vision swam, and he collapsed, black consuming him before he hit the ground.

-o0o-

"Just my luck," A modulated voice said exactly as Dick found himself waking up enough to comprehend words being said to him, "I've always wanted to meet Nightwing."

His arms were behind his back, wrists locked with tight bands of cuffed metal. Gravity told him he was sitting up, spine slumped against a wall, but sharp tugs in his hair told him that a hand clutched the strands, holding his neck up. He knew before he opened his eyes that the face of the speaker would greet him.

Or well, the helmeted face. Close enough.

Dick glared through the grogginess of fading unknown drugs. His face felt numb, tongue heavy, but the movement at least assured him that there was still pressure over his eyes.

The attacker regarded him back, faceless, unmoving, as if waiting for Dick to make the first move.

Dick didn't have a lot of options in terms of first moves.

So he took the moment to get a better grasp of the situation. He had a lot of practice with this kind of situation, it didn't take long to assess himself, the villain of the week, and the surrounding room.

He, himself, was fine. A little woozy from whatever drug was shot into his system, but it was fading with only slight lingering feelings of nausea, numbness, and weakness to the extremities. His hands were pressed between his back and the wall, his shoulder blades touching the faded wallpaper, making it clear his weapons had been removed. Other places that held weapons and tools were suspiciously light.

The person in front of him had a large, muscular build, in-between the range of Jason to Slade. Tall, closer to seven feet than six, combat boots, armored fabric suit, a gun strapped to a thigh the size of a basketball. The suit was nondescript, black, with the occasional gray accent, the armored fabric mixing with armored plates where organs are concerned. The helmet was nothing more than a glorified biker-helmet that wanted to look sci-fi.

All signs pointed to human and male, though meta wasn't ruled out yet. All Dick knew for sure was that this wasn't a run of the mill criminal; maybe something closer to a bounty hunter, or assassin, or some disgruntled asshole with a vendetta and actual knowledge of how to carry that vendetta out. Truly, the Slade vibes were strong with this one.

Dick couldn't see any other weapons on the attackers body, but granted, he was sitting on his ass against a withering wallpapered wall, head held up by a fist of hair, a helmeted figure crouched down staring back.

Behind the figure, however, was where Dick's eyes settled. The room was small, a hundred square feet give or take, comprised of cement floor, walls water-rotted and peeling, a door chipped and unkept. Between Dick and the door, however, was a collapsed body, dressed in familiar colors, cape tattered and clothes twisted.

Tim.

He laid curled on his side, hair waterfalling over an exhausted face. His arms were wrenched behind his back, no doubt restrained. What made Dick's gut squirm was the trail of blood dripping down an obviously broken nose, over Tim's tight lips, down his cheeks, puddled on the ground.

Fresh.

Dick's face must have done something with that observation, because his captor chuckled and turned their visor at Tim. "Poor boy needed come company."

Even modulated, the extra words allowed Dick to pinpoint the accent as American, West Coast. Not necessarily useful information, but hey, accents sometimes identified.

Dick tore his eyes away from Tim and clenched his fists tight enough the cuffs dug into his tendons.

"What do you want, you bastard."

An amused huff. "Nothing you can give me. I have you right where I need you."

"Why here? Why us?"

"The boy happened to be the first one I saw. You happened to be the first one to find my next trap. This isn't personal, bat."

Frustration pooled. "If you think this will get you Batman, or-"

The man laughed, letting go of Dick's hair and standing up. "Batman isn't my goal. I just need you here."

This can't be good. A villain wanting to get at Batman is one thing, a villain not caring about Batman is another.

Why capture them if not to interrogate them?

The man stepped away from Dick, and Dick felt his whole body tense as he stopped above Tim's prone form. Tim swallowed, then glared up at their captor.

Then their captor, with no warning, lifted a leg and nailed Tim in the stomach.

Tim choked off a breathless scream, and Dick found himself on his feet in the next moment. His vision, however, jolted, and his legs twisted around each other, tripping him up and having him crumple disgracefully to the hard floor with an irritated growl. Damn side effects of damn drugs.

Their captor chuckled, amused, and stepped over to Dick while Tim coughed for breath. A large hand wrapped around Dick's bicep then dragged him back to the other side of the room. Instead of just leaving him there, however, his hands were pushed down to the floor and the chain between his cuffs were locked onto something solid and unmoving. Some sort of bolt.

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon," The man said, stepping away from Dick, sounding full of himself and confident. The prick. "Play nice, and you both will get out of this alive."

Then, he left, stepping over Tim and leaving out the door, a lock sounding in his wake.

"Red," Dick called, the moment they were alone. "Hey, look at me."

Tim, his expression more out of it than what Dick's seen in years, turned his face toward Dick. "N... 'm sorry."

What had that monster done to Tim?

"No sorry," Dick said, forcing his voice to remain calm as he ran another scan along Tim's body. Nothing visibly violent greeted him back, nothing but the broken nose. Perhaps everything else was hidden under his suit, and perhaps the cocktail of a weak immune system, drugs, and captivity, didn't mix well. "I'm here now. Talk to me, what happened before I got here?"

Tim took a deep breath, stealing his expression and shifting slightly. "I- not much. He kicked me around a bit, only took me out of the room once to use the bathroom—blindfolded. Then he told me to... tell you to find his trap."

"Nothing about his goals? No questions or anything?"

Tim shook his head, then winced, spitting some blood from his lips. "Nothing explicitly said. I... think he has a partner outside, and I think we're just distractions."

"For what?"

Tim shrugged with the shoulder he wasn't laying on, looking frustrated and tired. At least the more he talked, the more awake he started to look. "It's a good plan if we are just distractions. When was the last time you slept?"

Ouch.

"I don't think anyone's slept," Dick responded softly, feeling like an idiot for being so predictable. If a distraction was the goal, then them both being captured will run the whole family down to the bones, cause them to lock up inwards and assume another will be next, focus in on the areas they disappeared from.

It could leave any number of targets around Gotham completely ignored.

"At least," Tim continued, "I think he's not going to kill us when they get what they want."

No, helmets and voice modulators and blindfolded bathroom trips didn't usually predict a homicidal villain.

"And if they don't get what they want?"

A beat of silence. "When I tried to convince you to not come... he broke my nose. No hesitation."

Great.

"Alright. We either hope they get what they want and let us go..." Dick looked around the walls, a single camera blinked back, no microphone. He lowered his voice. "Or we escape."

"How?" Tim asked, his voice going unimpressed, hinting that the boy had already been trying that.

Dick slowly sat up, angling his body so it didn't look too obvious he was hiding his hands from the camera. He wrapped his fingers around his anchor to the floor, the bolt wobbled a bit.

"Bolt's loose. I'll get my hands free, then I'll get us both out of here."

Tim relaxed a bit, relief a visible wave. "Sorry, but I'm glad you're here."

"It's okay," Dick responded, throwing a reassuring smile. "I'm glad too."

He'd rather be here with Tim than back outside, not knowing.

At least here, he had a chance to protect Tim.

-o0o-

The kidnapper, which Tim and Dick had worked together to nickname "Visor", returned about two hours later. Dick couldn't help but tense when the door opened while Tim gave a hard glare from where he had worked himself up into a seated position.

"The bats are widening their search a little too close to where I don't want them," Visor said as he walked in. "I need some incentive to drive them away."

Tim stiffened, his eyes traveling over to something Visor held, previously hidden from vision but now fully in view.

Dick stiffened too.

One of his escrima sticks was held in the enemy's hand, and the reason why wasn't hard to guess.

It wouldn't be hard to lure someone away from somewhere you didn't want them to be if you plant something elsewhere that would catch attention.

"You really think Batman would fall for something as obvious as that?" Dick asked, putting bravado into his voice and succeeding in catching Visor's full attention. "He's probably already figured out that this whole kidnapping thing is a distraction, planting something like that is just going to make it obvious that there's somewhere you don't want him to be."

He wished he could see Visor's face as the large man blankly observed him for a moment, it made it all the more unnerving when Visor broke into a low chuckle. "This is what I admire about you, Nightwing," he said, a smile in his voice, bringing his hands in front of his chest and running his fingers over the stolen weapon. "And what I was most looking forward to when I found it was you who fell for my second trap."

Cold fear settled in his belly. "What?"

"Your martyrism."

Then he turned and hit Tim across the jaw with Dick's escrima, causing the younger hero to fall onto the ground with a cut off shout, the blow coming as a surprise, the thud of his shoulder hitting the cement sounded like a distant roar of thunder to Dick's suddenly ringing ears.

"Hey- HEY!" Dick snarled, he couldn't help it, if Tim was shocked by the sudden violence, then Dick was caught in the whole lightning storm. He went to his knees, straining against the cuffs and the loose anchor. "I'm talking to you!"

Visor laughed, and it dug the pit deeper. "Now this is the cherry on top."

Dick had met plenty of sadists. He'd been held hostage by many of them. And yet, they usually took the bait, they usually ignored who Dick wanted them to ignore and went after him just to wipe his arrogance off his face. Sure, it cost him a straight nose, a scar here and there, a few weeks bedrest, but it was always worth it, because it meant he was the only one who got hurt. He did his job as the first Robin. As Nightwing. As the oldest brother.

But Visor had anticipated that, and instead of taking Dick's bait, he immediately found that the exact way to hurt both hostages the most was to keep Nightwing perfectly untouched.

He hit Tim again, but Tim didn't shout. He probably figured out Visor's goal was to make this hurt for Nightwing and had decided that keeping stony and quiet and brave would hurt Dick less. Tim had been through worse, after all. They all have. A beating with a glorified stick was nothing.

Somehow, it hurt more to see Tim glance at Dick, forgiveness and bravery and determination shining through those white lenses, than it would have been to hear him scream.

Dick wanted to scream.

He met Tim's eyes, and grinded his jaw shut.

By the time Visor had a satisfactory spray of blood across the escrima stick and left, humming to himself, Dick's wrists were slick and red beneath bands of silver, the anchor looser without him even intentionally trying.

And Tim laid still on the floor.

-o0o-

Hours passed again. Tim remained unconscious for most of it, even after Dick had tried and tried again to stir him with voice alone.

He watched Tim breathe, terrified one lungful would be the last, images of corpses and funerals flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked.

He couldn't do this again. He couldn't endure another sibling's funeral. A part of him died with every one—there couldn't be much more of him left. Them coming back to life didn't revive those parts of him. Those parts haunted him in his nightmares, and if Tim... if Tim didn't survive this one... if Tim didn't survive because some fucker knew it would hurt more to watch... those parts would drag him under, and he knew he wouldn't try to swim back up.

He worked at the bolt holding him down. Visor wouldn't have another chance to hit Tim again. When he came back in the room, Dick was going to end this.

Near the end of the third hour, Tim stirred, groaning.

Dick quickly called for his attention, and Tim, bless him, did his best to respond.

"D..ik?"

His jaw was swollen. A tooth had been spat out a blow or two before the blow that knocked him out.

Dick didn't even care about identities right now.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. I'm gonna get us out of here."

Tim took a few deep breaths through his mouth, spitting blood onto the floor, not daring to move what must be an aching body.

"... kay..."

"Just hold on a little longer. You're being so brave. Just a little longer, I promise."

Tim, half conscious, in pain, put on something that must be intended to be a brave face, but it only broke Dick's heart more. Tim lost the fight with consciousness, and fell back into what couldn't be a painless slumber.

About an hour later, Visor returned.

The anchor wasn't loose enough to escape yet, and Dick had to swallow his panic.

Even with the helmet, Visor didn't look happy.

"How did they know," he growled, striding forward and grabbing Dick by the neck. "How did you tell them."

The pressure wasn't strong enough to choke, but it was just shy of becoming so. Dick should feel afraid of that, and yet, he only felt relief that in Visor's true anger, he walked straight past Tim.

"I told you," Dick hissed, the fingers oh so close to squeezing, he could feel it inside his throat. "You're an idiot to think they wouldn't catch on."

The replying sneer was audible, physical in a twitch of fingers. "That's where you're wrong, we planned for this. I have two hostages, you're my bargaining chip for a prisoner exchange."

Dick thinned his lips to keep from vocalizing that in the end, when it came to the Batfamily, prisoner exchanges never worked in the enemy's favor.

"I just have to show them I'm serious first," Visor continued, his voice lowering to an eerie promise, like rolling fog in ancient mountains. "I only need one hostage."

The words processed milliseconds too late, Visor had shoved Dick away and had walked back toward Tim, kneeling, hands reaching towards his younger brother's neck.

Something untamable tore out of Dick's throat, taking control over his body. His heart was a beast clawing at his ribcage, panic swallowing him whole. As Visor began to choke Tim, the boy too unconscious to give more than the body's sluggish, natural reaction, Dick began to pull at his chains, at the anchor, the pain in his wrists meaning nothing to the mere feet between him, and the monster killing his little brother.

"You fucking bastard," he roared, vocal chords straining with his wrists, his own shouting thousands of miles away, drowned out with the suffocating panic and the ringing in his ears. "Touch him and I'll kill you!"

Visor ignored him. Tim was twitching, eyes opening with pain and confusion, legs jolting and arms tugging at his own handcuffs.

Seconds passed. Seconds that engrained themselves into Dick's soul like an unwanted tattoo. Finally, as Tim's face turned red under the blood smeared on his cheeks, as his eyes began to flutter back shut, the anchor fell loose.

It was as easy as breathing to contort his body in a way that allowed his wrists to pass under his legs and in front of his body. He was running the next instant, crashing into Visor, bodies colliding in shouts and struggles, shoulders hitting the cement away from Tim.

Tim erupted into very painful coughs, and Dick... Dick couldn't bring the monster back in.

His fists wanted impact. His fingers wanted pressure. His skin wanted blood that belonged to the man below him.

Visor didn't make the bloodlust easy. He put his weight into struggling. There was a reason this man was able to capture not one, but two bats within their own city. He fought back like a demon fresh out of Hell, his own blows landing with promised swelled purple bruises across his jaw, shoulders, neck, stomach. At some point, he even managed to kick Dick off with a heavy boot, knocking Dick across the small room and slamming his back into the water rotted walls. He said something, something prideful and angry and arrogant, something that turned to static to Dick's angry ears.

He went to kick Dick in the stomach before Dick could get back up, but while Visor fought like a demon out of Hell, Dick had an older devil inside of him, one that's been caged for much, much longer.

Dick will make him wish he went for the gun.

The pain meant nothing, it didn't slow him down as he scrambled to his feet and jumped onto the larger man, wrapping his legs around his torso and flipping him down onto the ground, back under Dick, at the perfect angle for Dick to bring his bound hands up and down over and over and over again until the helmet cracked, visor shattered, splinters going into bloodied hands below bloodied wrists controlled by a bloody hatred that, after this, he knew would haunt him.

Visor tried to fight back, and he tried until he couldn't. He tried until his helmet fell off and his face was exposed, cheekbones cut, nose cracked, jaw loose, eyes terrified and half-lidded and losing focus.

Dick didn't stop.

He wanted Visor dead.

He didn't stop until a body crashed into his own, arms large and strong wrapping around his waist and tearing him from Visor and pinning him down to the ground, heavy hands on his shoulder blades, pinning his bound hands between the cement and his heaving stomach. Dick struggled, brain screaming at the sudden change.

"Get Red out of here, B!" A voice shouted above him, "I got him!"

The voice was familiar. Through blurred eyes, the form that stooped down to Tim was familiar too.

Batman undid Tim's restraints and carefully lifted the limp body into his hands, eyes barely casting a second torn glance back at Dick, who was completely pinned under Jason's weight, before leaving the room.

Dick breathed. He breathed like he'd been deprived of air for hours on end, windpipe bursting open, the edges fading.

His brain caught up with him. Jason had positioned himself perfectly, almost purposely, to obscure Dick's view to Visor. He didn't release Dick, and Dick knew why.

Jason understood this anger. This fury. This rage that took everything that made you you and replaced it with something you wouldn't recognize in the mirror. He kept Dick pinned, not speaking, not accusing, not comforting, just there until Duke and Cass arrived to drag Visor out of the room, eyes very carefully avoiding Dick like if they looked, everything they thought they knew about him would be destroyed and replaced with something unstomachable.

When they left, Jason jumped off like Dick was on fire, and Dick scrambled away like he was acid.

Silence filtered between the two of them. Jason stood near the door, as if afraid Dick would bolt, but in all honesty, Dick didn't have even a fraction of the energy to do something like that, even if the anger hadn't suddenly been replaced with exhaustion and self-hatred.

"Was he breathing?"

"Tim? Or Zeek?"

Zeek. That was his name? Of course they figured that out too.

"Tim first."

"Yeah, B has him back at the cave. Alfred's got him stable."

Dick swallowed. How long had he been here? How long had Jason been here making sure Dick didn't murder someone? 

"Zeek is also alive, GPD has him handcuffed to a gurney on the way to the hospital."

Dick brought his knees to his chin... and he could only bring himself to nod.

Jason approached a second later and finally got the cuffs unlocked around Dick's shredded wrists. As he bandaged them, talked to him about getting him back to the cave... Dick felt nothing.

-o0o-

"Hey."

"... Hey."

"You weren't answering your phone, so," Tim shrugged, looking all too comfortable and normal standing in the entrance doorway of Dick's apartment.

"Tim, I'm..." Dick had his hand behind his neck, wrists achy. He regretted opening the door, he thought it was the landlord or something. "You look good."

Makeup covered the bruises on his neck, that much was obvious, and Tim wore a high collar hoodie. Everything else looked about as healed as Dick's wrists.

"Yeah," Tim smiled, pushing his way inside. "A few weeks of Alfred-enforced-bedrest can do that. Finally escaped."

"Tim, now really isn't a good time," Dick said as Tim took off his shoes and raided the freezer.

"Knew you'd have some," he said victoriously, ignoring Dick and pulling out a tub of ice cream. "You always have a stash. What are you feeling? I'm feeling a Lord of the Rings marathon."

Dick sighed, and closed the door. "I don't have the extended."

"That's alright," Tim pulled two bowls out of Dick's cupboards and set the tub of ice cream on the counter to thaw. "I brought them."

"Tim, what is this?"

"I think you know," Tim said lightly. "Bruce keeps saying that space is what you need, but I think ice cream will help quicker."

"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Liar. Well, that first bit is a lie."

"I'm dealing."

"With me, and ice cream, and Lord of the Rings."

Dick, defeated, sank into the sofa and grabbed the remote. "You're impossible."

"No, I just know you. You blame yourself for me getting hurt, and you blame yourself for not getting us out of there. I also know you want to wallow in your guilt for as long as you can, and you know the second I tell you I don't blame you, it's not your fault, you're human and you're a victim too, yes I know you still blame yourself so I'll forgive you for you, etcetera etcetera you won't be able to wallow in the guilt. Hence, the ignored phone-calls. Hence, ice cream. Lord of the Rings."

Dick sighed. "You can say that, but I still feel awful, Timbers."

"That's okay," Tim said, joining Dick on the sofa, handing him a bowl of ice cream, and pulling out the first DVD of Lord of the Rings, the extended version. "I'm here until you don't anymore. Keep in mind, I'm also feeling Pirates of the Caribbean."

That wormed a smile. It almost felt traitorously real. "And Star Wars?"

Tim stood up and went to the DVD player, opening the case.

"Star Trek too if you want."

"Thank you, Tim. And I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you, and believe it or not, it wasn't your fault."

He slid the disk in, and sat down next to Dick, leaning on Dick's shoulder with a content sigh, pulling his own ice-cream bowl up to his chin.

Dick couldn't help it. He melted, allowing Tim to get comfortable, allowing himself to get comfortable.

It felt vile to allow any kind of comfort, but Tim was right, they've had this rodeo before, and with quiet conversations during the quiet scenes, he wasn't surprised he felt a little better by the time they put in The Return of the King.

Not all the way. That would probably take a few more marathons, and maybe a hug, another bowl of ice-cream.

And for a whole night and most of the morning, the guilt went forgotten, and he knew it would be okay. He would be okay.

Because Tim was beside him. Breathing, alive, softly snoring as sunlight filtered through the window.

And that wasn't changing, not any time soon.

[themadsquirrel09]

On our hands

Written for this 🧡 @kenmanweek2023 ❤️ 

Fandom ☆ South Park

Ship ☆ KenMan ♡ KenEric (Eric Cartman x Kenny McCormick) 

Characters ☆ Kenny, Eric, bit of Mr. Kitty, Stan, Kyle, “Firkle” Smith.

Rating ☆ M

Warnings ☆ Violence, drugs (well, just tegridy), swearing, fluffiness that might give you cavities. They are aged up here. Also, English is not my native language; If you find mistakes, and tell me so I can fix them, I thank you.

Summary ☆ Kenny wonders what is it that keeps him close to his childhood friends, that night he finds out part of that answer. 

About it ☆ December 6th's theme was “Clubhouse!” I’m turning up late because I couldn't stop editing =u=’’ This fanfic works as a one shot, it is also part of an AU I'm slowly working on.

☆ 2664 words ☆

With love: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Stan

If I think about it, my life is damped by weirdness, dread, fun, and death. Maybe that's why I don't think about it, I just try to face it all with an unreadable look, and a calm disposition. It's ironic, then, that I find satisfaction in those moments of intense feeling, when I can’t contain laughter, pleasure, surprise, or even anger.

Makes me wonder if that’s why we are still always around each other; the four of us, I mean, it is like something sticks us together. Is it my love for intense feelings what keeps me close to my favorite assholes?

I make it to the bus stop, lazy steps, a bit of a blurred view, both because of the snow, and the black eye I have. I'm the first one here today, it's just me, and the snowflakes descending, dancing at the will of the fierce wind.

It's so fucking cold, but I have a trick for it. I look around to make sure nobody is close, take a deep breath, and start singing.

“Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

For merely dreaming we were snow”    

Smiling, feeling how my body relaxes a little, I keep the tempo in mind.

“A siren sounds like the goddess

Who promises endless apologies of paradise

And only she can make it right

So things are different tonight”  

Almost without noticing, my eyes are closed, and I'm gesturing with my hands.

“We'll go together in flight”    

My left hand bumps on something, someone! I jump to the side; it can't be sweet (possibly drunk) Stan, or an always open to listen Kyle, it has to be Eric fucking Cartman. I throw off my balance, and he grabs me by the hoodie’s collar, pulling me close to his face like he wants to fight.

He seems pissed, but not exactly, like some emotion I can't name burns from inside.

“Your face looks like shit!” He snaps.

“Fuck off!” He scoffs, and releases me slowly, almost like he waits until I have my balance back to do it. Weirded out by how quiet he gets, I have to ask: “What’s wrong with you, dumb-ass?” 

“With me? I’m not the one with an ass-face.” 

“Ass-face?” That reminds me of an old joke we pulled together, and I’m about to laugh, but he doesn't seem amused; he points at his right eye. Oh, the black eye! I almost forgot. “Yeah, well...” I trail off, I don't know why, I really want to talk about anything that isn’t my singing, so maybe he forgets about it.

“You are still doing it, aren't you, Kenny?” He takes out a cigarette package, and puts one between his lips. Then he starts looking for something as he keeps speaking. “You know, playing to be the hero at night”.

I freeze. 

How? Among all the possibilities, how does he know? He looks at me, and when our eyes lock, he seems surprised for a second, then he looks away. 

That unreadable look I try to keep dropped for a second, Eric caught me smiling like an idiot, (not my polite smile, neither the one I use to flirt); there’s just something about it that makes me happy. Cartman is now searching in his backpack, frustrated.

Getting close, I take out my matches, and light one. I've always loved everything about that: the smell of the matches, the way it sounds when you light it, the fire itself; even if I've died burnt alive, I still feel the same.

Since I'm so enamored looking at the flame, I flinch a little when Cartman takes my hand, he holds it still, and lights his cigarette. I look at Eric's soft features as he takes a drag with his eyes closed.

How is it that someone like him makes me feel calm right now?

“Ok, you got me.” I finally say; when he looks at me, I take the match, and turn it off with my tongue, enjoying the sensation, the taste, and, of course, the disgusted look on Eric's face. I laugh at him, and I catch him smiling at that.

“Are you smoking, again, Cartman?!” Kyle still tries to be the moral compass of this group, and so he tries to bat the cigarette out of Eric's hand, while dragging a mildly drunk Stan. 

The day takes its course.

It is one of those days, though, when I find myself standing close to Cartman, sitting at the desk next to him, feeling like smoking when he sneaks out. Listening to his voice, following every senseless word.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It shouldn't be such a surprise, that when the night comes, and I find myself looking at Mysterion in the mirror, I remember what Eric said in the morning.

“Was he worried?” The question comes out loud, followed by a snort. I feel so stupid for even considering that, and at the same time, I can't shake the feeling that my hunch is correct.

But I have to focus, this is important to me. All the other's took it as a game, and that's ok, I guess, sometimes I wonder if everything is just a sick game.

I wonder if I'll ever run out of lives.

I always find myself face to face with that question when death is near, and it is happening again, right now, as a rabbit masked guy punches me in the face. Oh no, not the eye that was already black, you motherfucker. I punch back as hard as I can, and look at the little goth, who's crying. He is the victim this time, I might not get his money back, but at least he will be alive.

“Dude! Fucking run!” I get to say before the creep gets up, and hits me right in the gut. I fall to the floor, but feel relieved when I see the goth is already running away.

Through my grunts, and the sound of the beating I'm taking, I hear a siren. Immediately, my attacker stops, and bails. He doesn’t even pick up the gun I got to kick from his hand. The fuck just happened? Has my luck finally changed? I smile at the thought of that, then I pass out.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Did I die, and went to heaven... again?” I ask faintly when all I can see are those pensive eyes so close to mine, illuminated by colorful lights. The puzzled look is also pretty. 

“If you think this is heaven, I'll have to take you to the hospital.” I shake my head at the word hospital. Where did you go? 

“I hate hospitals!” 

“I know, Kenny, but then why do you keep doing this?” He comes back with a wet cloth, and keeps cleaning my face; I start to understand little by little. 

“Eric?” 

“What?!” He snaps, why is he pissed? 

“Where am I?” 

“In our Clubhouse.” Even now that we grew up, this place is huge. Cartman even had electricity installed, but it all looks so much better! Like he has been spending a lot of time here. I think about what he just said, our clubhouse, huh? Smiling hurts, but I can't help it.

“How did I get here?” He looks at me for a bit. I wonder if it is the colorful Christmas lights he uses for the place, how he patiently cleans my wounds, or a concussion, but I can't stop noticing how cute he is. Well, at least with my good eye.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I heard a noise, I followed it, and found you here.” I can’t remember that, it hurts my head just to try.

“Why are you helping me?” He laughs.

“How do you know I'm helping you? Maybe I'm just curious to see you die.” Eric puts his hands around my neck, and presses a bit. He has the softest hands I've ever felt. I let out a satisfied hum.

“Erotic asphyxiation has been one of my favorite deaths, go ahead then.” He lets go instantly.

“Goddammit, Kenny!” Cartman stands up, and storms out. I close my eye for a second, and breath, trying to stop myself from laughing, as it really hurts. I hear his steps on the wood, the water running. We even got plumbing installed, didn't we? 

When I look at him from afar, a realization hits me, my laughter dies instantly.

I haven't noticed because the mask, ears, and cape are missing, but Eric is in his disguise: he is The Coon. Looking down, I find I'm laying over a sleeping bag, and it is not a cover what keeps me warm, but The Coon's cape. My heart hammers with all its might, like it wants to be left out to curse, and explode.

I wonder if this time I'm going to die from a heart attack.

Why would you save my life, and then lie about it?! It can't be, right? But I have to know. So I stand up, ignoring how much it fucking hurts, grabbing what I can to get close to him. He turns, maybe at the sound of my steps, and rushes to me just before my legs give up, I fall into his arms, and we both land on the floor.

“Kenny!” Oh, you can’t fake that voice, that urgent look in the eyes. He curses as he takes me back to the sleeping bag. “Kenny, what the hell?” 

“You fucking liar!” He ignores my accusation, as he seems more worried about treating a reopened wound. “If you just want to see how I die, then stop trying, let me die!” I bat his hand away from me, and Eric turns red out of anger, but it also looks like he is about to cry.

“Shut up, Kenny, you asshole!” I take my hand to his face, and place it in his burning cheek. 

“You don't wanna see me die, huh? You saved my life,” He looks at me, his frown dissolves. “Admit it!” 

“OK! You got me! God fucking damn it,” He leans a bit into my hand. “Will you stop crying now?” Then he goes back to the bandages, tightening loose ends.

“I'm not crying.”

“Ha! Who's the liar now? Fucker,” As he says that, he goes away for a bit, and when I touch my face I notice that yes, I'm crying, I'm not really sure why, but it is relieving, so I let the tears flow. 

Eric comes back. “Here,” he offers me a neatly made blunt, “You are always on about the medicinal powers of weed, and shit.” Honestly, I never thought he was listening to me. I grab him, and pull him into a hug.

“Let me go, Kenny… ” He says weakly, not bothering to fight my affection. And I remember this morning, I was wondering what kept me close to Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. I'm pretty sure about the answer now, at least when it comes to Eric. 

“I don't wanna let go,” He sits up slowly, and I cling onto his neck, allowing him to lift me up. “Thank you, Eric,” I say, holding him tight. And it is weird, how the happiness, and affection I feel at this moment makes me forget about the physical pain. As a reply, I feel his arms wrap around me softly.

“Am I a hero?” I really wish I noticed before that I wasn't the only one who took it seriously. I finally let him go, to look into his eyes.

“You are a hero,” I admit, he smiles, seeming sincerely touched; I take his hands in mine, and hold them, “You are my hero.” I enjoy the shocked, then flustered look as he struggles to escape my grip. It is not everyday you get to see the shy side of Cartman, it is like the hidden face of the moon.

I take the blunt from his hand, and look for my matches. When I find them, I place myself with my back against the wall, he sits beside me. I take a drag, and pass it to him before it goes out. When I watch how the smoke escapes his lips, I feel mine go dry remembering our kissing lessons; but then I look at his eyes, and notice the dark circles under them. 

“This place looks better than ever, are you living here, or what?” 

“Sometimes. I like it here.” 

“You said it is our clubhouse, so I can come whenever I want, right?” 

“Well… ” He gives me back the blunt, and gets himself inside the sleeping bag, “Only if you finish it.”

“The hell are you talking about, Eric?”

“The song, the one you were singing at the bus stop.”

“Dude,” my voice comes out low, but my heart protests loudly; now I'm the one feeling shy. “It's a fucking long song, like 7 minutes, shit!”

“I don't care, Kenny, it is our clubhouse, but my garden. If you wanna make a deal, start singing.” He lies on his side, smiling at me, so full of himself. Then he closes his eyes; I know it won't take him long to fall asleep. Fuck! 

Fuck it. 

I take that old smartphone the guys gave me years ago, and play the song's karaoke. I breathe into my gut, and let it out. 

“Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

For merely dreaming we were snow

A siren sounds like the goddess

Who promises endless apologies of paradise

And only she can make it right

So things are different tonight”  

It might be dumb, but the song makes sense to me for the first time. I take another puff, looking at Eric, wondering if he is still awake.

“We'll go together in flight”  

I hope he is sleeping, as I slowly lie on my side, facing him, making sure not to sing too loud the next part.

“It's now and never

A reverie endeavor

Awaits somnambulant directives

To take the helm

Believe me, darling

The stars were made for falling

Like melting obelisks

As tall as another realm”  

Oh, shit, the part in french! If he is listening, he'll never let me live this one down.

But I’m determined to finish what I started.

“Un ensemble d'enfants

La galaxie s'étend

Jardin de l'imagination

Combler la lacune

Roller passé la lune

Comme nous evoluons

It feels like flying

But maybe we're dying

A cosmic confluence of

Pyramids hologrammed

She knows you heard her

Staging music murder

In line before the show began

To be where I am”      

I hear a noise, that's when I see Mr. Kitty! 

The cat comes right to me, and crashes our foreheads, which hurts, but mostly makes me laugh; I take it as cat affection. He climbs Cartman’s side, who grunts softly, but seems asleep.

“To know

We are beyond a bow

And lo, the hues arrange to show

It's perfectly clear”    

It is strange how Eric can look so peaceful. His hands are right in front of me, so I take them in mine. 

There’s no reaction.

“You look quite divine tonight

Here among these vibrant lights

Pure delights surround us as we sail

Signed, yours truly, the whale

Joy mirage's kingdom come

No one left at stake

Now that existence is on the wake

Let's see what we can make”     

Mr. Kitty climbs down, and lies right between us, looking at me.

I hum, then sing a bit to him, getting a loud purr as a reply.

“Bye, hi

Sigh, Hawaii

We never meant to part

Sublime, thy art     

One light

Higher than the Sun

Invisible to some

Until it's time”      

At the last verse, my gaze falls on our hands, and I fight how sleepy I am just to linger a bit in the sensation. 

Drifting to the point of no return, I feel Eric’s hands squeezing mine lightly, I wonder if I'm already dreaming.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅••❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The end (for now!)

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Final notes 💌

I loved writing this, and I hope you loved reading it!

A little of context: they are in the last year of school. If something is left unsaid, it is because I'm slowly working on this AU for my favorite troublemakers. 

About the song: I chose one that would suit Kenny’s voice, I thought this one was good, and my own Mr Kitty agreed! Kenny learned to sing, reaching a professional level on S04E04 ∣ Quintuplets 2000. That song, as I see it, ended up working on more levels than expected, you can find it here.

[the-fab-fox]

COME ONE. COME ALL.

YE FIRE EMBLEM: THREE HOUSES FANS.

Tonight starting around 7:30 PM to 8:00 PM, join us for a fun, relaxing, chill hang out as I read your favorite fanfictions out loud!

I've always wanted to do audio work. Voice acting and voice overs and audiobook reading. It's all stuff I want to do some day so this seems like good practice as well as fun for all of us!

Here's what I need from you:

Send in some of your favorite fluffy ship one shots from FE3H.

Then tune in tonight @ FABULOUSFOXPLAYS on Twitch at around 7:30-8:00 PM PST to see if I pick yours.

And to give love and support to the author, all of us comfortable doing so will leave lovely comments and kudos (or reblog and comment if on Tumblr). Then we can also help get the story out there for the author.

Sounds fun, right? So please come join and support your favorite FE3H fanfic writers!

*Note: You absolutely are allowed to send in your own fic if you'd like me to read it.

Now don't send anything in that is:

Over Teen rating

Smut

Extremely graphic with violence or abuse

Or anything that could be potentially triggering. (I don't suspect we'll have too much issues with fluffy ship one shots but you never know so just to be safe.)

This will be an ongoing series titled "Lazy Fanfic Sunday" as l plan to open it up to other fandoms if it does well. If y'all have any questions about this particular series, please let me know.

NOW HEAD ON OVER TO FABULOUSFOXPLAYS ON TWITCH AND GIVE THAT FOLLOW BUTTON A LITTLE CLICK!

I look forward to seeing y'all over there! And don't forget to send in your faves!

[sheetsonfire]

In The Morning

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Brian Zvonecek x Fem Reader

Genre: Fluff, romance

Warnings: None

Word Count: 754

Summary: Brian comes home to his girlfriend from a shift, a cute little one-shot.

-

It’s around 7am when you hear the muffled thunk of the door closing and the faint click of the latch being connected. You can envision it in your head, the toeing off of his shoes, the rustle of his jacket as he tries to hang it up without knocking anything over - he had an irrational fear of being clumsy when coming home, and he hated waking you up.

You smile in your bleary-eyed haze of sleep, scooting over from your sprawled position on the bed to make room for your companion coming up the stairs, you hear his awkward halted steps and it makes you shake slightly with giggles beneath the duvet, he really was too much of a worrier for his own good.

The door swooshes quietly open and then closes once again with a quiet click too, then comes the sound of his jeans and t-shirt hitting the pile of other clothes in the laundry bag, and you finally encourage your eyes to open properly. The faint light of the street lamp illuminates his kind face, daylight not yet fully appearing. You smile at his soft expression as you catch his hazel eyes already looking at you, adoring. 

Your voice is thick with sleep when you speak, “Mhm, hey, love. How was it?” You scoot yourself up a little so you can focus on him properly, wiggling your fingers as you invite him into bed. He wastes no time in scooting under the covers, freshly showered from the firehouse, you took a second to inhale his conditioner as you carded your hand through his hair, kissing his cheek, moving to brush your lips against his softly, his moustache scratching ever so slightly. He hums, a warm hand resting on your waist. 

“It was alright, daytime had a construction mishap, plenty of stove fires, not too busy tonight, a few car wrecks, a small car fire, no fatalities. Got to come home to you, I’d say that I’m doing alright.”

You smile sleepily, “Mhm, that does sound like a fair enough deal.” Tugging him down against the pillows so you can nestle into him, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

“Smells like Baba’s baking downstairs…” He murmurs, humming happily as you stroke along his arm, coming to rest your hand on his chest. 

“That’s good to hear, I did use Baba’s recipe…” You tease, not quite revealing what you’d made. He turns slightly to look at you with excitement, 

“You baked something using Baba’s handwriting?” His eyebrows go up, not even he could really make head nor tails of Baba’s delicate yet cryptic script sometimes. 

You snort, “Yes, using Baba’s handwriting, I’ve got good at reading it. Besides, she taught me last time she was here and I made notes then too.”

You feel Brian squeeze you closer, nuzzling into your neck, “Why are you the best?” He sighs happily, you knew how much giving him little pieces of home made him feel closer to his family, his Baba especially.

“Oh shush, it’s just baking, but I’m glad it puts a smile on that handsome little face of yours.” You pinch his cheek lightly and he chuckles softly. 

“You’ve spent too much time with that woman.” He remarks, amused and touched that you loved his grandma too, Joe had been harder to convince at first.

“We’ll see if it’s been enough when we try my Medovik later.” Brian groans, 

“God, if I wasn’t so tired I’d get back out of this bed and grab a slice now.” 

You playfully swat his arm, “No Medovik until you’ve got some proper rest… Besides, you’ve got a parcel from GameStop downstairs, so we can enjoy a morning of cake and cats.”

Brian’s copy of Stray for PS5 had finally arrived, and even you had been excited to muscle in on having a go. 

Your boyfriend sighs happily, rolling over with you to spoon you close, “Best day ever, let’s get some more sleep so it can come sooner.” 

You giggle, nodding, “Sounds good, baby, sounds good.” You would most likely get up in a few hours and let Brian sleep peacefully whilst you got some work done on your laptop and did the errands you needed to before spending time with him.

Holding onto Brian’s arms around you, you let yourself get a little more shuteye, the comforting weight of his body against yours lulls you into a deeper slumber than before, and the soft snores of your boyfriend go unheard by your ears.

-

Fin.

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

[chaotictarlos]

flames of desire, only burn hotter: masterlist

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings (will be updated as more fics are added): m x m smut, m x m, sex, blow jobs, oral sex

Summary: A collection of smutty one shots that can be read alone.

Author's Note: I have a bunch of random smutty scenes I've written, mostly for friends, that do not fit in with any fics that I have written or are writing so I decided to start just posting them on AO3. I will take request for these so if you have any, just pop into my inbox and let me know!

Blow Job

Carlos looks so pretty on his knees for TK. 

TK stares down at his husband, licking his lips slowly. He loves seeing Carlos like this, so open and vulnerable for him. He reaches out and runs his thumb over Carlos' bottom lip.

2. Thigh Riding

Carlos is cruel.

Why else would he have TK completely naked and straddling his thick, muscular thigh? Why else would he tell TK that he had to rut against his thigh until he comes, untouched?

Sure, it was a fantasy that TK had been having for a while, but he hadn't expected Carlos to really go for it or be so nonchalant about it.

3. "the night's definitely not over yet"

Carlos is sure that he’s died and gone to some sort of heaven as TK wraps his pretty pink lips around his dick and starts to suck his cock like he needs it. 

TK knows how to suck dick, in a way that makes Carlos go numb with pleasure and lose all thoughts from his head. TK is talented in ways that Carlos has never experienced before - and he's had his dick sucked many times by many different people.

4. "No touching right now. That comes later."

TK whines, his back arching off the back perfectly. It’s such a beautiful sight that Carlos has to take a moment to just look at his husband, and appreciate his body. There’s a thin layer of sweat clinging to TK’s skin that he wants to lick off… and he will soon.

They’ve done this before, many times, and yet it always feels different each time.

5.  " You're mine, understand?"

“You’re mine , understand?” Carlos growls, fingers wrapped around TK’s chin as he gives him a look filled with jealousy and lust.

TK whimpers, squirming under Carlos’ gaze. The possessiveness laced in Carlos’ voice shouldn’t be so hot, but it has TK growing hard in his pants.

“Prove it,” TK says, licking his lips and giving Carlos a mischievous look. He knows he’s playing with fire and that it’s a 50/50 chance that Carlos will punish him and not let him come tonight, but TK enjoys the thrill of it. 

6. “i’m afraid i can no longer remain professional”

TK is convinced that Carlos purposely wears his work uniform a size too small just to ruin him. 

He stares unabashedly at Carlos, or more specifically his bicep, and how his work shirt is struggling to contain the muscle. He is surprised that the shirt hasn’t ripped with how tight it is. He wonders how the shirt survives him flexing.

“TK, if you stare at him any longer you’re going to be drooling,” Nancy says, snapping her fingers at him. “And I don’t think the patient wants drool all over their face.”

7. "Shut up and kiss me already"

Nobody should look as good as TK does in a softball uniform, that Carlos is certain. He’s also certain that TK has to be wearing uniform pants that are at lease two sizes too small for him because they leave nothing to the imagination.

Carlos bounces his knee, watching TK pace around their loft as he goes on and on about how the paramedics should have won and he knows that Judd cheated somehow - he can’t prove it but he knows, TK says twice giving Carlos a look that he has to agree.

Carlos nods, but all he can think about is getting those damn pants off of TK.

It’s another five minutes before Carlos breaks.

9. "You can be a bit rougher if you want."

Carlos rocks back, moaning when TK’s cock slips deeper inside of him.

It’s been too long since he’s bottomed and he had almost forgotten just how much he enjoys it.

“Come on TK, I won’t break,” Carlos moans, trying to encourage TK to be rough with him. He understands that TK’s worried about hurting him since it’s been some time since Carlos has had a cock up his ass, but Carlos also knows his limits, and right now he wants to be fucked dumb into the mattress. 

10. Knife Kink

[captainsophiestark]

Rubber Duck

Enzo St. John x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Prompt: “Isn’t it time for you to go to bed?” “Isn’t it time for you to mind your business?” “...Okay. Bed, now.”

Summary: Y/N's been up for hours working on a final project for their coding class, and they're starting to go more than a little crazy. Thankfully, their boyfriend Enzo is there to help them, in more ways than one.

Word Count: 1,621

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I squinted at my computer screen as I hit enter for the seventeenth time tonight, hoping against hope that this time my code would work. I'd been trying to write my final project for an upper-level computer science class for hours, and no matter what I did, my code never worked the way I wanted it to.

I was going absolutely crazy.

I watched my program run line by line, trying to focus on my breathing to keep from screaming out loud. When the program output an error, I failed, and couldn't hold back a shout of frustration.

I put my head down and scowled as I started scanning back through my code. I'd read through this a thousand times already, what the hell was I doing wrong?

A second later, the door to the bedroom flew open. My boyfriend, Enzo, came flying out of the room at top speeds, looking ready to kill anyone in sight. He whipped his head from side to side, looking for whatever threat had made me yell, but I barely even registered that he was in the room.

"What's the problem?" he barked. I didn't look up from my laptop as I responded.

"The problem is this stupid code is fucking with me!" I cried, throwing my hands up in the air. The other alternative to deal with my frustration was throwing my laptop across the room, which I narrowly kept myself from doing.

"So there's no emergency, danger, or threat? And you just screamed for no reason?"

"What about my answer made you think I was screaming for no reason?"

Enzo sighed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him run his hands through his hair as I kept scanning through my code. I heard him move into the kitchen and start doing something in there, but I tried to block him out as I kept reading through my code.

I could feel myself getting more and more worked up, so I broke my gaze from the screen and forced myself to take a breath. I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair, and after I'd taken my moment, I opened my eyes to see Enzo walking towards towards me with two mugs in his hands.

"You seemed like you could use some nice, calming tea," he said with a smile. He carefully sat down next to me and offered me a mug, which I took. I stared holes into the floor as I sipped it, and Enzo watched me patiently. Finally, I looked up at him, an idea springing to mind.

"Do you want to be my rubber duck?"

Enzo's eyebrows rose. "What on Earth does that mean? Don't tell me you've finally lost it over this coding you're trying to do."

"No, it's a thing in programing. Programmers have a little rubber duck that sits on their desk that they explain their code to, and it helps them figure out whatever the issue is that they're not seeing. But I don't have a rubber duck."

"Ah, I think I get it," said Enzo, giving me a smile as he leaned back into the cushions. "Fire away, love."

I grinned, then set down my mug and turned back to my code. I started at the top, working through every step in my process and explaining it carefully to Enzo. He had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, but he nodded along like he did, which was all I needed.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I found my tripping point. I had to go back and reread the line of code a few times after I'd found it, since it was such a simple, stupid mistake that I'd been staring at for hours and hadn't caught. I swore loudly, then moved to fix it.

"I take it the swearing and scowling is a good sign?" asked Enzo. I shot him a look, then went back to my coding.

"In theory, it is a very good thing," I muttered as I scanned through my code one last time. "But I'm not giving you an answer until we find out if this shit is finally going to work."

I took a deep breath and hit enter, then crossed my fingers and my toes. Enzo watched with an amused smile, but my focus stayed on the laptop before me.

I didn't dare move or breath as my program ran, lest it disturb something in the computer or just make my program angry. Time seemed to slow as I waited, but finally, the correct output appeared on my screen. No error message to be found.

"Yes!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air. I quickly reigned myself in and went to save and submit my code. Enzo leaned forward, but I ignored everything else in the world until my computer told me my code had been successfully submitted to my Professor. As soon as it was done, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and shut my laptop.

"All done?" asked Enzo.

"Yes, thank God," I sighed, putting my laptop aside. I sank back into the cushions, then gave Enzo a smile. "And thank my rubber duck."

He grinned and leaned forward, hovering over me on the couch.

"Glad I could be of service."

I smiled as he leaned down even further, slowly closing the distance between us. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair as he kissed me, and the tension from coding eased out of my body as I melted into him.

We stayed like that for a good, long while, enjoying my newfound freedom from my coding project. When we finally broke apart, Enzo gave me a lazy smile that I absolutely adored.

"I don't know about you love, but I'm beat. Ready to head for bed?"

"Yeah," I said, giving him a small smile. "You go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

Enzo hummed and kissed my forehead, then stood. He took both of our mugs into the kitchen, then gave me one last look before going into the bedroom. I knew he'd want to wait for me, but hopefully he'd be tired enough that he'd just go back to sleep.

Despite the fact that I'd finally gotten the coding project off my back, I now had to make a final presentation for the same class. I'd already stayed up this late, so what was the harm in a little more sleep deprivation if it took me one step closer to being done with this class forever?

I reopened my laptop and got to work right away. I quickly realized, however, that one of the drawbacks to working when you're extremely tired is that sometimes the things you come up with make way less sense. Besides that, formatting is always a bitch, even when you're fully rested. I glared at the half-started presentation still in front of me. I would make it work, dammit.

After probably twenty minutes, I heard the door to the bedroom open again and Enzo's soft footsteps as he came out. He walked around the couch to stand in front of me, hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised.

"Isn't it time for you to go to bed?" he asked. I barely looked up as I replied, the exhaustion and work-driven craziness really taking hold.

"Isn't it time for you to mind your business?"

"...Okay. Bed, now."

I started to protest, but before I knew what was happening, my laptop was closed on the couch and Enzo had thrown me over his shoulder. That damned vampire speed.

"No, Enzo, come on! Once I finish this presentation I'll be so close to being done with that class!"

"Y/N, I could see the slide you were working on over your shoulder. It's four in the morning. Nothing you're going to do on that presentation right now is going to hold up once you've had some sleep."

"What? I thought it looked good!"

"I say this with nothing but love for you, but it looked absolutely horrible."

With that, he slung me back over his shoulder and dropped me on the bed. I started to sit up, but before I could, Enzo was next to me with an arm around my waist, holding me in place.

"Using superstrength is cheating," I whined as I turned to scowl at him.

"I'm perfectly comfortable with that," he said, a soft smile never leaving his face. I wiggled a little more and made a fuss, but now that I was horizontal in a comfortable bed, the exhaustion was quickly taking over.

"Relax, love, and get some rest. You need to take care of yourself," he said, pulling me in a little closer and placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. I snuggled into his chest, but still managed to fire off a retort.

"No you."

Not even a little bit my best, but I was exhausted, dammit.

I felt the rise and fall of Enzo's chest as he chuckled, and I could hear his heartbeat from where I lay. Despite my best efforts, I had no hope of holding off sleep for another second. My boyfriend's arms were too warm, too safe, too comfortable. He ran his fingers through my hair as unconsciousness finally took over, and I got the first moments of some much needed sleep.

I may have wanted to keep working on my project, but Enzo was right. I did need to take care of myself. And I was eternally grateful to have a wonderful person like him looking out for me the way he did.

[procrastinatorimagines]

The Perfect Proposal

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Series: One Shot

Pairing/s: Blake Gallo x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,056

Request: can you do a Blake Gallo imagine where he proposes?

Masterlist

@jinxytheshippr

Blake had been distant with you for over a week, and you were getting anxious.

He was always huddled around with Ritter or Violet; they would stop talking when you came over or change the subject, making it very awkward and clear you weren't wanted in the conversation. He wouldn't even tell you why or admit it when you brought it up with him.

So you were surprised, to say the least, when he asked you to go to dinner with him, out of the blue, one Friday after shift.

"Tonight?" You asked.

"Yeah, why not? We haven't done it in a while," he was smiling, but he looked nervous, figdety almost.

You'd been together for years, since around the time he'd joined 51, and you loved him, but you were starting to wonder whether this surprise dinner was his way of softening the blow of a break up, especially given how much time he'd been spending with Violet.

You had never been the jealous type, but you'd been out with friends last week when you saw him come out of a jewellery shop with Violet. It wouldn't have really bothered you, except he'd told you he was spending the day with Ritter, so what were you supposed to think?

Blake didn't seem to notice your hesitation to respond, and kept talking as he seemed to pace in front of where you sat on the couch. "I was thinking that little Italian, you know the one, round near the firehouse, we've had some our best dates there and-"

"What's going on?" You blurted out, unable to take it anymore as you stood up. You'd barely slept all week this was on your mind so much, you needed to know, now.

"What do you mean, can't a guy take his girl to dinner?" He asked, pausing in his steps to look at you.

"After basically ghosting me for a week, lying to me about who you're with and what you're doing..." you waved your hands, frustrated.

"What do you mean?" He seemed genuinely confused.

"I saw you, last week, jewellery shopping with Violet when you told me you were shooting pool with Ritter," you told him, "I called you, to see how you were getting on, I could see you on the phone telling me that you were kicking Ritter's ass at the table while you were stood there with her."

His mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to say.

"I love you, and I trust you, and I'm not expecting to know where you are or who you're with 24/7-" you were getting increasingly flustered and upset as you spoke, tears welling and throat closing as you willed yourself to hold it together, breathing deeply as you continued, "-but if you're planning on taking me out to a nice dinner to soften the blow of breaking up with me, don't bother, please save me the humiliation and do it here and now."

"Break- what? Break up with you? You think?" He shook his head, waving his hands rapidly to say that was not his intention at all, "God no, Y/N, I'm not- you think- I'm so sorry."

"Then tell me what's going on!" You threw your hands in the air and save a frustrated sigh, turning around as you did to compose yourself and wipe away the tears that had broken free, "what aren't you telling me?"

When he didn't respond, you took a deep breath and turned back to face him, only to find him on one knee next to the coffee table.

Your hands flew to your mouth, eyes open wide. There, in his hands, a beautiful red velvet box, housing an even more beautiful diamond ring.

"Blake-" you didn't know what to say. This was the exact opposite of where you thought your evening was heading.

"I know I've been acting strangely," he explained, taking rapidly in the way he did when he was nervous or worried, "but I've been trying to plan this perfect proposal, and Ritter and Violet have been helping me- Violet, she helped me pick out the ring and turns out she is the same size as you so she went with me to get it sized-"

Oh, you realised, making sense of what you'd seen at last.

"-and Ritter, Ritter has been my alibi whenever I needed one, like last week, with Violet, or the other day when I went to talk to the restaurant about the booking for later-"

"Blake," you knelt down in front of him and cupped his hands in yours, stopping his adorable, sweet rambling. He took a breath of air for the first time since his explanation began.

"I'm sorry," you began, but he cut you off.

"I'm sorry, I had tunnel vision trying to make everything perfect that I didn't even think about what it must have looked like from the outside," he apologised, "I love you."

"I love you too," you told him and he smiled, relief clear on his face.

There was a pause.

"So..." you encouraged.

"So... what?" He tilted his head with a confused look on his face you always found adorable, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"So, are you just going to keep kneeling on the floor with a ring in your hand, or are you going to ask me to marry you?" You elaborated, looking from his face to the ring.

"Are you going to say yes?" He countered tentatively, this evening clearly not going where he expected it to either.

You beamed, "you're just going to have to ask me and find out."

You let go of his hands as he took the ring out of the box, holding it to you. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Yes," you breathed immediately and he let out a whoop of joy and relief, picking you up and spinning you around, knocking the air out of your lungs as you both smiled widely, as happy as you'd ever been.

Once he'd put you back down he fumbled to place the ring on the right finger, but when he did, it fit perfectly. Violet really did have the same ring size as you.

"Sorry it wasn't the proposal I had planned," Blake said, holding your hand in his.

"Maybe not," you said, "but it was still perfect."

[writercole]

Just A Memory

Summary: Being called back to Top Gun wasn’t something that Rooster Bradshaw expected. What he expected even less was what awaited him the night he got in. Squares: “Memory I Don’t Mess With” @anyfandomangstbingo // Free Space @anyfandomgoesbingo // Swimming in Winter @taylorswiftbingo Words: 866 Warnings: Angst Credits: @princessmisery666 for the beta. And @evansrogerskitten @bradshaw-fanclub for the constant hype and inspiration. A/N: Yep, another fandom. I’m hopelessly obsessed with Top Gun: Maverick and it’s all Stacey’s fault. I do, however, not mind one bit because have you seen them? I know I hate Tom Cruise and all but the movie is so great. A/N 2: This could serve as a stand-alone one-shot or it could serve as an epilogue to Stacey’s upcoming Rooster fic. Either way…I’m not sorry.

If there was one thing Rooster Bradshaw never thought would happen again, it was walking into The Hard Deck and seeing her leaning against the bar, laughing with a drink in her hand. He froze for a moment, mesmerized by the sparkle in her eyes as she talked, the way her hands moved as she spoke.

He shook his head and moved over to the pool tables where he could see some of his friends hanging out. As they talked, he found his eyes drifting back towards her, memories flooding his senses.

December in California is still fairly warm compared to the rest of the country. Rooster walked down the beach with her by his side, fingers laced together, footprints behind him as they talked quietly.

He slowed to a stop and looked out at the horizon. Closing his eyes, he let the warmth of the setting sun relax his muscles.

“What’s on your mind, Bradshaw?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

A mischievous smirk graced his lips and he scooped her up, carrying her kicking and squealing into the waves, the cold water making his muscles tense while he laughed, twisting them and falling into the icy surf with her on his chest.

She slapped his chest when they surfaced, yelling about how they were going to be sick and then they’d have to explain to everyone how that came to be. He watched her rant with a soft smile on his face, knowing that he was falling for her and knowing that he was going to have to take a step back.

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix shouted, trying to get her friend’s attention.

“Huh? Yeah,” he replied, snapping out of his own head.

“Where are you tonight?” she asked as her eyes searched his face for any clues.

“Nowhere,” he insisted. “Just here.”

“Liar.”

Bruce Springsteen flowed through the open windows of his truck as Rooster laid in the bed with her in his arms. His skin felt like it was on fire as her fingertips traced the hard muscles of his chest.

He tightened his hold on her, a heaviness settling in his chest. He knew something awful was going to happen, he could feel a weight in the air, an ominous foreboding, the kind that settles over an area before a storm. 

He almost welcomed the impending doom. He didn’t know what it was but he knew it was going to cost him her and that was something that he was forcing himself to be okay with. He couldn’t afford to fall for her anymore than he already had. He was destined to die on a mission like his father and he didn’t want to leave anyone behind like his mother was left behind.

He felt her fingers stop moving and he looked down to see her asleep on his chest. He swallowed hard as he watched her dozing, wanting to savor the peace as long as he could. They had promised to meet up for drinks with the rest of the squadron. He knew he should wake her but he just wanted to keep this bubble for a little longer before everything started to blow up.

“I’m, uh,” Rooster said as he stood from his stool, “I’m gonna go.”

“What? You just got here, man,” Payback countered.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too great,” he lied as he grabbed some cash to pay for his drink and made his way to the bar.

He waved Penny down and handed her the bill, telling her to keep the change. She must have read the look on his face because she didn’t say anything, just nodded solemnly.

Rooster rushed out of the door, hurrying to his truck but stopping when he heard his name called. He hung his head and took a deep breath before turning around to see her walking off the porch of the bar.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“You’re rushing off pretty fast,” she commented, her eyes attempting to hold his gaze.

“Uh, yeah, early start tomorrow,” he lied again, his hands finding their way to his pockets.

“You look good.”

“Uh, you too,” he mumbled, still unable to make eye contact with her.

“Bradley, why are you acting like this?” she questioned quietly, taking a step towards him.

He stepped back to keep the distance between them, unable to have her so close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” she insisted. “It’s because I’m here with him, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” he denied with a shake of his head, “why would that bother me?”

“Because it always has.”

“I’m over it. But hey, it was good to see you. I really gotta go, though,” he told her.

She nodded and turned away, heading back into the bar and the arms of her lover.

He watched her walk away, disappearing into the bar crowd. He put his head on the steering wheel and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to disappear. He hated how he had behaved but he knew. It would be too easy to fall right back in love with her and this time, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

She was with someone else and they were just a memory.

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