#and thank you! glad you think its cool! i had Fun screwing around with it

[spotsupstuff]

Remember that ask about puppets being organs ? I am curious about the rest of the doodle page and how that arm works, it's really cool !

oughhgrhghh the agony of decision making wether to keep it for the full post or nooooooo,,, oh fuck it here u go

not as content-full as my more recent noodle pages, but ah well. the idea behind this whole thing was actually revisiting my old design ideas from two years ago n see what i can do with them with my current skillset!

the inspiration behind the arm is people bitchin (/lh) in the tag about how there's too much importance put on the puppets in the fandom while mostly ignoring the rest of the superstructure (maybe even demonizing it??? idk. it's kinda valid. some Iterators themselves demonize their structures- oh wow isn't that a fun string of words). i do sorta agree but also like. u do what makes this whole thing fun for you, yanno

other ideas i had when pondering how to make the puppets more puppet-like:

as for the finalized hand design, idk! the idea was that the cables are the hard connection (+ the arm can find the puppet after letting it go, i like to think the only way for the Iterator to see is either thru the overseers or its puppet's eyes) and the fingerpads are softer connection that kind of Finalizes the whole sync by letting the Iterator project their consciousness into the thing fully

here's Nish waving hi, say hello to dad hotman n baboo Hunter

#Spot says stuff #rw #we have fun in the good ol' art program Pain Tool SAI circa 2010s yes... #congrats on bein the one who made me pull out SAI today sdlgjscmsdklm #and thank you! glad you think its cool! i had Fun screwing around with it

[theartingace]

26/26 rating for bones 👌

tho i must ask… did they fuse your subtalar joint??? Bc those screws are very much going through both?? How long were you non weight bearing with those honking screws??!

Secondarily, you have very nice bones and a very nice Achilles tendon, very smooth, fibers so organized, making that calcaneal tuberosity nice and dense 🤌🏻 I spent a solid 10 minutes describing all the fun stuff i saw to my sister who just nodded along pretending she could see what I was talking about

Hope your recovery is going smoothly!

Sincerely, someone in a physical therapy doctoral program who has taken a single course on reading radiographs 😅

Ok, sorry I meant to answer this privately but apparently tumblr has removed that feature?? I can only post privately and I don't know how that works and if you could see it?? 😥😭 But FIRST of all, this made my day as a distraction from work 10/10 analysis of my good bones 🤣

And yes! I had a subtalar arthrodesis! They fused the mid bone and heel as I had some sort of tarsal coalition (unsure if it was just congenital or stress-injury related from a terrible walking job when i was young) that had basically half-fused it anyway lol

And I was completely non weightbearing for a long 8 weeks over the winter and I've been slowly hobbling around for the last 8 weeks or so going from crutches to cane to just a brace building the muscles back haha My mom is actually a physical therapist!(retired) so I was letting her 'manage' my recovery, though as she spent most of her career working with geriatric patients I'm going into get some additional PT to make sure I've been retraining the muscles properly- I had quite the ballet foot and I think it still wants to stick out 😂

But that's so cool! I love this kind of stuff! Its so wild to me all the stuff you are able to see in there, i think its neat and all i can see in there is vaguely identifying all the major bones! and I overexplain dinosaurs to my siblings all the time, sometimes you just gotta let the knowledge out! Glad it all looks shiny and strong, I've put a lot of miles on them and hope to get back to wearing them out hiking again soon!

10/10 love a good bones analysis thank you for your kind words and well wishes 😁💜💜

#asked and answered #medical #tw:medical #just descriptions #sorry if you wanted this to be private! #I was happy to chatter directly at ya #but tumblr be tumblr #and I really wanted to respond #cause it made my morning :D #but I can delete if it causes any discomfort :) #also I would love and treasure your analysis of my funky foot

[letsgofoletsgo]

My part of an art trade for @pinkdinkydoon!

The sun shone brightly upon the deserts of New Mexico, swathing the land in its signature heat. As the temperatures rose into the 90s, the locals of the small town found their ways to keep cool. One such family was doing just that, spending their day at the local pool. 

“Damn it Kyle! No fair!” Stan yelled, recovering from a sudden spray to the back. 

Kyle simply laughed as he dove underwater, Stan giving chase. On the other end of the pool was Lici and Randy, leaning against the concrete edge. 

“This was a good idea Ran.” Lici said. 

Randy shrugged. “Gets the kids some exercise, and keeps us from melting.” 

“True.” 

Lici watched the boys play, each determined to get the other with their soakers. She smiled at the nostalgic scene.

“You ever screwed around with a soaker like that when you were a kid?” She asked Randy. 

“Well, most months it was too cold at South Park to go swimming.” He began. “But I think my folks took me down south to this cheap water park a couple times. Met some kids who gave me a water gun that barely worked, but we had fun anyway.”

“Heh, that sounds like a fun way to spend a weekend.” 

“Yeah. It's nice that the boys get to have that sorta thing more often.” 

Lici nodded. “Guess its a perk of dating some desert hick like me, huh?” 

This garnered a chuckle from Randy. “Perk indeed. Though, I can name a few others.” “Oh?” She scooted closer to the edge of the pool.

“Well… You’re smart, sensible, you don’t take shit from anyone,” he began, “you’re funny, creative, you know what you want..” he paused for just a moment, giving a smirk. “Shall I go on?”

Lici rolled her eyes playfully. “Aren’t you the charmer?” 

“I can be smooth when I want to be.” He joked. 

“Guess that’s a perk of your own.” 

Randy laughed. “Would be the first time someone’s agreed with me on that. Sharon always thought it was annoying when I tried to be romantic.”

“If you ask me, that woman could find anything to be annoyed about.” She scoffed. 

“Heh, tell me about it. Wish I realized that sooner.” 

Lici sighed. “Randy, I know I don’t know the whole extent of it, but I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” 

“Thank you. I mean, can’t go back and change the past. I’m just glad I get to spend the future with you.” 

“Me too.” She smiled.

As the water rippled around them, the two were thankful to have each other in their lives, and to be able to experience this moment with each other.

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq fic #hq osamu

[raineydays411]

The best of friends pt3

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: So it turns out that you do have other friends. Who would’ve guessed? 

A/n: Hello! So.. because i don’t feel like writing the whole fight scene, the events of homecoming already happened before the actual dance and Liz is moving after the school year ends.

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

“Am I dreaming or is that you Jason Todd?”

“Yeah its me, don’t cream your pants.”

You laugh, running to embrace your friend, and he catches you spinning you around then putting you down. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask breathlessly, “Doesn’t your dad hate leaving Gotham?”

“Well he had a meeting with your dad today, so we made him bring us.” 

“Ohh, so that’s the meeting dad didn’t want to go to” You think.

“You’re brothers are here?” You look around for the boys, but not seeing any.

Jason laughs, “Just Tim and Damian, I kind of ditched them at the Tower, I think I would’ve gone crazy if I stayed another second.”

“Aw, were you expecting me to be there?” You tease, grinning wide as the boy turned a light shade of red.

“Oh please, if you were there I think I’d die of boredom” He teases back, a matching grin growing on his face. But before you can answer back you hear Mj shout at you. 

“Y/n! Are you gonna keep flirting or can we go on some rides?”

“Yeah Iron baby, are you gonna keep flirting?” 

You roll your eyes at the nickname, despite your protests you know he’s not going to stop calling you that. 

“Hey you’re not here with anyone are you?” “Um no why?” 

You grab his hand and pull him towards Mj and Ned, who were looking at the both of you in shock.

“You’re Jason Todd..” Ned says, surprised to see him here.

“Uh..hi” Jason responds, not knowing what to say.

“Jay and I are friends” You say, “ We hang out at the galas and judge people.”

Jason laughs, “That is not what we do.” 

“Oh? So then why do you mean mug people from the corner of the room?” 

Mj and Ned make eye contact, having a silent conversation as you and Jason banter. 

“So, you’re one of Y/n’s ‘friends that don’t live in the city’?” Mj asks, eyeing Jason and you. 

He slings and arm on your shoulders, “ Is that what you call us Y/n?” He turns to Mj to respond but before he can answer Peter and Liz finally make an appearance. 

“Oh so you two finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Mj drawls 

“Sorry guys, I really wanted this Spiderman plush and Peter was trying to win it for me” Liz says with a giggle. Peter blushes, not taking his eyes off Liz. 

You frown at the sight. Frustration growing in your head, this was supposed to be your day with Peter. And now it was ruined. 

“You spent over an hour trying to win a little doll?” You said bitterly, making everyone stare at you. 

“Ah come on iron baby, we all know those games are rigged.” Jason says from beside you. You tear your eyes away from Peter and Liz, “Rigged or not, I bet I can win a prize before you, Jay-Bird”

“Oh is that a bet?” “Um yeah, I literally just said that.” “Okay fine!”

Then you and Jason are off, running towards the nearest booth that gives out prizes. 

“Umm, who was that?” Peter asking, looking in the direction you ran off. 

“That was Jason Todd” Liz responds, “ You know, Bruce Wayne's son.”

“What was he doing with his arm around Y/n?” he asks with a frown.

“Well apparently they’re friends, he just showed up. We didn’t even notice him until we saw him spinning Y/n around like a washing machine.” Ned says with a laugh.

“What, so they’re like...close?” Peter asks. Mj and Ned look at each other. 

“Um I guess...” Ned says hesitantly.

“Well, I for one, haven’t heard Y/n talk as much as she has been now.” Mj says, a knowing look on her face. Peter made a face, not understanding what Mj was talking about. 

“That's true” Liz adds in, “She’s pretty quiet, it’s kinda weird.”

“Well to be fair you two haven’t been exactly talking to her.” Ned defending you, “ She opened up quite a bit after she got comfortable.”

“Yeah, besides, Peter is the one who she knows the best, I wouldn’t be comfortable hanging out with people I just met.” Mj says, glancing at Peter. 

Peter didn’t know how to feel. At first he was psyched to be spending time alone with Liz. He didn’t even think about how you would feel when he invited her and his friends on your shopping day. This whole day he was trying to get closer to Liz, he forgot that you hardly knew Ned and Mj.  But it was okay, you gained two new friends, and now Peter has a chance with Liz. 

He looked at Liz, 

“She looks so pretty” He thinks, but deep in his mind, a voice kept bringing up an image of your face.

“Oh shoot” Liz says, “ Hey guys, my mom is here to pick me up.”

“I’ll walk you to the car!” Peter shouts, startling Mj and Ned. 

‘Okay thanks Pete!” Liz says, wrapping an arm around his. Peter turns back to Ned and Mj with a grin. 

Ned winks back and Mj just rolls her eyes, going to find you and Jason. 

As Peter and Liz walk, he starts to get nervous. This whole day he has been alone with her, but now...now he has to leave an impression. 

“I had a lot-” “It was really coo-” 

The two laugh

“You go first” Peter says.

“It was really cool of you to invite me, I had a great time.” Liz says with a smile. Peter grins, happy that she had a good time with him. and his friends.

“Yeah? I’m glad, I had fun too.” 

They finally make it to the parking lot where Liz’s mother is waiting.  Liz’s face suddenly looks nervous.

“Hey Peter,” Liz turns to Peter, “ Do you have a date to homecoming?”

Peters breath hitches, “Um..no-no why?” 

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

He...he isn’t as excited as he thought he’d be. In fact, this was kind of anti-climatic. 

“Y-yeah, of course!” Peter says forcing enthusiasm.  Liz’s face brightens and she smiles, pulling Peter into a hug.

“Awesome! I’ll text you with the details later?” She asks, pulling away to get into the car.

“That sounds great” Then without warning, Liz grabs Peters face and gives him a quick peck. 

“I’ll see you later Peter Parker.” and with that, she hopped into her mom's car and drove away. Peter stood there, hand on his mouth looking at the spot Liz stood. 

For some reason..he didn’t feel as happy as he should’ve. 

“What is wrong with me?” He asked himself. He shakes his head and turns around. Ready to walk back to where he last saw his friends. 

Turns out, they were all at a booth near the parking lot. And saw the whole thing.

“Dude!” Ned said running up to Peter, “Liz Allen just kissed you! You’re going to HOMECOMING with Liz Allen!” 

“Yeah..I am” Peter says, forcing excitement for his friend,” I can’t believe it.”

“Dude! You’ve been pining over her for YEARS! “ Ned shouts, “ You did it!” 

Meanwhile, Mj is rubbing your arm in comfort as you hold back tears. You saw everything. Peter really didn’t like you the way you thought. You felt defeated, betrayed even. All those moments...they meant nothing to him.  Every moment you held close to your heart. 

“Hey, are you alright Y/n?” Jason whispers, sensing your sadness. 

“um..no not really...” you whisper back, feeling a tear run down your face. Jason wipes it away before you could. 

“Hey, come on lets get you something to drink.” He pulls you away from Mj with a nod. But before he could get far, Peter called out

“Y/n..are you okay?” 

You don’t say anything, your back turned to him so he doesn’t see your face.

“She’s not feeling too hot, I’m gonna get some water and food in her, see if she perks up” Jason responded for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Peter looks at the arm, “I can do that” He steps closer to you but before he can touch you, you speak up.

“Don’t touch me, I want Jay to take me.”

And with that, Jason adjusts his grip on you and walks you to a food truck. Leaving behind a disheartened Peter. 

You sit on a bench as Jason orders you some food. Alone, you’re able to gather your thoughts and think about what just happened.  

“Did Peter really not like me? If he didn’t why did he act so flirty with me?” 

It made you mad. It wasn’t fair that he made you feel special then dropped you as soon as someone else came along. He ignores you all day for her, then acts innocent? Screw that.

“Here you go, one greasy ass burger and a bottle of water. We dine like true kings.” 

Jason plops down next to you, “So are you gonna tell me whats wrong or what?”

You scoff, “ Wow, you sure have a way with the ladies.” 

“Whatever.” the raven haired boy rolls his eyes, “ So what’s up? Is it that Peter kid?”

You sigh and explain everything. From when you first met Peter to now. After you were done, Jason stayed quiet. Digesting what you just told him and trying to find the right words to say.

“Fuck him.” He says simply. 

“What?” You say surprised at his comment. 

“Fuck. Him” He repeats looking you in the eye, “ Why are you going to waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you? It’s his lose anyway.”

You stay quiet, not exactly knowing how to respond. 

Two of you eat in silence, watching parents run after their children, and take in the atmosphere. 

“Hey.. we never did finish our bet.” Jason says, standing up. 

You look up at him, a small smile forming on your face. “No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Well come on, I don’t have all day.” He holds out his hand, refusing to look at you. You take it, interlocking your fingers.

You walk in silence, faces red but its comforting. It was nice to see this side of Jason. When the two of you see each other, you both have a this fake persona for the media. You couldn’t truly show who you really were. You only caught glimpses of each others true self when you’d sneak away from the crowds. You both hated those stupid galas Bruce threw. Your dad would force you to go so he wouldn’t be alone, and Jason had to go as Bruce Waynes son. 

A match made in heaven.

“Here we are.” Jason says, releasing your hand. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“Oh you wish Todd.”You scoff, walking up to the man running the booth. 

“Hello little lady, three bucks for a three chances.” 

You hand him the money and get the balls. It seemed simple enough, toss the balls, knock down the clowns, win the prize. 

You wind your arm back, and throw the ball with all your might. You end up knocking down two out of the five clowns down. You go again, getting the other three.v

“You got a good aim little miss. What can I get for ya?” 

“The Iron man please.” You hear Jason scoff from his place behind you, “ Oh, is someone a little salty he lost the bet?”

“Whatever princess, it was pure luck.”

“Luck? or years of training with an expert marksman?” You say referring to the times you trained with Clint.

“Whatever.” He says rolling his eyes.

“Aw come on Jay bird, don’t be so salty.” You coo, “ Here, something to remember me by.” You hand him the Iron man with a smirk.  He takes it with a sigh, trying to hide the smile forming on his face. 

“Yeah yeah, come on let's go play that booth with the balloons.” He takes your hand, dragging you to the booth. 

It turns out to be a game with water guns. You both race to make the balloon pop. Jason wins at this game 

“Ha” He says turning to you with a smirk. “ Aw, come on Princess, don’t be so salty.” He turns to attendant “ yeah can i have the Red Hood, thanks” 

He hands you the Red Hood doll, “ Here, something to remember me by” 

You roll your eyes, “ Don’t you use my words against me.” You take the doll, looking it over, “ Hey, why the Red Hood?”

Jason freezes, as you caught him in a lie or something. “Uhh, cause...he’s from Gotham, and so am I...” 

You squint at him, finding his response weird, “Um, okay?” 

He looks relieved with your acceptance. Weird. 

He takes your hand again and you both walk around, catching up on stuff you’ve missed in the months you haven't seen each other. While you were talking, you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of light from the corner of your eye. 

Oh well.

“Hey guys, over here.” 

You both turn to see Ned and Peter. 

“Hey, where’s Mj?” You ask as the two boys walk up to you and Jason.

“She had to leave, her dad picked her up a few minutes ago.” Ned replied, “We were coming to look for you guys.”

“Oh, are you ready to go?” You asked, “ Is anyone picking you up Ned?” 

“Nah I’m spending the night at Peters, we’re gonna watch Star Wars.” He says excitedly. 

Jason snorts, and you elbow him in the stomach, “ I happen to like Star Wars very much. And even if I didn’t, don’t be a dick to my friends.” 

“Sorry man, you just reminded me of my...brother, Tim. Sounds like something he’d like.” Jason says apologetically. 

“I’m friends with Y/n Stark..” Ned whispered.

Peter was quiet, he hasn’t said a word since he saw you and Jason laughing together. His mood worsened when he saw your intertwined hands. 

“So, you’re feeling better.” Peter states, avoiding your eyes. 

“Um, yeah...guess I just needed some food in me.” You mutter. An awkward silence coming over the group. 

“Hey are we going to ride the subway? It sucks going on there at night.” Ned says breaking the silence. 

“Is it? I know I hated walking around at night back home.” Jason says with a frown.

“Yeah man, my mom had to work late one night and she said she saw two homeless people getting it on.”

The four of you cringe at the thought.

“I’ll call Happy” You say pulling out your phone. You walk away, letting go of Jason's hand.

The three boys are left alone, not exactly knowing what to say to each other.

“So...how do you know Y/n?” Ned asks

“Oh uh” Jason goes to say how he knows you when he stops, he noticed how Peter’s mood seemed to worsen when he saw him with you. 

“Me and Y/n ditch galas together.” He says, “ We sneak into my room and...play games.” 

Peters face darkens, “Play games?” 

“Yeah, you know”

“No. I don’t.” 

“Interesting..” Jason thinks to himself 

“Like poker and shit”He replies, “ She’s shit at it, but i like seeing her get all happy when she wins so I let her.”

Peter smiles, knowing how happy you get when you win at games. Then frowns, knowing that Jason has seen you the same way he has. 

“Hey, whos that?” Ned asks, “ He’s been looking at Y/N for a while now.” 

Peter and Jason whip their head towards where Ned was pointing. Low and behold, there was a guy staring at you. You, too busy on your call with Happy, weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. 

The guy looked like a creep. His eyes roaming your body as if you were a piece of meat. It was disgusting.  But before Peter could do anything, Jason was already striding towards you. 

Now, Peter was strong, but he wasn’t too intimidating out of his suit. But jason? Jason was massive, even for an eighteen year old. He was tall, very well built, and just had this dark aura around him. 

Peter didn’t like him. 

Meanwhile, you were chatting to Happy about the where you were, apologizing for calling him so last minutes. 

“Thanks so much Happy, I’ll see you right now.” 

“Yeah yeah.” He hangs up. You chuckle putting your phone back into your purse. Looking up you see Jason striding towards you. 

“Hey i just-” He cuts you off, harshly slamming his arm above your head and leaning in close. 

“Theres a man staring at you.” He whispers, “ Right over there.” 

You follow his gaze, seeing the man who has a frightened expression. Jason was sending a death glare his way that could have frightened Batman himself. The man scurries off without a second glance.

Jason gently thumps you on the back of your head, “See what happens when you stand there like a space cadet.”

‘Oh..I was?”

Peter and Ned walk up to the two of you

“Y/n, you have to be more aware when you’re by yourself.” Peter scolds. 

“He’s right, or its going to be your own damn fault when someone kidnaps you.”

“Oh right.” You say standing up straight and alert. Jason rolls his eyes.

“We said when you’re alone.” “Right.” you say still alert.

“You don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me, you can space out whenever you want.”

“Oh? You gonna protect me Jay-bird?” 

Jason just smiles, not responding as he looks away from your face. 

“So, is Happy coming or what?” Peter asks rudely, taking you by surprise. He’s never talked to you like that before. 

“Um..yeah he’s on his way.” You respond, “ He should be here in a few minutes.”

Peter nods. Yet another uncomfortable silence falls on the group. 

You start walking to the entrance, and without a word the boys follow you. 

You don’t get it, first Peter ignores you all day and now he’s mad at you? What the hell is he playing at? 

“So I’m assuming you’re staying at the Tower?” You ask Jason, “ Your dad would be blowing up your phone if you weren’t.”

“I turned it off” Jason says with a smirk, “ I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

You laugh at his antics, knowing that he’s gonna get an earful when he gets back. Then. from the corner of your eye, you see Peter roll his eyes and glare at Jason.  Ugh, what a weird day.

Finally Happy, shows up. You pile into the car, a tight fit with all four of you, but you make it work. 

The tension in the car is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Happy doesn’t even make any comments, he just drives to Peter’s house to drop him and Ned off. As soon as he gets there, he jumps off the car as if something bit him. Going into the building without a goodbye. Ned just awkwardly smiles and says bye, then follows Peter into the apartment. 

“Okay...That was weird.” Happy says, “What happened? Usually the kid won’t shut up.”

“I have no idea. He’s just being a dick I guess.” You respond sourly. Looking out the window, signaling that you were done with the conversation. 

You finally get home, exhausted physically and emotionally. As you ride the elevator, you think about today's events. So much has happened today it makes your head spin. You were,’t even paying attention when you got to your floor, Jason having to nudge you to get you to move.

“Jason.”, you hear a deep voice rumble. You look up at the sound and giggle

“Looks like you’re in trouble Jay-bird.” “Shut up, please.” 

You laugh again, “It’s lovely to see you again Mr. Wayne, are you staying at the Tower tonight?”

“Hello Y/n” Bruce says, “ It seems so, seeing as my son has been missing all day and we’ve missed our check in time.” He glares at Jason. 

“Aw come on Bruce, we’ll all have a sleepover, bread each other’s hair and tell secrets” You dad says coming out of nowhere. He pecks the top of your head. 

“Hey kid, how was it?” 

“Ugh, don’t even get me started” You say rolling your eyes, “ How was the meeting?” 

“Ugh don’t even get me started.” Then he turned to Jason, “ Hey, didn’t know you were a fan.” 

You laugh, knowing he’s referring to the plush you won for him. “Where’s the rest of the boys?” 

“Damian fell asleep and Tim is in your fathers lab tinkering.” Bruce responds, “ I was about to head to bed.” 

“Oh me too, I’ve had quite the day.” You hug your dad, “ Night pops.” 

Then you turn to Jason, “ I had fun today Jay, thanks. Good night Mr. Wayne.” 

And with that, you walk off to your room, desperate to shower and sleep this day away. 

“So, care to explain why your phone was shut off?” 

Yikes, poor Jason.

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker imagine #tony stark x daughter!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel and dc #crossover #fanfic #reader insert

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

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

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

#ANON IM SO SAD AB THE CHARACTER LIMIT I HAD SO MUCH TO GUSH AB AND SO MUCH TO SAY #BUT I COULDNT LMFAO #im so sorry BAHAHAH i really hope you enjoy it!!! #yes ofc there will be another part who do you think i am😔 #the next one might actually end me... #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #megumi x y/n #megumi fanfic #megumi x you #megumi x reader #toji x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #megumi smut #toji smut

[ohgodmyeyes]

Hot Wax (Like A Band-Aid)

Luke Skywalker x Reader, 2k words. Modern AU? Mature, but no sex.

Summary: Your infallibly sweet husband, Luke, helps you wax your pussy because you’re too pregnant to do it yourself.

...

"I— um, I'm not sure about this anymore. This stuff is hot."

"Come on, Luke! You promised you'd help!"

Luke looked up at you from between your legs, desperation writ on his face. He had to peek around your belly to do it— you were about eight months pregnant right now, which was why you'd enlisted his help with this in the first place. He might have been nervous, but you weren't about to let him back out now... especially given the fact that it was his baby whose steady growth was preventing you from performing your usual hair-removal ritual.

"I just— I mean, I don't want to hurt you. And anyway, you know I don't care whether or not you—"

"I care," you interrupted him, from your spot on the living room couch. "I like how it feels with no hair down there, and anyway, you've already trimmed everything down to the right length— you don't want to quit with the job only half-finished, do you?" Appealing to Luke's sense of duty, you thought, was the most effective way to get him to do something he didn't really want to do.

"Trimming it was easy," he mumbled, seemingly to himself, as he peered back between your legs as if to examine his own work. "This seems... I don't know, dangerous." He paused. "...You didn't really used to do this by yourself, did you?"

"Of course I used to do it by myself," you told him. You weren't crazy about the idea of a stranger removing the hair from your vulva; you'd always shaved or waxed it yourself. Now that you couldn't see the area in question well enough to perform the task, Luke was the next best option— whether he thought he was or not. "Now, hurry up and start putting it on before it gets too cool. The sooner you get to it, the sooner it'll be over."

Luke sighed in defeat. He was sweet, you thought— sometimes almost too sweet. When you'd told him you needed help with something, he'd agreed right away, before even asking what it was you needed him to do. He was probably thinking, now, that he'd made a mistake; however, you knew that with the right amount of reassurance, he'd do a fine job of grooming your pussy. Luke was good at nearly everything he tried, and you were sure this would be no exception.

"...Alright," he conceded. "Alright, fine. But if I screw up, you're not allowed to get mad, okay?"

"You won't screw up! You'll do just fine." You spread your legs as widely as you could, and went on to instruct him, "Just gather some of the wax up on the little stick, and spread it into a line wherever you want to start. Leave it for a minute or two, and once it's hard enough that it makes a noise when you tap it with your fingernail, it's ready to be pulled off."

"Won't that hurt?" he asked, the concern in his voice coming through loud and clear.

"Of course it'll hurt, but only for a second."

"What if you yell? What if there's blood? ...Wait, this can't hurt the baby, can it?"

"I might yell, but there won't be any blood," you told him. "And no, there's no way this can hurt the baby." You placed a hand gently upon your stomach and smiled. "I think she's asleep right now, anyway," you added. "She won't even notice."

He laughed despite himself. "Still think it's a girl, huh?"

You hadn't opted to find out the sex of your baby; you'd both agreed a surprise was a lot more fun. You had a feeling you were carrying a girl, although Luke happened to disagree.

"I do," you said. "It's just a feeling I have, though— we'll find out soon enough."

"I still can't believe you're doing this for us," he said, peeking around your belly and back up at you one more time. "You're going to be a fantastic mom, you know."

"I'm glad you think so... but you wanna know what I think?"

"What?" he asked, flashing you one of his loveliest smiles.

"I think you're going to be a fantastic esthetician. As long as you don't let the wax get too cold."

"Okay, okay! You just want me to start, then?"

"That's exactly what I want."

He shook his head and sighed again, but that sweet smile didn't leave his face. "Okay. I'm going to start at the bottom, and work my way up. Does that sound alright?"

"Sounds fine to me, Luke. Don't worry, it'll be over in no time."

He went to work, after that— just like he said he would, he started at the bottom, with what felt like an appropriately-thin strip of wax in just the right position. He was quiet while he waited for it to harden, and so were you. Your hand stayed on your belly; the baby still seemed to be asleep.

Luke was going to be a wonderful dad, you thought absently as you waited for that first strip to cool— he'd proven to you over and over throughout the course of your relationship that he was willing to do just about anything for the people he loved. Waxing your pussy was just the most recent manifestation of that willingness, and you appreciated it... especially considering that he didn't care whether you were fuzzy down there or not.

"Okay," he said, after a couple of minutes had passed. "I think it's ready. What do I do now?"

"Can you tap it with your fingernail?" you asked, just to confirm that it was, in fact, time to pull it off.

"Yeah, I can. Do I just... pull?"

"Hold the skin right below the edge of the wax so it's super-tight, and then rip it off as fast as you can."

"'Rip it off'?"

"Yep— just like a band-aid."

You heard him take a deep breath, and then he did exactly as you had told him: He held your skin tight with his fingertip, and proceeded to wrench the strip of wax right off of you. You shrieked, partly because you weren't the one doing it; partly, too, because it stung. It would have stung no matter who'd been doing it.

"I'm sorry!" he said. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to—"

"I'm fine," you laughed. "Actually, it felt exactly the way it's supposed to. How does it look?"

"Like your pussy has a bald spot."

"Well, then you'd better get started on the rest."

Having taken on a more serious expression (Luke always looked quite serious when he was hard at work on something), he glanced up at you, nodded, and went on to complete the task of rendering your pubic area perfectly smooth.

You didn't speak anymore so as not to distract him; he didn't say anything else either, except to confirm, periodically, that you were still alright. Every time you squeaked or squealed or otherwise showed even the slightest hint of discomfort, he looked up at you with concern; however, he didn't deviate from his task. By the time he'd worked his way up to the spot just beneath where your belly bulged out, he seemed as though he'd grown quite comfortable with the process.

"Looks like I'm just about done," he said, as he spread one last strip across your mound. "How do you feel?"

"A lot better," you answered, and that was the truth. Not being able to do this job for yourself happened to be one of your least favourite parts of being heavily pregnant. It was worth it, of course; you'd always wanted a family with Luke... but carrying a child did come with its fair share of frustrations and inconveniences. You were glad to have someone like him, who was willing to help you with whatever you needed, whenever you needed it.

Luke, you mused, was an infallibly sweet man— you'd always considered yourself very lucky to have him, and the fact that he was willing to do this for you only served to drive that point home.

By the time you'd finished contemplating how wonderful he was, he'd warned you that he was about to pull off the final wax strip. You told him to go right ahead, and so he did— and with one final pinch (and shriek), the task was complete.

"You have a pretty pussy," he said admiringly, running a finger along the edge of your outer labia. You looked around your belly and at his face; he was smiling again. It made you smile, too.

"Only thanks to you," you said. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you helped me with that— it was driving me nuts."

"It wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be," he admitted. "I just didn't want to hurt you— you, or the baby."

"You didn't," you said, heaving yourself back up into a seated position (Luke, being the gentleman that he was, helped you by taking your hand and giving it a gentle tug as you did). "We're both just fine. Although I do think I might have woken her up with all my yelling."

"She— I mean he— woke up? How do you know?" He got to his feet, and then sat down beside you on the couch, eyes trained on your stomach.

You gave him a look, and took his wrist in your hand. "She's kicking," you told him. "Right about... here." You placed his palm on the upper part of your belly, just a few inches above your navel. You couldn't actually tell if the baby was kicking or punching right now, but she was certainly doing something, and you had no doubt that her father would want to feel it, too.

He waited a few moments, staring curiously at his own hand. Then, all of a sudden, a broad smile completely overtook his features.

"Feel that?" you asked, with a grin of your own.

"Yeah— yeah, I did feel it!"

"Strong, isn't she?"

He appeared to think for a moment. "...Maybe you're right," he said. "Maybe it is a girl."

"What makes you say that?"

"All the strongest people I know are girls. You, my sister— my mom, too, from what my dad always tells me." He took his hand off your belly then, and leaned in closely to offer you a kiss. "Do you know how proud I'll be if our baby turns out to be even half the person you are?"

You looked into his eyes, which were absolutely brimming with love. Yes, you thought— you really were very lucky to have somebody like Luke to share your life with.

"Whether it's a boy or a girl," you said to him, "I hope they turn out to be just like you— kind and loving, and always willing to help anyone who needs them... even if the thing they need help with is kind of awkward." Like pussy-waxing, you thought. "You know that's why I fell in love with you in the first place, right?"

He blushed, which he'd always been prone to doing. "You're too nice to me," he said. "I just didn't want to hurt you— I wasn't going to tell you I couldn't do it without at least trying first."

"That's why you're a perfect husband, Luke... and it's why you're going to be a perfect dad, too."

You put your arms around him after that, and drew him in as closely as you could to give him a tight squeeze. He hugged you back, and went on to whisper something into your ear... something about heading to the bedroom, for the purpose of more thoroughly checking his work.

With a giggle, you nodded emphatically, and watched as he stood up. Once he'd deftly helped you to your feet, you sauntered off together hand-in-hand, down the hallway and in the direction of your favourite place to spend time together.

All of your 'spending time' together might have been the very reason you couldn't wax your own pussy today... however, not being able to see between your own legs for a few months was a tiny sacrifice, given all of the wonderful things that came with being tied to somebody as kind and generous as Luke.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x y/n #fanfic #star wars #pregnant #pregnancy #pregnant reader #pussy wax #waxing

[lightspeed-lightspeed-lightspeed]

How did it happen?

(Bucky barnes x Female reader)

A/n:  (Tw: cat. If you don't like cats gtfo of here) Although it is narrated in third person, the narration gravitates more around Bucky's pov (sorta). This is gonna be quite lousy so have fun, I guess.. If you can.

"How did this happen?" he whisper-sighed. "How? When?" He asked himself as he was staring into the distance, absent-mindedly stroking the white ball of fur curled up on his lap. Alpine let out a soft meow as if answering his soliloquies.

But for real though, how did he fall for you? The last he checked, you both were calling each other names out of contempt. Y/n y/l/n was simply insufferable, he always thought. Where did your acts of annoyance start blooming into everything he now yearns for?

As much as he would like to hide behind the idea that these sudden, irrational feelings hold no reason and meaning- how could he? How could he hide from what he knows? from what he realized? He could lie to himself all he wants- Hell, he had been lying to himself all this time, ignoring the wisps of light that marked the warnings through the pavements of this path he was sauntering down. He was walking into love and he refused to know it.

He wondered how different things would be now if he hadn't screwed up in your last mission and got you demoted to the archive library duty. Of course, jeopardizing a high stakes mission by starting a quarrel during field action is a grave mistake, but still Fury was being a little too extreme by suspending Y/n off the field for a month. Bucky didn't really believe that any of it was his fault, according to him it was you who were being your impossible self on the field that day. But he did feel sort of bad for you now. Maybe what Bucky shouldn't have done, was to try and make it up to you by spending time with you in that desolate library. Truth be told, it was partly an excuse for wanting to be around you.

There he was again, his thoughts lingering around you. Recounting the events of day before yesterday.

(  The  day  before  yesterday  )

"Did you find it?," Bucky's voice echoed through the aisles as he walked towards the base of the ladder you were perched on looking for an old file Bucky needed for his mission. "Not just yet," you mused.

The archives library was completely empty except for the two of you. The sound of his boots against the spotless vinyl flooring filled the room as he was pacing back and forth. Clack-tap,  Clack-tap,  Clack-tap,  Clack-tap.  He found the rhythm weirdly gratifying. And he could see you didn't. If something could get you to lose your cool, what's not to love?

"Quit pacing," you sighed, slightly annoyed. He started to stomp on even louder. Clack-tap, Clack-TAP, CLACK-TAP,CLACK-TAP,CLACK-TAP.  Your breathing quivered with exasperation, as your shoulders hunched and fell in gliding motions. Just as gratifying, he thought looking at it.

"Quit pacing, Goddamnit!" You practically growled.

"No." He said, scrunching up a smile fighting it's way on his face. "What are you? obsessed? Mind your business," he shot smugly.

"You're making it really hard for me to, you moron," You muttered as he broke out into a grin. Annoying you practically counted as top-tier entertainment for him.

~

"C'mon man, do something," You cried.

"Do what?"

"Search for those godforsaken files, maybe. I honestly-"

"I am searching,"

"No, you're not." You huffed.

"I am, and I'm beginning to think the files are not in he-"

"Shhh" you cut him off. He shot you a questioning look.

"Don't you hear it?" you whisper-hissed.

"Hear what?" he asked as he reached for his weapons, falling into a defensive posture.

"There's somebody else in he-" before you could complete the sentence, you were screaming and everything was collapsing as you fell off the ladder yanking the racks down along with you, a daunting cacophony of heavy crashes and clamours deafening as you and Bucky were whipped by gravity, with absolutely no idea what is happening for a solid couple of moments.

"What the fuck just happened?" Bucky asked as he looked around, his pale blue eyes wide and gleaming with absolute confusion. The racks were all fallen, everything loosely covered with the papers lying around. The room had become a little darker. "I- um.." You started, "I... It was a cat.." you said frantically as you were still trying to shake yourself from the shock. "It was a what?" he asked incredulously. "A cat! I mean, It sort of jumped at my face, and I.. It sneaked up behind the rack... and I jumped and everything fell.. I guess..." You cringed at yourself. Bucky winced and looked around again and that's when he realized. You both were cornered against the inner edge of the wall. The racks had fallen in front of you into perfect forts, blocking your way out. He was practically stuffed against you into a crooked modicum of space. Your back was pressed against his chest, his leg pitted against yours. There wasn't a lot he could've done about that. He was trapped in there with you. But most importantly, he had never been this close to you.

His heart did parkours and cartwheels. He could only hope you don't feel how hard it was beating. Where were all these butterflies coming from? His breath hitched, he wasn't even sure if he was breathing anymore, although it was the last concern on his dumb-foundedly racing mind. He could feel the softness of your hair against his neck, he'd be lying if he said that wasn't the softest, gentlest thing he has felt in about the past seven decades. It smelled like an orchard of flowers. He liked flowers. Although he couldn't tell what flower it smelled like, he knew it would've been his favourite flower. It calmed him down, that was, of course until his eyes looked down. He could see the stretch of your dangerously gorgeous collar bones sparkling in your sweat above your dress's boat-like neckline. His atheism breaking at the sight of that sculpted divinity, he couldn't help but pray, "God give me all the strength you can to keep me from kissing that work of art." The quantum leaps between the intervals of his heartbeats weren't helping either. Oh, at this moment, what he wouldn't give up to be the brittle golden necklace cascading from the graceful steeps and lows of your neck to the flesh over your heart. He held back not of strength, but because of fear.

As he was trying to fathom where all these thoughts were coming from, he was interrupted by you glazing your body against his body as you were striving to reach for a way out of the current situation. The way you groaned softly as you tried to reach for the other side of the rack-fort did things to him that he never would have expected. He was practically petrified. You gave up after a few moments, your head falling back against his ribs due to the impact. "Oof," he said his breath tickling your neck, cooling the sweat enough to send chills down your spine. "I'm sorry," you quivered in embarrassment. "So... there's no way out unless someone helps us out from the outside," you reported. He sighed in reply. He was way too nervous right now to speak in words.

~

"Are you claustrophobic or something?" you asked.

"What?"

"No, your heart has been racing real loud for quite some time now."

"I.. um.. small spaces do that to me,"

"Huh" you huffed.

You felt the coolness of his metal arm against the heated skin below the back of your neck, it was very soothing. He had laid the forearm carefully at a distance from you, and you couldn't help but wish he would wrap it around you. You could feel the vibrations of his vocal cord against your ear lobe as he talked. You were glad he couldn't see your face flushing at that.

Eventually he was able to relax, his heart slowing down. Although the situation was still quite awkward, he was not sure if he was complaining. That's when he heard footsteps. Someone was coming to their rescue. The footsteps grew louder, and there he was.

"Noah!" You exclaimed as he stood in front of you on the other side of the rack-fort. "Y/n! What's.. going on?" Noah asked as he looked at the mess. "Ah, we're trapped. Can you help us out of here?"

~~~

"Thank you," you smiled as he got them out of there with the help of the floor service. "How did you find us here?"

"We had a date, remember? You didn't show up so I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh my god, yes we did. All this happened and It totally slipped my mind. Thank god, we did though," you chuckled, looking around,    "Hey Barnes, This is Noah, he works in the communications department,"

"Hey, man" Noah greeted. Bucky gave him a half-nod and a mean look.

~

"You know, it's not exactly late. If you are up to it, we could still go grab some dinner," Noah said, giving you this innocent look that Bucky, for some reason, found revolting.

"Yeah? of course," You were all smiles.

Since when does y/n smile like that? What did she see in this guy? He doesn't even know the guy, so why does he hate him so much? He felt displeased with himself for staring at you and Noah, like, why did he even care now? Bucky had so many questions. The answer was walking out of the hall with somebody else, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He was standing there in the once again empty library, lost in the middle of the bustling race track of his thoughts. That was when he felt something tugging at his legs, pulling him out of the maze he was being consumed by. He looked down at his little rescuer with fur as white as snow. "Hello there," He called, gentleness taking over his voice as he squatted down to pet the little cat that was rubbing its ears on his shoe straps. "Where did you come from, doll?" he giggled, scratching it's chin.

~ ( Today ) ~

"You were a no-show at the debriefing. Where were you yesterday?" You asked as you plopped down on the couch in the kitchen Island, your arm resting on the back pillow, turning your head back and looking at Bucky toying with the cutlery on the counter. "I.. was in my room," he said pushing back a stray lock of hair. "Coffee?"  "Yeah," you muttered.

As you turned your head you saw a little white cat hopping onto your lap.

"I found her in the library, you know, the other day.. after you left. Guess I'm her owner now, kind of," he said as he handed you the coffee.

"Aww, he made a friend!" You giggled as you scratched the back of the cat's ears. "Hello! Do you like that, you little troublemaker?" you chuckled as the cat warmed up to you with it's eyes closed.

Bucky was blushing like an idiot. You were not gonna lie, that shade of red made him look a little too cute.

"Has she got a name?"

"Yeah well, I named her Alpine. It's a good name, right?"

"Alpine!" you grinned, "It's a lovely name."

~~

"What?" He asked, as you gave him a surprised look after sipping your coffee.

"The coffee is actually good," You said.

"Why, you didn't think I could make good coffee?"

"No, in all these three years, you've brought me coffee like 4 times, 3 out of which you put salt in my coffee and the one time you messed up the sugar real bad. On purpose, I suppose," you accused.

"To be fair, you deserved it,"

"Ah, there it is," you said.

Bucky couldn't help but stare at you. Here he was, sitting on the couch beside you, getting high of sorts on how close he was to you. He had been craving for it ever since the archive library. He locked himself in his room all yesterday, convincing himself that what he felt towards you wasn't real, although it only made more sense despite his inability to believe it. And here you were now, recklessly playing with his heartstrings. The image of a rogue strand of your hair caressing your temple, and your eyes becoming a softer shade of (y/e/c) as the sunlight fell on them vaporized the levee he built around the feelings he never thought would see the light of day again.

As if breaking him out of his trance, you said, "Ah, I'd love to hang around with you guys, but I gotta go. I said I'll be meeting Noah in a couple minutes."

"Right," he could feel his heart dropping for a second.

"Alright then... bye!" You called, and walked out of the room, as he watched your hair swaying to your stride.

And here he was, on the couch, wondering about what just happened. Alpine half asleep on his lap as he unconsciously whispered, "How did this happen?"

~~~~

#bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #winter solider #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #self insert #alpine #falling in love #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky x y/n #x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky barns imagine #bucky imagine #cat #bucky oneshot

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

#Writing #The friendly neighborhood exchange #WHOOO #irondad and spiderson #I love them #platonic soulmates

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 20 FINALE (Jason Todd x Reader)

*sobs

I can’t believe I finished this fucking thing. And I couldn’t be happier of the outcome. I already sent out my thanks in my last post. So without further delay, here’s the finale of I Don’t Hate You <3

also, I’d like to thank @idkmanicantenglish for the song “Half a Man” which really is all about Jason.

WORDS: 13,753 (the most I’ve written in a single day) WARNINGS: EVERYTHING. FLUFF. SMUT. ANGST. VIOLENCE. A WHOLE LOT OF EVERYTHING. 

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

------

This was your story.

Your heart-wrenching, exhausting, shitty, beautiful little story.

A story you’ve told only so much, but when told, it lets you relive the most memorable moments as the words flow right out of you. A story about the last few years that have been more eventful than any other year there was. A story, when given the chance, changed you so much, changed everyone involved.

And it all began and ended in a damned library.

Maybe you’d tell it again someday. Not to some therapist you barely know or a few friends who’d already heard about it from other people. But maybe you can tell it to the person you’ll eventually spend the rest of your life with. To the kids you’ll ultimately have and love. It’s a story about you and a boy named Jason Todd, and how you both changed so much for each other over the course of a few years. Telling it in a way that makes it a happy memory you were glad to live through might change how you thought about it, or how you’ll deal with it after it all ends.

But Jason, your Jason.

You were always going to love him. You were always going to miss him. He will always be the love of your life.

And even with the end so near, you set that aside. Because an end can be the most beautiful when you don’t treat it like one. It can be the best when you treat it like any other day, think about it as if it were to happen again tomorrow. Only then can you fully live through it as a memory you’ll want to relive over and over. When the emotions are genuine and all other thoughts are put aside.

That night, your last night with Jason, it was like the last three years never happened.

It had been so long since you lived through an instant of gaiety and your highest spirits without a single thought of how reality had been so hard on you, so long since you could live without despondency waiting for you outside your door to take you back to where you were supposed to be. It was that night.

The sun had long gone, and not wanting any attention from the outside or the night guards, the library had its lights shut off, door locked from the inside. And once you did, you and Jason, you were transported back to your junior year, your first few weeks at work when it was all bickering fun and laugher.

You sat cross-legged inside the cart, piles of books littered around you in a mess. “This goes to the sciences section.”

“I know. It’s here.”

“No, we moved it all the way to the front. In the new shelves.”

You leaned to the back of the cart, and your neck rested right against Jason’s arm, his nose meeting your hair. “I hate this new arrangement.”

Holding your phone’s flashlight with your one hand and the textbook with the other, you lit up the way as Jason pushed the cart through the long, narrow aisle.

The metal nets under your jeans were starting to imprint on your skin. You’ve been at this for so long, arranging and re-arranging the whole place even when you didn’t need to. And you let it settle. You kept looking up, where you could see his eyes staring at you like you were as beautiful as the moon. When you reached the shelf, you gave it to Jason, who put it right into its place between two old books.

He kept pushing you around, and you loved it especially when your squeals and light screams coming from your churning stomach filled the whole room, when Jason pushed you fast into a long aisle and you’ll feel the rumbling of the cart and the wheel almost falling off. His new strength pushed you farther and faster with so much more ease.

Standing at the far-off end at the main aisle, which faced the longest clear distance all the way to the other side of the room, Jason placed a light kiss on the tip of your forehead. “Hold on.”

“Go!”

You grabbed onto the bars with your sweaty fists, looked straight forward, then you felt the cool, magnificent rush of cold air blowing into your face, your hair, the clothes on your back. Jason laughed along with you as you howled, then you held your arms up, eyes closed. “WOOOOO!”

He stopped just before you hit the wall. Then he walked over to you. “You could have fallen over!”

“That was amazing!” Your outstretched arms started reaching for his neck, standing on your knees in the cart. You were closer to his height now, which made it easier to kiss him. He held your waist and practically stuck his tongue down your throat. “Mmm!” you giggled, and he bit your lip before pulling away.

He walked to the back of the cart then turned it around, without warning, then started pushing you back into that direction. “Again!”

Jason screamed into your ear to match your voice, then pushed you all the way back. “I’ll fucking run.”

“Do it,” you growled.

Jason bent his knees, and with you closing your eyes, he pushed the cart faster than a car would run. You screamed until your lungs gave out, your head in a flying daze. And you looked out. You could see the wind, the books going past you.

Nothing but laughter. Nothing but bliss.

BAM!

“FUCK!”

The front left wheel of the cart, that one wheel that had been all squeaky and insufferable for the last four years of your life, finally gave out on its tiny life on a string and popped out of its socket. The cart started to drift off, then tumbled down to the floor on its side. You were thrown to the ground with it. “SHIT!”

Jason would have helped you up if he wasn’t already on the floor, clutching his own stomach in uncontrollable laugher. You rubbed the side of your shoulder. “NOT FUCKING FUNNY!”

You were on your knees, growling, and Jason still kept laughing already lying on his back, crouched over to hold onto his aching stomach. You crawled over to him and started grabbing his arms. “Jackass!”

He laughed at your face, and no matter how much strength you had you couldn’t pull his arms away, so you threw yourself on top of him, crossed over so your back hit his stomach. “FUCK, your heavy.”

“Stop laughing.”

He snickered, then he started reaching for your shoulders, turning you over to face him. You laid on your stomach, splayed out on his side, and you kept laughing even when he’d pulled you into his lips again. Your arms went under his head and he pulled your body so you were laying on top of him. Wrestling, licking, feeling his lips. His course, yet soft lips. You could feel him smile and groan against you.

“Come on. We have to fix this thing.”

“What?”

Jason pecked your lips and stood up, pulling you to stand. You started dusting off your ass from the lint on the ground and he could help but slap it hard. “FUCKing hell, Jay.”

He chuckled. “Come on. You have any tools here?”

“I think Ms. P has something stashed in her desk.”

Jason started pulling the cart back up, balancing it against the table to stand upright. He went around to look for the wheel, and you fiddled around Ms. Peterson’s desk. At the bottommost shelf, you found the tools you needed. “Well, would you look at that?”

“Nice. Come on.”

You settled on the ground. And he held out the wheel to give it to you. “This little fucker’s been biting me in the ass.”

“I know. I remember.”

He took out the screws and a screwdriver. “I think we just have to screw it back in.”

“Go ahead.”

Jay started to work, placing the wheel where it was supposed to be and held out the screw into the hole, turning over the screwdriver. You laid your head on his shoulder.

“It’s the wrong size.”

“She doesn’t have anything else?”

“This is the smallest one,” Jason threw it to the ground. “What do we do?”

“Well,” you nuzzled into his neck. “We can go out to the supply closet and get more tools.”

“And the guards?”

You smiled. “We’ll have to be really, really quiet.”

Jason pulled your chin and kissed you. “You mean you have to be quiet. I do this for a living.”

You pinched his cheek, then stood up and walked over to unlock the library doors. You peered outside.

“No one’s out.”

“Just be quiet.”

You got out, closed the door behind you, then Jason held your hand as you led the way. “Man, I miss this place.”

You swore you saw the him from three years ago when you looked back, in the school halls holding your hand. “Y/N!”

“What?”

He suddenly pulled you into a corner, and when you looked out, you saw the security guard sitting right by the backdoor to the field. “Shit.”

“It’s over this way. Come on. Just be careful.”

You tiptoed out until you found the place. The supply closet. The same one you hid from Ms. Peterson from that one time. When you went inside, Jason grabbed your face and started kissing you. You held onto his arms, squeezed, then giggled when he pulled away. “We should have made out here more often.”

“I know,” he winked. “Looks cozy.”

Then he pushed you against the wall, you grabbing his hair. And you stayed there kissing probably for half an hour, completely ignoring the fact that someone could have possibly walked in. “Jay,” you smiled. “The screws.”

“Oh yeah.”

He got the tools he needed, then with him leading the way, you made sure to walk past the snoring guard with you walking on your toes. You almost slipped, but Jason kept you up, putting his finger on his mouth.

Then you rushed back inside the library, fixed the wheel on the cart. When he finished, he basically pushed you on the ground and started attacking your face with his lips.

Oh god, you’ve never been so happy.

“Let’s put these all back.”

You placed the books back in the cart, one by one. “What time is it?”

11 pm. You shrugged. “We have the whole night.”

Jason finished placing the books back into the cart, then you held onto the front of the bars as he maneuvered around, placing them onto the shelves.

“Look. Braille books. A lot of them.”

“Yeah, it goes all the way up there, remember?”

You followed him walking over to the place bringing the cart, looking up. He could have reached it by himself now, especially since he was practically as tall as the fucking shelves.

“Get on my back.”

“The fuck you wanna do now, Todd?”

“Just put your legs on my shoulders.”

He crouched over, and while you laughed it off, struggling to swing your legs over when he was so big, you held onto his head as he stood up with ease. “Can you reach it now?”

“Unnecessarily so.”

He gave you the books one by one, and you could reach the top most shelf that was almost to the ceiling. You could touch it with your finger. His grip on your legs was so strong that you couldn’t have fallen over even if you weren’t careful. You placed the books, laughing the whole time, then Jason leaned back down you could get off of him.

“Why didn’t we do that before?”

“You wouldn’t have let me.”

“I would have.”

“You remember almost biting my arms off just by carrying you up?”

He pulled you by the waist, and you turned him around so you could push him against the shelf. “I remember what this aisle was for…”

“Oh,” he winked. “Why don’t we serve its purpose?”

You tangled your fingers into his hair, and his on your waist, then you kissed him so breathlessly hard that you would’ve fallen over just by his strength pushing you back.

Yes. You had him back. Even for just a moment. There wasn’t a trace of cold blood in him. All you felt was the warmth of the soft-hearted, selfless boy you loved. You were grinning the whole time you kissed, then Jason flipped you over so you were against the books.

His lips, even when slow, pressed against you with so much desire, his breaths, his teeth biting into your mouth, you held onto the shelf to keep yourself up.

This was your story. This was the ending you never thought you’d have. Kissing, having him for yourself, never will anything be so perfect as the way he held you, grabbing your legs so they’d wrap around his hips.

You’re always going to love him, for as long as you were sane and capable of love. Nothing, no one can replace Jason Todd in your heart.

He placed you on the table, and with your giggles not so easily concealed, you rocked about on the surface, kissing you so sweet and soft. Jason held your face and started kissing every inch of your face. You smiled.

“Not here, you idiot.”

He scoffed. “I know.”

But he kept going anyway.

You will never, ever, going to forget how strong he was when he holds you, how gentle his lips could be when he holds back from practically devouring your face. How his hunger mixed with his selfless sweetness, how he was so beautiful, the most human person you’ve ever come to know.

He pulled your waist up and ran his hands all over you. You did the same. And it was all without a thought of how things were going to be when you wake up the next morning. You lived in it, pretended it was going to go on forever. And you wanted it to. So desperately.

“I love you,” he said into your ear.

Then you pulled him into your arms, felt his chest squeezed against yours, then you inhaled into his neck. “I love you.”

He kissed you again, a lot slower this time, and his hands started trailing up your body.

Something was out the door.

Voices. More than one.

“Fuck.” Jason got off you and you stood up from the table. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Hide!”

Two night guards unlocked the library door.

“No one breaks into a library, Jeff.”

“Well, I fucking heard something just now.”

“Check the shelves.”

You held tightly onto Jason’s hand. You weren’t nervous. But you definitely didn’t want to get reprimanded by these two and lose your job. You and Jason hid beneath Ms. Peterson’s desk, and you swore you heard one of them peer in from the other side.

“You think this place haunted?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Well, I don’t see nothin’”

You looked over at Jason, then bit your lips back from laughing. He was barely able to fit under the desk, and you took note of just how adorable he looked making himself as compact as you could. He squinted at you and you silently snickered.

The voices got lower. They must have been all the way over the farthest shelves. You slowly crawled out, peeked over the table.

“Nothin’,” you heard one of the voices say. He was out of sight.

You motioned for Jason to get out. He crawled into the floor, held your hand, then surveyed the room for the quickest way out the door.

“Ey look, Jeff. Old magazines.”

“You think they got porn in there?”

On your toes, you and Jason walked out of there without a single sound.

You bit back your smile, and even with the moment so quick, you took one last look at the library, smiling. “Come on.”

You started racing out the door, out into the warm, summer night. It wasn’t so late, and you barely felt tired at all. Jason walked you out into the driveway.

When you got to your car, opening the door for you, you pulled Jason back into your arms, hands on his waist, then kissed him.

Even when he got into the car, you continued to kiss him. Even when he drove. Even when you felt your lips numb. You kept kissing his cheek and neck and basically everywhere you could, never mind how it could’ve possible ended badly. Jason drove around the city, taking a lot longer than he should. And you loved it.

It couldn’t end. Not yet. You still didn’t want it to.

But even after hours and hours on end, driving around without a destination and singing in the car, windows open for the world to hear, it ultimately had to. You went around the empty Gotham streets, basked in the silence like it was made specially for you. You sang all the songs in your playlist and Jason never hesitated to sing along with you, no matter how much his voice was drowned out by yours.

But in the end, when you saw the time on the car’s dashboard, when you felt the world tapping onto your shoulder, telling you that time was up, you couldn’t believe it.

And when you did,

The whole world sank with your heart.

Jason felt the same. He looked out the windshield, eyes drooped down and his breaths long and uneasy.

You felt it. The end. This was how it ends.

Your story with Jason.

He got out of the car, then you waited so he could open your door for you. He moved so slow, and so did you. Time had to stop. For you.

When he closed it behind you, taking your hand as he took you to your apartment, you felt his hold tighten, fingers rubbing into your skin.

You leaned close to him and placed your head on his shoulder.

Too soon. It was all moving too fast.

He turned to face you, holding your face.

Without even your knowing, a tear had fallen down your cheek.

And he wiped it away with his thumb, forcing himself to smile despite the inevitable staring at him in the face. Your chest was being hallowed out, by a shovel ruthlessly going at it with every bit of your raging thoughts, though silent, it was tearing you part by part.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to say goodbye. For good this time. And you didn’t want all this to stay behind as a memory. Jason placed his forehead tight against yours.

And you breathed him in. You took him in. You felt his eyelashes tickle your lids, felt his hands hold yours and step so close to you, you could feel his heartbeat.

And it finally came. The end.

He kissed you on the lips, so soft, softer than he ever kissed you before. You took note of how his lips felt, how his body was leaning towards you like it wanted you even more.

You heard soft, singing melodies somewhere in the air. And the whole world did stop for you this time. You couldn’t hear a sound. No one was around. And if there were you could have sworn they had frozen in place. You pulled him closer. You never loved him so much as you did at that moment.

And you wanted him. So bad.

No. This wasn’t the end. Not yet.

If this was goodbye, you were going to do it right.

You felt his lips get rougher, hungrier, and yours were, too. His hands held your face so tightly that you swore you’d break in his hold.

You wanted this.

You pulled away, and Jason knew what for.

You held his hand, never leaving his eyes.

And he followed you up the steps.

You unlocked the door with your free hand, taking him to your home. He shut the door behind him, trailing behind you down the hall, to the living room, and eventually up to your room.

You turned on one, dim light, and even then you could barely see much around you. Jason held your hand as you closed the door.

Silence. Deep, comfortable silence.

Jason held your face and pushed you against the wall.

Just once. Just one time. You wanted this so bad. Even if it wouldn’t last, you wanted it just once. And you’ll be able to tell yourself that you can move on without any more regrets. You had him for just one more night. And he’ll be gone in the morning. You wanted the most out of it. You wanted to feel every part of him, know that this was how it was going to end. And there was nothing else holding you back. Not even if you’d let it.

It didn’t take long for it to feel hot, heavier, and when you felt his weight against you, pushing you so tightly against the wall, that you were barely able to move. Your arms on his neck, he pulled you up, let your legs wrap around him, then he left his love all over your skin, marks and bruises by his teeth, all over your neck, jaw, and the top of your chest. He was so strong, so effortlessly pulling you up, you squeezed his bicep.

Then he moved you over to your desk, his arm swiftly swiping all your stuff from the surface so he could place you on top.

Yes.

He took his sweet time. You weren’t going to rush this. No. You wanted him all the way until morning. You weren’t going to let a single second pass where you weren’t conscious enough to feel him, see him. You started pulling at his shirt, but he got so distracted by your neck, sucking into your flesh so painfully good that you gasped. You were leaning back, since he was pushing you with his weight, back almost hitting the surface, but you kept yourself sitting up.

More. Harder.

You pulled on his hair, pulling so tightly to ease yourself from the pain of his teeth, then he winced away, going back to kiss your lips. you sat straight up, pulling up the hem of his shirt.

And when he pulled on the back, practically ripping it off his body, you moaned as if he were already fucking you.

“Fuck…”

He held your hands, let your palms feel every inch of his gorgeous chest.

Fuck.

He was so much bigger, as if it wasn’t already obvious with his clothes on. But without them, he looked like he was fucking photoshopped.

Rock-hard muscle, on his pecs, his stomach… God, his stomach. You wanted your tongue all over his eight-pack. Not even porn had this kind of beauty. And he kept watching you, how your face reacted at the sight of him. And if he could see it, he’d say your jaw was definitely flat on the floor. His abdomen, his sides, his abs… everything was as hard as a fucking wall. You started placing your lips on them.

Scars. Beautiful, sexy scars, all over his skin. The largest one was a deep, Y shaped one in the middle of his chest.

From his autopsy.

And when he saw you kiss over them, he started to pull away.

And you held his hand, placed kisses on his lips, silently reassuring him that he was undeniably beautiful, just as he would in anyone’s eyes. When he softened up, you went back to kissing his pecs, his abs, every surface of his skin.

Then he groaned when your tongue lapped up the middle of his chest, all the way down his abdomen.

He looked like he was going to pounce at you like a panther now.

Jason grabbed your face, held you up so he could bite into your lips, causing you with so much pleasurable pain until you could feel your lips start to bleed.

He pulled your shirt up, his hands not wasting another minute without squeezing every part of your skin. He kneaded your breasts, kissed over your chest and setting your bra down so he could taste your nipples. You leaned back, weight on your hands, then moaned when he started kissing down your stomach.

Jason undid your jeans and ripped them off your legs, taking off your panties along with them. You gasped at the exposure. You hadn’t had sex in… well, you didn’t like to think about it. So you were horribly wet, drenching your table even when he hadn’t even touched you there yet. “Fuck…”

“Shh,” he whispered.

You started gripping on his hair, tugging, an outlet for when he started biting into the thin skin on your inner thighs. And he blew into your soaked pussy, warm air grazing your clit. “Oh!”

He kept at it, leaving marks all over where he could touch except your cunt. And you wanted him there so bad. You wanted his tongue all over your inside, feel him wander around so intimately and hit that spot only he could touch. You pulled on him again and didn’t stop until he was kissing your pussy.

“Fuck, look how wet you are…”

And before he did that, he suddenly grabbed your hips and flipped you around.

Your feet now on the ground, you bent over, your wetness now dripping down your legs. You felt his hand on your back, lightly pushing you down, then you placed your weight on your elbows, forehead touching the table’s surface. Jason got on his knees, then without a warning, lapped over your throbbing cunt with his long tongue. You moaned.

He started spreading your legs. You wanted him to use his fingers, too, but that was to say his tongue wasn’t already enough to send you quaking. You held onto the sides of the table, ass pushed out and his hands grabbing onto your hips. His grip was tight, and the way his fingers were sinking into your flesh, how it went so well with how his tongue inserted itself into your hole, you gasped out his name along with other, wordless cries. He went down your clit, slowly ran his wet tongue all over it in circles and different directions. You were shaking, and the wonderfully delicious buzzing down your legs was almost too much. You pushed yourself further back.

Jason held your stomach, and you threw your head back, breathing so heavy and broken. His tongue kept at it with your clit, then back into your hole, then you squealed when he momentarily went over your asshole before licking your folds again. Fuck.

“Jay…” you cried, then a sharp slap on your ass jolted up your spine. His tongue quickened all over you. and you felt it creep up to you like an animalistic predator. The tensing of your muscles, your arms starting to give out along with your legs. Your mouth formed an ‘O’ and you screamed his name as your first, powerful orgasm washed over you. It was crushing, your every limb trembling at the slightest touch. You felt your skin burn through your cries and your head in a wonderful spiral.

Jason led you through it, made sure he was holding you tight before you’ll fall to the floor, and your cries, you let it bounce through the walls, his name so wonderfully screamed out, it was beautiful.

He let his hand reach down your pussy, massaging the outside to calm you. And before your high had subsided, you turned around, pulled him close in your arms.

You led him to your bed, pushed him down, with your one hand. Then you took your bra off, throwing it across the room. Jason leaned in towards you drooling at the sight of your tits. And you let him have what he wanted before pulling him away.

Your hands on his crotch, you felt his bulge.

Fuck.

He couldn’t possibly…

You felt more of him, rubbing over his length that seemed to go on and on…

Yes…

You pulled away from him so you could take his pants off, along with his boxers, he groaned when his dick shot up and hit his stomach.

Fuck, your pussy already started to hurt just at the sight of that-

“Jay, how-“

“The pit,” he winked at you. “Made a lot of things bigger.”

You kneeled down in front of him, taking him in your hand and drooling over the sight of him. He was so fucking huge now. It could barely fit in your hand.

And for the love of god, his fucking thighs.

“Y/N…”

“I want you in my mouth,” you demanded.

You pushed him to lay on his back, then he inched himself further up so you could kneel on the bed, crouch over so you could lick all way up from his balls to the tip of his cock.

Jason threw his head against the mattress, gripping his own hair and his hand trailing up his chest.

You took his tip in, swirling your tongue all over him. You felt him twitch and that’s when you held the bottom half with your hand. You went back and forth, mouth hallowed out as he hit the back of your throat while you pumped the rest of him with your wet palms. Your other hand kept holding onto his thigh, nail sinking in to his flesh.

“Fuck,” he groaned. Then you released his cock with a pop in your mouth, before going at it again. Your tongue went crazy over his hard, sensitive tip, licking the underside the way he liked it. After all those years you still memorized his body, no matter how much it changed. You kept going, pulling out to spit at him, then tried with all your might to sink him down all the way past your throat, blocking your airways and letting you gag repeatedly. He held your head down, then when you pulled away, mouth drenched in your drool mixed with pre-cum, you gasped for air and swallowed.

“Y/N,” he pulled on your hair, then you sucked on his tip again, opening your mouth wide until your jaw started to hurt, then you pulled your head back and forth, over and over until he started to tense, twitch. Not long after, Jason came inside your mouth.

Your hand kept pumping, and your tongue was held out to catch his seed. He kept going, moaning and squirming on the bed. You swallowed everything you could and kissed the tip.

“Come here,” he growled, just when you thought he might have passed out. He aggressively held your body up so your chest was pressing flat against him. You held his face, kissed him and letting your juices and his cum mix in your mouths, you both moaned.

You started leaning back, and just when you thought you’d grind on his cock,

You grinded on his thigh.

And fucking hell, the muscles, the ripples, how it tore through you in a sensation you never felt before. Your already quaking pussy was sensitive to touch, but now it was a wonder, mind-blowingly pleasurable experience that just couldn’t get you to stop. His tongue slightly seeping out his lips, he took in the sight of you.

“Fuck, you're hot.”

You ignored him and threw your head back. You gripped on your own tits, focused on the friction. His thighs were so large you still had to spread your legs wide. You kept going, going and going.

Then, without you even expecting it, another powerful orgasm ripped through you. You held onto Jason’s chest, and him growing hard again just watching you use his thighs to pleasure yourself. You were shaking, screaming into the air, then Jason didn’t waste a minute before grabbed you by the waist, suddenly flipping you over so your back was against his chest. You were lying on top of him, and on your ass, you felt his hardening cock.

You threw your head back onto his shoulder. Your bodies felt one again. Just like it used to. And with his breath against your ear, you cried at the stings on your skin when his warm fingers traced all over your body. he touched you, all of you. And all you could do was lie on your back, feel his lips on your cheek, feel his chest on your ass while he squeezed your tits so hard you screamed.

Then his other hand went down, to your over-stimulated pussy. He whispered into your ear. Your name. his thoughts. Everything he wanted to do to you. and your eyes went over the back of your head when his fingers inserted inside you, moving around your walls. He squeezed your other breast tighter to go along with it, and when it was so hard, you started to cum again, you held it back.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” you screamed, and he bit onto your ear. You spread your legs wide in the air and let his middle and ring finger pound into you so hard and fast. You heard wet, slapping noises, and the way his long fingers went inside you, ticking your clit with his palm, Jason kept massaging your upper body so gently, immensely contrasting his roughness on your cunt.

“Fuuuuck!!!” you screamed, and your legs were shaking when you came for the third time that night. Each one a different sensation than the other. This one came fast, one strong, powerful surge that went with the pain of his hand so ruthlessly bruising you up. You had to reach down, hold his wrist from going any further just because you couldn’t take it anymore. “Jay -“

“Shh.”

Fuck. The way he shushed you, sent all the nerves in a spiral all over again.

You turned around, and he flipped you over on your back, hovering on top of you. “What do you want me to do?”

You gasped when his cock went over your folds. “Fuck me…”

“Mmm,” he hummed into your ear, kissing your cheek, your neck, then he was back on your lips. He took the time to do that, making sure you were ready for him.

“Please… oh!”

His cock, so large, tore through you so slowly, making sure you felt every bit of him stretch you out to your full capacity. And even when he wasn’t fully inside, he stopped. You were so tight around him you could feel it. You couldn’t even clench. But even with the pain so immense, you pushed on his back to make him go forward.

He sat back so he could look at all of you. nipples hard in the air, back arched so much that it went with the curve of his cock. Your skin was red and flushed, and every touch on you seemed to make your spine jolt. You held yourself up with your elbows, looking at him with that hooded glare that sent his lustful demons rising.

He held your waist, watching his dick go further and further inside you. You screamed so loud at the pain, even when he was so careful with it. But you loved it. Every part of it. Jason dicked you down balls deep, and stayed there while watching your body thrash about.

“Jason, fuck me, please…”

He held your waist, pull you up so the top of your head was the only thing touching the mattress, then started pulling your body back and forth.

Fuck. Your walls, how you adjusted so roughly around him it made you hiss, yet after so many of his long, hard strokes, it built up that wonderful, rhythmic, deep electricity sparked back that one spot he was so expertly thrusting into.

It was slow at first, but when you started gripping onto his arm, he took it as a pass to suddenly snap his hips up to you and bruise your ass. “FUCK!”

Jason kept at it, then you held his neck, squeezing it to ease the over-whelming shocks, and he rocked your body back and forth, letting you back arch so much. Over and over. He wouldn’t stop. And you saw different colored lights flash before your eyes, shutting them close to stop yourself from passing out. The feel of his cock, and the buzz it went with…

It wasn’t even about the orgasm. You were one with him. You always had been.

You didn’t care if you came. For how many times that night. You focused on him. On his love. His touch. His beautiful, lustful love that was as endless as it seemed.

He was yours. Not just for that night.

Jason will always be yours.

Always.

And that was how you wanted your story with him to end.

----

Soft.

Sultry.

It was an otherwise beautiful morning.

Every minute, you could feel it pass.

So slowly, like silent, steady drum beating.

You didn’t let yourself fall asleep. All night, you were in his arms. You let the night pass without your conscious mind missing a second of it. He didn’t sleep either.

And when the sun had come, telling you both that it was time,

That was when he let it dawn over him.

This was goodbye.

Time was ticking. Staying longer would only make things so much more difficult.

He kissed your shoulder, and even when his arms wouldn’t have let you, you pulled back. The way you looked at him, the hurt he could just see, he wanted to beat himself up over it. He wished this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

But the longer he looked into you, he made sure to memorize each and every detail of your face.

You closed your eyes, and he wiped the tear that seeped through them.

Jason, with all his strength that was already so immense, struggled, but forced himself to let you go.

And you stayed on the bed, eyes on the sheets. He didn’t want you to watch him leave. You turned over your back.

And it made it easier for him to put his clothes back on. As slowly as he could. Fuck, every movement hurt.

When he pulled his shirt over his head, he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall.

You had put on your shirt and panties as well, also sitting at the other side of the bed.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Not anything that was only going to hurt more.

But by god, he was thankful he came back. At least now, for you and him both, you said your goodbyes the best way he could. He’ll no longer have any regrets. He’ll no longer wish he did things differently when obviously he should’ve from the start.

Jason stood from the bed, slowly walked over to the door.

You probably didn’t want to voice out your goodbyes. You were still on the bed, clutching on the sheets. And when you caught his eye, you looked away.

Jason could have run back to your arms, tell you he was wrong, that he wasn’t going away, then you’ll go back to make love all day just as you would for the rest of your days.

That was always going to be the fantasy of what he could have done. Maybe even what he should have done.

But he didn’t.

He opened the door, slowly walked out of it and closed it behind him.

Jason was just about to walk out of your front door when he heard your voice. “Wait!”

He looked back.

You raced to him, and you were holding something in your hand. A book.

Edgar Allan Poe’s Complete Collection of Stories

“You have it back,” you sniffed. “Please.”

Jason looked at your hands, mouth open, then he felt a tear on his eyes blur out his image of you, looking at him like he was just the whole world. He shook his head.

“Keep it.”

You bit your lips, then looked down at your feet. You set it on the table aside and wiped a tear from your face.

“Goodby-“

He pulled you to his chest, so tightly and suddenly, you gasped when your mouth met his shoulder. Then he felt your tear wet his shirt. He pulled you even closer, face into your hair. His own tear had fallen, and he let the feel of you loosen the tightening in his chest.

You pulled him just as tight. Just as close.

He didn’t know for how long, but you were in his arms for so long. It might have been just a minute. Or even an hour.

But he knew, the moment he walked out the door, that he made the greatest mistake of his life.

.

The sobs fell when Jason walked out. Your heart on the floor. Your whole body on the floor. Your back hit the door and you sobbed into your knees.

.

How many times has he left you? How many times does he have to screw you over for him to know you didn’t deserve any of this? Jason tried walking down the steps, but his legs felt weak. He sat on the steps and didn’t care if people around him saw him cry.

.

You tugged at your chest. Even though it hurt. Even when it was inevitable, you thanked the world. For giving you just a few more days with him. You thanked the cosmos from bringing him back. Even when it wasn’t meant to last.

.

As much as he wanted to hate everything, lash out on anything he could get his hands on, he didn’t. In fact, he knew those last days with you, those beautiful last days, will go on until the end of his life.

.

You once heard. If someone was really meant for you, you will end up together. If that someone was Jason, you’ll have to embrace that new side of you that let the world take control. You sat back, hoping it would eventually change. Even when it seems impossible.

.

Jason walked home.

.

You went back to your room.

.

He fell to his bed.

.

You tried to go to sleep.

.

But he couldn’t. Not for the next days.

.

You loved him even more than you ever had.

.

This couldn’t possibly be the end.

.

Why didn’t it feel like an end?

.

He wished you’ll be okay.

.

You hoped for the best.

.

‘Goodbye, Y/N.’

.

‘Goodbye, Jason.’

-----

-----

1 MONTH

He had the money. He could manage this.

But not working for this long was eventually going to take a toll on him.

Okay. He shouldn’t call it work. Even when it technically was. He was earning money through all those drug rings he’d held hostage and now that he’d been stuck in his home for the last month, he didn’t even know what his goons were up to. 

Jason woke up two hours past noon that day, just like he always had. Slowly, he swung his legs over the bed and blinked away the crust in his eyes. He stretched, feeling the warm morning sun in his skin. Then he walked over to the kitchen to make himself some toast.

It had been a month.

And still, he barely wanted to do anything.

No, it wasn’t like the first time you broke up. When his ass starved himself in bed, tore everything around in his room and let his anger take over all his sanity to the point where he left his room destroyed, his bed constantly soaked in his tears, his cries of anger, his eventual plunge into darkness. No, it wasn’t that anymore.

Because he wasn’t angry anymore.

Not at you. not at himself. How could he? He was the one who wanted this. He beat himself up over that so much that at this point he’d grown tired. Now, he was tired. So tired.

His toast popped up the toaster and he grabbed it, took a large bite out of it without anything else.

He got home, calm and silent. And every day that had passed, he never threw anything against the wall, he never starved himself, punished himself by constantly staring at your photos and remembering all your moments he was never going to relive.

He didn’t do anything to hurt himself anymore.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t just as hurt.

He cries at night. Often all the time. Until eventually his eyes grow tired and he was left asleep in his own tears. Jason let himself remember you, but no longer with any other feeling than greatness, appreciation, sweet, serene thoughts when he looked back.

Of course, it wasn’t without tears. All the time. There were tears.

He sat on his couch, leaned back, and let himself delve into the loneliness that was reality.

He really fucking missed you.

He still, with all his heart, loved you.

You never once called, and he never once reached out. He stayed true to his promise. He felt the pain he’d already expected. Jason wasn’t angry because all this was his choice, for your own good. He stayed on that couch for the rest of the day.

He didn’t fight off his thoughts anymore. Every image of you, he let it play in his head. He didn’t let the emptiness take over like last time. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t hurt. He didn’t pretend that each day went on and he had no control over it. He let each day pass, welcomed it with open arms. He felt every inch of that pain pass through every inch of him. All this, it was happening.

You. He had no idea what you were doing. He could only hope you were doing okay. Not like him.

That night, he went out, hoodie over his head.

And he went over to a bar. Alone. He ordered a drink. He went through the glass before anyone could bat an eye. He ordered another.

A girl took a seat next to him, and he let himself take his attention to her. She smiled at him, then she started talking. He didn’t exactly listen to what she said. He just kept nodding and smiling when he could.

He let her take him to her apartment, and he pushed her against the wall. What was her name again?

He grabbed her thigh, let her bite his neck. He fucked her in her bed, her screaming his name and kissing him all night. He just let everything happen. He pushed all thoughts aside. Or at least, this was what he did to try. He came and stopped right after.

Jason waited for her to fall asleep. And when she did, he grabbed his clothes and walked out of her apartment without so much as a text.

When he got back to his place, taking another drink from his stash and taking it to bed with him, he laid his head against the wall.

Nothing. Nothing changed.

He could have thrown that bottle across the room, let it break and not clean it up until the next few days. But instead, he just let a tear down his cheek.

You were still there. In his head.

Jason looked at the duffel bag in the corner, where his helmet and jacket had been sitting lifelessly for the past month.

That night, Red Hood stopped five muggers and two rapists from all over crime alley.

-----

2 MONTHS

‘I call out into the open,

Hoping for some reason,

That whatever there is, and always will be,

Was for the better

 That all this sacrifice.

Wasn’t for no reason.

That you were right, in fact,

And eventually…

I’ll see why you no longer wanted me…’

.

You scratched out those last two words. It didn’t feel right. He still wanted you. You don’t know how he was feeling right now, but you were sure he still loved you at the end.

You hated how writing songs just felt so much easier when you were depressed. Maybe because you needed to feel strong emotions that had to take over you and drive you into that creative spiral. It was messed up, but you let it happen.

The empty music room helped, but you wore your earphones with your piano chords on repeat just to drown out the noises of students outside the door.

.

‘I’ll see why you let go of me…’

.

That’s better.

.

‘I promised you I’m fine.

That all of this was for you.

You are everything I wish to be and

The light that shines through

All the darkness…

No matter how much they try

To get their hands on me…

Even though you’re not here,

I’m always going to be yours…’

.

You took out your earphones, then started playing a tune, breaking the chords apart in that certain melody you had going on in your head. When you got it, you started singing the lyrics you just wrote.

You kept singing, pretending he was standing by the door, watching you play and sing with his heart in his hand, clutched tightly and his face all goofy and red. You stopped for a moment, going back to the last line, then you went on.

Okay. Good. That was good.

.

‘Your dreams of me

I hope they are good to you,

No longer feeding you the pain

That I can feel every time

I think of us. Of what could have been.

 I dream of you,

Every night, I do and I let them happen

Even when reality surges

Like a hit to the head

And it hurts so much…

Oh…

But I’ll go through that,

As long as I see you

At night.’

.

You placed your pen down and went to the piano, playing them out. After a while, revising the way the chords played out, you hit record and started from the beginning.

He was there. Smiling. And you closed your eyes pretending that he actually was.

You never realized all the songs you wrote were all about him, especially the ones that got the highest marks.

You even once wrote a song about sex. With him, obviously. And the thought of it made you blush. You were never going to pass that.

When you looked back, at the park, at the carnival, at the library, the ideas just wouldn’t stop flowing through you. It was sadness, but it had that little painful jab of acceptance lodged in your chest. You were no longer in mourning. But you were still hurt, and not a day goes by when you hadn’t thought of reaching out to the other side of your bed, hoping he was there, or even step into the shower and feel his arms around you. Maybe, eventually, you’ll actually move on.

Now just didn’t feel like it.

So, with your everlasting love for a man you couldn’t have, you continued to sing.

When you were done, you placed the headphones on and listened.

And when you listened to your voice, soothing to hear but had that subtle breakage at the ends when the words hit home the most, you felt the lyrics go through you, felt how it was still there, all over your heart. And it just didn’t feel like something you could easily erase.

“I let you go…

I’m letting you go…

I’m letting you go…

But it doesn’t mean

That the sun comes up to greet me,

And not question how

My smiles are no longer real…”

You closed your eyes, and felt little droplets seep out of your eyes, down to your cheek and chin. You sniffed, wiping them off with your sleeve, then you hit stop.

----

4 MONTHS

Red Hood broke into a window of an abandoned apartment building. There were five men around, all with guns in their hands.

“Am I late for the party?”

They started shooting, and he dodged them by a mere inch rolling on the ground. He pulled out his own guns, but he couldn’t have a good enough aim. Red Hood took to hiding behind the crates before he took one, with his bare hands, then threw it at their direction.

That’s when he started shooting. At their shoulders specially to stop them from picking their guns back up with ease. Red Hood took another crate, threw it at a thug’s body, and when he was on the ground, he leapt up into the air.

One of them grabbed him just before he got to the floor, and he was swung to the wall, hitting his back against the hard concrete. “Fuck,” he said.

He opened fire, aiming at their legs before they could run and tackle him to the ground. Red Hood grabbed a man’s head, hit the back of his neck with his elbow, then slammed him against his knee. He hissed for him. “That gotta hurt.”

“Quit talking, Hood.”

He shot that guy’s shoulder before he could say anything more. “But I love talking to you guys!”

Four guys down. He grabbed one of them by the neck, and held him against the wall. “Tell me where the good stuff is, or I blow your brains out.”

“In there! There!” he pointed to a room. “Don’t fuckin’ hurt me!”

He headbutted him and he was instantly knocked out cold on the ground. He followed it with a shot in the head.

Red Hood ran into the same room, where three men, no longer armed, held their hands up to surrender. Their meth lab looked large enough to house children, all right.

“I’m gonna ask nicely-“

“They’re in there!”

He stood back. That was easy.

He went to the closet they pointed at and true enough, three kids held down with ropes around their legs and arms stared back at him in fear. They started to scream, but Red Hood placed his finger up to where his lips were supposed to be and cut their ropes. “Get out of here.”

They all ran out, and Red Hood cracked his neck, holding out his gun at the three masterminds behind the lab. “Alright. Who do I kill first?”

They were on their knees, hands behind their heads as they cried out for their lives.

“Him!”

Red Hood shot the man who spoke up. Right in the head. He fell to the floor and his blood spread out all over the floor. “Next!”

“Please!!”

“Not me! Please!”

“Wrong answer!” Red Hood exclaimed, then he hit the man’s head with the butt of his gun, before shooting him once in the chest.

“Should have thought of that before you kidnapped from the playgrounds, motherfucker.”

The last one, who’d pissed his pants, was looking up at him visibly trembling on his knees. He whispered all the pleas and prayers he knew, and Red Hood, who never submitted to any of that, placed the muzzle to his head.

He looked like a young man. The youngest out of the other two.

And he didn’t look too much like a bad guy.

Still, he could have orchestrated the kidnappings himself. Maybe even done more to those kids than he thought.

Jason clicked his gun.

“Please! I’m begging you.”

This happened often.

When he took too much time thinking about whether to kill or not,

He saw you.

You’d hate to see him this way. And he could hear your voice, telling him to stop. That he didn’t need to do this. He didn’t have to kill him. Not even the other two he just shot right then.

He fucking hated it when this happened.

Batman fucking spoke to him in his sleep and never once did he falter. He never once submitted to Batman’s demands.

But the moment he hears you,

He stopped.

He killed too many today.

Not just today even.

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“Wha-“

He punched him square on the face. And he fell to the ground in a loud, clean thud.

-----

5 MONTHS

“All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside

It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it

If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them they know not me

Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away

I know I have to go…”

Father and Son by Cat Stevens. You loved that song. The guitarist, a blonde guy named Dustin, looked at you and smiled just as you finished the song. The guy with the beat box, someone you didn’t really know, placed it back into the supply shelves.

You hopped off your stool and started to put the microphone stand away.

“Hey,” Dustin said. “Y/N.”

You turned your head to him.

“You have an amazing voice.”

You recall only talking to him once when you met a few days ago. When you were first assigned together for a live performance in school. “Thanks.”

“You play any instruments?”

You started wrapping the mic around with the wires. “Piano mostly. A bit of guitar.”

“I can teach you if you want.”

He was smiling too much at you, and you cleared your throat. If you were in high school you would have already left the room. But you didn’t. You let yourself stay in that room.

He started plucking on the guitar strings.

“You're really good,” you said to him.

“Thanks.”

You smiled, then when you finished cleaning up after yourself, you started for the door.

“Hey!”

You turned to him. Dustin went over to you with a pen in hand, then held out his hand for you to give him your palm.

“What?”

“My number.”

“Oh,” you gulped.

If you were in high school, you would have screamed at him to get out.

But, you didn’t.

You gave your palm to him, then he started writing down his number. “Call me,” he said.

Then he left the room. You didn’t, on the other hand. You were left standing there, wondering what the hell you just did.

You haven’t moved on. Not even the slightest. Jason had your heart for the last three years, even when he wasn’t here. Why would another 5 months be any different? Sure, you weren’t grieving over his death anymore, and the acceptance had sunk in eventually. But go out with another? Open your heart up to new people?

You weren’t sure you were ready. You didn’t exactly enjoy the idea of it.

But it didn’t matter if you were ready. One of these days, you’re going to have to let everything slide, call that cute guitarist and finally give yourself the life Jason always had in mind for you. What he always wanted for you.

You looked at your palm and swallowed.

-----

7 MONTHS

 THE GOTHAM TIMES

The Red Hood: Change of Heart?

‘Gotham’s most feared vigilante, the Red Hood, had always been attached to cases of cold-blooded murders, violent massacres, and heartless debacles in almost every crime ring imaginable. Hood, as he is most often referred to, has been more feared than Batman himself, due to his willingness to take lives, which Batman does not do.

However, in the recent months, cases of murders in crime settings the Red Hood was involved in have dramatically dropped. In good days, which have been occurring more often as time goes by, his kill count has been an astonishing ZERO and will only leave bodies unconscious before calling the police. First thought to be the work of Batman, it has been recently confirmed that the last sighting of the Red Hood, no dead bodies were found.’

.

Jason skipped over that article before it went on and on. He hated reading about himself. And the pictures they had of him, he snorted. Even the Gotham Times had amateurs for photographers.

Yeah. Okay. He hadn’t been killing for a while. Mostly because he didn’t exactly feel the need to anymore. Not when it wasn’t absolutely needed. Henchmen could still live. Their bosses, not so much. He’d still take lives if they absolutely deserved it.

He didn’t exactly think that much about it. He wasn’t proud of himself, exactly. Even when he probably should be. But he knew there were more things to worry about than give himself any kind of appraisal.

He kept scrolling down his feed.

He almost choked on his booze when he suddenly came across a picture of you, along with five other people in what looked like a singing gig, in a magazine article from Gotham Today.

He never clicked so fast onto the article.

GOTHAM TODAY

Gotham College of the Arts for Christmas Market

‘The musically gifted students from the graduating class of Gotham College of the Arts will be hosting this year’s Christmas Market live performance. It is also expected that they are booked for the Summer festival as well. The Lineup of these talented seniors include…’

Scroll. Scroll. Scroll.

There. Your name.

‘Y/FN. Singer. Songwriter.’

Beside it was a picture of you.

Jason smiled.

You looked so beautiful, with your teeth showing in your grin, your hair up in a ponytail and your makeup looking absolutely perfect. You were on stage, and you were holding a microphone. You looked straight into the camera. Straight at him.

He clutched at his shirt, right above where his heart was.

He shouldn’t do this.

Fuck it.

He went over to your profile.

You weren’t dating anybody, as far as he knew.

But he saw you posted three covers of different Lana Del Ray songs. He ended up watching all of them three times that night.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It didn’t even hurt him anymore. It had been for months. But now he was just laughing at himself just how much you still got to him.

He stared at your picture.

How are you looking at him now? With all the news reports about how he’d changed? Are you smiling? Were you proud of him? Was he a lot better in your eyes?

The whole point of him maintaining his distance between you was because of what he did. Because you didn’t deserve having a murderer as a boyfriend or a husband. Because of all the enemies he’s made.

Well,

What happens now? Now that that’s changed?

-----

9 MONTHS

You felt really bad for not calling Dustin.

And it already had been four months. You kept seeing him often in rehearsals. And basically every week in jamming sessions.

And, well, you decided, ultimately, that you really, really had to at least put some kind of effort to let Jason go. Nine months had passed and still you hadn’t dated anybody.

So last night, you finally called him.

Dustin picked you up from your apartment, and for that night, you went out to a nice little restaurant that served kebabs.

He was really cute. Not cute as Jason, though. And definitely not as-

Okay. You can't be doing that.

“So I was thinking, for the summer fair in three months, I thought we could do Shallow by Lady Gaga? I think it would fit your voice really well.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

“And, well, for me, I’ll have to be Bradley Cooper. That’s actually funny ‘cuz just last month I…”

You were staring at your food, picking them off with your fork. You just listened to him talk. On and on. You weren’t exactly sure what to say if he asked you to say anything or open a topic. Maybe you should have went to see a movie. You were bad at this. The only other first date you went to was in the Christmas Market with-

Fucking stop.

“Anyway, I feel bad now. You haven’t exactly said anything in a while. Tell me about you!”

You just blurted out whatever shit came up to mind. And when you grew too uncomfortable to talk, you started picking at your food. It wasn’t that he was difficult to talk to. It was just…

Well, for starters, something had been in his teeth for a while and you were too embarrassed to point anything out.

And when you left the restaurant, he dropped you off to your apartment.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “That was fun.”

“I had fun,” you bit your lips.

“I’ll, uh, call you!”

“Sure.”

Dustin went out the car and opened the door for you. He then walked you to your door, scratching the back of his neck. “I think you look really pretty today.”

You nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Woa. Okay.

You gulped.

You had to do this.

So, even when you weren’t so sure yourself, you said yes.

And when he leaned in, you closed your eyes.

Nothing.

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Jason.

You immediately pulled away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You backed off, and Dustin never looked so uncomfortable. You wanted to bury yourself deep in the ground and never come back. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Don’t be! I swear.”

“I’ll go now.” He pointed to his car with his thumb. “Have a good night.”

“Good night.”

He left, and you stormed out into your room, stuffing your head into your pillow.

WHY.

WHY.

WHY.

You sobbed all night, thinking about him. Thinking about how it all felt so wrong. It wasn’t Dustin at all. It was you. You couldn’t bring yourself to see any other guy in that light. Not even if you tried. And you really fucking tried.

You never called Dustin back.

-----

11 MONTHS

He’d changed so much.

And it was all because of you.

Almost a year since he saw you. and still, your voice spoke to him when he needed the guidance. Your face stared back when he had to imagine a face that would lead him into the right path. He hadn’t killed in months. He hadn’t done anything he’d otherwise regret.

Batman was no longer on his tail. He was no longer on Batman’s tail.

Now, he actually was proud of himself.

Because after that first time he came across you again after so many months. The same thought crossed his mind everyday since it began.

Is it possible that he deserved happiness now?

Could he finally be good enough to have someone he truly, genuinely loved?

Could he see himself be with his loved once? Surround himself with the wishes of life he never thought he’d have?

Did he change enough for you to actually be enough to have you for his own?

Will you take him back?

Because after eleven months, he was still in love with you. He broke his promises a few months back and started following you again in school, at work, practically everywhere he could catch you. You were still, without a doubt, so beautiful. And he himself was the one who plunged back into that hole. The abyss that was you. The only abyss he wanted to get lost in.

He loved you.

He still does.

He never actually stopped.

And he wanted you back. So much. He realized that the first time he saw you again about two months ago. As selfish as he was, he couldn’t help but think maybe you’d take him back as well.

He’d worked so hard to prove to himself, to the people of Gotham, and most specially, prove to you, that he wanted to be better. Good enough to actually deserve you.

Because he couldn’t take it anymore. He tried. Lots of women. None of them compared to you. Not in the slightest. And he stopped taking advantage of women just to make himself forget you after a while. It wasn’t right. And besides, he was an idiot to think he’d actually even forget you.

Will you take him back?

Will you take him back?

Will you?

Standing outside your apartment, hands stuffed to his hoodie, Jason stared at the door.

Just one push of the doorbell, and he’ll see you, face to face, after so long.

He really fucking wanted you. So bad.

Is he ready? Is he enough?

Hours. He stood there for hours, and still, he didn’t.

No.

He had one last thing to take care of.

One last thing, that if done, would change practically everything. Even if he wasn’t so sure, when he’ll probably have to force himself to do it with all his might,

It would change everything. And no longer will he have to be afraid of the monster that he is. What he was. What he could be if he didn’t try.

Jason pulled out his phone.

He placed it to his ear, walking out of your sidewalk.

“Hello?”

Jason swallowed, hearing that familiar, deep voice.

“Dick. It’s Jason.”

Silence. Bitter silence. Or sweet silence. Whatever it was called.

 “Jason?”

“Yeah.”

Mend the past. Forget about what had happened. Move on. That’s what he made you promise. He’ll have do his part as well.

“Hi, Jason.”

“Hi,” he gulped.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dick was eerily silent in between his occasional mumbles. “I read the reports.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Sorry.”

He was gonna do it.

‘Do it’, he heard you tell him.

“Can we meet? Just talk things through?”

“Oh,” Dick said. “O-of course, Jason. I’d really like that.”

“Don’t tell Bruce yet. I’ll call him, too. In time.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Jason looked back out into your apartment building, at the window with the fire escape.

-----

12 MONTHS

Gotham Summer Music Festival.

You were all dressed up, made up, and ready to go on stage. Your cue was up next, and you had one song to go through before they’ll let you go home. Your culminating activity before graduation, they said. You had to do this right. You weren’t so nervous, but the fact that your grades were on the line, it terrified you that you might actually have to go through a semester again if you don’t do well.

Nothing to worry about, though. If people were completely honest. You’ll do great. You did great in rehearsals. You’ll do great now. It shouldn’t be any different from all the other performances.

You pulled out your phone and opened an article you had saved in your screenshots.

RED HOOD: GOTHAM’S MOST BELOVED HERO

You smiled. Your heart warmed. Jason would have loved this. Seeing you here.

And you would have loved to see him. You were so proud of him, it was crazy.

You should’ve invited him. Maybe he would have said yes. It was because of him why you were here at all. Even after a year, seeing you onstage wouldn’t be so bad.

But you didn’t. You didn’t want to be rejected again. As much as you still fucking loved him, all the way down in the deepest pits in your heart you learned to tuck away when it wasn’t called for, you knew he probably wouldn’t say yes.

But you closed your eyes, imagined what he would have said to you right now, how his words would have sent you all the way up to the sky, and you’ll be able to tell him how proud you were of him, too. In your most perfect world, he’d be yours. Now that you’ve soared. Now that he was the best version of himself.

“Y/N! You're up!”

You stood up and shook yourself off from that trance.

A good crowd. They cheered at you, and you waved your arm up at them. You were singing solo. And with the school wanting a song that went best with your voice, they let you choose.

The guitar started playing. And you were closing your eyes, letting the music play right through you and got yourself into the void.

.

“I was wrong to say I loved her

I was wrong to think I'm right

But when I told her it was over

My darling I had lied

I've been running from my demons

Afraid to look behind

I've been running from myself

Afraid of what I'd find…”

.

You chose this song. You chose it because of him. Everything. The words. The emotion. It hit every nerve there was. You kept your eyes closed, really felt the words flow through you. The crowd was silent.

.

“But how am I supposed to love you

When I don't love who I am?

And how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?

'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning

So let go of my hand

Oh, how can I give you all of me

When I'm only half a man?”

.

You breathed in, taking a second, a tear went down your cheek, then you opened your eyes.

And the world, the once cruel, vile little world that never was so kind to you, finally gave you that smidge of kindness, a pardon of all the years of you beating yourself up, of you going through an inferno of a life, barely being held together with the strings of happiness you desperately hold onto.

Jason.

In the deepest parts of the crowd, so blended in that only you, you could have possibly picked him out of it.

He smiled up at you.

The tears continued to flow.

-----

“And now I'm stuck in this hotel room

By cold neon light

I've been waiting for an answer

But it don't come tonight

And every bottle I had stolen

Lay shattered on the floor

What's broken can't be whole, anymore

.

That song would have spoken to him a year ago. When he did think he was half a man.

He would’ve beaten himself over it like all those years, then he’d have left the crowd and be on his way. But when you caught his eye, tears down your face, he knew this was the right choice. He knew it was right to come back.

God, he was so proud of you.

He could watch you all day. You improved so much, and you sounded nothing less of an angel by now. You were going to ace this grade and you were going to graduate with your head held high, being one of the most talked about students in the school. He was so, so fucking proud of you.

And if you weren’t looking at him like this, he would have thought you didn’t need him anymore.

But he’ll take that chance. He’ll let you make that decision. For once. You’ll be the one to decide if you still wanted him back. He did everything he could to give you that freedom of a choice. Just a few days ago, he talked to Bruce. He’d been talking to Dick and even Tim every so often.

Even if you’ll say no, even if you wouldn’t have him, he came to thank you. If it weren’t for you he wouldn’t be here at all.

It was as if that year without you didn’t even pass. He was still as in love with you as the first time.

He realized you were the only one he’ll ever be in love with since… well, since he first kissed you.

He walked closer to the stage, his eyes never leaving you. You looked at him, with your tears. ‘I’m here,’ he mouthed at you.

And you understood. You closed your eyes, finishing the song with the whole crowd in wild screams and claps. He clapped for you, then he started walking to edge of the crowd. To the left. He saw you going in there.

.

Fuck.

Your heart was beating so fast.

And it wasn’t because you basically finished college or that you performed in front of the biggest crowd in your life.

You went through the mounds of people coming to congratulate you. You hurriedly shook every hand you could, then you excused yourself to go out into the crowd.

.

You weren’t here. Where did you go? He could have sworn you went this way just a moment ago. Jason went back into the audience, walking over to the other side, the one going into the backstage.

.

You couldn’t see him. He wasn’t where you last saw him. Jason couldn’t have left, right? He told you he was here. He’d be a jackass if he left again. You went into the crowd and got yourself lost.

.

“Sorry,” he said to a guy he accidently hit with his shoulder. You weren’t backstage. The sun was starting to come down. It’ll be a lot harder to find you in the dark. People were sweaty and smelly and he desperately wanted to get out of here.

.

You bumped through every person you could. “Excuse me.”  You stood in your tip toes, looking for a guy so tall he’d be seen from a mile away. Nothing. You couldn’t see him. You started to feel your heart sink.

.

He had to see you now. Now. Now. Now. Where the fuck were you-

There. Standing in the middle of the audience on your toes, trying to look for him in the other direction. And he froze. He didn’t know if he should come up to you so suddenly. What was he going to say to you?

.

You started to lose so much hope, so quickly you wanted to cry.

But as the world continued to remind you that good things eventually do happen, you turned around.

He was almost being hidden by the people passing through, but the moment you caught his eye, everything else was a blur.

.

You saw him now, with your beautiful eyes shaking as it caught his own. Jason gulped, hands in his pockets trying to conceal his quaking. He took the first step.

The crowd’s screams. The voices. The people around you. They didn’t exist.

.

You started walking towards him, slowly. You took your time. You were too nervous to just suddenly go up to him. But he looked so handsome and bright and radiant. No one would blame you. You heard soft bells in the distance, or perhaps a soft key in the piano, repeatedly playing the more steps you took.

.

Jason smiled at you.

.

You smiled back.

.

And finally, finally…

You were standing in front of him.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

.

You didn’t know what to tell him. You took even more steps to close your distance. And when you got close enough, despite the crowd and the noise, you heard him. “Hi…”

You chuckled. “Hi…”

.

He looked down, at his feet. He was probably blushing at the sight of you. You just looked so beautiful.

.

Everything. After all that, you’ve both changed for the better.

.

And even when it took so long, now, you were ready for each other.

.

Logically. Truthfully. The only thing that one year taught him was how much he dreaded having to go on each day without you. 

.

It just couldn't be. Both of you forcing yourselves to believe you were better off apart. It just wasn't true. In the simplest way, you had to have each other.

.

It wouldn't be living without you. 

.

No other time felt so right.

.

Jason took another step closer to you. “You were amazing out there…”

“Thank you,” you said. You took the next step. You were standing so close to his chest, you looked right up to his eyes.

.

You didn’t want to waste any more time.

“I heard... about the things you've done,” you told him. “I‘m proud of you.”

Jason smiled.

"I'm proud of you, too."

.

Jason wanted you in his arms already. Not a minute more to pass without you in them.

He took your hand. And you looked at it, before turning up to look so mesmerizingly into his eyes. He had so much to say to you.

Here you were, standing right in front of him.

Yeah. This was the right choice.

He didn't even have to say all that he thought, how you two just couldn't live being apart and how, especially now, you didn't have to. You could have him. He could have you. 

You held his face, so gently with your lingering eyes, then you kissed him.

-----

The whole world could have disappeared.

But nothing, nothing could have stopped either of you from a kiss that had been years too late. A kiss that a beginning to another story. One where no longer did you have more secrets, more demons to hide. When you’ve both changed so much for the other that the timing couldn’t possibly be more perfect. You were here. He was here.

Everything was spinning. Everything was light. And with that kiss, flashes of a future you desperately wanted washed over you, and after all those years of hardships and punishments, if this was what it ultimately led to, then it was all worth it.

“Y/N...” he whispered.

Jason held you by the face and kissed you so hard, the whole crowd erupting in applause for another performer he didn’t care about. You held onto him so tightly, letting the sun go down as time went by. You didn’t count the minutes. Not any longer. You both knew, somehow, you just knew. This time, it was going to last.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. You smiled so brightly against his lips. “Where?”

He looked around. “I have a place in mind. But it’s three hours away.”

-----

Just as it had been chaotic, wild, and overwhelming a while ago, it was the complete opposite now.

The place was closed, as expected, but you and Jason managed to go to the house’s door step. He took you to a place that he owed your story to. You’ve never been here before, but even then, he saw how much your smile lit up the empty Philadelphia street the moment you walked out of the car.

And with you, sitting on the steps of the historical building with him on your side, you both looked up at the sky, at the stars that littered about that weren’t there back at home.

Jason thanked the stars as well. He thanked everything. You leaned on his shoulder, and you spent the night away on that porch, watching how love made the whole world come to a slow, steady pause. He was never going to let you go. Not anymore. You were his. Actually his. Forever.

Just like he used to, Jason reached over to take your chin, and with his lips so soft, he kissed you.

You were sitting outside the house of a man who brought two lost souls together, who often wrote about sadness and depth and ended up bringing two kids to fall in love. The man he never thought he’d thank, but he did.

On the plaque standing next to the house’s door, it read:

Edgar Allan Pоe National Historic Site

--------

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-------

FUUUUUUUUCK IT’S OVER I CAN’T BELIEVE IT

TAGLIST

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@sarcasmismyfirstlove

@damned-queen-of-gotham

@idkmanicantenglish

@wunderstell

@birdy-bat-writes

@get-loki

@everyday-imfangirling

@comic-nerd-dc

@multifandoms916

@icequeen208

@offendedfishnoises

@egdolan

@xemiefx

@arkhamtoddler

@elsenthal

@mythicbitchx

@supremehaunter

@lucy-roo

@roseangel013bf

@loxbbg

@reclusive-chicken-nugget

@l-inkage

@http-cherries

@shadowsndaisies

@river9noble

@zphilophobiaz

@annoylinglyaries

@knightfall05x

@flowersgirl02

@hyp-oh-critical

@satan-s-ass

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #batarella #batarella fluff #batarella angst #i don't hate you series #i don't hate you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd reader insert #batarella series

[sepublic]

The Old West and Pig Baby Car!

           I love Kez, she’s… SUCH a weird, chilled-out, unusually-attracted-to-anything little ding-bell! With her head constantly in the clouds and always sparkling like there’s stars obscuring her eyes… And her simplistic yet incredibly expressive design, those two beady eyes that as said, go stare into FOREVER…! And how she’s a remorseless disaster magnet and a weirdo who’s always vibing and on some weird wavelength that’s hard to understand, but once you get it, you get it!

           Let me say it again, I ADORE how this show takes advantage of its premise and setting to always do something NEW with the characters, and I love how we’re building up to a conflict of Kez’s past enemies teaming up to get revenge! That seems to be a theme of this season so far, teamwork, coming together, etc., how ironic that collaboration is going to be a danger to the dynamic duo as well! Kez’s weird, clumsy, forgetful, and overall just… MOOD, and way of talk- I love her, I love her voice, she’s amazing! Also, I halfway called it with the sheriff caterpillar metamorphosizing… But into the judge, THAT I did not expect!

           Also, it seems that in this world, only THREE things are constant- Death, Taxes, and Samantha the Cat! When I saw her I legit deadpanned my expression, but c’mon, we all saw it coming, and honestly she’s such a reassuring part of this show, in a sense; We know she’s always there and we can always count on her to be present, she’s SEEN some stuff and she’s a veteran in a sense! Weird thought, but could one say that Samantha is the true protagonist of the show, and the show is about her watching various passengers and their messes?

          Perhaps a final book for the show would’ve had Samantha as the primary denizen, to round things up and cap it all off… Either way, I love seeing her differing roles and how she’s handled in each book- First as this unusual enemy and ally, then as a brief obstacle/cameo, then with emotional resonance and guilt and backstory… And it seems so far here, mostly just a cameo and an ally! It’s neat, I love seeing how Samantha’s story, brief as it may be sometimes, is handled in each book! Who knows, maybe Samantha is writing the books, and that’s why they’re called that! Now I’m waiting for Randall to show up…

          And also, that GAG and cut to Samantha instantly flipping on a (literal) dime for money, even if she’s also collaborating with Kez, was hilarious and so wonderfully expressive of her character in a nutshell, even for veterans who’ve already SEEN her like this! Seems she hasn’t changed much, but with how she seemingly betrayed people, only with the plan to come back… Makes you wonder if that’s what she intended for her and Simon in that Cardboard Box Car with Ghom, only for Grace to inadvertently sidetrack things? Oh god, that’s dark- The idea that Grace unknowingly ruined things between Samantha and Simon, and that plays into Samantha disliking her… But at the same time, she doesn’t seem to hold things against Grace for it, so probably not.

          But oof, that’d just play into Simon’s accusations of Grace ‘ruining’ him, while Grace wants to save and help others like with those kids in the Apex or Hazel, only to misunderstand… The concept of retroactive revelations to characters and thematic foreshadowing, SO GOOD, and it’s making me appreciate more this concept of a Book that takes place in the past, to establish additional context for previous and even later characters, perhaps!

           Also, just… The colors, the zany hijinx and ideas, the premise for each car, the denizens- They’re all so wonderful and unique, and I applaud the crew for their creativity, for never letting things get old… Each car is such a fun place to get stuck in, well most of them… Pig Baby was unusual, and I can see what Owen was referencing with that one pig tweet! I think there’s a clever pun to be made in the way the numbers sync, almost like a duet for music… The motifs, man!

           The jabs at post-war American cuisine were hilarious, and Ryan man… I’m glad to see him learn to cool down; But unfortunately, Min thinks it’s ONLY Ryan, and he doesn’t realize he has to collaborate as well! And I like that… This idea of like; Two people are both contributing to this mess equally, you can’t just pin the blame on one, and they BOTH have to make concessions and work together! It’s a contrast to Book 3, in that it seems Ryan and Min are actually slated to work things out, VS Simon and Grace… With Grace recognizing how the two of them screwed each other up, but Simon refusing to admit his fault! Duet then forms a duality with Cult of the Conductor, one about the downfall, the other about two reconciling… Hopefully, we’ll see later down the line.

           It’s definitely going to be a hard pill for Min to swallow, that he also has stake in this issue- I wonder if he’s under this impression that… He’s more ‘mature’ than Ryan, and as a result, he doesn’t want to confront his part in the situation? Though to be fair, it could just be a matter of circumstance; Ryan was the first to have a puzzle dealing with his own fault, and Ryan was the one who got them on, so it makes sense that Min assumes it’s Ryan’s issue! But dang… I felt for Ryan at the end, I feel like he’s just incredibly lonely himself and desiring positive attention, to feel validated; Whilst Min sort of feels validated? At the very least, I don’t think it’s as much of an issue for him, whilst with Ryan he has to compete with his siblings…

           Hopefully Ryan will be able to find that sort of positive attention, while also still respecting Min’s boundaries and his own needs as a person; Min can’t just attend to his every need, the way the Cow Creamer does for Pig Baby! Also, another random thought, but Kez’s very lax, go-with-the-flow attitude… Honestly, it kind of reminds me of like, the kind of partners that Ryan had, before he went back to Min maybe? I dunno, I recognize that Kez definitely has huge stoner vibes, and a hypothetical Human Kez in an AU seems like the type of person Ryan would’ve encountered… Hitching a ride, taking his van and thanking him, but not being THAT grateful, lol.

           Nevertheless, that’s one stop- Onto the next one! And as Kez reminds us so importantly, it’s not JUST about the destination, but the journey… I’m glad to see Min be self-aware of the need to apply lessons here the way Lake was, and I bet this whole ‘journey and destination’ mentality might apply to Ryan’s whole thing of travelling around and doing performances! We’ll see… Next stop, passengers!

#infinity train #infinity train spoilers #infinity train book 4 spoilers #infinity train book 4 #infinity train duet #infinity train ryan #ryan akagi #infinity train min #min-gi park #infinity train kez #infinity train samantha #infinity train the cat #analysis #speculation

[aclosetfan]

21

(ask game) thank you so much for playing the game!! you’re the best (per usual)!!

Helllll yeahhhhh 21 is the DUMBEST STUPIDEST fic I’ve ever made and I lovvveee it 💚💙❤️ it’s the “Vampire Zombie” one i mentioned in the original ask game post 😂😂

So glad someone picked the number!! Background to keep in mind: do yall remember when there was just a shit ton of Vampire fics on FFN?? Idk about ao3, but for newer fandom members this was TOTALLY a trend in the early 2000s on ffn, and I was like why the fuck are all of these here??? And like, why is it constantly a predator-prey relationship between the rrb and ppg??? So I was like wait…okay, but this could be funny and decided to write a story making fun of these super cringey stereotypes.

The story would be a multi fic and I have zero idea how to explain it concisely, so basically below the cut is just me laying it all out for you srsly I’m just bearing my soul to you:

For the girls’ birthday, the Professor tricks out the simulation room they train in to be a VR game room b/c the girls had talked about VR once (and only once), but the Professor thought it was cool and ran with it. The Girls can create a world of their choosing and explore. They admit the idea is pretty cool and eventually start arguing where they should “go” first. Blossom suggests a historical era like the Victorian era/Bubbles suggests something romantic, where she hints at vampires/Buttercup doesn't like any of those ideas, but the vampires reminded her of all of her zombie videogames she plays and she ends up suggesting something like that instead/ To prevent arguing the Professors says he’ll combine all three ideas into one!

[[how does this machine work??? IDK in the spirit of early 2000 fanfics, anything complicated and confusing is only vaguely explained—which has in story effects that drive Blossom INSANE! Idk how it would work technically, but my choices as the writer on what is/is not describe and purposeful grammar mistakes has story implications] [ill explain this more later]]

The Professor loads up the “game,” but something malfunctions. He tells the girls (Buttercup) not to touch anything. She doesn't listen and ends up plugging something into an entirely different device against Blossom & Bubbles protest. The device is that old “time machine” thing the Professor made in one of the OG cartoon (the one where the girls meet the Young Professor). It turns out that whatever she does (again still don't ask me how) fuses the basic concept of the two machines together and creates a device that transports them to a parallel universe that matches the specifications of the “game” they wanted to create.

[[Throughout the story, i want to include little video game gags, like bottomless bags for storage, or random bullets laying around, little things like that. (they've lost their powers/ but BC keeps finding all these random guns/knifes so they're good) I also give the girls the “ability” to read the dialogue I write. So, when I mess up a comma (i.e. Let’s eat Grandma! vs Let’s eat, Grandma!), Blossom will look at the “character” they’re talking to and be like, “WELL, which is IT!?”] [I know it’s stupid, but I think its so fun!]]

So, because of the video game “glitch,” the girls think for the longest time they’re actually IN a video game, but when they “go to sleep” thinking that’ll save the game and they can quit, per Professor’s instruction, they find out they can’t. Cue freak out. After the calm down, Buttercup’s like okay, listen we probably just have to beat the game! Too bad they don’t know what the game’s objective is exactly. They just know they’re dressed in Victorian Era clothes and their “Professor” is the town’s doctor? Their mother died (tragically). It’s all a bit dramatic. They start searching for clues. Eventually, they find out that the Town has a zombie problem (THANKS BUTTERCUP!), and Blossom figures if they can cure that, they beat the game. Unbeknownst to them, they are actually stuck in a stupid vampire love plot there just happens to be zombies. [Like, you can’t have one supernatural creature without another and I wasn’t going to write about werewolves.] No one in town seems to care about the undead problem. Buttercup keeps “leveling up,” Blossom’s on the verge of a breakdown, and then, finally, Bubbles meets Boomer.

Boomer swears up and down Bubbles is his fated mate. Bubbles—who is definitely interested—is like ooo so you’re a vampire, cutie? He’s broody about it. She’s like so do you sparkle in the sun?? (I absolutely love sparkles, she says). He’s like, wut?? She’s like, do you sparkle???? He’s like, uh no, the sun kind of burns my energy tho. She’s like, oh. Okay. I see. You don’t sparkle. Sooo, well, haha, okay you seem like a really really sweet guy with the whole eternal devotion thing, but I don’t think this is really going to work out between us. He’s again like WUT. Boomer gets broken up with because he doesn’t sparkle.

Vampire Butch is flat out scared of Buttercup. Like he fully admits he’s sucked infants dry of their blood; he’s why people should fear the night; he’s not a “good guy”; but BC is a force to be reckoned with. In the Victorian era, I’m guessing they had little to no experience with the modern day “bro” and BC is full on bro. This doesn’t mesh well with Butch’s broody, dark, vampire thing he’s got going on. She’s too vulgar for a Victorian lady, she wears things called “Chacos,” and she has a gun??? Multiple guns. And He. Has. No. Fucking. Idea. What. She. Is. Saying!! No! He will not “dab her up!” No, he “doesn’t lift.” This wasn’t his mysterious, tough (but still a damsel, mind you) mate he met one fateful evening, this was some heathen creature (and this is coming from a vampire), so please, please, please, can he kill her?????  

Blossom’s like I don’t like to be touched and I’m a lesbian, and Brick’s like one) I think I respect you more than the old Blossom; two) the zombies just appeared, stop asking; three) you need to now help us find our mates before their eighteenth birthday or we’re all screwed.

Ready to kick ass and fight sexist stereotypes with their new “bros,” the girls set out with their new objective, hoping beyond hope that once they find the missing girls they’ll be able to go home. The girls find out that their parallel alternatives went disappearing a few days ago, so their “return” had been a relief to the whole town. [[Blossom’s like why did no one question our clothing?!?! Why are there zombies?!?!]] ugh and then, I don’t know what happens :( really. I never really ended it. They girls just constantly shit on the boys being broody vampires and kick zombie ass, like idk what else a gal could want out of a story. I feel like they end up finding the other girls. And I think that I was going to bring HIM into the mix, but it’s still just regular HIM. It turns out that HIM likes jumping dimensions to make the Girls life hell in every lifetime and has cursed the three girls living in the vampire dimension. (“I’ve got a life outside of just you, ya know.” HIM huffed, “What are you three doing here?”) It also turns out that out of all the dimensions, our Girls as Superheroes are the best at beating HIM and saving the day, so he’s extra pissy that they’re ruining his carefully crafted “historical romance vampire soap opera.” Blossom loses her shit because the historical inaccuracies are too high to now ignore, Bubbles is pissed because HIM didn’t make good enough vampires, and Buttercup’s like honestly, not a bad game, ngl. Everyone ignores her.

[[They beat HIM, free the other girls, return home, and BC obsesses over their stats sheets. Back in Vampire land, the boys are like wait a second the relationships we are now stuck in suck.] [The zombies are still not explained]]

#21 #is such a good number #my outlines #my writing #outline ask game #ppg fic outline #this is so stupid but come on I miss early 2000 fanfics #also like i said I don't know how i would even write the gaming glitches #but it would be really fun to figure out #maybe i WILL write this one someday just for the fun of it!! #lemme kno what you think #this is my last one tonight but plz keep on asking lol

[aifastic]

Winning Lines

The @talesofteufort zine has been shipped, and the PDFs sent! Thank you very much to everyone who contributed. I’m very glad to have been able to participate in this project; it was a wonderful experience and it’s been great working with everyone aaaa ♥

I’m really happy to share my piece for the zine! I really hope you all like it ♥ (Read it below the cut)

Title: Winning Lines Words: 1845 Warnings: None Summary: BLU has a drawing contest. Demo just wants his magazine back.

-----

“ARE YOU MANN ENOUGH TO DRAW THIS BETTER THAN US?”

The header caught BLU’s Demoman’s attention. He’d been reading the latest issue of Hat-Wearing Man when he found the ad at the bottom of one of the pages. There was a somewhat simple drawing of a monkey in a spacesuit. “If you draw Poopy Joe better than our extremely talented artist, we’ll give him the boot—and kick his ass in the process! And your picture will be the new image of our project and you, our lucky friend, will win nothing less than $700 dollars!”

“Huh, it doesn’t look that hard…” he said, pensive. Suddenly, the magazine was snatched from his hands. “Hey!”

“Ohohoh, what’s this?” Scout said, grinning at the magazine. “Hey, I’d win this in the blink of an eye!”

“Oi! Get your own!” Demo took the magazine back. “I’m gonna try this. Mum will love the extra money,” he added to himself.

“Pffft, no way, it’s a waste of mail money, pally. If someone should participate, that’s someone who actually has a chance.”

“Heh.”

They turned around to see Sniper in a corner, grinning.

“What’s your deal, Long Legs?”

“Shut up, ya scoundrel. If anyone has a chance here, it’s me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Demo asked. “Where’s your credentials, mate?”

“Don’t need any,” he said. “Quiet kid, hours at the back of the classroom sketching the teacher being eaten by a croc.” He grinned. “It should be easy as cake.”

“Oi, do ya remember the magazine is mine?”

“I agree, though—the chance should be for whoever’s got the talent.”

Demo sighed. “Aye, alright. But I’m not gonna just give it away.” His face lit up, an idea coming to his mind. “You’ll have to beat me for it.”

“Huh?” Both mercenaries stared at him quizzically.

Demo grinned, eye glinting.

“Let’s have a drawing contest.”

-----

They emptied the kitchen table in order to make room for their sheets of paper, pencils and pens. In the meantime, they threw evaluative gazes at each other, competitive strike flaring up.

The rest of the team slowly wandered to the room to find out what was going on.

“What is noise?” asked Heavy, scratching his chest. Medic, who was right behind him, had just closed it, having found himself too distracted by the ruckus to continue his surgery.

“We’re about to find out who’s gonna win 700 dollars!”

Medic perked up. “I am in. What is the bet?”

“We’re not betting, mate.” Sniper showed him the magazine’s ad. “It’s a contest.”

Medic’s smile turned dangerous. “Even better.”

“Heavy is in, too.”

“Aw, come on, guys! It’s not as if you’re gonna beat me!”

Heavy threw Scout an unimpressed look. “It is fun. I want extra money. I am in.”

“Alright, alright, mate. Sure.” Demo handed them both some extra sheets of paper they'd brought just in case.

Medic excused himself to go search for a couple of pens. On his way out, he almost crashed onto Soldier.

“Ach, watch where you’re going!”

“I need sustenance, maggot! And you’re on my way!” He shoved Medic away, making him stumble on the way out. A couple of German swears could be heard from the corridor. “Hello, everyone!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna get in too,” Scout groaned.

“In what?” Soldier inquired, tilting his head. Demo showed him the magazine’s ad.

Engineer peeked over his shoulder.

“Oh, a drawing contest?” he said, looking at it with a fond smile. “Heh. It’s been a while since I tried my hand at one o’ those. But I thought they allowed only one entry per ad?”

“That is point,” Heavy said. “We are fighting to get chance to earn money.”

“Oh…” Soldier grinned. “I’m in, maggots! I actually studied art with Kickasso.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Sure, mate,” Demo said, patting his back and attempting to lead him into the kitchen.

“You don’t believe me!” Soldier looked at everyone. Engie shrugged. Scout picked at his nails, and Sniper scratched the table distractedly. Heavy’s eyes said it all. “I will prove it to all of you!” And he headed to the table, snatching a paper sheet from the pile.

Demo brushed a hand across his own face. “I hope Medic brings enough pens.”

“I’ll go for mine,” Engie said. He added, “And I’ll go look for Pyro; they’ll love this.”

Scout groaned. “Anyone else? Maybe Saxton Hale?”

Spy’s laughter can be heard from a corner of the room.

“Oh, this is priceless. I wasn’t going to butt in, but this looks like too much fun to pass on the opportunity.”

“The opportunity to what?” Scout said, miffed.

“You’ll see,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Besides, you need a referee, don’t you?”

“Ugh,” Scout said, bonking his head on the table.

-----

Everyone looked at each other from their respective places. Scout’s leg bounced nonstop; Sniper picked unconsciously at his pencil. Heavy’s grip on his pen was strong enough for Medic to worry about it breaking.

“Alright,” said Spy. “You have to draw…” He squinted. “Poopy Joe, following the ad’s instructions; the best artist wins. The rules are: no interfering with anyone’s drawing. No kicking under the table. No destroying anyone’s drawing. No rising up from the table until all this is over. No showing your drawing until everyone is finished. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Pyro hummed happily.

“Excellent. So, on the count of three: One, two… Three!”

Scout’s pen tore onto the paper. “Shit! Do you have a spare?” Spy handed him one. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The truth was, Scout wasn’t that confident of the fact he was going to win. When it was just him and Demo, he’d been sure he’d win to the unsteady hand of a drunk man. And Sniper was all bragging anyways. But Medic? He’d probably drawn lots of skeletons and stuff at college. And Engineer’s schematics always look exactly like the finished product. Shit. And—did Soldier really paint with Kickasso? Nah, he shook his head. He didn’t think so. Heavy was a wild card, though.

But he had to try anyway! He couldn’t back off now. So he put his all into it.

Engineer turned his sheet of paper down. Hell! That was fast. He tried to concentrate in the lines that formed Poopy Joe, and emulated them the best he could. Damn, his hand was sweaty… He hated drawing. His cousin had always been better at it, and it pissed him off even now, far from home.

He slapped his drawing on the table, face down. “Done!” He looked up to see everyone had finished. Crap.

“Alright, then,” said Spy. “Let’s see what you came up with.”

“Come up with?” That had many meanings, but the way Spy said it… “What do you mean?”

“The challenge was to improve on the design of Poopy Joe drawn by the artist, not to copy it.”

“Oh, darn,” Engineer said, showing a perfect copy of the Poopy Joe logo. Holy shit. “Guess I got a bit carried away. I’m more used to copying stuff, ya know.”

Soldier snickered.

“Let’s see what you did, Soldier boy.”

“Alright! Look at it and weep!”

He showed them all a mess of lines with dots in seemingly random places.

“Soldier, that’s…” Scout got elbowed by Demo. “That’s cool. What are… those?”

“Those are his eyes!” Oh, God.

“Let’s see Demo’s!” grinned Soldier, confidently.

“Ach, you know I’m no artist, mate,” he said, showing his drawing. It was… Actually, it was pretty decent. His drawing had a cartoonish style that drew everyone’s eyes in.

“Interesting,” said Spy, nodding approvingly.

“Demo did great job,” Heavy said, crossing his arms.

“Aw, thanks, mate.” Demo shrugged it off, somewhat flustered. “What about yours?”

Heavy showed his drawing. It was simple, a single line delineating the silhouette of the monkey astronaut. It was stylish, though it was difficult to guess what it was at times.

“Wonderful, mein freund!” Medic clapped, and revealed his. It was… Oh, my god. “I might have put a bit too much emphasis on his organs.”

“Next!” yelled Scout, tearing his eyes away from the gory drawing. Shit. Now he had to show his. Alright. You can do this, he told himself.

He turned the page face up.

“Mate,” Sniper said.

“Oh, buddy, we made the same mistake.”

“Y’know? I saw RED’s Scout draw once and I secretly thought we were doomed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Scout said, face beet red. It was true, he’d tried to copy the drawing, like Engineer did. And his lines weren’t as sure as Demo’s or Heavy’s. Shit. He screwed up big time.

“It’s good overall, mate,” Sniper said. “You just need more confidence.”

Scout flushed. “What about yours, Mister Expert?”

Sniper grunted, and showed his drawing. Oh, wow. It was really good! The monkey looked like it’d come out of the page and tear them apart. He felt as if he would be able to touch its fur.

“Wow, Slim! That’s one helluva good drawing!”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “I told ya: quiet kid.”

“Where is his spacesuit, though?”

His face dropped. “Aw, hell.”

“Hmmmph!” Pyro yelled, pointing at their sheet of paper.

“Alright,” Spy said, grinning along with Engineer. “The moment of truth has come.”

“What do you mean—?”

Holy shit.

The drawing was astounding. The monkey looked cartoonish enough not to look real, but in a way that made the drawing look alive. Everything was there, and in wonderful detail: The space-suit, the stars… Even an additional full moon in the background that was a perfect circle.

“Holy shit, Py!” Scout said. “How did you do that?”

“Hhmph?” Pyro asked, pointing at the moon. Everyone nodded. Pyro mumbled happily, grabbing another sheet of paper, and drew a classical Greek style face, then erased the rest of its features little by little until they got a perfect circle.

Oh, for the love of—

“Well, it seems we have our winner,” said Spy, handing Pyro the magazine. Pyro clapped with glee, running off with it.

“Aw, man. That was totally unfair. You knew this would happen!” Scout pointed to Spy accusingly.

“I had my suspicions,” he said, grinning.

“Hey, maggots,” Soldier said, sniffing. “Is that smoke?”

They all turned around to watch Pyro as they set the magazine on fire.

“Ach! My magazine!” Demo ran and stomped on it. However, many of the pages, including the drawing contest ad, didn’t make it. “Hell. Why, mate?”

“Hmmphmmphmmph!” they said, pointing at everyone in the room, then at their drawings. Then they clapped.

Everyone looked at each other, and found a common understanding. Who knew what Pyro said? But they had the feeling they meant they were all winners today.

“So it was a huge waste of everyone’s time. Fantastic,” Spy said. “Entertaining, though.”

“Shut up, Spy, we were having a moment,” Scout said.

And yes, indeed. Because even though Demo lost his magazine, he left the room with a good feeling inside. And he was sure that the rest felt the same way.

Poopy Joe’s artist could keep his job for another day.

#Team Fortress 2 #fanfiction #BLU Team #Tales of Teufort #Tales of Teufort zine #[♥]

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Don Dawson

(Not my gif)(requested by anonymous)

- Don and you first meet when you’re walking through the halls during class time to go deliver something for your teacher. He was ditching class with a friend when the two of you “bumped into each other” and by that I mean you passed them while they leaned against a group of lockers.

- He does a doubletake when you walk past him for the first time. He isn’t shy about his leering either, he full on turns toward you and stares. After he’s gotten a good look, he turns toward his friend, waggles his eyebrows, and tails it after you.

- It kind of spooks you a little when he comes up beside you with an enthusiastic “how ya doin!” but you smile awkwardly and greet him back. He tries to chat you up while you walk back to class; he’s kind of cute so you don’t exactly mind.

- You pause outside of your class to talk a little more but your teacher cuts your conversation short with a teasing comment to you and a cocked brow to Don. He in response starts to flirt with your teacher, earning himself a smile and giggle from you. He winks at you one last time before he disappears back into the hallway and your teacher closes the door.

- He catches you when you’re walking to your car after school and propositions you in his usual fashion. You say “yeah, no thanks” and get in your car, leaving him in the dust. It was at that moment, watching your car disappear down the road, that he decides he has to have you.

- You thought the ordeal was kind of funny so you aren’t too bothered when he approaches you while you’re out with some friends. The two of you just so happened to go to the same place with your individual friend groups. He doesnt proposition you this time, thankfully.

- Now Don, at first, just thought you were hot and was trying to shoot his shot and to weasel his way into your pants. But as he’s talking to you he realizes that he really likes you, like you’re fun to talk to and you’re really interesting. He starts to feel this connection with you that he’s never really had with anyone else.

- Even though he doesn’t want to “admit it” he forms a little crush on you. He starts to talk to and hang out with you more; making it kind of obvious that he likes you with his flirting and innuendos. And you like it, him and the attention, so when he says “Hey why don’t we go grab a bite to eat sometime.” You tell him to “name a date and you’ll be there.”

- It takes him only a few seconds to respond.

- For your first date he gets a few beers and sodas and takes you out to a field where you sit in the bed of his truck and stargaze. He goes to kiss you once or twice but you don’t let him, you know how he is with girls and want to test him a little before you give in. Either way everything goes well and you agree to go out with him again.

- Although he accepts your refusal he probably still complains to the guys that you aren’t letting him “do anything”. But your refusal is more entertaining rather than anything else, he likes you as more than a lay so it doesn’t bother too much. He’s more determined and excited than annoyed.

- For your third date you’d gone to a concert together and the two of you had your first kiss as the band played. Definitely a very memorable experience and one you’re glad to remember. After your first kiss he knew for sure that you were the one.

- For the most part you have a very playful relationship.

- A lot of nicknames although most of the time he’s joking when he uses them. Like he’ll say a bunch of them in a row to get your attention or when he’s smothering you in affection.

- A few genuine ones still slip out sometimes.

- He kind of just lets you do whatever you want to him. Put his hair in pigtails, put make up on him, do his nails, crawl all over him, climb him like a monkey, anything you want as long as the evidence can be erased or go unnoticed.

-  He loves affection and touching you and all that but he isn’t all that into pda. He likes the joking, quick funny stuff but keeps most of what he does behind closed doors unless you’re hanging around some of his good friends who also have their girlfriends there.

- He likes to lay his head in your lap and have you play with his hair.

- Lots of hugs.

- Piggyback rides.

- Double dates with Simone and Pink.

- Matching overalls.

- You’ve probably put flowers in the pocket of his overalls and he secretly finds it so precious. You’ve definitely snuck little notes in them without him knowing and when he finds them he can’t help but smile.

- Smacking his arm and giving him looks to get him to behave, you try your best to keep him out of trouble even though he makes it pretty difficult.

- He watches you a lot, especially whenever you walk away...he likes the view.

- He’s usually pretty animated and goofy, its kind of just how he is so you get to observe all of his adorable and funny quirks.

- You’re nearly always smiling or laughing when you’re with him.

- Playful flirting.

- Him trying to jokingly yet not so jokingly proposition you.

- Lewd jokes, he laughs hysterically whenever you grimace at them.

- Going to his football games and cheering him on.

- Meeting him after football practice and kissing behind the bleachers.

- Hanging out in the back of pickup trucks.

- Dawson’s kinda cool with everyone so he has a lot of friends around the school and subsequently everyones pretty friendly to you. All your friends probably like him. 

- Going to parties with him and getting invited to others just for being his girlfriend.

- He always has a beer ready for you or shares his own with you, if you’re into that sort of thing.

- Going on little adventures with him.

- Hes pretty much down to do whatever you have in mind.

- Concert dates.

- He’ll play tackle/pounce on you and start kissing all over your neck and face; he’s pretty fond of that move.

- Secret handshakes.

- He’s a good listener, he likes hearing about what’s new in your life and things that you’ve done recently.

- He hates seeing you upset; he’s not very good at comforting you but he tries to get you to forget about whatever’s bugging you.

- Play wrestling.

- If you mention wanting something he’d 100% go out and grab it for you.

- He’s got major big brother vibes, do with that what you will.

- He gets involved in a lot of crazy shit so be prepared for some killer stories. He thinks its cute when you look worried for him.

- Constant compliments.

“Looking good.”

- Making fun of each other.

- Play arguing and punching.

- Tricking you into doing something suggestive; mostly when you’re alone, he doesnt want to completely embarrass you...or give his friends a free show.

- He admits he’s an asshole so be prepared. Although to be fair a lot of his asshole behavior is just a front. He’s actually really sweet once you get to know him, especially when you’re his girl/he likes you.

- He does think its kind of funny when you get mad at him...well it depends on how mad you get and how mad you stay. If you grumpily trudge off, rolling your eyes at him in front of his friends then he’ll probably laugh and joke with them.

- A lot of “oh come on babe it was just a joke!”

- It isn’t until you really stay mad that he no longer finds it as funny. He doesn’t like fighting with you but you always inevitably do. In a fight you’ll argue for a while before he tries to just end it as painlessly as possible. At that point he isnt even really sorry nor does he think you’ve settled things, he just doesnt want to fight anymore.

“Okay, okay,okay, alright, so-”.

- Sometimes his attempts to calm things really just backfire for him, like if you feel like he isn’t really listening and just trying to brush you off. It really depends on what you’d fight with him about.

- When you’re holding a grudge he’ll make jokes and bets with his friends, condescendingly saying how you “think you’re mad at him”. He says it himself: he’s an asshole. Although in these moments a lot of his asshole behavior is just him being spiteful because he’s hurt that you won’t talk to him.

- He does know how to apologize when he’s done something wrong or upset you. Like I said he’s usually really sweet even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes. It’s the reason you can come to forgive him especially during the “trial” part of your relationship (up next).

- He flirts too much, thats always been his problem, that and he’s sort of a hypocrite about it; he thinks he can flirt with other girls but you arent allowed to flirt with other guys. He doesn’t understand the injustice but after your first really big fight and subsequent breakup; most likely where he sees you go out with another guy, he finally learns his lesson.

- He’s a pretty coolheaded guy but he definitely doesn’t like people flirting with or having a thing for you even if he’s a playboy and would usually partake in the locker room talk with them. When you came along he was kind of like “Well I’ve finally settled down and I like this one a lot so back off.”.

- He gets a lot of girls coming after him so you’ll probably get a little jealous every now and again. He tries to assure you as best as he can that he isn’t interested in them.

- He’s a football player so there’s at least a little pent up aggression in him. He’s ready to bust a lip to get a guy off your back or stop him from trying to get with you.

- He wants that nuclear family type of future, with a nice house, picket fence, and son to play catch with in the yard. He never thought he’d imagine a future with a girl before but here he is, and he... kinda likes it.

- He’s definitely dropped a “Mrs. Dawson” on you after you teasingly called him Mr. Dawson. You’d just been trying to mess with him but then he had to go and make you all flustered and giddy.

- Dawson will probably go to college on a football scholarship. Before you came along he was planning on screwing a lot of chicks but now thinks “I’d be pissed if she screwed a guy while I was gone” and stops the temptation where it starts. He comes a long way during your relationship.

- I can see him proposing to you after he gets out of college and settles down with a nice job. He’d make a personal kind of special occasion out of the proposal, something that involves a sentimental part of your relationship.

#90s movie headcanons #90s imagine #dazed and confused x reader #dazed and confused imagine #dazed and confused headcanon #dazed and confused headcanons #dazed and confused #don dawson imagine #don dawson #don dawson headcanons #don dawson headcanon

[miraithislife]

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him. 

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.” 

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door. 

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”  

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing? 

What would he think of her if she did? 

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking. 

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled. 

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?” 

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?” 

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.” 

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly. 

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature. 

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory. 

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.” 

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.” 

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first. 

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell. 

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.” 

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.” 

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t. 

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!” 

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.” 

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch. 

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer. 

Her heart raced. 

There was so much she wanted to tell him. 

So much he needed to know. 

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible. 

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.” 

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--” 

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove. 

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why. 

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.” 

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks. 

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled. 

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.” 

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

#miraithislife #part3 #fanfic #mirageandwraith #miragexwraith #mirage #wraith #randomfluff #randomfluffs #love #cute #relationship #aww #miraith #fanfiction #apexlegends

[vaguely-concerned]

Some T.F./Graves thoughts from their bios

I realize what a dumb move it is to base uuuuh basically anything on lol bios, since riot apparently change those like other people do underwear, but if I’m not here to build my castles on sand what am I here for honestly  

- I LOVE the description of their first meeting, it’s such a meet cute lol... these two assholes really did just take one look at each other and mutually went ‘so is anyone gonna enter into a life-defining homoerotic partnership with this lying cheating bastard??’ and then neither of them waited for an answer 

- Though at times Twisted Fate would blow all their shares and leave them with nothing to show for it, Graves knew that the thrill of some new escapade was always just around the corner…

I am genuinely a little emotional about how obvious it is that at the end of the day the money really is secondary to him - what really drives him is how much FUN they have together. (he seems in general quite driven by that sense of Adventure; if it were just about the cash he had steady work in bilgewater before he took the trip over to the mainland as a kid) it’s like the part of ‘the road to el dorado’ in the boat except more sincere... ‘you made my life an adventure bro’ :’) 

(also very funny that graves’ bio is where you learn that t.f. doesn’t always win or get away with his shit hahaha, in his own bio it’s played like ‘oh gotta let people win once in a while to throw off suspicion’ flasdhfjsad. it’s mentioned he gets caught a lot more without graves watching his back too, which also gets me in my feelings a bit) 

- one thing I find interesting is that t.f.’s parents aren’t referenced directly at any point (the only family members mentioned specifically are his aunt and grandfather, I’m pretty sure). I’m wondering if they were already out of the picture somehow and that’s part of the reason no one spoke up for him? I mean it’s fucked up either way, I don’t know what’s worse; that his people found it so easy to exile him because he didn’t have anyone to protect him, or that his parents were alive and JUST LEFT HIM THERE. like what the fuck. from how it’s written it’s pretty clear he was still considered a child at the time too, so, y’know. (Graves is described as ‘little more than a youth’ when he headed for the mainland while T.F. seems to have been a kid when he started being on his own, so I’ve headcanoned something like 16-17 and 13-14 for their respective ages of leaving home, with both of them around 19 when they met) I’m quite curious about what kind of internal family politics were at work for them to apparently all agree -- or perhaps be too intimidated to disagree -- to exile a child for life with no recourse and no resources. like yeah okay he messed up but that’s some next level assholery to pull on a kid honestly, no wonder he grows up to have a bunch of abandonment and emotional intimacy issues (and presumably some prime survivor’s guilt as well. oh buddy) 

- eternally entertained by how much meeting t.f. is worded like the ‘how they met their spouse’ section of a wikipedia article in graves’ bio

Across one table, he met a deplorable fellow named Malcolm Graves is also *mwha* so good 

- for fic purposes I would just like to give a moment of thanks for the paragraph in graves’ bio that mentions a bunch of shenanigans they got up to back in the day, very useful thank you

- from what I understand t.f.’s exile-causing transgression has been changed quite recently from fighting back to running away, which I am so happy about because it makes a lot more psychological sense to me and makes graves’ words in ‘burning tides’ hit so much better.  

- I like that their individual descriptions of graves being captured are so indicative of how they each think about it -- namely t.f. doesn’t want to think about it (repress! repress! repress! very relatable) but probably has the more accurate view of it: The exact details of that night remain shrouded in mystery, for neither of them likes to speak of it—but Graves was taken alive, while Tobias and their other accomplices ran free, while graves does think about it but sort of still has his trauma goggles on for it: During a heist that rapidly turned from complex to completely botched, Graves was taken by the local enforcers, while Twisted Fate merely turned tail and abandoned him. t.f.’s is obfuscating and refusing to engage in the emotional aspect of it, graves’ is much more emotive in the language used, like ‘abandoned’. the lol bios often teeter awkwardly between straight biographies and wanting to dip into prose/flavour text, I must say I usually find them very clunky and unsatisfying, but this juxtaposition works for me.

sort of weird the details that don’t make it in, though -- like the fact that they’re both aware that miss fortune was the one who screwed them over in the whole gangplank Situation? (I love that part in ‘destiny and fate’ where graves is gamely like ‘yeah of course I’ve got a grudge against her but that was pretty metal too so y’know *shrug*’ haha)   

- it’s interesting how much t.f.’s uh connection I guess to the cards is almost described as some kind of... compulsion/unstoppable drive in the middle of his bio and then fades into the background towards the end (because his priorities have changed to repairing his marriage now that it’s an option and by god I support him in that). I really do wonder how his card magic actually works -- it’s a cool mix of extremely unsubtle and undeniable sorcery (straight up throwing fireballs around) and subtle (’hunches’, being ‘guided’, just knowing things he sort of shouldn’t), which seems to be where it started

also it seems like he can do it with just about any playing card he comes across? would be sort of weird if it’s the cards that are special, considering he keeps throwing them away and also I don’t know a lot about gambling but I distinctly imagine that casinos don’t let you use your own decks haha. and t.f. seemingly can’t do magic just on his own, without them. so it’s a thing that happens very specifically in relationship, when all the elements come together, symbiotically sort of thing? could he do magic without the cards but it’s how he’s trained himself to think of it so he doesn’t realize it (well I honestly doubt that but just for the thought experiment)? is there some sort of spirit behind those cards looking out for him? is it lady luck keeping an eye out for her favorite boy lol? we know this stuff can physically change the cards like when they showed the crown in ‘destiny and fate’, and he seems able to ‘prime’ a card with magic beforehand if ‘double-double cross’ is anything to go by, but even then mf can’t actually use or release it. hmmmmm many questions  

- the more of my long fic I write the more I am questioning what the fuck these two DO with all the money they steal -- like they’ve clearly pulled off some HUGE heists, surely it can’t all go into like drinks and cigars and fancy waistcoats and tf’s seemingly unending supply of playing cards

do they have like. a bunch of small caches of gold hidden away all across two continents in case of emergency? are their buried treasures the stuff of runeterran urban legend and people go out hunting for them? Have they invested this stuff in actual banks? (actually no I refuse to accept that as a possibility lol if nothing else this would make it hard to figure out if they were robbing THEMSELVES sometimes, sounds like a lot of hassle)

- His people had always waved away concerns over primitive magic and “cartomancy”, but now Tobias began to seek out ever more dangerous means to bend the cards to his will. 

I’m having a little bit of a hard time parsing this -- does this mean his people didn’t believe the cards were magic at all and he’s the only person he knows who can do it, or do they know but just don’t think can be dangerous??? I chose one particular interpretation for my fic, but I honestly can’t figure out what it’s actually meant to mean haha

- T.F. getting a special satisfaction from robbing people who are Assholes is a good character detail (his colour story really goes out of its way to show that the merchant he’s playing against is a real shitbag, for example); there is some lopsided form of righteousness/sense of justice there, I think. and it also ties in with why I like that his exile was because he ran away rather than because he resorted to violence -- there’s this underlying sense that he particularly enjoys outsmarting people who’re dickish to outsiders in precarious situations (like his people) so thoroughly that they don’t even realize it before he’s long gone, without ever having to even lay a finger on them, because that’s a way to fight back while staying out of reach when you come from relative powerlessness. There’s a... lack of malice, I guess, to both of them that I find quite endearing, you can see in Burning Tides that even at his most mindlessly vengeful Graves doesn’t actually enjoy being actively cruel. ‘mutual sense of roguish honor’ is RIGHT they’re bad men but not Bad men you get me  

- All in all, Twisted Fate is glad to have his old friend back, even if it might take another job or two—or ten—to restore their once easy partnership.

This probably means nothing because as I said the lol bios seem an endlessly shifting kaleidoscope of canon, but I think it’s so sweet that both of their last sentences/’where are they now’ statements are about them wanting to repair their partnership (and do some Cool Big Stuff together in graves’ case, I do wonder if that’s foreshadowing for the ruined king game or what)

#tf x graves #twistedgraves #league of legends #listen overwatch trained me well in trying to tease something like lore out of the smallest little crumb of detail I cannot be stopped