#<- actually now that i think of it i think i only know one john mccormack song too and its not even on that cd lol

[arachnidseyes]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

MEETINGS AND DEMONS

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Just a little prequel! Basically just how they met and how reader knows the batfam's secret identities. Enjoy!! wc: 1.4K. Full series

“This can't be right.”

But the magic trail can’t lie so it must be true. There’s something demonic hiding under Bruce Wayne’s Manor. Something big.

You’ve been following the trail for hours now after John told you to "Just pick a city and search." You could've argued with his very unimaginative way of getting rid of you but, unlike him, you happen to take your exorcist work seriously.

So, here you are, hands resting on your hips looking up at the imposing estate of the Wayne family. The trail goes right under the manor so maybe it’s in their basement?

You sigh heavily, there's no chance they’ll just let you in and you’re not very sneaky so you’ll have to do it the hard way.

Closing your eyes, you try to get a feel for where exactly the demonic energy is, which isn't so hard considering what a strong signature it is. It takes you half an hour and a couple of curse words but you eventually focus hard enough to teleport to where you think the energy is the strongest.

You look around, initially looking for your demon but getting completely sidetracked by wherever the hell you are. A huge cave is laid out before you, definitely not the basement. You only really have time to process the T-rex and giant penny before a grunt catches your attention.

Behind you stands a massive red beast, huge wings only adding to the imposing size of it. It's hollow eyes peer down at you, you look up at it in awe.

"Oh wow, aren't you handsome?"

The beast, a dragon bat, you recognise, leans in closer to have a good sniff at you. You reach up to scratch his chin and he chuffs, leaning further into your affections.

"Well, I definitely can't exercise you, huh?"

"No, you can't."

Before you even have time to register the voice, you’re shoved to the floor. You fall on your back and the wind is kicked out of your lungs. Your assailant presses your wrists into the cold ground and you find yourself staring up at-

"Robin?"

The boy downright growls and reels his hand back as if to punch you, you let off an almost instinctive magic blast that knocks him back a few feet.

It's the actual Robin, well one of them, there's like 4 or something? John says he stopped counting. You've seen Robin on the news, though you always thought he was older. And taller.

This boy looks around your age, maybe even a little younger. You've never heard of Robin wielding a katana either.

He swings the weapon at you, blocked by another magic shield, just like John showed you. Maybe forcing you to learn defensive magic first was a smart move because this guy looks like he's going for the kill.

“How did you find this place!”

He's acting like you've done something wrong. He must know the dragon bat, maybe he thinks it's his pet? The thought fills you with anger. You watch him hit your shield with scary fast attacks,

“Do you even know what he is? You can't just keep him like a pet!"

The boy finally stops trying to hit your barrier. Even through his domino mask you can see the blazing anger in his expression.

“He likes the cave.”

He says definitively. You look over at the demonic beast, who's been watching with idle interest. He does look rather healthy, he's very big so that means he's well fed and his fur is soft so he's also well groomed.

You cross your arms, not really prepared for this situation at all but you try very hard to pretend anyway.

“Look, dragon bats are extremely rare and there's just no way you-”

“I've taken care of him since he was a pup, I know what he needs, he wants to stay with me.”

Goliath huffs in presumed agreement. You huff too. Why must everything be so difficult.

“I can't let you keep him.”

Robin drops into a defensive stance, katana shining in the dim light of the cave.

“Try me.”

He tightens his hold on the handle and looks ready to pounce at any moment. You raise your hands, trying to decide what spell to use in this situation, maybe one of Zatanna's? No, that's too risky, maybe play it safe with-

You hear someone clearing their throat from behind you and all the tension falls limply in the air. You turn to the voice and almost piss yourself when you see the fucking Batman standing right behind you with his arms crossed and face stern like a scolding parent.

All you can do is stare blankly, Robin takes the opportunity to strike. You flinch, even though he hits nothing but the barrier between you.

“Father, this witch is trying to steal Goliath from me!”

“Robin. Stand down.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Robin growls in frustration, sheathes his katana and stomps towards the dragon bat, Goliath, to pet him on the head.

“What's your name?”

The softness in Batman's voice surprises you and you can only stutter out your name. He gives a little "Hmm" as if he already knew that. You try not to fidget with your coat too much as you look up at him but it's difficult, he's the goddamn Batman.

“Why do you want Goliath?”

“I'm supposed to collect demonic creatures so they can't make trouble in this realm.”

The words come out a little fast but you try to sound as confident as possible. Batman nods as if he knew that as well but Robin scoffs,

“Goliath is no threat. I trained him since he was a pup.”

“and what about his safety! His species is incredibly endangered!”

Damian looks away and down at Goliath, something in his expression shifts. He says, much quieter.

“I know that.”

You're not sure how you can tell but Batman's gaze softens, not enough for his presence to be any less intimidating but it definitely softens a little.

“What would we need to do in order to keep him?"

You both turn to Batman, Robin looks even more shocked than you. Your fingers are back in the loopholes of your coat, rocking on your heels as you struggle to respond. Batman must notice because he continues,

“These caves are massive and interconnected, there's enough room for him to fly around freely and he does so often. We have the means to look after him, guaranteeing food, safety and security. Is this enough?”

You look at Batman, then at Robin's smug grin, then back at Batman. A sigh leaves you. God, are you really going to argue with Batman? No, of course not, even if you'd really like to slap the smug grin off the little shit standing next to him.

Whatever, If John gets pissy about this then he can take it up with the literal Batman. You'd love to see that.

“Okay, fine. Sure.”

Robin grins over at his ‘father’, who gives a slight smile in return. Robin seems to notice his own reaction and schools his expression into something more tepid, though his joy is obvious with how he bounces on his toes. You look towards Goliath, happily sleeping away like his fate wasn't being decided.

“Okay, but I'll still have to put up a ward to mask his demonic energy, which is pretty strong. It’s just so nothing else can sniff him out and no demonic creatures are drawn in by him. Do you have a candle? Never mind, I have one. Making a ward that covers the entire cave system will be hard, John probably couldn’t do it but I can totally do it. Anyway-”

Robins shoulders slump forward as your needless mumbling continues, he looks towards his father again who is watching you like you’re a puzzle.

He definitely didn’t know Constantine had a child, much less a child with his abilities. Batman wonders if he should bring this up at all with the Brit, the thought alone gives him a headache. His attention is brought back to you when you turn towards him and ask,

“Does Bruce Wayne know you live under his house?”

Robin and Batman both freeze and side eye each other. Your exceptional detective skills only kick in right then.

“Oooooh.”

Robin clicks his tongue and Batman rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Uuuh, I won’t tell anyone. I swear. Not even John.”

“We have to kill her, father”

You tense up almost comically and Bruce doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. He decides on walking away in the opposite direction and muttering,

“If you could please get that ward up, We’ll discuss this later.”

You're left alone with the sleeping dragon bat and his owner, who watches you scornfully from where he sits next to the sleeping beast.

You sigh wearily, maybe you should've picked Metropolis instead of Gotham.

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[deeokanee]

I had a vision for a Voidwalker No Powers!AU

John is a divorced veteran, with severe PTSD and guilt about not being able to protect his best friend on the field, who knows he is the one to blame for how his marriage ended.

He's trying to get his life back together and the family court has just authorised him to have his son at his house unsupervised, hence he wants to make the crappy apartment he's renting as homely as possible for him.

So he goes to some store and buys whatever he thinks a three year old would need and like. The problem is, he's not been too involved in taking care of his son before, so he doesn't exactly know how to discern between things that are actually useful and absolute money grabbing crap.

So he swallows his pride and he looks for a shop assistant, to ask for some advice on what kind of baby car seat to buy, because he's losing his mind about the difference between a regular car seat and a booster seat.

And between the aisles, in his hideous bright yellow uniform t-shirt, he finds Bob, a recovering addict who just landed his first job after years of living on the streets and committing small crimes to survive.

Bob is definitely taken aback by the gorgeous, rough-looking and clearly exasperated man, who seems like he's seconds away from a murder spree, asking him "What the fuck am I supposed to get?" and "Why are these things made to make people feel dumb?"

But despite the initial confusion, he helps John the best he can.

"We also install those, if you need help." He informs the older man with a tentative smile, only to be met with a scoff.

"Help? I have been in the field, I don't need help to install a fucking car seat." John feels almost insulted at the suggestion and leaves the store absolutely convinced that he will have his car ready for his child in no time.

And yet there he is, on the evening before his son's first visit, having a full on rage meltdown, because he's so anxious about fucking things up again that he can't figure how to install that stupid car seat.

He's so freaked out he just drives to the store, despite it being closing time, and there he finds Bob, who has just lowered the rolling shutter and almost has a heart attack when John comes up behind him and demands to be helped with the seat.

Bob is terribly tired and cranky from his long shift and just wants to go back to his room in the apartment he shares with three other people —a taciturn woman, who barely left her own room, a Russian woman and her extremely loud father—, therefore he's dangerously close to tell this rude, insistent man to go fuck himself.

But then, between demands and cursing, John inadvertently cries out that "I won't ever see my kid again if I fuck this up." That's when Bob realises that the man in front of him isn't really an asshole, not only, but a complete nervous wreck.

Seeing John exhausted and on the verge of panic, Bob takes pity on him, and that's why he stays in that poorly lit parking lot, despite it being 10 pm now, to help the stranger. Or at least, try to.

"You said you installed those."

"I said we do it, I didn't say I do it, I've only been here for a week, man."

They spend like two hours struggling with the car seat, at some point Bob's sure John broke it, but in the end they miraculously figure it out. John is satisfied, but now that his agitation has gone down he feels ashamed of forcing a minimum wage worker to put up with him off the clock. And for all the obscene swearing he said during those two hours too.

"Get in, I'll buy you dinner, it's the least I can do for practically kidnapping you." He offers, to a stunned looking Bob, who seriously didn't expect any act of kindness in return from John.

Bob's stomach is growling loudly; he hasn't eaten anything since lunch, which consisted of a shitty frozen lasagna he tried to heat up in the break room's microwave. And the prospect of going out with a hot guy isn't so unpleasant either, so of course he accepts.

They end up in some fast food place and they stay there for a while, asking those questions you ask to someone you've just met and are strangely curious about.

And when they both are too tired to stay out any longer, John offers to drive Bob home, because what kind of dick would leave the person he bought dinner for to catch the metro at 4 AM?

Bob's jittery for the whole car ride, because of course he wants to find a way to see John again. He's definitely his type and surprisingly easy to talk too, once you get past the gruffy, intimidating façade. But he was married to a woman and nothing in their conversation suggested he could remotely be interested in men. This could end in a very harsh rejection, which definitely would make his recovery even more difficult than it already is.

But he does, against his better judgement, end up giving John his number, saying it's just "in case you need someone to talk to." He then adds hurriedly "About how it went with your kid", to make his proposition sound less significant.

John saves the number on his phone as Bobby —because that's what he automatically started calling the younger guy as soon as he had introduced himself, because it just made sense to him— and will definitely use it soon, to take up on Bob's offer.

He does need someone to talk to after all, and that someone's bashful, gentle smile and darting, intriguing eyes being weirdly stuck in his head have nothing to do with that.

Part 2

[dammit-tazmuir]

Oh Jod fucking dammit I am going to lose it. Do you wanna know what I just realized. Do you.

So all in all, Nona’s worth to the children was universally agreed to be minimal. She ranked very low among them, definitely below Honesty and Beautiful Ruby and only fractionally higher than Born in the Morning. The only person Born in the Morning outranked was the seven-year-old, who was just Kevin. Those were really all their names—even Kevin—but nobody ever told Nona why Hot Sauce was called Hot Sauce.

Nona loved to watch the moon tremble in front of the big broken hanging blueness in the sky, careless of it, while Honesty prised bullet casings out of holes in the walls and Kevin played with his dolls.

But Blood of Eden never cared if you had to go to school, or clean the whiteboards, or examine the psychodramas Kevin was playing out with two erasers that Born in the Morning had drawn faces on.

Nor had Pyrrha ever looked at her the way she now looked at the dead corpse with red hair—a kind of soft, guarded want; a hunger—a living desire to take the corpse in her arms like Kevin’s wanting desire with his dolls. To own, to squeeze, to cosset and destroy.

He paused and said: “But I was stressed, okay? I was insane. Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left … a handful of things that made me me … a couple scraps of id. It’s not fair to judge me, right? I didn’t do this thinking … I didn’t do it like art. When I was seven, you know, all Nana had to play with in her house was some of Mum’s old toys. And my favourite out of all of them…” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,” he murmured. “I loved her little gold outfit and her long yellow hair. She was the best. She got to have all the adventures.”

If I had a nickel for every time this series presented a seven year old boy with a painfully boring common name who notably loved playing dolls, with or without actual dolls to play with...

The smallest baby in Nona's gang being a parallel for the Necrolord Prime, the absolute picture of both what John used to be and how he's become the enemy of everything he used to be, is actually going to destroy me. Goodbye good night.

Literally not a single side character wasted in this series, every single one of them important, even Kevin...

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Okay so weird headcanon I have

Dick Learnt English young like really young despite traveling around. Right, except his parents never taught him. He learned bc one of the older folks at the circus has a tv (which John and Mary saw no point in bc what is a Grayson if not in constant motion staring at a box all day would be dreadfully boring)

Now the… slight issue with is? Well she was old

Like very old

And the shows she would watch would have been from when she was a young child

What I’m saying is Dick Grayson learned English through 40s tv shows and had a transatlantic accent and would say things like “gee” and “gosh” and “swell” and bc the rest of the circus were

A) not that well versed in English

B) far far far too charmed to ever correct him

Or

C) were well aware that an old timey accent added to the charm of the circus and brought it just that much more revenue

But you see the vision

“Boy oh boy I sure am excited to go out with you today!”

“Gee Gosh I hope I didn’t bug that poor kid”

???? ARE YOU SEEING MY VISION ????

Like everyone (including Bruce) thinks he’s putting it on until after his parents fall and Jim is like “kid you can drop the act no one is looking or listening it’s fine” and Dick states using his massive blue eyed that are very shiny with tears (should be considered a lethal weapon) and is like “oh well, what ever are could you speaking about” like he came out of the wizard of Oz

And like after he gets out of juvie he obviously got the accent beaten out of him but a few weeks living in a manor and he gets Robin and he starts to slip

And oh my days

Alfred is just. So. Charmed. By. The. Tiny. Young. Master. And. His. Little. Accent

It’s so perfectly quaint like it came out of a movie from the 40s

Dick doesn’t say go to the movies he says let’s see a picture

And like no one, not even Babs is aware that his og accent is literally a tv accent from the fifties. The only people who know are Bruce, Alfred, Clark, Lois, Selina and Diana.

Clark and Lois find out together bc Bruce drops Dick off at Clark’s bc he has a date a fight scheduled with Talia and like he can’t bring Dick bc they will fight. Just fight. Okay Alfred. Geez

Anyway Clark immediately goes “gee gosh Dick it’s great ta meetcha” bc Christopher Reeve was my Clark Kent for too long for it to not be and Dick immediately latches on to the familiar speech tone and replies to Clark with an equally antiquated expression with stars in his eyes.

And Bruce has to explain “no he isn’t mocking Clark, he came this way bye” before jetting off to FIGHT Talia that’s what they’re doing yep.

And Lois has to sit there and watch as these two people who talk like the movies her grandparents watch excitedly circle each other like a giant malamute and a Pomeranian becoming friends

It’s both horrifying to her sensibilities and inexplicably adorable.

Diana has a similar story but Lois isn’t there for comedic effect

And Selina well I like to think Selina puts on the like “old timey accent” whenever she’s being flirty to get away from stealing something like “oh dear, you think it was lil ole me who took that well I never” she’d do it

But like post baby Grayson acquisition she does it and Bruce like winces and is like “please don’t remind me of my son rn” and Selina is like????????? And Bruce/batman has to explain that Robins actually unironically deadest of asses has a transatlantic accent and

Selina to this day has never heard it but the sheer horror in Bruce’s face whenever she pulls it out is enough for her to buy it

Also side note

Donna Troy also knows lol

[odearly]

ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

me and her, we'll kick your ass

song 9: becky by be your own pet

rafe x maybank!reader

summary: surf day with the pogues makes you realize who's side rafe is truly on.

══════════════════════

The day after a storm was always a day with a perfect swell, and to the pogues that was just as good as gold. A perfect day to surf was a need, and it definitely meant it was time to bring your board out of retirement.

Pope was hellbent on finding the meaning behind the translation of the amulet. The rest of the pogues were ready to surf, though and you weren't passing up a beach day.

You guys loaded up into the twinkie and were of to the beach. The beach you guys were at was pretty much secluded until.. the kooks pull up.

Great. You thought to yourself, now you had to deal with all of that now. Then you saw Rafe, he glanced at you with a small smile and a wave.

You didn't wave back, and but his smile didn't falter. He figured you wouldn't be too interactive around your friends but he really wanted to talk to you.

Then Sofia walked up to him, trying to flirt but he mostly just ignored it, staring right behind her at you. You noticed, obviously but then he looked away when Topper walked up to John B with a tense look.

You sighed and pulled your surfboard off the twinkie and walked past Sarah to go surf. You didn't give a shit that the kooks were here, you'd already incriminated yourself around them plenty, so whats some more.

JJ ran up behind you after he saw Topper and John B come to an agreement, a truce. You gave your brother a high five before you both ran into grab a wave.

Rafe's eyes were on you the entire time you were on the board. You were an amazing surfer, he definitely gave you that. Still are an amazing surfer and you looked beautiful doing it.

You flew over waves like god or something walking on water. You used to love surfing so much, but it had been so long since you did it. You didn't expect to do so well after 4 years without surfing.

Sofia waved her hand in front of his eyes when he stared for too long, "Hello? What are you looking at?" She glanced behind herself immediately seeing you surfing into shore with a bright smile on your face.

"Oh." She said with an eyeroll and walked off, getting the hint immediately. Rafe just smirked to himself and walked over to you walking up to the twinkie.

"Hey stranger." He said, leaning against John B's car.

"Brave of you to come over here, kook." You challenged, unlatching the ankle band attached to your surfboard.

"Just wanted to tell you I think you're probably the best surfer here." He smiled at you, watching you intently as you stood up with your surfboard under your arm.

"Probably? Definitely." You were glancing around to see if anyone was watching you two talk. Only the kooks and you really didn't give a shit about what they thought.

"Your friends are watching." You said, glancing at Topper and Ruthie's peircing gaze. Topper was getting ready to surf and Ruthie was sipping her expensive cocktail or whatever the fuck it is she does.

Rafe shrugged, not even glancing at them his eyes were glued on you. "I don't care what they think."

"Well I care about what my friends think, lets go talk over here." You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the edge of the beach where no one was really paying attention.

You noticed your brother surfing around, taking turns with the kooks actually. Maybe he wasn't a total asshole douche.

"Scared your friends won't like me?" Rafe was teasing you, trying to be funny.

"I know they don't like you, you're lucky I do." You retorted and smiled as you looked anywhere but at him.

"Oh you like me? Wow I really am lucky." Rafe with a grim from ear to ear.

"Don't get a ego, that can change at any moment."

"Wait.. what's he doing?" He suddenly looked at the water, his eyebrows furrowing.

You followed his gaze to the waves to see your idiot brother cutting off Topper on a wave. You stood up immediately, as Topper yelled at John B.

You heard Rafe mutter something about how your brother needs to wait his turn and you scoffed at his audacity, but then you stormed off to go tell your brother the same shit.

Topper was angry, so was Ruthie, that much was clear. You made sure your brother was okay, and scolded him for being an asshole even if Topper is also an asshole.

The pogues decided to go ahead and go home after that so they could avoid issues with the kooks for today. You all had bigger problems with the treasure hunt.

You guys were starting to load up to go home, "Guys there's a turtle hatch!" Kiara yelled, running towards the patch of sand where baby turtles were crawling out. Everyone ran over, looking in awe and surprise.

Kiara was overjoyed, laughing and smiling at the little guys. They are truly adorable and you all try not to touch them as they crawl towards the water. "Wait we gotta make a path right?" John B asked after Kie mentioned giving them space.

The pogues tried to clear the way for the turtles the get through the sand. Make sure no segulls got them were what you and Sarah looked around for.

The pogues wholesome turtle hatch was interrupted though, by a wild Ruthie speeding down the beach in Toppers jeep.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you saw them driving closer, pointing to them. "Hey, kooks 12 o' clock. They're going fast."

Kie turned around and sprung up from the ground. Her hands shot up, waving them around and yelling about the turtle hatch going on behind them. "Hey! Hey, stop theres a hatch!"

You ran up beside Kie now, "Yo! Turtles are crossing, go around!" you are yelling as well and motioning to go around.

"STOP!"

Kie and JJ dived at the last second but you felt the first spark of pure angry run through your veins. They actually almost ran over Kie and your brother. You weren't letting that shit slide.

You watched Ruthie turn around, drifting to drive back through you guys.

They started speeding back into you guys, Kiara continued screaming about the hatch and you saw Ruthie throw her drink onto Kiara as they drove by.

You felt your sanity snap, and you cracked your knuckles jogging straight to the other side of the beach. Rafe saw you, his eyes widening.

Kooks were staring, one pulled their phone up to record. "Here she comes guys, on a warpath!" Kelce yelled as the car rolled into park Yeah, you were on a warpath. You don't play when it comes to your family.

JJ ran after you, trying to tell you this wasn't worth it but you didn't really hear a word he was saying. You just shoved him away and continued going.

Kie followed closely behind you two as she picked up the turtle they ran over. You didn't give a shit about the turtle though quite honestly. They tried to kill your friends.

You started running faster to snatch her out of her Jeep. The second the door opened you grabbed Ruthie by her hair and pulled her into the sand. "You think I wouldn't beat your ass bitch? ARE YOU STUPID?"

You threw her to the ground, punching her as she tried to punch back but she failed when you pinned her arms to the ground. After a couple hits Topper is running over to Ruthie yelling at you and you feel strong arms pulling you away.

You kicked and tried to hit the person pulling you away before they dropped you a couple feet away and you see it's Rafe.

Your eyes immediately narrowed onto a Ruthie getting held by Topper with a bruised eye and bleeding lip. She could see you and you sent her a dark look, making sure she knew not to fuck with your people.

Rafe grabbed your chin to make you look at him and then you realized he'd been talking to you the whole time.

"What?" You asked, you completely didn't hear a thing he said.

"I said you can't just attack random people." Rafe repeated his eyes widening slightly, and his hands moving around.

You scoffed and shook your head. "Fuck that, she's not a random person. She's Ruthie, it was her time to get her ass beat."

Rafe furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm saying you can't just going around beating up my friends."

You scrunched your face in disgust immediately at that, glaring at him now. "They're your friends? What happened to 'i don't care what they think'? You really want to call them friends after they just almost KILLED mine?"

You stood up immediately, and brushed off the sand on your bikini. "Fuck this shit." You motioned to all of his 'friends' and walked away, not letting him explain himself at all.

You had already made up your mind.

You understand now, no matter what happens there will always be a rift between your lifestyles. You know who he's loyal to and thats not you or your family.

══════════════════════

══════════════════════

The twinkie pulled back into the station to a much darker atmosphere. Kiara was complaining to JJ while you couldn't get your mind off of how betrayed you felt by Rafe.

They all walked closer to the entrance of Poguelandia when you're the first person to snap out of your trance and realize pope has blood on his hands. You furrowed your eyebrows and sped up your pace. "Pope? Are you okay?"

The rest of the pogues were finally catching up to speed now, "What is that?" Kiara asked walking up to him. "Is that blood?"

"Pope whose blood is that?!" Kiara asked urgently. You just looked at his face, trying to read him to understand what the hell was happening.

JJ walked closer, shaking him feverishly. "Pope what happened?" He kept repeating.

"Wheres cleo?" Sarah asked and Pope finally spoke, "Shes--she's inside."

We all ran past Pope, to go into poguelandia to get some clarity. Kiara and Sarah were calling out for Cleo.

A larger set guy was lying on the floor, dead and bleeding from his abdomen. Cleo said his name was Terrance.

Just as you guys were trying to wrap your head around this, Shoupe pulls up to the house. Everyones eyes went wide, immediately knowing they NEEDED to hide this body.

"Oh shit." You said and ran to get Pope and John B urgently. "Big problem, Shoupe's here." And ran back inside to help figure out what the fuck to do.

Everyone was freaking out, JJ and you were glancing around for places to hide him. Kiara was spilling something about being honest, like they'd believe us?

Thats when you heard Shoupe knocking on the door, yelling. "JJ! Y/N! Anyone home?"

You pointed at the couch. "Hide it, now. If you all want to get out of this, the best bet for now is to hide it."

JJ ran up to John B, "Okay, I need you to make a decision right now."

John B was speechless, completely unsure what to do. This went way to far this time. "What's it gonna be?" JJ said more urgently."

"Hide the body." John B said finally. Everyone scrambled to grab the body and started to move the couch to put him behind it.

Kiara grabbed the skateboard to set him on, to avoid smearing the blood everywhere. As they started to pour bleach on the floors, you and your brother decided to go out and talk to Shoupe to distract him.

"Yo, Shoupe, over here!" You yelled as you hopped down the steps like you didn't just encounter a dead body. JJ was more serious but still didn't let it show that he was mortified.

Shoupe walked around to the back and you and JJ were standing by the tree as JJ messed with his bike.

"There they are." Shoupe called out, walking closer to you two. "Listen, I don't have time for ya'll's bullshit. Caught wind of shenanigans, between the both of you. Not that that's anything new."

"Shenanigans? Oh no." You said sarcastically, as you started to walk in a different direction beside JJ.

Shoupe sighed and continued. "Thought you, uh, might want to share your side of the story."

"Oh. We don't know what you're talking about." JJ said confidently, still walking. "No idea, huh?" Shoupe eyed you now.

"No. No. No idea at all." You said in the same tone.

Shoupe slapped a mosquito on his neck. "Can we go inside? I'm getting eaten up out here."

JJ pointed at the surf shop, "Oh, you haven't seen the new addition. I should give you a quick tour actually." Your lips quirked up at his stupid suggestion.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but you need to stop playing around. This is serious. We need to clear this shit up." Shoupe said with an attitude in his chest.

You sighed, turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. "Shoupe, do you have a warrant or something?"

Shoupe shook his head. "No, and I don't wanna have to get one. Let's go in and talk."

You nodded and started walking towards the house. "Alright, if you just hate the outdoors so much."

You three walked in and everyone tried to act as normal as possible. Just laying down or 'hanging out' as John B suspiciously said.

"The gangs all here. Ya'll to high to hear me knocking?" Shoupe said with his attitude again.

Kiara shrugged and tried to keep her face straight. "It's just been a long day."

Shoupe got straight to business. "Everybody mind clearing out for a minute and letting me talk to them alone?"

"Yeah, yeah, no problem, Shoupe." John B said as everyone cleared out of the house.

You sat down on the couch, throwing a couple pillows off the couch to where you could see Terrance's head and laid back. JJ sat beside you and did the same.

Shoupe pulled up a chair and looked at you both intently. JJ was impatient though, "Let's just make it quick, you know? Ticktock."

You kicked him in the leg because not only is that suspicious it could also be the difference between jail and freedom right now, depending on what he's here for.

Shoupe pulled out his phone, showing it to you. "Take a gander." It was a video of you beating the shit out of Ruthie when she almost ran over your brother. "That you?"

You nodded quietly, glaring at him harshly. "I bet they didn't record the part where Ruthie almost ran JJ and Kiara over though, right?"

"You seriously injured Ruthie, she claims she has a broken nose." Shoupe said, you knew that shit was a lie. You had avoided her nose.

"It was self defense, Shoupe! She almost killed my brother!" JJ nodded along, agreeing with everything silently. He knew better than to speak on something you did to the cops.

"So many parents have been calling me." Shoupe said with a grumble, then he turned to JJ. "Oh, and I also got a report from the ER. They're saying you vandalized a hyperbaric chamber. What the hell is that?"

"That was a huge misunderstanding, because they kept me in there for far too long, okay?" JJ finally spoke up.

"I was cooked like a chicken, like, uh.. there's the Improper Patient Care for a Patient Act, where it, like protects me from--" JJ rambled on about not shit

"Just stop." Shoupe interrupted him. "Stop. I don't want to charge either of you for this shit, but i'm gonna need you to help me on something."

Shoupe pulled out a few pictures from his pocket, handing them to you and JJ. "Take a look at these. You know anything about him?"

JJ and you looked at them with furrowed eyebrows, it was a guy you'd never seen before with a marking that you thought seemed familiar but you couldn't place it.

You shook your head in sync with JJ. "No." You both said.

Shoupe gave you a look and you shook your head again. "No, seriously, I have never seen this guy a day in my life."

JJ handed the photos back and you were quick to catch it, handing it to Shoupe. Nice save.

JJ stood up quickly. "Is that it? 'No further questions, officer?'"

Shoupe shook his head. "Actually, come to think of it, there is something else."

"Listen, just between us.. we're looking into the cause of death for Wes Genrette."

"For Wes?" JJ furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he obviously just died from old people stuff.

"So what were you two doing on Saturday night?" Shoupe dropped the final question.

You thought for a second while JJ mentioned something about being at poguelandia. "We were here. We made a campfire, uh, fried a fish up, and then we... put on some tunes, sang some songs." You nodded in agreement.

"Cooking up fish and singing songs?" Shoupe said suspiciously. "Yup. That was it." You replied.

"All right. That's all I needed from you." Shoupe said, mentioning something about being honest which you laughed at after he had gotten into his car.

══════════════════════

[gennemi]

𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝒀𝑶𝑼

Request: can I please request John Murphy smut?? 😚😚 that y/n being the only person on camp who actually likes him and she’s the only one who spends time with him and she talks to him about how he gotta be more nice so the others will like him as well, but he doesn’t give a fuck and tells her he doesn’t need anyone else since he has her and then they yk 😆😆

Requested by: @ang3licbabydolly

A/N: sorry this took forever! I hope you enjoy it! And I hope it's what you wanted as well! ❤✨

Contains: smut, minors dni, p in v, unprotected, John being John

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

It starts the way it always does: you find him alone.

The rest of camp avoids him like a curse that might spread by accident. But you’ve never been afraid of John Murphy. Maybe you should be — but there’s something about the sharp edge in his eyes, the way his jaw sets like he’s bracing for another punch, that makes your chest ache instead.

He’s sitting on a log near the dying fire, knees apart, elbows resting on them, gaze fixed on the flames like they might give him answers no one else will.

You drop down beside him, shoulder brushing him. “Hey.”

He glances at you, and for a second, the hardness softens. “Hey,” he mutters.

“You know,” you say carefully, “if you’d just be a little nicer, they might actually try to like you.”

His head turns fully toward you now, brows lifting like he can’t believe you’re serious. “You think I give a fuck if they like me?”

“I think you do, a little,” you tease, but there’s a softness in your voice. You know he does.

“I don’t,” he snaps back, too fast. But then, quieter, his gaze drops to your lips. “I don’t need them.”

“Murphy…”

His voice drops, gravel rough. “I don’t need them because I have you. And that’s enough.”

Your breath catches. Before you can answer, his hand comes up, thumb brushing your jaw, and then his mouth is on yours — hard, hungry, almost angry.

You gasp into the kiss, hands flying to his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric. He tastes like desperation and something sweeter underneath, something only you ever get to see.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to breathe. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“Then do something about it,” you whisper, eyes half-lidded.

That’s all it takes.

He surges forward, pushing you back onto the ground. The forest floor is cold, but his body is a furnace above you. His hands roam your sides, tugging at your clothes, peeling your shirt off over your head.

“Look at you,” he rasps, voice shaking with need as his gaze rakes over your bare skin. “All fucking mine.”

Your answer is a shaky moan as his mouth finds your collarbone, sucking a bruise there like a brand.

“You don’t care what they think of you,” you manage to breathe out.

“Only care what you think,” he growls. His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing your nipple until it pebbles under his touch. “And you want me like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

He smiles, a wicked, broken thing. “Good.”

His kisses trail lower, mouth hot and open against your stomach, teeth nipping, tongue soothing. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently.

“Murphy—”

“Say it,” he mutters against your skin. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, hips lifting involuntarily toward him.

“Only mine.”

“Only yours,” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He shoves his own shirt off, muscles taut, scars catching the moonlight. His pants are gone in seconds, yours too, and then his cock is hot and heavy against your thigh, precum smearing across your skin.

“Need you so bad,” he rasps, lining himself up. “Been needing you all fucking day.”

When he pushes inside, it’s fast, rough, desperate. Your back arches, a strangled moan leaving your lips as he fills you to the hilt.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. “So tight around me… fuck—”

His thrusts start slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him, then get rougher, faster, until you’re gasping under him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Murphy—John—”

“Say my name again,” he pants, voice cracking. “Want to hear you say it while I fuck you.”

“John,” you whimper, over and over, each thrust forcing the word from your lips.

“Mine,” he grits out, hips snapping harder. “Only fucking mine.”

Your walls clench around him, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it’s blinding.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he snarls, hand sliding down to rub your clit in tight circles. “Come for me. Fucking come on my cock.”

You shatter under him, the orgasm crashing through you like a wave, pulling him under with you. His rhythm falters, and then he’s coming too, spilling inside you with a strangled moan, hips grinding deep as he milks every last pulse.

When it’s over, he collapses on top of you, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin.

For a moment, there’s silence except for your ragged breathing. His forehead rests against yours, eyes closed, lashes damp.

“I meant it,” he whispers hoarsely. “I don’t need them. Just you.”

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “And you have me,” you whisper back.

Slowly, he lifts his head, gaze soft, vulnerable. And then — just for you — he smiles.

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

[enyalius]

John Walker's Healing Era (II.)

Is John Walker... Wholesome Now?

Tuesday: Dog Walking @ Liberty Paws, 10 AM.

pairing: john walker / robert 'bob' reynolds. voidwalker. sentryagent author's note: hey so this took an embarrassing amount of time to write and it's way longer than i expected it to be. at least bob's here now! huzzah! hope y'all enjoy!

crossposted on ao3 | chapter one

John could barely get out of his pickup truck before the cameras are in his face. Paparazzi, local press, some onlookers across the street with their phones already recording. He’s not exactly dressed his best, he’s just in a blue henley that’s been stretched in the wash and a pair of jeans. He puts on a worn baseball cap to shield himself from the camera flashes.

Mel didn’t explicitly say there’d be press, but he should have expected it anyway. He’s never going to have a peaceful moment when he’s John Walker out on the sidewalk in Manhattan. But it makes this whole thing look disingenuous, like he’s only here for a marketing strat to fix his image, not because he actually wants to help.

Which—okay, yeah, he is here to fix his image. That’s the whole plan. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He’d do this in his free time, even if Mel wasn’t making him. Maybe.

John gives the cameras a strained smile and a half-hearted wave nonetheless.

The shelter inside smells like wet fur, kibbles, and a tang of ammonia from mopped-up dog piss. The camera shutters and flashes from outside, combined with the incessant barking inside, make for an incredibly overstimulating experience so far.

At the front desk is a lady organizing a bunch of papers. Rina, as it says on her nametag, carries herself with the exhaustion of someone who’s definitely underpaid and overworked, and probably questioning her entire vocation.

“Hi, ma’am, I’m here to… volunteer?” he phrases it more like a question, raising his voice a bit to speak over the barking. “I’m John Walker.”

Rina looks up and her eyes glaze over with recognition, but without any of the starstruck aspect. In fact, she looks like she couldn’t care less. “I know who you are, sir. Just a moment, please.” she gives him a perfect customer-service-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

She squares up the stack of papers, sets them aside, and takes a pen to twist her hair up into a bun. She stands from her seat. “Follow me, I’ll show you around.”

The barking only gets louder as Rina leads John through a room lined with kennel fences. Dogs of all shapes and sizes throw themselves at the bars of their enclosure, tails wagging like crazy or standing stiff with warning.

“Your application says you signed for dog walking duty, so that’s what we’ll be doing today. Normally we walk them in packs of up to four, but since you’ve never done this before, you’re just getting one dog.”

She’s a bit hard to follow over the sound of the barking. John nods anyway and scratches his brow. “Yeah, no, that sounds good.”

“One of our guys is just giving him a shower before you two leave.”

From the back room, there’s the sound of running water from a hose. There’s some clamor, too, like someone trying to wrangle a dog. “Bravo, c’mon, sit! Just stay still! What are you—wait, don’t jump—Bravo!”

A soaking wet black Labrador bursts out of a side door, tail wagging and flicking water everywhere. The dog bolts straight for John and leaps up on his jeans, two soapy paws on his thighs. “Woah, hey! Easy there, buddy!”

“Well, there he is,” Rina sighs. “I thought you had it handled, Bob.”

“I did! But I think he heard the new guy so he got really—Walker?”

John’s head shoots up, his eyebrows furrowing as he recognizes the sound of that voice. It’s actually Bob. Like, the Bob Reynolds. He’s in a drenched grey hoodie and sweatpants, a leash tangled around one wrist, and a sponge held in the other. “Bob?”

Rina blinks between them. “You two know each other?”

They both scramble to respond. John can’t say that Bob’s technically a New Avenger yet.

“We, uh—worked together before, and we’re sort of neighbors?” “No, yeah, soccer. Peewee league, like way back.”

But whatever explanation they have is easily drowned out over all the barking. Whatever it was, Rina doesn’t care. She shrugs. 

“Okay. That’s great. Bob, take over, please? Mr. Walker’s on dog walking.”

She disappears down the hallway and returns to the front desk like she’s regretting ever clocking in to work today. That leaves Bob, John, a dozen barking dogs, and Bravo, who’s focused on making a good impression on the new guy.

John clears his throat and scratches behind the wet dog’s ears. Bob shifts his weight and gets all slouchy, like he usually does when he’s expecting Walker to say some snarky remark. “We got a one-day volunteer application from a VIP the other day, they didn’t tell me who it was. I-I didn’t know it’d be you.”

“Did Mel put you up to this, too?”

Bob shakes his head in confusion and reaches for the purple towel draped on his shoulder. He wipes away a fleck of soap from his eyebrow. “Mel? No, no. I work here, part-time. I started maybe three weeks ago? Yelena said being around animals might be good for me.”

The brunet’s hair is slicked back in wet curls. The sleeves of his hoodie are pulled up to his forearms. John’s thinking, he looks good in this, before he shuts that train of thought down immediately. Good, as in, regular-civilian good. Like, guy-who-has-his-shit-together good (and other excuses John is telling himself).

He almost forgets he’s supposed to respond. “Oh. Yeah. Good for you, man.”

Technically Bob is living as a civilian. Valentina opted to keep his Sentry identity under wraps for now, ever since the Void incident five months ago and Bob hasn’t been able to control his powers very well yet. But living a fairly normal life seems better for Bob anyway. He’s the only one out of the team that can go out of the Watchtower and go to a Whole Foods without somehow triggering Twitter (or X, whatever it’s calling itself nowadays).

And having a job explains why he’s gone on Tuesdays and Thursdays (ahem, not that John is keeping track). It doesn’t explain, though, why Yelena gets so cagey every time John tries to ask about Bob.

“Hey, you seen Bob today?”

“Nope.”

“Really? I thought maybe he’d be with you.”

“He’s probably out.”

“Out? What would he need to go out for?"

“Because he’s a normal human being, Walker, I don’t know. People go places, they do things outside. You should try it sometime.”

“For the record, I do go outside—”

“The balcony does not count. Neither does the missions.”

“—whatever! I just wanna know where he is, Lena.”

“Since when have you been taking attendance?”

“God forbid I wanna know where our friend is, so I could ask if he wanted to get lunch.”

“You? Lunch? With Bob?”

“Yeah. Lunch. You guys don’t have that in Russia?”

“Ugh. I genuinely don’t know where Bob is, Walker. But wherever he is, he’s fine.”

…So that must have been a lie. John returns to the present with the thought ask Yelena why she’s being weird at the back of his mental to-do list. 

Bob crouches down in front of Bravo and clips a collar and leash around the dog’s neck. “Sorry about Bravo. He just gets really excited about new people coming in. I’ll just dry him off, then we can get him ready.”

John learns that there’s a lot more to dog walking than just walking a dog. Bob runs him through the basics: leash safety, dog reactions, treat discipline. Apparently he has to keep Bravo on a short leash around other dogs, because the lab gets too excited it’ll overwhelm the poor guys.

John is given a tacky-looking Liberty Paws-branded fanny pack containing poo bags and some treats, which John refuses to wear properly and slings it cross-body like it’s a tactical pouch.

Bob’s already leashed up three dogs—a feisty chihuahua named Peaches, a very regal-looking Dachshund named Frankie (short for Franklin), and a Jack Russell named Charlie that looks just about ready to go.

“You sure about that?” John asks, eyeing the dogs. “I could hold one of them, so we’re both holding two.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve walked them before. I got this handled.” Bob’s trying to untangle the three leashes from one another. It doesn’t look like he has it handled, but John shrugs and leaves it be. Bob probably knows these dogs better than he does.

“Suit yourself.”

Outside, it’s a circus. Poor Bob’s like a deer in twinkling headlights. There’s cameras, phones, people calling out for John and yelling questions at him. Luckily, the ever-so-friendly Bravo doesn’t seem to mind, but Bob’s dogs are getting a bit skittish at the crowd.

John takes matters into his own hands. He shields Bob away from the flashes and waves the photographers and press people away. “Alright, back it up, people. You’re scaring the dogs, c’mon.”

Some of the crowd is warded off, but the lenses never stop tracking them even from a distance. Bob clutches the leashes a little tighter, half-concealed behind John’s broader frame.

“It’s fine. They’ll run out of things to take photos of eventually.” John mutters.

They start down the block, with Bravo leading the charge with his nose to the ground, sniffing every tree and lamp post. Every vertical structure seems to smell so interesting to this guy.

Bob keeps glancing over his shoulder, still visibly uncomfortable with the cameras. His attention is being pulled away from the dogs, because it looks like the press might just follow them all the way to Central Park.

“As far as they know, Bob, you’re just a regular guy. It’s me that they want a photo of, you’ll be fine.” John nudges Bob, and that seems to bring him back to the current. They cross the street and some of the photographers are already dispersing by the time they reach the end of the block.

“Are you used to all this?” Bob says, catching up to walk beside John. Charlie seems particularly interested in Bravo, sniffing around and mimicking the lab’s every move like a little brother.

“I mean, I had a golden retriever when I was a kid. I walked her all the time.”

“The paparazzi, Walker.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Then no, not really. But this is a bit better than the death threats. No one’s asked me why a war criminal’s part of the New Avengers yet.”

It comes out a bit more self-hating than he means. The joke, if you could call it one, doesn’t land on Bob. The never do. He just gives John this quietly sympathetic, pitying look, almost like a wince. It’s the same look Bob gave him at the Vault, after John slipped into the Void for a few seconds. Now there’s just a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

Bob tugs Frankie away from a wet puddle. “...I don’t think I could do it. Live under the spotlight like that.”

Bob’s had his life literally end and restart a couple of times throughout his life; and in a way, John has, too. They’re both still trying to be a functional member of society again after being an experimented-on drug-addict, in Bob’s case, and working in covert ops and going under the radar, in John’s case. 

But doing it all in the watchful eye of the world doesn’t really bode too well.

The blond shrugs. “It comes with the job, I guess. But I think out of all of us, you’d be a bit more suited for PR.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, Alexei’s too obsessed with finding fans at the grocery store, Ava goes ghost before anyone gets to her, Bucky’s really bad at interviews, Yelena—she holds herself pretty well, actually. I’m… me. And you’re nice.”

“Nice?” Bob says like he’s in disbelief that it’s coming from John Walker, of all people.

“Yeah. Like, you’re not going to yell at a reporter or throw a trash bag at them. You’re honest.”

“Wait. You’ve done that?”

“You never saw the clip? It was all over r/PublicFreakout at the time…”

By the time they make it to Central Park, most of the press has waned out. There’s still a few randoms who recognize John but don’t come up to ask for a photo, preferring to sneak one instead, thinking it’s not too obvious. But it’s nothing they can’t ignore.

The dogs are excited to hit the grass. Charlie and Bravo are trying to chase a group of pigeons, Frankie is very focused on finding himself a pooping spot, and Peaches is barking at anything that’s moving up on the trees. They’re all still a bit manageable, even if they’re pulling in different directions.

Bob and John settle on a bench under the shade of a tree, bit of a ways away from the joggers and kids playing around. Peaches hops up onto the bench beside Bob, her dainty paws clicking on the metal slats. She raises her chin with a sense of regality, like this random bench in Central Park she’s sitting on is the actual Queen’s throne.

John stretches his legs out and spots an ice cream truck in the distance, bright pink and teal with a bit of a crowd starting to surround it. “Hey, you want something? Ice cream, hot dog?” he nods towards it. “My treat.”

Bob perks up from his slouch and the dogs react too, their heads tilted at the word ‘treat’. “Really? Uh, sure. I haven’t had ice cream in a while.”

He probably hasn’t had many things since he woke up in that vault with potentially world-ending superpowers.

“Name your poison. I’m guessing you’re not a plain vanilla kinda guy.” John stands and tugs Bravo up to come along with him.

“Mint chocolate chip, if they have it.”

John squints at Bob. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No, as in, you’re not getting that.”

“What, why? It’s my favorite!”

“Yeah, well, your favorite is literally toothpaste, Bob. Did nine-out-of-ten dentists recommend you that one?”

Bob pouts. “It’s a comfort flavor. I was stoned with my ex one time and it was all his parents had in the fridge. It’s not that bad.”

Bob’s ex. His parents. A guy. Bob’s had a boyfriend. Cool. No, yeah, that’s fine. 

John pretends not to react to that sudden load of information and plays up the bit by rolling his eyes and grimacing. “Fine. I’ll be back.”

John walks off toward the truck with Bravo in tow, still shaking his head.

The line isn’t long, but it gives John a moment to glance over his shoulder once he’s walked a bit further. He sees Bob squinting up at the sky, looking up at the buildings. Peaches is now sitting on his lap. Charlie and Frankie lie down next to each other on the bench, watching the joggers pass by from afar.

It’s nice to see Bob taking it slow, when he’s never had it this easy before.

John ends up ordering a simple and classic vanilla for himself and the infamous mint chocolate chip for Bob, which the vendor tops with extra sprinkles and a little blue umbrella. John’s about to ask why he didn’t get any sprinkles and an umbrella, but doing that as a grown ass man probably isn’t a very good look on him. So he holds his tongue.

“Here,” he says once he’s back, sitting on the bench next to Bob and holding out the decorated cone. “Your Colgate with chocolate, as requested.”

Peaches is standing on her hind legs now, distracted and barking at a squirrel she spotted up on the trees. Bob is trying to rein her in, but Charlie and Frankie soon join her from underneath. He’s trying to take the cone while simultaneously managing all the leashes getting tangled up in the bench rails.

“How about I hold onto the cone, and you just lick up into it?” John deadpans, to which Bob freezes and looks at the blond with an incredulous, flustered stare. For a moment, he does seem to consider taking up that offer.

“I’m kidding. Give me Peaches, I’ll hold onto her.” John hands the cone over, and just as they’re about to exchange, Peaches starts pulling hard on the leash.

Bob loses his grip, and the leash slips out of his hand. The dog takes off after whatever she saw further in the distance, a tiny beige blur zipping into the green. Her neon pink leash trails behind her like a party streamer.

“Oh, shit, Peaches!” he yelps, leaping to his feet. Charlie and Frankie try to follow after her, but Bob is pulling them back.

John groans and hands Bob his ice cream cone. Bob scrambles to hold them both in one hand. “I’ll go get her.”

He clicks his tongue and Bravo spurs into action. Like two characters in a buddy cop B-movie, they take off sprinting after Peaches. He runs through a low hedge, sidesteps a confused jogger, and sees the chihuahua veer off into a patch of thick greenery.

“Peaches, come here!”

She ignores him and takes a sharp left, darting into a bush. Peaches is incredibly fast for a dog that’s about the size of a subway rat. She’s running under benches and past a few joggers that John bumps into, and has to profusely apologize for. Bravo is following John’s lead, tongue lolling out in a smile like this is the greatest game of fetch he’s ever played.

Peaches zips around a tree, Bravo skids in the grass like a race car, and John lunges forward on the other side of the trunk to grab her before she can make another run for it.

“Gotcha, you little rat…” he mutters, holding Peaches in one hand and shaking his head at her. He looks down. His shirt is sweat-stained and has a few smudges of dirt from Peaches’ paws, his jeans grass-stained from passing through the bushes (not that he was very presentable in the first place). John sighs in defeat.

When they get back, Bob is anxiously anticipating their return. Charlie and Frankie perk up when they see John, Peaches, and Bravo walking back. John returns to his spot next to Bob on the bench, and this time, hooks Peaches’ leash around his wrist. Bravo settles by John’s feet, panting, but happier than ever.

“I’m going to hold her this time, mm’kay?”

“Thanks for getting her.” Bob hands over John’s vanilla cone, now a sad sticky mess dripping down Bob’s fist. “Sorry about the ice cream. I didn’t want to lick it, obviously.”

John takes the cone and huffs. “So you let it drip all over your hand?” “It’s fine.”

As John licks what’s left of his ice cream, he can see Bob darting out his tongue to lick the drops of vanilla off his own hand. Getting in the space between his thumb and index, like a cat. John stops whatever he was doing and stares without blinking, mouth slightly agape. They make eye contact. Bob looks unnerved.

“Wh-What? Is there something on my face?”

John snaps back into reality, away from whatever trance seeing that put him in. He can’t be thinking like that about a guy that’s essentially his coworker. “No, uh… you… you enjoying your ice cream?”

Bob smiles and looks at his half-eaten cone. John then takes notice of the blue umbrella, now tucked behind his ear like a flower. It’s cute. (Objectively cute. Like anyone would find that cute.) “Oh, yeah, it’s great. Tastes just like I remember it.”

“You’d just need to brush your teeth to remember that taste,” John mutters under his breath.

Bob tilts the ice cream over to John. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, Walker,” he wiggles the cone a bit. “C’mon. I swear it’s good.”

John raises an eyebrow and leans in slightly. There’s a flicker of playfulness in his blue eyes. He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes a bite straight through the minty green scoop, taking up at least half of what’s left over. Bob is taken aback at the action and swallows hard—John sees that jaw clench almost imperceptibly as he pulls away.

The blond nods to himself as he chews, as if assessing the flavor, then licks the side of his mouth. Would Bob taste like mint if he…

“Okay. I hate that I don’t hate it.”

The weird tension lifts slightly, and Bob wheezes out a breath. “Hah, I told you so—but, you call me crazy for liking mint chocolate, but you straight up bite ice cream. That’s psycho.”

“I never called you ‘crazy’, I just thought it was a weird flavor. And I’m not seven years old, that’s why I bite ice cream.”

Their potential petty argument about sensitive teeth is interrupted by Bravo getting jealous that the humans are getting something to eat. He puts a paw on John’s lap and gives him his best puppy eyes.

John’s not one to deny such a polite request. He gives Bravo a few treats from the fanny pack to satisfy that craving, and to his amusement, Bravo knows a few basic tricks. Soon, the rest of the dogs get excited about treats, and are gathering around John’s legs begging for one. The sight makes Bob laugh.

Soon enough they start walking again, and John is firm in his resolve to be carrying the unruly and dramatic Peaches all the way back just to prevent any more chasing incidents. Bob knows better than to argue with Walker when he’s made his mind up.

The walk back to the shelter is a little quieter. The dogs have gotten their excitement out and are about ready to tucker out when they return. Bravo isn’t sniffing every structure, Charlie and Frankie just follow behind him, and even Peaches is too tired to raise hell again. She’s held in John’s strong arms like a little baby—what a lucky dog.

“You’re really carrying her all the way back?”

“Yeah, I mean, she seems to like it.” John chuckles, looking down at her in his arms. She’s going crosseyed from how sleepy she is, tongue sticking out between her snaggletooth.

“You’re just spoiling her.”

When they return to Liberty Paws, Rina seems surprised that they returned with all four dogs still alive. Bob clips the dogs’ leashes back onto their hooks and John goes to refill their water bowls. In the process, he also tosses a few chewed-up rope toys laying around into their designated toy baskets. 

Charlie, Frankie, Peaches, and Bravo return to their kennels and all flop over after digging into their water bowls. Bravo in particular whines at John as he’s being put away, sad that his new friend is leaving.

“You don’t have to stick around, you know,” Bob says once they’re done, “Dog walking’s the only thing you had to do here.”

John shrugs. “I’ve got time. Might as well get the full volunteer experience.”

Bob’s mouth quirks up. “There’s still feeding, if you’re serious.”

“Yeah, why not? I’ll order us lunch while we’re at it.”

The next hour passes faster than John expects.

He starts at the wash station, scrubbing out stainless steel and plastic bowls dented and chewed up around the edges. It’s not the most glamorous work, but there’s something mindless and grounding about it. Hot water, dish soap, rinse, stack, repeat. He’s never worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant before, never worked a ‘regular’ job since he went into the military at eighteen, but he can imagine it’s about the same as this.

Bob lugs bags of dry kibble out from the storage closet. He’s the one sorting out the meal portions with a list on a clipboard. Each dog gets a specific amount, and some have a mix of wet food or medicine that needs to be added in there. 

When noon strikes, the humans have to eat, too. John orders lunch for him, Bob, Rina, and the other employees at the shelter just as a nice gesture for having him. They get a group picture in, smiling around the table with everyone and Bravo and a few other dogs they let out of the kennels for a bit. John smiles wide in the middle with a ‘shaka’ sign reminiscent of a brief surfing phase when he was younger. He pulls Bob in closer by the shoulder, who just gives a shy, tight-lipped smile.

If every day of the rest of this week was going to be like this, then maybe this whole thing isn’t that bad of an idea.

Bob clocks out at three. The two of them step out into the late afternoon light, smelling like the shelter and dog hair clinging to their clothes. The air, for once, doesn’t smell like all the lovely things going on inside the shelter.

“You really stayed for my whole shift,” Bob says softly, looking at John.

“Correction—I stayed for the dogs. And I guess you could say I had fun, too. Tiring, but fun.” John shrugs, brushing away some of the dog hair off his shoulder.

They both stand there for a while, like neither wants to walk off first. Bob slouches again. John rubs the back of his neck.

“You heading back to the tower?” John asks.

“Oh, yeah. Subway’s that way,” Bob points at 110th Street, three blocks over.

“...I can drive you, if you want. I’m just parked down the block.”

Bob thinks over it for a second.

“Okay. I’d like that.”

Some things are too good to be true, and John just can’t catch a break.

John and Bob are in the elevator of the Watchtower going up to the residential floors. John’s just learned that Bob needs a bit of catching up to do in terms of internet culture—like a sixty year-old grandpa, the guy has been getting his news off television and newspapers in Southeast Asia for the past six years of his life before getting picked up by OXE for Project Sentry.

He doesn’t even have a phone—John knows this part—it was taken away when he was experimented on and obviously never got it back, considering he was proclaimed ‘dead’ for a good few months. He rarely used it when he had it, and he never bothered to get himself a new one.

It’s baffling. Who doesn’t have a phone in the year 2028?

John’s in the middle of showing Bob his infamous r/PublicFreakout clip where he throws a trash bag at a TMZ reporter. John is leaning in and showing the video on his phone, looking a bit too proud of himself, while Bob just nods along with a concerned smile.

The elevator doors slide open on the 70th. Mel steps in, and the two of them break apart to the opposite ends of the small space as if they’d been caught red-handed. John fakes a cough.

“Oh, there you two are. Ms. de Fontaine wants us in the meeting room. Like, right now.” She adjusts her posture and stands in front of them, facing the doors.

John shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Am I in trouble?” Then her sentence processes in his head. “Wait, us? Bob, too?”

“Yes. Bob, too.”

He looks at Bob with a quizzical expression. Bob just pouts and shrugs.

On the 79th floor Mel ushers the two of them down the hall to the meeting room, walking briskly with some kind of fear that either all of them are in trouble, or she’s in trouble, or just them. Either way, it doesn’t sound good.

Valentina is already inside, seated at the head of the long table, flicking through photos on her tablet mirrored on the large LED screen. Candids from their day today, pulled from major tabloid outlets, of John and Bob walking the dogs, and some moments at the bench in Central Park, laughing together.

Valentina zooms in on Bob in every photo. “Would anyone like to explain to me, why Robert is in these photos?”

Bob opens his mouth like he might try to answer himself, but John beats him to it. “The shelter I got assigned to is the same one Bob’s part-timing at. Pure coincidence.”

Valentina’s eyes flick over to Mel, who gives a short shrug that’s almost like a wince. “I-I didn’t know. I just chose the nearest shelter in the city taking volunteers.”

“He’s not supposed to be public facing yet,” Valentina exhales through her nose, “He’s supposed to be off the radar, not walking dogs with U.S. Agent.”

John doesn’t respond immediately. He rolls his neck—it’s been a long day, he’s exhausted, and having to listen to Val’s nagging is just the cherry on top of this fucked-up cake.

“I just work Tuesdays and Thursdays. I don’t really go anywhere besides work and the grocery, if we need it.” Bob adds softly, stepping out from behind John’s shadow.

“You need to quit that job,” she responds, pointing at him accusingly. “And you need to stay here. You can’t be seen associated with the team, not before we’ve figured out your new Sentry rollout.”

John makes a disgruntled face. He steps forward. “You can’t just coop him up here like Rapunzel.”

“He is not cooped up. He’s protected. He—and you all, have everything you need here.”

“You’re isolating him,” John barks back, “He should be able to live like a normal civilian—which he is—and that means going wherever the hell he wants!”

Mel is about to open her mouth to interject, but Valentina raises a hand and she swallows her words. She looks just as nervous as Bob is, as the conversation starts to escalate.

“I think you and I both know, John, that Robert is not a normal civilian. Need I remind you of the danger we were all under not too long ago?” — Bob dips his head shamefully at that. A hot red anger surges inside John, threatening to boil over.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” John grits out between his teeth and steps closer to the table. Valentina leans back on her chair, her throat bobs uncomfortably but she keeps her chin up in faux-confidence.

“Walker, it’s fine—” Bob steps forward and reaches for the hem of John’s henley, but John holds a hand up as if to say just let me handle this.

“I’m trying to keep this from blowing up in both your faces. And everyone’s, really.” Valentina says slowly, “And God knows your reputation’s terrible enough as it is, John. That’s why we’re working on this, aren’t we? That’s what I assigned Mel for.”

John huffs a sharp breath and stands straighter. He keeps his distance just to prevent himself from doing something drastic. “If you want me to do this whole goddamn PR stunt bullshit this week, let me do it with him.”

The room goes still. Bob’s mouth is agape, his expression incredulous. For a split second, even John himself looks dumbfounded at his own proposal.

Valentina gives him a strained smile, and it’s clear her patience is wearing thin. “I’m sorry, did you not listen to anything I just said the past five minutes?”

John doesn’t even blink. “No, I heard you.”

Bob shifts his weight from one foot to the other, trying to find a way to insert himself somewhere in this conversation that’s literally involving him. “John—”

“And I mean it.” John’s tone is sharper and demands attention. “You want me to play goody-two-shoes? Fine, I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it alone.”

Valentina squints at him, leaning forward slightly. Okay, she’ll bite at whatever kind of bait this is. “”And why would you possibly want to do this with him?”

There’s a pause as John thinks about what to say, for once. It’s long enough for Mel to glance between John and Bob with a pensive expression, trying to gauge what exactly is going on here.

“He doesn’t try to micromanage everything I say, he’s not on some power trip, and he makes it feel less like I’m being dragged through glass doing all this.”

Valentina’s eyebrows quirk up in a curious, yet amused expression. She certainly didn’t expect John, of all people, to be complimenting Robert like this, albeit to insult her in the process. Everyone else in the room seems just as puzzled as she is.

“Val, if I may,” Mel raises her hand awkwardly, to which the older woman gestures to allow her, “I… I don’t think it’s a bad idea. To have them both go through with the plans this week.”

Valentina’s gaze doesn’t leave Mel, but she doesn’t immediately respond. She’s thinking it through—weighing the risks, calculating how badly this could backfire if the public got wind of who Bob really was, what had been done to him, and the person behind it all. Obviously, her.

“You think this is a good idea?”

Mel gestures between Bob and John. “Honestly? People already saw them together today, and no one’s made the connection. Our sweep of the old Sentry files is squeaky clean, for the most part. We don’t need to spin it into a press release to introduce Sentry, but… maybe letting them be wouldn’t hurt.”

“See? Exactly.” John says, even though it’s not exactly what he meant. He just wants someone else to join him in opposing Valentina. “Are we good? Can we leave?”

Valentina sighs. She sets down her tablet on the table and rubs at her temples. At the very inkling of a nod, Mel lets out a breath that she’s been holding in the whole time, and John nudges Bob toward the door.

“Mel, stay a minute.”

“Oh. Sure.”

They’re both quiet in the elevator this time. John stands on one side, arms crossed, gaze locked on the number display going up. Bob’s on the other, hands clasped in front of him, eyes fixed on the floor. Neither of them says a word. Too much happened too fast.

Then, at the exact same time;

“I should’ve asked before I said something—” “I don’t mind doing this with you but—”

“Sorry, you go first.”

They both stop. John shakes his head. “No, you first.”

Bob sighs. “I’m okay doing all of this with you. But I don’t need you to defend me from Val. I can speak for myself.”

John doesn’t bark back, nor does he double down. He just nods. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Won't do it again.”

Bob’s a little surprised at how fast that was. How easy. He thought a sorry from Walker must be a rare commodity.

“That’s all. Your turn.”

“I should’ve asked you before I said something.” John pinches the bridge of his nose, “I guess I just… didn’t want to do it alone. I thought this whole thing was stupid when Mel pitched it to me, but I didn’t think it was bad. But whenever Val’s involved it makes me feel like a puppet. And I hate it.”

John figures Bob can relate on that front, how effortless it is for Val to get under people’s skin and use them to do her bidding. Even something as innocent as walking dogs can feel like a terrible cover-up job to save her face, even if the intention is to help John.

“You really don’t have to do this with me.”

There’s a pause. Part of John hopes that Bob still wants to.

“It’s fine, Walker. I don’t mind.” Bingo. “I think it’ll be good for you.”

John snorts. “You’re sure? You said you don’t think you can handle the spotlight.”

Bob doesn’t answer right away, because John’s right, he did say that. They’re both running through worst-case scenarios in their head. Headlines exposing everything—the press figuring out who Bob is. Not just as Sentry, but the Void that swallowed half of New York, turning everyone into tormented shadows of themselves. Or some outlet unearthing pieces of Bob’s past; Malaysia, the clinics, the drugs, the pills. Whatever the internet can mange to dig up, the world would never see Bob the same way again.

And Valentina’s going to be there to say I told you so.

“Really, Walker,” Bob says, gentler now. “Like you said, the press is going to be on you. I’ll just be the guy in the background, right? John Walker and friend.”

It’s not very convincing, but John wants to drop this topic already. “...Right.”

The elevator slows down on the 86th and a soft ding rings out as the doors open to Bob’s unit. He gives John a small nod.

“Good night, Walker. See you tomorrow?”

“Only if you want to.”

Bob rolls his eyes, and he opens his mouth to respond but the doors close again before John can hear what he says.

“Well, I do.”

Later that evening, John sits at the kitchen counter with a half-eaten bowl of Wheaties. He’d cook himself an actual meal if he wasn’t tired, but they’ve got enough stock of those Wheaties boxes to put a doomsday prepper to shame. Might as well take advantage.

The lights are dim, the TV’s off, and he’s scrolling through X one-handed on his phone, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. This is another one off those nights that, depending on what he’s going to see on his phone, will affect just how well he’ll be sleeping.

At first, it’s not much; just linked articles about the shelter visit, a video of him carrying Peaches right after he chased her halfway through the park, and — oh cute, the Liberty Paws account posted a photo of him and Charlie a few hours ago. 

He reads through the replies. His eyebrows slowly knit together. “Oh, what the fuck.”

People are now thirsting over him. Somehow, John can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

If they’re gonna have John do the same thing over and over again, might as well show Aaron reacting to it. Now that Robert has been brought into the mix, there really should be a reaction. Not only does it allow John to see how this affects Aaron, it can be used to push John over the edge. Problem is, we have no idea if the writing is intentionally leaving him out and not taking advantage of the situation or Danny just had regular time off so he wasn’t around to film.

I mean yeah, we don't know if his lack of screen time lately is just his regular holiday/time off schedule or if there's any intention behind it. I mean it is what it is. Doesn't make it not frustrating.

I think the other problem is not knowing when the John conclusion is going to be. Because obviously they can't really start having Aaron become Plot Aware or too invested in Robert because that's going to move more quickly toward the climax of this story and I don't necessarily want it to be repetitive. But I also don't just want Aaron to disappear entirely either. Like, let him be involved in the Nate stuff more, let him be in scenes like the surrogacy one. Where is this Mack story we were promised? Is he going to get to weigh in on his best friend's maybe divorce? He's already been somewhat brought into the surrogacy story so he could be used there too. But will they? Or will he just continue to languish in the background or off screen doing nothing? I know I was asking for longer Robron scenes before but it's not even about that. I just want him to be a character in general. Sigh.

Like Robert has 500 plots going right now and Aaron isn't even a part of the one he's actually in. So let him be involved in others outside of that one.

I mean again, it is what it is. A lot of my ramblings are just me processing my thoughts on the story and I clearly have a lot of them. I'm not like "angry", it's just very much not how I would have written this story, even in the confines of the current show. But whatever, I'll get over it. Hopefully in the end, we will get decent Aaron content and good Robron content. Clearly they care as we saw with the bridge scene and the prison scenes. All of those feelings are there waiting to break loose. I'm just getting impatient on the Aaron side cause he's not getting to do anything (and hasn't had much to do for 6 years) and Robert is getting to run around doing EVERYTHING haha, which I love, don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying the hell out of Robert's return. I'm just here waiting for Aaron's character to return from war. I hope it's worth it in the end.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus & Mother Mary | Some Things Stay The Same | Platonic

You’re Jesus’ little sister, and the fact that He is the Messiah doesn’t change classic sibling-dynamics.

Requested by Xochilt

You leave Jerusalem behind you, the Holy City in your back and growing smaller on the horizon every time you turn over your shoulder to cast a glance at the rest of the group trailing after you. 

A refreshing week has left your spirits lifted and brought a spring in your step. The next stop is unknown to you as of now, but you don’t seem to mind that uncertainty in the slightest. With an air about you that makes you seem younger than you actually are, you bounce back and forth within the group, conversing with one person and then the other, wanting to speak to as many people as you can. 

“Sometimes I wonder if You and (Y/n) are even siblings to begin with,” Simon Peter tells his Master with slight amusement to his tone. “I mean, she’s all bubbly while You are… Well… How to put it…” 

Jesus raises an eyebrow at the former fisherman, a fond smile playing over His lips. “Yes?” 

Cephas plants his hands on his hips as your enthusiastic voice drifts crisply through the air, considering the words as you quip to Matthew and Thaddeus about whatever crosses your mind at that point. “Let me rephrase,” Peter muses, “You have more of a filter, Master. No offence towards (Y/n).”

“Which means a lot coming from you,” Andrew intersects himself into the conversation, causing his older brother to glare at him. All in good nature, though, for the chuckle of the Messiah causes Peter to relax right away.

“None taken, and I can say with confidence that I speak for her as well,” Jesus replies, eyes glittering with glee and amusement, “I understand what you mean. (Y/n) can be quite loud once in a blue moon.”

“She must know a lot of blue moons, then,” Andrew teases, causing the three men to laugh in unison.

The Messiah hums. “Well, perhaps she has inherited that from our Earthly abba Joseph. But you should ask our eema for clarification on that, if you’re curious about it.” Simon Peter pulls a thoughtful face at the Rabbi’s words, for he had not considered that side of the family yet. It was easy to forget that even though you were siblings, this family bond you shared with the Messiah was not ordinary.

“What are you guys talking about?” You suddenly pop your head between the sons of Jonah as if knowing that you had been the topic of conversation, putting your hands on their shoulders. 

“You, actually,” Simon admits, causing Andrew to flinch a bit awkwardly.

“Only good things, I hope,” you see no harm in the fact, smiling at your oldest brother. Jesus winks and nods, pursing His lips. He had been right about you not taking any offence in the slightest.

“Just about the fact that you and I have different personalities.” 

You click your tongue. “Ah, that. You’d sooner think that John the Baptist is my brother instead of You.” 

Silence befalls the three men, for it brings forth that your extraverted personality might not come from Joseph’s side of the family after all, since John the Baptist was related to Mother Mary. “Huh…” you muse to yourself as you piece that together.

“Characteristics may come from many branches of the family,” Andrew concludes with a shrug, “And that’s a good thing. What an insufferable family we would have been, had everyone been like Peter— Hey!”

You laugh when Simon swats the back of his younger brother’s head. The curly-haired fisherman simply couldn’t resist the cheeky comment.

You release the two sons of Jonah and walk between them properly. In relative silence, you stay there for a while, the road ahead reaching all the way to the far horizon. Footsteps approach from behind, causing your pace to fall back just slightly. 

“I come bearing gifts,” announces John the Beloved, who is holding several pieces of fruit in his hands. Due to the four of you walking at the front, this time around, it means you get the last pick of the bunch. Andrew chooses an apple and Simon Peter selects an apricot, leaving only another apple as well as a persimmon. 

You and your brother make eye-contact, both knowing what the shared expression means. You raise one eyebrow, Jesus soon mirroring it, before the two of you both reach for the persimmon at the same time. 

“Good luck,” John smirks, handing you the leftover apple before heading back to where he had been walking earlier. 

“I don’t want this,” you mutter, “I want the persimmon.” 

“Well, so does Jesus,” Peter comments, prying some apricot from between his teeth with his tongue. 

Andrew watches the two of you with mild amusement. Now this is going to be interesting; how will the Messiah resolve this issue together with His little sister? 

“I think I should have it,” you instantly establish with a matter-of-factly air about your voice, “After all, I’m the youngest. I should have the first pick and You should take care of me, not the other way around. That is just how it is.” 

Jesus hums, accepting the challenge. “It may have gone that way while we were children, (Y/n), but now that we are adults, you might have noticed that it is not how the world works for grown-ups.” 

You pout at Him and hold the persimmon a little tighter, now carrying it between you two as you walk together, holding back the group significantly speed-wise. The other followers begin gathering around, curious to see what the commotion is about. Whenever the Messiah slows down in the middle of the road, it usually means something serious. To find out that it is nothing but classic sibling-banter piques everyone’s interest maybe even just as much. 

“Well, I still think I should have it,” you say, “You want to be a good big brother, right?” 

“Of course,” Jesus says, “But not letting you have it teaches you a valuable lesson. That would make me a very responsible sibling, no?” 

You huff. “Well, You had the last persimmon last time as well, so there.” 

“If I recall correctly, you had begged for Mary to bring you a plum that day, so you didn’t even want the persimmon that day.” 

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to come up with a good argument. “Well, why do You think that You should have it?” 

“As the Creator of the universe, I know all the fruits inside and out. The fact that persimmons are amongst My favourites means quite a bit, doesn’t it?” 

In good nature, you laugh at that. “You always play the ‘I am the Messiah’ card! It’s not fair!” 

“You know that I don’t do that all the time, (Y/n).” 

“Okay, maybe not that often, but still… I’m your little sister. I’m a girl. You should get me what I want, as any other brother would do. It’s just how things should be.” 

Peter clears his throat and Andrew chuckles. “That doesn’t really hold up, you know? There is nothing to back up that claim, it’s purely speculation. And maybe it’s how things work in a child’s world, but not in actual adult society.” 

You gasp, feigning offence. “Are you taking His side?” 

Jesus chuckles heartily. “Well, I’m only making a sacrifice here. See all the brown spots on the persimmon? You hate them, always complaining that they make it taste bitter. So, I’m doing you a favour by eating it for you.” 

“Alright, this isn’t going anywhere.” 

A familiar feminine voice reaches your ears as well as Jesus’, and the two of you tense up the same way you used to do whenever you had been children upon being caught doing something that you hadn’t been supposed to do. No matter how much older you have gotten since then, a good mother’s reprimand always seems effective. 

“Jesus, (Y/n)…” Mother Mary steps in front of you, halting the entire group in their tracks. With her hands on her hips, she looks from you to her oldest Son, a stern expression on her face. “We are going to handle this the old-fashioned way.” 

“The old-fashioned way?” Peter wonders out loud, but before he can inquire further, Mother Mary conjures up a small knife from her bag. “Where did you even get that— Wait, you aren’t going to let them fight, are you? That would be highly questionable, especially coming from someone like you—” 

Andrew nudges his older brother. “Of course not, what are you even thinking?!” 

“I don’t know! She’s got a knife! What am I supposed to think?” 

“Well, not that they’re going tot use it to fight, I mean, comeon!” 

With a sigh, you take it from your eema, knowing the drill by now. Many arguments with Jesus and your other siblings alike over matters like food often led to this. “Can’t go wrong with this technique,” Mary muses, a smile gracing her lips to show the unserious nature of the issue, “One of my children will divide the food and the other is allowed to choose the half they would like to have for themselves. That way, it is cut up fairly and both parties must be content with the portion they receive.” 

A sound of understanding goes through the group and you give your eema a look to see if she is serious about resolving the issue of the persimmon this way. She gives you a nod, urging you to carry on. With a small sigh, you find the nearest rock and place down the piece of fruit, eyeing it carefully. 

Narrowing your eyes, you inspect it from up close, trying to find the middle line. Amused, Jesus watches how you do this. “What are you doing?” Nathanael questions, but you put up your hand without looking over your shoulder.

“Sssh, I’m trying to find the exact centre.” 

With bated breath, everyone watches how you inch the knife against the orange surface and cut the skin, making that first slice that cannot be undone. Sticking out your tongue for utter concentration, you shift the persimmon just a slightly to the left and push it in more firmly, certain of your honest division—

—As you make the cut, it rolls just a little, and even though you manage to catch it before it fully rolls off the stone, the blade slices through rather off-centre. You click your tongue and for a moment, your eyes shoot up to meet your mother’s in question, but she shakes her head. “You know the rules, (Y/n). You divide and Jesus can choose the half He wants. Once you’ve made the cut…” She shows her palms in defence. 

Arguing it is of no use, you know well enough by now. With a sigh, you have no choice but to pull through, slicing the fruit unevenly in half. Straightening up, you turn back to your older brother and hold out the large piece in His direction without even looking at Him, knowing He won this round. 

Part of you had already expected it; the Messiah naturally chooses the path that favours another over Himself, but it still makes your heart feel light and warm when He gently reaches for the other half and takes it from your grip, but not before you look up at Him. Jesus winks and gives you a lopsided grin before you release the smaller half. 

“I know how much you love your persimmons,” Jesus muses, “And what kind of brother would I be if I didn’t give My little sister the benefit of the doubt, hm?” 

You laugh at that softly, shrugging at Him before digging in, the entire group shifting back into motion to wherever you had been heading in the first place. The natural sugars in the fruit give you new energy to keep going. “Do you often let them resolve issues like that?” Peter asks your eema, and Mother Mary lets out a small, ambiguous hum. 

“Well,” she says, “You’d be surprised at just how much you can let your own children fix things fairly on their own, provided you give them the right tools to do so. But sometimes, they just need their dear eema to remind them on how to go about it in a civilised way. Even now that they are adults, they still need to rely on my motherly wisdom every so often.” Mary says in light jest, although there is a core of truth to her words. 

At that, you let out a chuckle and Jesus puts an arm around your shoulders, tugging you a bit closer into a half-hug as you walk, chewing on your sweet fruits and enjoying them together. 

“We will always need you, eema,” you tell your mother over your shoulder, and Jesus nods in agreement, finishing the last bit of His persimmon. 

“Now and always.” He agrees with you.

[return-of-the-vegetable]

[...] something feels missing from your life.

[javierduffy]

DO IT. WRITE THE JOHN X KIERAN FIC AND I WILL READ IT TRUST

ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR

happy new year to you as well :] !!! i hope it’s filled with fun and love and light !!!!!!!

WAUGH THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT 💔💔 now idk about a full fic but uuhhmmm i can offer you some silly doodles ? hopefully i’ll have the energy to draw/write them for real soon 😭

and of course the 3rd boyfriend

[toothworxx]

you ever wanna spread Propaganda(TM) of one of your favorite musical artists?

Then you think and think and think and go-

NAHHH MAYBE NEXT TIME

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

as much as i despise john house tbh i wish we'd gotten more episodes with him . . . partly for more of that sweet sweet Daddy Issues content but also. because there are so few scenes with this man i have to do so much fucking guesswork when writing him

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Episode Thoughts…

First of all, Robert looked great today. The flannel shirt was kind of working for me, not gonna lie. So well done for all that. Haha

Also, his little owl pancakes for Harry? Fucking adorable. Look at him being creative during his trauma induced insomnia. Better for the village if his creativity manifests in pancake design than scheming, not that Mr Shifty won’t be back soon enough.

I appreciate that they used it as a vehicle to show he’s still not sleeping too so that’s good for trauma watch. And how that led into the surrogacy chat with Vic. He only got one very fast far away look when she said the word surrogacy and it wasn’t applied to him and the past anyway so it probably wasn’t anything.

I love how protective he is of Vic though. And of course he goes barging over to Charity’s without talking it all the way through.

I appreciate that they actually let him speak to Sarah for half a second and that Vic was finally referred to as her aunt. No “uncle Robert” though. Haha.

I thought the scene where Vic and Sarah talked was good. In general, I feel like if Cain and Charity were just honest with Sarah like they are in the end and helped her accept she’s probably never having kids of her own instead of coming up with all of these hair brained ideas for surrogacy, she might actually be okay. She’d be sad about it but she’d accept it and move on. But Cain can’t handle a sad kid right now, not when he has a small chance of fixing it. I do feel bad for him. He carries a lot of guilt for everything that happened with Nate.

I like that Chas was throwing out “Aaron and Robert” mentions too. She knows they’re inevitable. She’s just waiting it out. Haha. Well, at least she was back today. Even if I still think it’s weird that there’s been no Robert in the present talk between her and Aaron or her and Robert. But whatever, moving on.

Moving on I guess to whatever the fuck that Robron scene was. Haha. Sigh. I knew not to expect a lot but I thought maybe we’d at least get a reaction shot after Robert said he would “pay John back” which was a nice choice of words by the way. Haha.

I do feel bad for Robert though. Every time he realizes John’s told Aaron another thing about his current traumatic circumstances, his face just falls. It was the same in the shop scene. I wonder if it’s like “oh no another thing that shows what a mess I am” or if it’s a little of “oh another thing that I’m struggling with that you don’t care about”. Yes I know I’m thinking too hard about this but I have to cause they’re giving us nothing. Haha. 🤞fingers crossed for the good stuff that’s coming according to spoiler anon.

At least Aaron looked suitably miserable around John today even if it was about the memorial John is trying to get him not to go to.

As for the rest of the episode…

It still feels very disjointed. I think the surrogacy/Nate strand was okay cause there are more people involved. But the Home Farm and the Cafe stories feel so isolated.

Love that Lewis just has investments. Maybe he can just be everyone’s financial planner. I think he and Nicola could be a fun duo once they sort things out and Nicola gets used to him changing things.

The Joe and Kim stuff is still frustrating as he’ll because there’s absolutely no reason for him not to tell her who Crowley is. And I was really hoping that blueflakies line would end up being a twist where she revealed she knew he was trying to scam her and then they work together. Sigh. Instead it was about fucking Graham. Haha.

I did enjoy her graphic design font critique though.

[besly1]

idiot animorpher keychain designs!! i've been meaning to get these turned into real keychains so i can freak out and bite them irl but im proud enough of these to post here ig (and this is a great way to introduce these fools without feeling shoehorned in)

Dahlia Weinbrecht, The Leader

lesbian girlboss queen who is chaotic as HELL. their first mission she knocked a woman out cold to avoid having her cover revealed and i. love. her sister is dead and she's so goth and she writes poetry and she's so cool and i hfgjdfjgkd her.... the she.....

Hayley 'Hays' 'Haystack' Marlene Wheeler, The Heart

hays my beloved the kicked puppy of the group w the saddest wet eyes (her player's words not mine)

hays is such a mess and i wish i could give her a hug, but that would make her explode apparently so i will simply have to care abt her from a distance. i would yap abt her but i fear i would not do her justice, so i will simply add more facts abt her dynamic w my boy: donny calls her 'hayley' because he has a Thing about using nicknames w people he's not familiar/friends with and she does not have a good time w it. my boy is very mean and intimidating and their dynamic seems like it'd be so interesting bcs they're also similar in a few ways and i hdfgghjkfdkg..... themg....

Jimmy Faraday, The Technician

Normalest Guy Ever my beloved!!! jimmy's fun because his player always defaults to playing the 'cool, chill guy' and jimmy is no diff. he is into Computers and Tech and he is here for a good time. also he is kind of my son's (actual) best friend and their dynamic drives me crazy too; jimmy is very much the relaxed anchor to the keyed up mess that is My Boy and iiii. love them. so much. their dynamic is very important to me and i cannot rightly explain why

John Engels, The Berserker

that's my son's boyfriend!! i already kinda ranted abt john in an earlier post so im not gonna repeat that here but here's a fun fact if you're curious: John's player was the one who started shipping our boys first. i simply saw Their Vision and backed them wholeheartedly. now we're here like 3 months later still obsessed with them and i <3 hate <3 im so terribly weak to men w complicated relationships send HELP

Gordon 'Donny' Schitz, The Scout

that's him! that's my son!!!

meet Gordon 'Donny' Schitz folks, one of the two sources of agony i've had over the course of the last few months. i am so fixated on him and john it is BAD. donny is a gay half-asian smoker twink disaster and i hate him but also he is SO important to me it is not funny. he's a cook and he loves nature and he is trying so hard to be the most responsible and knowledgeable person in the room at all times and i.... love.... let me tell you how much i've come to love....

literally everyone calls him donny exclusively (including me) but he hates when strangers call him that because that is a Nickname and Nicknames are Special to him so if he lets you call him donny you are, to some extent, Special. and everyone in the idiot animorpher team gets to call him donny <3

sigh. anyways. rant over. meet and greet for the Guys of all time concluded, thanks for coming. i'd say im sorry for going feral over people literally no one knows about but also im not bcs i am cringe and i am free

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now.