#Mostly because the fire hands > guns thing but

[famiglia-lealta]

You would think safe gunplay is about making sure a gun isn't loaded, but keep in mind that if you're ever in the unfortunate position to have gunplay with Xanxus - they're always loaded.

[sanguineterrain]

holiday spirit | jason todd

Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!

the divider

You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights. 

You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.

Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain. 

Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.

So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work. 

You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light. 

The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness. 

"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.

Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

"Oh my God.”

He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”

"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.

"What, um—" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”

"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"

Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."

"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."

He laughs. You taste bile in your throat. 

Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."

"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure. 

"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"

"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does. 

"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."

You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.

"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."

You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"

Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."

You blink. "What?"

"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."

Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.

five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.

“Yup. Good eye.”

"This seems... illegal.”

"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”

He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit. 

"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."

Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"

"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"

"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."

"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”

He tilts his head at you. You keep talking. 

“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”

You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating. 

“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."

You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat. 

Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"

"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"

“Does your left arm hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Are your limbs stiffening?”

“No, but—”

“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”

Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again. 

It’s quiet for a second. Then— 

“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.

"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor. 

There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.

"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.

"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."

You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"

"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."

So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.

"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.

"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."

You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath. 

“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”

It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack. 

“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”

Yeah, but what if you lose your job?

You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”

“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”

“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"

You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.

"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”

"No!" you yell, and turn off the light. 

Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”

You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”

You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.

“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.

"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"Because—"

There's a creak from the back. You wince. 

Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"

He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.

"Would you stop—is someone here?"

"My boyfriend!" you blurt.

Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Well, I have one and he's here."

"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"

"Because he's... um..."

You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye. 

Oh, this is a terrible idea.

"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.

Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."

"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."

"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"

"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.

Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."

He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.

"Bill is a shithead," Hood says. 

“How… do you know his name?”

“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly. 

"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."

"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."

"What? No! Hood—"

"Oh, relax. I was kidding."

"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"

"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."

Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.

"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”

"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.

"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."

"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”

“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”

“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”

"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”

“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says. 

“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”

But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office. 

Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.

"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."

His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.

"You're pretty crafty," he says. 

"...Thanks?”

Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”

“You will?”

He tilts his head. “Should I not?”

“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”

He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."

"Y-yeah, got it."

Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."

"Who's Roy?"

"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."

He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.

"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling. 

This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.

But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.

And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?

The door swings open. You turn around.

“You wear a mask under your helmet?” 

“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.” 

You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?” 

He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.

“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles. 

And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all. 

His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.

“What?” he snaps, glaring.

“Nice eyes,” you blurt.

His brows furrow. You remember the guns.

“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.

Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."

"Okay."

"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."

"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."

"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."

He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.

"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.

"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"

“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.

"The same one who takes Xanax?”

“Would you believe it?”

You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.

“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask. 

“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”

“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?" 

"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."

"Your family doesn't celebrate?"

Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.

The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.

"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."

You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.

"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."

You nod. “Got it.”

“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”

You smile tightly. “As promised.”

A few people wave. Others cheer. 

“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.

“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.

“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”

“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.

“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

You shrug. “Never came up.”

“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.

“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”

You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.

“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”

You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.

“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.

“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”

“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”

You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”

Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”

You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride. 

Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet. 

“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”

“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.

You smile. “Glad you like it.”

You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn. 

Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”

You can guess exactly how he feels about that.

"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”

"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."

She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."

Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.

But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face. 

And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend. 

"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.

"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"

"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."

He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.

"Thank you for that," you say.

Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."

"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."

"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”

You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”

"And where is she?"

"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."

"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.

"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"

He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.

“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”

“So?”

He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?” 

It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more. 

“So where did all that money go?” you ask. 

Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.” 

“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say. 

“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”

“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”

His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”

“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking. 

Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?” 

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.” 

“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”

The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low. 

He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”

“No, some people mixed it here.”

“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.

“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say. 

“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.” 

“That's what I say!” 

He winks at you. You look away, flustered. 

The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya. 

And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend. 

"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"

One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm. 

Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.

"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"

Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.

"No pictures," he says.

You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.

"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"

"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"

The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"

"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.

As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.

"Wow," you say.

"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."

You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.

"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."

Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.

"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.

"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"

"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.

Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"

"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”

"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."

You two go off to the side while Hood dials.

"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?

"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says. 

"Why?”

“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”

“Zombie breath.”

“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone. 

“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.

You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.

"Who's that?" the voice asks.

"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"

"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”

“It’s the TV,” Hood says.

“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”

“Mind your damn—”

“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt. 

Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…

“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”

“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”

“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.

You look at each other for a moment. 

“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…” 

His phone beeps. You look around the room. 

Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!

Holy shit. 

"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."

"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.

"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"

"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"

"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.” 

You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy. 

Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic. 

“Hood!” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.” 

Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”

And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet. 

You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on. 

You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle. 

Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms. 

“Y’alright?” he asks. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”

He lets go. You shift on your feet. 

“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask. 

Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”

The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar. 

“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move. 

You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out. 

The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple. 

“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”

You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.

“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”

As soon as the door closes, you're squirming. 

“What is that?” you hiss. 

“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”

He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened. 

“That wasn’t—”

“I didn’t—”

You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard. 

“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands. 

Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”

“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”

“Yup. Find Matt?” 

“Absolutely.” 

You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.

“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out. 

“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks. 

“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.” 

“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”

“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood. 

“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.

“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”

He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.” 

Fifteen Minutes Later.

“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still! 

“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.” 

“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo. 

Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on. 

“Almost there!” he says. 

“Hey! What're you doing?” 

You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on. 

An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure. 

“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”

The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you. 

“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”

Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught. 

The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is. 

The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat. 

“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”

He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”

“And I commend you for that.” 

“Are you sassing me?” 

Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood. 

Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators. 

“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”

The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down. 

You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?

Bang!

You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not. 

Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch. 

“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.” 

Shoot? Oh no.

You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head. 

Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow. 

You can't just leave him there. 

Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully. 

Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt. 

Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman. 

You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.

“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.

That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop. 

“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too. 

“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”

Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”

“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”

Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.” 

He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”

“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks. 

You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic. 

You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?

“You're bluffing,” Emerson says. 

“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”

“Then we'll take care of her too.”

Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber. 

“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”

Candy? Why would—oh!

On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it. 

“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.

You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor. 

“Are you o—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct. 

“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.

“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots. 

“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”  

Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.” 

Matt fires four more shots. 

“Fuck you, cop!” 

“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”

“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety. 

Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.” 

“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”

You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”

“I’d take it as a compliment.”

Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him. 

“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion. 

“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”

“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!” 

“What?”

Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”

He ignores you, of course. 

“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”

And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope. 

“I will shoot you!” Matt warns. 

“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?” 

Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty. 

Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor. 

“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.” 

You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring. 

“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks. 

“Yeah.”

It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs. 

He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown. 

“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”

“You let go of the hook?”

You stop. “Um. No?” 

Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.” 

“I knew you were inside the office!”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”

“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”

“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say. 

“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.” 

You laugh. “I already think that.”

Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.

“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask. 

���With pleasure.”

“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.

“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.” 

You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to. 

There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight. 

“Hood… what did you do?” 

“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”

“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say. 

“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”

You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”

“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”

You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.” 

Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds. 

“So—”

“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”

“Hood…”

He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”

“And what would I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”

You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”

“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”

“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”

“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”

Hood nods. “Deal.”

You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.

“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”

He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Will you?”

He laughs. “No promises.” 

Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets. 

In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #8

A/N: Recently reread an older prompt thread of Danny reincarnating as Tim and remembering his previous life at nine... that inspired this...

Something was different about Tim. They all noticed as they watched the third Robin as he went through the cave like a whirlwind on fire. Collecting small gadgets and trinkets, his laptop and other things before hurrying off with some kind of excuse again. Dick arched an eyebrow and glanced at Bruce. The first Robin felt tempted to as Bruce for help to figure out if something had happened during their last mission.

While near death situation weren't uncommon in their line of work, they never before had affected the young teen the way they have right now. Dick had first thought, the kid had suffered some kind of head trauma considering how disoriented he had been when he first woke up. But this, was ridiculous, it wasn't like Tim was acting all to different from his usual self but.... Dick shock his head. Maybe he was just imaging it. The kid was still the same, tinkering with gadgets and drinking coffee or energy drink in amounts the kid was still way to young to consume the way he does. Maybe the boy hit puberty finally.

In his room Tim dropped everything he had collected from the Batcave into a pile, before quickly grabbing a notepad and scratching out bullet points as well as adding new points. The kid then proceeded to start pacing his room, counting something down with the help of his fingers as he muttered to himself.

"Okay Tim, think... I should have everything I need... I just need to remember the blueprint and then build it. It's not like I never build gadgets of my own. It something I have always done once I got into it... so it will be easy to make it and then..." His muttered continued before he plopped onto the ground, not before grabbing his little multi-tool box. His hand grabbing his notebook once again as he opened it and began scribbling down.

"If I use the parts of the stun gun.... and then the chip set from the bat mini computer.... then use the metal from one of the many batarangs..." Tim mumbled to himself, before coursing as he dropped his pen. His hand going intangible for a brief moment. His eye twitches for a second before he took a deep breath calming down, then picked up his pen again. He really needed to get started on building that Fenton bracelet.

"They just had to knock me hard enough into the head that I would remember my past life...." Tim mutters quietly, annoyed with the goons he had fought during their last mission. He took another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Memories that belonged to Danny Fenton flitting across his mind. When Tim had woken up the first time he hand't remembered for a hot second that he was Tim Drake, son of Janet and Jack Drake, ward of Bruce Wayne and third Robin to Batman.

He literally thought he was Danny Fenton waking up in a strange dimension. After his initial panic calmed down Danny, or rather Tim had anaylized his situation and figured out, he was remembering his past life. It made the most sense. At first that was easy to deal with, until Tim one day fell through the floor. Thankfully neither Bruce, Alfred or Dick had noticed that incident. But to Tim, that meant he unlocked his abilities from his past life.

Which how was he going to explain that? 'Oh hey Bruce, I woke up and I don't have a meta gene but I remember my past life and now I have ghost abilities.' Yeah... that would go really well with the paranoid old man. Someone Tim was currently babysitting until that man recovered from his grief.

That brought Tim to his next dilemma. Because he remembered Danny Fenton read comics, while he mostly read comics centered around Martian Manhunter his past self thankfully had a friend that was into Batman and had discussed the comics with him. That was lucky for Tim. Because Tim wasn't stupid, he had seen other kids at school read these kind of books before. So he was aware that he was currently experiencing and living through the plot of one of these reincarnations book.

A part of him was partially sure that he could blame that on some of his ghostly friends from his past life.

Eitherway, thanks to his past life's friend. Tim had knowledge of the future, even if he didn't remember everything. Bad point, he had by now figured out in which timeline he was. Or at least Tim believed he had, which meant he was to late to prevent the fall of the second Robin, but if he calculated right either Damian was going to appear soon or he would be joining the Teen Titans which meant one step closer to going to get attacked by an enraged second Robin coming back. There were targets painted on his back. At least he wasn't at the point at time where he had another insane fruitloop obsessed with him.

Tim groaned. "I swear if this life were a novel it would be called, 'how to survive your siblings rage after awakening to your past life'."

There was a pause in the moment where Tim just let his mind wander. Before sitting straighter and getting to work onto the things he needed to suppress his ghost powers for the moment as well as making plans for the inevitable appearance of his future siblings. He just hoped he remembered the order of events correctly let alone that they were from the timeline he was in, otherwise he would be screwed.

"And that is, if I really only remembered my past life and did not taking over another kids life.... And Ancients... please don't let this be a Joker Jr. timeline...."

[gffa]

I have been drifting back to STAR WARS fandom lately and I have been greatly rewarded for it, especially in the gen fic veins, because there have been some banger fics authors have been putting out! And the thing that really gets me in the fannish heart is that there's more and more fics about the Jedi, both for exploring the characters and the culture. I have been able to find multiple fics that have been kind to Mace Windu! I have been able to find multiple fics that explain what attachment actually is to the Jedi and to Star Wars! I have been able to find multiple fics that lift my spirit up or punch me in the feelings in exactly the right way, both for the usual disaster lineage faves, but also for the Jedi as a whole. I'm serious, that means the world to me in this fandom, and I desperately want to share that with you all. LET ME SHOVE FIC AT YOU THAT LOVES THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS I DO!!

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ wayfinding by night by wrennette, obi-wan & luke & cast, time travel, 10.2k     Before him stood a fellow Jedi, worn and weary with loss. Obi-Wan finds himself on Ahch-To and helps Luke find a path through his grief. ✦ may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories, leia & bail & anakin & cast, 2.5k     When your father dies, say the Coruscanti, you are left clutching a star map for a different galaxy. In this, as in many things, Leia is her fathers' daughter. ✦ No Freedom From the Storm (But Peace In Its Midst) by Be_Right_Back, mace & cast, ~1k     Mace is freefalling. On his way down, he meets Hatred, and reaches for Serenity. ✦ "...if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 3.9k     Ahsoka doesn't leave the Jedi Order. This does not save Anakin. This was never going to save Anakin. Nor stop him. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal, time travel, 47.4k wip     Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi's weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, 2.8k     Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu's body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin's body on Tatooine. ✦ Well Met by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme (unconsumated) & corde & anakin, 19k     "Here and then gone again," Padmé said. "It must be lonely." "Sometimes," Obi-Wan said. "But a Jedi is never truly alone."

THIS FANDOM HAS A HAMMER AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF NAILS AND A REALLY GOOD STAPLE GUN, WE'RE FIXING WHAT CANON BROKE AND NOBODY CAN STOP US NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Begin again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 78.9k     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. ✦ Repetition by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & obi-wan, time loop, 3k     Cody wakes up from a nightmare on the way to Utapau, again and again.

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ it's like i can feel time moving by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 5.4k     “Hi,” Anakin says. It's after midnight. “Is everything alright?” “Can’t a man stop by his old master’s room?” Obi-Wan stares at him blankly. “Are you out of food?” ✦ yes, I will take you / I will love you, again by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 2.5k     "So you have tried, Padawan." Qui-Gon takes a moment, and his expression is steely but not unkind--the one Obi-Wan remembers from particularly grueling training sessions. "Would you try again, if you had the chance?" OWK!Obi-Wan gets another chance, with a child he once left behind. ✦ No Good Deed Goes Unpunished by kittona, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k     Anakin gets a bit overprotective when his loved ones are sick. Luckily, he has the best home remedy for a cold. ✦ nothing a cup of tea can't fix by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.5k     when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former padawan and grand padawan are. or Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit. ✦ Stick Figures by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 2k     war is hard. war is draining. to make it more bearable, little mementos* are routinely given. *mementos: encouraging notes, funny little drawings, little gifts, fun snacks, and poems which might get Anakin in trouble. ✦ When the Ground Breaks by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.7k     An earthquake causes devastation on the planet of Berchest. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka work together to help save civilians until disaster pulls them apart. ✦ never fear, young one by marverse, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 6.2k     Ever since her first day of being a padawan, Ahsoka Tano remembers the words that Master Skywalker had once told her. And every time, she wonders, wonders, and wonders. ✦ the street's a little kinder when you're home by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k     "So catch me up," Anakin says. "What did I miss?” Nothing. Nothing happens when you’re gone. “Oh, the usual.” [or: anakin goes missing. obi-wan doesn't handle it well.] ✦ holding anchor by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.2k     At the landing of Point Rain, an injured Obi-Wan allows himself to be sentimental over his former padawan, and Anakin patches up his old master. ✦ Nothing to Say by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & satine, 3.2k     (or: Anakin and Satine don’t know how to talk to each other. Until they remember the very important thing they have in common.) ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by SkyBlue1309, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 2.2k     People forget that Anakin was raised by the Negotiator. He was bound to pick up on a thing or two. ✦ At The Window by Peppermint_Shamrock, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k     In the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan searches for him in the Temple. ✦ The Words by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k     Obi-Wan Kenobi has never said I love you in his life. He can say a lot of other things, though.

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra. ✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Temple vs. Order 66 by LauraBWrites, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & jedi & jedi temple, 3.9k     The Temple cannot defy the Will of the Force. But it can, it will prepare for the possible outcomes. It can damn well fight back. ✦ We Three Runaways. by Aethir, obi-wan & depa & komari, 2.7k     In which Depa and Obi-Wan bond, and a new sister is found. ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures.

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM: ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin & mace, 1.5k wip     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, time travel, 4.3k wip     Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ if I could find solid ground again by maragny, anakin & depa, 1.5k     “You never told me what we’re doing today,” Anakin says, a little hesitant. “I…I don’t know much about Jedi things yet.” "Good thing we’re not doing Jedi things, then,” Depa replies. “We’re cooking!” Or, Anakin and Depa, finding their places in their family. ✦ Birds Fly in Different Directions by Triscribe, jedi & clones, time travel, 14.6k     In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

✦ The Master, The Padawan, and The Force by Pandora151, padme & ahsoka, 1.9k     Padmé Naberrie was never one to procrastinate. More than that, she maintained a steady, consistent schedule — something that she’d managed to keep ever since she was a Padawan. She was always on top of everything, from her responsibilities with the war to training her own Padawan, Ahsoka. She was well-known throughout the Order for being steady, reliable. And most notably, no matter what, she didn’t just forget things. Which made her current situation all the more…ridiculous. ✦ Off-by-one Error by Jessepinwheel, obi-wan & cast, 12.2k     A stranger appears in the Jedi Temple. Nobody knows who he is or where he came from. Nobody knows what has happened to him except that it must have been something truly terrible. The stranger's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. ✦ splinters of light by wrennette, dooku & jocasta & sifo-dyas & yoda & jaster & jango & cast, time travel, 22.5k     When Dooku's dying consciousness was sent back into his younger body, at first he remembered only that something important would happen on Korda VI, and soon. His investigations brought both clarity and confusion, and a conviction that he must atone for evils not yet enacted. ✦ The Road that Reaches by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & yoda & depa & shmi, 11.5k     As the Council sits down on Naboo to consider the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi's request to take young Anakin Skywalker as his padawan, they're informed of what transpired on Tatooine – and that Anakin used to be a slave. Mace Windu goes to interview the young child to confirm this, and gets rather more than he signed up for. ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin &/ mace, 5.1k     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, kanan/cal & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Resilience by TemporaryUniverse, obi-wan & mace, 3.3k     Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself. ✦ The Buried Truth is Your Favorite Lie by Peppermint_Shamrock, dooku & yoda, ~1k     Dooku tries and fails to leave the past behind. ✦ Hanging On by the Last Threads of Our Hope by IllyanaA, ahsoka & rex, 5.2k     Ahsoka and Rex have endured too much. After the Fall, they stay together until they can't, but the Force has a way of bringing them back together. It's a fact for which both of them are immeasurably grateful.

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Future Tense by CeruleanTactician, obi-wan & anakin & luke, time travel, 1.4k     Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves twenty years in the future, where they meet a young man by the name of Luke Skywalker. ✦ Keepsakes by Coalmine301, obi-wan & leia, 2k     “You were the one who gave me my bantha, weren’t you?” “Yes,” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. “Your father told me they were your favorite animal. At least then it was.” ✦ Why the Sith Don't Have Class Reunions by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & palpatine & maul & dooku & ventress, time travel, 1.9k     Sith apprentices rarely agree with one another (there’s a reason for the Rule of Two, after all), but Darth Sidious is starting to think that it’s worse when they do. ✦ My Dear Padawan by Tulak_Hord, luke & yoda & palpatine, time travel, 3.2k     In which a time-travelling Luke Skywalker successfully saves the Galaxy in perhaps the most horrifying manner imaginable. ✦ The Return by Pandora151, obi-wan & leia & haja, 1.4k     Haja wonders about the others. He wonders about the people he’s sent to the Path from Daiyu — not just Kenobi and the Princess, but that Force-sensitive boy and his mother, the Nautolan teenager from a few weeks ago, the young Kel Dor child and his even younger siblings. Did they all make it home? Are they safe? Was all of this worth it? ✦ Message From Guiding Light by Batsutousai, obi-wan & leia & mace, time travel, 2.2k     Ben and Leia never make it to Mapuzo on the borrowed supply shuttle, instead finding themselves in the middle of the Clone Wars.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ Not A Moment Too Soon by Triscribe, depa & kanan & cast, 2k     The first time she stumbled, her padawan said nothing, simply offering his shoulder for her to lean on. ✦ Parallel Lines by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, time loop, 10.7k     Darth Vader leans back in his chair, allowing a small smile to form on his lips, hidden by his helmet. “There is no escape from this, Obi-Wan,” he utters. He looks down at the neat line of text, and the Force echoes his words. “No escape from the past.” ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, ca/kanan & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats by TessaDoesThings, mace & depa & kanan & ezra, 19k     All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too. ✦ a princess, a farmer, a teacher by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.4k     Early in the morning, a girl and few men knock on a door. They don't wear anything resembling a soldier, but Obi-Wan has been a soldier long enough to notice the tense shoulders and wary looks beneath civilian clothing. She doesn't wear anything resembling a princess, but Obi-Wan knows these fierce eyes and grace coming from a righteous cause. or A New Hope AU where Vader doesn't attack Leia's ship and Leia herself delivers the news to Obi-Wan and consequently Obi-Wan doesn't die. ✦ What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost by Triscribe , depa & kanan & cast, time travel, 1.2k     “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And where is my padawan?” ✦ when that day comes by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & maul, modern au/reincarnation au, 44.8k     [or: the alternate universe where anakin skywalker has the chance at some new life…but only if he saves the life of a reincarnated obi-wan kenobi. the catch: neither of them know who the other was in the galaxy far, far away…but that might very well change.]

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt 6

Pt1. Pt2. Pt3. Pt4. Pt5.

Kon could immediately tell something was wrong with the kryptonite weapons firing at them. Another green blur shot at himnand he spun in the air over it. A move to evade the blast and check on his family.

The kryptonite guns had just enough kryptonite for it to be dangerous only if the blast hit them. They'd immediately go down. Another blast entered his field of vision, and he swerved to the side. He tried to use his supervision but was only met with lead. They couldn't get closer because of the guns, and he could see Jon get angrier his eyes glowed red in warning of his laser, and Kon flew up to evade him.

"Superboy! Don't use them it could deflect -" his father spoke from his higher position quite a few paces away from them, but Jon ignored him.

The vision hit the gun, and the metal melted into orange, red, and green mess. Like an ugly Christmas tree. Weird. Usually, Luthor would have more security than this. Something is officially wrong.

The batjet he'd been keeping an ear out for since he left finally arrived just as Jon melted another one. The jet swerved the blasts even though he doubted it could even hurt them at this point. The jet shot st a few of the blaster and destroyed them an even more explosive mess. Kon used his own vision, his glasses held in place below the lasers on his face with his hand. Another gun exploded, and his father finally got the hint and exploded several of his own.

The jet careened around them and expertly angled between the already destroyed guns and landed onto the beach. He continued exploding the guns but kept an ear out for the bats on the beach. The ones closest to him were mostly destroyed, so he joined his father in his sector while Jon landed on the beach.

Good luck.

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

Jason was not having a good time at all. Not to say he expected to have a great time rescuing his little brother, but he was hoping to try to get some of the bubbling green rage under control by demolishing some robots. He may possibly not have the best guns for demolishing these robots, he was handling it of course, he was a bat after all, he'd be an even worse disappointment if he couldn't handle some glowing green robots that remind him heavily of thing he'd prefer to leave in the past. He risked a glance toward Dick and could see him take down several robots in an expert acrobatic movement that sent him soaring off each of their head and switching between crushing or electrocuting them with his escrima sticks. Show off.

One of the robots he was fighting suddenly crackled and burned a smoking trail into the sky before exploding and sent himself and several other robots crashing into the walls and each other. It must have been faulty wiring. He knew he didn't touch that one, Babs was still mostly blocked out, and none of his siblings were running to patronize him for getting hurt. If he didn't know better, he'd say the robots were cheaply made, but that's never been Lex Luthors style.

"Red Hood. Help Red Robin turn the robots off in the central monitor room. We need to manually plug Oracles systems into the computers here." Right. Thank you, Bruce, for always being there at the worst possible times. He groaned and attempted to shake the tweeting birds away from his head.

"On it, Batman." He couldn't bring himself to use any stupid nicknames right now. He cataloged all the other bats just in case. Goldie was still the same show off. Red Robin had knocked out his robots and joined him for destroying his wave. Spoiler and Signal were in the rafters doing... something with his powers and reflective baterangs. He wasn't touching that with a fifty foot pole no way. They had a tendency to make things explode with those things. Orphan and Batman were still outside the burning hole in the wall they blasted to get through, so he couldn't find them, but they were probably kicking ads anyway. Suddenly, Tim launched himself backward through the air using his staff and landed behind him, hunkering down and messing with his wristcomputer. That assshole definitely planted explosives. He quickly got one last hit on the current robot and used it to launch himself past his head. Just as he landed, several small bombs exploded on the robots and collided with each other, creating more explosions.

"Time to go Hood."

"Lead on, Replacement."

----------

Why does Superman always disrupt my plans? Not just Superman, he reminds himself, he'd brought their son and his brother. As well as Daniel's family or Damian, whatever. The bats were the worst destroying his robots and his walls. Okay, maybe he didn't have the best robots here because they might be missing quite a few parts and kryptonite. But he needed for the portal, and both Vlad Masters and Lex Luthor were anything but resourceful.

The monitor beeped erratically. Gods above if Damian was going to flatline again. He technically wasn't flatlining but pumping ectoplasm through his heart instead of blood at that moment, and that messed with moniters, and when that happens, nurses get all hysterical and almost actually flatline him.

It wouldn't be such a problem if Damian wasn't severely lacking ectoplasm. Typically, his blood was made of both of it. All that rest from the medicine induced coma that he put him in certainly helped him fight the corruption and was now creating his own. See, if only Damian listened to him more often. It'd be better for everyone.

The moniter died down again, and he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"Whatever am I going to with you?" He muttered with his head leaning back.

"Maybe stop beating me up." He shot up toward the voice. He wasn't supposed to be awake yet, but this was better anyway. He had to get him into the portal before the bats destroyed all the robots. Another litte voice in his brain betrayed him and reminded him the portal was still not done, and they were closing in.

"Little Badger, you know I don't start fights. I end them." He reprimanded.

"And you know I hate that nickname, and we both know you start fights all the damn time."

"Language." Damian stared unimpressed at him. How was he meant to explain this? The supers and bats somehow discovered where we are and are fighting their way in and are currently tearing the main control room apart? Actually, that isn't that bad.

He told Damian just that, and somehow, he didn't seem to like his paraphrasing. Can't please anyone anymore.

"What do you mean my family is here? How could they track us? This isle is supposed to be superproof."

"I don't know, but I don't have some ideas. I believe Susan has betrayed our trust and ratted us out. I will unfortunately have to fire her, and I was just beginning to like her." He sighed. All the best employees turn out to be useless and disloyal. That's why he prefers A.I. Until it started to betray him, too. Ugh. Never get good help anywhere nowadays.

"Vlad! Focus! I need to get to the portal right now!" He winced.

"Well, about that -" Damian shot up and stumbled on his legs from not moving for two weeks, probably. He reached to steady him.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone." His godson growled and scampered past him. He left the medical area and quickly started studying his current readings and calculations.

" I've already checked hundreds of times. I can't find out what's wrong with it." He tried to explain but was forced to watch, and Damian grabbed a random red pen and started scribbling all over his things. He sighed again. Teenagers.

"I've got it!" Oh you've got to be kidding me!

"You're trying to create your fancy portal. We don't have the time or materials for that, but we can recreate The Fenton Portal. Most of the ectoplasm is soda anyway. I stashed some in the fridge around here since you banned me from drinking it while we were working." He explained already halfway across the lab and opening a fridge labeled 'chemicals only'. Why does he even try anymore?

More alerts were popping up. Most of his robots were down now and the last remaining ones were the brainless ones not connected to the central computer that luckily he didn't have connected to some of his tech just in case, including this lab. Which now meant he would need to take control of the robots himself. Unless he wanted them to be defeated in less than a minute. Luckily again, most of the kryptonite he had that he hadn't rerouted into the portal was inside those portals.

"I'm going to attack your family now." He announced, cracking his knuckles and hacking into his own robots easily.

"Don't kill them, or I'd have to kill you." He replied, ripping and welding parts together. He's pretty sure he just watched him weld something together with 7up. Nope. Not today.

-----------

Jon was feeling...off. He, for some strange reason, felt an urge to let himself be hit by the kryptonite. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way, he instinctively wanted to be...with the kryptonite. Something that is incredibly dangerous to kryptonians like him even if he's only half.

For a while, he dodged guns, destroyed guns, destroyed robots, and then the Reds destroyed the main computer, and most of the robots deactivated until... the robots suddenly started to get stronger and smarter.

TV moniters suddenly flickered on and Lex Luthor was displayed.

"Luthor! Return Damian Wayne now to uss and we will consider lessening your sentence." His father spoke loudly, assuming mics were around somewhere.

"Oh really? You've never been able to get those charges to stick before. What make you think they'll suddenly stick now?" He mocked cruelly.

"You won't get away with this, this time, Luthor." Batman threatened.

"Coming from the man who can even get a failed circus clown to stay in prison? I think I'll be fine."

"Luthor, I know that something is going on. If you tell us we can help you." Nightwing spoke masterfully, emphasizing the man who stole his little brother. He didn't trust he wouldn't stare screaming and yelling at the crazy fruitloop if he tried to say anything. Wait-fruitloop? Where did that come from? He shook his head to clear the thought, but he somehow made eye contact with the shadow he suspected to be Orphan. Who is somehow emitting a very concerned aura. He ignored that and focused on the conversation just in time to hear large explosions from the TV.

"Damian!" Nightwing yelled out. Superman glanced around wildly as if trying ti will himself into seeing or hearing through lead.

He was concerned... but he didn't feel as worried as he should be for his best friend. Like he was definitely worried but he had a gut feeling he would be fine. And a little exasperated for some reason.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back to work! If we don't get that portal open before they find us, I'm going to rearrange your organs upside down!" Luthor yelled behind him. He could feel his face heat up, and he covered his eyes just in case.

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Nightwing yelled at the screen. Batman was starting at his wrist screen as if it would disappear if he looked away. The shadow had slunked away sometime. Spoiler and Signal nowhere to be seen.

"What are you gong to do? Reach through the screen and throttle me?" He taunted.

The screen suddenly started to glitch out in green bursts. It reminded him of kryptonite but...

"I've found them. Follow these directions. I'm almost there myself." He overheard Signal from Batmans comms. He repeated them twice, but he had already grabbed Nightwing and saw his dad grab his own bat. They couldn't go as fast as he wanted to because of the tight spaces, making superspeed dangerous to the supports. If they went too fast, the building could go down on them. They went faster than they should have anyway.

They reached the door where Signal, Spoiler, and Orphan were trying to wrench the doors off the hinges using several blowtorches and a misshapen crowbar.

"I've got it." He set Nightwing on the ground and cleared the door off the hinges just to see a large explosion of green. And Lex Luthor shooting powered up kryptonite(?) from his hands.

He dodged the blasts but his father wasn't able to and was sent flying to the wall smoking.

"Dad!" He screamed his anger at him forgotten. He flew over him and he vaguely remembers a yellow blur following him.

There was a smoking crater on his chest. Burns of all degrees decorating his suit.

"Dad?" He collapsed to the floor infront of him.

"It's okay, Jon. It's not that... bad... it looks worse than is. I promise. Go...bakc to the...fight." his dad spoke, his voice cracking, and he knew his dad was completely powered down. He had to get him to the sun.

"I'm getting you out of here." He promised and gathered him into his arms carefully. He was about to laser several random walls down when Signal handed him the closest trajectory to the outside.

"Hurry. We can handle this." He lied. They couldn't handle a powered Luthor, and he's couldn't let his dad die. He nodded and turned his head away, and his eyes lit up in burning pools of red.

----------

The green was mesmerizing. The only word Cass could describe it. Like it was the only thing that could understand her. It reminded her of the Lazarus Pits.

She ran inside with Spoiler, Nightwing, and Batman close behind. Luthor tried to shoot at them, but they dodged skillfully. She looked past him and could see Damian typing madly on a computer. His movements were deliberate, and he knew what he was doing, but his body betrayed hum to her. His fingers were still, but his wrist twisted slightly too much. His ankles shifted weight between one another. His head tilted backward like he was physically stopping himself from looking at them.

"Damian!" Nightwing vaulted over a blast.

Damian froze for a second but willed himself to continue with new determination, painting his body. Something wasn't right. He should be running to them. Telling them he had a plan they ruined but would pause for enough time they knew he was struggling if they asked for it.

"Damian? We're here to save you!" Nightwing dodged another blast. She could see his plan. Distract both Damian and luthor. It was working, too. Luthor was occssionly shooting her, but he'd all but forgotten about Batman and Spoiler in the rafters.

Damian wasn't at all easily distracted she could tell from his headtilt he was watching them. He sped up the computer. The large portal machine expanded, and greens swirled around.

"Shut it down, Damian!" Nightwing shouted, attempting to rush luthor but failing. She launched herself using the distraction to take luthor out. He is somehow stronger than she can remember flung her off rough enough she hit the wall. She saw stars and failed to rise. Her vision was blurring, but she could see Batman's blurry figure attempting to subdue luthor and succeeding. Where's spoiler?

There she is! Spoiler kumped down on top of Luthor and put meta cuffs on him using the elemnt of suprise. Nightwing reached Damian just as the portal exploded, adding unfamiliar purples mixed in. Nightwing was thrown back, but he recovered and ran back. Batman and Luthor struggled in vain for control. She blinked, and Spoiler was a purple blur at her side.

Her body riddled with worry. She reached out and gently prodded her for injuries.

"Fine. Help little... brother." she tried to say, but it was mostly slurred from the blood loss. Spoiler glanced at her nervously and took out her field aid.

"No. Fine." She attempted to convey, but she just shushed her quietly. She turned back to the fight just in time to catch Damian slip through the portal. Nightwing didn't hesitate to run after him.

"No!" Her father's voice and anguished growled after watching two sons slip through. He tried to follow them, but Luthor got free and broke the computer powering. Just as Batman reached the edge, he hesitated, and the portal fizzled out.

She tried to stay awake but the gentle shushing from Spoiler lulled her into the embrace of darkness.

---------

Dick Grayson hit the strange glowing bluish snow and rolled to a soft stop. He looked around frantically and spotted Damian kneeling on the ground. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and his face was screwed up in pain.

"Damian!" He ran to him and kneeled by his side, hesitating to grab his son if he was injured but wanting to scoop him up after being missing for two months now.

"You shouldn't be here." He murmured but he leaned against him heavily.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. We almost thought you were dead." He gave up looking for physical injuries apart from the maybe a mix between 1st and 2nd degree burns and clutched his son to his chest.

"It's not...safe for you...here."

"And it is for you?" He gathered him in his arms best he could, minding the burns on him. Neither of them were wearing clothes meant for the storm.

The strange snow was colder than any snow he's ever seen before, and it had an otherworldly component to it. Another point for the interdimensinal portal. Behind then sharp hissing screeched behind them and the greens snd purples disappeared. Shit. That was their way out.

"Who goes there?" A large voice echoed from the trees and he cursed himself for not studying his surrounding more. A large...yeti? Emerged from the pine trees he wore armor and had a ice prosthetic hand. He looked mean and rugged.

"Frostbite!" Damian yelled from his arms and started struggling. He gripped him tighter. Like hell, he was letting him loose after everything. Even if he somehow knew this kinda of cool looking yeti. The yetis eyes lit up in what he thinks his recognition.

"Great one? Have you returned to us? Who is this?" The yetis voice was softer but still dangerous he kept his mouth shut and hoped Damian knew what to say.

"My-baba? We need to get your village. I need some help." Wow. Damian had never acknowledged he was anything other than his older brother before. If he wasn't a bat and damn good at compartmentalizeing, he'd probably start crying. Or pass out. Probably both.

"All right then, Great One. Any family or friends of his is friends of ours. Follow me."

Which is how he came to be standing in the middle of an entire town of yetis getting scrutinized by Frostbite(?).

"So how did you meet our King? I've never seen you before." He questioned curiously. What the actual fuck did he get into now.

[cowboybeepboop]

Hidden Passion

"I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5200

Summary: Kate invites you along to the group's camping trip and you’ve decided you finally have had enough of Scott’s indifference to you.

Warnings: p in v sex, semi public, unprotected sex, jealous Scott bc I like him jealous

A/n: I’m having fun with all the twisters smut 😭 hopefully you all enjoy. At some point I’m gonna write some more top gun maverick stuff. But as always, let me know if you have any ideas/requests for me 🤗

Boone is your twin brother, which means that you spend all of your time following him and his friends around. Because you’re the ‘responsible’ twin and mostly because his friends really know how to have fun.

Regardless, Boone has been extra careful bringing you around because he’s under the impression that you have a thing for Tyler. So of course when Kate invited you along to their camping trip you just knew you were going to get on his nerves by flirting with the cowboy.

Your brother was right about one thing: you do have a crush on one of his friends. Who just so happens to be the biggest asshole out of them all. Scott. So it's a win-win situation, you can piss Boone off and see if Scott even gives a shit. Even though you know Scott only came along because Javi is trying to get with Kate.

You’re sitting across from the fire with your knee touching Tyler’s, a small smile on your face as you notice your brothers stare. You could tell already that Boone was dreading having you there, but that was part of the reason you wanted to go in the first place. To piss him off.

Scott is sat off to the side with Javi and Kate, he’s drinking a beer with his usual scowl on his face. ”Hey, wanna make some s’mores?” Your cheerful voice rings out through the night air.

Scott’s scowl deepens as he hears your sweet tone, and seeing you talking to Tyler does nothing to improve his mood. He takes a long sip from his beer, trying to quell the growing irritation in his chest.

The rest of the group has mixed reactions but Tyler grabs a stick and puts a marshmallow at the end. “Do you want me to roast it for you darlin’?” You grin up at him.

“Yes, I’d like that.” You rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the flames.

As he watches Tyler roast a marshmallow for you, Scott's jaw tightens. He mutters under his breath, "Darlin'....what a load of bullshit." Your eyes flicker over to Scott and you give him a small smile.

Scott catches your smile and huffs in response, his expression remaining grumpy. He tries to ignore you, taking another sip from his beer, but he can't shake off the irritation that's bubbling up within him.

He glances back at you, noticing you're still talking to Tyler, the marshmallow still roasting in his hand. Scott's grip tightens around his beer bottle, trying to keep his anger in check.

You lean over Tylers lap reaching for the graham crackers and a chocolate bar. Tyler’s free hand goes to your lower back as you hover over him. “Wow there darlin’ be careful.” He chuckles as you find yourself on the log again, the cracker and chocolate prepared for the hot marshmallow.

Scott's eyes narrow as he sees Tyler's hand go to your lower back. His grip on the beer bottle tightens even more, his knuckles turning white. The sight of you leaning over Tyler's lap ignites a fire of jealousy within him.

Your brother's glare bores a hole into the back of your head, his arms crossing over chest. “He’s kind of scary when he’s mad like that,” you whisper to Tyler as he completes the s’more.

“Seems like your plan is back firing on you,” he replies with a smirk, handing the treat your way. You nod as you take a bite of the dessert, a smear of chocolate left on your bottom lip.

Tylers smirk grows wider as his eyes flick to your lip, his thumb moving to swipe the chocolate away. Scott's scowl deepens as he watches Tyler smirk and the way he swipes the chocolate away from your lip. He can feel the anger boiling within him, his grip on the beer bottle almost painful now.

Boone however wasn’t going to sit by and watch you two flirt all night, he gently grabs your arm pulling you away. “What are you doing?” Boone sits you down in between Scott and Javi.

“Stay there.” Your brother commands you like a dog, earning a grin from you.

“I’ve gotten banished,” you say to Javi, nudging his arm with your elbow, turning to Scott to smile at him. He's still fuming over the interaction with Tyler, but your presence next to him has a way of lessening his irritation, even if just a little bit.

Scott takes another gulp of his beer, trying to ignore the jealousy that's still gnawing at him. Javi laughs, "Banished, huh? Can't say I'm surprised." You giggle in response.

“Well in my defense I never thought Boone would get so bothered.” Javi shakes his head with a bright smile.

The night drags on, and the group slowly disperses into their tents, leaving just you, Scott, and the crackling fire in the center of the campsite. You’re both a few drinks deep at this point, and the alcohol has done little to quell Scott’s sour mood.

He glances at you sitting across from him as he takes another swig from his beer. The fire casts a warm glow on your face, and despite his best efforts, Scott can't help but find you somewhat attractive even in the dim lighting.

”Scott?” You murmur his name. Scott looks up as you speak his name, his eyes focusing on your face. He tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding the slight hitch in his breath at the sound of your voice.

"Yeah?" Scott replies, his tone gruff, as he raises an eyebrow in your direction. Scott watches you move closer to him, his eyes tracing the movement of your body. He tries to ignore the way his heart rate picks up at your proximity.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You reach for his half empty bottle, he tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it.

"Why, tryin' to cut me off?" Scott asks, his voice a mixture of defensiveness and irritation.

”Maybe,” you huff, still trying to steal his bottle, “why won't you let go.” Scott stubbornly tightens his grip on the beer bottle as you reach for it again. He can feel the heat from your body sitting next to him, and his heart rate quickens at your proximity.

Scott grunts in frustration, "Damn it, just leave it alone," he snaps, his voice betraying his rising irritation. You flinch away crossing your arms under your chest.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” You grumble. Scott notices your reaction and internally scowls at himself for snapping at you. Seeing you pout and cross your arms ignites a strange mixture of frustration and guilt within him.

He takes a deep breath as he watches you sulk, trying to calm his irritation. "Look, I'm...," he starts, his voice gruff, "I didn't mean to snap at you like that." You steal the bottle away successfully.

“I know, that’s why I’m trying to cut you off.” You smile triumphantly, wrapping your fingers around the bottle. “You’re even more of a grump than usual.”

He bristles at your comment about him being a grump, but he can't deny the truth in your words. "I'm always a grump," he retorts, begrudgingly, "especially when I'm around you."

You finish off his drink, swiping at your lips as you give him the empty beer bottle. “What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Scott watches as you finish off the beer and swipe your lips with your fingertips. He can't help but notice the way your actions send a jolt of desire through him.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, "I mean that you always seem to rile me up, in one way or another." His statement confuses you.

“Scott, how do I rile you up?’” You’re offended by his words, “Are you saying I piss you off?” Scott rolls his eyes at your question, the alcohol making it harder to suppress his true feelings.

He lets out a scoff, "No, no, not piss me off," he grumbles. "You...you just...get under my skin," he admits begrudgingly. You scoot closer to him on the log, the alcohol you’ve consumed through the night giving you confidence.

“Under your skin how?” You narrow your eyes at him, Scott lets out a growl of frustration as you move closer to him on the log. He can feel the warmth of your body radiating towards him, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks at you as you narrow your eyes at him, and he's hit with the urge to pull you even closer, to run his hands over your body, to taste the alcohol on your lips.

He grits his teeth, trying to control his thoughts as he responds. "You just...always seem to do things that get a rise out of me," he admits through clenched teeth.

”You’re saying a whole lot of nothing Scottie.” Your voice is stern. Scott's irritation sparks at your firm tone of voice, but it's overpowered by the way his heart skips a beat hearing his nickname leave your lips.

He huffs in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. "You just...you're always so damn cheerful and friendly, goddamnit," he mutters, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

”There’s nothing wrong with being friendly” Scott scowls at your words, his frustration growing as he tries, and fails, to articulate his feelings. He knows there's nothing wrong with being friendly, but your friendliness always seems to make his heart race.

"I know that..." he mutters irritably, his eyes scanning your face as he tries to find a way to explain his tumultuous feelings. You set your hand on his knee as you move even closer to him.

“Scott?” You sigh, still not understanding what he’s meaning, maybe it's the booze or his lack of proper communication.

Scott's heart leaps at the touch of your hand on his knee, a jolt of electricity coursing through him. He can feel the heat of your body next to his, and it takes everything in him to maintain his resolve.

At the sound of his name on your lips, he groans, "Goddamnit, stop sayin' my name like that."

“Like what, Scottie?” You tease, Scott's heart flutters at the sound of you saying his nickname again, his frustration mixing with a surge of desire.

He mutters under his breath, "There it is again," he replies gruffly, his tone a mix of irritation and something deeper. "You say my name like it's a damn melody, and it drives me crazy."

A playful smirk places itself on your lips as you lean forward pressing your palms onto his thighs, your face inches away from his. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean forward, your palms on his thighs sending a wave of heat through his body.

He can feel the warmth of your breath on his face, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to close the distance between you and capture your lips with his. He swallows hard, trying to keep his composure. "What are you doing?" he manages to ask, his voice a hoarse whisper.

”I just wanted to get a closer look,” your smirk grows as you watch his expression. Scott's heart races at your proximity, his breath coming in short gasps. He can feel the heat of your gaze on his face, your smirk driving him crazy, and all he wants to do is pull you into his lap and taste those lips.

He grits his teeth, struggling to keep his cool. "And what exactly are you looking for?" he asks huskily, his eyes locked on yours.

“I think I see a little bit of a blush on your cheek.” Scott's heart skips a beat as you touch his cheek, your fingertips tracing the outline of his cheekbone. He swallows loudly, trying to maintain his composure as your touch sends shivers of desire coursing through him.

He can feel his face growing hotter beneath your touch, and he knows his blush is becoming more prominent. "Shut up," he grumbles, stubbornly trying to deny the effect you're having on him.

“Don’t be like that, it's cute” Scott's breath hitches in his chest as you pull your body against his, your thighs pressing against his knees. He can feel the heat of your touch searing through him, igniting a fire within him.

He scowls at your words, his face growing hotter with each passing moment. "Cute?" he mutters, refusing to admit how desperately he craves your touch. You sigh with the realization that you’re gonna have to make the first move.

“Scott.. Close your eyes for a second.” Scott's eyebrows furrow in confusion as you instruct him to close his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but he complies, his eyelids slowly closing.

As he sits there, his eyes shut, he can feel his other senses heightened, attuned to every sound and every movement. "What now?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You cup his cheek, “Keep them closed, okay?” Your breath fans across his face as you lean in. He nods slightly in response, his eyes still firmly shut, his other senses hyper aware of your proximity.

He can feel the heat of your body against his, and his every instinct urges him to pull you even closer, but he remains still, waiting for your next move. You press a soft kiss to his lips, your other hand sliding up his thigh as you move closer.

Scott's heart nearly stops when your lips press against his, a jolt of desire coursing through him. He can feel your hand moving up his thigh, and the sensations sent his mind reeling.

He responds to your kiss, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jawline. You pull your lips away, your eyes scanning the expression on his face.

Scott's eyes slowly flutter open, his mind swirling with desire and need. He gazes at you, his eyes dark with emotion. He swallows hard, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. "Why..." he starts, his voice low and gruff, "why'd you do that?"

”Why not?” You murmur, leaning in for another kiss. Scott's breath catches in his chest as you lean in for another kiss, his body responding vehemently to your touch.

He allows himself to be consumed by the kiss, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you onto his lap. It becomes more heated as you push your chest against his own, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Scott groans loudly in response to your actions, the feeling of your body pressed against his and your fingers in his hair sending shivers down his spine.

His hands roam over your body, wanting to feel every inch of you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue expertly exploring your mouth, tasting the mixture of alcohol and sweetness.

You moan into his mouth at the roughness of his hands against your skin, “Scott, we should go to a tent…” you shiver at the cold air, “It’s getting cold,” Scott reluctantly breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged, his body aching with desire.

He nods in agreement, his mind clouded with lust, desperate to get you somewhere private. "Yeah..." he mutters, his hands still touching your body, almost reluctantly letting you slide off his lap. "Let's go."

You lead him to your tent, your hand comfortably holding his. You unzip the tent and slip inside, pulling off your boots as you sit on the air mattress that you forced your brother to set up.

Scott follows you into the tent, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of the situation hits him. He watches you kick off your boots and sit down on the air mattress, his eyes scanning your figure in the dim light of the tent.

He closes the tent behind him, zipping it up, and sits down next to you, his body inches away from yours. You smile up at him, the flush of his cheeks darker than before. “You’re so cute Scott,” Scott's heart skips a beat at your words, his cheeks growing even hotter under your gaze.

He huffs in feigned irritation, trying to hide the effect you have on him. "Shut up," he mutters, trying to sound gruff and annoyed, but the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

”Would you prefer being called handsome?” You tease, your hands reaching out to roam his body. Scott's breath catches in his chest as your hands move over his body, his heart racing in his chest.

He tries to maintain a cool exterior, but the way your touch ignites a fire within him is impossible to ignore. He scoffs, a mixture of annoyance and desire in his voice. "Handsome, cute, it's all the same damn thing," he mutters, trying to remain unaffected by your touch.

”But you love it, don’t you?” You mumble against his ear as you settle into his lap once again. Scott's breath hitches as you settle into his lap, your breath brushing against his ear. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his body practically buzzing with desire.

He growls in response to your words, his hands tracing the curve of your hips. "Damnit," he mutters, his voice a gruff whisper, "You know I do." You respond by kissing him. More passionate than before, your eyes flutter shut as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

Scott groans lowly in response to your passionate kiss, his hands gripping your hips almost possessively. He matches the intensity of the kiss, his tongue tanging with yours in a heated dance.

He pulls you flush against his chest, wanting to eliminate the space between you, the feeling of your body against his nearly driving him mad with desire. You lean against him pushing his back against the bed, hovering over him as you pull away from his lips, asking for air.

Scott's breath hitches as you push him back against the bed, your body hovering over him, dominating his every sense. He gazes up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his chest heaving with each breath he draws.

He reaches up, his hands finding your hips once again, desperately holding on as if he's afraid you might disappear. "You're killing me, you know that right?" he mutters, his voice rough with need.

”Then why don’t you do something about it?” You tease, you voice low and sultry. Scott's eyes darken at your words, a low growl escaping his lips. He flips you over, pinning you beneath him, his body pressed firmly against yours.

He gazes down at you, his eyes locked on yours, his voice a gruff whisper. "Be careful what you wish for, darlin'" he mutters, his lips hovering millimeters from your own. You arch up against his body, pressing your lips to his hungrily.

Scott's breath hitches in his chest at the feel of your body arching against his, the need coursing through him becoming nearly unbearable.

He kisses you back with equal fervor, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. His hands roam over your body, desperate to memorize every contour of your curves. Your arms wrap around his torso pulling him closer to you, your fingers pressing against his back.

Scott groans loudly at the feeling of your arms around him, your fingers tracing patterns against his back, sending shivers down his spine. He presses his body against yours, his desire and need for you escalating with each passing moment.

His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation of Scott's kisses along your collarbone, your body responding to his touch with eager anticipation.

His hands glide under your shirt, his rough fingertips tracing the sensitive skin of your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the tension in the air thicken, the electricity between you growing more intense with every passing second.

The sound of fabric rustling fills the tent as you both fumble with the buttons and zippers of your clothes, desperate to feel each other's skin against your own. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the raw desire in them leaving no room for doubt about what he wants, what you both want.

As the last barrier falls away, your bodies finally align in a dance of passion that's been building for what feels like an eternity, the cool night air forgotten against the heat of your union.

Scott's eyes darken even further as he takes in the sight of your exposed skin, his desire to taste and pleasure you becoming an all-consuming need. He shifts his position, sliding down your body, his hands firmly on your thighs as he spreads your legs wider.

You gasp as his mouth descends upon your pussy, his tongue eagerly flicking against your clit, teasing and exploring your folds with a hunger that's both thrilling and overwhelming. His movements are unbridled, driven by a passion that's been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long.

Each stroke, each lick, sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making you quiver and moan beneath him. You grip the blankets tightly, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he devours you, the heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the coolness of the tent's interior.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze only serving to heighten the intimacy of the moment. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with every flick of his tongue, and you know that this night is going to change everything between you.

As Scott's mouth continues its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh, you can't help but let out a series of muffled cries, biting down on the fabric of your shirt bunched in your hand to stifle the sounds of your pleasure. Your body tenses, your legs quivering as the first waves of your orgasm begin to crash over you. You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold on to the last shreds of your self-control, but it's no use.

With a final, desperate whimper, your climax takes you, your back arching off the mattress as your hips buck against his face. He doesn't relent, though, his tongue still working its magic as you ride out the intense sensations that grip you, the fabric of your shirt now damp with your efforts to remain silent.

When the tremors finally subside, you collapse back onto the bed, your chest heaving with the force of your gasps for air. Scott kisses his way back up your body, a smug smile playing on his lips as he claims your mouth once more, tasting the sweetness of your release.

The sound of your muffled moans only spurs him on, his own need for you growing with every second that passes. He can feel his cock straining, demanding release, but he's in no rush. For now, he's content to bask in the aftermath of your pleasure, knowing that the night has only just begun.

Scott lays down on the air mattress, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you on top of him, a silent invitation for you to take the lead. The feel of his hardened cock pressing against your still-sensitive core sends a fresh wave of desire through you, making your own need for him even more urgent.

You straddle him, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine as you line yourself up with his length. With a look of pure determination in your eyes, you slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him fill you up. A low moan escapes your lips as you adjust to the feeling of him inside you, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a mix of passion and challenge.

You begin to rock your hips, setting a slow and steady rhythm that has you both panting within moments. His hands grip your waist, guiding you as you move, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

Each movement sends a delicious friction through your body, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge again. Scott's eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive as you both succumb to the passion that's been brewing between you for so long.

Scott's quietude breaks as he becomes increasingly vocal with every sway of your hips, his breaths hitching in his throat as he watches you take control. His hands glide from your waist to your breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples in time with your movements.

His voice is low and gruff, a series of grunts and moans that seem to be ripped from the very depths of his soul, a primal response to the pleasure you're giving him. You lean into his touch, your own breaths coming in short gasps as you rock against him, the friction building into a crescendo of desire.

The sound of your bodies moving together fills the tent, the only music to accompany the symphony of your ragged breaths and moans. The feel of his strong hands on your body, the way he watches you with such raw hunger, it's all too much, and you know you're about to shatter once more.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into his chest, using it as leverage to drive yourself down harder onto him, the intensity of your movements growing with every stroke. His eyes never leave yours, the challenge in his gaze only making you want to push him further, to make him lose control in the way you're so close to doing. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion and desire.

Your moans sync perfectly with Scott's, rising and falling in tandem as your bodies move together in a timeless rhythm. You feel your orgasm building again, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. His eyes, still locked on yours, grow darker, his pupils dilating with the approaching storm of ecstasy.

You lean in, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss as you quicken your pace, the need to feel him come apart in your arms driving you on. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, his own hips bucking up to meet your movements.

The air in the tent grows thick with desire, the only sounds the slapping of your bodies and the muffled cries escaping from your mouths. And then, with one final, shuddering thrust, it hits you both. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body, making you tremble and clench around him.

Scott's grip on you tightens, his cock pulsing as he releases deep inside you , his own moan of pleasure melding with yours. The world outside the tent seems to fall away as you ride out the intense waves of your shared climax, your hearts beating as one, your bodies intertwined in a dance of pure, unfiltered passion.

When the storm finally subsides, you collapse against him, your breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breath, the tremors of pleasure still echoing through you. You can feel his heart racing beneath your cheek, a testament to the depth of his own release.

The silence that follows is filled with an understanding that transcends words, a bond forged in the heat of the moment that you know will never truly be broken.

You lay your head against his chest, breathing in his musk. Scott's breathing is ragged as he tries to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intensity of the moment you just shared. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, his body still buzzing with the aftermath of his climax.

He rests his cheek against the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against your back, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts. "That..." he finally manages to mutter, his voice hoarse and gravelly, "that was something else."

You smile as you cuddle closer to him, basking in his body heat. “We should do that again some time.” You giggle softly. Scott lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Damn right we should," he mutters, his arms holding you closer against his body.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he speaks again. "I don't think I'm ever gonna forget this night, darlin'. You've been drivin' me crazy for way too damn long."

”Have I?” You tease as your eyes flutter shut. Scott lets out a huff at your teasing tone, his arms tightening around you.

"You know you have," he mutters gruffly, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck once again. "You and your damn adorable smile, and your beautiful eyes, and your infuriatingly cute laugh..."

He trails off, his voice growing huskier as he continues to list off your desirable qualities. A blush paints your face as you bask in his compliments. “I didn’t know that you thought so highly of me.” You press gentle kisses into his muscles.

Scott lets out a low hum of pleasure at the feel of your kisses against his muscles, his body already responding to your touch.

"How could I not?" he mutters, his voice gruff and sincere. "You're goddamn perfect, darlin'. Smart, beautiful, kind, funny...the list goes on and on." You bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered by his words.

“Okay, okay. I think that’s enough now Scott…” your cheeks feel hot against his warm skin.

Scott lets out a low chuckle, feeling your flustered reaction against his neck.

"Awh, you're blushing," he teases, his hands roaming up and down your back. "And here I was just getting started..." He grins, enjoying seeing you flustered by his compliments.

But he acquiesces, not wanting to embarrass you further. He gently pulls your face back, so he can see your expression. You press a kiss against his lips, your eyes falling heavy as exhaustion comes over you in a wave.

Scott returns the kiss, his lips lingering against yours for a moment. He can feel your body growing heavy against his, your exhaustion evident.

He pulls you even closer, your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapping around you. "Let’s sleep, darlin'," he mutters softly, his voice gruff but caring. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Because you are my partner | Jun-ho x Fem!Detective!Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the end of S1 - Some events from S2 - Does not follow canon events in order - Angst - Guns - Unspoked feelings -

The first thing Jun-ho never expected to listen when he woke up at the hospital after being shot by his brother no less were cries and insults.

Insults that were for him.

"You stubborn idiot! Why did you not tell me, why did you go alone, look at you now. Fucker if you dont wake up im killing you myself, you little-"

"I thought you would be more worried" Jun-ho said, voice hoarse since he havent drank any water in a long time. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he could locate your voice anywhere.

"You! YOU ARE ALIVE!!" You revealed your red face from crying and went to hug him, trying not to hurt him. "Never do something like that again"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Time passed, Jun-ho got demoted from detective, even when you, the second best in the division besides him, you had threated to leave as well, but In-ho insisted you not to. He knew how much you had worked for this position, he would not let you fall behind cause of him.

"Its not fair" You said one night at his aparment being a bit drunk "Yeah, what you said its kind of crazy and you have no proof but..."

"(Y/N) stop it, its pointless"

"But you would never make a lie like that. You dont like crime, you hate it. Since your brother went missing...no you would never play with something like that" You said convinced taking a big gulp of your beer.

"I think you had enough beer for tonight" Jun-ho went to take the beer can from you but you held his hand.

"I believe you, I dont care how crazy it sounds I believe you Jun-ho"

Like that, he felt less lonely.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"I think I told you this was not something you should keep doing" Jun-ho told you as you passed iced coffee to his fellow companion and him. "We are not allowed to drink when working..."

"Then take a dam breath, its summer. The streets feels like they are on fire" You told him on a stern tone taking a sip from your own drink

"Should you not be at the sitation?" He asked

"You wont believe how much criminals like to do nothing when its as hot as today. We mostly get calls at night. Nothing like, well nothing like what you are looking for" You added in a quiet voice

"I told you, I left that behind"

"Yeah sure you did, you dont give up that easily, always has been like that. Since we were at the police school. And, you cant lie to me. Im your partner, remember ?"

"Actually-"

"Shut up and drink the dam ice coffee your cheecks are red as a fruit"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

One year went on. You were assigned anothet partner but you were being a bit childish and did not like working with him.

It was not his fault, you were just so used to Jun-ho that any other person just felt....wrong.

"(Y/N) you need to stop it" Jun-ho said while you two ate some lunch

"I know, but can you blame me? I cant work well with him, he is too-"

He is not you. Thats what you wanted to say but you had to bite your tongue.

"Is he misstreating you?" Jun-ho asked getting protective, he knew you had pass for hard situations during your training just because you were a women.

He would be on your side during these moments, both when you faked feeling strong and when you needed to vent out and cry.

"No. He is...different. I just need to get used to him"

"It has been almost a year..."

"I know just- give me some more time. Also I want to meet that captain that saved you. Maybe we can go and fish together.

Jun-ho went silent after it. He was reclutant to do so, since he had been looking for the island he was in, but he had told you he had long stopped, he did not want to put you at risk.

"Maybe tomorrow..." He said in a low voice, knowing that you would kept insisting. And maybe he would be able to keep the lie.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Things have been good so far, In-ho managed to convince you to meet him and the captain at a near restaurant.

The three were drinking in just enjoying the time. Sharing stories, jokes, just having a good time.

"Thanks for saving his ass, he can be quiet a pain" You said to the older men who just smiled.

"Dont say it Lass, he still has me looking around for that dam island..."

And the good time shattered, your eyes turned cold as you looked at him.

"Is he? Please tell me more captain"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"You told me you had stopped" You said angry at him. "Told me to stop looking into details at the deparment, do you know how much I did risk!"

"Yes! I know, thats why I told you to stop. I did not want you to put your career in danger"

"When will you understand ? You dont have to do this alone. Im your friend! Fuck we have know each other for years, if I want to help you and put my career at risk, then let me do it. Im an adult I know what im doing.

"No, I could never ask you for something like that. You know the story, these peopel are dangerous and well prepared if something would happen to you..."

"Do you think it was easy? For me? When you dissapear? There was no way on finding you, some told me to move on. But I never stopped beliving in you, knowing that you would not leave like that"

Of course not, I would never leave you.

"Listen, I understand. Really, but you cant stop me. I want to help you, and I will do so. Let me lend you a hand. Maybe this time you will catch them"

Jun-ho was conflicted, he knew having some backup would help him. But he did not want you at risk, why if you ended like him? Trapped there ? Or worse ?

But he also knew you were a hard one. Someone who once they had set their mind on something were not easy to give up. Maybe it would be better that way, making sure on having you at his side while he worked and looked for information.

"Alright, no more secrets. We will work on this together, but if something seems to be just a little bit dangerous you are out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

And like that another year went by. Both looking to find that island and whatever information (Y/N) could get from the station.

"Most are peopel with big debts" Jun-ho said one afternoon, the cold of the winter hitting their noses leaving them red. "Maybe some have criminal record"

"Yeah but their families would have to denounce then as lost. If these peopel just vanish some would think they ran away because of their debts. I will still check on the records..."

Jun-ho nodded grateful to have her working with him.

"You dont remember any name? Or face?" (Y/N) asked him, making him stop. He did remember his brother shooting him but he could never say it out loud. "The players used numbers..." Still him mind was working like he was missing something...

And then it clicked

"Wait...I may know someone"

"Really? You can tell me their name and I will look into it"

"Seong Gi-hun, thats the name"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure he is here?" Jun-ho asked a faint blush on his cheecks as both of you looked up from inside the car.

"Yes, I asked a friend from another work to look up, he owns this place and has no direction of a current home. Maybe he manages the place or lives here..."

"Well, last time I saw him he did not look like someone who would manage a love hotel" Jun-ho said, voice trying to hide his nerves.

His mind wondering to things, like you. You two on a date, that would end with something more. He would be a gentlemen during all it. And he would take you to his home and do it on his bed, not a meaningless place like a love hotel.

And he would do that and more because he...

"Hey look!! That one, is not him?" You asked seeing a man getting from a car and going inside the hotel.

"It is. Stay here" Jun-ho ordered but before he could get out from the car you held his arm back.

"What? No!" You said not beliving his words "Im going in with you, we are a team, get it in that tick skull of yours"

"Listen (Y/N) I saw these games, if he is here then its because he won. He murdered peopel. He cant be trusted"

"These are just more reasons for me to go in with you" You declared, "You have my back and I have yours, thats how this relationship works"

Jun-ho looked to the side to hide his blush and recluntantly nodded "Alright..."

Unkown to them Gi-hun had been checking the cameras and had spotted their car. He held his gun not knowing who they were.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Reunions are never easy. Even less when its with peopel you dont trust.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

And less when guns are involved.

Maybe Jun-ho had lost his touch, his day giving out speed tickets have passed him consequences. Otherwise he would never have let himself be jumped and have a gun pressed against his head.

"Im a police officer, I just want to talk" Jun-ho said trying to ease the situation but only got Gi-hun to press the gun harder.

"How do I know you are not with them?"

"Cause we have been looking for them too" You said gun raised at Gi-hun who looked suprised for a moment but did not move. "Drop the gun Seong Gi-hun we are aiming for the same goal"

"Yeah? How can I trust any of you? Or what you said?"

"We want to stop the games too" Jun-ho said from beneath him "Thats why we have been following you, you are our only lead"

Slowly Gi-hun removed his gun and let Jun-ho get on his feet.

"I never said a thing about games..."

"Yeah...thats why we have been looking for you. Jun-ho here was in but doing kind of a double agent work. Without help"

Gi-hun had to supress a smile at your stern tone.

"Wait, you are the police who asked me about it. During that time.."

"Im, and this is (Y/N) a fellow police officer and the person I trust the most to end this"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Train stations? A Man in a suit? Ddakji and getting slapped?" You asked while counting with your fingers the major things Gi-hun and told you and Jun-ho.

He had a big map of the stations with lots of marks and points. He was indeed looking for someone.

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but its like that. You get a card with a number, you call it and then you are part of the games" He said serving three coffees "It has been two years and i havent been able to find him"

"Well, now you have two more peopel to count with" You said smiling a bit "We can ignore the criminals that are working for you..."

"(Y/N)...." Jun-ho said but you cut him off.

"What? More peopel means more eyes and less space to cover. Besides its not like we have proof that they do something bad, and you know with. Without proof theres nothing you can do"

Gi-hun had departed both of you. Giving one of his many phone numbers and warning that these peopel were dangerous.

But deep down he was grateful, grateful that there was someone else out here who had seen the same.

"Dont worry, we will catch them" You shaked his hand noticing how he seemed to be sad and stressed, you could only imagine how bad things have been for him.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"What do you think?" Jun-ho asked as he drove back to your aparment.

"I think he is being honest and will accept our help. Besides no one does so much without a reason" You said having take note of his deep search for that man, the multiple guns he had and the cameras around. "He is scared too"

"Well...he does have a reason to be" Jun-ho softly said stopping outside your complex "I never asked you, why help me so much? I know we are friends but this is a big league, worse than any case you had ever seen"

Because I love you. I have been in love with you for so long. I cant seem to live knowing you put your life at risk without any help. I dont want to repeat the time when you vanish and I see my life with you in it-

"Cause you are my partner, and...I care for you" You said and left the car before he could respond to hide your blushing face

"Wait!! (Y/N)" Jun-ho screamed pulling the window down. You stopped looking over your shoulder "I- I care for you too"

He started the car leaving the window down, too nervous, he could track down dangerous criminals and be undercover for the worse criminal gangs, but confessing his feelings to you...

He was not ready, at least not yet.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You went into your aparment, heart beating fast as you went in. The darkness welcomed you, just as you turned for the lights you hear a click.

A gun click.

"Well, you must be (Y/N)...I must admit you are more beautiful than what the photos show"

You turned around one hand ready to go for your own gun. Before you stood a man, tall dark hair, and black eyes, wearing a expensive suit.

"I recommend you to not try anything stupid. I just want to talk. And maybe we can play game"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: *evil laught*

[lovelyjj]

you can use any prompts but can u do reader and jj breaking up, mostly because he can't communicate well and he's to reckless ( maybe you could add something we're he flirts with other girls at bonfires when he's drunk) and she's not all for that ecspecially since they are starting to get older

Break Up

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.1k

I chose “don’t do this” and “we’re done” from this prompt list! i’m still accepting requests!

warnings: kinda mean jj

a/n: sorry if this sucks

(not my gif)

“JJ I can’t keep doing this,” you voiced.

“Doing what?” JJ asked.

“Putting up with your bullshit,” you responded.

“My bullshit,” JJ laughed.

“Yeah your pulling guns on people bullshit. Stealing from drug dealers, and being reckless.”

“I’m not reckless I’m perfectly fine.”

“JJ, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Don’t do this,” JJ begged.

“You know what whatever i’m leaving.” You stormed out.

You were trying to break up with JJ but you just couldn’t do it. You don’t know if it was his blue eyes looking into your soul or his sad face but you just couldn’t do it. You were putting it off.

——————

The bonfire was electrifying. People were drinking and dancing, and talking it was wild. You we’re having a good time with your friends.

JJ was on his third beer and he wasn’t planning on stoping anytime soon. It was safe to say he was a little drunk. He enjoyed drinking and being drunk, it made everything easier. He could just forget all his problems and let loose.

JJ saw a group of girls by the fire and decided to go up to them. He had liquid courage, therefore went up to them pretty confident.

“Hi ladies,” he spoke.

A tall blonde in a short black dress smiled at him and said “Hello, your JJ Maybank right?”

“Yeah that’s me,” JJ gave her a goofy grin.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Oh yeah and what have you heard?” JJ asked.

“That your a handsome guy who knows how to have a good time,” she smirked.

“Sounds about right.”

“You have a beautiful smile,” JJ laid on the charm.

JJ continued to flirt with the blonde as he drunkenly slurred compliments at her.

“Don’t look now,” Kiara warned.

“What?” you turned around and saw what she was referring to.

There was JJ in all his glory stroking hair out of some random girls face. You were livid. How dare he in his drunken state think to hit on other girls.

You were about to walk over there when something stopped you. Kiara put a hand on your shoulder holding you back from leaving.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

You marched up to JJ and demanded answers. You tapped him on his shoulder and he turned around all wide eyed.

“Listen Maybank I don’t know who you think you are, flirting with other girls right in front of my face, but you got another thing coming.”

You were getting older and you didn’t have time for all these games.

“Y/N?” He slurred.

“Yep.”

“I was just talking to some friends, no harm in that right?” JJ asked.

“Wrong. You’re being disloyal and unfaithful,” you hissed.

“How do you know? I’m just having fun.”

“Right well JJ i’m so tired SO tired of having to deal with this!”

“Then go away,” JJ casted you a unimpressed look.

“Maybe I will,” you shouted.

“Go, nobodies stoping you.”

You were pissed at JJ. He was acting like a child. You were not gonna control him, if he wanted to act like that you were gonna let him. But you couldn’t promise you will be by his side through it all.

———————

The day was bright and sunny. The sky holding the sun as it shined on you.

JJ walked into the château littered in bruises on his face. He was dreading the encounter with you because he didn’t want to worry you.

You were sat on the couch with the other pogues when JJ walked in.

“Hey J- Woah what happened? Are you ok?” You were frantic and scared for your boyfriend.

“Relax I’m fine. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“JJ you have- you’re not gonna give me a explanation,” you sighed.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ said through gritted teeth.

“Ya know I would really love it if you could communicate with me sometime,” you frowned.

“Yeah well we don’t always get what we want,” JJ smiled rudely.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Suck it up princess.”

You pushed pass JJ going going out the door and onto the porch. You didn’t know what has gotten into JJ but you hated it.

——————

You and JJ weren’t on the same page. Everything seem to be crashing down. It was a disaster. JJ wasn’t communicating to you at all. All he did was blow you off and dance around your questions.

You stormed up to the château where JJ was currently staying and wanted to talk.

JJ came stumbling outside when he herd your knock and shouting. He wasn’t impressed but he showed up none the less.

“I need to talk to you,” you started off.

“You want to do this here?” JJ questioned.

You sighed, “works for me.”

“Ok what do you need to talk about,” JJ cringed he hated talking.

“I think you know,” you moved your lips inside your mouth forming a line without showing your lips.

“I don’t.”

“Ok well I think we need to have a conversation about us.”

“Which entails…”

“JJ…”

“What? You wanted to talk so let’s talk,” he gritted his teeth.

“Ok look this isn’t working. You don’t treat me right and i’m tired of it.”

“So you’re breaking up with me,” JJ put his tongue to his cheek.

“Yeah I guess I am.”

“I can change,” JJ’s voice broke.

“No JJ I don’t think you can.”

“Please give me another chance,” JJ begged.

“You don’t talk to me, your reckless and you flirt with other girls, I can’t handle it. how am I suppose to compete with them?”

“Sorry I’ve been such a shitty boyfriend.” JJ apologized.

“Well you should of thought about that before.”

“I know I don’t deserve it but if you could find it in your heart to forgive me and make this work, I would be eternally grateful,” JJ expressed with a sense of urgency.

“We’re done.”

“Y/N…”

“Goodbye JJ.”

You turned around to walk away and since you weren’t facing JJ you let a tear slip down your cheek. You didn’t want to do what you just did but you had to. JJ was hurting you, hurting your heart and you couldn’t stand it any longer. You loved him more than anything and not being with him was going to be a challenge.

JJ was your first real love. He was your person for so long until he started being careless and irresponsible. On top of that he didn’t communicate his feelings or give you any idea to what he was thinking which drove you mad.

JJ had his flaws but you loved him desperately regardless. You just couldn’t let him hurt you anymore as much as it hurt you to break up with him. So, as the tears streamed down your cheeks and with a heavy heart you said your last goodbye to JJ.

[sadiestarrs]

To Meet A Jinx

this is part one!!

Warnings: none :)) just one mention of a gun

A/N: this is my first arcane/ jinx fic so if it's terrible I'm sorry lol

Plot: You work for Silco and his infamous adopted daughter Jinx, except you’ve never met her until now.

Word count: 1,535

Everybody in the city knew about Silco’s insane, blue-haired, and seemingly manic daughter, Jinx. Working for him meant that you were around his henchmen 24/7 and they definitely talked about her.

Most things said about her ranged from the fact that she looked innocent but could blow your face off or that she did actually blow someone's face off that day.

You had heard Sevika complain, too, especially on shipment days. They were always the busiest and most stressful. Silco made sure to have his trusted members on the ship “just to be safe”. 

He had no reason to make everyone work, mostly because he had Jinx. Everyone knew that she could take on twenty people double her size and still win. You hadn’t seen her do anything remotely close to this but it wasn’t hard to believe.

When more than half of a city knows you for being a bloodthirsty killer, of course, they would be weary. But you still weren’t that convinced.

Some older workers talked about a young Jinx running into Silco’s arms with him hugging back and taking her in immediately. Silco didn’t look like the type of guy to appreciate hugs from anyone but it was clear he loved Jinx. And that had to be for a reason.

“I want you to keep an eye on those two,” Sevika says to you, directing people carrying crates. The two men she pointed at were getting on each other's nerves, shoving and bumping one another for no reason. They must have had other issues away from work. 

Your main job was to solve disputes and help Sevika. It didn’t take much but when there were problems, they were always big.

The two guys had moved out of sight and started bothering each other again, causing commotion and yelling. Before you could get around to them, three shipments were falling on the floor, creating a bright purple pool on the ground. 

Everyone had started shoving, making it too much to handle. People were on the floor, glass was being shoved into the soles of your shoes, and most importantly, nearly 500 coins worth of shimmer had been wasted.

Sevika was definitely going to blame you and no one would fess up. You couldn’t even get to the core of the fight before being shoved to the floor and cutting your hand on a large shard of glass.

It didn’t take much to lose all hope for the future. Not only would Silco fire you, but he would make you pay one way or another. None of those things were appealing, especially considering the fact that you desperately wanted to leave this chapter of your life behind. But not before getting a bit of cash and ditching Zaun.

You were sitting helpless, contemplating your life when a shot was fired. It was hard to see through the crowd but it stopped everyone, all the men scattering and moving away.

In front of you was a, surprisingly short, girl, braids nearly touching the floor, holding a revolver and looking around the ship.

No one made eye contact with her. No one went near her. They all went back to their original places as if the fight never happened.

Jinx.

Just her presence alone was enough to make everyone nervous. You hadn’t even realised that you were still sitting on the floor when she came towards you, holding the gun’s handle out. 

It took you a few seconds before realising that she was helping you up. It was enough to make the workers stop. From the corner of your eye, Sevika stood, arms folded, looking at the both of you. You could have sworn that she was laughing when you held on and got up. 

It brought you extremely close to her face, enough to see her baby-blue eyes glimmer. A smile pokes from the side of her mouth. She stood, analysing your face, eyes, lips. You couldn’t move if you tried, she had hypnotised you.

“What the hell is happening here?”

Silco appeared, frozen on the spot. “I spend half of my life working to make life better for all of you and I’m paid with this?”

It was almost symbolic, the liquid sitting under his shoes, mixing with the dirt and mud on the ground and turning into a deeper purple.

“Jinx?” He looks at her but she doesn’t deviate from you. Her body was rigid, completely cornering you.

Confusion was apparent in his expression, looking over at Sevika who only replies with a smirk.

“Jinx!”

Another glimmer appears in her eyes just before she turns around and walks past Silco, no words said.

No one moves or says anything but everyone was looking at you. Sevika pushes off of the wall she was leaning on, leaving the ship, still laughing.

If it wasn’t for your increased heartbeat, you would have questioned the event but too much had happened. Why did she help you up? Why did she analyse you? Why did she ignore Silco?

The questions rushed to your head faster than you could comprehend and faster than you could move after Silco ordered you to go with him. 

He simply pointed, and yelled, “You!” starting to walk faster than you could keep up with. 

______________________________________

“What relationship do you have with Jinx?”

Standing in front of Silco in his office with Sevika next to him was never a place you imagined to be. It almost felt like being in a principal’s office and getting scolded.

You didn’t have a “relationship” with Jinx. You had only met her a few minutes ago on the ship. Everything that happened was unplanned and, frankly, strange. And being interrogated by both of them didn’t help.

“I-I don’t have a relationship with her.” The words were staggered and hard to come out. Your heart had only slowed by a few beats but you could still feel it against your skin.

“That isn’t what I saw. Jinx doesn’t do things like that, meaning that you must have something to do with her.” 

His reasoning didn’t make any sense. Just because she looked at you for a few minutes doesn’t mean that anything happened. 

“Jinx is like a daughter to me. I would hate to have anything happen to her.” Silco continues talking, fiddling with his shimmer eye injection tool. It was nice seeing how much he cared for Jinx but in the end, nothing would happen between you two for a multitude of reasons.

Besides, Jinx didn’t seem like the type to be in a relationship. She was probably too busy blowing things up and creating gadgets.

“You’ll keep your distance. If it wasn’t for her you’d be paying for the lost shimmer right now. Don’t come in next week.”

If it wasn’t for her? Did Jinx help you? What could she have said to make Silco excuse you? You couldn’t walk out of his office quickly enough when he finished. It had turned into a hotbox with his continuous smoking, and you desperately needed air.

Just as you walk down the stairs to leave through the Last Drop, there she was, sitting at the bar and leaning dangerously far back.

“Heya toots!”

She springs up, walking towards you and trapping you in a tight hug at the waist. It was a stark difference from only an hour ago.

“Hi,” you say, walking down the stairs and stopping, awkwardly waiting for her to speak.

“Sorry about earlier, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You tell her that it’s no problem, trying to ignore the comment and your heartbeat increasing again. “Thanks for helping me with Silco.” 

She shrugs, crossing both arms behind her back. “Yeah, he gets like that sometimes.” You both stand in the awkward silence. Luckily, the bar was empty but it was surprisingly chilly. All you wanted was to leave and try to forget everything that just happened.

“I’ve been watching you for a while. You seem pretty cool.”

The compliment was nice and well-intentioned but the more you thought about it, the more worried you became. She watched you? 

“Would you wanna go out sometime? It doesn’t have to be out out, but somewhere we can talk.”

All you could do was nod. It was stupid in hindsight. Silco had just spent twenty minutes telling you to stay away from her and but here you were, practically agreeing to go on a date. 

“Cool! I’ll see you here tomorrow!”

Here? Tomorrow? It was too soon and too close to Silco. Whether he would be out or not, Sevika and other henchmen would be nearby, not to mention all of Silco’s other enemies. It was all a bad idea. 

But you still agreed. It would be nice to talk to someone new. And you were sure that saying no would have a painful consequence.

Jinx smiles again, hugging you once more before disappearing up the stairs, leaving you standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Good luck.” You look behind the bar and see Chuck emerge from underneath the counter.

 “She’s a crazy one.”

[blackbirdi]

The Roommate Problem

Brief Description: Over all the years you and Jason have been friends, you've never found him to have any flaws, until you two decided to move in together. Jason was the perfect roommate, until he started coming home way louder than was necessary, constantly waking you up throughout random times in the night.

Point of View: 2nd Person

Word Count: 1662

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Age: Jason - 22, Reader - 21

Being roommates with your best friend was a mostly smart decision.

You knew you could trust Jason to always hand rent in on time, he would get groceries when you mentioned you were running low on something, and whenever something was broken Jason was always ready to try and fix it, or call for help when he couldn't. All-in-all, your best friend, Jason Todd, was a great roommate, a perfect roommate; but you forgot one little thing when you asked him to move in with you: he was a vigilante.

Jason being Red Hood wasn't necessarily a bad thing, you really only found one thing bad about it. But boy, was it a bad thing. That thing was that Jason was out practically all night, coming home at any point in the dead of the night. And he wasn't exactly quiet about it either.

Almost every night you were awoken to Jason's annoyingly loud entering of your shared apartment. You found this particularly annoying because Jason was a vigilante he knew damn well how to be quiet. Sometimes you thought he was loud just to annoy you (which is probably true); at other times you thought it was because he knew he was home and knew he was able to let his guard down (which you found very sweet, but probably wasn’t the case).

And here you were, once again woken at ... 4:02?!

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jason?" you growl, having enough of this bullshit. This was the eighth - eighth - night in a row he had woken you up in the middle of the night.

Getting out of your nice, warm, comfortable bed, you slink out of your room and into yours and Jason's shared living room, finding Red Hood standing next to the window, closing it loudly.

"Morning," you greet dryly, sitting down in an armchair, glaring up at him.

Jason jumps, literally jumps as he hears your voice. His hand goes to his holster, removing a gun and aiming at your face.

You cock an eyebrow in question at the barrel staring you in the eye. You know better than to be afraid of the weapon, Jason would never fire that thing at you.

"Oh," Jason mumbles as he realizes it's just his roommate. He lowers his gun, putting it back into the holster before he removes his helmet, smiling at you softly. "Hey, Y/n, what are you doing up at this hour? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I would be," you grumble, your gaze still a glare as he shows his face to you. "But someone was being extra loud this morning and woke me up."

It's almost impossible to see, but you still catch it: the smirk that briefly pulls on Jason's face before he puts on a face of sympathy.

"Oh, shit, Y/n/n, I'm sorry," Jason apologizes, setting his helmet down on the coffee table before he walks over to you. He sets one of his hands on each armrest, leaning down to be eye level with you.

You can't help the shiver that goes through you as he does this. It's intimidating as hell, but it's Jason, so you find it more attractive than anything else. You internally scold yourself the second that thought crosses your head.

"Are you?" you counter, crossing your arms. You fight the urge to look away, wanting Jason to know just how tired you were of his late night loudness.

"Of course I am," Jason replies earnestly, but you see right through him.

He's fighting back a smirk, a chuckle, anything that would give him away that he's been doing it on purpose. You can see the mirth in his eyes, the way they sparkle with amusement as he looks down at you.

To anyone else, they wouldn't think anything of Jason's attitude; but you've known him much longer than anyone else, you know for a fact that he's not sorry at all.

Your eyes narrow in doubt as he answers, and you voice your doubt to him immediately.

"For some reason, Jason, I have some doubts about that," you snap, your voice clear in showing your irritation.

Jason's eyebrows furrow as his lips form a slight pout, he leans closer to you, trying to look innocently as he asks, "What? Why?"

"Because I know you, Jason," you scowl, trying to fight down the growing blush on your cheeks. "I know when you're lying. And I know damn well that you have been purposely loud just to wake me up!"

"Trying to wake you up?" Jason echos, his lips twitching, as if he wants to smile at your claim. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," you huff, glaring up at him. "But I know that you know how to be more quiet than you have been, and I would appreciate it if you remained quiet entering our house. Unlike you, I have places to be during the day."

Finally letting the smile he was trying to suppress rise onto his face, Jason grins down at you, chuckling softly at your request.

"Why would I do that?" Jason questions playfully. "Maybe I want to keep waking you up everytime I get home."

"Why?" you ask, exasperated.

Jason's grin widens as he looks down at you, answering, "Maybe I want you to come and greet me when I get back home, just like I do when you get back from work."

You can't help but roll your eyes at Jason's words, 'Is he serious?'

"I'm not going to greet you very kindly when you're waking me up in the middle of the night," you sneer.

Jason laughs, leaning closer to you as he replies under his breath (but loud enough for you to hear), "I know. But it's nice coming home to someone I feel safe with, someone I know who has my back, someone I care about ... someone I love."

You can't help the red that spreads like a wildfire across your cheeks, the way your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest, or the way your breath catches at the back of your throat. You try to not let Jason notice any of it, but you know it's futile because it's Jason. But that still doesn't stop you from trying.

"Shut up," you grumble, pushing Jason away from you. "You're just saying that to get back in my good graces."

Jason chuckles lowly, your attempt to shove him away not working in the slightest. The only thing your attempt does is make Jason bring himself closer, causing your cheeks to heat up more.

"I am not," he argues softly. "I mean it when I say it, Y/n. I love seeing you; you bring me so much joy, I just have to wake you up so early just so I can see my favourite person ever."

Your heartbeat continues to rise, the tips of your ears beginning to turn red in embarrassment of Jason's words.

"Shut up," you snap, turning your head away from Jason so you don't have to look at him, because you know that your face is just going to turn more red if you do.

Jason chuckles again, his smirk fading into a soft smile as he looks at you look away from him.

"Ah, come on," he teases gently, grabbing your chin to make you face him. "What's got you all flustered, sweetheart?"

It feels as though your brain just shuts off. What is he doing??

"I - shut up," you scowl.

Jason smirks, countering, "Make me."

If it was possible, your face would've been glowing red at this point.

"I-I - uh," you stutter, wanting to look away from him but finding yourself unable to do so because he's got such a firm grip on your jaw.

It takes you another moment to respond (while Jason stands there and smirks at you). When you do respond, you grab his wrist and yank his hand off your jaw. You don't give him a chance to grab your chin again as you get off the armchair by the side (because Jason's standing in front of the chair) and glare up at him.

"I'm not joking when I ask this Jason: stop being so loud when you come home," Y/n snaps.

Jason chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you, clearly amused.

"Alright, alright," he huffs, rolling his eyes playfully. "I'll be quiet from now on."

You look up at him skeptically, narrowing your eyes.

Jason grins when he sees your reaction, taking a step closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

"Y/n/n, I promise I'll be more quiet when I come home," he promises, kissing the tip of your nose.

Your blush comes back in full force at Jason's gentle affections.

"Okay, okay, I believe you," you relent, wrapping your slender fingers around Jason's wrists and removing them from your face. "I'm going to bed now; goodnight, Jace."

Jason smiles softly, opening him around up as he asks teasingly, "What? No goodnight hug?"

The smile that takes over your scowl can't be helped as you roll your eyes playfully at Jason and step into his arms, wrapping yours around his waist.

Jason squeezes you against his chest tightly, nuzzling his face into your hair, planting a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile against Jason's chest, your ear in the perfect spot on his chest to hear the consistent beat of his heart.

"Night, Y/n/n," he whispers softly, squeezing you one last time before letting you go.

You step away from Jason, smiling up at him one last time before you turn around and head back to your bed. The only thoughts you have while laying in your bed a few minutes later are that maybe if he keeps being loud you won't complain about it, because at least then you know that he got home safe.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Marvel

how to return home by JBS_Forever

Flash Thompson is a good person, but not a great one, so when Peter Parker accidentally gets drunk at his house party, all he can do is say, “Shit.”

Or: the one where Flash is just trying to be a decent person and get a drunk Peter home. Peter, on the other hand, has different plans.

scandal of the century by joshriku

The headline reads:

STEAMY SEX TAPE BETWEEN MAGNETO AND PROFESSOR X LEAKED!

“All right,” Charles says. “I wouldn’t call it steamy, you know, that’s an exaggeration.”

“That is seriously not the point, Professor,” Jean answers.

(A sex tape is leaked. PR crisis ensues).

DC

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever

Jason's had a nagging suspicion that Bruce keeps stalker-esque levels of tabs on all the places he’s lived, so when Tim Drake shows up at his apartment door, it takes only a half second for Jason to level his gun directly at Tim's stupid face and to say, bored, “Give me one reason not to shoot you.”

Honestly, he knew Bruce had a problem, but sending a bat to his doorstep? This is just ridiculous.

Or: in a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party.

But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

racing on the thunder by merils

Fortunately or unfortunately, Clark Kent is kind of used to getting phone calls about his too-curious-for-her-own-good wife being held hostage somewhere. Superman usually handles it.

Conner Kent gets a phone call meant for Clark Kent, who is Superman, who is currently in space. Uh.... Have no fear, Superboy is here!

What could possibly go wrong?

Original Works

Halfway Home for Wayward Mages by hoebiwan

Part 24 of mage in a wolf pack (This whole series kills me)

He wouldn’t mind it if Lada collared him, if Khalida or Dimitri collared him, because none of them have forced him to hurt anyone, whether human or wolf. They mostly just want him to—

Live, Jaime. Live.

In which the wolves rescue Jaime, but he doesn't realize he's free.

the sin eater by whitegeraniums (puertoricansuperman)

Part 25 of mage in a wolf pack

Lada, alpha of the Hearthstone wolf pack, finds herself in possession of a captured, broken werewolf hunter.

ATLA

Keeping Ones Head Down by ApoplecticAtPeace

Part 3 of May You be Noticed by The Fire Lord

Bao lost his ability to walk when he was 19. Despite the prejudice of many Fire Nation citizens, he got a job as an accountant in the Royal palace, in the Department of Education. After 11 years of working quietly, keeping his head down and allowing his work to be claimed by others, he expected nothing to change when Fire Lord Zuko took the throne. He didn't expect the entire department to be reformed under the new Minister Shu-Lin, and Bao's overlooked position with it.

Clone Wars

Something in the heart beat like a drum by CombatBootsandDreams

Most Jedi only have to take three formal sexual education classes. Obi-Wan, in all their blessed biology has to take five.

Or: Obi-Wan growing up in a galaxy where Stewjoni are Succubi. This changes very little--but it does make certain things a hell of lot more interesting.

A Stewjoni are succubus au that has way less to do with sex, & is more about logistics, medical problems, and cuddling. Featuring Qui-Gon being an excellent master, codywan, aromantic Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan using he/they/she pronouns, and plenty of costume changes.

[starry-bi-sky]

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them. 

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous. 

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game. 

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says. 

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.  

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts. 

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger. 

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest. 

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head. 

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.” 

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to. 

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.” 

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown. 

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight. 

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!” 

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!” 

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates. 

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.” 

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

[whatdoidosatoru]

on fire sanzu haruchiyo x reader wc: 4458 cw: blood, knife play, murder, burning corpses, dub con, hate sex, name calling, pet name, choking | 18+ | MDNI | ~cleaning up after a bloodbath isn't that bad… unless you're partnered with sanzu haruchiyo. he despises putting in effort to help you out, despises your very presence… but he doesn't seem to hate the way you threaten him. in fact, that just might be his favourite thing.~ being covered in blood was somewhat of a normal occurrence when working for mikey, especially when one was sent on missions with sanzu of all people. it was always some shit with him, making stupid comments about my looks (“why do you always look like you haven’t slept in a week”), telling me i should just quit (“i don’t even need you on this, you’re here just to make it look like you have a purpose in bonten”), or straight up threatening me (“i could easily just toss you into the dumpster with the other bodies and nobody would even notice”), all the while playing with his gun, flipping it in his hands before sticking it back into the holster

today was no different. following an absolute bloodbath, it was mostly me who did any clean up, checking the pulse of every body on the ground, slitting throats and stabbing chests with my favourite knife that i was just cleaning with one of the corpses’ shirt before slotting it back into the holster at my thigh.

“pretty sure i could do it better than that if i was drugged out of my mind.” his condescending voice reached me, along with the sound of his lighter refusing to light the cigarette between his lips. “ and i’d look sexier at that.”

i walked towards the car, inwardly chanting my old reliable mantra, don’t kill him, it’s not worth the bollocking . with a quick motion, i pulled out my own lighter and lit his cigarette as he took a long drag, completely ignoring my hostile attitude towards him and his lack of help.

“i told you to stop flirting with me” i retorted with a slight sarcastic tone, knowing full well he would never actually flirt with someone like me. i nudged him off the trunk of the car and popped it open, taking out a canister of gasoline for later. “and move your bony ass, i’m not gonna do all this alone.”

reluctantly, and very obvious in his show of distaste for actually doing any work, sanzu pushed off the side of the car and sauntered over to the closest of the twenty bodies littering the parking lot. he kicked its hand and bent over just to grab the elbow, starting to drag it across the ground to the empty dumpster, not even taking his cigarette out. as soon as he flung the body into the dumpster with very little visible effort (which annoyed the shit out of me), he took a mocking bow, presenting himself as a helpful partner when really it would have been easier working with a brick. at least i could fling it at someone.

i huffed a little as i lifted the next few bodies into the dumpster, glaring at sanzu every now and then to see him once again leaning against the car, finishing that cigarette, and scroll on his phone. typical . my arms felt like they were at least three inches longer (which is coincidentally as much length as i’d assume sanzu had in his pants), and they ached like hell. lifting up nineteen grown men as dead weight, even with my physical capabilities, was exhausting. i felt gummy as i walked back to the car and attempted to demonstratively lift the canister to walk back to the dumpster with it, but instead i caught sanzu’s eye and tripped, nearly spilling gasoline all over myself.

“are you sure i’m not your type?” he smirked very full of himself, “you seem to enjoy looking at me a lot.”

i gave the lifting another go, this time a little shamefully waddling with it and finally getting it to the lip of the giant dumpster that was now housing all of our victims from the mission.

“read the room, asshole. i’m looking at you because i’m trying to figure out in which pocket you keep the audacity.” with a scoff i tipped the canister inside with the bodies after getting them thoroughly covered in the smelly liquid. “are you planning on helping out at all tonight?” with one hand on my hip i glared at him again. god, he was going to cause so many frown lines on my face.

sanzu looked awfully self-satisfied as he dawdled over to where i was standing with my arms crossed, appearing annoyed and nonchalant, when in actuality i was trying to hide the fact that fucking hell my arms hurt like shit. his lighter finally came in useful, sparking for one reason only, and that’s to be thrown into the dumpster and set fire to the pile of corpses inside, quickly eating through anything it could. i imagined shoving him into the dumpster with the burning bodies, visualising it until my lips curled into a slight smirk.

“what’re you smirking about?” “i’m picturing you burning in there.” i said with slight amusement in my tone, to which he just scoffed. “you should feel lucky i’m even doing this mission with you” he yawned to show his disinterest, “i could’ve stayed at the club and been balls deep in some model right now.” he didn’t find it amusing that i scoffed at his hopes for how his night could’ve gone. “as if i’d want to be partnered with your dumbass, i’d much rather be working with haitani.”

his light pink eyebrow raised as he turned his head to me.

“which one?” “does it matter?” i glared at him for a moment before turning back to observe the controlled fire in the dumpster. “but ran… probably ran.”

the scoff and the eye roll were so typically him, it was nearly funny how it felt like he was jealous . he shut the trunk loudly and sat in the driver’s seat, almost sullenly staring ahead and placing another cigarette between his lips. i dragged myself to the car and shut the door with a creak and a slam.

“what’s with that stupid expression?” i put a deadly amount of hostility into the question, but what i really wanted to do was slap the stupid sullen frown off his dumb face. he looked at me from the corner of his eye and i lifted my hips to give him what he was too proud to ask for - the lighter. i flicked it and lit his cigarette before putting it back into my jeans pocket

“ ran ?” “oh for the love of…” i smacked the dashboard before pushing my seat back and stretching my legs by putting my feet up “are you seriously pissy because i said i’d rather work with him?”

sanzu just huffed. fine . i let him sulk as he started the car and drove us away from the literal dumpster fire, since we couldn’t drive away from one that is our relationship.

the streets were eerily empty, despite the rainy weather. you could usually see couples in cars parked all over the place, since the entire neighbourhood was full of empty lots, wide streets, and dark alleys. he parked and turned the key, but neither of us made the move to get out just yet, my arms and legs hurt like a bitch.

in a second, sanzu was out of his seat, hovering over the console with his hand gripping my jaw. a fair attempt, but my hand had grabbed the knife strapped to my left thigh and pressed the blade against his throat. i looked at him with an almost bored expression, asking silently, did you seriously think that would work?

“i swear to god i’ll kill him if he touches you” he snarled, getting so close to me i could bite his nose if i tried

pressing the knife a little harder, i felt his throat bob under the edge. he wasn’t letting go, wasn’t even making a move to pull back, almost like he didn’t even feel the sharp blade against his skin.

“how about, and really think about this now, you stop trying to tell me what i can and cannot do. you and i are nothing .” i bit the words out, jutting my chin forward and bringing our faces even closer, but that didn’t deter me. nor him.

it took a few seconds of intense staring before his snarl started turning into a smirk, then into a shit-eating grin.

“it’s kinda sexy when you threaten me like this” the tip of his tongue darted out to lick the scar on the right side of his mouth, as if checking if his signature scary feature was still there. “there’s room in the trunk for a body, sanzu, do make sure it’s not yours.” i kept my threatening tone, but he looked too far gone for any sane thinking to occur. “aww, but you’d miss me. who would you threaten if i was gone?” he cooed. instead of backing off, he tilted his head, not caring that my blade was digging deeper into his skin. “now how about you tell me you’re mine? forget haitani, that prick can’t cater to your depravity…” “how about you drop dead ?” he chuckled, vibrating my knife. his tongue darted out again. “that wasn’t a no…” “no.”

he blinked with those long, thick, pink lashes, almost seducing if i wasn’t so completely repulsed by his very existence. spiting me and my knife, he moved his hand from my jaw down to my neck, as if tilting my face for easier access. for some reason, for some inexplicable reason my body betrayed me, staying still when i should’ve slit his fucking throat and made him bleed out all over me. why did i let him get this cocky?!

“what would you have done if ran was here?” he lowered his voice, down to barely a whisper as he got a little closer, his scarred mouth nearly touching my jaw.

i gulped, feeling his hand tensing around my neck.

“what the–” my words were cut off as he tightened his grip on my neck and i pressed the blade harder against his neck. “would you have fucked him in this car?” he continued, his words sounding almost… sensual. “would you have sucked him off while he drove you back?”

sanzu’s lips ghosted my jaw and i swallowed before pressing the knife at a different angle, making him chuckle softly.

“you might give me a new kink if you keep it up.” “you’re insane. like, literally.” “so i’ve been told.” he didn't sound defeated, but nonetheless he removed his hand from my throat and sat back in his seat.

i was royally pissed off, why on earth didn’t i push him away or just straight up kill him, why did i let him think he can rattle me?

we left the car parked as we silently made our way into the bar. everyone from bonten met up here after missions. with the exception of bartenders and a few patrons, everyone in the bar had ties with a gang. be it bonten or someone we had dealings with.

so it was no surprise, even a little bit of a relief, when we walked in and my eyes landed on ran haitani himself. surrounded by his brother and a few others from the gang, he was cradling a glass of something brown, slowly sipping on it when he noticed and beckoned me. i took it as a hail mary, immediately pasting on a smile and walking over to slide into the booth next to him. he didn’t care that i was all bloodied. if anything, ran took my hand and kissed my knuckles, looking at me like the blood of twenty men was the sexiest thing i could’ve worn tonight.

meanwhile, sanzu sullenly made his way to the bar and sat there next to takeomi, but both stayed silent, drinking and occasionally exchanging a glance or two. at ran’s booth, i drank and laughed with him and rindou, not willing to tell ran off for slipping his hand between my thighs. ran’s hand was welcome, warm, and his smile was easy. with a few whispered words into his ear, i leaned closer and he dipped his head down, kissing my neck, trailing his lips along the parts that sanzu had gripped tightly only minutes ago.

the pink haired grumpy man glared at us, i threw my head back and caught his eye for a second, then brought it back to focus on the way ran’s lips felt on my skin, the way he gripped my thigh and passed me his drink to sip on it while he slipped his hand into my panties and parted my needy folds with one long finger. oh the moan that left my lips went into his ear immediately, spurring him on to circle my clit teasingly.

before i could really do something to piss him off, sanzu disappeared from the bar. i didn’t see or hear him leave, but the next time my head dipped back, his seat was vacant. takeomi didn’t seem too fazed, having the seat next to him suddenly empty.

i lifted my hips up, grinding myself against ran’s hand and seeing his smile grow as he leaned down to bite my earlobe. we whispered into each other’s ear while the rest of the group talked amongst each other, not giving a fuck about our activities. i stopped ran for a moment, excusing myself to the washroom for a moment, biting his lower lip before leaving. as if he wasn’t hot enough, ran put the finger that had been rubbing my clit between his lips and sucked on it with a gentle hum, appreciating the taste.

a little lightheaded, i fixed my belt and the knife strapped around my thigh and went to the women’s restroom, thanking my lucky stars it was empty. once out of the stall, i washed my hands with cold water, using it to splash my face and the back of my neck, trying to snap my mind into focus and stop myself from being lightheaded.

“having fun with haitani?” a venomous voice followed the sound of the washroom door slamming against the tiled wall.

i didn’t even have to turn my head or lift it to know it was him .

“this is the women’s restroom, if you didn’t know.” “answer the damn question, slut.”

i finally lifted my head to look at him through the mirror. it reflected his less than happy expression, the snarl he wore in the car earlier was stretching his scarred mouth all over again and his fingers flexed like he wanted to bring them back around my neck.

“you might want to reconsider your approach tonight, asshole.” “or what? you’re gonna cut me up?” “if i’m feeling merciful i’m gonna cut off your testicle.”

the snarl on his face almost seamlessly melted into a vicious grin, making me sigh as i was once again reminded of the extent of his degeneracy.

“and if you’re not? if you’re feeling rather vengeful? gonna take both?” “then i’m gonna slice your dick off and feed it to you.”

he moved like lightning and in a moment he was pressing me into the edge of the sink, his hips pushing against my ass and his hand grabbing my hair. with a swift movement he tilted my head back, but i was just as fast. my trusted blade was once again in my hand… and under his chin. the position was a little awkward, but if he insisted on testing me, i would continue threatening him.

“that a threat or a promise?” his voice was lower and dangerous. but there had to be something seriously wrong with me since his dangerous tone sounded seductive.

he stunk of blood and alcohol, being so up close i could see his pupils were blown out, a sure sign he was high. not that there was a waking moment when he wasn’t.

“you’re a freak.” i spat the words at him, gripping my knife tighter, but as i did so, i felt his cock hardening against my ass. this freak was actually getting turned on by me nearly slitting his damn throat. and for some reason i liked it.

“only for you, princess.” ugh, of course he would use that corny pet name, making it that much more awkward for me to look up at him and not imagine him taking me right there on the sink.

one of his hands traced up my body, grabbing my breast for a moment before reaching the top button of my blouse and starting to unbutton it enough for his hand to slide into it. the hand on my hair tugged a little, tilting my head to the side. his mouth immediately latched onto my neck and started to leave wet kisses, sucking a bruise into my skin occasionally. i gulped and dared to close my eyes for a second, having every intention of opening them, but instead they stayed shut and i let out a sweet moan. that only encouraged him to continue, groping me more, grabbing my breast over the fabric of the bra and grinding his hips against my ass.

i never once lowered my knife or moved it at all.

“are you gonna cut me? or are you gonna keep letting me use you?” his words ghosted over my neck, making me shiver. “thinking about it.” damn, my words did not sound as blunt as i wanted to say them.

i wanted to prove that i could still very much kill him where he stood, that it was just my mercy keeping him alive. mercy and the hate of confrontation with mikey. at that point it would’ve been a blatant lie, the throbbing in my abdomen was proof of it.

“gets me all hot and bothered thinking about you cutting me with that cute blade” his words dripped from those lips onto my neck, immediately scooped up by his tongue trailing up to my ear where he nipped at my earlobe, unfortunately making me groan. “keep making those sounds for me, princess.” i kept my knife moving along with him, where he tilted his head, my hand followed. “keep that knife on me, yeah?” sanzu bit into my neck, making me gasp, but immediately hiss, annoyed with how good his hands and teeth felt on me. “you’re sick.” i strained out my words and opened my eyes, meeting the lewd scene in the mirror. fuck. ran must have wondered where i was already, but i wasn’t making a move to remove sanzu from my body. “and you’re enjoying this just as much as i am” he chuckled against my skin and tilted my head back again, pulling at my hair sharply.

sanzu wasted no more time, he lowered his head and kissed me right on the mouth, parting my lips with his bitter tongue, letting me taste the drink he had had at the bar. and i responded. my lips moved against his. the hand that cupped my breast now made its way down, slipping under the waistband of my jeans and panties. his smirk against my lips broke the kiss for a moment when he felt how wet i was and with ridiculous speed he unbuckled my belt and tugged my jeans and underwear down, leaving me exposed to the colder washroom air. now my hair was released from his grip and i could bring it back up.

not once did i release the grip on my knife, and at this point we both knew it was there to stay. neither of us had a problem with that. in fact, it seemed that the danger provided some sick amplification to the tension felt between us. we looked at each other through the smudged mirror, both still bloody from the mission, faces sporting a few stray specks of blood. sanzu moved one hand to my jaw, and i didn’t stop him again. the other hand spread apart my legs just enough to fit his swiftly pulled out cock between my thighs, making him thrust forward ever so slightly at the warm and wet contact. i felt his fingers extend from my jaw to rest against my lips, prying them open and slotting themselves inside my warm mouth. “bite down” he ordered. i immediately brought my teeth down, sliding my tongue around those digits at the same time. “harder” he instructed, and i obeyed. i bit down as he slid his tip inside me, making my eyes roll back and the grip on my knife get a little tighter.

“keep going” his breathy voice was in my ear, but his eyes were on mine through the mirror. it was strange, seeing myself gagged by sanzu’s long fingers and fucked against the sink, but it filled my belly with heat. he pushed deeper into me, making my hips buck forward, but there was no escape. he fit every inch of himself into my cunt, snaking one hand around to press against my clit and rub it in slow circles, in time with the thrusts of his hips.

i whined, the sound came out gargled around his fingers that somehow ended up even deeper in my mouth, like he was trying to reach my uvula. my eyes glazed over, threatening to close with every push of his cock against my sweet spot. but i kept them open, kept them trained on the depravity reflected in the mirror in front of us. the knife was still pressed under his chin.

once he lowered his gaze to my trembling hand holding the blade, he sighed and pulled out of me quickly. it took no time to spin me around and lift me up onto the sink, leaning over me as he pressed my back against the mirror. i switched the position of my hand and it found its way to his throat again, not letting him off the hook. the sight of the blade being so quickly pressed against him again made sanzu smirk and dart his tongue to touch one of the scars on the side of his mouth.

“good little slut, keep that knife on me until i’m done with you.” “god, you’re such a bast–” he shut me up by thrusting into me again, so deep that my folds felt his skin as he started grinding his hips against me while fully sheathed inside.

this time he kept a faster pace, keeping my legs up while he slowly slid my jeans off my legs, tossing them to the side once he got them over my boots. my feet dangled over his shoulders as he rammed into me harder with each movement, only increasing the strength with which he stuffed himself into me repeatedly. even if i wanted to bite out some snarky comment, a threat, a curse, i couldn’t. my hand holding the knife slipped as he thrust into me harder, but he was quick to react by gripping my wrist and keeping it still against his neck.

“don’t you dare.” sanzu warned in a ragged voice. his eyes could tear a hole in my skull with the intensity of his stare. i kept his gaze, unwavering as he fucked into me again and again, probing into my cunt and making me clench around him. his hand dropped mine once i regained enough control to keep the knife up, returning to hold my thighs, using them as leverage while he pushed forward, parting my folds with his length.

a bastard. a dick, an asshole, a piece of shit, a sicko who hated me. a freak who hated me so much he wanted to see me unravel around his cock, who wanted to see drool in the corner of my mouth as he made me see my maker. he was all that and he got his wish.

using his thumb, sanzu swiped the saliva from the corner of my lips and sucked it into his mouth, promptly making me clench even more around him.

“princess…” he almost cooed while ruining me “you get any tighter and i’ll lose my dick”

oh how i wanted to say he didn’t need it because nobody would touch him anyway. i wanted to be cold, but getting railed on the bathroom sink by him would tear down any high ground from which i would speak.

“that’s it, relax with me…” one of his hands traveled up my torso and started kneading my breast, his eyes were still on me, unravelling me just with that high gaze. “don’t make me get haitani in here to see you being a dumb slut for my cock.” he chuckled before an even harder rut into me “even if you did threaten to cut it off and feed it to me.”

i rolled my eyes, partly in pleasure, partly in annoyance. god, he felt so good lodged inside of me, dragging his cock in and out my velvety walls while i kept his throat under knife control.

he leaned in, dragging his mouth against my cheek, reaching even deeper inside me as my legs went up. i clenched, tightening around him and making his hips stutter slightly.

“fuck… princess, i’m filling you up i don’t even care” he bit my bottom lip and started going faster, rutting into me desperately now as moans and little whimpers spilt from my lips. it took no more than five grunting thrusts for me to completely fall apart, eyes rolling back, hand with the knife slipping again, groaning and mewling as i tightened around him, keeping him inside as he emptied, filling me with his release and making my thighs shake. his throat vibrated my blade against him, groaning as he slumped over me, pressing his forehead into my shoulder.

we breathed together for a while. he softened inside of me and pulled out slowly, looking down as his cum trickled down my ass cheeks and onto the tiled floor. without another word, he zipped up his trousers and fixed his hair in the mirror, noticing a small cut just under his jaw. it made him smile, the bastard. he barely spared me another look as he turned and left, swinging the door open and shouting “haitani!”

fucking asshole. leaving me alone to get off the sink and clean myself up. everything ached, the exhaustion from doing nearly all the work on the mission and being fucked into oblivion… it was almost too much. i looked at myself in the mirror and rubbed off some of the blood on my face. damn it. i couldn’t go back to ran like this. having snuck out of the bar, deciding on walking back home, i let myself think about what the hell i’d done. fuck, i would kill mikey for putting me on this mission with sanzu.

[thechocolatearmor]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[howtofightwrite]

I don't know if you covered this before, but how does being left-handed effect handling weaponry? I imagine it doesn't impact too much with guns, but I've heard it can alter how using a sword works. How true is this, in the end?

That's sort of backwards. With a handful of exceptions, being left-handed doesn't do much to how you handle most melee weapons. The big exceptions are if you're wielding a shield, and in some medieval siege assault situations. Being a left-handed shooter, on the other hand, comes with a host of considerations, and in some cases, requires modifying your firearms so that they're convenient to use, or in others, it straight up requires learning to shoot right handed.

So, the part about this that is true, has nothing to do with which hand is dominant. Speaking from personal experience, it is much easier to accurately shoot with your off-hand, than it is to wield a melee weapon off-handed.

So, the issue with being a lefty with a shield is that your shield will be on the right side of your body while your opponent's shield will be on the left side of theirs. This means you're mirroring each other, and blocking an attack with your shield (or your opponent doing the same to you) is far more vulnerable to stepping out of line slightly and striking your opponent's weapon arm. This goes both ways, though a left-handed fighter is more likely to be prepared to immediately exploit this opening, simply because there are more right handed fighters, so they'll be encountering this situation more often.

The second exception is architectural. We've mentioned this on many occasions, but medieval castles were designed to favor the defenders. This took multiple forms, but among them were stairways designed so that someone invading the castle would have their right arm pressed up against a wall, while their left hand was free. (This was true both with open stairways, and also with spiral stairways inside the keep.) The assumed word here is, “designed to favor right-handed defenders.” A left-handed assaulter would be able to use their dominant arm freely as they assaulted, because the keep was (accidentally) built to favor them. In some cases, they might even have advantages over the right-handed defenders, such as being able to attack freely from above as they descended.

I'm been mostly thinking about the standard infantry sidearms of the era, but is worth remembering that a left-handed spearman would be a problem in a tightly packed formation (such as the phalanx), because their arm would be running extremely close to their fellow fighter on the left side of their battle line, while leaving a gap to their right.

It's also worth knowing that most lefties train (often involuntarily) some degree ambidexterity. Everything from doorknobs to jars are built for right-handed people, so, you learn to do things with your off-hand that a right-handed individual would never even think about. Hell even just putting on your clothes in the morning will train some dexterity in your right-hand, which a right-handed individual would never do with their left. (Amusingly, the major exception to this would be some articles of women's clothing, which were originally oriented opposite a man's clothes so that a servant could fasten her clothes for her, using their right hand for the more dexterous bits.) (Actually, if you know your Latin, there's a pun in the previous sentence, and I am truly sorry for that.)

Now, when it comes to firearms, being a left-handed shooter can be annoying. It also means you're far more likely to write about firearms in some public capacity. So, that's a weird trend.

The biggest problem tends to be the controls. A lot of firearms will position their controls to be convenient for a right-handed operator. If you're left-handed, you'll find yourself having to reach over the weapon, or break fire position, to interact with those settings, more than a right-handed shooter would. This can include safety switches, fire control groups, magazine releases, slide/bolt catch releases, and even decockers.

It's fairly rare to encounter a handgun where the slide release and safety are ambidextrous. Ambidextrous mag releases are a bit more common these days than they used to be, so that's always nice. But, whenever someone breaks out a 1911, yeah, that's really expecting you to be right-handed.

This isn't just with modern firearms either. One of my favorite handguns is the Colt SAA. The gun is over 150 years old, and if you're left-handed, reloading it will see you dropping spent brass onto the back of your hand. (Or cradling the gun, and clearing the cylinders that way, which is entirely valid.)

Sometimes, you can modify a gun for left-handed use. This will often involve things like replacing the magazine release (and praying that the mags' manufacture considered someone would switch the release button, or cutting new release notches into your mags.) Revering the safety (which in some of the most obnoxious cases, also means replacing the grip paneling.) This is all doable, but you're going to put a lot of work into making the gun comfortable for your left hand.

Though, there are other solutions. The H&K USP's massive slide release leaver, designed for use with gloves, can easily be operated by a left-handed shooter's index finger. (Also, the USP has an ambidextrous mag release, and the safety/decocker is positioned so that you can, at least, safe and unsafe it with the first knuckle of your index finger, though, good luck decocking it, without moving your left hand out of the way entirely), and in other cases, you can flip your thumb over the slide to adjust it.

In the case of most push button releases, you can simply eject it by drawing back your middle finger and pressing the button directly. Though, this does lead to another problem. Your hand is not supposed to be right over that button at all times, and until you learn how to manage the recoil on a gun, it can very easy for a left-handed shooter to accidentally drop the mag after they fire. This is especially an issue for Glocks and SIG P220 series pistols. (Ironically, this is less of a problem with the Beretta 92/M9 family of pistols, given how the push button sits in the grip.)

If you what a modified left-handed pistol can end up looking like, McClane (Bruce Willis)'s Beretta from Die Hard was modified to accommodate his left-hand dominance, with the major differences being the slide release being modified, and the mag release being replaced with one that was easier to reach.

Behind the controls, is the slightly less common non-ambidextrous grips. I still remember this MP5 variant with a contoured thumb rest on the left side. Perfect for a right-handed shooter, but if you're a lefty, it would dig into your palm. This is slightly more common with hunting rifles, and sporting guns in general, but as the MP5 above indicates, it's not exclusive to them.

It's also worth remembering that this last issue can pop up with melee weapons as well. If a rapier is designed to be held in the right hand, it might not be compatible with your left hand. I've never seen this personally, but it's something worth remembering.

The end result is, a lot of left-handed shooters learn to shoot right-handed for situations where the firearm simply isn't compatible with their dominant hand. (Cue: multiple people saying, “hey, I never learned to shoot with my right hand.”) I don't know who those individuals are, but, frankly, unless they've only handled customized, left handed guns, I'm dubious about that one.

So, it is certainly a thing, but it affects firearms far more than melee weapons.

-Starke

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[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 09: Human shield/hostage

Simon Riley x gn! reader

You’d fucked up.

It was as simple as that and if you somehow get out of this alive you knew Simon was going to have your fucking head for worrying him. That and he’d make your life a living hell of PT and combat training.

You don’t even know how you’re managing to think about your potentially grim and annoying future when there’s a gun barrel pressed into the back of your neck, digging into the cervical column of your spine. 

Your knees sting from the cool cement you’ve been kneeling on for what feels like hours. They’re bloody and scraped to shit and your feet have long gone numb, attempts to wiggle your toes thwarted by the tingling pins and needles. 

Your wrists and hands are hardly faring any better, the thick rope having cut off circulation and rubbed the skin bloody and raw from your escape attempt. The one that had earned you the butt of a rifle to the gut so hard you’d almost thrown up. 

Sticky blood still drips down your forehead from where you’d been struck, pouring into your eye and rendering you half-blind. 

Whatever plans your captors have are derailed when Simon, no, the Ghost barrels into the room, an entity out for blood. He stops the second he assesses the situation, placing his hands up in a surrendering gesture when the muzzle of the captor's rifle digs more harshly into your spine. 

To the untrained eye, Ghost looked as calm as possible, seemingly barely phased by the scene in front of him. To you who knew him better than any living person, however, you knew that was far from the case.  

You’re glad Ghost is wearing his hood, he’s always had such an expressive face. You’d seen the way his eyes, the ones that always stared at you so softly, had widened in panic before he’d composed himself. 

He’s trying to defuse the situation or stall long enough for a sniper to get a good shot, which is unlikely given the incredibly small windows. 

It had been nothing short of a miracle that you and Ghost had even been deployed on the same mission (lack of available personnel), and you couldn’t be more thankful if you tried. Not because you thought he’d be able to save you, no matter how much you hoped, but because selfishly it gave you one last opportunity to drink him in. 

Desperately you prayed that Simon wouldn’t be forced to watch your brains splatter against the floor, though you can’t help but be glad that the last thing you see will be his eyes. The eyes that keep flickering back to yours to reassure you, though you think it's more for his benefit as he too memorises your features desperately. 

It’s also his way of silently apologising for putting on such a cold front. Training indicated he had to pretend not to know you very well, otherwise, the first instance of his true feelings shining through would result poorly for the both of you. It would give the enemy even more leverage over the situation. 

You can’t run the risk of nodding along or giving any indication that you understand and trust him more than anything, you just have to let it shine through on your mostly impassive face. They wouldn’t get to witness any of your panic, you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. 

Negotiations don’t seem to be getting anywhere when you finally tune back into the conversation. The situation is incredibly grim and just as you are about to accept your death an ear-shattering shot echoes through the room. 

You’d never be able to truly remember the next few seconds if you tried, adrenaline kicking into overdrive when your body hits the floor covered in blood before your brain registers that you are very not dead despite the gunfire. 

Everyone turns to the man holding the gun to your head in confusion. One, two, three, four seconds pass as it registers that he had not been the one to fire. Instead, it’s his body hitting the floor with a thud as red sprays from his skull. 

Those four seconds are all Ghost needs before he raises his rifle and takes out the other three men with a yell. It doesn’t take another four before he’s sliding onto his knees beside you, taking your head into his hands and pulling you against his chest as he pleads for you not to be dead. 

Your eyes open through the blood that’s drenched your upper half and Simon inhales shakily in relief when you finally murmur that it’s not yours. Your face is buried against his neck and his arms ensnare your shoulders, holding you crushingly tight against him as his shoulders shake slightly. 

You feel, because you can’t see anything past his vest, his head turn and his nose press tightly to your hairline as his breathing slowly evens out. 

“S’ok. I’m ok, you saved me” Your voice is hoarse with unshed tears and stress that finally burst forth as the dam wall you’d been keeping up crumbles. Simon mumbles something but it’s too soft for you to hear, you don’t ask him to repeat it because you understand the sentiment. 

His comms flare to life but Simon ignores them in favour of clutching you tighter against him, it takes you gently nudging him to answer for him to relent his grip even a little as he has to pull away a little to answer. Though he’s diving back against you almost instantly, this time he pulls off his mask, letting the bare skin of his nose press against your pounding pulse point. 

You don’t make any move to push him away, even as your arms and legs ache from the position because you understand. You don’t doubt you’d be just as clingy and desperate had the roles been reversed. 

Chin resting on his shoulder you speak softly and slowly, just for him. It’s a bunch of random nonsense that you won’t remember later but it doesn’t matter. It’s just another way to reassure him and you that you’re still alive and breathing. 

That you aren’t going anywhere. Not yet, and if the world lets you have your way, not ever.