#and both of my cats come straight to me when the fire alarm goes off regardless of where they are

[kaurwreck]

love that my cats are so into my new duvet that they've both upended their usual sleep routines to spend most of their time curled on it.

don't love that the eldest is neglecting her anxiety by falling into rem outside of her designated rem nest under the bed, as she sometimes startles and launches herself into the atmosphere.

[rocorambles]

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Cop and Criminal AU (Cop Iwaizumi, Criminal Reader), NSFW, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Bondage

Summary: Bad girls get punished. And criminals who go out of their way to make Iwaizumi’s life hell on a routine basis deserve extra special punishment.

Author’s Note: This is for the NSFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event! @multifandhoem I hope you enjoy~ (I really got carried away with the plot in this fic. One day I will learn how to write porn without plot, but for now, please accept my porn with way too much plot.)

Irritating Iwaizumi Hajime might be your favorite activity in the world. There’s just something so satisfying about watching his usually calm and stoic face shatter into an angry feral mess. And maybe, just maybe, something deep in your belly stirs as he growls and snarls at you, something primal in you writhing in excitement as he bares his teeth at you and chases you. 

You’ve lived a life of sins and crimes for as long as you can remember, but hard work has taken you a long way. So really, there isn’t any need for you to continue your petty thieving ways. You’re set for life with the money you’ve accrued from the countless successful exchanges you’ve made. It’s almost obscene just how much people are willing to pay for a few shiny stones or swatches of paint on a canvas. 

And yet you can’t help yourself from revisiting your bad habits of creeping in the shadows, analyzing floor plans, strategizing routes. Only now, your plans are centered around a brooding spiky haired cop with the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen instead of the number of zeros at the end of a number. 

You don’t know exactly what about Iwaizumi resonates so strongly with you. Sure, he’s handsome, but you’ve run into your fair share of handsome officers. You dare say Officer Sawamura could give Iwaizumi a run for his money in the looks department.

Maybe it’s the hints of wildness you see underneath his straight-laced façade. 

Maybe it’s the fire you see blazing behind his reserved countenance.

Whatever it is has you keeping tabs on him, has you concocting plans just sloppy enough for Iwaizumi to get tantalizingly close to you, but put together enough to have you escaping his grasp each and every time. And you cackle at the way his eyes light up when he thinks he has you pinned down, only to furiously scowl at your retreating figure when you taunt him with a flirtatious air kiss and a cheeky “maybe next time, sir”. 

It’s an endless game of cat and mouse, but you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. And you’re beginning to suspect that even Iwaizumi finds it amusing to a certain degree. 

You had been at a loss for words when the officer had merely trudged into the jewelry store you had been waiting for him in at your last heist, only to casually lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you holding the store’s most expensive strings of diamonds and pearls in your hands, teasingly holding them up to his face. And you hesitantly lower your arm, unsure what to do as the silence and stillness of the night stretches. 

There’s no growled threats or pointed firearm in your face like there usually would be right about now. And you swear there’s a hint of a smirk on the handsome face across from you as the two of you just stand there, stuck in the strange heady tension filling the air. 

But you almost drop everything you’re holding at Iwaizumi’s next words. 

“If you want my attention that badly, there are better ways of going about it.” 

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to laugh as your trademark smirk falls off the lower unmasked part of your face and he confidently saunters over to you, strong arms boxing you in against the glass counter, enjoying the rush of power he feels about the tables finally turning as you shyly look anywhere but at him. And something roars triumphantly inside of him when you gasp as he hooks his hand under your chin and forces you to meet him gaze on. 

“I’ve spent the last few months wracking my brain for answers. Why were you suddenly committing so many meaningless robberies? Robberies of stores and items so far beneath your caliber? Was it just coincidence that you were only committing crimes on the routes and nights I was working? Was I just imagining that it seemed like you were actively trying to avoid injuring me every time we clashed? None of it made any sense. But then your stupid flirting started and it made me think that maybe there was some rhyme and reason to your suddenly erratic behavior after all.” 

There’s silence as he lets you register his words and the rattling of jewelry as he plucks the expensive strands out of your hands and carelessly tosses them back in their case. But he softly smiles when you don’t deny his words and make no move to push him away or escape. 

“I believe in new beginnings and fresh starts, so when you’re done with your thieving ways, come find me. I’m curious about the woman under the mask.” 

It’s weeks before you have the courage to even secretly trail after Iwaizumi again after that encounter and even then, you don’t do anything but keep watch over him. 

His words echo in your mind and you don’t have the urge to steal and ring an alarm to beckon him towards you. Not when the greatest treasure of all is just within your grasp whenever you’re ready to summon the will to finally reveal your identity and meet him person to person in broad daylight instead of slithering around each other in the twisted tango of cop and criminal. 

But you aren’t ready yet and you merely keep tabs on him for now, curiosity and protectiveness getting the better of you, and if Iwaizumi notices the moving shadow that seems to follow him wherever he goes, he doesn’t bring attention to it. There’s something comforting, maybe even endearing, about how you’ve become a guardian angel of sorts to him, especially with the increasing body count and grizzly crimes being committed. And although he wishes you were safe and sound, tucked far away from the ricocheting bullets and corpses, his heart warms at the bouquet of lilies he finds on his doorsteps when he stumbles back home, empty and defeated, the weight of his partner’s death from a particularly bloody shootout still fresh on his mind. 

There’s no note, no letter, but he knows. Knows that it could only be you, knows that no one outside of his team or the criminals they had been fighting with could possibly know about the death so soon unless they happened to witness the scene. And that night he sobs himself to sleep, clutching your flowers to his chest, unaware of the way you forlornly stare at him from the roof across the street, heart aching and wishing more than anything that you weren’t such a coward, that you were brave enough to slip inside and comfort him in person. 

But life has a funny way of working, of not caring if you’re ready or not and your lives crash together once more in an unexpected way. 

Iwaizumi is promoted to lead the new task force aimed at squashing down the rising crime syndicates. You’re proud of him, but you can’t quell the anxiety that courses through you as you watch every raid that takes place, wondering if and when the day will come where he’ll be outmaneuvered, keeping your own skills sharp, praying that you’ll never have to use them again, but just in case…

And you thank whoever’s listening that you had kept up with your training as Iwaizumi’s team is ambushed and overpowered one night. Your heart drops and bile rises in your throat as officer after officer crumples to the floor, but you force yourself to calm down, to find an internal steady rhythm as you glide through the shadows, swiftly and secretly making your way towards the man you’ve become so attached to. 

You fight down the panic when you finally reach him, try to still the tremble in your hands as you quickly scan the growing dark red stain spreading across his shirt from his wounds, almost collapsing in relief when you find that they’re all superficial wounds, nothing life threatening or critical. 

The silent scuffle between the two of you is awful and you’re thankful that blood loss and pain have weakened him as you forcefully drag him away, nails gripping tightly into his skin as you roughly lead him to your apartment despite his struggling, despite his desperate desire to go back and help his few remaining teammates. And you’re both fiercely snarling at each other when you’re finally safe inside your apartment, fury raging in both of you as you snap at each other. 

“You should have let me stay and help!”

“So that you could end up dead like the rest of them? You were clearly outpowered and outnumbered!”

“Well you should have just let me die then, instead of helping me escape like a coward.” 

A resounding crack echoes throughout the room and it takes you some time to register the smarting pain in the palm of your hand and the fresh red mark on Iwaizumi’s cheek. But before you can even stutter an apology, a hand is fisting the front of your shirt and lips are crashing against yours in an angry impassioned act and you whimper as you are forced to taste his frustration and gratitude, his losses and gain, his despair and hope. 

And when he disconnects and the two of you gasp for much needed oxygen, you stand in the middle of your apartment, arms wrapped around each other, only the sounds of Iwaizumi’s sobs and your comforting words flitting through the air as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and you rub soothing patterns on his back. 

The rest of the night is a domestic peaceful drawl and you gently lead Iwaizumi to an armchair in your living room before scurrying away to rummage for your first aid kit and returning to kneel between his legs as you clean his injuries, apologizing as he winces at the sting of warm water and soap against his open wounds. There’s a soothing flow as you tend to him and you relax with every swipe of the towel, fingers and hands lingering just a tad longer than they should on his skin. But you stiffen when his uninjured arm raises and calloused fingers lightly trace the bottom of your mask. 

There’s an unspoken question in the way he delicately plays around with the corners of the fabric, but it seems deafening to you as your heart races. Maybe it’s the pure intentions in his eyes or the fact that your walls are weakened in the confines of your apartment, but either way, you don’t pull away, tilting your head up and stilling in silent confirmation. And something flutters in your chest as he gingerly removes your mask, heat rising to your face as green eyes stare at your face in awe for the first time, fingertips tracing every inch and line, mapping every groove reverently. 

It feels like eternity before you resume dipping the towel into the soapy water and treating him. But bandaged and deemed well, Iwaizumi is ushered to your shower and you shove a pile of clean towels and the largest loungewear you have into his hands, fully intent on locking him in the bathroom as you get a grip on yourself. But he has different plans in mind and you’re speechless as he firmly grasps your wrist before you can retreat with your tail between your legs. 

“Stay with me. Please.”

How could you possibly deny those honest eyes? 

Swipes of a soapbar against skin become intimate caresses and before you fully register what’s happening, you’re being pressed against the wall as Iwaizumi plunders your mouth, rough hands roaming all over your body as he fully explores everything you have to offer. You whimper as the hot water is suddenly turned off, the cold air crashing against you, but you let out a content sigh as a hot body wraps you in its embrace, carrying you to the sanctuary of your plush bedding. And all you know before you blissfully pass out is the sound of your wanton moans as you break apart over and over again, on Iwaizumi’s tongue, fingers, and cock, tears and drool cascading down your face as you alternate between begging for more and crying for him to let you rest before you ultimately pass out from the deliriously overwhelming ecstasy.

The sun is barely creeping in, a few slim tendrils slipping past the cracks of your window blinds when his eyes flutter open and something warm spreads in his chest as he slowly turns to observe your still soundly sleeping figure, a small upward quirk of his lips betraying how right it feels to wake up beside your vulnerable state. And although he can’t deny the allure of your body creeping through the night, he thinks that you’re the most beautiful like this, unmasked and body unconsciously seeking his presence and warmth as you curl into his space, your face nuzzling into his chest, head perfectly settled under his chin, the soft glow of sunlight enhancing your natural beauty. 

But he grimaces as his alarm continues to blaringly ring in the background, frowning as he reluctantly separates himself from you and carefully untangles himself from your bed sheets, quietly traipsing out of your room and dialing a number on his phone when he’s out of your earshot.   

Guilt and dread claw at him as the ringtone goes on and on and his throat is dry when he hears the authoritative voice through the speakers. 

“Iwaizumi? Are you okay?!”

Iwaizumi wishes he had a glass of water as he chokes out a polite greeting and he can feel hot tears prick at his eyes as he ceaselessly apologizes. Apologizing for abandoning his men. Apologizing for a failed mission. Apologizing for being such a failure as an officer, as a leader. 

But he quickly shuts up at the sharp tone that pierces his ear as Sawamura barks his name and he waits and waits, holding his breath, preparing to give up his badge, only to splutter in surprise at the warm relieved chuckle echoing across the speaker. 

“I’m glad you’re at least well enough to give me a headache with your wallowing. Good men died and we’re going to feel their loss for a long time. I won’t deny that. But no one blames you, Iwaizumi. You’re a good man, a great officer, and an even better leader. Rest up, grieve, mourn. Do whatever you need to do for the next few days. And when you’re ready, I expect to see you in my office so we can strategize about how we’re going to honor our fallen teammates by giving these criminals hell.”

He barely has time to stammer a “yes, sir” before the line clicks shut and the tears finally roll down his face as he clutches his phone in his hands, bittersweet gratefulness and sorrow blending together. And as his cries come to an end, a determined glint flickers in his eyes as he wipes the last of the salty trails away, the resolve of a man seeking vengeance forming inside of him. 

But that could wait until he was back in the swirl and chaos of the precinct. For now, he has other loose ends to tie and he quietly walks back to your room, smiling at the sight of your still slumbering figure nestled in your blankets as he makes his way towards you, intent on slipping back underneath the covers besides you. But he lets out a muffled pained curse as his foot knocks over a box besides your bed, the crash of objects dispersing across the wood floor rattling you awake, and you blearily blink your eyes open only to stare in shock and horror as Iwaizumi curiously holds up a set of black bondage restraints and a jeweled butt plug from among the scattered items, before sending an amused look and a quirked brow your way.    

If you were drowsy before, you’re wide awake now as you lunge out of bed, throwing yourself at Iwaizumi as you frantically try to regain possession of some of your most intimate belongings, pouting when he holds the items out of reach, a mischievous grin on his face as he looks down at you. 

“Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”

You pause your futile jumping as you try and bat your toys out of his hands, balking at the underlying meaning in his question, waiting for him to just laugh it off and move on. But when all he does is bring a warm hand to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone as he patiently gazes at you, letting you make the final decision, you melt and lean into his touch, shyly nodding your head as you blissfully sigh at the way it feels so right for him to be touching you. 

“Words, princess. I’m not going to be gentle. Not after all the teasing and headaches you’ve caused me. So I need to be sure you’re ok with this, that it’s what you want.” 

Brief descriptions of red, yellow, and green are barely out of your mouth before you’re suddenly being forcefully shoved onto the bed, body instinctively flailing in self-defense as you try to register what’s happening while binds are roughly being wrapped around your wrists and ankles. But you mewl in arousal as Iwaizumi’s weight settles on top of you, his hard chest pressing you against the bed as he dexterously ties you up until you’re in a spread-eagled position underneath him, unable to move even an inch. And your breath hitches at the hungry look he pins you down with as he sits back and enjoys the view of your trussed up body on complete display for him. 

But you grow impatient as the minutes drag by and Iwaizumi gives you an unimpressed look as you begin to fight against your restraints, whining for him to get on with it already. And he shuts you up with a punishing pinch to your inner thigh that has you yelping before getting up from the bed and perusing your box of toys. 

You crane your neck in every way as you try to get a sneak peek of what he has in store for you, but Iwaizumi puts that idea to a screeching halt as he slips a blindfold around your head and all you know is darkness and anticipation. Despite the way you try to intently listen for any warning, you squeal in surprise when a hot wet mouth latches onto one of your nipples, fingers tweaking the other and your entire world narrows down to your two perky buds, the lewd wet sounds of sucking filling your ears. Mouth and hands alternate and you can’t keep up with the fluctuating patterns, your breath coming out in pants, your pussy beginning to glisten with arousal, and you sigh in relief when the assault stops, glad to have a moment of reprieve, only to wail when the intense pressure of nipple clamps sears through you, the cold weight of the chain connecting the two clamps piercing your senses as it settles onto your skin. 

Pain and pleasure echo through your mind so loudly that you don’t sense Iwaizumi moving until fingers suddenly slip inside your dripping pussy and your back arches, the nipple clamp chain jingling with the movement and a rush of humiliation courses through you when Iwaizumi chuckles, commenting on how wet you are already. 

“I was going to prep you a bit more, but looks like this cock hungry hole is more than ready.” 

You’re practically salivating as something hard nudges against your entrance, already delirious just from the prospect of being filled with Iwaizumi’s cock once again, but enthusiasm turns to confusion which turns to pleasured shock as your rabbit vibrator is shoved inside of you and immediately set to its highest setting, your clit and walls stimulated so sharply, so suddenly. 

It’s so good, but it’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s not what you want. 

“Haji-Hajime, please. Want to cum on your cock. Don’t want a toy! Too much. At least turn it down. Haji-AHHHH!” 

You scream as you’re forced to an orgasm, body convulsing, jaw going slack, and you wait for the toy to be removed, wait for the settings to be lowered, only for dread and disbelief to fill you as a sticky thick substance is being inserted into your puckered hole, a lubed finger slowly entering you, taking its time to explore and spread your tight hole as the vibrator continues to ravage your pussy and clit at full intensity. And drool begins to seep from the corners of your mouth as you tumble headfirst into overstimulation as a plug replaces the fingers inside of your ass, nestling inside of you as you come to terms with the overwhelming feeling of being double stuffed. 

“Ha-Hajime please please please. Too much. I can’t-”

The plug inside of you is teasingly pulled just enough for you to feel the stretch of your hole, only to be shoved inside you once again and words are too hard to think of as the vibrator is thrust in and out of you, the slick sounds of your gushing cunt embarrassingly loud even above your whimpers. 

“Maybe I should make you cum for every robbery you ever committed. Maybe then you’ll actually behave and be a law-abiding citizen. Would you like that? Being too fucked out to even think about breaking the law?”

“No! Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I swear. Just please let me rest.” 

“Sorry, princess. Bad girls need to be punished.” 

A strangled sob escapes you as the vibrator is pushed even deeper inside of you, the smaller tip grinding even further into your clit and your cries are swallowed as Iwaizumi settles besides you, affectionately capturing your lips with his as he watches you break apart once again, smirking as your body and face try to draw closer to him, seeking comfort and relief as overwhelming pleasure drowns you. 

But he doesn’t stop. Not even when your begging and pleading turns into incoherent babbles and wanton noises. Not even when you’re too tired to even move, your body only twitching here and there from overstimulation, completely slack and mindless as pleasure melts your brain into mush. 

Only when the vibrator finally runs out of batteries hours later, the mechanical whirring coming to an end, does he finally relieve you of the object and you dazedly stare at him as he removes your tear-stained blindfold, slumping in relief that it’s finally over, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Iwaizumi’s arms and sleep for a long, long time. 

But he has other plans for the two of you and even in your exhausted state, your eyes fling wide open and you weakly whimper as he positions himself in between your legs, guiding his cock to your spent hole and easily slipping inside before caging you with his arms.

Your eyes roll back at the sudden intrusion and despite how wrecked you are, how used you feel, arousal once again begins to coil up inside of you as your walls accommodate the new object. 

All you can think about is the cock inside of you. All you can think about is the way it fills and stretches you. All you can think about is the way it drags against your sensitive walls as Iwaizumi begins to piston his hips in a brutal steady rhythm. 

The room is a cacophony of Iwaizumi’s grunts, your broken moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin and you can feel yourself losing to the pleasure as the now all too familiar knot in your stomach tightens once again, your body tensing and pulling taut against your restraints as something builds up inside of you. 

Iwaizumi isn’t doing much better, so pent up from watching you beautifully fall apart over and over again in front of him, so close to the real thing as he hovers above you, memorizing the blissed out look on your face, mentally recording every gorgeous sound that slips past your lips, and this time it’s all because of him. 

He increases his pace, groaning as your walls tighten around him as if they don’t ever want him to leave them empty, something feral inside of him howling as your mouth opens in a silent scream as you crash one last time, your body shaking and trembling, your cunt spasming around him as he spills long thick stripes inside of you. 

When there’s nothing left to give, every last drop of his essence deep within you, your body boneless and limp beneath him, he gently lays on top of you, burying his face in the space besides yours, murmuring praises and words of affirmation as he blankets your body with his. 

And when you finally come back to him, eyes looking a little more clear, voice regaining your sassy tone as you demand that he undo your restraints, he’s more than happy to oblige, carefully releasing you, rubbing every sore limb, letting you use him as your personal body pillow as you throw your arms and legs around him and bury your face into his chest, almost instantly falling into a deep exhausted slumber in the safety of his presence. 

There will be proper, much needed conversations and discussions when the two of you are both awake, sitting across each other with steaming mugs of coffee placed in front of you, hesitantly yet hopefully probing for answers. What are the two of you? What does the future hold for both of you? 

But for now, Iwaizumi lets his eyes shut, lets himself be lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as he holds you close to him, protectively curling around you as sleep embraces him.

[navegandoaciegas]

Little doll

Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, manipulation, controlling!Bucky, unhealthy relationship, mentions of violence in the past (no graphic description), smut, vaginal sex, oral sex (both male and female receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, slight praise kink.

Summary: You used to be a strong-willed independent woman, but after a whole lot of training, you’ve finally become Bucky’s perfect little doll for him to own, love and take care of. 

A/N: I had this idea in mind today and wrote this in a couple of hours for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s 4k writing challenge. Congrats! I hope it’s decent lmfao 

There is no graphic violence or non-con in this story, but it’s stated/hinted pretty heavily that these things did happen in the past. Reader has no physical description. 18+ only. English is my third language so sorry for any mistakes.

7.09 am

There’s a pulsing ache between your legs and a hot breath fanning over your neck that sends tingles down your spine.

“Baby?” you mumble in a daze, still half asleep, moaning and clutching the sheets when you feel a finger tease your entrance.  

“‘Morning, sleepyhead.” Bucky murmurs, peppering your cheeks with small kisses. 

You can’t fight back the smile that spreads on your face and you slowly pry your eyes open, finding your husband already looking at you in adoration. He lets his lips move downwards, nipping the skin of your throat and sucking little bruises there. A moan escapes you when the hand that was kneading your breasts pinches one of your nipples while his fingers keep sliding in and out of your pussy, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body.

You’re burning up, feeling a familiar pressure build up in your core already. You’ve been together for years, but you’ll never get over how good he is at this.  

His hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The hair on his chest and lower abdomen rubs on your sensitive skin, and you can’t get enough of all this. You never will. 

His name is on your lips like a prayer as you beg him for more, for that sweet release only he can give you. He complies, spreading your legs and settling between them. He trails open mouthed kisses down your body, slowly bringing his face to your awaiting cunt. The anticipation of what he’ll do to you is killing you slowly. He licks a strip of your dripping pussy and dips his tongue in your folds, pushing as far as he can go.

“So sweet.” 

He groans against you when you grab a fistful of his long hair and the vibration goes straight to your core, making the knot inside you tighter. You grind your hips against his face, fucking yourself with his mouth and crying out loud in pleasure. 

“So wet, so needy, all for me.”

He draws circles on your swollen clit and crooks a couple of fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch even more. 

You’re writhing underneath him, desperate for a release.

“Please, faster.” you moan, bucking your hips wildly.

“Beg for it.” he demands, jerking four fingers inside of you.

His bruising touch, the vibration inside your cunt, his soft kisses. It’s all too much and still not enough.

“Please Bucky, please let me cum all over your face, please, please, I’ll be good for you.” you beg like the cockslut you are.

He sucks hard on your clit, and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge, body shaking uncontrollably and vision going white. .

You’re spent, panting on the bed and feeling the familiar burn that his beard leaves behind on the soft skin of your inner thighs. Your walls flutter around nothing, and somehow you want more.

“Such a good girl for me.” He looks at you through half lidded eyes, lips red and swollen, face covered in your slick. You taste yourself on his tongue when he dips down and slants his mouth against yours, reigniting the fire inside of you.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to come again, all over my cock? Yes?”

You whine, feeling yourself grow hotter than before. “Yes, please, fuck me.”

He thrusts inside you, slowly at first, faster once he can sheathe himself fully without feeling any pain. You’re still sore from yesterday, but the familiar stretch of his thick cock is so good that you ignore the burn. You only feel him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“So perfect, made for me, my sweet girl.” he grunts in your ear, and the praise sends jolts of electricity directly to your cunt.

Your hands are roaming over his hard muscles and your walls are clenching down on his cock, impatient for another orgasm to wreck you.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of him fucking you, his balls hitting your ass, the squelch of your arousal, and he’s so vocal with his moans and grunts that you could come hard just listening to him.

His pace is more frantic than before. Your walls are milking him as he pounds into you relentlessly. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more pleasure, Bucky dips his hand behind you, fingers covered in your slick teasing your back entrance and pushing inside you, finding no resistance in your relaxed state. His pubic bone hits your clit repeatedly and you’re so full of his cock and fingers and him that you see stars.

“Cum pretty girl, cum all over my cock. Show me how good you are.”

He snaps his hips harder against you and you cry out when the pressure in your core releases, jolts of pleasure shooting from your cunt to the rest of your body, vision going blank. 

He swallows your cries with his mouth, and the feeling of you clenching around him is enough to send him over the edge too. His thrusts become sloppier and he cums hard, holding onto your waist with a bruising grip and biting down on your bottom lip.

He collapses on top of you, and you relish in the feeling of his hot release filling you up.

“Love you.” he mumbles, caressing your cheeks.

“Love you more.” you whisper with a smile, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

You stay impossibly close for what feels like hours, Bucky still inside you, encompassing your whole body, until the alarm clock goes off and he lifts himself up with a grunt. He stares in fascination as his cum slowly drips out of your cunt and onto the sheets.

“Don’t wanna go to work today, doll.” he whines, clinging onto you again and pouting like a child, “Wanna stay in bed with you.”

You chuckle, because he’s always so needy in the morning, and push him off you.

“We’ll stay like this all weekend, I promise. Now go get ready.”

-

The smell of freshly brewed coffee invades the kitchen and your senses. You love the fragrance, even though you aren’t allowed to drink it. Bucky says it’s bad for a dainty doll like you. You remember you used to be addicted to caffeine before; it was the only thing that kept you going during your long, strenuous shifts at the hospital you worked at as a nurse. Bucky provides for you now, so you don’t have to worry about that exhaustion anymore.

You drink loose leaf herbal tea these days.

You smile when a ray of light shining through the window hits the diamond ring on your fourth finger, projecting a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls. The eggs are sizzling in the pan, the bread slices are toasting in the oven and you can hear the faint noise of Bucky taking a shower.

You arrange the table the way he likes it: buttered toast and scrambled eggs on a plate, yoghurt and cut up fruit in a little stained glass container, a steaming mug of coffee, a tall glass of ice cold water and fresh flowers in a vase; the paper towel goes to the right side of the plate, with a fork and a knife with the sharp side that faces left on top of it. You nod in satisfaction at the spread and remove the strainer from your teacup.

Bucky greets you with a peck on the lips and a bright smile. He pulls the chair back for you, ever the gentleman, and sits on the other one, “Any plans for today?”

“The usual, y’know. I may go for a walk at the park, if that’s okay with you?” you hesitate on the last part, giving him a hopeful smile. You love to collect the wildflowers in the meadow and feed the ducks at the pond. Plus, walking is good for your health, and Bucky has you exercise at least once a day anyways.

“Of course you can, princess. Do you have enough birdseed or do you need more?” he asks, chewing a mouthful of eggs and toast, “I’ll give you extra money if you want to get it.”

You’re grateful he agreed. Truth be told, he hardly ever denies you anything now that you’ve learnt to behave. “Thanks, but it should be enough to last me another week, I think. Is Steve coming for dinner tonight?”

He shakes his head and sips on the coffee you made him, just the way he likes it: two sugars, one splash of full fat milk, a sprinkle of chocolate powder. “No, I think the punk’s staying home with Sharon tonight, ‘member her?”

You nod. You do remember Sharon. They’ve been dating for a while. She is a nurse like you used to be. Would Steve make her keep the job? 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice your pensive mood and checks his phone as he finishes the last of his strawberries. “God, it’s 8.35 already. I gotta hurry sweetheart, don’t want to be late again like yesterday.” he says with a mischievous smirk.

You feel warmth creep up your face at the memory of the reason why he was late, and you clench your thighs shut as you recall the image of you bent over this same table you’re at and him pounding into you from behind. He wouldn’t leave unless he gave you one more, and then another, until you were shaking and crying in pleasure. 

You both get up. He grabs his jacket and backpack, you hand him the lunch you’ve packed for him. He pulls you in for a sweet kiss, holding you by the waist. You taste the coffee lingering on his tongue and it reminds you of another life.  

He pulls away and nuzzles your hair, hugging you tightly. “I’ll miss you.” He mumbles in your ear, inhaling the calming scent of the lavender shampoo he’s chosen for you.

“I’ll miss you more. Have a good day at work.”

“Thank you, have fun at the park. Behave.”

You wave him goodbye from the front porch and stand there until his sleek black car disappears in the distance. You sigh, missing him already, and get inside, ready to start your day.

-

9.00 am

Bucky is a business manager at Stark’s IT company and his job is a 9-5, Monday to Friday, which means every week day you start your chores after he leaves.

He likes the house spotless and you never want to disappoint him. You shudder at the thought of what happens when you do. Thankfully, it hasn’t occurred in a while. Only bad girls get punished, and you hate punishments too much to be one.

You start downstairs: you open all the windows to let the fresh morning air inside and get to work. You vacuum and mop the floors, disinfect the kitchen counter and empty the dishwasher, sanitize every surface in the bathroom until it’s squeaky clean and smells like Bucky’s favorite lemon scented detergent. Then you move upstairs: you wipe down all the furniture, scrub the ensuite, change the soiled sheets and sort through the hamper, separating whites and colored.

You hum as you work, proud of yourself because you’ve perfected the cleaning routine in your time with your husband, so now it only takes you an hour and a half now to do the entire house.

You grab the basket of dirty linen and clothes and head downstairs to do the chore you hate the most: laundry. The basement where the washer and dryer are makes you quiver in fear when you think of it, but you haven’t found the courage to ask Bucky to move the appliances upstairs yet. Sometimes you still have nightmares about your time there, and Bucky has to hold you and rock you all night to calm you down.

It’s where you spent the first six months after he took you, locked up all alone. He’d visit you every night, but you didn’t appreciate that. You feel guilty now for all those times you fought him, especially the one time you managed to break his nose with your elbow and sprinted upstairs. He caught you just one step before the front door. God, you were so stupid. You’re lucky he got to you in time. What would a girl like you do without a man like him?

As punishment, you spent a week locked in a wardrobe, with no food and barely enough water to survive. You stopped fighting after that, and when he got you out you sobbed on his shoulder and let him hold you and bathe you. You slept in his bed that night, and all the nights that followed in these 3 years. 

Bucky never meant to hurt you, only take care of you, but you were too stupid to understand that back then. You understand now.

-

12.55 pm

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun is bright and there’s a light breeze blowing from west. 

You think of how you weren’t allowed to leave the house until a year and half ago. You missed the outdoors. But Bucky is a fair man and he lets you go wherever you want now that he can trust you. He even takes you on weekend trips wherever you desire. Maybe if you’re good enough, one day he’ll buy you a car, so you won’t have to walk everywhere.

You still have a tracker implanted in your forearm, but that’s for your own safety.

You spread a blanket underneath your favorite tree; from your position you can see both the water and the meadow, and that lovely wooden bridge over the pond too. 

You’re basking in the sun as you reflect on all the new hobbies you’ve picked up now that you don’t have to spend the better part of your days in a hospital.

You embroider, you try out new recipes, you read, you do yoga, you paint and draw, you collect flowers and leaves and you dry them up in your botanical journal. You’ve become quite good at taking care of the garden in these past few months, and the roses you’ve planted are growing nice and strong. Sometimes you go for a swim in the ocean, some others you go shopping. The house is entirely decorated in your paintings, and you often give them to Bucky’s friends and family too.

You don’t have friends or family anymore. You only have Bucky.

You never thought you would enjoy these activities so much, just like you never thought you could be so free. Of your job, of so much pain and sorrow, of the hardship that comes with free will, of the choices you make that weigh you down until you can’t sleep anymore.

Who knew having your freedom taken away would be so liberating. Not you. 

You have Bucky to thank for that. He always knows what’s best for you.

-

5.29 pm

Bucky’s been thinking about you all day and as soon as he’s clocked out, he couldn’t come back home fast enough. He smiles when the front door opens and he’s hit by the smell of freshly baked cookies. You really spoil him too much.

You run into his arms as soon as you realize he’s back, hugging him tightly, mumbling about how much you’ve missed him.

You’ve made dinner for him, just like he expects of you. Homemade basil pesto pasta, grilled salmon, oven roasted vegetables, white wine for him, tonic water for you because alcohol is bad for little dolls, white chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

You chat about your days over food, and when you’re both done you clean up while he changes into more comfortable clothes.

He has a reward for you, since you’ve been so good lately, but he wants you to earn it.

“On your knees.” he commands, and like the perfect doll you are, you comply.

You look up at him with your innocent doe eyes and Bucky knows he could come at the sight of you so beautiful, so obedient alone. His hands work swiftly as he pulls down his sweats and gets his already hard cock out. 

“I want to fuck your mouth.” he says, tracing your lips with his red tip, “Open up, doll.”

You do as he says. You take him in your mouth and his eyes instinctively roll back at the feeling of your wet tongue licking a strip from base to tip; your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him off, one hand pumping his length and the other massaging his balls.

He aches for more, so he grabs a fistful of your hair in what is probably a painful grip, judging from the way you gasp, and he takes that as an opportunity to slant himself inside your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. He shoves himself deeper and deeper until you can't breathe, your face is red and your eyes full of tears. You steady yourself holding onto his thick thigs as he keeps fucking your mouth harder, balls slapping your chin.

Saliva is dripping down on your face as you’re choking on his cock, and those gagging noise you make vibrate against him, making this all the more pleasurable. He knows you won’t complain anyways, no matter how much he abuses your mouth or your cunt.

He knows you’ll always comply. He’s made sure of that.

With a last thrust in your mouth he pulls out just in time to paint your face with his hot spurt. You look perfect with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cum all over you.

“You did so good princess.” he praises you, and you smile up at him, “Go get cleaned up now, we’re watching a movie. You choose.”

You beam, and he knows you’ll choose one of those Disney movies you like so much.

Good girls always get a prize.

-

11.00 pm is your bedtime. Little dolls need their 8 hours of sleep.

You’re already fast asleep, and Bucky looks in complete devotion and adoration at your form. You’re so pretty, so perfect, so completely his.

You’ve been so good lately that he hasn’t had to punish or discipline you in more than six months.

You’re no longer the stubborn woman you used to be, the one that broke his nose and resisted all he’s put you through for months. You’re finally a little doll for him to own, love and care for. His little doll to dress up and play with. He’s especially happy tonight, because he knows you’ll love the reward for being so good this time. 

It’s only taken Steve two years, because Sharon wasn’t as strong as you, but he’s done now.

Bucky knows how lonely you can get. Tomorrow you too will have a friend, another little obedient doll like you to play with.

-

read my other dark!bucky fic here

I hope you liked this! If you did, please reblog and let me know what you thought of it. 🥺

[bakugohoex]

Are you still taking in requests? I notice they're open but you seem to have a bit right now, so I apologize if you aren't. Anyway, uhm, if they are open, could you write for Hawks walking in on reader rapping? Just straight up spitting fire at a million miles a second? I see a lot of fics where the character walks in on reader singing and being like "uwu? You can sing? How pretty! Do it again!" and I wanted to see more of a dumbfounded "No amount of words can describe how absolutely sick that was!" reaction. Sorry again if you aren't taking in requests!

“where the fuck did you learn how to do that”

pairing: keigo takami x female reader

cw: language, kissing, fluff

word count: 1100+

a/n: hi, i made something please like and reblog and comment anythign really it’ll really help the cause of ria doesn’t know what she’s doing but she revised six hours today and is now braindead, my requests were open at that time i like putting pressure on myself 

summary: in which keigo hears you rapping in the shower and even though it was a shock he can’t help but to join you showering

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist 

This man has no chill

He will fly into the balcony of your apartment and unpick the lock to the door just because he’s too lazy to walk up the stairs of your complex

The idiot doesn’t even realise that you’re in the shower and just creeps around the apartment looking for entertainment 

Before he hears the shower, you’d think with his stupid hawk like hearing he’d be able to hear the shower or the song playing but no.

He was in the freezer finding some chicken nuggets to cook up 

Hungry ass bitch who free loads off you

But you love the baby and even leave notes on the fridge for his unexpected visits

That’s when he hears something, he never expected

Shocked, this man was busily away putting the nuggets in the oven and he hears you belch out in quickened words

You were rapping and he was in a constant emotion of what the actual fuck and where the fuck did, she learn how to do that

He’s a perv and he goes into the bathroom and joins you in the shower

But still manwhore who likes listening to your rap at least 

The sound of the shower turning on instantly caught his ears, so you were in the apartment he thought out mindlessly. He went to the fridge freezer seeing the little note in your cute handwriting which you thought looked like a doctors handwriting.

The simple words of ‘there’s chicken nuggets in here, don’t make them all, love Y/n.’ It was cute with a heart beside your name, he smiled at the note taking it and putting it in his pocket before opening the freezer.

He ignored you completely and made all of them, he was a growing man of course but the thought of your face with the 30 chicken nuggets made him relish in your future anger. He heard the music play a song by some rapper he didn’t know, it was a Tiktok sound that you had been shoving in his ear for weeks now. He hated the sound of the one verse, but you had clearly become obsessed adding it your playlist in an instant.

He leant against the counter waiting for the nuggets whilst you in the shower waited for the verse to come on. You scrubbed at your body in delight at how you had finally learnt the verse, you both heard the ‘I’m going in tonight’.

Before you spewed out the whole Dojo Cat verse, of course you weren’t that much of a fan of hers but the Tiktok sound had become your life and you needed to learn it even if it was your life’s mission. You had rehearsed and rehearsed it and finally in the shower you were having your performance.

You were in time and everything about the verse flowed out of your mouth you had perfected it and you couldn’t wait to annoy Keigo with it even more. What you hadn’t realised was Keigo had been listening from behind the door and he was shocked to say the least.

You had rapped it perfectly and all he could think was what the actual fuck, he didn’t hesitate, quickly removing his clothes and leaving them outside the door before he slipped inside the bathroom.

You hadn’t heard as the next song came on which you hummed washing the conditioner out of your hair. You heard the ruffle of the shower curtain before arms wrapped around you, you gave a scream as Keigo’s grip tightening. “Don’t worry kid, it’s just me.”

You sign in relief leaning against him, his arms around your waist whilst you put soap on your body, he scrubbed at your body making you become cleaner. “When did you get here?” You speak getting some more soap and putting it on his own bodies, he small wings getting wet which you knew he hated.

You moved the soap across his body waiting for him to sleep, “about 20 minutes ago, I heard you y’know.”

“What?” You questioned your arms moving his shoulders.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” He retorted back, you understood what he meant but laughed it off.

You took the water putting it on the two of you as his hands wrapped around you again, his head leaning on your bare shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses up your neck. “I practiced, I wanted to get it right and was going to show you tonight.”

“I hate the song so much.” He mutters.

You laugh spraying some water on him, which made him pout, “I know, I wanted you to suffer.”

“Whatever, it was probably the coolest thing you’ve ever done.” He mimics back turning to grab your towel whilst you turned the water off.

“Hey, I’m cool.” You mutter.

He gives a look which you take as a Y/n you are not cool in anyway and wraps the towel around you. Before going underneath the sink to get himself one of your spare towels, wrapping it lowly across his waist, with the beads of water across his body and hair drooping down.

“You’re cool to me.” He jokes out.

“We sound like the elderly.” You mutter, he grabs your waist carrying you and the towel out of the bathroom and into your room.

“The elderly wouldn’t be able to fuck like we do.” He puts you on the bed, your hair wet and spewed out on the bed but he goes to kiss you softly.

You don’t make a comeback only kissing back and feeling the water across the two of you, undoing the towel to see you all. He stays on top entrapping you between his arms whilst you kiss him lavishly, he bites your bottom lip making you moan and having the access straight to your tongue. He wanted to fuck you but instead the sound of the alarm of the oven went off and he let go of you.

“I’ve been cockblocked by food.” He mutters walking out of your room leaving you high and dry. You scoff wrapping the towel around your hair whilst putting his hoodie and shorts on before following the man.

He had worn the discarded clothes he had left on the floor, leaving his brown jacket on the sofa as he wafted the chicken nuggets to get warm. “My favourite.” You speak with love in your eyes.

“Aww am I real…” Before Keigo could continue to relish in the praise he thought was for him, you grab the nugget sitting on the counter top. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” You pick at the nugget letting air hit it as you smile at the boy.

“Yeah, I don’t, baby bird.” He says coming in to kiss your cheek, you watched whilst he continuously tried using his feathers to cool the nuggets, laughing at your idiot of a boyfriend.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world

[kbstories]

habits

(Or: Bakugou is a little shit and a dork. 1-A gets used to it.)

Read on: AO3 / Twitter

*

One lesser known truth about Bakugou Katsuki is that he's an unrepentant thief of snacks.

Class 1-A is blissfully unaware of this habit all the way up to their move to Heights Alliance. There, they not only share living space, but every meal of the day as well — a status quo that revealed many a peculiar fun fact about most classmates, really.

Bakugou's first victim by sheer proximity is Kirishima. They're hanging out outside after a weekend session at the gym, drinking their electrolytes and talking about the pros and cons of different brands of protein bars. Well, Kirishima is, at least.

Bakugou is huffing, saying, "It's all bullshit", as he gives the one Kirishima is currently eating the side-eye. "The food industry is one big scam, really. Learn to cook your own stuff and you won't need processed anything."

"Okay", goes Kirishima, long used to debating him on anything from hero rankings to the weather. "But consider this: I burn anything I cook. Anything, dude."

"That's factually impossible."

"...I burned water trying to make ramen once?"

"Shitty Hair. Water doesn’t— How the fuck?“

Kirishima laughs, waving the half-eaten protein bar around. "I don't know, but there was smoke, I swear! I set off the fire alarm and everything, my moms were so done. Life-long kitchen ban in my own home, that's me."

Bakugou groans a disgusted eugh sound. "Fucking understandable."

When it only makes Kirishima smile all the wider, Bakugou pushes at his shoulder, a shove too rough to count as affectionate by anyone's standards but Bakugou's.

"Fine. Normal people shouldn't eat protein bars. You shouldn't either, but you'd starve without 'em, apparently."

"Or, you could, y’know, cook for m—"

Another shove, enough to push a still-laughing Kirishima over. "Keep trying, dickhead. Pshh, cooking for you. In your dreams, maybe."

Kirishima hums and says nothing, his idle sip of sports drink interrupted by Bakugou pulling him to his feet.

"Who cares, c'mon. Don't think for a second I forgot about Thirteen's assignment."

A sputtering gasp from Kirishima. "Thirteen gave us an assignment?!“

"...Kirishima."

"Wait, no, listen. Why do physics have to, like, exist?", is Kirishima's brilliant argument. Nailed it.

Bakugou just stares. Then he snorts, "Fucking hell", shakes his head. "Whatever, I'm gonna make lunch and you're gonna do your damn homework. Maybe I'll let you have some. There's a faint chance. Very faint."

"Bro", Kirishima looks at him in wonder. "What about this, though?“

The glance Bakugou gives Kirishima's protein bar is downright offended if a little confused, too. "What about it?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll just throw it awa—"

Bakugou moves so fast, all Kirishima sees is a blond blur.

Suddenly, the hand holding the snack is empty and Bakugou is chewing, having snatched the thing up with his teeth and devoured it like a beast from myths and legends.

"Problem solved, we're going. Huh, these don't even taste that shitty.“

Kirishima is too stunned to resist.

The Bakusquad is next in line when it comes to Bakugou's food-related crimes. Specifically, the croissant Kaminari is enthusiastically gesturing with to emphasize the point that yes, sneaking off campus for one (1) French pastry was definitely worth risking Aizawa's wrath over.

"It's perfectly baked. Look at its impeccable shape", Kaminari holds it up to his circle of friends like its his first-born child, "and the crust! It's so fluffy. I've been craving one all freaking week. This is gonna be so—"

Chomp.

Before Kirishima can even attempt to stop the tragedy waiting to happen, Bakugou has wandered back from his room, a stack of books under one arm and Kaminari's prized croissant in his mouth. The books are slammed on the table.

"Less talking, more studying", Bakugou snarks, somehow without getting crumbs of the stolen treat on anything. "Where'd ya get this from, anyway? S'good."

Kaminari’s jaw is on the floor, shell-shocked. "My… My croissant..."

"Sorry, bro", Kirishima sighs and pats his back. "He's just too damn quick."

The words are said with a look towards Bakugou, the that-wasn't-nice-man kind. Bakugou wrinkles his nose at him. (The very next day, an identical croissant shows up on Kaminari's plate during lunch break.)

Weeks fly by. By then, most of 1-A has been caught unawares by Bakugou's sneaky ways exactly once. They're training to be Heroes, after all — there's no way he'd get the drop on them again, at least not as easily.

Bakugou seems to be aware of this.

It doesn't stop him from snatching away Tokoyami's apple during movie night, smirking at both him and Dark Shadow with near-obnoxious levels of smugness. Tokoyami stares him dead in the eye while he grabs another one, one feathery brow raised in challenge.

Aoyama's handpicked brie is next, the guy's offended swearing almost as colorful as Bakugou's on his worst days. Bakugou outright cackles at that, obviously delighted by the prospect of someone else being subjected to Iida's no-cursing lecture for once, foreign language or no.

Speaking of Iida: It's his unopened cup of chocolate pudding Bakugou is eyeing like a cat does an especially oblivious mouse.

"Dooon't", Kirishima warns, hand hardened and ready to make a grab if needed. "I swear to Crimson Riot. Let the poor man have his pudding, or else."

"What has Iida even done to you, bro?", adds Kaminari, sliding his food tray into his usual spot across from them. "Like, I get it, I've pranked you enough times to owe you twenty croissants. And you're carrying Kirishima's entire academic career, so targeting him is valid, too."

"Hey! ...That's fair, actually. Carry on."

Kaminari winks at him. It's not like it's any different for him. "Iida, however, is wholesome, and—"

"Guys, you're making a great point and all that“, Ashido contributes over her bowl of natto. "But he's already gone."

Kirishima's head whips around. Indeed: No Bakugou. "No!"

"How is he this stealthy?!" Kaminari whines. "Bakugou, of all people!"

A few tables over, Iida is currently mid-story and too wrapped up in telling his audience of Momo, Todoroki, Uraraka and Midoriya about his adventures of googling what Aoyama had yelled out in sparkly rage the day before to notice a certain someone approaching.

Bakugou smiles, certain of his victory. Pretending to walk past them, he takes one hand out of his pockets and reaches out—

Only for his arm to be slammed to the table with a loud bang, mere inches from the desired snack.

"Kacchan", Midoriya pipes up casually, eyes still on Iida who — like everyone else at the table — jumped half a foot in the air from the sudden movement. "That's not yours."

Every member of 1-A is blatantly watching as Bakugou, food thief extraordinaire, is stopped in his tracks for the first time since his reign of terror began.

A collective breath is held. Surely, this will lead straight into a showdown of epic proportions in the middle of U.A.'s cafeteria. After all, any interaction between Midoriya and Bakugou tends to end in a shouting match, chaos or even bloodshed. And Bakugou does look intense, glowering at Midoriya as the muscles in his pinned arm bunch up and his palm starts to glow.

Then, he goes tch and rolls his eyes, grumbling: "Let go, Shitty Nerd. Figures you'd be the only one paying fucking attention."

Midoriya smiles and does as asked, pushing his own pudding cup closer to Bakugou right away. A blatant offer that's equally as blatantly ignored, as expected.

The actual food was never the point, after all.

Bakugou huffs off, lips upturned in somewhat of a smile of his own. Not that he'd ever admit to it as he rejoins his own friends, snapping at them to close their mouths and finish their lunch already.

Read on: AO3 / Twitter

[ellana-ravenwood]

Batfam and friends after dentist

I just remembered this video : clickclickclick, and this happened. Please, don’t take it too seriously it’s just a fun little joke post haha. I hope you’ll still enjoy it a little nonetheless ^^. Here we are, the Batfam and friends, after dentist :

DICK

Dick : “Turns out my dentist is not giving me a plaque for great teeth after all. He really hurt my fillings.” Makes all the WORST pun you can think about, to calm his nerve, as he’s about to go to surgery to take his wisdom teeth out. Bruce is there, for support. Of course, he’d be there for his son. Dick wakes up, the surgery went GREAT. He looks around, a little groggy, looks at his dad, and...Starts to rap absolute nonsense, as if his life depended on it : 

“I'm feeling the rainbow like skittles

dropping reptars like my name was tommy pickles

for rizzle, thats drizzle?

nah my nizzle, thats the shizzle”

Asks Bruce to buy him a “big ass gold chain” and if the dentist could transplant silver teeth on him now, “while we’re at it”. Bruce is able to reason with him and convinces him that sure, he’ll buy him the gold chain he wants, but he should wait for the teeth because his mouth is still too numb and such. Dick agrees that it sounds sensible, but does not drop the subject of him becoming a successful rapper. On the way back to the Manor, they stop to buy a gold chain, because Bruce cannot resists when his kids give him the “puppy eyes”. Dick choses the ugliest biggest thing in the entire shop. It says “bling bling” on it, has a few shiny diamonds, and is about twice the size of his head. He looks at it as if it was the best thing on earth while on the ride home. The drugs start to wear off but as a result he’s super tired again, he goes to sleep...Wakes up with that ugly chain, wondering what the hell happened. 

JASON

Woke up after wisdom teeth removal. Got pissed because he really wanted Coca Cola but there was only Pepsi. Proceeded to tell Bruce that him bringing Pepsi back instead of Coke was worst than when he didn’t kill the Joker to avenge his death (queue Bruce nervously looking at the nurses, and really insisting on how funny people who just got their wisdom teeth removed could be). After the Pepsi/Coke debacle claimed he has 9 children (Bruce’s influence for sure hahaha). Apollo and Jean-Claude being his favorite two. Proceeded to cry because he admitted he had favorite children, and thought it was horrible to choose a favorite. Apologized to “his” kids that were definitely not there and talked about how his dad (pointing at Bruce), never had favorites. Bruce is touched. Until Jason remembers the Pepsi incident and tries to escape the room by jumping out of the window to go pouting alone somewhere. Queue a ridiculous struggle between Bruce and his son, as Jason, still quite limped and out of it because of the sleeping drugs, resists as best as he can while his dad drags him to the car to go home, trying to be as gentle as possible because he doesn’t want to hurt Jason’s mouth. Just to be sure, Bruce stops on the way to buy a bunch of coke bottles... 

TIM

After waking up from getting his wisdom teeth removed, sitting in a wheelchair because he can’t stand yet (Tim is very resistant to anesthetic, and they had to give him more than usual for it to work), telling to Bruce who’s wheeling him back to the car, in a very dramatic way : “Lady, I thank you for your help. You have to release me back to the ocean now. My time on land, is over.”

Bruce, not sure he quite understood : “...What was that, chum ?” 

Tim : “I said please m’am, get me back to my people. They need me.” 

Then the boy proceeds to stick both his legs up, and move them as if he was a mermaid, making “woosh” sounds with his mouth as if he was splashing water around. Bruce doesn’t even try to reason with him (he remembers how it was impossible to do so with Jason and his Coke, or with Dick who really thought he was a rapper), so he goes along with it, talking about Tim’s “people” and why he can’t stay on land. Queue a dramatic full of adventure stories where he was taken away from his land and...and Bruce realizes the boy is kinda telling Aquaman’s story (that he probably learned by hacking into Batman’s secret files he has on everyone). He seems to really believe it...When they get back home, Tim is suspicious because there is no ocean, but his dad convinces him that the pool is said ocean, and Tim solemnly say “good bye” to Bruce, before dipping into the water. Of course, Bruce keeps an eye on him, because in the state he is there might be accidents, but Tim just lays there, on his back, floating around and mumbling about fish species he knows. Eventually, the cold water gets to him and he finally comes back to his senses. Bruce helps him out of the pool, and Tim goes to sleep, wrapped in blankets, holding his dad’s hand. 

CASSANDRA

She had to have a rather heavy mouth surgery after an accident, and woke up ,slowly, in a hospital bed. Bruce was there of course, waiting patiently, worried, and hoping she’d wake up soon. It was nerve wracking to wait for your child to be better ! When she does wake up, she doesn’t even look lost or anything, although the surgeon told Bruce that she was probably gonna be feeling a little hazy and such. So the fact she seems totally fine reassures her dad. And then suddenly she throws her blanket off of her, stands up so fast that Bruce’s brain doesn’t have time to react, and walks to the nearest fire alarm. She looks at Bruce straight in the eyes, pull the alarm, and just says : 

“Shit’s fire.” 

DAMIAN

He had to have a minor surgery on his jaw, but was still put under anesthetic. Bruce, having witnessed his other kids under it, is ready to have a good laugh...But his boy is just sitting there, waiting for his father to fill in some paperwork and pay for the surgery. Yeah sure, it’s a little weird that he keeps petting his tongue but, ya know, maybe he’s feeling weird because his entire mouth is numb. Then Bruce is done with paperworks and such, and goes to Damian, who proceeds to tell him he got “a ‘ew ‘at” (a new cat)...

“Um. Really, champ ? Uuuh...Where is it ?” ----> Bruce playing along. And then Damian looks at him and breaks into a huge goofy smile and says : “’Ight ‘ere.” (Right here) Showing the tongue he has been petting for the past twenty minutes. Damian then tells to whoever goes by that he has a new cat and asks them if they want to pet him. Bruce takes him home, laughing to himself all the way, and promises a Damian who came back to his senses that this little story will indeed stay between them. 

BRUCE 

Not actually him after dentist, but something I thought about a lot :

Dentist : “Mister Wayne, do you grind your teeth ?” 

Bruce : “Yes. Have you seen how many children I have ?” 

Also, he waits the last minute before having to urgently remove his wisdom teeth, because the big bad bat is...afraid of the dentist. Alfred has to go with him. Bruce makes sure all the kids are busy this day, to their great disappointment...Alfred takes a lot of video for them (because it’s unfair he got to see them all floozy and they didn’t). The kids make a montage of it and post it on YouTube, as well as on instagram stories, calling it : “Is Bruce Wayne ok ?”, and it’s like a bunch of short images of what Bruce did after his surgery, still under the anesthetic’s influence. Him crying, him laughing like a mad man the second after, him hugging a pillow shaped like a tooth and refusing to let go because he thinks it’s the one they took out of his mouth, blabbering nonsense, asking for a “taco milkshake” etc etc...Of course, video went viral. 

ALFRED 

Has apparently nothing wrong with him, which is infuriating to the family who was really expecting him to have something that they could eventually use against him. Since he “raised” most of the them, he has way too much leverage against them, and they have way too little. But he’s just normal, and it’s so annoying. 

Up until they come home, and he goes in the kitchen, ignores Bruce telling him that he needs to get some rest, and proceeds to whip a five course meal, making the weirdest combination ever...Porridge and Turkey ? Saurkraut in an Enchilada ? Salt and Vinegar chips in a smoothie ?

STEPHANIE

Bruce picks her up after her wisdom teeth removal (it’sjusttheeasythinghaha), along with Tim, and she has that dreamy look in her eyes. Tim asks her if she’s alright, and she’s like : 

“The dentist said I need a crown.” 

Tim and Bruce are a little perplex, like, this doesn’t sound nice ? But then Steph looks at them and just says : 

“I said, I KNOW RIGHT ?! Guys. I’m going to be a queen.” 

Queue Bruce and Tim smiling, and Steph mumbling something about how one day, she’ll be the boss of them haha. 

DUKE

Of course, Bruce went with Duke because...Well, he unfortunately has no one else :/. And when you have any sort of surgery, it’s nice to have someone you trust with you. So. Anyway. Surgery goes on, and Duke wakes up after a few hours, a little out of it. He looks at Bruce, smiles and is like : “Hiii Brush !” while laughing a little to himself. Which makes B smile too, but then he gets worried because all of a sudden, Duke freezes, and stares at the nurse. Then after a few seconds he’s whispering to Bruce : 

“Hey, hey, why didn’t you tell me that Céline Dion was my nurse ?” 

Evidently, Bruce is confused. Duke then proceeds to admit his biggest guilty pleasure is to blast Céline Dion’s songs when he’s alone. Gushes over that nurse that looks NOTHING like Céline Dion, but he’s SURE it’s her. He blushes and is embarassed because he’s such a fan ! But then finally asks for an autograph, sings her songs badly (even worst with all the gauze in his mouth), and leaves the room, holding onto Bruce, with tears in his eyes because man...he just met Céline Dion ! 

BARBARA

Wakes up from having her wisdom teeth removed, crying, admitting that she killed the president...Which one ? Martin Van Buren of course. Spends the next few minutes crying about how she’s a disgrace to her family because she killed someone and HER DAD IS A COP !! Starts to sing : “Mammmaaaaaaaa, I killed a maaaaaaan” while still crying. But then suddenly is sure that she actually got framed, and becomes super suspicious of everyone, everything culminating when Dick comes to pick her up to bring her home and she thinks he’s the one that is “blackmailing” her, so she takes a run for it...Dick gets Barbara back to her place with a black eye, saying “I don’t want to talk about it” to Commissioner Gordon. Haha. 

LUCAS FOX :

As the dentists says : “I need to put some bitewings in your mouth for the X-rays ok ?”

Luke Fox : “Bat...wing ? Oh. OH ! BATWING !” Hahahaha (could also work with David of course). 

************

Ok done. Again, nothing to take too seriously, it’s obviously just a few little jokes :). Wanted to share nonetheless, I like writing “domestic” lighthearted Batfam stuffs...haha ^^' .

Ah and yeah I know some members of the Batfam extended family (it’s pretty big now) are missing, but I guess it just means I’ll make another post about it hehe. So please, don’t give me too much grief about those I “forgot”, it was getting too long ^^. 

[neighborhood-merc]

Guys !!! I am back! First of all, I hope all of y’all (your friends, family, pets! too) are doing alright. Keep safe! Wash your hands! Don’t go out if not necessary! Kisses! Kisses! Kisses! Alright, alright, let’s do this shall we? Same shit applies. [Here is Part 1 & 2 btw ] 

The themes of the stories on this list varies, I’m either into something heart-warming, fluffy, domestic that sort of stuff or into some really really heavy and dark messed up ones. (READ THE TAGS) It always depends on the mood am I right? *wink wink*

It’s always gonna be smutty though lol

As long as it’s tastefully written, whatever kinky shit, I can be into it, I don’t judge the writer (they give us free content y’all, who are we to judge??) With that being said if I add something straight up messed up here now/or in the future, don’t come for meh, just mind the tags of the fic, for your own discretion if anything.

this list should be Wade Wilson/Peter Parker - Spiderman/Deadpool pairing only. I kinda like my babies greedy/possessive for/of each other.

READ THE TAGS.

I don’t care who tops or bottoms.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summaries are taken directly from the fanfic’s summary.

Read the tags first!

Deluge (this is such a good boi, this fic is a good boy!) Weapon X chose Wade Wilson because of several factors in his life. He was a preternatural. He had extraordinary abilities that could be expanded upon. The cancer just made him desperate enough to agree to whatever they wanted to do with him.They didn't just turn him immortal. They destroyed his very soul, tearing him apart and shaping him into something new and never seen before. They took everything he had been and left him with ashes and bones. Soulless.He killed his creators and went on with his life.Then he met Spider-Man.Things started to change.Something inside him, something that had come out of the ashes and was a nightmarish, terrible thing, sat up and took notice. An intense, single-minded notice.

The Perks of Working Third Shift An AU in which Wade is wandering the globe and ends up in NYC where he meets the absolute most perfect man he's ever seen who's working third shift at a quick mart. Even better, the man seems happy to flirt back. Wade makes it his mission to score a date.Peter stopped dating a long time ago, but Wade's flirtations, energetic attitude, and hilarious comments make it hard for Peter not to enjoy the attention. But will all of that be ruined if Wade finds out his secret?

Better Like This  (Listen,  NotEvenCloseToStraight’s Spideypool works are amazing, read all of em, honestly just check out ALL the works of the writers on my list because if I list everything, this is gonna be a long ass list) No one knows Spider-Man is an Omega. Not the newspapers, not the NYPD, and certainly not the overly loud, definitely obnoxious, sort-of-a-good-guy, completely Alpha, Deadpool. And Peter would like it to stay that way. But when he drops into an unexpected heat, Deadpool is the only person he can call to help, and how quickly the Alpha switches from shouting dirty innuendos to whispering comforting things really throws Peter for a loop. After sharing a heat, Peter is convinced that Wade is his Alpha, and is ready to take him as his mate, but Wade rejects him. Wade knows that a man like him wouldn’t make anyone a good mate, much less a perfect, pretty Omega like Peter. So he says no, pushes the Omega away and unable to even work together anymore, they go their separate ways. Peter is devastated, heartbroken, seeking comfort in the arms of another Alpha, and all Wade can do is watch from a distance, and keep telling himself that he is doing the right thing, sparing Peter a life of disappointment and pain. Peter deserves better than him as a Mate, and one day Peter will understand. It’s Better This Way. But is it really?(Peter is Andrew Garfield)

Use Me Peter wants to help Wade. Wants to make him feel beautiful, wants to make him feel wanted... Wants to put out the fire in his own gut whenever he sees the merc for what he really is. He does.

Double Mint Gum Wade decides that only one of his fine-ass self just isn't enough 

Spider Spidey (SPIDERY SPIDEY!)

Bleed the Water Red Peter and Deadpool are held captive by a super-villain that has an inclination for torture. After she boasts her untarnished record at never having hurt a child or teenager, Peter is forced to break the truth to both her and Deadpool.“Did you know I have a perfect record?” The villain collects a rusted pocket knife, tracing it up Peter’s arm, over his shoulders, down to his collarbone, as though considering where to cut. Peter focuses on controlling his breathing, fear twisting awfully in his belly. “You may look down on me, Mr. Spider-Man, but for all the righteous suffering I inflict, I’ve never hurt a child. Not once.”“Y'know, I don’t think you do,” Peter blurts. At his words, Deadpool's stare intensifies. “Have a perfect, non-child harming record, that is.”

Don’t Keep Me Waiting Peter's 90% sure Wade likes him. Or at least he was sure. When you almost jerk off in front of the friend you're definitely not pathetically pining for and they never mention it again, it makes you doubt yourself. Peter knows he should probably just ask what the fuck is going on, but where's the angsty fun in that?

Sometimes When We Touch Peter answers a Craigslist ad for someone who is willing to pay for some unspecified physical contact/sex because he's just that broke. He's surprised to find out Wade Wilson is the one who posted the ad, but thinks he can still manage just fine even when the man explains he'd like him to wear a special costume for the occasion. Of course things become a little more complicated when Wade reveals the outfit he's chosen: a shockingly accurate Spider-Man suit

Sunflower 26 and standing at the head of Parker Industries, Peter feels young in every way. He doesn't know himself, he lacks a lot of experience, and he's struggling to get a grip on what he thinks of the merc with the mouth, an absolute force who has starting pushing his desires in a direction that terrifies him.He desperately tries to come to terms with sexuality, even when it means dragging Wade flat on his face.Takes place after the dance scene in Spider-man/Deadpool, with important plot details omitted. Follows these two through extreme character growth.

Two Thirds of a Whole (I honestly felt weird about this one, but eh, maybe someone who’s into it would appreciate it) Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, finding Vanessa dead and having never met, assume the second body is their other soulmate. When they meet in a market ten years later, they both have a chance they never thought they would get again-- a chance at love.But can they find a way to be happy as two thirds of a whole?

Holding Back The thing about not being able to die is that it makes everything so dreadfully boring. Seriously, immortality's a bitch. So, you gotta keep things interesting. How else are you supposed to get through the day without going insane? Well, more insane.Wade wants to be a hero, but fighting bad guys isn't enough to keep things interesting. Wooing Spider-Man might help, though. And exploring his kinks definitely will. Of course, he never thought anything would come of either of these things. Boy, was he wrong!

Missed You  (Imagine me covering me shyly covering my face for this ehehe) “Wade,” Peter whines, pulling off Wade’s mask and catching his lips in a deep kiss. All he can smell is leather and sweat and gunpowder, and he’s already embarrassingly hard. Wade comes home from a mission. Peter missed him. A lot.

Big Peter can't stop looking at and thinking about Wade's great big arms and shoulders and hands and back. He's fine. (He's not fine.) 

 Slip of the Tongue Sometimes Peter can forget how big Wade is, how much presence he has. Right now is not the time. His heart rabbits in his chest as he swallows, looking up. There’s always something there when Wade’s looking at him, something predatory, that makes Peter nervous and wanting, shivering hot all over.

Wade The Cat  “Aw don’t be afraid little buddy, it’s okay, he’s gone”Wade almost cringes at how someone is talking to him, what the hell?! He’s not a defenseless animal. Wait. No, yeah, he is.Wade looks a little alarmed, stepping back as the man crouches next to him, smiling sympathetically “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. You okay?”Wade holds his breath, gives an once over at the guy, beautiful chestnut eyes, the adorable smile, the red face probably resulting from the cold and the brown humid hair stuck to his forehead as he holds his umbrella for both of them and yep, ladies and gentlemen if he wasn’t before, Wade is right now a defenseless animal because “Meow” Wade says wiggling what should be eyebrows “Honey, I’d let you take care of me all night long” Wade purrs.

Gonzo Journalist (It belongs to a series “We fell in love in October) A young photographer working for The Daily Bugle hears about the tragic fate of an ex-soldier and decides to write an article about his cause to help him out. Maybe more than in one way.

The Man in the Mask When Wade is unceremoniously dropped off into the custody of one Dr. Parker, he assumes the man has only the worst possible intentions for one of the world's last remaining mutants. But it turns out, the universe still holds plenty of surprises for them both.

You Wear My Name Over Your Heart Like It’s Invisible "Why don’t you ever let me see it? If you have the name already, why can’t you tell me whose it is? I thought we were best friends."Everyone gets their Name when they turn twenty-one. It isn’t their own name either. It’s the name of their Soulmate. When Wade Wilson wakes on his twenty-first birthday, he looks down at his chest and sees Peter Benjamin Parker. He stares for a moment then shrugs, gets dressed, and doesn’t think about it for another six weeks.

Parachute, Please Peter unexpectedly goes into heat after an Avengers mission, which could have been fine, but the ride back is 2 hours and he's stuck on a plane with his closest friends and family.At least there's one person he can call at times like these for relief. And in comes Wade.

Peter Parker’s Home for the Wayward Villain A really long redemption story.

And Words Are Futile Devices Peter doesn’t think he’s lonely. He’s too busy to be lonely. He’s twenty-two, working on his PhD and holding down a shitty job at the Daily Bugle, not to mention his nightly extra-curricular activities. He’s too busy for friends, and he’s certainly too busy for romantic interests. And yet, shockingly, apparently everyone in his life thinks he needs to stop being an anti-social recluse and get laid.So Peter enters the wide, wonderful world of online dating. He doesn’t expect to find his soul mate, or even a friend, and he’s definitely not looking for hook ups. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, really, until one Wade W. Wilson catches his eye and captures his heart with risqué dog pics and a concerning obsession with cannibalistic serial killers.This is a love story. A sweet, inevitable journey towards each other. There is humor, and melancholy, and a touch of both gravitas and levity to the weeks that trickle by. But really it’s just an account of the slow, magnetic movement of Peter towards Wade, and Wade towards Peter.

Strays Wade finds Spider-Man unconscious on a roof top. Score!Or: Spider-Man has lost his memories, some of his vocabulary, and all of his social conditioning. Wade is losing his mind.

The Inverse Deadpool doesn't have to try very hard to hide his second gender anymore because ever since Weapon X, no one in their right mind would ever believe that Wade Wilson was an omega. It doesn't matter anyway, because Wade knows no Alpha would keep a male omega. No alpha WANTS one, much less one that's as scarred and unstable as he is. Apparently, Spiderman was born to break every rule Wade has ever known.

The Body Remembers When the Mind Forgets When people need a mate in their life, it isn't usually because they've forgotten they already have one. 

Half Your Age (Plus Seven) In which Deadpool has oddly specific and frustrating morals, Spider-Man has excellent friends, his lab partner has an opening for a bassist, Johnny Storm has the warmest feet, and everyone has had enough of hearing Peter talk about Wade Wilson (except Aunt May: she’s always glad to hear he’s back in town).

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

Writing Prompt (ignore me if you got this one already): Maddie giving Sonic a bath?

Another Maddie and Sonic prompt! I always love writing these two. I’ve seen a few stories similar to this one, but I’ll take a shot at it.

“Sonic?”

Maddie walked slowly through the hallway of the first floor of the house, listening hard for any signs slight creaks or feet pattering.

“Sonic! You better not be tracking mud through this house mister!” She yelled throughout the house as she looked in the hallway closet.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she went back down to the first floor only to stop on seeing a small clumps of dried mud on one the steps.

‘Oh great, I just mopped this floor yesterday.’ She rubbed her face as she continued down the stairs.

She whipped her head towards the sound of the front door opening, hearing Tom’s voice entering the room.

“Hello? I’m home!”

“Hey babe, I’m over here.” She called out tiredly.

He paused as he hung up his coat, hearing the weariness in his wife’s voice. “You alright?”

“Yeah everything’s good.” He stared at Maddie for a few seconds before he took off his hat and made his over towards her, hugging her.

“Hmm you sure? You sound like you ran a marathon without having the insane smell of rancid body odor.”

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder as they released from the hug. "It kinda feels like that now, I'm trying to look for you-know-who."

He gave her a questionable look. "Is it Ozzie? Cause I think he's out in the backyard."

"Not him, Sonic."

"Uh-oh, what'd he do this time?"

"You'll see why once you see how Ozzie looks." She moves slightly, motioning him towards the back door.

Tom walks hesitantly towards the window of the door and looks out. "Oh dear god in heaven."

The bottom half of the retriever’s body was covered in mud, which has since completely dried up. He started wagging his tail fiercely as he saw his owner through the window and jumped against the door.

"No jumping Ozzie, get down." The dog obeyed and walked away as Tom made his way back towards his wife.

"Who's that chocolate lab in the backyard?"

"Oh very funny."

"What on earth were they up to out there?"

She let out a breath as she shook her head. "I honestly don't know, apparently he thought it was a good idea to hook the hose up to the sprinkler since it was getting pretty warm out, but Ozzie followed him out, grabbed the hose from him and the rest is history."

He whistled while looking down, slightly chuckling from the described events. "Well that explains everything, so where is the main suspect?"

"That's exactly why I sound like I run a marathon, I found him completely covered in mud trying to wrestle the hose from Ozzie's mouth. Once I told him he needed a bath, he took off like a cat with it's hide on fire and I’ve been looking for him ever since."

Maddie crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter. "I think he's still somewhere in the house, I don't know where he would go if he was still filthy."

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I mean he was pretty filthy before he came to live with us, heck he barely wears any clothes."

"Oh my, That's....not the point I'm trying to make Tom. I just don't want him and Ozzie tracking mud throughout the house."

"Well then I guess Oz needs to stay outside and have his bath out there. I call dibs on that job."

"Wait, why are you calling ‘dibs’ on that one?”

“I think it’s fair since I wasn’t here to witness the events, I get to choose which one to take care of.”

“That’s not even close to being fair!”

“It is for me.” He ducked his head she swiped her hand at his shoulder.

“Tom! I’m being serious!”

“Yeah me too, last time I tried to give him a bath, I couldn't find him for almost two hours.”

"Oh great, could you at least help me find him? I don't want to keep looking that long."

He placed his chin in his hand and gave him a questioning look. "Hmmm I don't know, I'm putting my life on the line here for you.

Maddie grabbed his tie and tugged it, pulling him closer to her. "How about if you help me with this and you might get a certain reward once the task is done?" She whispers seductively as she lowers her eyes.

Tom blushes slightly as he tilts his head in interest. "Are we both thinking of the same reward here or is it something that could be food related?"

"Well there could be some food involved if you help me out." She gave him a wink as she walked away.

"Oh hell yeah this is so happening." He rushed after her as he loosened his tie from his neck.

=======

'What the heck were they talking about? What's so important about eating food in the tub?'

Sonic listened from the very cramped kitchen cupboard as he heard the couple walk away, moving slightly to regain feeling in his legs that fell asleep.

As he moved, his elbow hit against a pot making a loud clanging noise. He winced as he kept still and listened for any incoming sounds.

After a few minutes, he heard the faucet turn on in the bathroom upstairs. "Oh geez, she's really serious this time." He whispered to himself as he slowly pushed the door open and crawled out on his hands and knees as he looked around the kitchen.

"I can’t believe she’s still looking for me. Usually Tom would just give up at this point." He mutters as he walks over to a nearby mirror.

His azul blue fur was almost completely covered in a dark brown color, splotches of mud were splattered all over his face and torso and his red sneakers looked more like short, brown boots.

'Oh man, that hose really did a number on me.' He winced as he tried to pick at the dry mud stuck in his arm fur. "Oh great not only is it not coming off, it's starting to itch." He growled as he started to scratch his face.

He tiptoed out of the kitchen and in front of the staircase, listening to the cabinets being opened and closed. ‘I know I heard Tom's voice out here, I wonder where he went? Maybe he's with Ozzie outside, he was pretty filthy out there...well no thanks to-.' He pauses as he hears the bathroom door open and sees the light pour into the hallway.

He quickly ducks as he goes to hide behind the wall, peeking his eyes around the corner and watching Maddie’s shadow on the wall.

“You going somewhere?”

He lets out a little gasp as he slowly turns his head and sees Tom standing right behind him, looking down at him while his hands on his hips and a amused look on his face.

“Uh.....no?” He said sheepishly as he stood up straight and faced him.

“Hmm, if that’s the case then why are you hiding from Maddie after she said you needed to take a bath?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I....just...don’t feel like taking one?”

Tom gave an unamused look before lowered himself onto one knee. “Listen bud, I’ve been in the same boat before when I was younger.”

“Rolling in mud?”

“Uh no, not wanting to take baths.”

“Oh”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to take one since I still felt ‘clean’ even after a few weeks of not bathing, but my parents were starting to notice that I hadn’t been smelling clean as usual and it got to the point where they stood outside the bathroom door and would checked if I washed throughly.”

The teen’s eyes widened in shock as he listened to the story. ‘I don’t even want to know where they checked’.

“But it’s also important that you do bathe on average, do you realize how many germs you have on your body right now from all that mud?”

He rubbed his fingers against his palms as he thought about that last statement. ‘I mean, he kinda has a point with the whole germs thing, but how much on average does he mean?’

Meanwhile, Tom continued to wait for the hedgehog to give him a answer, only to not receive one seeing that he still thinking about it. Knowing he wasn’t going to get one soon, he simply grabbed Sonic around his torso and stood up, holding him away at arms length.

Alarmed by the sudden motion, he grabbed onto Tom’s arms and looked at him, confused. “What? Wait where we going?”

“Where do you think?” He said with an exasperated tone as he made his way up the steps.

Alarm bells went off in his head as he tried to pry the hands holding him loose, kicking his legs in the process. “Wait! I haven’t made up my mind yet!”

“Well I’m making it for you, you were thinking about that way too long.” He held him farther away from him to avoid being kicked by the flailing feet.

“But you never gave me a chance to say my part on this!” He voice rose in pitch as he continued to struggle his way out of the firm grip.

Stopping at the top of the steps, Tom held Sonic closer so he had direct eye contact. “So what’s your say on it then?” He replies nonchalantly with a blank face.

‘Oh he is not buying this.’ He dropped his arms as his eyes darted around the room. “That I....am.......not...umm...going to-.” He stopped abruptly as Tom continued towards the bathroom.

“Tom! Stop! You’re violating my rights of free speech!”

He let out a laugh as he made his way to the door leading to the bathroom. “Violating- it’s a bath, it’s not your voting rights.”

“It’s still my rights!” He yelled as grabbed onto the doorframe, holding onto it tightly. Tom sighed heavily as he stopped and continued to hold him.

“Sonic, let go.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Come on, just let go.”

“No!” He continued to hold on as he felt Tom trying to pull him away from the frame.

Maddie sat on the edge of the tub as she watched the two of them, she let out a small laugh as she turned off the faucet and continued to watch the current predicament.

Tom struggled to pry the hedgehog off the door frame as he tried move his arms to avoid be kicked. He glances back to see his wife, looking at him with a wide smile on her face.

“I could use some help over here.”

“Oh but it looks like you’re doing a great job with this.” She said with fake sweetness in her voice. He glared back at her before turning back towards the stubborn hedgehog.

“Ok I’m giving you one last chance to let go NOW.”

He lets out a ‘hmm-mmm’ noise as he continues to hang on.

“Alright, time to bring out the big guns.” He adjusts Sonic’s body to one arm and uses the other hand to tickle his side and under his arm.

Sonic lets out a high pitched laugh as he kicked his legs and lowered one arm to grab Tom’s hand, loosening his grip.

As soon as he lowered his arm, Tom gave one final tug and wrapped his arms around him, pinning him to his chest. “Gotcha!” He hissed as he felt Sonic’s head quills poke into his chest as he wiggled to get out the unwanted bear hug.

“That wasn’t fair! You can’t use someone’s weakness like that!”

"You should've let go when you had the chance, It’s not my fault that you’re ticklish there.” He walked closer to Maddie, who stood up and held her arms out.

He passed Sonic over to her, who has since given up on trying to get away and limply dangled as he was placed in her arms. “Your package was delivered as promised ma’am. I’m hoping there will be a tip involved?” He bowed as he put on a fake cockney accent and looked up at her expectantly.

She giggled as she adjusts her hold on the grumpy teen. “Oh you’ll definitely get more than a tip when we’re done with this.”

He gave a self victory pose as he quickly brushes off the dried mud off his uniform. “Yes! Love you honey!” He gives her a quick peck on the cheek as he rushes out the bathroom door and closes it behind him.

Sonic gave Maddie a look of confusion as he placed him down on the toilet cover and helped take off his shoes while he took off his gloves. “So, what do you guys even do in the bath with food anyway?”

He saw her eyes widen slightly before her face became neutral. “I'll tell you when you’re older.” She said in a serious tone.

“Uh, ok then?”

=======

“Alright, go on in.” She ushered Sonic into the bath as she got out bottles of body wash and shampoo.

“Ok.” He goes to put his foot in the tub, only to lift it out and face her. “Maddie, I can take the bath by myself.”

She raises her eyebrow at him. “Yes normally I would but since you kept trying to hide from me earlier, I feel it be best if I helped you this time. To make sure you completely clean.”

‘I had a feeling she wouldn’t leave me be after all that. Worth a shot I guess.’ He sighs in defeat and quickly placed his foot in the tub, only to feel his foot slip against the smooth floor and fall in head first with a splash. Maddie gasped as he leaned over the side, coughing slightly.

She pats his back lightly as he continued to cough. “Oh my gosh, you alright?”

He coughed once more before nodding. “Yeah, ugh some of it got up my nose.”

“Did you bump your head?”

“Uh no, I don’t think so.”

Giving a sigh of relief, She got on her knees as she poured some shampoo on a washcloth. “Well at least it’ll be easier to scrub all that mud off now.”

She started to scrub his head with the cloth as he splashed water on his arms. “Goodness, do you realize how much grass and twigs are in your quills?”

“Hmm no, I was too busy try not to drown via water hose from a golden retriever mastermind.”

“Oh, well you really have quite a bit just just nesting in there, there’s enough to build a bird’s nest in there.”

“What? I was just in the grass, how’d I get that much?”

“I have no idea sweetie, that’s exactly the reason why you needed a bath. You would have tracked all this stuff into your bed and heaven forbid if you had any insects on you.”

He freezes up and cringes at the thought of those creepy crawlers in his room, let alone his bed. “Oh god.”

“Exactly.” She removes the last of the debris and rinses some water on his head. She pours more shampoo in her hands and starts to scrub behind his ears.

Pausing from scrubbing his feet, he lets out a soft purring noise as he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. He starts to smile as she also scrubs underneath his chin.

‘Oh my god he’s like a little kitten.’ She bites back a laugh as she continued to wash around his face.

After making sure no more dirt was on him, she rinsed him off with the showerhead, got up and grabbed a towel while Sonic unplugged the drain. "How do you feel now after getting rid of all that mud?"

"A little cold, but refreshed! I kinda smell like apples or something."

"Green apple, it's a good scent to have after a nice bath." She held up the towel in front him as he got out and wrapped it around him, the towel being so big it managed to cover his whole body, including his head and eyes.

He lifts part of the towel off his face as she helps him dry off. "Hey Maddie?"

"Yes?"

She continues to dry off his head until she notices his hands were starting to wring together, making her stop and remove the towel from his eyes, looking fully at him.

"I...*sigh* I'm sorry I gave you a hard time earlier about...all of this. I'm sorry for being stubborn and not listening to you and...wait that's the same thing. What I mean to say is that I'm sorry-oh geez I already said that..um I just wanted to say-." He felt a hand gently lift his head up and saw Maddie smiling at him.

"Apology accepted, your just lucky you're too darn cute for me to be mad at you." She teased as she nuzzled his nose with his.

He lets out a giggle, blushing as she pulled away and helped dry off his arms. "I'm not that cute. I'm probably handsome than most kids, but not cute."

She stops and looks up at the ceiling as she ponders for a second. "Hmm you know what? You're right, you're not cute at all."

Taken aback, he looks up at her shocked at the blunt response. "Wh-what?"

"Nope, not even close."

'Why'd she say it like that?' He blinks as he feels a pout forming on his face.

"You...are....adorable!" She ends the statement by grabbing the unsuspecting teen and hugging him tightly with the towel protecting her from being poked by the quills, earning a grunt of surprise and discomfort from him.

"Ack! Maddie! Your hugging me too tight! I can't breathe!" He cries out as he tries to get out of the death hug.

"How are you talking if you can't breathe right now?" She starts to loosen the hug but still holding him.

He gets his arms free and pushes his hands against her shoulders, trying to make space. "I......don't know?" He makes a confused face as she starts to laugh as she hugs him tight again. "Aww even your confusion is adorable."

"Ow! Maddie! What is with everyone and wanting to hug me so much today?" She pulled back again, looking at him with mock serious expression.

"You can never have too many hugs in one day young man, well that and also one other thing." Before he could ask, she started to pepper small kisses all over his face and forehead.

He squinted his eyes shut as he moved his head from side to side, trying not to smile at the sudden affection.

"I saw that."

His ear twitches at her voice and peeks an eye at her. "Saw what?"

"Don't think I can't see you trying not to smile." She smirked playfully at him while poking his nose. "You don't want to admit it, but you know that you're adorable too."

"No I'm not! Your kisses just feel really weird on my face."

"They feel weird?"

"Yeah...they just do."

"But you were trying not to smile though, that must mean that you actually liked them?"

"Nope! I don't think that at all." He shut his eyes and turned his head away from her dramatically, crossing his arms.

"Oh, well I can think of one more thing that proves that you are completely adorable."

"What?" He says in a whining manner as he braces for her answer.

"Your laugh." She then starts to blow raspberries on his cheeks.

"Mahha-ddie! Stohop!" He struggled to keep a straight face as he let out a few giggles.

"Oh but you're smiling and laughing now, that's usually a sign if you really happy about something."

"Nohoho ihiht doesn't!" He places his hands on her face to push her away and pants as he grins victoriously at her. "Ha! Now you can't give me anymore kisses!"

She jerks her head away from his hands and narrows her eyes at him, who is still has his arms out. "Oh you think you're safe from that?"

His face drops as she quickly digs her fingers in his armpits and lets out a high shriek. "GAH! AHAHAH! MAHADIE NOHOHO!"

"What was that? I can't hear you, you're laughing way too much." She adjusts herself and sits on the floor crisscross, still tickling the squirming hedgehog.

"DOHOHNT TIHICKLE ME!"

"Really? Ok then I guess I'll go back to this then." She proceeded to blow raspberries in his neck while still wiggling her fingers under his arms.

"HAHAHA! NOHOHO! STOP IT! MOM STOP!"

Maddie halts her fingers and freezes as she hears Sonic, still laughing and panting as he sat in her lap. 'Did he just...?'

"Sonic?" He looks up at her, still giggling softly. "Did...you just call me mom?"

His breathing hitches as she sees his eyes widen and looks forward, away from her gaze. "I...uh...I don't know, I might have said it....I'm sorry." His voice lowers to a whisper as he looks down at his hands. 'Oh no, is she mad that I called her that? I didn't mean to, it just came out that way! Oh man this is so awkward-. '

He flinches as he feels her arms wrap around him again, this time softly. "It's ok sweetheart, you can call me mom if that's what you feel comfortable with. I'm not mad, just took me by surprise that's all."

Feeling the tension lift off his shoulders, he wrapped his arms over hers and they continued to sit together the bathroom floor.

"Wait, does this mean I have to call Tom 'dad' now?"

He hears her laugh as she releases him from the embrace. "Well, you don't have to, it's completely up to you. Besides it might make him feel more old if you do."

"Hmm, I'll think about it then." He jumps slightly at the sound of Ozzie's barking and Tom shouting coming from downstairs.

"Oh dear, we better go see if he needs help."

He wraps his arms around her neck as she got up. "Knowing him, he probably does."

She shakes head as she gives him a final kiss on the forehead, putting the towel in the clothes bin and carrying him out of the bathroom.

As she walked down the stairs, she could hear scuffling coming from the living room and turned the corner to see Tom trying to dry off/wrestle Ozzie on the floor.

"Uh Tom? You need any help?" He glanced up to see the two of the looking amused at him.

"Heh, no I'm doing great with this big guy. He just needs to keep still for more than 10 seconds!" He said, falling on his stomach as Ozzie ran away and started to roll over all over the carpet.

Maddie makes an exaggerated face at Sonic, who muffles a laugh behind his hand. She places him on the floor as she makes her way over to Tom. "Well, I completed my task, but it seems like you still having trouble with yours."

Tom brushes off his partially wet shirt as he gets up. "Yeah, luckily this wasn't a contest, though I did hear a lot of laughter up there. What were you guys talking about?"

Maddie zips her lips closed as she glances over at Sonic on the couch, who mimics her as he crosses his legs on the seat, smiling widely at her. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I hope you guys aren't thinking about keeping secrets from me." He places an arm around her shoulders as she looks up at him.

"Either you can know what we were talking about or you don't get your reward tonight." She replies firmly, crossing her arms.

His head jerked as she finished, seeing her expression and backs down, raising his arms up in surrender. "Alright, alright you win this round."

"You bet I do." She kisses him firmly on the lips as she walks away. Tom sighs contentedly as she walks away, with Sonic clearing his throat getting his attention.

"Sooo I'm still confused on what eating food in the bath means. Is it something just adults are allowed to do?"

Tom blinks at him before walking over and clasping a hand on his shoulder. "You'll understand once you get married, get a job and have less time to enjoy certain things." He struts away while clapping his hands and bolting up the stairs.

The hedgehog furrows his brows as Ozzie comes over to him, still panting from rolling around and places a hand on the dog's head.

"Oz, I feel like being an adult is going to be a really weird experience."

[solar3lunar]

2.᯾𝔼𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝔼𝕩𝕒𝕞᯾

Ayama POV

I heard my alarm going off. "Welp today the day. I better get ready." I touch my head to take my bonnet off. But it wasn't there. "You what. I might as well look in the closet. Because it not going to be on my bed."

Well at least I have silk pillows cases. I'll look for it later. I go to my closest to get out my old dress. Then went to the bathroom.

After 5 minutes I put my uniform and went back to my room I got all of my things and put them inside my bag.

I then walked downstairs and went towards the kitchen. I was just going to pour me some cereal. But I saw pancakes on the table.

I walk closer to see they were homemade fluffy cat shape pancakes. There was a note beside it.

"Do your best Lyric."

-Love, Dad

"Thanks dad." I can't help but smile at the note. After a few minutes of eating. I clean my plate and cup. And went to put my shoes on.

"Meow." I look back and saw Leo. "You have crumbs on your face." I giggled as I brush them off. "You two be good alright?" I asked. He nods. "Okay, I'll see you later."

I headed out the house. Locking the door from behind. I was only 6:25 when I left the house and the exam at the hero academy didn't start until 7:15. I really wish I some music on me. Oh well. I would only take me 5 minutes to get there getting on the train today.

I saw Izuku getting on the train before me. I would've spoken to him but he seems out of it and look deep in thoughts. I just stood close to him about 4 feet away. The digital clock on the bus said it was 6:30.

He got off before me. I got held back by the crowd making me 10 feet away from him. "Jeez." I finally got to the school building. "Stupid Deku." That voice.

"Kaachan." 'I haven't heard that name in a while.' "Get out of my way, now, before I set you on fire." Bakugou spoke angrily. He hasn't changed one bit. Then Midoriya started to freak out a bit. I wait until Katsuki was about 6 feet away from him. Although, I notice that his voice got deeper. Just sayin'

"Midoriya! Wait!" I shouted he turned his back around to me. I finally caught up to him while some people were waiting outside.

"Oh hey Ayama." He waved at me. "Oh you change your hair?" He asked. "Well kinda. You see my hair can change it curl pattern whenever I wash it. And I forgot to put on a shower cap this morning when I took a shower." I sighed.

"The style really looks good on you!" He said blushing a bit. I ignore the blush not knowing what he's blushing for or at. But he looks cute.

"So have you got it yet?" I whisper. "Yeah he said it going to hurt though. I had to eat his hair, before leaving to get here. I've may have eaten but I don't feel any stronger." He said while sulking. I just pat him on the back.

"I'm sure it'll sink in" I reassured him. "Right. But, bring it all you got, Ayama!" He said. "You too, Deku!" I said giggling a bit. He so cute.

"Hey! Are you guys ready for the exams?" A girl ask us. We turned around. Izuku went full on pink. She was about 5'1 I think. "Of course. Right Izuku! Izuku?" I asked him. He started to stutter a lot.

"Oh, y-yeah." He was a mess. I wonder if I would see Momo here. I went to middle school with her. She was my only friend there to be honest.

"Call me Uraraka." She spoke holding her hand out. I shook it. "Nice to meet you Uraraka-san. I'm Ayama." I said. "What your last name?" She asked. "Umm. I rather not say." I told her. " Oh and this is Midoriya." Introduce her to him.

"Nice to meet you." She said nicely. She was so cheerful. "Y-yo-you t-to!" He shouted. "We better get inside now. Don't want to get lock out." Uraraka said. "Oh your right it's 6:55." I said. "Oh and Midoriya you got this. You as well, Uraraka." I said. "Right let's do our best." She said as Midoriya nodded.

She goes ahead of us as I had to help Midoriya to get it together which took a minute. Once we got in we had to put our things in the open lockers. Their was security so nobody had to worry about getting there's things stolen.

Everyone was assigned seating. I was sitting way far from the others. I was on the 5th row to the front. Lord know how far from Izuku or Katsuki. I was sitting next to Momo. Turns out she was wondering if I was going to be here as well.

God this is going to be embarrassing. If I just look at my paper. Maybe I won't have to see my uncle.

Bakugo, Katsuki POV

"Midoriya wait!" A voice call out. Who would want a loser to wait for them. I didn't even turn around, because whoever called his name is probably also a loser or nerd.

"Oh hey Ayama." Deku said. Wait what. I turned my head around. The last time I saw Ayama her hair was down into a ponytail. This girl hair was very very curly, but I knew Ayama could do that as well. I couldn't tell what her skin look like because I only saw a glimpse of it. But even that was too damn fast.

I couldn't see what's the girl looked like so I just kept walking. I didn't think Ayama would be here. Whatever it's not like she'll beat me anyways. Wether she's here or not.

Midoriya, Izuku POV

"What's up, UA candidates? Thanks for tunin' in to me, your school DJ. Come on and let me hear ya!" Present Mic shouted. It was silence when he asked, but I was fan boying over it.

"Keeping it Mello huh. That's fine I'll skip straight to the main show. Let's talk about how this practical exam is gonna go down, okay?" He said.

"Are you ready? Yeah!" He shouted. Still silence

"Oh my goodness, it's the Voice Hero, Present Mic. So cool!" I said whispering. "I listen to his radio show every day of the week. It's so crazy nuts that all the UA teachers are pro heroes-" " Will you shut up." He said.

"Like your application said, Today you rockin' boys and girls will be out there conducting ten-minute mock battles in super-hip urban settings." Present Mic continue.

"Gird your lion, my friends. After I drop the mic here you'll head to your specific battle center, sound good?" He asked still silence. As everyone was looking at there card.

"Okay?" He shouted. "I see. Their splitting us up so we can't work with any of our friends." Kaachan spoke. I jumped a little terrified. "Yeah you're right." I said as I look at both of our card. I was put into center B while he had center A.

"Our examine numbers are one after the other, but we're assign different battle centers." I said still looking at our cards. "Get your eyes off my card." Kaachan said angrily. And I moved away a little from him a bit frightened.

"Damn. I was really looking forward to crushing you." He said as I just laughed nervously. Maybe he'll get Ayama in his battle center.

Ayama POV

"Okay, okay, let's check out your targets. There are three types of faux villains in every battle center. You'll earn points based on their level of difficulty. So better chose wisely.

Your goal in this trial is to use quirk to raise your score by shredding these faux villains like a mid-song guitar solo. But check it! Make sure your keep'n things heroic. Attacking other examine is a U.A big no-no, ya dig?"

This is too embrassing to watch, but I do hope that Izuku can get through this. He just got his quirk. And it going to bruise him. I got center B. I wonder what he and Katsuki got.

A student then spoke up about the robots. Which my uncle quickly answers that saying it was a bonus villain. Although he decided to point out Izuku who been muttering this whole time.

It kinda gets me upset, but yet again it's not like he knew why he doing it in the first place. Geeze this whole thing might as well be a video game that they put out. Big million dollars idea.

"That's all I got for you today. I'll sign off with a little present." My uncle said. "Oh God please no." I whisper knowing it would be a tough crowd. "A sample of our school motto." Then he continued on to speak as I just said the words in my head. Turns out. I don't have Momo with me, sadly.

"You ready go beyond? Let's hear a Plus Ultra!" My uncle shouted. I just put my head in my hands. "Good Luck!" He then continue to go on something about books.

We a got changed into out own gym wear. I was just wearing a black sweat shirt that was short sleeve. And long black sweat pants.

I seen Izuku was going up to Uraraka, so I decided to start going towards the robots. "Hey what's is she doing!?" I heard one student asked. "They didn't even say go yet!" Another shouted.

"She on the right track! There are no countdowns in real battle! Run run listener you're wasting air time here!" Uncle present Mic shouted. I could hear everyone running up towards me.

By that time all of the robots came towards us. I quickly use my voice to scream damaging them by a ton. That should be about 56 points. The robots got up again unsurprisingly. And the other students got a turn.

I got to see of their quirks as my uncle mic pointed out each of their quirks, but mines not that I care considering my situation.

Suddenly the whole battle center started to shake. I look towards Uraraka, Ochako she also notice it after throwing up.

"The fourth robot." I mutter. The robot made it first punch which had a incredible force. Although I kept my feets on the ground. On foot in front of the other and making an X with my arms. I was standing about 5 feet from it. "Less than two minutes!" Uncle mic shouted.

All the students started to run away. Something told me to stay put and look at my surrounding. That when I notice Uraraka was stuck. My eyes widened. Instead of running from danger I ran towards it to help Uraraka out.

"Ayama what are you doing you'll get crushed!" She told me. "I know but it worth it." I said and it confused her. I have a feeling that Izuku power would snap in any moment by now.

And I was right. I had to quickly sing something, so I did. (Ocean eyes.) Making my eyes water and form a protective barrier around u. I saw Izuku use the one for all power in his arm punching the robot away and making it fall down.

I stop singing, bringing the barrier down then look at Uraraka quickly to use her power to lift of the hard cement rock above her leg.

"Hey you okay?" I asked her she nodded. But I had to help her up. I felt really bad about Izuku. He knocked down the robot, but it was zero points.

We heard the students whisper all round. His eyes were dull in shock. I don't think he could've felt the pain in his arm. With the adrenaline running.

Recovery girl well, I call her Nana. She kissed them both healing them. Me and Uraraka look at each, both agreeing on what do to about Midoriya.

We went towards the judge's room to ask them if we could give Izuku our points, but surprisingly they said the judges already did something for him. So we left. "It's nice knowing you Uraraka." I said. "You too Ayama. Hopefully I'll see you at this school." She said.

"You too." I wave at her goodbye. I knew I was getting in regardless. I turned my phone on walking towards the train station. Once It's stop at the 3rd stop I saw Midoriya getting off. He look sad but I only smile knowing he'll get in.

I got off at my stop. Walking home I just sung a song that was in my head. I knew people could hear, but I closed them out. Although I'm careful to sing around my dad. Knowing how my mother death affect him. He said he likes to hear me sing more, but I feel like it's only going to hurt him. I notice my dad was home because of his car.

I walk in the house to have the smell cheesey spicy noodles up my nose. When it comes to food. I just know what it is. I took my shoes off. "I'm home." I said while taking my earphones out.

I saw my dad in front of me. "I would open this first." He said handing it to me. Then went to the kitchen. So much for bonding. Don't get me wrong we bond a lot, but I mostly lock myself away in my room.

I rush up to my room. Putting my bag on my bed. I put the envelope on my desk and sat down on my chair. I open it only for  a virtual screen pop up. "Hello Ayama!" It was Uncle Might."This gotta be a joke." I said in shock.

"I know you would be shock, but you see I didn't come to this cities just to fight villains, but I'm the U.A newest faulty member!" I'm not too surprised that this

"I would like to say that's you have an amazing voice and power. You know what I love to hear it again." Uncle all might spoke. Don't tell me..

"Roll it!" He shouted then move out of the way. "God, please no." I heard my voice. It's sounds wonderful and calm, but I get embarrassed of it. Once it ends I lookup again.

"Wow what a wonderful voice. You have. Now that over with let's look at your scores. "No way! I got second place!" I shouted happily. I was just happy, but I had to look again for any of my others friends.

I see Izuku got 7th place at least they gave him a chance. Ochako was in 3rd place, while Katsuki was....1st. it didn't show my last name on there. I had 58 villain points and 47 rescue points.

"We are looking forward to having you here at U.A see you there!" Then it shut off. I had taken all in. I heard a knock on my door. It then open.

"I heard good job Ayama. Your mom would be proud of you." My dad said. I went to him and hug him. I think he was a bit shock by it. "Thanks Dad." I said. "You work for it." He said kissing my head. He proceeded to hand me my uniform outfit.

{Brain and Heart~Melanie Martinez}

‘False lovin, when was illogical. Didn't know they held each other hands as they made one whole’

The same melody. "Alright dinner ready. Let's eat." He said. I nodded. While we walk down stairs look at my mother picture. I smile at it. I won't let you down. "Hey do you mind if I walk to school on the first day?" I asked.

"How come you don't wanna ride in the car with me?" He asked I was scared he would asked that. "It's just I wanna walk to school on my first day that all." I said. I just really felt like walking on the first day while singing.

"Does this have to do with your singing?" He ask. Dang. "No. I just really feel like walking to school on the first day." I said. I felt a bit of tension, but it drop as soon as he sighed.

"Fine." He sighed. "Dad you worry to much." I said as I gave him a kiss on the forehead then told him good night. He has so much concern in his eyes.

We talked about how uncle All Might going to be teaching the students and that lead to a lot of laughs. He then turn it into something serious as in what to do if someone ask for my last name. I gone through my whole life with nobody knowing what my last name is. Well except for pro heros.

I decided to turn in, because it was getting late and this is the first week of a school week. I guess you could say. I did my nightly routine. I then put my bonnet on and went straight to bed.

Ugh what a day.

Aizawa, Shota POV

She just like her mother. The only time I she her like me is when something serious or she just at home. God, what if one day she runs into Khessō.

And I know I can't keep this " Your mom died when you were born." Up forever. Eventually she'll find out. I got up from the table to walk up stairs. I stop to look at her picture that Ayama was looking at.

The last thing from I saw from Khessō was that note. 'I'm been kidnapped don't come looking for me keep Ayama safe. I love you both.' I put the picture down and turn the lights off walking up stairs. It's was when Ayame just turn a month old.

I look into my daughter room who was sleeping peacefully.  Reminds me of her mother. I know Ayama think her singing hurts me, but does the opposite.

I closed my daughter door and went towards mines. The room was clean, but missing her things. The bed was always missing a person.

Taglist: @mypimpademia

~Luna Lyric~

~Wishlist~

~Universe navi~

[ducktracy]

170. porky’s badtime story (1937)

release date: july 24th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: bob clampett

starring: mel blanc (porky, gabby, boss)

this is certainly a moment i’ve been anticipating for a very long time. this marks the official directorial debut of bob clampett, my favorite of the looney tunes directors—the freneticism and appealing looks of his cartoons speak to me the most out of all of the directors’ cartoons, so i’ve been eagerly awaiting the day that i get to dissect his cartoons!

this is one of those “history lesson” cartoons—lots to discuss beforehand. as i mentioned before, this is clampett’s first cartoon. initially, this cartoon was started by ub iwerks himself, writing the storyboards and even getting as far as the layout stage. then, one may monday morning, bob clampett walked into the studio to find the director’s chair empty. he was the director now. ub had simply vanished without a trace. chuck jones was technically the assistant director for the first number of clampett cartoons—that’s another can of worms we’ll open when we get to the second clampett entry, get rich quick porky. regardless, it was up to clampett to finish the job. mentioned before, iwerks’ (and now clampett’s) unit was a part of the ray katz unit, run by leon schlesinger’s brother in law, ray katz. it was run as a separate company, separate from the schlesinger studio, but essentially the same--carl stalling still did the music scores. the only real major difference is that it was limited to only black and white looney tunes cartoons, no merrie melodies. clampett would direct his first merrie melody, goofy groceries, a whopping 5 years later in 1941. for now, the pig was their priority. 

this wouldn’t be the only time clampett would visit the cartoon—in 1944, he would remake it as tick tock tuckered, with daffy starring in place of gabby. initially, this cartoon was going to be titled it happened all night (a take on the clark gable pre-code film it happened one night), but the implied promiscuity proved to be a bit too risqué, and thus porky’s badtime story it was. this also has the honor of being the first cartoon to have porky wearing his iconic suit and tie. much to cover!

after porky and gabby oversleep and get chewed out by their boss for showing up late to work, they both plan to get a good night’s sleep early. however, a variety of mishaps put the two in their place and then some.

the typography of the title card melts away to get a clear picture of our two stars, waking up only to ignore the cries of the alarm clock, its shrill rings juxtaposing with stalling’s calming rendition of “when my dreamboat comes home.” porky and gabby roll over and doze on--an overlay of the clock hands moving indicates the passage of time. 

now 10:00, porky is the one who wakes up first and realizes his plight. immediately he shakes gabby awake (”geh-gabby! eh-geh-eh-geh-gabby, come on! it-it-i-uh-it’s time to get up!”), prompting both of them to throw on their clothes in a daze, with gabby complaining about how it’s a “swell time to get up, in the middle of the night!” at one point, the two put on the same exact shirt, both raveling up into a ball until putting on their respective clothes independently. tick tock tuckered takes the sensible route and has this shirt being porky’s jacket, yet here, the shirt is unidentifiable--porky’s jacket and gabby’s sweater are both elsewhere. still a fun little bit of animation regardless.

in a great bit of classic clampett rubbery animation, the two rush to their garage, hopping in their jalopy. the car takes off with such frightening speed that the entire garage is turned inside out from the process. its animation is very rubbery, tactile, and loose--a delight to see. tick tock tuckered emphasizes the gag even more by filling it with a ton more details--you can compare the two here. 

as the two rush off to work, we’re treated with a lovely under-view of the car roaring by, our vision obscured by the trail of smoke left behind in its wake. the sound of the car horn blaring past (and paired with the motor of the car itself) top off the urgency of the situation nicely, as does the animation of the two crashing their car against the parked car in front of them (with an accordion sound effect to boot.) treg brown’s sound effects add an element of whimsicality to the scenes that are rather lacking in the remake--the sound effects aren’t as prevalent. then again, the ‘30′s whimsicality present in the accordion sound effect may prove to be a little anachronistic even 7 years later. 

carl stalling works wonders with his music scores all throughout the cartoon, but his genius shines especially bright when porky and gabby are dashing to meet the door of their workplace. as their run slows into a trot, which slows into a walk and finally melts into a creep, the ever-present motif of “when my dreamboat comes home” reflects their movements, melting from a hurried, brassy arrangement to a stealthy, furtive rendition. 

their place of work, of course, is “peter piper pickled peppers” (later changed to the more clever yet punny “fly-by-nite aircrafe co” in the remake.) porky shushes gabby before turning the doorknob, cautiously poking his head inside. “the ceh-eh--the coast is clear, c’mon.”

they both creep into the office, both on the lookout. things are looking bright, as it seems there are no unexpected visitors waiting to pounce. porky even voices his optimism by whispering “we’re okay if the beh-eh-beh-buh-eh-boss don’t see us come in.” fortune smiles upon the two as they approach the punch-in clock. tick tock tuckered takes the extra liberty of animating the two physically grabbing their time cards and punching them in--here, they just opt to pull the lever on the clock. 

porky goes first, moving the lever and successfully punching in quietly so as not to bring attention to themselves. gabby is next, yet unfortunately for him, the lever gets stuck. the entire scene is a great one: the animation in particular is a joy to look at as gabby even stands sideways against the wall, pushing with all of his might to get that lever to move. predictably, (foreshadowed by carl stalling’s lovely orchestral crescendos) the clock alarm blares throughout the entire office, now putting a spotlight on the duo. gabby’s take from the initial scare of the alarm is wonderful, as is going the extra mile to animate him shushing the clock. i wonder if chuck jones is behind this scene?

after a closeup of our protagonists hunkered over in dreadful anticipation, we pan out to see their boss looming over them with a complacent grin on his face. “well, well.” he chuckles as porky and gabby exchange terrified glances. “if it isn’t the rover boys! and only two hours late, too. aw, it’s a shame you boys had to come to work today. why, i would have been glad to bring your work out to you.” the intimidation from the boss radiates off the screen, too. excellent posing on the boss, and wonderful bits of character animation from the boys, with porky sparing guilty grins in an attempt to make pleasantries before averting his gaze anxiously and gabby rubbing his sweater with his knuckles. of course, the boss’ peachy attitude is merely a front, and we’re welcomed with the inviting boom of the signature mel blanc yell as the boss screams “NOW GET THIS! IF YOU’RE LATE ONE MORE TIME, YOU’RE FIRED! GET TO WORK!” with that, the boys hurry off into the office, the door slamming behind them with such force that it knocks the letters printed on the glass window to the floor.

that night, our heroes are seen going to bed, porky winding up the alarm clock while gabby complains about how 8:00 is way too early to hit the hay. porky rebuts “well, you heard what the eh-beh-beh-buh-beh-boss said. if we’re eh-leh-leh-late again, we lose our j-jeh-jeh-jee-jeh-uh-jo-uh--we’ll get canned.”

thus sparks the second half of the cartoon, rife with slow burning frustration comedy. as porky attempts to get some sleep, the yowls of an alley cat cause him to crack an eye open. he disregards the pesky feline, rolling over... until an all out cat fight ensues. carl stalling’s perky music score is a delight, as is the animation of an angry porky trekking over to his window, shoe in hand. 

porky tosses the shoe out the window, and the cries of the cats subdue. satisfied, porky marches away from the window, patting off his hands after a job well done. “well, that’s that.” he’s rewarded for his complacency by getting a shoe hurled straight back at him. porky’s take as he ogles out the window combined with treg brown’s sound effects (and great comedic timing on clampett’s part) make for a lovely combination--especially intriguing is the animation of porky whipping his head around with some psuedo-smears (really, just some hearty trail lines) to pause and look at. porky is appealing as always here.

now more frustrated then ever, porky returns to the window and hesitates before rocketing the shoe out into the great beyond. fantastic comedic timing as he immediately slams the window down in case of another boomerang effect. his plan is working, as we’re met with only the sound of stalling’s big, brassy music score... until the shoe flies in from ANOTHER open window and kicks porky right in the rear, sending him spinning and flopping to the ground. 

even more appealing drawings of porky as he throws the shoe out the window a THIRD time, ducking immediately after. this third attempt isn’t in the remake--as the coast finally, FINALLY appears to be clear, porky marches away once more with a proudly puffed out chest and satisfied grin. and, of course, another shoe in the face reminds him that karma’s a bitch. furious, porky prepares to attack, but is buried by an armada of shoes before he can react. defeated, he waves the white flag by taking cover under the covers. in all, this is a wonderful scene: porky is very appealing and cute, lots of funny expressions. the comedic timing is succinct, stalling’s score is infectiously energetic, and treg brown’s sound effects of the shoe(s) wreaking havoc are the cherry on top of a wonderfully sadistic sundae. 

another scene that was removed in the remake--porky prepares to get some sleep once more, but a pesky bee floats in through another open window and decides to give porky trouble. seeing that porky duking it out with a bee was in a previous iwerks cartoon (porky and gabby), this certainly has an iwerks feel to it--some scenes (as we’ll explore soon) definitely have more of a clampett touch to it than others. gabby, who we haven’t visited in a hot minute, complains about all of the noise his buddy is making while swatting aimlessly at the bee with a pillow. the bee lands on gabby’s head, and thus porky answers by whacking gabby over the head with the pillow, who contemptuously spits out a mouthful of feathers.

next order of business, the clouds part to reveal a full moon, underscored by a very literal (a stalling trademark) yet calming, floaty score of “by the light of the silvery moon”. as to be expected, porky is woken up by the bright light, and heads over to the window by his bed to close the blinds, effectively blocking out the moon’s rays. the scenes with the moonlight are really quite lovely--there’s a nice disparity in values, with the juxtaposition of the bright moonlight and dark bedroom. it’s very easy to forget that black and white cartoons were made with black and white paint! (ironically, i’m using a computer colorized version of the short with a black and white filter over it, but still.) against all odds, the moon sweeps over the house and changes directions, making a point to disrupt porky’s sleep. 

once more, porky engages in another battle, in that his blinds won’t stay shut. soon enough, the blinds take on sentience--porky trots back to his bed inconspicuously (in a very similar manner of him trying to fake out the pesky baby in porky’s super service), the blinds slowly rising as he takes each step forward. when porky finally whips his head around in confrontation, the binds snap shut again, complete with a rather hilariously guilty whine of an electric guitar slide to top off the gag. porky crawls into bed, where the repetitive battle resumes from there: every time he closes his eyes, the blinds open. at one point, porky opts to dive at the rising blinds, haughtily tying the string to his bed springs to keep them shut. his plan seems to work, but as soon as he gets on his bed, the entire foundation of the bed is ripped out from under him. we’re treated with an iwerks-ian “dizzy take” as porky rips through the bed and sits on the floor in a daze.

to add insult to injury, a raging storm has now cooked up. porky, now bed-less, crawls into bed with gabby, muttering “t-teh-teh-t-two o’clock. b-beh-buh-be-boy, what a night.” thus segues into a memorable gag that is definitely clampett’s doing, and likely the highlight of the short: a puddle collects on the bed on account of a leaky roof. its presence is enough to disturb gabby, who ogles at the puddle. he sees porky asleep next to him, and putting two and two together, glares at the audience with such a hilariously contemptuous expression. chuck jones is responsible for the animation in this scene--gabby’s expressions are priceless, as is the hidden dialogue and comedic timing. 

a raindrop drips on gabby’s head to assert that no, porky did not just piss the bed. that doesn’t do very much to cool off the goat’s temper--chuck’s animation is wonderfully fluid as always as gabby finally explodes, his raspy voice screeching “WHY DON’T SOMEBODY FIX THESE THINGS!? how do they expect a guy to sleep with water on the brain??” his outburst is enough to wake porky, who does a take as he spots gabby opening an umbrella. ever cautious, porky warns “hey! eh-deh-deh-don’t open an umbrella in the house, it’s eh-beh-beh-beh-bad luck!”

the slow burn timing of gabby’s anger is top notch, all the way through this scene. “aaaww, that’s a lotta baloney. you’re too supersti... eh... you’re too superst... eh... super, uh... aww, what are ya afraid of!?” porky doesn’t answer--nature does. on cue, a lightning bolt fries gabby right on the spot. WONDERFUL detail of porky, ever sadistic, laughing at gabby’s misfortune, who slaps his fried, skeletal umbrella against the blasted puddle on the bed. “EVERYTHING HAPPENS TO ME! i might as well try sleeping under niagara falls!” (interestingly, this line was changed to “egads, i must have enemies!” in tick tock tuckered.) with that, a giant plume of water soaks the both of them. great timing all around, from the slow burn of gabby’s frustration to the comically brief lightning bolt to the all-too-coincidental geyser of water.

finally, it’s morning, our heroes now seeking out dresser drawers as a replacement for a bed. it’s the same shtick as the day before, only they’ve learned their lesson: porky wakes up at the sound of the alarm clock ringing at the ripe time of 6:00. initially, he prepares to ignore it, going back to sleep... until he catches himself. he rouses gabby, and the events of the previous morning play out. despite the two not being late, they rush with the same vivacity and urgency of the morning before--same clothes sharing, same peeling out of the garage in their hot rod, same tearing down the street, same frantic run towards the office front. they skid to a halt, where they’re meeted with a surprise:

another touch of leftover iwerks taste as the boys share befuddled looks, question marks popping out of their heads. nevertheless, they don’t dwell on it for too long--the rush back into the car and zoom straight towards their house, letting the car park itself in the garage as they jump out and run back into the house.

the boys resume their post at the dresser drawers, going right back to sleep. the alarm gives a last-call ring, which porky dutifully answers by smashing the alarm clock with a mallet before heading back to sleep. iris out as we get one last look at the broken clock--compare that to the ending of tick tock tuckered.

and thus wraps up the first cartoon directed by bob clampett! for the longest time, i always preferred tick tock tuckered to this one--my daffy favoritism comes in strong and there are just some elements i liked about it more (such as rod scribner’s scene of daffy shooting the moon), but picking apart this one and analyzing it, i may actually prefer this cartoon. it’s a great start for clampett, especially considering the conditions he was in, becoming director rather spontaneously. it’s far from clampett’s best, but not at all his worst. there are bits of character animation that add a lovely sense of energy, liveliness, and empathy to these characters, bits of animation that are even missing in the remake. the whole “sneaking into work and getting chewed out by the boss” scene has some exceptional character acting, and i mourn the loss of the many shoes being thrown at porky in the remake. for its time, this is a very lively, very fun cartoon. stalling’s music score is phenomenal as always, porky and gabby look extremely appealing, and the piss the bed gag is a great introduction to the warped world of bob clampett and his body-humor gags. in all, i would recommend this cartoon! it’s endearing and makes for a good watch, especially comparing and contrasting with previous porky entries. go check it out!

link!

[artificialqueens]

i do like you. [Gigi/Nicky + Jan/Jackie] - pinkgrapefruit

A/N - I wanted to try and figure out these characters and I thought this was the best forward! let me know what you think! betad by the wonderful frey <3

*

And I don’t like it when you’re never home

And I don’t like it when I’m sleeping alone

And I pick up the phone just to call you again

You never say never but you never say when

Gigi tosses and turns in the double bed that feels so empty, now that she’s its only inhabitant. New York City sunrise is filtering through the blinds in thick, warm stripes, making it harder and harder to forget that she is alone. She rolls onto her back, smoothing the covers on her body where they have become ruched during the night, and stares at the crack in the ceiling, reminiscing about the time Nicky tried to replace the light fitting, but ended up creating web-like fractures in the paintwork. She allows herself to exhale a chuckle at the memory of her normally poised girlfriend covered in plaster dust, waving a screwdriver.

Gigi flops onto her front so she can scroll through her messages, finds the good morning text Nicky sent when she woke up four hours ago, and fires back a response. Makes it sweet, but not saccharine, wanting, but not needy. She toes the line of ‘I love you’ without being overbearing, because she knows how hard it is to want someone, but not be able to hold them close and breathe in honeysuckle and lavender from their hair.

It’s only seven when she drags herself out of bed, tossing the comforter in a way she hopes will make it look clean, without being bothered with the arduous task of pulling the sheets taut. Jan and Jackie’s room faces west, so there is no light seeping from under the door, so she busies herself with feeding their cat and putting last night’s dishes away. Two plates, two bowls, one mug, as she fills the other with lemon and ginger tea. By the time Jan wakes up, Nicky is on her two o’clock lunch break, and Gigi is whispering broken French down the line to try and feel connected. It’s the twentieth of March, which, by the countdown on the wall, means there are only sixty-three days until they breathe the same air again. If she catches Jan staring wistfully at it too - she doesn’t mention it.

She ends the call with a promise to call again and she knows they will try. They always try.

But I do, and I do like you

And I do, and I do like you

Nicky sets down the phone with a sigh and looks over the quad. Parsons is beautiful in Paris, but she manages to miss the feeling of New York. She’s taken the prestigious offer of a semester abroad to be able to see family and experience the culture she’d missed so very much, but looking around it all now, she feels like maybe she misjudged it. Yes, she had been missing family, but now she misses the family she created in the States. It took a year to cement her roots firmly in the US soil, to build friendships and relationships, and find a woman who melts her heart, and now she is five hours out of the loop.

She lets her chin fall onto her hand as her other fumbles to unlock her phone, firing off a text to Jackie, who she knows must be feeling it too. It will be almost six p.m. over there,  and - doing the time conversions in her head - Jan will have just woken up.

Paying quickly, she grabs her bag and starts to walk back to the apartment she is leasing. It’s strangely uncomfortable to be back in a country you left. She feels like a foreigner, even though her blood runs clearer here than it ever did in New York. She can breathe more, see the stars if she tries, but she is tied to the floor like a lead balloon.

She sends Gigi a text wishing her a good day, and then buries her phone in her bag, turning back towards the city. She needs cake.

And I don’t like it when you call me out

And I don’t like it when you’re putting me down

Just picking me up on a Saturday night

All ‘cause you had to, had to be right

Jackie responds to Nicky under the table. Her fingers deftly type out condolences and words of wisdom as the rest of her body stays focused on the meal in front of her. She’s having dinner with her host family from her high school exchange trip and she is pretending to be anyone other than herself.

They’re lovely people, they really are, but in a country as famously homophobic as Iran, nowhere is safe. So she tugs on her Hijab and goes back to eating.

By the time dinner is finished, it is almost half-past ten, and Jackie finds herself begging for one of the older sons to escort her across the suburbs of Tehran to her apartment. She arrives home face flushed and completely exhausted, thanking the son in Farsi before triple locking the door and removing the Hijab. She leans back against the wall, hand reaching into a hidden pocket to find her phone - looking forward to the way it will light up with Jan’s face when she turns it on.

She’s not disappointed as texts flood through, ranging from what she had for breakfast to the weather in New York City. It’s a huge comfort for them both to text their random thoughts. It’s a level of connectivity they didn’t think they could experience on different sides of the planet.

Jackie hums to herself quietly as she flicks through her old voice messages, finding one from their freshman year and pressing play. She listens to Jan sing through twenty minutes of the Mean Girls Soundtrack while she removes her subtle makeup and changes into a pair of men’s baseball shorts and an oversized t-shirt for sleep. When it hits half-eleven, she calls Jan, knowing that she’ll be done with classes for the day and heading to their favourite smoothie place. She falls asleep to gossip about the performance movement coach.

And I do, and I do like you

And I do, and I do like you

Jan listens to the quiet, even breaths of her girlfriend halfway across the world. She closes her eyes sometimes, when the work she’s trying to complete feels a little too arduous, and tries to imagine that Jackie is laying in bed next to her. She can roll over and see the glow of their alarm clock send shadows over the gentle curves and ridges of her face. The way her baby hairs flatten on her forehead in a way that makes her look younger than twenty-one.

She’s taken out of her daydream by a server trying to clear her smoothie away and she smiles apologetically, gathering her laptop and leaving a dollar on the table. She checks the time on her dad’s old watch between running across roads and down alleys, before finally arriving at the worn down little cabaret theatre being rented out for the latest show. It’s her first off-broadway show, and as she watches the posters go up outside - her name under the lead character - she feels a pang of longing. She wishes so deeply to not be alone in this moment - the taste bitter under her tongue, a raspberry seed stuck between her teeth.

But Jackie is not there, so she enters through the side door and gets to work, rehearsing the final scenes.

It’s eleven p.m. when she slides into bed in New York, firing off a good morning text to Jackie, as her early riser of a girlfriend sends a good night text from across the ocean. She sends a photo of herself tucked in and receives a bleary-eyed photo back of Jackie, comforter pulled up to her nose.

She can almost picture them in the same bed, and it leaves her to fall asleep with a smile on her face.

Why does the street get louder when it gets dark?

Why do I feel that sound in the pounding in the shape of my heart?

Oooh, oooh, oooh

Facetime is not a substitute for the way your hand fits in mine, Gigi thinks, as she sinks further into her couch. The calling tone burns her ears as she waits for Nicky to just pick up the phone. It’s been more and more like this - harder and harder to hold onto the notion that she’ll be home in just a few more weeks. She’s just not sure Nicky will recognise this as home when she finally returns.

Nicky picks up on what she is sure would be the last ring, and the noise sends floods of relief through the American, who tries to sit up straight. She tries to look less overjoyed to see her girlfriend’s tired eyes, feel less warmed by the quiet, but faintly affectionate tone with which she drawls the two-syllable name to make it four.

They exchange ‘I miss yous’ and hold the ‘i love yous’ on the tips of their tongues for a time when togetherness will feel more like togetherness, and less like loneliness. Then they let the silence hang.

“Do you want to come home?” Gigi asks, and maybe it’s not quite how she meant it, but the tone borders on accusatory, and she’s too tired of censorship and questions that go nowhere, but she looks into Nicky’s pixelated eyes and realises maybe she’s made a mistake.

“Why would you ask that?” Nicky replies, hurt and offended. “Why would you act like that?” She’s referring to the petulant lip, the time between texts that’s been dragging on of late, and the way she refuses to look at her, really look at her. But Gigi cannot read minds.

“Look like what?! Look like what, Nick, like I miss you? Like I really fuckin’ miss you?” If the connection was better, Nicky might have seen the tear in the corner of her eye. She might have heard her voice was cracking in a way that wasn’t static.

“I do miss you. I do want to come home,” Nicky finally responds. And she sounds defeated and tired and like the twenty-three days left are out of her control - which they are. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth, fingers finding the bottom of the Vintage t-shirt she stole from Gigi before she left.

Gigi runs her fingers through the front of her hair, letting the dark brown locks fall in front of her face in a moment of frustration.

“I don’t want to end this call angry,” she states, her tone measured and closed off.

Nicky nods. “Twenty-three days, baby.”

“Twenty-three days.”

And I don’t like it when I feel I’ve been had

And I don’t like it when I go to bed mad

Just to wake up again in the middle of the night

Why do you leave, baby, why do we fight?

“Baby!” Jan squeals across the phone as Jackie picks up with a wide smile and a melting heart.

“Baby,” Jackie repeats, mirroring the happiness in tone and the twinkle in the eyes. Jan scrunches her nose at the term of endearment and it makes Jackie chuckles with mirth. “How’s the show going?” She enquires, knowing that’s why Jan called - not that she needed a reason, but judging by the time, she’s just finished a show, and she looks like she’s glowing, so all things considered…

“I GOT SCOUTED!” Jan screams in a way that makes Jackie worry for her neighbours. She hears something hit the wall in their apartment and assumes it’s Gigi’s way of telling the blonde to please shut up. Still, she can’t stop herself from welling up with pride.

“You deserve this, love. I am so proud of you,” she gushes, one hand running over her eyes to try and stop the tears threatening to escape. Jan is openly crying on the other end of the connection, and one of them needs to stay strong. “I love you, baby.” She repeats because it’s all she can say or do to stop herself from booking an early flight home just to give her a massive hug.

“We are gonna damn celebrate when you get home,” Jan tries to assert, but she’s laughing and crying at the same time, so it’s not very effective. “Twenty-three days.”

“I’m expecting a full welcome committee,” Jackie jibes, smiling still.

“Will me and Gigi do?” Jan giggles, snot dripping from her nose as she tries to hide it from Jackie, who just lets out a quiet snort of laughter.

“That sounds perfect. Go to bed, baby. I love you and I’m proud of you.”

“Good morning Jackie, love you,” Jan says like it’s a promise.

“Good night Jan.”

But I do, and I do like you

And I do, and I do like you

Gigi’s been pacing for twenty minutes when Jan finally throws a cushion at her. She cradles her coffee while sitting on the sofa and her eyes keep flicking to the clock - watching it tick through the minutes. They have half an hour before they need to leave, but it feels like months.

“Bitch, you’re making me feel seasick,” she states, looking disapproving as the taller girl picks up a piece of toast before setting it down again. Too excited to eat.

“How are you so calm?” Gigi enquires, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion as Jan continues to sip her coffee instead of letting it go cold. Peanut - the apartment cat - is curled around her feet.

“Unlike you, I told my girlfriend I loved her a year and a bit ago, and am therefore very secure in my relationship.” She pauses, running her fingers through her hair, “I’ve not had to tiptoe around it since she’s been gone.” Gigi gulps, eyes flicking around the room. She’s well aware that’s what’s been going on  - they all are - but that doesn’t mean Jan’s bluntness didn’t hurt a little bit. Jan and Jackie got together a month before she and Nicky finally did, and they’re all approaching two years together. Gigi and Nicky are just a little bit - very - emotionally cautious.

“Fine,” she relents. “But you’re driving.” Jan laughs, dislodging herself from the cat and grabbing the keys to the rental car off the countertop.

“Sounds right.”

Why does the street get louder when it gets dark?

Why do I feel that sound in the pounding in the shape of my heart?

Oooh, oooh, oooh

Nicky’s flight comes in first and as the plane prepares to land, she shifts nervously in her seat. She’s excited, maybe a little anxious, and all of her nails on her left hand have been bitten down to stubs. She taps her right-hand nails on the arm of her seat until the businessman next to her gives her a scathing look. She knows from his interactions with the air hostesses that he’s French, so she drops a cursory ‘Pardon’ before she resumes watching New York spiral below her.

She lets her head fall back onto the headrest as the plane comes to a stop on the runway. Nicky pulls out her phone to check her long blonde hair as she pulls it out from her customary travel low ponytail. She’s dressed in a simple pair of light grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt tied at the waist, Parson’s hoodie tied around her carry-on.

Gigi had told her they’d meet her in Baggage Claim before they go to Jackie’s terminal, so she walks through the archway into the luggage carousel expectantly. Her smile soon drops, though, when she realises they aren’t there. Her hand curls into a fist, nails digging into the soft skin of her palm as her teeth worry the inside of her cheek.

She jumps at the feeling of two hands on her hips and turns with a start, before suddenly flinging herself onto Gigi’s waiting body. She lets herself relax into the hold of the taller girl, feeling more grounded than she has in months, safe and at home. Nicky doesn’t even realise she is crying until she pulls slightly out of the embrace just to map Gigi’s face. It’s only been four months, but she looks older, the bags under her eyes are a little more prominent - she has a new acne scar on her chin and a couple more freckles on the apples of her cheeks, but she looks perfect. She puts a hand on each cheek and kisses her in a way that connects them deeper than just skin. It’s full of tears and longing, but she needs it more than oxygen, and she only pulls away when she realises that last statement was undoubtedly false, taking in a deep breath while Gigi just studies her. She lets the brunette press her lips to her forehead and smiles at the thought that Gigi didn’t think she missed this.

Nicky feels Gigi’s lips move on her forehead and she doesn’t need to ask to know what it means.

“Me too,” she whispers, “I love you too.”

The spell is broken as Jan coughs behind them. She’s got one hand on Nicky’s giant suitcase and the other on her hip, as she hollers about how this is a lovely reunion, but only one of them has really tried to keep Nicky’s goddamn cat alive, and Nicky slips out of her girlfriends grasp to say a long-awaited hello to one of her best friends.

And I go away, but when I come home again

We’ll find a way to go back and rebegin

Jackie stretches her legs out in the seat, feeling one of her knees crack as she straightens it. After just over eighteen hours travelling - including two connections - she’s finally about to touch down in New York, and she’s beyond happy. The thought of standing in a busy street and just breathing in cool air makes her heart flutter. The idea of the neon lights and the smell of her favourite bodega and a blueberry muffin, god, she could swoon. And Jan.

The smell of her perfume has long since faded on the old Varsity t-shirt she stole back in January, but she can still imagine the shea and sea salt infused blend. She cannot wait to bury her face in her hair and hold her hand and sleep with their legs intertwined under the covers.

She steps off the plane with a sigh of relief, and she feels like she is home. As welcoming as Tehran was - as much as it wormed its way into her heart, New York is where she feels her soul relax.

Back way to the stars

Back into our hearts

We can win

Jackie’s barely stepped into arrivals before she’s jumped on by a short blonde woman, tears streaked down her face in seconds. Jan silently thanks the gods that she kept up her strength training in Tehran, regretful that she’d not even considered the outcome where she’d have knocked her girlfriend to the floor.

Luckily, Jackie can hold her petite love up, legs wrapped around her waist and face buried in the crook of her neck. Nicky hurries over to grab her bags and takes them back to Gigi, while Jackie just focuses on getting them both back to the relative safety of their friends, without walking into any suitcases or unsuspecting humans.

“I missed you so fucking much,” she hears Jan whisper into her neck and she smiles, twisting her head to press a chaste kiss to her hair. Jan drops her legs, sliding down til she’s standing with her arms wrapped tightly around Jackie’s waist, head pressed into her chest while the brunette burrows her face into her hair, chasing the shea and sea salt, and the smell of her grapefruit shampoo.

She looks up at the other couple briefly to wink at them, and they smile in understanding.

Why does the street get louder when it gets dark?

Why do I feel that sound in the pounding in the shape of my heart?

Nicky places her head on Gigi’s naked collarbone, fingers tracing patterns onto her sternum as they both relish in the way the room feels like a vintage polaroid. It’s warm and comfortable and so full of love it’s almost choking. The covers pool around their legs as Gigi uses one finger to lift the blonde’s chin up to meet her - lips connecting as Nicky’s back arches in the moonlight. Her hair cascades over one shoulder and Gigi’s knee rises between the other girl’s legs.

Jackie rests her cheek on Jan’s hip, smiling gently as the blonde runs her fingers through her hair. She places a soft kiss on her navel before she pulls herself up to the top of the bed, laying on her back so Jan can curl around her like a cat. “That felt like a good celebration,” Jan whispers into her favourite point on her neck, and Jackie hums in response. The moonlight falls through the window leaving a pattern of shadows on their intertwined legs.

“G’NIGHT,” Nicky yells and the entire apartment bursts into laughter.

Oooh, oooh, oooh

*

[jinmukangwrites]

Vulnerable

Batfamweek2020 Day 6 / Fluff / @official-batfam-week​

Summary: Jason finds a little intruder in one of his safe houses. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t care until he finds out he really, really cares. 

Yeah I know this is two days late. Listen, time is relative and the week isn’t over until I say it’s over. Also yes, the prompt is fluff and this seems to be mostly angst, but there’s cuddles at the end which is about as fluffy as you guys can get out of me.

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

When Jason entered his safe house, he honestly wasn’t expecting anything to be amiss or out of place, yet here he is, walking up to the run down apartment squished between some Chinese takeout shop and a weird voodoo shop just to see the front door slightly ajar.

On instant high alert, Jason grabs at the gun on his hip and considers digging out a domino mask to hide his identity. He’s in street clothes, a civilian if you will. He’s just gotten back from grocery shopping to fill up his various houses with a resupply of food storage. He’s not really in the mood to fight anyone, and for all he knows whoever is inside his safe house could just be a squatter.

Though, no typical squatter can bypass his security measures. Whoever is here is competent enough to discharge his surplus of alarms and boobytraps.

And besides, whoever went through the trouble of breaking and entering into his safe house wouldn’t be there for Red Hood. They’re here for Jason.

He slowly places his bags of canned goods and such onto the ground and pulls his gun out so it’s held out in front of him. He stalks towards the door and takes a calming breath, not wanting to think about who could possibly be in there but also thinking of the worst case scenario.

Maybe just a smart squatter. Could be the Joker. Maybe Bruce. Jason doesn’t if Bruce falls in the good or bad category, but Jason swears to god if he barges in there and it’s just that stupid bastard Jason will categorize him as the absolute worst and might just shoot the jerk-face anyway.

Jason kicks the door open hard enough to make it’s hinges squeal in protest. His gaze instantly locks on a figure sitting on his moth eaten sofa he placed in front of a display TV that he took from the local Walmart.

What? It was “broken” and they were going to throw it away even though he could easily fix it. No harm no foul.

The figure on his sofa looks up from a phone in their hands with a glare, and Jason lowers his gun with a scoff and returns the narrowed eyes with his own.

“What the heck are you doing here, tater-tot?” He demands.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, Jason leans his head forward a little to see what the brat is doing on it and it looks to be... that Animal Crossing app. Huh. “It’s none of your business, Todd.”

Jason scoffs, putting his gun back in his holster. “This is my safe house, to which the door you left open. It’s every ounce of my business.”

“Fine,” Damian snarls, standing up abruptly and shoving his phone inside his jacket pocket. “I’ll leave then.”

Jason has to fight to not make any of his utter bafflement physical as he makes a grab for the kid’s arm before he can retreat through the door. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving until I get a straight answer out of ya-“

Damian jerks his arm violently and Jason just manages to keep a grasp on him. “Unhand me, you imbecile!”

“Ah, nah,” Jason retorts, grabbing his other arm as Damian goes to throw a punch. Damian squirms and Jason fights off a sigh as he has to kneel down and hold the brat in an almost white knuckled grasp so he doesn’t escape. He really hopes no one steals his groceries while it’s just sitting out there ripe for the taking. “You broke into my house, you can leave and go throw a tantrum somewhere else after this, I could seriously care less, but if I have to tie you to a chair and play Justin Bieber until you talk I will.”

Damian shoots Jason a look of pure loathing before he glares at his shoes, no longer struggling but still looking like he’ll dart for the nearest exit the moment Jason lowers his guard. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have come here. Let me go.” A second. Then a small: “Please.”

“Okay,” Jason says, and if he didn’t have both his hands keeping Damian still, he would be rubbing the bridge of his nose. Where’s the golden boy when you need him? “Okay, something is clearly up with you. What’s up? Did Titus poo on your bed? Break an expensive pot? Accidentally kill someone-?”

“I don’t kill,” Damian snarls suddenly, and the ferocity of the statement has Jason blinking in shock. Damian is refusing to look up now, eyes blinking quicker than normal. “I don’t. Not anymore. I don’t.”

Jason narrows his eyes and gets down on his knees to become level with the little midget. “Kid. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Damian sniffs, uses his shoulders to rub at his eyes, and there’s a suspicious glint in his green irises that has Jason suddenly feel a rush of panic. Oh heck nah. This is Goldilocks’ problem. Jason should have just let the kid go. Yeah, he asked what was bothering him but the last thing he expected were tears. However, Damian looks just as shocked with himself as Jason is and quickly bites his lip.

“Can I stay the night?” Damian asks suddenly, throwing another red flag up in Jason’s mind. Whatever is going on, Damian doesn’t want to go home where his daddy-dearest and perfect oldest brother are probably waiting for him in a panic. He know’s Dickhead is in town. He posted a picture of Alfred the Cat on his Instagram just a few hours ago, saying it felt good to be home.

Jason is almost tempted to grab the brat and stuff him a duffel, lock the zippers with a cable tie and drop him at the front gates for Alfred to find, just so he doesn’t have to deal with this, but then he studies the kid for a moment, seeing a vulnerability in him that he can’t say he’s ever seen before. He sighs.

“Fine. Don’t explain. Go to the couch and play your cute game thing. I’ll be back.”

Damian gives him an unimpressed glare. “It’s not a cute game.”

“I know what Animal Crossing is, sweetie-pie,” Jason says back, ruffling the younger’s hair and biting back a chuckle that tries to escape his throat as Damian tries to whack at his hand. “It’s a cute game.”

Jason watches Damian retreat back to the sofa, but this time the brat puts in some earbuds and curls up between the arm and the back of the couch, bringing his knees to his chest and his hoodie over his head. Jason has to gather all his will power to not roll his eyes as he stands up and goes out to grab his—thankfully untouched—groceries.

He walks in and begins to take everything out of the bags. He watches Damian out of the corner of his eyes as he does so, but the brat doesn’t move. Just flicks his finger over the screen, perhaps trying to catch a fish or something. He doesn’t dwell on it though, thinking about the tears that had threatened to fall a moment ago. They could have been a trick, a way for Damian to get Jason off his back because it would undoubtedly make Jason too uncomfortable to push more, but at the same time he knows Damian is awful at fake crying. He has a lot of pride stuffed in that little body.

He shakes his head and begins to sort the cans for storage, leaving a few out for dinner he guesses. He was planning on just going to the Batburger—because the Chinese restaurant next door gave him a night in the bathroom to remember the last time he ate there—and grabbing something filled with carbs, but now that the little bat-brat is here that’s sort of thrown out the window. He’s still hungry though.

Lets see, he has a can of sloppy joe, some buns in the pantry that are hopefully not moldy yet, and some mixed vegetables. Easy.

He begins to pull out various pots and pans to begin the last second dinner. It doesn’t take long for the meat to start sizzling while the vegetables just barely begin to warm. He sets a pan lid over the meat and lets it simmer as he goes to grab the buns and some American cheese slices. He eyes Damian as he does so, noting how the kid hasn’t moved since Jason had told him he could stay.

Whatever. It’s not his problem. He’s not worried about the tyke at all...

When everything is finally heated and warm it suddenly occurs to him that Dick has mentioned here and there that Damian was actually vegetarian. Jason curses and opens the fridge, looking for anything that’s leafy and green. Thankfully, he manages to scrape together a sad amount of green lettuce and half a tomato. He sniffs a bottle of ranch and looks at it’s expiration date and wrinkles his nose. He’ll let Damian choose if he wants ranch or not. He grabs two plastic plates and places his own Joe with cheese down on one plate and scoops out a helping of corn, peas, and carrots while he makes a terribly depressed salad on the other. He sighs and adds double the helping of vegetables onto Damain’s plate. If only he had shredded cheese or croutons or even garbanzo beans...

He plops himself down next to the kid and clears his throat, placing Damian’s sad sad meal down on the coffee table with his bottle of devious ranch and then digs into his sloppy joe, grabbing a remote to turn on the TV to something probably boring and dumb.

He watches as Damian wrinkles his nose slightly at his meal, and Jason almost prepares himself to snap that he did his best, but Damian surprises him and takes the plate into his lap. He takes out his earbuds and clicks his phone off, shifting so he can see the TV better.

Thankfully Jason manages to find a channel that’s replaying Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire so the silence between the two of them isn’t as awkward as it could be. Damian picks at his browning salad and makes a move to communicate.

They watch the movie in silence, and Jason finds himself not being able to actually concentrate as his mind keeps wondering what could be up with Damian.

-o-o-o-o-

“Alrighty,” Jason says, clapping his hands together as the movie credits begin to roll. “Goodnight.”

Damian doesn’t say anything as Jason gets up and gathers the paper plates to throw them away. Jason is determined to just go to bed and not deal with any of this in the morning. Sure, he should go out as Hood and take down some gangs, but Damian doesn’t appear to have his costume—let alone a change of clothes—with him and there’s no way Jason is leaving him here alone.

He should just call Dick. Call him and he’d gladly drop everything he’s doing to take the kid away. However, he can’t help but feel a sense of unity when he notices Damain’s phone ding with a little text notification and Damian quickly sliding it away, not even reading it.

Besides, Jason said he could stay the night. What kind of person would he be if he couldn’t make good on his word? He’s an ex-killer not a complete jackass.

He retreats to his room, releasing a sigh and shutting the door. It’s a small house, nothing but a living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom. Damian will have to sleep on the couch because there’s no way Jason is letting him take his bed. He takes off his shirt and changes into a pair of looser fitting pants as he crawls into the rickety old bed that was discounted at IKEA because someone broke some pieces. The blankets he slips into are thin but many. Well, three. It’s decent enough, he can survive most cold nights with the warmth three thin, threadbare blankets could scrap up.

He closes his eyes, thinking about nothing other than sleep.

He wonders if he has a blanket out there for-

Woah wait. Hold up. Nooope. Go to bed Jason. Go to bed...

Sleep...

It’s a colder night and the living room gets colder than the bedroom...

But it’s warm in his blankets so he won’t worry about it... sleep... sleep sleep sleep...

He peeks his eye open and looks at his phone sitting on the mattress beside his head.

Not even fifteen minutes has passed. He growls and forces his eyes closed, curling his knees so they’re almost touching his chest. Did he lock the door? He’s pretty sure he locked the door. Though, if he didn’t that would mean someone could barge in and the first thing they’d see was a small kid in his day clothes shivering in the cold of the living room with no pillow.

No, he definitely locked the door. He definitely locked it just like how he definitely doesn’t care if a certain demon brat is crashing on his couch in day old clothes with no pillow or blanket.

He opens his eyes, looks at how only a minute has passed and silently curses to himself.

Shit.

He cares.

He throws the blankets off from his body and slips off the side of his bed to his feet. He looks around his room and grabs at one out of two pillows he was using and then tears off one out of three blankets and stomps towards his door, just to stop and growl as he turns around and finds the smallest shirt and sweats he could find.

He barges into the living room and Damian practically jumps from his curled up position on the couch. Jason ignores the subject of his lack of sleep as he goes to the door, grabs the handle, and giggles it to make sure it’s locked.

It’s locked.

He turns heel and Damian is watching him as if he’s grown a second head. Jason ignores the stare and dumps the pile of fabric in his arms onto the kid. Damian squawks but Jason ignores that and storms back to his room, trying to ignore the goosebumps on his arms and chest from the cold of the room and how he’s making a thirteen year old kid sleep out here and- NOPE! He’s not worried about it. He gave him a blanket and pillow and even some of his own clothes. Damian will survive and Jason will sleep.

He hits his pillow, trying not to mourn the girth he’s lost beneath his head because he’s too nice of a guy sometimes, and curls up in his two blankets, fighting off the threat of shivers from going out into the chilly air. He eventually warms up, just like actual sleep begins to lure him, and soon he’s not thinking about much of anything...

...

Was that a sniffle?

His eyes creek open against his will. Time has felt like it moved, and when he glares at his phone to see two hours has passed he curses the gods for making this night as difficult as possible. He’s about to close his eyes again when the something that woke him up that he had almost forgot about sounds again.

A sniff. From the other side of the door. It sounds wet, like it belongs to a runny nose and his eyebrows come together. Yeah it’s cold out in the living room but not that cold. He closes his eyes, blaming dramatics, when the sniffle sounds again, but with something else this time that has Jason practically jumping out of his bed like he’s been electrocuted.

A whimper. That was a whimper.

He creeps towards the door, something heavy in his gut, and places his ear on the thin wood.

He can hear it all clearly now. The sniffles, the tiny choked off whimpers of someone trying to not make too much noise, the panting breaths.

Crying. Someone’s crying on the other side of his door and it’s two in the morning and Jason is all of a sudden thinking about the ignored texts, the silent acceptance of not even sub-par food, the cute distracting animal game, the caught in the headlights look when Jason stormed out earlier, the almost desperate way he asked to crash the night here, the angry outburst the he’s not a killer.

Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t. This is Dick’s job. Not Jason. Jason is the family black sheep who people avoid unless they want something, and Jason avoids them right back. Dick is the big, caring, older brother while Jason is the distant outcast. Jason doesn’t care if Damian is in his living room crying. He really, truly, awfully, lyingly doesn’t care.

Shit.

He cares.

crying opens his door slowly and the sniffling and whimpering instantly cuts off. The door swings slowly open and Jason is left standing in his doorway watching as Damian wipes furiously at his eyes and glares at the opposite side of the room, curling up and biting his lower lip to perhaps stop it from trembling.

“What do you want, Todd,” Damian snarls, but his voice tremors and Jason has to fight down the panic threatening to escape his throat because he has no clue what to do. Here’s some kid who’s legally his youngest brother who’s swimming in his too big clothes with tear tracks down his cheeks and Jason cannot think of a single thing to do.

What would Dick do? Dick would smile and probably gather the kid up in a hug and say everything will be okay and other soppy comforting crap. Jason runs the scenario out in his head, imagines him trying to approach the kid with open arms to give him a hug. Strangely enough, while he can easily imagine Dick and Damian ending up cuddling or whatever, Jason can only see himself writhing on the floor with a knife between his ribs.

So, the Dick-protocol is out. Jason needs to do something else, and quick.

He grinds his jaw and forces himself to leave the safety of the room. Damian watches him warily as he slowly sits up and backs up to the corner of the sofa, furthest from where Jason is approaching from. Jason gives the kid a side eyed glance before he grabs at the remote and turns on the TV.

Jason isn’t the best with cuddles or comfort, but the least he can do is sit it out and let Damian decide what the next step is, even if Jason has to sit here shirtless in the chilly living room with the TV turned low on some Spanish soap channel for the rest of the night.

Somehow, Damian doesn’t fight that. He just wipes his eyes again, getting rid of most evidence of tear tracks, and then settles into his corner, stubbornly watching the TV.

Forty minutes into the soap marathon, right when someone is revealed to not be the father—gasp—something finally happens.

Damian speaks.

“Do you regret it?” Says a small voice in a whisper. Jason turns his head and he almost has to squint his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. Damian is valiantly avoiding his gaze, staring straight at the TV. His hands are nervously pulling at the strings of his borrowed sweatpants though, which is a sight Jason never thought he’d see.

“Regret what?” He questions.

Damian worries his lip for a second and something shiny swims in his eyes. Jason remains silent until Damian finally speaks. “Killing those people.”

Finally, Damian looks at Jason and he looks so vulnerable and scared and Jason is pretty sure this is all just some sort of fever dream because what the hell. His brain short circuits and restarts as he tries to gather his thoughts, but suddenly all his thoughts are nothing more than green anger as he hacks through the necks of drug dealers and stuffs heads in duffel bags. Thoughts lined with lividity as he shoots at rapists and murderers and gets blood splattered on his red mask. Thoughts of holding the Joker against his chest, pressing the point of his gun against the psychopaths temple and screaming a choice at Bruce.

The Joker, or him.

He absentmindedly reaches for the scar on his neck; it’s a unique one for the fact it’s not one that he gained in death nor in his autopsy. It’s thin and precise and did just enough damage for Jason to accidentally let go of the Joker and grab at the sharp batarang sticking out from his neck, blood already leaking through his fingers. Proof that Bruce would rather slice his neck than let a mindless murderer continue to breathe. A permanent reminder that Jason isn’t as important as some no-kill-rule. A warning he should never attempt something like that ever again.

He’s been doing better. He hasn’t killed anyone since... since forever. His bullets are not ones made to kill. His aims are not lethal. When he shoots he shoots because he has to, and he’s been forcing himself to use his fists first.

Does he regret it? Does he regret getting so angry and hurt and confused that he killed dozens of people just to get Black Mask angry so he could get to Joker and therefore Batman? Does he regret the blood on his hands? The hours clutching his chest in the shower after the first life he took, scrubbing at his skin so it’s red and raw, repeating over and over and over to himself that this will all be worth it. The days avoiding the freezer where he stored the severed heads until he had all of them because he was afraid he’d puke? The months convincing himself that beating his replacement senseless would be worth it?

Does he regret it?

He clutches the material of his pants with one hand and rubs the length of his scar with his other, taking a deep breath.

“No.”

Damian’s eyes widen slightly in shock, and Jason realizes he was expecting a different answer. He clears his throat, fights the urge to hug himself like he’s raw and vulnerable. An animal on display.

“I don’t regret killing those people. But if I was sent back in time and given the option to redo everything... I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian says and Jason releases a bitter chuckle.

“I’m a different person now, and back then killing those people I felt was the only thing I could do. I used to... sit and wonder about what I could have done differently, what I could have changed, but I decided it isn’t worth it. I killed those people in cold blood, and if I regret it now then I won't be able to move on. So no, I don’t regret it.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence and Jason sighs. “Look, I enjoy talking about my past as much as the next guy, but why do you bring it up?“

Damian bites his lip again, and Jason almost worries that sooner or later he’s going to draw blood with his sharp canines, but Damian brings his legs to his chest and stars absentmindedly at the TV as some chick slaps another chick for whatever reason.

“I regret them,” Damian whispers, and Jason decides now would be a wise time to remain silent. “I killed people because my mother and grandfather said it was my birthright too. I was superior and they were worthless. I never... thought anything of it. Until now.” He takes a shaky breath and continues, rubbing his eye with his shoulder. “I promised Grayson I would never kill again, and I’ve always intended to keep that promise for myself if not for him. B-but father doesn’t trust me all the time and it’s hard t-to think that I’m ever going to live up to that promise when he’s constantly telling me how I could have slipped up or how I could have killed... killed somebody a-and it’s been three years since- and why doesn’t he trust me? Why does he always think I’m... I’m gonna...”

He breaks off into a painful sounding sob and Jason watches wide eyed, completely at a loss of what to do. He sits there and watches as Damian explains through sobs that someone died yesterday, a criminal he was chasing. The man accidentally slipped off the docks into the freezing, churning, unforgiving water of Gotham Bay and drowned before Robin could safely get down to him. Batman arrived just as Robin pulled his dead body back onto the docks. Batman tried to resuscitate him, but with no luck.

Robin was benched, blamed for his death, and Nightwing didn’t take his side.

Bruce said he could have reacted faster. Dick chose to try and stay in the middle but ended up just getting Bruce mad at both of them and Damian feeling betrayed.

It’s no wonder Damian ran out and was ignoring every text message sent his way. He feels like his whole world has turned against him. Jason is almost tempted to let the kid stay more than the night.

Somehow, Jason’s managed to scoot closer to the crying kid, and somehow, Damian’s ended up under his arms. Leaning against his chest, crying and letting the warm tears run down his cheeks and against Jason’s skin. It feels personal. It feels open. It feels secret and sacred.

Jason clutches the kid closer, and he doesn’t say a thing because he doesn’t know what to say quite yet.

He just holds him, then when Damian tires himself out and his eyes become puffy and half-lidded, Jason gathers him up and carries him to the bedroom, his arms too full to turn off the TV. Damian instantly curls up into his side as he lays them both down onto the bed, dragging the sheets.

People die on patrol, yet Bruce seems to be the hardest on them when it’s the criminals who die. Victims, choking on their own blood and crying, eyes going milky, but Bruce only sees the criminal that Jason aloud to get shot by their own partner, he only sees the thug Jason aloud to get stabbed through the gut when Joker got sick of them. It’s a whole, vile system Bruce has. When victims die, it’s no one’s fault, but when the bad guys die, they should have been strong enough and brave enough and fast enough to stop it.

Jason doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Jason not to kill. He doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Damian not to kill.

So the least Jason can do right now while Bruce seethes and Dick tries to mediate is hold Damian a little tighter as a promise that Jason is on his side instead of the people who are supposed to be.

He hopes it’s enough. Because it’s truly the least he can do.

[bluebellhairpin]

Out of Goodwill [2]

The Hobbit X Reader

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

A/N: Oops. I’ve wrote this instead of other things. Someone give me a badge for best procrastinator? But this part is a bit longer than my usual quota, have fun! - Nemo

Summary: The night ends, and a new day begins. And now you have to leave seven in your house. Let’s pray they won't break anything while you and Bard go out into the real world for the day.

Masterlist  

The time spent after dinner was… A little wild. 

First you needed to figure out where you’d place everyone when they slept, which was harder than it would’ve been considering everyone wanted to make sure you weren’t kicked out of your room or sleeping on the floor.

Eventually arrangements were made; Thranduil and Legolas would share the master bedroom, also known as your parents room for when they visited. You didn’t like how big it  was, even if you did use the walk-in wardrobe. In all truth you thought Legolas would get kicked onto the floor with some pillows and a blanket, but that was for those two to decide. 

Balin and Dwalin got your room, and you felt very lucky that you just cleared everything out to re-decorate, so it wasn’t like there was anything embarrassing left in there aside from your clothes. You trusted them not to snoop.

Thorin and Bard got your spare room, which held two single beds which usually housed your siblings when they visited, and you shoved a double mattress from under the master bed between the two singles for Fili and Kili. 

You dared not tell them that you’d be sleeping in front of the fire with another single mattress, you didn’t even pull the mattress out from its place before you knew they were all asleep. You wouldn’t hear the end of it if they didn’t believe you were just going to bunk next door. You didn’t care if they found out tomorrow, you just needed rest.

The next morning, you found, reluctantly, that Bard was an early riser. Like, five in the morning early riser. He was also very curious, and you gave away sleep to answer every question that came your way. 

He asked of the food you ate, the clothes you wore, what jobs you had, your family, your economic system, and everything else in between. To your surprise and thankfulness, he was a good listener, and a quick learner. By the time you discussion was over, he knew how to work the microwave and kettle. 

Thranduil emerged from upstairs at six thirty, and you shoved a mug of coffee in his hand as soon as he opened his mouth. He looked down at the mug, then tentatively took a sip, scrunching up his nose at it. You took the mug back and proceeded to make him a cup of tea, which he seemed to like more. 

Balin and Legolas were the next to wake, and luckily they woke at your weekday alarm of around seven. Balin also had plenty of questions, and he seemed to be drawn to your collection of books. He was eyeing them last night, and you told him he was welcome to read them as long as he didn’t damage them. He picked up The Hunger Games first, you felt obligated to tell him it was fiction, and that your encyclopedia would be a little better to get to know your world. He kept reading The Hunger Games instead. 

Legolas followed you around, watching what you were doing as you got ready for work at the distance a cat would watch it’s owner at. You caught him trying to copy your actions, but when you asked him if he wanted to be taught he said he didn’t need to know. 

Thorin and Dwalin emerged from their respective rooms as you were about to go into yours to pick out your clothes for the day, and Dwalin straight-up asked you where food was. You told him to ask nicely, or harass Bard, of which had been informed all about the kitchen earlier, which drew a short laugh from Thorin.

Fili and Kili both woke right as you were almost ready to leave for work. They were shuffling on their feet and still half asleep, but they both wanted to know where you were going anyway right as Bard appeared at your side asking to come with you. 

“I’m going to work.” You told the brothers, and even now you only just realised how huge they were. Human-sized dwarfs were scary huge. “And…” you looked Bard up and down, “No, you can’t come. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” 

“Can’t you get me other clothes?” he asked, and you had to think for a second. You had clothes from pretty much everywhere seeing as you picked out clothes based on what they looked like and how comfy they were. You even had a men’s suit tucked in your wardrobe because there wasn’t anything stopping you. Now that you thought about it, your dad did leave one of his suits behind last time he visited. 

Ten minutes later, Bard emerged from the bathroom with his former clothes folded in his hands and your father's grey three-piece suit. You had to admit, Bard looked good. 

“What is he wearing?” Thranduil asked with a quirked eyebrow, already on his fourth cup of tea. 

“It’s called a suit, and he needs it because it’s just about the only decent menswear I have that’d fit him.” You explained, taking the cloths from Bard to place them down on a side table and then shoving him down into a seat. 

“Hey! What are you-”

“Calm down, I need to fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“What isn’t wrong with your hair would be a better question.” Thranduil mumbled into his cup, clear not happy that Bard was shoved into the seat across from him. 

“Legolas, slap your father for me, would you?” You said, calling over to the other elf who was making a messy work of frying eggs as Kili looked on with a grin. Legolas snapped his head over to you, shock written on his face as Thorin and Dwalin laughed at Thranduil’s frozen posture. “What? It’s not hard to keep your mouth shut, Thranduil.” You said, finishing with Bard’s hair and you had to admit, it was an improvement, even slightly. 

You made your way back to the front door, calling back to Balin. 

“Balin, you’re in charge, if anything goes wrong… Legolas!” 

“Yes (y/n)?”

“You remember how to use that phone, right?”

“I think so!”

“Balin, if anything goes wrong get Legolas to call me. Whatever you do,” you said, leaning back into the lounge to address everyone, “Don’t go outside. You’ll cause a riot.” They all seemed to understand, and you looked to Fili and Kili. “You two hearing me?” 

“Yes (y/n).” They said, looking at you with eyes that made you want to believe them.

“Don’ worry lass, I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.” Dwalin said, TV remote in hand and offering it to you as if you ask you to turn it on. You shake your head with a smile.

“You’ll figure it out, just don’t break anything.” And with that you left, Bard on your heels towards your work. You just really hoped no one questioned what Bard was doing with you, or why he was going to be lurking around the library archives all day.

Your first stop was a cafe, since you needed it, and because you always brought in a couple drinks and pastries for those you worked with. It was what you became known for. 

While waiting around for your items, you looked over at Bard.

“We’re gonna have to give you another name.” You said.

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. With his head movement you noted a couple girls behind him staring.  You let out a sigh, deciding not to address it. 

“Because ‘Bard’ isn’t exactly a common name.” 

“So what do you suggest to call me instead?” he asked,shifting his  weight from one foot to the other and crossed his arms.

“Ben?” you suggested, and got an upturned nose. Ben was a no. 

“Beau?” 

“Getting better, but no.”

“You understand that this is only a name to use in front of others, it’s not like we’re completely changing your name.” you said, as your name was called. You went to collect your paper bag of food and tray of drinks, then returned to a slightly pouting Bard. “Okay, what about we try one more name, and if it doesn't even spark the slightest joy in you, we’ll give it up and you can stick to Bard?” 

“Alright, hit me.” he agreed, moving to open and hold the door for you.

“Okay, let me think,” you started, Bard now rejoining you and taking the cup from th tray that was marked ‘HC’ for hot chocolate (you decided to start him on something less caffeine-infused), “Bryce?” 

He looked up at you, his expression unreadable, and after a fe walking strides shook his head. 

“No. That’s not right either.” He said, continuing in step with you as you let out a puff of air.

“Oh well, I guess you’re just destined to stick out as ‘Bard’.” You joked, sipping from your own drink as you turned the final corner to the library that sat on top of the cities archives. 

When it came to getting Bard in the archives without a library card was a little difficult, but Bard flashed the girl on security a smile, stole one of your doughnuts to give her and he was in. 

Your workmates, both avid book fans, saw Bard and their jaws practically dropped to the floor. When you introduced Bard as ‘Bard’, you think one of them almost fainted. 

“Man, (y/n)” Harry said, pulling you away to gather his drink as Jazz talked to Bard, “How’d you get Luke Evans to come visit you at work?” 

“That’s that thing, Haz,” you laughed, “It ain’t Evans.” 

“What, you just managed to get a man that looks, sounds and acts like ‘Bard’?” Harry hummed, clearly not believing you as he took a sip of his latte. 

“No, that is Bard.” he shook his head.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“I have seven more at home.”

“What, Bard look-alike?” he snickered, and you noted that Bard and Jazz were both looking your way.

“No, Hobbit characters.” 

“Wait, like Legolas?” Jazz asked, bounding over to tug at your sleeve.

“And Thranduil.” Jazz gasped, seeing as she was a heavily elf fan, her next request didn’t surprise you, and made you laugh more than anything else.

“Can I see them?” 

“After work!” And with that she was off, setting back to asking an amused Bard all sort of questions.

You thought he’d be there for a while, and a while he was. 

It was only after your lunch break that you caught Bard wandering through the rows of shelves and files to try and find you. 

“That Jazz is a bit of a character,” Bard started, making his way to you as you put away some files from earlier, drawing a smile to your face, “She’s… Very talkative.”

“Yeah, sorry if she gets a bit too ‘in your business’, she’s like that with everyone.” You say, glancing at him to see he was also smiling.

“Good to know I’m not as special as I thought I was.” he said, starting to pick and choose at the files on the opposite row. “You know, this world would be worth staying in, if I didn’t have people back home.” he said softly, almost a whisper.

“Damn,” you said, breathing in sharply, “We need to get you home.” you ran a hand along your face and lent against the filing cabinet. 

“It’ll be okay, I know people in Laketown will only start missing me after a week or so. I was meant to go to Erebor for a while, they won’t be any wiser.”

“Why were you going to Erebor?” you asked, raising your head to look at him properly. 

“That,” he started, voice still soft, “That’s a long story (y/n).”

“I have all afternoon, so start talking.”

----------

Series Taglist: @irisv-x 

[veryrealimagination]

Whumptober 2020 - Days 4 and 5

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME

Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

&

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?

On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Fandom: Psych/MacGyver 2016 (Trust me, this wouldn't have been let out of my head if I could have avoided it.)

“Sandbox.”

The man in question raised his head from the computer he was watching over. The program that was copying relevant files from the company server was running. No one had stopped by the server room in eleven minutes since he managed to get in. Their person that sneaked into the guard position was halfway through a tour of the floor they were on. “Mastermind,” he said, taking a look outside.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said, voice tight.

Psych interrupted, “The guards don’t know anything. Everything’s good on this end.”

“Yeah, but one of their plans just got triggered.”

“Which one?”

“R and B.”

Psych smirked at the unintended joke. “I wouldn’t mind a change in music.”

“Hilarious, Psych,” Sandbox muttered.

“Keeping the mood up.”

“As much as I, quote unquote, love R and B, it’s the raze and burn they kept peppering into their ideas. They aren’t going with clean slate. Too risky.”

Sandbox double checked the computer. Nothing had interrupted it. The program was getting closer to completion. “Clean slate’s too risky?”

“The human factor. Someone could talk. Raze and burn is going to take out anyone connected to their project along with the computer work.”

Psych nodded to the guy at the computer monitors. New guy, it’s his first week. Out of sight, he took notice on how there were fewer guards than he remembered a few days ago. And how most were newer. “‘Mind, how was raze and burn going to work? Hit men coming in or accidents on their way home from work?”

There was tapping on the computer. “Shit.”

“Language.”

“English.”

“‘Mind, that joke got old the second time.”

She bypassed, “Raze and burn’s going to destroy the entire company. They have a layout on how to kill everyone. From the CEO to the maintenance guy and anyone on site when they perform this.”

Sandbox asked, “When’s this happening?”

“Today.”

Psych stopped in his walk. “What?”

“I think when we started copying the files, it alerted them to our presence. They’ve got a clean team heading to the building now. And something’s in the building. They already have it rigged.” She paused, and they heard her breathing on the other side to control a slight attack. “Sandbox, where’s the computer at?”

He turned back to the program. Downloading was complete, but it was running a virus scan. “I’m good on my end. Packing up and heading down.”

She nodded, knowing what he was going to do. “Psych, cover a fire alarm and pull the lever. Let’s see if we can’t evacuate and cause some chaos to keep them from killing on sight.”

The other man grabbed a plastic trash bag and found the closest fire alarm. Pulling, he saw the plastic be hit with blue dye. No alarms went off. “Mind, something’s going wrong.”

She didn’t answer, as the young woman in question was checking the alarm, which also should have sent a signal to the fire department. “Bad news, they disconnected the building. Pulling the alarm shut all outside system warnings off,” she said, switching gears. “Psych, go manual. Start warning people.”

“What do I use?”

“Go with the truth. Domestic terrorist about to descend on the building. Get them out and into the businesses around the area. One building goes down, horrible tragedy. Ten businesses get attacked, something’s suspicious and it brings attention.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard to get into a different document. “Sandbox, let me know when you’ve passed on the pack.”

Psych went back to the guy at the monitor. “Hey, I think we have a problem,” he said, “I saw someone unidentified going down one of the stairwells. He was talking to someone on the phone.”

The man looked up. “What about?”

“Making everyone here pay. Said it was going to be bigger…”

“Bigger than the Bath School Massacre.”

He didn’t go with that. No one remembered that and she needed to stop trying to make history lessons on the go. “Bigger than the recent shootings. More explosive.”

The newbie’s eyes widen. “Oh, not good. We need to evacuate everyone.”

Psych nodded, “Yeah, and the fire alarm has been disabled. I already tried that to get people out.” He held up the trash bag that he used to pull it and showed off the ink that covered it.

The guy had the whole shocked face going. “I better call the other floors. Will you start getting everyone off this floor and move to the other ones?”

Being on the top floor sucked for getting to the servers, but it made up in getting out easier. Now he had a legit excuse to get to the ground floor. “No problem.” He hurried out and started running around. “Mastermind, update?”

She was tapping on the other side for a moment. “The security on the other floors is also unusually light. The calls just getting through and they’re working on getting people up and out to the surrounding businesses. Sandbox is done. He dropped off the pack and is heading to the basement.”

Psych stopped in the middle of the floor he was vacating. “Wait, why is he going to the basement?”

“Because I’m a former EOD tech and I still know how to disable a bomb, Psych.” The man himself interrupted. “Mind’s directing me to the support columns that they’ll target to bring the place down. Get to her, grab the pack, and get to the Point.”

‘Are you kidding me?’ he mouthed before double timing himself on getting people out. Most were already up and heading out with company laptops and other items that normally they would leave behind. They were taking this seriously.

The place was cleared out as soon as he got to the ground floor. Or the regular people that would heed the warnings were getting out. The last people there were the security guards who were triple checking for stragglers and the supposed terrorist before leaving as well. One had gone down and was unlocking doors.

Psych found Mastermind in the small office that had been empty for months. The secondary pack was at her feet. “The team’s almost here,” she reported.

“Good, that’s means we’re leaving, right?”

“Not yet,” Sandbox stopped, “’Mind, who’s left in the building?”

She switched back over to the cameras. “Just us and a guard waiting at the main entrance.”

“Police here?”

“Not yet,” Psych said, “And if my lovely wife told me anything-“

“Taught.”

“No, told. If there’s a terrorist and a bomb threat, they’re sending out the big guns. We should expect SWAT and-“

“An bomb disposal unit. Yeah, Psych. I figured. Same field, remember?”

Mastermind interrupted them. “Great, except the cleaning team got here first.”

Psych looked over her shoulder. “They’re scanning the crowds, but they’re not attempting anything.”

“Yeah, but only because cops are right behind them. SWAT’s on the scene, Sandbox.”

“Bomb crew?”

“No, but the cops that are following behind just rushed the crew in.”

“Get yourselves out.” Psych shook his head and barricaded the door to their room, a cheap desk shoved under along with anything else he could reach. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Nope,” the other man proudly said, going to the other side and checking windows. They both jumped when something pounded on the door. After two minutes, the attempts to get in stopped.

Mastermind warily looked before switching to a camera feed. “Don’t look so happy, Psych, they're not giving up. Two are still out there.” She followed the other ones on the floor. One was in the lead, guiding them straight to a basement door. “Sandbox, they're coming down. How many devices?”

“I’ve seen two, but a place this size would need about four to six.”

“What a coincidence, there’s about four to six guys in the building. We’ve got two, and, I think three went down the stairs.” She switched the camera feeds to try and track the enemy. After about thirty seconds, her feeds started developing static. “Ummm.”

Psych was over her shoulder in a second. “Hey, Sandbox, someone’s messing with the cameras,” he said. After a minute, it cleared up, but ‘Mind was going through code to see what was happening.

“Do you think they belong to one of the companies?”

She continued tapping, trying to keep everything on track. “Doesn’t look like it, but they may have brought in a new player.”

For three minutes, they held a tense version of cat and mouse. The guys outside of the door hadn’t moved. Psych was watching in case they came through the window. Mastermind was waiting for someone to start attacking on the computer, but nothing was happening. Sandbox had managed to avoid the three people that was hunting him down.

In the middle of a defusal, someone managed to get the jump on him. Sandbox had to divert attention from it to take down the man. However, the bomb activated, giving them thirty seconds. Mastermind noticed. They didn’t. “Sandbox, get out, it’s a lost cause. Out, now!” she ordered, “Psych, grab the bag and get out the window. You know who to contact.” She quick slept her laptop and packed it up, gathering two other cords to throw over her shoulder and follow out the door.

The two on the outside had run off after being warned about a bomb going off. Unknown to them, the other triggers had been activated, set to go off at the same time as the partially de-armed one. Psych barely got out from the radius before the building let off a giant blast from its base. “Mastermind? Sandbox?” he hissed into the mic, “Guys!” Someone grabbed his shoulder and swung him around.

-

Sandbox woke quick. He was grateful to have thrown himself to protect his head. However, it didn’t save his lower half. A beam laid across his lower leg and he could feel something jammed into his back. He hoped that it wasn’t dangerous enough to need a hospital. They couldn’t enter one at the moment.

One of the guys that had been hunting him laid nearby. The beam nearby and a dented skull said that that guy wasn’t getting back up. He felt a little sorry for the guy, but not enough to feel horrible about it. He didn’t hear anything nearby, and he regulated the other two into a non-important status. The blast likely blocked them in other rooms, unless they had been killed as well. ‘Or if they ran out of the building.’

His two partners, he assumed got out. They had the evidence about what the company had been doing. Both knew where to go. He told him about his friends. They had the connections and the ability to do something if they couldn’t. However, Mastermind was determined to stay until he was done, and Psych would have stayed to help and protect her.

‘Mind was the one that warned me. She probably got caught up in the blast.’ That thought was enough to get him to start trying to move. Shifting around, the item in his back cause a spike of pain, and then he felt something coming out. “Fuck,” he moaned, double checking and groaning when he saw blood on his fingers. Someone groaned to the left of him. He swung his head around to look but couldn’t immediately see anything. “Fuck.”

-

Mastermind touched the side of her head, a trail of blood coming down. Pain that had been in the background radiated for a moment before fading to a thump. She glared at the drywall that had a bit of her blood on it. The floor she was on had multiple walls break down, including one that caught her off guard as she tried to make it to a secondary exit. The bag on her back saved her from a large piece of metal from impaling her. The metal got its revenge on the laptop instead. It didn’t stop a piece of drywall from ripping her arm open or another piece from slamming into her ribs.

“Okay, check yourself before moving again,” she muttered to herself. Her arm hurt. It was deep. It needed stitches and a booster shot. Prodding her lower chest resulted in sharp pain. Nothing was shifting, however. “Owww! Okay. Ribs, maybe. Umm.” What was the indications of internal bleeding? Bloating? Maybe? How was she supposed to check that?

A sound from the end of the hall snapped her neck to the right, making her wince at the new pain. Two people in black were coming forward. She couldn’t tell if they were from the company, but they may have been waiting outside out of the camera view. Guns weren’t out, but she was reading orders about capture and contain again.

“One of three found,” one of them reported.

“Shit.”

-

Psych was hustled over to a decidedly not SWAT vehicle. He was about to stave off help when the one that approached him tugged on the bag. “Ah, no, sorry, this bag stays with me,” he said, holding onto it with a fist.

“Shawn Spencer, husband of Julie Spencer, Chief Detective in Sacramento, you two just had a child,” the woman standing near the bumper listed. “You’ve been on the run with one of my operatives and another person. You’re coded Psych due to the former business you had in Santa Barbara.”

A woman in the cab mentioned ‘off-handedly,’ “Sandbox is a friend of ours.”

Sandbox. Okay. He was going to call them, but they came to them. Awesome. The guy that was trying to get the bag was allowed to take it so the woman in the cab could start working on it. “Sandbox was down in the basement, trying to disable the bombs set at certain pillars.”

“The third person, Mastermind?”

“Inside, ground floor. We were near an empty office by the back entrance.” The woman outside nodded to four people. They rushed in, weapons at the ready. Two found a staircase almost uninhibited from debris and went down. The other two started a sweep of the ground floor.

The ground floor was littered with walls and broken decorations. There were parts of the floor that were starting to sink into the basement, making it harder to get through. Weapons drawn, they were prepared to stop anyone in their way.

The area near the offices were splattered with office furniture and other small items. They didn’t hear anything, and there weren’t traces of anyone managing to get themselves up and out. About to report in negative, they heard someone shout in pain. Moving as quickly as safely possible, they turned the corner and saw nothing. Scanning, they saw blood on a wall and checked around.

A gunshot answered their heads showing. The two of them shot back, trying to hit the two men dragging the woman out a standing exit. One got hit in the arm, but they ducked out of sight before they could continue.

“Ma’am, exit on the east side. They have the girl,” one reported.

“Go after them.” She pointed to a spare agent to try and surround the small group. Psych waited anxiously for good news. Mastermind wasn’t law enforcement. He wasn’t either, but his experiences prepared him better than the young woman that was plucked from her boring existence. He and Sandbox silently figured that out within the first week of their captivity. They kept each other sane.

Good news turned to bad when one man came back with a cheap backpack that had a pole sticking through it. One drop of blood came off the end and splattered on the ground. “Fuck,” Psych hissed.

“The other two went down to help dig out MacGyver, ma’am,” he reported.

She nodded at the news. “Mr. Spencer, if you will get in the back with my agents, your wife and friend are waiting at our headquarters.” He frowned before clambering inside.

-

Sandbox woke up with a familiar ceiling above his head, but he didn’t remember what Phoenix mission he was on that got him injured. Until he remembered Masterminds voice, worry painted on her words, Psychs exactly the same. The ceiling caving above him and the dead hired hand that he saw later on. How am I back at Phoenix?

“You scared me, kid,” a voice interrupted. Confused, he turned to see Jack leaning up against the wall, where he could keep an eye on him and someone else. He turned to see Psych conked out in the only seat. “Maddie called me three days after you disappeared, when they realized it wasn’t normal.”

“When did you get here?” he asked, barely able to get the words out. Never mind why or how, the fact that Jack was here at all was a welcomed sight.

“Five days ago,” he said. “Been trying to figure out what the hell the three of you were doing. Psychie over there.” He waved to Shawn. “Told me about World War Three and some of the smartest people being forced to cause the damn thing. That you stopped them and were getting everything you could to bring these guys down.” He smiled, ruffling the younger man’s hair as he knew only he could get away with.

He groaned at the motion, hand slow to come up and stop him. “And what about Mastermind? Is she working with Riley?” He didn’t like the worry on his face. “Where’s Mastermind, Jack?” His mind jumped quickly to the worst possible conclusion.

“Alive, but we’re trying to find her,” he stopped, “The guys they sent recaptured her. The laptop was secured and Riley’s working on that.” The hand didn’t go on his head again, but on his uninjured shoulder. “It ain’t your fault, Mac.”

“Just bad luck,” he muttered, remembering one of Mind’s favorite sayings.

[avintagekiss24]

The Cat and the Cop

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: breaking and entering, smut

Summary: You've done this a thousand times. You were so close, you could feel that diamond necklace in your hands... but Officer Barnes had other plans. 

Word Count: 3806

Link: AO3

Square Filled: Y5 - AU: Cop/Detective/FBI

A/N: This could turn into a thing? Like a series? Cuz I love the model’s look and I really love Cop!Bucky. I dunno, tell me what you think? Written for @buckybarnesbingo

You suck on your cigarette, pulling it from your lips to flick your thumb against the filter. You keep your eyes on the jewelry store across the street, watching the redheaded sales clerk through the glass store front. You clock the one security guard by the door, then let your eyes shift to the sidewalk as people move about. You straighten up as the lights to the store go out, pulling your hood over your head. You drop the cigarette to the ground and step on it, lifting your head to watch the security guard and the redhead move out onto the sidewalk. The husky security guard locks the door behind him, pulling on it a few times to ensure it’s locked, then takes off in the opposite direction of the redhead.

You wait a beat, then shove your hands into the pockets of your leather jacket and drop your head as you cross the street. You head down the alley and take a quick glance behind you before pulling out a pair of black latex gloves. You pull them over your hands, flexing your fingers before reaching for the fire escape ladder. You climb it quickly, crouching down once you reach the roof to not gain any attention from the people below. You lower the ski mask over your face and pull open the roof hatch slowly, peeking inside before lowering yourself through the opening.

You move slowly and deliberately, lowering yourself into the small office, dangling for a second before you drop down onto the tile floor. You stay crouched, listening intently for movements other than your own. When you’re met with stillness, you stand, pulling the mask up to your forehead and move to the computer in the corner. You pull out a sheet of paper from your pocket and tap at the keyboard, your eyes flickering from the paper to the screen as you access the security cameras. You enter a string of numbers and with a single tap of your fingers, the four views of the show floor all go black.

You smile.

You head out of the backroom and onto the main floor, pulling out your phone. You tap into your messages and bring up the picture of the fifty thousand dollar necklace you were commissioned to steal. It sure is pretty. You whistle as you run your finger along the long glass cases before kneeling down to eye your prize. A small smile spreads on your face. This is your favorite part.

You stand, reaching into your jacket pocket again to pull out your tools when something shifts suddenly to your left. You snap your head toward the movement and throw your hands up to block the bright light being shown in your face.

“Hands up!” A voice shouts from behind the light. Fuck. You close your eyes as you suck your teeth, placing your hands up on either side of your head, “Turn around and face the door.”

You oblige, like you really have a choice, and let out a deep, disappointed breath. There goes your pay day, one you desperately needed. You turn your head, cutting your eyes back toward the cop, his gun still pointed at you as he mumbles into his radio. You like his voice. It’s strangely soothing.

“Hands on your head, interlock your fingers.”

You do as your told, keep your gaze out on the street. He steps toward you, reaching out and placing a large hand on both of yours. You hear a soft click as he places his gun back into the holster. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face as he pulls your hands from the top of your head and places them behind your back. You drop your head and laugh, fuck!

“What’s the joke?” He asks as the cold metal of the handcuffs encircle your wrists.

You suck in an irritated breath, “The fucker told me there wasn’t a silent alarm.”

He chuckles, tightening the cuffs, “He was right, there isn’t one.”

Your mouth drops open as he kicks at your feet, wanting you to spread your legs, “You’re kidding.”

He leans over your shoulder, “I’m not. Wider, please.”

You step out wider, letting your head fall back to stare at the ceiling as he pats at your sides and down each leg, “Well, that’s fucking annoying.”

“Or, you’re just losing your touch.” He retorts, causing you to scoff. He chuckles, standing up straight again to dig his hands into your pockets, “You got an ID on you?”

You laugh lightly, “Of course not.”

He grabs your forearm and begins guiding you toward the front door, “Alright, out to my car.”

The walk of shame. You know this well, having been a thief for most of your life. You don’t even drop your head anymore. You wear that shit with honor now. He pushes you out the back door and into the crisp Brooklyn night. His radio goes off repeatedly as the two of you move down the block, adding a little noise to the silence between you. Once you reach his car, he allows you to lean up against it as he fumbles around in the front seat for a minute or two. You hear the drivers door slam, which rocks you gently as the car bounces and you follow him with your eyes until he’s standing in front of you.

He’s good looking for a cop. Square jaw, a light stubble covering his lower face and chin. His eyes are piercing blue, his hair short as he runs his fingers through it. Your eyes scan down his body, the dark blue uniform doing a lot for him on this starry night. He clears his throat and you shoot your eyes back up to his to find him smirking at you.

“Looks like I’m pushing for another charge, huh?” You laugh, not having any shame about you.

“You know I can charge you with a felony right? Breaking and entering with the intent to commit a crime. Plus,” He starts, pulling out the plastic bags and cutting utensils you were going to use, “Each one of these tools adds another year.”

You grimace, squinting your nose as your squint your eyes, “That sucks.”

He laughs again, “And you checked me out? That’s sexual harassment, if not trying to intimidate an officer.”

“Intimidate?” You ask incredulously, your eyes wide, a smile on your face, “You’re not scared of little old me, are you?”

He cocks his head to the side, squinting a little as his eyes roam along your face. You smile slowly as electricity bounces between the two of you. If you weren’t quite literally being arrested right now, you’d be putting down every move you know. He’s that cute (for a cop, anyway). He squints a little, placing a hand on his hip, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You sure?” He asks genuinely, “You’re a thief, I haven’t arrested you before?”

You shake your head, “I prefer cat burglar, thank you, and nah. I’d remember getting arrested by you, officer,” You lean forward to read the name on his badge, “Barnes.”

“Maybe so,” He says quietly, tapping his fingers against his belt, “Listen, I’m gonna cut you a break since you’ve been cool with me. Since nothing was taken, and you technically didn’t force your way in, I’m just going to charge you with criminal trespass tonight.”

You smile widely, showing off your pearly whites, “You’re gonna let me go?”

“Not entirely.” You groan, throwing your head back, causing him to laugh, “You have to come with me, but if you continue to comply, you’ll be out in a few hours and a court date. Cool?”

You roll our head forward and sigh but grace him with another smile, “I won’t push my luck, officer.”

“We good?” He smiles wider.

You nod, pressing your lips together, “We good.”

“So, you gonna give me your name, so I can speed this process up a little?”

You push away from the car as he opens the back door for you, “Come on now, I gotta make you work for something.”

“I thought we were good!”

“We are, but we all have a job to do.”

He laughs, shaking his head as you slide inside, “We’ll do it your way then.”

You smile again as you watch him walk around the front of his car, “You gonna tell me how you caught me? Since there was no silent alarm?”

“Hey,” He starts, pulling away from the curb, “We all have a job to do, right? You figure it out.”

It’s a little after midnight when you finally get released. It’s dark and cold, the moon high in the sky as you slide back into your leather jacket. You push through the streets, the brisk air tossing your hair as it whips around you. You’re to wired and it’s entirely too early for you to head home, so you skip into a familiar underground club, loud house music bursting through the door as soon as you enter. The lights are low, the dance floor packed with bodies as you squeeze yourself up to the bar. You order a bourbon, closing your eyes as it stings your throat. You pull out your phone and lose yourself in texts, having to explain to your contact why you didn’t make the drop.

“Checking me out wasn’t enough for you? You had to follow me too?”

You pick your eyes up from your phone to stare at the bottles behind the bar. A smile spreads on your face as turn your head toward the familiar soothing voice, “Officer Barnes. How nice to see you again.”

He stands next to you, his beer bottle to his lips as he eyes you. He’s dressed casually in a light navy jacket, t shirt and jeans. His light gray t-shirt hugs his torso nicely, accentuating his biceps and chest underneath the soft red lighting that comes from behind the bar.

“Bucky.” He extends his hand toward you and you gladly take it, shaking it lightly, “You aren’t planning on robbing them blind too, are ya?”

“No, I have standards, Bucky.”  He smiles, then bites his bottom lip. God, you’d like to bite that lip too, “What ah, what’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

He quirks his eyebrow, “A guy like me?”

“Yeah, man.” You laugh, “Cops usually don’t hang out in seedy little clubs like this one.”

“Well, I’m not just a cop. I have interests too, you know.” He shrugs, taking another sip of his beer, “The music’s good here.”

You nod slowly, dropping your eyes to the square glass holding your liquor between your hands. A man with some taste, you like that. You like that name too, Bucky. You let your eyes roam his body again, your mind starting to run wild with impure thoughts of you and him. It’s been a while.

“There you go again.” He tuts, shaking his head as mischief dances in his blue eyes.

You shrug, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. You lick your lips, pushing out your chest as his eyes dip from your face to your proud breasts. You tilt your head back and swallow the rest of your drink, never taking your eyes off of his. You push away from the bar and move through the sea of people, turning your head slightly to toss your eyes back at him as the current song blends into one of your favorites.

You work your way onto the congested dance floor and start to sway to the beat that pounds through your body. The strobe lights dance with the music, shrouding everyone in vibrant colors before going dark again, leaving you all in a quick darkness before illuminating again. You feel a pair of strong hands slip around your waist but you don’t bother to turn around, you know it’s him. He moves with you; slow at first. Pulling your hips back into his, the two of you develop a rhythm of your own.

You slide your hand up your body and push your fingers into his soft hair as he tightens his grip around your waist. His stubble scratches at your cheek and jaw as you grab a fist full of his hair. You grind your ass into him, biting your lip as your skin begins to warm. The song dissolves into another and the strobe lights change, brighter colors splashing against your skin. The beat thumps, pounding through chest and bones as you instinctively begin to move faster.

A quick kiss, if that’s even what you want to call it,  just below your ear, pushes your chin and head up toward the ceiling. His lips don’t move once they’re placed on your skin, they just linger there for a moment as he breathes against you. One of his hands travels from your hip and up your side, fingertips grazing over your breasts until his fingers grip your neck. It’s a loose hold as he slides his open mouth down to your shoulder. Your breath hitches. A thin sheen of sweat springs to your skin as your nipples tighten at the sensation of his rough hand.

You turn suddenly, your eyes bouncing back and forth between his as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You move out of his grasp and he stands, staring. You zig-zag your way to the back of the club and nearly fall into the bathroom, cursing lightly under your breath. You slam the ill-fit door, using your body to push it  fully closed before you move to the sink. You lean against it, dropping your head a little before throwing it back to face yourself in the mirror. You turn on the water and dip your hand underneath the stream before bringing your fingers to your neck to cool yourself down.

The door scrapes along the frame, snapping your attention to it. A pair of polarizing eyes find yours as he enters. You watch him shut the door and lean against it, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares back at you. You turn your attention back toward the mirror, shrugging out of your jacket and letting it fall to the ground with a thud, exposing your cropped tank top. You feel his eyes searing into you as you reach forward again, wetting your fingers with the cool liquid and bringing them to your neck.

You let the water drip down your chest, watching as it disappears between your cleavage, wetting your white tank top. You repeat the action, tilting your head to the right as your wet fingers glide along your neck and down into your shirt. Bucky moves from the door, your eyes linked with one another as he comes to a stop behind you. He’s so close you can feel his chest against your back. He sets his half empty beer on the porcelain sink with a clink, and sweeps your hair up in his hands.

He leans forward, dipping his lips and nose to your skin, “I like these.”

His voice is low and soft as he admires the tattoos that cover most of your exposed skin. Your arms, your chest, your stomach, all littered with ink from over the years, each one telling a different story. You smile as he brings his lips in full contact with your shoulder, planting a firm kiss against your skin. He pulls you into him, backing you right up against his chest as his hands encircle your waist and skim along your taute stomach. He reaches up into your shirt, his long fingers tracing the lining of your bra. You rest your head on his shoulder and let him bare your weight, a lazy smile spreading on your face as your eyelids grow heavy with lust.

His nimble fingers work themselves inside your bra, brushing against your nipple, bringing the thick skin to full attention. His other hand pushes into your jeans, his index finger tracing the top of your thong before moving back up to flatten against your stomach. He kisses your neck, his lips soft and pink under the muted lighting of the bathroom. His teeth scrape against your skin as his hand dips into your jeans again, this time pushing underneath the lace thong. His fingers slide between your wet lips and you inhale sharply, pushing your face up toward the ceiling.

The hand in your bra tweaks your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he rubs your engorged clit. He bites down on your shoulder unexpectedly, causing you to jump and gasp as pain and excitement floods through your veins. Officer Friendly. You bring your hands to the button of your jeans, fumbling around until the zipper is down and the button is unclasped before you lean forward to rest your hands on the sink. You bow your head, your hair falling around your face, obstructing your view as he backs away from you.

The sound of his zipper causes you to snap  your eyes toward the mirror again. His hands push along your sides as he grasps your hips and pulls you back into him. You watch him in the mirror, his head tilted down, his mouth hanging open as he slides the tip of his cock along your folds. You shiver. He slides his hand up to the small of your back, flattening it, before he pushes his girth into you. You rock forward with his intrusion, slamming your eyes shut as he buries himself to his hilt in you. You let out a breath through your teeth as your body spreads for him, taking him all.

His warm hand moves to your shoulder, where he squeezes gently as he starts his pace. It’s slow and deliberate at first as he gets to know you. He pulls nearly all the way out of you, leaving just an inch of himself inside of you before he pushes all the way back in, a low grunt escaping through his teeth each time. Once he’s used to you, your tightness, he quickens, his fingers squeezing your hip and shoulder harder. You push back into him, your body eager to match his excitement.

Within minutes you’re crashing against each other with reckless abandon, filling the bathroom with the sounds of your sex. Skin slapping against skin, grunting, moaning, unintelligible words mix and mingle with the muted club. You hang onto the sink, your fingertips white, as he slams into you from behind. His rough fingers leave your hip and slip to your wet sex, rubbing quick circles against your throbbing clit. You reach behind to grab his hip, digging your fingernails into his skin as his hips jerk. Your stomach is tight, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as a shiver rips up your spine, each thrust stroking your G- spot.

He pulls your hair roughly, craning your neck back as you let out a grunt. You flex your fingers against the sink as he pushes you against it, his desperation to come speeding his hips. The dull ache of your orgasm sits in your stomach. You slam your eyes closed and hang on as it starts to build. His grip tightens in your hair, nearly pulling you up straight as he crashes into you. He brings his mouth to your neck, kissing you sloppily before he bites down again, this time harsher, rougher. You squeal, exciting him more.

One more yank of your hair, another slam from his hips and you erupt like a volcano. You hiss and mewl, writhing against his chest as his fingers and cock pull your release from you. Your walls tighten, your clit pulses as your orgasm washes over you and soon, you feel his warmth filling you as he empties. Hot ribbons of his seed splash against your insides as he falls forward, pushing you down to the sink with his weight.

He flattens his forehead on your back, his hot breath bathing your skin as his hips finally slow to a stop. Your eyes are still closed, his and your heavy breaths mingling together as your bodies rest against one another. A loud knocking rips into the bathroom, breaking the moment between the two of you.

He leans up, “Yeah, yeah. One second.” He breathes, pulling out of you.

You’re suddenly empty and you miss him already. You stand up straight, pushing your mussed hair off of your forehead and out of your eyes as he brings his dark jeans back up on his hips. You do the same, zipping your jeans and grabbing your leather jacket from the ground and slide your arms back into it. He waits for you before pulling open the door, letting you out first before following behind you toward the bar.

“Two bourbons, please.” He orders, resting a hand on your lower back as you lean against it.

You drop your elbows to the bar, encircling your head with your hands and arms before resting your fingers on your lips, another smile pulling at them. Two glasses are slid your way and you both down the hot liquor, knocking your heads back at almost the exact same time.

He turns to you afterward, a soft, almost shy smile covers his lips. You smile back, cocking your head to the side as you bite your bottom lip. There isn’t really a need for any words. You’re both adults, you both had fun, but it’s over now. His eyes slide down to your lips before moving back up to you.

He reaches his hand toward you and you accept it again, “Thanks for arresting me, Officer Bucky.”

He laughs, dropping his head a little, “Ah, the pleasure was all mine. Stay out of trouble, hm?”

“I’ll certainly try.” You coo, as he lifts your hand to plant a kiss.

You watch as he nods toward you and then pushes away from the bar, disappearing into the glob of people. Days pass. You’re back in your apartment, throwing your dirty laundry into the basket that rests on your hip. You throw the small box of detergent into the basket and slip your feet into your flip flops as you hum along with your airpods. You move out of your apartment, and skip down a couple of flights of stairs and push your way into the laundry room.  You stop in your tracks as a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back at you.

You smile wide and pull one of your airpods from your ear, “So who’s following who, huh?”

Bucky matches your smile, his eyes dancing with delight, “I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.”

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Wanna try Debriel? - it’s 3am, in the dead of winter, some motherfucker pulled/set off the fire alarm and I am being very vocal about how I’m gonna make that fucker pay

Dean storms out of his room, a saucepan in his hand - that isn't his intended weapon, but he's been clutching it so tight since he woke up with a jolt, that he'd forgotten he was still holding it. But a saucer in the face, classic Tom&Jerry style, has still gotta hurt, right? And that's all Dean wants to do right now. Hurt the sonuvabitch he apparently shares a building with, who pulled the fucking fire alarm at 3 in the morning, on 7-am-lectures Thursday - when Dean had finally, finally gone to sleep.

Still mostly bleary, and using more than half of his concentration to avoid stepping on the various kinds of crap you find in a college dorm's hallway, he yells as he paces towards the source of the ringing, that is currently mashing his brains up for breakfast. “You should be really glad I’m so tired, 'cause otherwise you would be," Dean has to pause to collect his thoughts, because dammit, he was still half-asleep. "Uh, in pain! Yeah!" The fire alarm didn't get any less harsh on his ears, so he yelled louder. "Lots of Pain. EXCRUCIATING pain." He sighs, running out of his trail of thought, and wondering how he's managed to forget the art of threatening in his sleep-riddled state. "Bitchfuckerasshole -" He mutters, but it's more like he's practising, than he's actually meaning it.

At this point, he's reached the landing of their floor, but that's not where the alarm's ringing at apparently - their fire alarm sits there, untriggered, like a fire alarm should stay. It must be the floor above them, then.

Dean has to take the stairs - he considers climbing two at a time, but then his instincts don't let him, and instead he resumes his shouting. "Just you fucking wait," He growls, to no one in general. "I'm gonna find your name and your address and sit outside your house every night for the rest of my life - because the fucking moment you fall asleep, I'm gonna set off the fire alarm beside your bed, you assbutt!" He doesn't even register that he's quoting Cas; in his own head, he's being scary and his threatens must have driven the bastard away, because by the time Dean has reached the second floor, he can't see anyone in the hallways.

"They got scared," He decides, and keeps on marching towards the common area, where the fire alarm is - because that still just fucking keeps on ringing. That is fodder, and Dean just goes on yelling. Some part of his brain which has gotten woken up - partly due to the ringing, and partly due to his own yelling - is asking him to stop spouting these ridiculous threatens at this point, but Dean isn't done. College, the company he keeps, and sleep deprivation is really bringing out a whole new side of him. "Oh, I will highlight your whole textbook - and every bitching one of them, too; in BRIGHT PINK HIGHLIGHTER, YOU FUCKING FUCKER - hnghh - "

Dean has to stop abruptly, as he trips over something (that he probably would've noticed, if he hadn't been yelling at the top of his range) and stumbles almost completely - landing on all fours, to prevent smashing his face.

"Fuck." He says, eloquently - finally completely awake - and looks at what had caused his fall.

Oh, well. It's Gabriel.

He'd been sleeping against the wall - seriously, who does that, sleeping in the hallway, just like that - hugely slumping, with his legs stretched in the front like how you make snow angels - and with a neon yellow bag slung over his shoulders, for reasons which Dean certainly didn't care about.

And now he's stirring awake himself, and rubbing at his eyes and yawning something terrible - but Dean's eye is caught by the bright red peeking from behind Gabriel, and he is instantly shoving Gabriel to the side, as he fixes the fire alarm harshly, and then falls back on the ground.

"Fucking destroyer of sleep," He mumbles at the fire alarm, glaring at it pointedly, and that's when he notices that when he's pushed Gabriel to the side, the blond apparently used it as an opportunity to lie down sideways and has proceeded to curl himself like a cat, back to sleep.

Dean rolls his eyes at him, needlessly.

He hardly feels any sympathy at all for the guy - after all, he was clearly the one who'd set off that stupid alarm, by using it as a backrest as he slept in the fucking hallway.

But then he can't exactly leave him out here either, the floor is filthy and cold and he could wake up having contracted some major-ass disease, and though he'd been responsible for waking him up at the ass-crack of dawn after Dean had slept after 48 hours; he was still stupid Gabriel from a lot of Dean's classes, club memories (and dreams.) He sucks in general, but Dean doesn't want him to die.

So he does the next best thing, and shakes him harsh enough to wake up a fossil. But Gabriel just stirs again, and swats at Dean in his sleep, and Dean gets a hand in his face for all his noble effort.

He blinks.

And then does it again. This time, yelling directly in his ears, as he shakes him by his arm. "HELLO! Gabriel! I'm Dean, and if you fucking swat at my face again, I'm going to steal only your left sock for the rest of your life." He pauses, the moment the words leave his mouth. Did he just say that? What even - what had sleepiness done to the part of his brain which was responsible for threatening, because god-frigging-dammit, Dean Winchester had forgotten how to swear.

But surprisingly enough, this time, Gabriel gets up. And it's not even the gentle softly opening eyes - the fucker shoots straight up, and is standing next to Dean in a jiffy, looking overly frightened for the sake of his footwear.

"You're weird." Dean tells him, with a frown. "And we need to stop spending time together, because you're making me weird."

Gabriel seems to still be recovering from shock, of Dean's threat - but when he does speak again, it's in a slur. "Nah! We need to spend more time together, because you're finally speaking the language!" He drawls the vowels at the end, hands gesturing animatedly as he speaks, and Dean raises his brows.

He's clearly drunk.

"Gabriel?" Dean says, cautiously. "Can you follow my finger?"

"To the end of the universe, and back." Gabriel returns, perfectly solemn, and a part of Dean fucking melts at that, but he's completely certain that he's drunk now. Somehow it doesn't show in his eyes - his somehow golden eyes, like that should even be actually true - but he's clearly drunk. "Next." He says, with a funny lopsided grin, and it looks like he's grinning so hard that he almost falls over - Dean has no idea how that works, but he holds him up, only to realize how wobbly he is on his feet.

Dean sighs, because Gabriel is now staring at him for more questions or something. But also obliges, with a smirk. "Uh, do you regularly indulge in drunk-sleeping-in-the-hallway or did you get roofied, Gabe?"

"I did it myself." Gabriel says, inexplicably, and Dean rolls his eyes another time.

Well, fuck it. There's only one way he can go with this. Obviously he's not piling the idiot back on the floor, so he's got to drop him off at his room.

Good thing, Dean knows that Gabriel is roommates with that silver-blonde accented jackass, who knows how to get really awesome booze, and hits on pretty much everything that moves. His name was something like 'Zar', or whatever - Dean never really paid attention. But he does know what room he's in, because of last month's party, so they're in luck - because Dean suspects, that Gabriel was only sleeping against the wall because he didn't know how to get to his room.

"C'mon, there." Dean frowns, as Gabriel turns, and Dean's hit by the sweet scent of alcohol. "You're going to bed."

"Okay." Gabriel agrees, easily, and doesn't say a word for another minute, as Dean picks up his ridiculously loud, neon backpack himself, and curses himself internally for having such low tolerance for disturbing sounds in the night - or it could've been someone else doing this stuff, and getting this useless heap to bed, while Dean could've waited for someone to take care of the alarm or the building to burn down - as he slept.

Then, as Dean comes back to Gabriel, and gives him a nudge to get him walking, he sees Gabriel lean to the side dangerously - on the verge of falling.

"The hell," Dean groans. "He won't even be able to walk."

Gabriel seems to have heard this, over his humming of We Will Rock You, which started god-knows-when. His head cocks up, and he stares at Dean with his intoxicated, wide eyes. "I really won't."

Dean waits for him to finish.

"You should pick me up."

Dean balks - because no way he's doing that, right? - but the moment Gabriel suggests it, he can feel his ears grow warmer, and some part of his brain trying to convince the rest, that that would've been a really great idea.

"You're big and strong," Gabriel coaxes, and the sweetness dripping from his voice is most-parts sarcasm - but that doesn't stop Dean from proceeding to blush. "And the only reason I didn't grow past 5'7 is because I was preparing for times like this."

Dean wants to say something cheeky, along the lines of 'should've kept a lookout for the weight too', but he's too busy in his own head, and just says, "Shuddup."

"Awh, Dean-o," Gabriel drawls. "You know you want to."

And that's the final straw, because of course he doesn't want to - why would he even want to do something like that, ever, for someone like Gabriel - and instead, he pushes his arm around Gabriel for support and to hold him in place, and begins to walk.

"I'll drag you then, you jackass," He mutters, squinting at the numbers on the doors while he tries to find the room.

"This is fun." Gabriel chuckles, as if he'd still gotten what he wanted - as he puts in no efforts whatsoever to help, and lets Dean carry both their weight ahead. "We should do this more often."

"Well, fuck that, and fuck you." Dean tells him kindly, and fucking finally gets to the room. He knocks sharply, but the door doesn't open in any hurry, but when it does, it reveals a grouchy Balthazar - Dean remembers his stupid name, the second he sees the guy; it's a skill - and he's dressed in a pink silk nightshirt and boxers with boxers drawn on them.

What a pair of fucking weirdos, Dean rants to himself, as he glares at Balthazar for all his roommate's faults. Made to room with each other. "Here! I'm done being a gentleman!" He made a move to hand the clinging man at his side over - but there were no moves made to receive him.

"I thought he was going to be sleeping at Kali's," Balthazar mumbles, making space for Dean to enter. Dean does, swallowing at the name, and momentarily forgetting that he was planning on abandoning Gabriel the moment he's crossed the threshold to his room or whatever. "Well. They must've broken up again. Pfft." Balthazar finishes mumbling to himself, and turns to Dean. "Just, uh, put him on his bed, will ya?"

"Do I look like a fucking carrier pigeon?" Dean glares, but goes ahead to do it anyways - because Gabriel has gone all silent, and Dean suspects it's because he's fallen asleep. "Goodnight, you massive idiot." He murmurs, because why shouldn't he, pushing the weight off of himself and on the bed. Gabriel has indeed gone back to sleep, right whilst Dean had been dragging him to his room - and so Dean stops glaring as of then, as puts his feet up on the bed too.

With a final look at the small, sleeping figure, and resisting the urge to smile - he walks back to Balthazar.

"Thanks for bringing him back, I guess." Balthazar mutters, and he's already getting back in bed, not even caring of the fact that there's another person right there. "Just 'cause you're such a nice guy, putting him to sleep with his feet on the bed and all that, I'm not even gonna ask you why you're bringing him back this late." He ends, winking.

"He fell asleep in the hallway." Dean rolls his eyes, not minding the suggestion in Balthazar's sentence, and completely ignoring the innuendo. "I found him sleeping with the fire alarm, for fuck's sake."

"Big spoon, little spoon?" Balthazar asks, without missing a beat - and Dean snorts, nods an acknowledgement and walks out of the room which clearly houses the weirdest people of his year; and proceeds to go back to bed, and sleeps really peacefully for another three hours - which in the kind of life college kids live, is saying something.

***

Tagging: @petrichoravellichor @rauko-is-a-free-elf (the next one is gonna be a prompt of yours uwu thanks again) @flickering-oracle @hellfire37 @3dg310rdsupreme @shejustcalledmeafish @impulsivedandelion @screamatthescreen (the cookiehana one will be the one after this, I swear) @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @moderatelypanickedbiromantic