#and that he's not at all ashamed to admit it

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

shower sounds

It was wrong. It was immoral.

But Simon 'Ghost' Riley couldn't help himself. He just couldn't.

You were his neighbor. His sweet, smiling, food-bringing goddess next-door. You had shared conversations with him, a few bottles of wine from time to time, too many cookies for him to count- you shared walls with him.

For the most part, the walls you shared with him weren't a problem. Sometimes you had your TV volume up too loud, sometimes you sang a bit too loudly to whatever music you were listening to, but that never bothered Simon.

Sometimes he could hear your cat jump up to her cat tower. He could always hear (and sometimes feel the vibration) when she would launch her chubby self up to the tower, and the tower would always knock against the wall you shared with Simon. It made him scoff quietly every time. He had a fondness for that fat cat, whether he would admit it out loud or not.

Maybe her owner, too.

His excellent hearing was partially to blame, so he never made it to be a big deal. He never wanted you to know he heard you that much, didn't want to make you feel bad for some reason.

And those noises really weren't all that bad. In fact, he looked forward to hearing those mundane sounds. Sometimes a cupboard would close a bit too loudly; he never imagined you being the type to go randomly slamming cupboards shut, and he would wonder if you were alright. If he didn't hear anything else, he wouldn't worry as much.

It was a different kind of noise that Simon 'Ghost' Riley was bothered by that came from your unit. Noises, rather. And it was always one kind of noise that led to another…

The first time it happened, he felt almost ashamed of himself. Almost. Maybe he'd be more full of shame if he hadn't felt so damn good after.

Simon had been lounging on one end of his couch, TV remote in hand. He was switching between channels when he heard the familiar sound of your shower turning on. 

There was always this almost ringing-like sound that would come through the building's old pipes when the water was on, especially in the showers. The sound was always the same when the shower turned on, though if you adjusted the spray of the shower head, it would become higher or lower pitched depending on the intensity of the stream of water.

He heard you turn on some music before he could hear the shower curtain being drawn back and forth as you probably stepped into the shower, naked-

Simon shook his head, trying to focus back on the task at hand, picking something to watch on TV.

But there was nothing on.

He decided to give up on that. Right after his television went black, he heard the familiar high pitched noise of the building's old plumbing go up a few levels.

Simon wouldn't have thought anything of it if his apartment hadn't been dead quiet, and if he hadn't heard a small moan through the shared wall between you.

Simon's eyes widened as he listened, his ear turned towards the wall now so he could listen more closely. He could hear the harsh spray of your showerhead, his mind racing with what you could be using it for and where the stream was being directed on your body.

He felt a spark of something, and his body began to respond to the intimate sounds you were making that echoed into his apartment through the wall. His breathing began to slow and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds. He could hear your soft whimpering and short gasps even clearer now.

A lump began to form in his throat as his body continued to react, his heart racing with excitement. His hand instinctively went to his groin, his fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal. He knew he shouldn't be standing there, his ear on the wall between you, his eyes closed, listening to you pleasure yourself in the shower-

But he just couldn't help himself. The sounds were drawing him in, making him feel like he was part of something intimate and-

Simon's eyes snapped open, and he moved away from the wall, trying to compose himself. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by listening to his sweet, adorable, sweets-and-food gifting neighbor getting herself off in the shower. He needed to put some distance between you. He needed to get out of there, to clear his head and calm down.

He had taken the first step to move into another room when he heard a faint whisper through the wall.

"Oh, yeah..."

Back against the wall he was.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was stuck, his ears glued to the wall, listening to the sounds coming from the other side.

The sounds were getting louder, and Simon could hear you more clearly now. You were whimpering and moaning, your breathing a little shallower now.

He continued to listen, unable to move away. His breathing was ragged and sharp, his body reacting to every single noise on the other side of the wall.

Simon's hand went back down to the waistband of his jeans, his fingers tracing the material. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he realized what he was about to do, but he didn't stop himself.

He unbuttoned his jeans, his hands moving urgently as he listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the wall. He was getting more and more turned on as he heard your moans and whimpers growing louder, the sounds getting more frequent.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement, his other hand grasping his already rock-hard length.

He stroked himself slowly, his hand still pressed against the wall, his ear inches from the spot where your voice seemed to be coming from.

His eyes closed once more as he imagined what you might look like, pleasuring yourself in the shower, as he stroked his throbbing cock, already glistening at the tip with precum.

To keep his own pleasured sounds from getting too loud, in fear that you would hear him and maybe stop, he bit down on his own tongue, quickly tasting copper in his mouth as a muffled groan escaped his lips.

He imagined you in the shower, how wet you must be in so many ways, how slick your skin was as you touched yourself, and how much you wanted this, needed this release just as desperately as he did.

With a low growl, he began pumping his shaft faster, harder as he imagined your wet skin, your curves, your breasts, your ass... He could picture it all so vividly, thanks to the erotic symphony playing through the thin wall separating them.

He was stroking his thick, angry cock faster now, his hips rocking slightly, the sound of his own heavy breathing mingling with the distant echoes of your pleasure-filled cries.

"Fuck," he heard you whisper breathlessly before letting out a soft whine. You were getting close. He could tell.

So was he.

The sound of your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Simon found himself matching the rhythm of your strokes, pumping his own cock in time with your breathy pleas.

His grip tightened around his shaft, the veins bulging as he worked himself closer to the edge. The image of you touching yourself, lost in pleasure, fueled his desire, making him ache to be inside you.

He could almost taste you on his tongue, feel your slick heat enveloping him as he thrust deep. The fantasy was so real, so intoxicating, that he swore he could smell the sweet musk of your arousal carried through the thin partition.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as he quickened his pace, chasing his impending climax. Precum dripped steadily from the tip of his cock, leaving a sticky trail on his fist as he pumped faster, harder.

Then, he heard what he had been waiting for most of all, a sound he knew was coming but wasn't sure what exactly it would sound like. And it was more delicious than he could have ever imagined.

He heard you cry out through the wall, in the shower, as your orgasm washed over you. He really hoped that your sound of released pleasure distracted you enough to not notice his own.

Simon's entire world narrowed to the sound of your climax, a whine that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of his reality. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and it shattered his last semblance of control.

He knew he was about to be loud. He needed to do something, fast, that wouldn’t mean biting his tongue or lip off-

Simon bit down on his clothed arm as he came undone, his orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane while the pain from biting his own arm threatened to tip the scales of pain and pleasure towards the former, but maybe that made him like it even more. Hot spurts of cum spurted from his cock, painting the wall he leaned against in thick, viscous streaks. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the aftershocks, his vision flashing white behind clenched eyelids.

When Simon finally returned to Earth, he was left looking at the aftermath of his actions as he caught his breath, breathing in and out with his eyes closed, still listening intently through the wall just in case you had any more delicious sounds in you.

masterlist

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Jealous triple s, and how they deal with it, would they be insecure? Would they be unbothered?

take your time!

Jealous Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic’s confidence is one of his most defining traits, but when he gets jealous, that cool, carefree demeanor takes a serious hit. He’s usually so sure of himself, it’s part of his charm. But when someone else starts vying for your attention? That’s when cracks begin to show.

It starts small. You’re chatting with someone else, and Sonic catches sight of your laugh, the way your eyes light up. He doesn’t like how that person leans in a little too close or how their hand lingers just a moment too long. Sonic doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s... uncomfortable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice cuts through the conversation, loud and bright. He zips up to your side, arm slinging around your shoulder in an overly casual gesture. "Whatcha talkin’ about? Anything cool, or is it just boring stuff?"

He flashes his signature grin, it sidnt reach his eyes tho as he just stared at them. The other person gets the hint, offering a polite excuse to leave, and Sonic is immediately all over you.

"Phew! Thought I’d have to rescue you from that snoozefest." He laughs, but his eyes linger on your face, searching. "You’re not, like, too close with them, are you?"

If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll deny it, waving it off with a sheepish chuckle. "Jealous? Me? Nah, I’m way too cool for that." Before speeding away to not have to deal with his problems.

Despite his bravado, Sonic can’t help but feel a little insecure. What if he’s not enough? He’s fast, adventurous, and fun, but is that all you see him as? These thoughts are fleeting, though, because Sonic doesn’t like to dwell on negativity. He’s quick to bounce back, reminding himself that no one can match his charm.

When his jealousy peaks, he doubles down on his efforts to impress you. He’ll drag you on adventures, race you to the nearest horizon, and show off every trick in his arsenal. Sonic wants to be the one who keeps you smiling, even if it means pushing himself a little harder to outshine everyone else.

Shadow:

Shadow’s jealousy is a bit more on the intense side. He’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, far from it, but he lets himself relax more around you, he valies you for that.

He notices everything, the way someone’s eyes linger on you, the subtle changes in their tone, and how easily they make you laugh. Shadow doesn’t say anything at first, but his silence speaks volumes. His eyes narrow, his body language stiffens, and the air around him grows thick with tension.

"Do you enjoy their company?" he asks you one evening, his tone calm but icy. It’s not an accusation, but the question seemed like a trap.

If you assure him that you’re just being polite or that it’s nothing serious, Shadow nods, but the thought lingers in his mind. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much, why the thought of others spending more time with you makes him ache.

Shadow isn’t one to act out of insecurity, but jealousy brings out a possessive streak he can’t quite control. He’s not above making his presence known, standing just a little too close to you when someone else is around or fixing them with a withering glare that sends them running.

"0You don’t need them," he tells you firmly, his voice low. "You have me."

Shadow’s jealousy stems from his fear of losing the one person who makes him feel "human",(mobian? Idfk anymore man :(.) grounded. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he worries that someone else might give you something he can’t. After all, he’s not the most expressive or affectionate person, and sometimes he wonders if that’s enough for you.

If you reassure him, Shadow relaxes, his usually stone cold exterior softening. "I don’t want to lose you," he admits quietly, almost ashamed of his own weakness.

While Shadow tries to keep his jealousy in check, it occasionally slips out in subtle ways.

Silver:

Silver is naturally anxious, and jealousy only amplifies that side of him. He’s not used to navigating these kinds of emotions, so when he sees someone else getting a little too friendly with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

At first, Silver tries to ignore it, convincing himself that he’s overreacting. "They’re just being nice," he tells himself, but the knot in his stomach says otherwise. He starts overthinking everything, what if they’re better for you? What if you realize he’s not enough?

You notice how quiet he gets, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by uncertainty. When you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates before blurting out, "Do you like them more than me?"

Silver immediately regrets his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I just... I don’t want to lose you."

His honesty is endearing, even if his jealousy is a little misplaced. Silver doesn’t want to control you or keep you from talking to others, but he can’t help feeling like he has to prove himself.

If his jealousy gets the better of him, Silver might become a bit clingy, always wanting to be by your side. "Can I stay with you for a bit?" he asks, his voice soft and hopeful.

Silver’s jealousy isn’t rooted in possessiveness but in his fear of not being good enough. He looks up to you, admires you, and sometimes he wonders what you see in him. But your reassurance means the world to him.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Silver says one day. "I just want to make sure I’m the best for you, too."

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I like how he doesn't beat around the bush here. Neve teases him a bit, telling him, "Rook's good for you," because she's caught him smiling to himself, and not for the first time, it sounds like, and he doesn't hesitate for a second to say, "Yeah, true."

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 7

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason asks you out, maybe. Red Hood helps you get ready.

Note: This chapter is a little bit longer than the others and we get both Jason and Red Hood in one chapter. Reader is slowly becoming the queen of denial. This is lowkey from life experience with boys who won’t say things straight to the point but vaguely beat around the bush. Anyways enjoy!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The next month goes by like a whirlwind. How time flies when a vigilante is coming in through your window a few times a week and a cute boy walking you home the other days of the week. After a week and a half of coming in and eating your food, Red Hood admitted he needed to change his patrol. He looked a little ashamed and when you asked why, he said that Oracle (whoever that was) had gotten on to him about showing his face in the same location at the same time every night. You nodded in understanding and asked if you would ever see him again. His lip had quirked, and he said he would see you in three days. Then he explained, teasingly, that he would just be coming by less than every day. You had flushed and left him at the table to put away leftovers. You could hear him laughing under his breath as you walked away.

It was strange. You didn’t know what to call your and Red Hood’s “relationship”, you were somewhat teasing friends. He was a good listener, even though you weren’t a talker. Your awkward moments had lessened, and you didn’t feel so tense around him. Every once in a while, he would do something, move his hand in a certain way, say a word or a sentence in a manner that was so, so familiar. When that would arise in your mind you would slam it into a jar, twist the lid tight, shove it into a dark corner of your mind never to be thought of again. You enjoyed having someone around. It made your life less boring. Even if that someone seemed to enjoy seeing your cheeks grow red.

Your time at work always seemed to drag on. Like time knew you were waiting to see someone. Jason, who used to come in once every two weeks-ish, started to come in various times throughout the week. He always parked his bike in the same spot in front of your building. You worried after the first two weeks, but you had noticed he was right, no one ever parked in that spot. You started to pay attention to it when you walked to work or home without him. Always Empty. You even checked the signage, and it was public parking. It was a good spot.

Darla had taken to giddily nudging you whenever he came in. Sometimes it felt like she was more excited to see him than you were. She hadn’t asked about any of your “romantic walks” which you were both shocked and happy about. You loved your walks with Jason. You asked each other things all the time and you had learned a lot about him. His favorite color was red (a comparison your mind made with Red Hood which was shoved into the jar and hidden again), he was Gotham-born and raised, and he liked chili dogs. When you admitted you had never liked chili dogs, he went on a spiel about how you couldn’t possibly be from the East Coast and that you just hadn’t had a good one yet. He yammered about what would constitute a good hot dog and therefore a good chili dog, explaining that you had to find the right hot dog cart and person to get it right.

You had nodded politely as you tried not to laugh but he caught the barest hint of your grin.

“What’s so funny, huh? Hot dogs are street food cuisine, don’t mock me for my good knowledge.” He said bumping his shoulder into yours as you walked. You finally let out a loud laugh to which he grinned at.

“It’s just a hot dog, Jason. I wouldn’t call it ‘cuisine’.” You say lightly bumping him back.

“It is cuisine. Get off your high horse, miss fancy pants. You need to have some experiences.” He teased. Oh, yeah, he and Darla had gotten into a conversation about you. They both decided you were lame and boring (in the kindest way possible).

“I’ll tell you what,” he continues, “I know the perfect hot dog cart to get a genuine chili dog. Let me take you there.”

Your strides slow till you stop completely, taking in what he just said. You stare at the sidewalk.

Is he asking you out? Or is this just like a friend thing? Are you friends? We’ve been walking not hanging out. Or does that count as hanging out?

Jason, noticing you had stopped, turned around to find you concentrated on the sidewalk, brows furrowed and a pout on your lips. He resisted doing several things.  Mostly the urge to pull you into a strong hug (and maybe press a kiss to the downturned corner of your lips but that is neither here nor there). In the time he’s been walking with you and eating your food in the middle of patrol, he’s learned that you overthink a lot, like a lot. You seem to get stuck in your head worrying about something. He presses a warm hand to the side of your arm, and you look up to meet his gaze with wide eyes.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want.”

You shake your head with a deep breath, “it’s not that. I would love to Jason; I like spending time with you but…” you pause and drop your eyes back down. He dips his head down to meet your eyes.

“But what sweetheart?”

Your heart races from a number of things. Sweetheart, his intent on eye contact, and your previous overthinking. If it was a date, he would’ve called it that, your friends.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you say shaking your head, brushing off your previous statement as you actively lock eyes with him, “Where is this famed hot dog cart?” your voice teases.

He stares at you for a moment like he’s assessing you, for what you’re not sure about, but when he does this, you almost feel naked. Your breath catches from the way it feels to be seen, instead of just looked at. He finally shrugs his shoulders and turns to keep walking. He stands beside you, and you feel him press a hand to the small of your back, reminding you to walk as well.

“It’s over by Robinson Park and the Knights stadium.”

“Ah, but of course, sports food.” You say, trying to ignore how much you miss his touch as it leaves your back. “I don’t have a car.”

He gives you an odd look, “That’s okay we’ll figure it out.”

That was last week, and your nerves were all over the place. This was your first real …hangout? Date? Whatever, as an adult away from family, you wanted to make sure you did everything right. It was decided that you would meet at Jackie’s and go to this perfect hot dog cart on his motorcycle. You still had a whole day until you were supposed to meet, and you decided you had nothing to wear. From the moment you got home, you were manic. You had quickly picked up and cleaned your apartment, so it looked nice (not that you were planning on bringing him here). Then you took the longest shower you had in a long time. You scrubbed everything and shaved then stressed about why you shaved (this wasn’t a date, and you were NOT bringing him home). You wrapped yourself in a fluffy robe and promptly went through your entire closet, bedroom now a mess of strewn clothes. You wanted to cry. Why did you have to overthink everything like this? It pissed you off sometimes. You needed help but who to call?

Your list of friends was abysmal, unfortunately. There was Darla (whose daughter just had a baby earlier in the week and you can’t drag her away from family like that), Jason (whose phone number you still didn’t have and whom you were going out with, so no), Steph (who had taken to showing up at Jackie’s fairly frequently when Jason wasn’t there but again no phone number), and Red Hood. What a sad, short list you have. You did not have Red Hood’s number, but you had a sneaky suspicion you would see him tonight. You hadn’t seen Jason today which usually means you would see Red Hood. A recurring note that you keep adding to your jar in the corner. You had opened your window up after your brisk cleaning and before your shower to let in some cool autumn air. You glance at your clock he should be here soon if he wasn’t already. Deciding you would make him help you get ready for your “hangout”, you stand from your slumped state and head for the living room.

Jason had had a very long day, and he just wanted to see you. Dick had been bothering him nonstop about your guy’s planned trip to Robinson Park. How he had known about that Jason didn’t know. (You had told Steph, and the information had spread quickly.) He had dealt with a few muggings in broad daylight and didn’t have time to visit you at work like he wanted to. Once he reached his roof across the street, he saw all the lights on in your apartment. A little odd but you might be cleaning again something you tended to do when you were stressed. Your window was open, which made him tense with worry. You weren’t supposed to leave the window open for him, just unlocked so it didn’t draw attention. He made quick work of grappling over and quietly landing on the fire escape, pausing to listen. It was quiet except for some soft music coming from your bedroom. He slides into the living guard on high alert, hand hovering over his gun. At that moment you enter the living room, clad only in a fluffy robe cinched tight at your waist, the hem of it resting above your knees. Your hair sitting unbrushed stringy and wet, sticking to the fabric.

“Oh, thank god you’re here” Clearly you weren’t very good at reading the room. Jason’s entire body seized for a moment. His natural gut instinct has him wrap his fingers around the gun in his thigh holster and he tamps down the urge to pull it out and search for a threat. The rest of him easily gets distracted by you despite your robe not being anywhere close to scandalous. You had it wrapped so tight the v of the collar pressed to your throat, the sleeves, long and covering your wrists. The only semi-scandalous part of it was the bottom hem. It moved as you walked, drifting below the knee and above the knee. He stays tense trying to get himself to stop staring but you do it for him. You wrap a hand around his wrist, pulling his own off his gun and attempting to drag him to your room.

“I desperately need your help, Red,” when he doesn’t so much as shift you add, “Please.” your worried tone snaps him out of his reverie. He’s lucky he still had his helmet on because he snaps his mouth shut from where he had been gaping at you.

“With what?” he says finally letting you drag him into your room.

“I have clothes, but I can’t figure out what to wear,” you say frustrated. He was shocked by the state of your room, clothes haphazardly thrown everywhere. Your home was usually pristine or on the edge of it.

“No offense, Sweetheart,” the affection pet name slips out before he can stop it, “but I’m not exactly the right person for this.” He says gesturing to himself. You pause in your movement, hand dropping from his wrist, and a moment of concentrated panic crosses your face for a split second and then it’s gone.

“I don’t have a lot of friends, Red, but you’re one of them and you’re here now. You have to help me. I don’t know what else to do.” Your voice has a hint of desperation but not panic and he can’t help but wonder about your earlier expression.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes, “but there’s no guarantee that I’ll be any help.” He brings his hands up and pops the latch on his helmet, sliding it off his head. You abruptly turn away as he does so, picking through a pile of clothes. He sets the helmet on the dresser and turns to watch you. Within the last week, you’ve been acting weird when he would do certain things, like taking off his helmet. You wouldn’t watch anymore, and you wouldn’t laugh at his double mask. More often than not, you’ve taken to busying yourself with something else and he tries not to take it personally.

“Why are we worried about clothes?” he asks, concern over you outweighing his personal feelings. You pause in your picking and turn back to face him as you tug on a wet strand of hair. You stare at the ground instead of looking at him.

“I have a date” you mumble so quietly he almost misses.

“oh” is all he says out of fear he’ll say too much. You think it’s a date? You’re worried about the date you’re going to go on with him. You wanted Red Hood to help pick out an outfit for your date with Jason. The same two people but now was not the time to tell you that.

His response makes you anxious (what else is new). You had already been worried about telling him about your date, not that it was a real date or that you were dating Red, he just seemed flirty. You assumed that meant he was into you, but you didn’t want to entertain the thought of dating a vigilante. That would go straight to hell in a handbasket, you were sure. You just hoped you hadn’t unintentionally led him on.

“Not like a date date.” You add, “Actually I think we’re just going to hang out.”

Jason suddenly realizes that you’re right. You two hadn’t discussed what this thing was and suddenly he thinks he’s not ready for a relationship, at least not with you. He likes you so, so much but you didn’t know each other. He was lying to you right now and that’s no way to come into a relationship. He pushes his own personal dilemma to the back of mind.

“What are you doing?” He decides he’ll help you if only to calm your nerves.

“What?”

“For the date. What are you doing?”

“Uh, hot dogs” you say a little dumbfounded that he’s even entertaining you.

“Hot dogs? Sounds lame.” Which Jason means full-heartedly, it’s not exactly what he had intended but it was the easiest thing he could’ve slipped into the conversation at the time. He just wanted to spend time with you outside of your normal routine.

“it’s not, I’m going to get a true Gotham experience, you know.” You defend Jason, to himself, and his lip quirks up at your tone, “I’m not from Gotham so it’ll be fun to do something different.”

He did know you weren’t from Gotham but not because you had told him. moved here like three years ago over some family drama. That’s what Tim had said but he never shared where from or what the family drama was. Not that he would want to learn that from Tim. He’s narrowed it down from not the east coast after you didn’t argue with him about it concerning the chili dogs. But that left whole lot of United States left to figure out.

“Alright, tourist,  let’s find something for you to wear.” Your nose crinkles at him calling you a tourist and he stares for a moment before looking back down at your current state of dress.

“Although I’m pretty sure you could just dress like this, and your ‘date’ would be happy.”

You look down at what you’re wearing and suddenly become aware of how indecent you. Your eyes widen as you start to push him out of the room you had just dragged him into.

“Out. Get out of my room!” You push the door shut behind him and lean back against it as you slide down the door burying your face in your hands. How embarrassing. You quickly dress in the most modest pajamas you have despite how warm you feel. You shamefully open the door with a warmed face. You don’t meet his eye as you apologize.

“don’t do that,” he stops you halfway through your mumble apology, “I should’ve said something earlier, but you seemed so stressed. I’m the one who should be sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

You finally look up and meet his mask. “it’s okay, I was stressed, and I’m still stressed. Will you still help me?”

His hand comes up to squeeze at your arm, and all you can think about is Jason. You pull out of his hold and back into the room, squeezing your eyes shut. Go into the jar and into the corner. Red Hood follows you and starts scanning your thrown clothes with hands on his hips. He finds, that despite the mess, there is a sense of organization. You turn to find him in a concentrated state, and you almost laugh at the sight of him. He glances up when he hears your giggle but focuses on the task at hand.

“Hot dog cart.” He mumbles, “Casual activity and outside.” He picks up a pair of black jeans from the ground. “Here” he tosses them at you. Even though they hit you square in the chest you almost fail to catch them. Jason laughs at the site, and you glare at him as he starts to go through your pile of shirts. He pulls out a blue t-shirt and gives it a disgruntled look before tossing it aside. He pulls out a graphic T and shows it to you.

You shake your head, “it’s just a t-shirt.”

He glances at it, “Yeah?” You roll your eyes.

“I can’t wear just a t-shirt. That’s too casual.”

“You’re going to be wearing a coat.” He says matter of factly.

“Yeah, but if I leave the coat open, he’ll see the shirt. It needs to look nice. Besides I don’t like how that shirt sits around my hips.”

He raises a brow at the comment. “Then why do you still have it?”

“What if I still want to wear it?”

“You just said you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, but I might like it later” he stares at you in confusion before he shakes his head.

“Whatever,” he says as he goes back to looking through your shirts. You sit on your bed as he looks and pull your brush from under a pile of dresses, vetoed due to the choice of transportation. You slowly comb through the wet knots of your hair as he pulls out random shirts that you shake your head at. He doesn’t get frustrated, just teases you about colors, and cuts that he didn’t know there were problems with. His focused energy calms your heart, and you wonder why ever got worked up in the first place. Just as you smooth through the last of your hair, he pulls out a long-sleeved maroon top. You set brush down and glance at the top and then to the jeans and nod satisfied.

“You should be a fashion consultant.” You say pleased as you tug the top out of his hands. He snorts at the comment.

“Got any leather jackets?” your brows furrow at the question.

“Why would I need a leather jacket?”

“Because-” he stops himself. You hadn’t told Red Hood that you would be taking Jason’s bike. That’s what you needed the leather jacket for. He panics for moment but covers it up quickly saying, “it’ll pull the outfit together?” He inwardly cringes. You laugh.

“You know, I was totally joking about the fashion consultant thing. I don’t own anything leather.”

We’ll have to fix that.  He thinks as he glances around the room. The no leather thing made sense. It wasn’t your style. She’d look going in it though his mind adds as he watches you. You lay out the shirt and top together before going to your dresser to pick through your jewelry box. You pull out a heart-shaped pendant necklace and show him. You don’t even ask him if it’ll match before he answers.

“That’d look good with it.”

You nod happily at the confirmation and go back to fish out some earrings as you ask, “Would you pick out a pair of shoes? They’re over by my door in the living room.”

He doesn’t respond as he leaves the room. With you no longer in the room with him, he takes a mental step back. He had just admitted to himself that he wasn’t ready for a relationship but another part of him can’t help but admit that he loves this. Being around you and helping you with whatever you need. Talk about conflicting emotions.

As he’s picking up a pair of boots you come into the room.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You glance at the boots he’s holding, “Good choice”

“Isn’t this what friends are for?” Jason asks as he hands the boots to you. He hates to admit to himself that the question is genuine. All his friends were other heroes and that doesn’t quite make for a normal friendship dynamic. You nod absentmindedly to his question as you drop the boots down the hallway to your bedroom.

“You want something to eat? I haven’t made anything but I’m sure I have a good microwave meal.” You ask as you head for the kitchen.

“Don’t’ worry about it. I should get going.” He takes a few steps towards the window and you follow. “You should keep your window shut.”

“I need fresh air sometimes, Red.” You say with a playful lilt.

“Yea, yea. Shut your window.” He says as he places a foot out the window.

You don’t comment but grin at him. His brows furrow as he looks at you.

“What?”

“You don’t have your helmet.” You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Leather glove meets his hair as he pats at his head. Sure enough, no helmet. He pulls his leg back in with a sigh. You stop him there with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll go get it.” Your hand leaves him as you briskly walk to your room. Jason shakes his head at himself. You really were a distraction. How could he forget his helmet? You come back into the room with a disgusted look on your face.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You should get this cleaned.” You say as you hand him the helmet. He stares at it.

“Why?”

“It smells like sweat and boy.” Jason snorts at the comment.

“That would be because I’m a sweaty boy.”

“Gross,” you say face scrunching up a little be more.

“You’re the one that wanted a better whiff of me, babe.” He says with a grin and pulls on the helmet. Unfortunately, you were right about the smell. You shove on his shoulder with warmed cheeks.

“Get out of my apartment you weirdo.” He puts his hands up in defense with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get out. Good luck with you’re not a date date.” He finally slides out the window and is gone as you grumble, “It’s not a date.”

You close and lock your window, turn off the obscene number of lights you left on, and collapse onto your couch. You're still worried about whether or not this thing with Jason was a date but your 30 minutes or so with Red Hood had seriously calmed your nerves. You were happy he was in your life even if he liked to tease you. You decide to watch some TV while you wait for your hair to air dry, pointedly ignore the mess that was your bedroom.

Additional Notes: I'm so happy because the characters are starting to feel a little more comfortable. And I have plans! I actually have plot planned now. I just need to get there. Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative

[clownfishofcrime]

WAUGH I didn't finish this... i was too ambitious... Batman is arresting Joker in front of catwoman and ComGor.  

Joker: So yesterday you fuck me like you love me and today you won’t even speak to me?! That’s fucked up, Batsy.  

  ComGor: You two fucked?!   Catwoman: hah! Called it   (smug to Gordon) you owe me $20  Gor: -hands catwoman 20-  

Bat: ... -facepalm-   ComGor: so, it’s true, Batman?  Catwoman to bats: No need to be ashamed. We all knew  Joker: -looks at bats-   -Skrungly bats-   Joker: well, say something!!!   Catwoman: It shouldn’t be a big deal for YOU to admit to some casual sex, right?   Unless of course it’s not so casual with him...   Joker: -laughs- You love me Batsy, don’t you?!  Bats: Shut it, Joker.   Catwoman: You have terrible taste in men, but I support you   Bats: -threatening- Catwoman...   ComGor: seems like you two have a lot to discuss, Batman. I trust you’ll eventually bring him to the GCPD for questioning and you catwoman (he turns around and she’s gone he sighs wanting to continue his conversation with bats but he too is gone)

[stillwithmeisonlyyou]

"Do you feel ashamed, when you hear my name?

...

Anyway don't be a stranger"

But it's Regulus to Sirius years after, because he's still broken inside from when his siri left him, but he has matured enough to admit he doesn't want him to be a stranger and they have missed so much of each other's life already. And it is all bittersweet.

[saragrosie]

As promised, incredibly stupid s4-5 drawings

[agostise]

he got sooo dramatic after getting to date mo smh

[octoir]

tomarry hot take: I actually don’t think Harry would even come close to defeating Tom in a duel

I think he COULD come close, with extreme levels of training and practice, but that classic “step into DADA and whoop Tom’s ass” scene? guys…I have something to confess.

Tom’s a fucking nerd.

he’s studied and practiced dark magic for years. he’s canonically regarded by DUMBLEDORE as the most brilliant student to ever walk through Hogwarts. Tom would DESTROY him.

imho the real fun of tomarry comes from the subsequent arc of Harry training to defeat him, and then actually coming close, and THEN Tom starts to become intrigued bc who the fuck is this semi-competent little shit?? and why is he now thinking about him all the time??

[quantum1mmortality]

Why is Jimmy kinda.. just a little bit...

[lameow-l]

GAMING IS MY SON AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM IM GONNA KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM AND THEN MYSELF!!

LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE

i still have hope in getting the other boys too

its ok they can be a band or smth.. at least then gaming wouldn’t have to be so disappointed in people not hiring him bc he’s just having fun with his boys…

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[myuminji]

So........ What about vash and ww from Badlands Rumble? 🥺

there issss 🥺🥺🥺

[chaos-bringer-13]

My brain just hit an old hyperfixation (is this what it's called? I hope I used the word right) and oh dear am I losing my mind now. I need to write a story I think. About this one old guy. He's unhinged. There's so much information about him and yet not enough. I want to explore his character so much. He's definitely a criminal - at least he was one - and I'm 95% sure he can do actual real magic, and he's a musician and an artist and an actor and a magician and a philosopher and a traveler and a conman and so much more and also I think he's some kind of immortal. Maybe he just has a VERY long life. It's strongly implied he was a pirate at some point of his life. He started a cult by accident several times. My conspiracy theories about him include him being a secret god.

He's also a freaking round blue raven. Someone save me from my mind.

[welcometogrouchland]

Finally saw Wicked today. I fear it is, in fact, actually all that and a bag of chips. Like it is genuinely that good

[kirkwallguy]

marcus doesn't even admit he's trans to his family he just expects them to figure it out themselves