#curly haired clark kent

[maiden167]

I know he can't technically get sunburnt (literally powered by the sun) but ignore it for the trend😅😅

[mostghst]

the james gunn superman-matt reeves batman superbat fics are gonna go so hard i just know it

[sunsburns]

i think i need to fuck clark kent

[1mm4d13]

What a silly guy (I’m so excited for this movie)

[dorodoroart]

both happy to see you (in their own ways)

(i am begging every existing deity that new Superman is a himbo please god)

[puppetmaster13u]

Been practicing different body types so have some DC guys

[dp-clarkjkent]

is your hair naturally curly?

Yes it is! I'd say they're more like waves than curls, though, it's only curly if it's too short.

[samiraky]

This brings up the question:does the suit come with automatic blow out/hair styling? Or he has to do it himself every time??(like bucky with eyeliner 😆😆)

Like he has to go to an emergency mission and he is late bc the left half of his hair is not straightened

Not gonna lie, I would also believe that Clark Kent and Superman are completely different people

[frownyalfred]

it’s just that one scene he has a weird double curl for some reason 😭

love his Clark Kent hair though the Superman look feels like they were conflicted? like they were trying to show he has to tame his curly hair but it just came out looking like he has straight hair except for that one little extra bouncy piece

Exactly! That’s not what slicked back curly hair looks like. That’s what happens when you style wavy/straight hair and then curl the front part VERY closely 🤣

[jewish-vents]

In the recent trailer for James Gunn's Superman they gave Clark Kent visible really curly hair, and I might be reading too much into it, but when you consider how heavely jewish coded the character was at his beginnings, how in a way he was concived as a subversion of the nazi wet dream of the übermensch but also how slowy DC has been forgeting/reading his roots. Seeing how in the upcoming adaptation which is meant to be a more uplifting and hopeful take of Superman, seeing his human/common day persona as a more heavely open jewish coded character nearly made me cry.

Dunno it may be an extremely small thing, it probably isn't even intentional. But as a jewish DC fan it made me really happy in these times.

.

[hencvl]

Mine. I [Remastered]

Dark! Clark Kent x reader. Warnings: dark fic, forced marriage.

Summary: you finished your night shift and you feel someone was following you.

A/n: sorry for any mistakes that i made, English is not my first language. I also don't give permission to post my works on any other platforms such as Wattpad, Ao3 etc.

my masterlist

series masterlist

read pt. 2 >

You curse under your breath as you walk down on the street, clutching tightly on your coat. It's 12 a.m at midnight, you just finished your shift and on your way to your apartment. You reluctantly use this route because it was the closest to your place.

You shiver as you feel the cold air against your skin, even if you are covered in many layers of coat, you can still feel it. Winters can be fun, but also can be annoying at the same time.

You checked your phone as it was buzzing, a message was sent from your roommate. You have been living with him for over a year now, yet both of you barely know each other.

Clark-

i leave some dinner leftovers in the fridge.

You-

Mkay.

You looked around as you felt someone following you from behind. You could feel an unknown presence since you left your workplace, yet you choose to ignore it.

You turn your heels around to see who it is, but only to find nothing. Suddenly, a hand covered your mouth to muffle your scream, your back was pressed against the stranger's chest

“whaa- help!”

You fight the figure, wiggling and squirming in his hold. You know you shouldn't be using this route at all! what the hell have you got yourself into. You kicked the stranger's ankle, but it was a futile attempt.

“stop resisting.” he spoke in a harsh tone, gripping you tightly. The last thing he wanted to do to you was hurting you.

No, you're too precious to him.

Instead, he took out a pad that he dabbed with Chloroform earlier, and slammed it on your nose, letting you breath the toxin.

“noo..ummf..”

Seeing you fall unconscious in his arms, he smirked as he caress the beautiful face of yours while engulfing your small figure in his warm embrace.

finally. Months of watching you from afar, admiring, longing for your touch and warmth he finally got to hold you in his arms. He would not let this opportunity to have you go wasted.

The man looked around the alley, afraid if someone did watch his deed. Once he was convinced that everything was clear, he looked back at her with a wicked grin.

“sleep tight, my bride”

-

You take a sharp breath as you blink, only to find yourself spawled on a soft mattress. You tried to move but failed, too exhausted as you lay back. The bed moved a bit as you heard a groan next to you, a muscled arm makes its way to your waist, bringing you closer to a toned bare chest.

You stayed still, telling yourself that it's just another nightmare. But it's not until you feel a warm breath fanning on your neck before he placed a soft kiss on it before whispering right into your ear.

“what are you trying to do, my dear?”

His voice is deep, whispering at you soothingly as he caresses your waist. He lifted himself and got on top of you, finally got to see his face.

You study his Adonis looks, from his curly hair, trailing down to his handsome face. His icicle blue eyes are the most beautiful things you've ever seen, so beautiful yet so cold.

His jawline is sharp, like you could hurt yourself just from tracing it. He let you stare at him. What a romantic scene it was. Like the beauty of flower petals formed from two colors, becoming one solid entity.

You couldn't help but gawk, how can someone be so fine like this? The thought left your mind immediately as he shifted from his position a bit, leaning closer towards you. He brushes his succulent lips against your cheek, like a predator finally gets to devour its prey.

“wait- who the hell are you? why am i here?” you said, as you sat up on the bed and backed up from him.

“you don't need to know.” he replied, groaning slightly as she made a distance between them. He wanted to hold her in his arms again and never let her go.

He tried to reach out to her again, grabbing her ankle and pulling her towards him with a squeal. Even though she tried to resist him, she seemed to be liking his touch.

A smirk made its way to his face, adding the handsomeness in his features that got her melted.

little did he know...

“argh!” he let out a pained groan at the sudden kick on his crotch. She kicked him hard in the balls that got him shaking slightly from the after effects.

You immediately jumped out of the bed, abandoning the mysterious man that was about to hold you captive and your backpack. That doesn't matter now. Your life matters.

Running down from the apartment, you look around trying to ask for help before the man comes and captures you again. Luckily there's a cab pulling up on the road once they saw you.

“this is madness!”

Taglist-

@rosecentury

[reinemichele]

Yeah okay, elementary school -> middle/high school -> adulthood; you can see that I had it the longest in middle/high school (though it doesn't seem That long due to shrinkage) and it was longer in 2021/2022 than it is now, it just seems long to my mom/brother because I had it short last year

This also documents the journey of my hair doing ??? whatever it wants

(The changes are most likely hormonal; as soon as I hit puberty at 8 my hair Exploded in curls/volume, and was impossible to tame no matter What I tried, and just as suddenly when I was 22 in 2020 it started to mellow out, and then after my hysterectomy in Nov 2021 my curl pattern/volume relaxed even more, plus I started bleaching/dyeing it)

😭 Okay so just as a preface, this is all lighthearted and I didn't take any of it personally, this is not like a complaint/vent post, but

For the past couple months my mom and brother have both been offering to help me cut my hair? And each time I've been like, uh no, bc I've been cutting my own hair since I was like 11

But earlier my mom complained about finding my hair all over the car and in her clothes, and that I have too much of it (to which I said "hey, you and dad both had very thick hair, and you still chose to procreate with him")

So I realized they're probably making these comments bc I cut my hair pretty short last year, and even tho I've had way longer hair in the past, now that it's growing back out they keep finding longer strands and feeling peeved . which, like I said, I'm not taking this personally; I also think my hair is annoying and itchy and gets everywhere, I just also don't want to get rid of it bc I like how having long-ish hair looks, and I think I'd be miserable if I didn't have an actual blanket keeping my ears/neck warm, cushioning my head when I have migraines, etc

[strawburry01]

We're Going to Be Friends

Summary: How Y/N and Aaron first start talking during their time in college (Aaron shouldn't be let into a lab)(also yeah, listen to the song when you read if you want)

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: I don't think anyone really noticed but I'm sorry this took a second longer than normal to get out. I just had a really weirdly abrupt and messy break up (?) and when I usually write I've just been sleeping but we are doing better now that that's been resolved but like- guys what the fuck? Anyway, this was nice to write to kinda get out of my head. Cheers xoxo

It was your first day in the forensics chemistry lab after waiting two years to even be let into the lab space. You held your bound lab notebook to your chest as you walked in alongside the rest of the class and took your places at the lab benches, silently picking your lab partners. You were with a wiry girl with big blonde curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Hey at least she looked smart- it meant you wouldn’t have to carry the two of you to an A grade. As the class waited for the professor to come in you couldn’t help but overhear the laughter from across the classroom. Your head looked up to the source of the noise only to see the grinning Aaron Hotchner looking at his lab partner. Aaron and you had been in many of the same classes but had never really interacted beyond the polite head nod when bumping into each other. Sure there was nothing wrong with him, in fact, there was a lot that was right with him. He was handsome, in a bit of a nerdy Clark Kent sort of way, always looking like he rolled out of bed effortlessly and threw him glasses on before running to class. He was also fairly nice when it came to the general population. The Criminal Justice pathway in uni was highly competitive so it often meant everyone was insanely cutthroat, but he was always offering hints and help to others you’d notice. He was smart, very smart, but was very humble about it, in a way that only someone watching him could really realize how much he knew, and unfortunately, you did. Not even purposefully, but your eyes always had a way of falling onto the back of his head in class. Perhaps it was because he was the most attractive man in the cohort, or perhaps it was because you were just so intrigued at his charm. 

The lab started and you were drawn from your thoughts as you tied your hair back and slipped on the snug safety goggles, glad that they even made everyone, even him, look a little bit dorkier. You and your lab partner (who you found out went by Jen), started setting up the titration and you pulled out your lab notebook to start writing the results down. The two of you small-talked about classes and movies as she slowly let the base solution drip into the acid, waiting for it to eventually turn pink. After running through a round you two switched positions and you leaned over as you tried to line up the new beaker under the buret. 

Swiftly there was a new figure besides you. At first you assumed it was the professor, about to harass you about some incorrect technique or form, but you were surprised to see it was Aaron. He grinned as he looked down at you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious about leaning over so far in front of the buret. You quickly snapped up, standing straight, focusing on the buret with a reddening face.

“You’re Y/N right?” he asked. How he knew your name was beyond you, you’d never really talked to him before beyond a few yes or no’s. 

“Yeah,” you answered, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, still intently focusing on the meniscus in the buret.

“Do you know where the sodium hydroxide is? I need some more,” he asked. 

“Um, it’s just over there, you should just have to pipette it into your beaker,” you said, pointing to the dark brown container kept under the chemistry hood. His mouth formed an ‘o’ as he slowly nodded looking over.

“I see, thank you!” he said in a chipper demeanor as he walked over. 

“What the hell was that about?” Jen asked, jumping onto anything other than the mundane topics. Your face reddened again as you didn’t even know what the hell that was about. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning to face her, but before she could elaborate Aaron was back.

“Hey Y/N have you used one of those automatic pipettes before?” he asked sheepishly, holding a still empty beaker. You finally turned to face him and looked up. God he really was tall, or were you just short…nevermind that all.

“Have you not?” you asked, a bit shocked he’d gotten this far without having been subjected to one in high school or the general labs. He grinned again shrugged,

“Think you can help a poor guy out?”. You felt your stomach do a bit of a flip as you mumbled some sort of an agreement under your breath. He handed you the beaker once you were at the sodium hydroxide and you tried to explain the process and how to use the pipette. He made sure to make a dramatic show of nodding before you handed him back his beaker. You handed him back the beaker and stared at him a second before rolling your eyes,

“You know how to do this you little-” you started going off at him before he grinned mischievously,

“You do it so good though!” he exclaimed and nudged your arm which did shut you up, “You always just seem like you know what you’re doing,” he added. 

“I don’t know about- ah- thanks,” you mumbled as you looked around the room, trying to avoid eye contact, not knowing where any of this was coming from. Has he really been paying attention to you this whole time? He thought you were smart? He thought you knew what you were doing? Was he complimenting you? He laughed and walked back to his lab bench as you went back to yours and apologized to Jen.

“You still don’t know what that’s all about?” she laughed under her breath as she pointed her pencil at you. Going back to the buret you shook your head.

“Honest to god I didn’t even think he knew my name,” you said, with a small smile, “he just wanted me to do his damn work for him though,”. 

Another hour later once the lab was about halfway done your feet started hurting from standing for so long. You regretted not wearing better ones, but how were you supposed to know… As you were stretching your back and trying to get comfortable you made eye contact with Aaron from across the lab. The goofball had a thing of sodium hydroxide right next to him on his side of the lab this whole time. He never needed to come to your side. Instead of looking away he smiled and waved. You snorted to yourself and bit your bottom lip as you quickly waved back before looking back to your experiment. 

After the tortuous three hour lab was finally done you let down your hair and threw your lab goggles into your backpack, catching yourself in a mirror on the way out and realizing just how bad the marks left behind on your face were. 

“Raccoon eyes!” Jen laughed as she appeared by you in the mirror, finding herself in a similar situation.

“How the hell are we supposed to be taken seriously on campus like this?” you laughed as you tried to see if pulling on your skin helped at all, but much to your chagrin it did nothing.

“I mean they’ll just be jealous we get to do labs instead of just lecture all day,” Jen hummed as she waved goodbye. You smiled and waved back as you threw your backpack over your shoulder and moved to follow.

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled from behind you, getting you to look over your shoulder, “Look we’re twins,” he laughed as he pointed to his face, also having deep marks from the goggles around his glasses on his forehead and cheeks. You couldn’t help but laugh not only at his comment but also how absurd it was that he was now treating you like a close friend.

“I think we all learned our lesson today with the goggles,” you said as you started walking out, with him falling into step beside you. 

“You heard the professor: goggles on, risk gone,” he recited, doing an excellent impression of your professor which garnered another laugh from you. “Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while, but um, do you want to study together? You’ve always been getting the top grades in our classes and you don’t seem like a total nerd…” he said, trailing off as he tried to think of a way to finish the sentence.

“A total nerd?” you asked, faking shock at his accusation.

“See- you can take a joke,” he defended himself and holding his hands up, holding the door open for you with his hip, “I’m trying to get into the FBI, y’know, and I know I heard you are too, so I was thinking of proposing a sort of pact?” he continued to explain, glancing down to see your reaction. You met his eyes before quickly darting back down. It’s true, you did want to be a part of the FBI, as stupid a dream it sounded some days. At the beginning of the year one of your classes had you all go around and discuss what you wanted to do in the long-run, mostly just so then the professor could guilt you into remembering you saying that when students were struggling. 

“I’ll bite,” you say simply with a nod, “you’re really stand out in the psychology classes,” you added.

“And you’re a genius at the science stuff!” he said, turning to walk backwards in front of you, keeping his pace right ahead of yours as he talked facing you, “you’re seeing the vision!”. You couldn’t help but laugh again as you looked at him getting giddy.

“Okay okay, don’t trip,” you said as you pulled his wrist so he was back in step with you, both of you smiling like idiots at this point, knowing that this would be the start of a special friendship.

A/N yeah I'll stand by Aaron being a total college himbo (/endearing) and I'll probably write whatever big event causes him to get serious near the end of his time in college and turn into the daddy hotch we know and love.

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Eleven - Intermission|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackCurvyReader

Warnings: abduction, Red Hood, mild confusion, language, minors DNI

Sorry this took so long, sweeties. It's been a long few months. I'm exhausted, but I promise I haven't abandoned this!

If you don't like it, don't read it.

If waking up on silk sheets in a dark—albeit luxurious—unknown location is one of your worse fears

Trigger Warning

Because that's what was happening right now

Your head was heavy and groggy as you looked around at your settings. The pleasant scent of something familiar that you couldn’t place further lulled you from your stupor and you sat up slowly, the silky slink of fabric following you. As you slipped your legs over the edge of the bed, you realized it wasn’t silk sheets at all. You reached for a lamp in the corner and turned it on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You were wearing an evening gown.

Black and sexy

Sleek and curve complementing

Had you not have been terrified out of your mind, you’d have adored it.

Your hair was up in a curly bun, a few loose curls tickling your skin. The small sparkle of a diamond necklace caught your attention, and you marveled at the simple elegance of the design. You were done up perfectly. Like a princess. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to doll you up.

How long had you been out?

Your eyes scanned the vanity in front of you, it's surface lined with high end perfumes and makeups. Something like what you'd see on Pinterest or a tv show depicting the life of an heiress. The familiar smell you were catching was Chanel No. 5 lightly spritzed on you.

What the fuck?

The soft sound of piano music started and you looked to the door on the other side of the room. Approaching the door slowly, you reached to take the knob, ignoring the way it tremored. There was no time to freak out now. You were a journalist with nerves of steel. Keep it together.

You quietly pushed the door open a crack, looking into the fully lit room, seeing nothing out of place. In fact it was immaculate. It was unnerving.

You looked around the edge of the frame for any alarms or triggers, unsure of what might've awaited you. But nothing happened as you eased the door open. The room was gorgeous, easily rivaling one of Bruce's fancy penthouses. Plush carpet, crystal chandeliers, and a beautiful grand piano, behind which was the same masked man that you saw before you blacked out. Your blood ran cold.

He seemed to be aware of your presence the entire time, his mask turned in your direction as he played. You decided not to look like a deer in the headlights and walked towards the piano awkwardly, hearing the end of his song approaching.

"No wonder he's so distracted," he said, as he finished with a pluck of the last key. You waited for him to finish his thought, wondering who "he" was. "You're a knockout."

He stood and you took a step back. He paused, deciding to round the other side of the piano instead.

"Who are you, and where the fuck am I?" you demanded, a bit of edge to your voice to remind him that you weren't trying to exchange pleasantries. As laid back as he seemed, you were certain just walking away wasn't an option.

"Straight to the point, I see. Another selling point for sure," he said, the crimson of his mask unnerving you further. You shuddered to think what he had in store for you. Or even why he targeted you.

You were a journalist, sure, that had written plenty of articles on the criminals of your city, but you didn't remember any of them looking like him.

Perhaps he was from Gotham?

A sudden memory was triggered the moment you thought about Gotham and how it was often said that the philanthropist had a target painted on his back. Maybe that was why Clark was bothered by you hanging around him so much. Not because he himself was dangerous, but because of his social standing.

A fact that had become all too real in your current predicament.

"You mean Bruce," you said, not necessarily asking for conformation. You received a chuckle in return.

"Perceptive too. Even sexier."

So it was.

"Look. I don't know what business you have with him, but-"

"My business is his business. I don't have any qualms with Wayne. Quite the opposite," he said, sitting down, opening a magazine. You watched him, your brow furrowing.

He looked up at you, his eyes sweeping your form. "They call me Red Hood, and I'm here to help Bruce make up his mind."

"Make up his mind? About me, you mean? There's nothing to make up. We're not together."

He sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Ah! Therein lies the issue. You see, Bruce has been driven to distraction lately over you and I wanna know why that is. Selina Kyle never had this deep of a hold on him and he's been chasing her for years."

Selina Kyle? Who was that?

"Why not just ask him?" you inquired, keeping an eye on him, every now and again glancing around for any sign of an out. He tracked your movements carefully, his mask following you with every movement.

"Oh I have been, and I plan to ask one final time tonight."

"So I'm bait," you asked, walking towards the fireplace, observing the portraits on it. Thomas and Martha Wayne. The family butler. Bruce. But on picture caught your eye that made you nearly drop the photo you'd picked up. It was a candid polaroid of Bruce...taking off his mask.

Bruce Wayne was the Dark Knight himself.

Of fuckin course he was.

"No, you're the reason," he said, standing again and folding his arms, watching your realization. You set it back down, looking at him.

"So...Bruce is...a personal friend of yours I take it," you said, subtly hiding your surprise.

Calling him Batman felt entirely too cliché

Especially while you were being held hostage by one of his so-called sidekicks

Now it was making total sense why Clark didn't want you around him

Not only was he a colleague, he really was dangerous

"Very personal. Like an older brother, if you will, and unfortunately, now that you're his main squeeze, you're in it up to here," he said, passing you with his hand above his head to indicate the deep level of shit you were in. He stopped at the fireplace, pulling a phone from his pocket.

"That Sherlock shit's really impressive, you know that?"

"What do you think you're doing, Jason?" Bruce asked with an exasperated breath.

"Putting all the pieces in place," Jason said, looking over his shoulder at you. He was armored, so a vase to the head seemed like a way to piss him off. So you just listened to his conversation with whom you could only assume was Bruce.

"It makes things a bit more complicated than you know. Especially if he finds out you've done this."

"I'm counting on it. He's our other guest of honor, after all," he smirked, hanging up. He seemed very satisfied with himself, plopping back down on the sofa. You gave him a steely calm leer.

"He's gonna kill you when he finds out."

"Nah, I don't think Golden Boy's got it in 'im," he said matter of factly. You didn't doubt he would, but there was something in his tone that made you uneasy. He knew something.

(Part 10)

(Part 12)

[hyperblue]

Very, VERY low quality doodles, apologies in advance.

What they're saying bc I KNOW my handwriting is horrendous;

Wendy: DAD! there's a weirdo flying at our door!

Tim: Wendy take your brother upstairs and stay there.

Wendy: Why do you sound like that?

__

Tim: Who are you and why are you wearing his skin?

Kon: Hi to you too Rob

Tim: Kon?

__

Tim: Clark told you?

Kon: Yeah.

Tim: Do you hate me?

Kon: You know I could never do that.

Tim: I missed you clone-boy

Kon: Missed you too boy-wonder.

__________________________________

I am cringe, but I am free

(I'm shackled by my own embarrassment)

*discovering things about himself* kon el kent the man you are

this is SO COOL and SO SWEET, i love the way you pictured wendy and jackie just being his curly-haired self at the background, TIM WASHING THE DISHES IN HIS ACDC SHIRT and the hug in the end 😭😭😭

i literally own you my life

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: T Characters: Carlos Reyes and T.K. Strand Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, T.K. and Carlos discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times T.K. learns adorable things about Carlos and one time Carlos learns something adorable about T.K. A/N: Thanks to @bluenet13 for the title help on this one. It's been on the back burner for a while and it was time for it to fly free. Also working on a reverse 5+1 companion for it, so keep your eyes open for that...someday... Tagging: This is more than seven sentences, but please accept it anyway. Thanks to @strandnreyes, @bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @ladytessa74, and @lemonlyman-dotcom. Tagging @liminalmemories21, @welcometololaland, @carlos-tk, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, and anyone else who would like to share your Seven Sentence Sunday! Read on AO3

Glasses

T.K. is brushing his teeth in Carlos’ bathroom. Usually his daily oral hygiene wouldn’t be a notable event, but today it feels monumental. Because it’s Carlos’ bathroom. And T.K. is brushing his teeth. Because he’s staying over. Because they’re together. Like really together. Officially. 

He smiles goofily at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth still full of white paste and toothbrush. He’s happy. Really, truly, deeply happy.

He opens up Carlos’ medicine cabinet one handed as he continues brushing away and realizes that while he remembered to bring a razor he did not remember to bring shaving cream. “Hey babe,” he calls around his mouthful as he turns around and pokes his head back into the bedroom, “can I borrow—“

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning and marching back through the open doorway. 

Carlos looks at him, amusement on his face. “You okay over there?”

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

Because he is. Carlos is sitting in his bed, shirtless, hair soft and wildly curly after his shower, a paperback in his hands, and a pair of glasses on his face. Glasses that T.K. has definitely never seen before in his life. Glasses that are kind of knocking the wind out of him.

“Since the fourth grade?” Carlos says. 

“But I’ve never…you’ve never worn them when I’ve been here.”

“I haven’t?” Carlos scrunches up his nose in thought and it makes him even more freaking adorable. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember my boyfriend morphing into Clark fucking Kent,” T.K. retorts.

Carlos chuckles. “I only wear them at night when my contacts start bothering me.”

“You should wear them more often.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he even realizes it. He feels wildly out of control of himself right now and who could blame him? His already incredibly fucking hot boyfriend now looks like an incredibly fucking hot librarian and it is making T.K. think some very, VERY dirty thoughts.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Why?” A slow, lazy, self-satisfied smile spreads across his  face. “You think they’re sexy?”

“God yes.”

T.K. is across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling onto the bed and pulling Carlos’ face to his for a bruising kiss. Carlos immediately drops his book and responds in kind, mouth open and inviting as his hands grip T.K.’s hips and pull him close. “You called me your boyfriend,” he says when they finally break apart for air.

“I did,” T.K. says, diving back in for another taste of Carlos in glasses. It’s completely different than regular Carlos. It’s nerdy. And hot. He loves it.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” Carlos says breathlessly, grinning so wide it’s like the sun has come out. “I like it.”

T.K. grins back at him. “Me too.”

Socks

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as T.K. collapses onto his chest and presses kisses into his sweat sticky skin. “How does it just keep getting better?”

“Because we’re amazing,” T.K. mumbles against his pecs, his eyes already heavy with sleep. “So. Freaking. Amazing.”

He takes a few breaths and feels his body relaxing as sleep pulls him down. He snuggles deeper into Carlos’ chest, eyes drifting shut. He’s nearly out when he feels Carlos shift beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, tightening his hold on Carlos’ torso to keep him from moving.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to put some socks on,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

T.K.’s eyes pop back open and he props himself up to look at Carlos’ face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to put some socks on,” Carlos repeats.

Things still aren’t computing in T.K.’s brain. “…why?” he finally asks slowly.

“Because if we’re going to sleep I need to wear socks.”

He was looking for clarity, but now he’s even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m putting socks on to go to bed,” Carlos says, looking equally as confused.

“But…why?”

“Because otherwise I might catch a cold,” Carlos says with a laugh, gently pushing T.K. off so he can get to his feet.

T.K. blinks a couple times trying to get his bearings and then rolls over, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. “That is not how colds work. Like not even close.”

Carlos returns and sits on the bed to pull his socks on. “I know that,” he says.

“And yet you’re still putting the socks on,” T.K. says.

“My mom always made us wear socks to bed when we were kids.”

“Is she coming over?” T.K. asks incredulously.

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing them?!”

“Because she always made us!”

T.K. takes a breath. “Let me get this straight. You are going to get into this bed with me, fully naked, except for socks that you’re going to wear because your mom made you do it when you were seven?”

Carlos pauses. “Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I just like it okay? I’ve done it forever. I can’t sleep without them,” Carlos says defensively as he slides back into bed beside T.K. “Is this some kind of a dealbreaker for you?”

“Nope,” T.K. says. “Just trying to understand. If wearing socks to bed is what does it for you, then by all means wear the socks.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the lips and turning out the light before pulling T.K. close and snuggling in to go to sleep.

T.K. gets comfortable and closes his eyes, but he can’t stop the thoughts running through his mind in the dark and quiet of the room. He sits up and turns the light back on. “I really need you to tell me that you understand that you can’t catch a cold from not wearing socks though.”

Romance

T.K. loves being in Carlos’ condo without him. He likes it better when Carlos is around obviously. But he feels so special that Carlos has given him a key and invited him to share his space. It means he trusts T.K. enough to let him be here alone where it’s peaceful and calm, unlike his dad’s house which somehow feels crowded even though there are only two of them there most of the time.

Carlos’ place feels more like home than anywhere else has in a long time.

He takes his shoes off when he arrives and dutifully puts them away, then grabs a mineral water and a yogurt out of the fridge before collapsing onto Carlos’ couch. “Ouch,” he says with a frown as something pokes into his back from behind the throw pillow.

He reaches behind him and pulls out a book. It’s not unusual to find books around the condo, Carlos is a big reader, but the brightly colored cover on this one makes T.K. pause and raise his eyebrows. The Spanish Love Deception is the title and when he flips it over to read the back he learns that Catalina Martín is in desperate need of a date for her sister’s wedding and her mortal enemy at work seems to be her only option.

He’s rifling through the pages when the door opens and Carlos walks in. “Hey,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet T.K.’s. “When did you get in?”

“Like fifteen minutes ago,” T.K. tells him as Carlos slips off his shoes and then comes over to press a kiss to his lips. “I found this behind the throw pillow.”

He holds up the romance novel and Carlos takes it from him. “Francesca must have left it here,” he says, referring to his sister. “Looks like her kind of book. I’ll text her and let her know you found it it.”

T.K. doesn’t think about it again for a couple of weeks until one night when his dad cancels their dinner plans and he spontaneously heads to Carlos’ instead. “Hey, it’s me!” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“T.K.?” Carlos appears at the top of the stairs, one hand behind his back, looking a little frazzled. “I thought you were going to dinner with your dad.”

“He bailed,” T.K. says, adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time, giving Carlos a peck on his lips when he reaches him. “You okay?” he asks, taking in the weird expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Carlos says, even as a minor amount of panic is flickering through his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

T.K. looks him up and down. “Do you have some other guy in your bedroom?”

“What?! No!” Carlos says quickly.

“Were you watching porn?”

“Of course not!” Carlos says, but there’s a deep blush rising up in his cheeks. 

“What’s behind your back?” T.K. reaches for him, but Carlos steps away out of his reach.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You know you are so freaking bad at lying, right?”

“Can we just drop it?” Carlos asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

T.K. takes a step forward so that Carlos is forced to back into the wall and then reaches around him and plucks the hidden object from his fingers. It’s another book, the cover bright blue with the title The American Roommate Experiment on the front. T.K. recognizes the name of the author as the same one from the book he found behind the couch cushions and his eyebrows rise. “Oh. You were reading porn.”

“It’s not porn,” Carlos says. “It’s a book.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Delight is spiraling through T.K. as he fully realizes what’s going on. “That was your book a couple weeks ago. Not your sister’s.” He can feel his eyes start to sparkle with mischief. “You like smutty romance novels.”

“I don’t like them because they’re smutty,” Carlos says quickly. “I like them because…I like them.”

“You like them because you’re a big old softy romantic,” T.K. says, poking him gently in the chest. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies too?”

The silence that follows tells him all he needs to know. “You do,” T.K. says happily. He could not be more thrilled about this new discovery.

“I grew up with four sisters,” Carlos defends himself.

“Please tell me you read Fifty Shades.”

“I would never,” Carlos scoffs. “Those books are not an accurate depiction of the BDSM community.”

“Oh my god you’re adorable,” T.K. tells him. 

“No, I’m, no don’t call me that,” Carlos says, clearly embarrassed.

“You are,” T.K. tells him, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist. “You are the most adorable boyfriend the world has ever seen.”

“Are you going to let this go, or is this something you’re going to talk about forever?” Carlos asks.

“Mmm definitely the second thing,” T.K. says as Carlos sighs with long suffering. “Now how about you take me to your bedroom and teach me some of the things you’ve learned from these books?”

Scaredy Cat

Sharing new things with each other has become a complete delight for T.K. So when he finds out that Carlos has never seen a single one of the Halloween movies, he declares the need for a marathon during the month of October and immediately goes over to his dad’s to dig out his DVD’s. No way is he dealing with ads breaking up the masterpiece that is Michael Myers. 

He’s popped popcorn, pulled out all the throw blankets, and even gone so far as to make up a bloody looking mocktail to really get them in the spirit of the movies. Now he’s just eagerly awaiting Carlos who has gone out to fetch their pizza.

He’s pulling down plates from the cupboard (Carlos refuses to eat pizza straight out of the box like they’re “college frat bros”) when the door opens and his boyfriend returns, pizza in hand. 

“Perfect timing!” T.K. says, eagerly taking the box from him and handing him the gory looking cocktail in return. 

“Oh, wow,” Carlos says. “This is…something.”

“I found a recipe online,” T.K. tells him excitedly as he dishes out pizza slices onto plates. “I thought they would be fun!”

“So creative,” Carlos says, poking at the gummy eyeballs that T.K. ordered online and added for extra pizzazz.

“Okay,” T.K. says as they settle onto the couch, his excitement at an eleven. “So, John Carpenter and Debra Hill wrote this in like ten days, which is crazy, and Carpenter got paid ten thousand dollars to write, direct, and score it. They built a cinematic masterpiece, the go-to film for horror, and they did it in ten days for ten thousand dollars. Can you even believe that?”

“Sure can’t,” Carlos says with a shake of his head. 

“We’re starting with the original Halloween,” T.K. tells him as he flicks on the television. “1963, Michael Myers versus a bunch of teenage girls. We’ll skip a few in the middle, Halloween: Resurrection isn’t worth anybody’s time, and while Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers does feature a young, fresh faced Paul Rudd, it has too many flaws to be worth watching.”

“So we’re skipping two out of…”

“Thirteen,” T.K. tells him.

“I guess I should have taken the month off of work,” Carlos tells him, sending him an odd, tense sort of smile.

Come to think of it, Carlos’ whole body feels a little tense too. If T.K. didn’t know any better, he’d think Carlos was nervous. But he chalks it up to worry over getting pizza grease on the couch and hits play as he snuggles into his boyfriend’s side.

They’re still snuggled together as Michael takes a knife to his teenage sister and T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos stiffens even further over the bloody scene. Or the way he seems to get more and more tense as the movie progresses. “You want another drink?” T.K. asks after Michael murders the Wallace’s dog.

Carlos shakes his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes a little wider than normal as he stares at the screen. He gasps audibly when Michael appears in Annie’s car and when T.K. looks down he finds that Carlos is gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles are going white. 

By the time Michael starts going after Laurie, Carlos’ breathing has gone rapid and T.K. carefully slips his fingers under the edge of his sleeve to find his pulse racing. Not a surprise given the contents of the movie, but Carlos’ face has gone almost white and and he’s sitting so rigidly T.K. is afraid all of his muscles are going to lock up. 

“Carlos,” he says quietly, but Carlos doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. asks again, reaching for the remote.

He’s too late. Michael appears out of nowhere and Carlos jumps to his feet with a shout, hands going to his hips as he paces a couple agitated steps back and forth. 

T.K. finally gets his finger on the button to pause the movie. “Carlos, hey, look at me,” T.K. says, feeling legitimately concerned.

“No I—it’s fine. I’m fine,” Carlos says, hand making chopping motions as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as T.K. “Go ahead, turn it back on. I’ll just um, I’m just going to—“

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” T.K. says.

“No I’m—it’s good,” Carlos says even as a car honks outside and he flinches violently.

“It’s not fine,” T.K. says. “You hate it. Let’s watch something else.”

“We can finish—“

“Carlos, you look like you think Michael is coming after you personally. We’re not watching anymore,” T.K. says with a chuckle, using the remote to flip over to live TV, Bobby Flay declaring loudly that he will not be beaten at his own culinary game this time.

“Thank you,” Carlos sighs, collapsing back into the couch.

“When were you going to tell me you hate horror movies?” T.K. asks.

“Never,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “You were so excited and I thought maybe it would be okay.”

“But?”

“I begged my parents to let me watch It with my sisters when I was ten. I didn’t sleep for like a month after that and ever since…” he shivers, “I just don’t get why people like them.”

“It’s pretty cute you know,” T.K. says with a fond smile. “My big tough police officer being scared of horror movies.”

“Cute or pathetic?” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes, finally starting to look like himself again now that it’s vegetables being chopped up instead of people.

“Cute,” T.K. tells him definitively, pulling him close. “Now come here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Paparazzi

The radio is blaring when T.K. walks in from his shift, so loud that for a second he thinks he’s walked into the wrong condo. A quick glance around reveals that no, this is indeed Carlos’ place, although there’s no sign of Carlos anywhere, and it takes him another moment to realize the music is actually coming from upstairs.

He climbs the staircase, the music getting louder with each step and by the time he’s reached the top it’s changed from something in Spanish to Lady Gaga and is blasting so loudly that it feels like he’s at a live performance rather than in his boyfriend’s bedroom.

That’s when he finally hears the singing. Not Gaga herself, although she’s hard to ignore. No. Someone is belting out the lyrics from behind the bathroom door, slightly out of tune, but with the most passion T.K. has ever heard.

He opens the door quietly, the sound intensifying as the spray of the shower joins the fray. 

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I’LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME! PAPA-PAPARAZZI!” Carlos bellows from behind the semi-frosted glass of the shower door.

T.K. crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a grin on his face as he watches the blurry silhouette of his naked boyfriend scrubbing away at his hair while he sings along. He makes it through the rest of the chorus and another verse before he turns around and lets out a yell. “Jesus Christ!”

The water turns off immediately followed quickly by the music as T.K. laughs. Carlos opens the shower door, poking his sopping wet head out. “What the hell? How long have you been standing there?” he says, clearly torn between fury and embarrassment.

“Long enough,” T.K. says, handing him a towel before returning to his position against the wall, watching appreciatively as Carlos pulls it around his waist and steps out, water glistening on his skin.

“You realize that’s really fucking creepy, right?” Carlos asks as he double checks that his towel is secure.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the concert,” T.K. says fully aware that he is smirking and enjoying every second of watching Carlos squirm.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Carlos says, looking down at the floor, his cheeks flushed from more than the heat of his shower.

“Do you always sing in the shower?”

“No.” But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s gaze when he says it.

“Yes,” T.K. says gleefully. “Why don’t you ever sing when I’m here?”

“Because some things are better left in private,” Carlos tells him with a glower.

“Babe, come on,” T.K. says, taking a step forward and putting his hands on Carlos’ hips just above where the towel is sitting. “I love knowing stuff like this about you. It makes me feel like you’re mine. I get to see these little parts of Carlos Reyes that other people don’t.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you also put on performances in the precinct showers.”

“Definitely not,” Carlos scoffs. His hands come up to rest on T.K.’s biceps. “You really don’t think it’s weird? I know I’m not a good singer.”

T.K. kisses the tip of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you happy. And that’s all I care about.”

+ 1: Ticklish

Waking up with T.K. had been his dream for months, but he wasn’t completely surprised when it turned out not to be a reality. It turns out T.K. doesn’t wake up with anyone. In fact he barely wakes up at all. He has to be dragged out of bed and plied with coffee and a shower before he’s even remotely functional. 

When questioned about how he can wake up and immediately go to work when the alarm bells go off at the fire station, T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy and says, “That’s different.”

So Carlos contents himself with waking up beside T.K., pressing a kiss to whatever part of him is poking out from under the blankets, and then greeting him more officially when he finally stumbles out of bed usually an hour or two after Carlos.

He’s just finished his workout when he hears T.K.’s alarm going off followed quickly by a muffled thud as T.K. predictably sends his phone flying to floor in his attempts to turn it off.

Carlos smiles and wipes a towel across his forehead before stowing away his weights and jogging back upstairs. T.K. is buried under the blankets, only the top of his head poking out. “Morning,” Carlos says softly, bending over to kiss his forehead.

T.K. reaches up and catches his arm, tugging him downward. “Come back to bed,” he mumbles. 

“I’m all sweaty,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I need to go take a shower.”

“No staaay,” T.K. groans, tugging more insistently.

Carlos rolls his eyes but he concedes, sitting down on the mattress and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal T.K.’s face. “Are you going to get up?”

“It’s our day off,” T.K. tells him, eyes still tightly shut.

“It is.” Carlos leans closer, a fond smile on his face. “And if you don’t get up soon it will be over.”

He pokes T.K. in the ribs good-naturedly and immediately receives a sharp backhand across the face. “Ow!” he yells, rearing back and clutching his nose. “T.K. what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” T.K. yelps, and Carlos can feel him scrambling to get upright in the tangle of their sheets. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

He reaches for Carlos’ face, but Carlos pulls back. His nose feels like it’s been smashed into a thousand pieces, but he rubs at it experimentally and it seems to be intact. Another check shows no blood on his fingers, so he’s probably all right, but damn. It hurts. “What the hell was that for?” he asks grouchily, sending T.K. a glare.

T.K. looks sheepishly down at the sheets. “Um, well, I might be just a little bit ticklish?”

Carlos blinks at him. “No you’re not.”

T.K.’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Yes I am?”

“T.K. we’ve been together for like four months. I would know if you were ticklish.” He knows T.K.’s body intimately. Where he can touch to make him moan, to make him gasp, to make him arch his back. If T.K. were ticklish, it would have been revealed long before now. 

“It’s just that one spot on the left side of my ribs,” T.K. tells him. “If your hands start to go there I just take them and move them somewhere else. You’ve never noticed?”

Huh. Carlos sits with that for a second replaying as many of their sexual encounters as he can remember. “I guess…I guess not. Why did you hit me though?” he asks with a frown.

“Ah.” T.K. blushes. “I always move your hands because I can get a little…violent when I get tickled. It’s kind of a panic response.”

“And instead of telling me this you just waited for me to discover it by accident and nearly broke my nose in the process?”

“I kind of forgot honestly. It’s just become a habit to move your hands,” T.K. tells him.

Carlos snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” T.K. asks warily.

“Oh my god…that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carlos says, full on laughing now. 

T.K.’s face breaks into a smile and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It is kind of dumb.”

Carlos leans forward and cups his chin, pulling him in for a real kiss. “You’re cute,” he says. “You and your ridiculous ticklish spot.”

“You’re cute too,” T.K. says, then wrinkles his nose. “But you kind of stink.”

“Oh I do?”

“Yeah you do.”

Carlos wraps his arms around T.K. while he yells in protest, holding him tightly as they fall onto the mattress together. It’s disgustingly adorable. And Carlos wouldn’t trade it for the world.