#he doesn’t actually but I think he does

[wingfleur]

# — helping mark grayson lose his v-card.

ever since i finished invincible back in MARCH, mark grayson has been living in the back of my mind rent free. then, @sobbingscripter fucked around and gave me this stubborn childhood best-friends to lovers brainworm i cannot shake with her series "our turn." everybody go read it! this is all your fault, girl!!! 💔 | wc: 2.3k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, childhood-friends-to-friends-who-fuck?, porn with a crumb of plot, vaginal fingering, explicit sex (p in v), missionary, loss of virginity (both reader and mark), creampie, reader trying (and failing) to not feel good, mark being inexplicably good at sex despite this being his first time?, this is... vaguely angsty considering the circumstances

thinking about mark grayson asking you to do him a favor and take his virginity.

i mean, shit— mark seriously thinks he has a chance with amber, and he doesn’t want to risk a single thing about him turning her off. like— what if, when they eventually get, y’know, "hot and heavy," he kisses her with too much teeth, or can’t find the clit, or, god forbid, he tries to put his dick in the wrong hole! in that case, he’d be single and lonely forever, doomed to die unfucked, and it’s not like you’re seeing anyone either, so you’re the only one he can ask for help!

now, in your defense, the first few proposals mark offers get shot down by you in no time at all. you like mark, yeah, and losing your v-card would be nice, sure, but you’re not that desperate. being so thirsty to fuck him that you’re willing to be his test dummy so he can properly fuck the girl he actually likes is a level of depravity you’d never, ever sink to, but the way mark gets down on his knees one night and begs with his those big, brown puppy eyes of his makes you kiss your teeth and begrudgingly say yes. 

and as nervous as mark’s been acting, he’s eager. 

when mark kisses you for the first time, the action not nearly as full of teeth as he initially worried about, you come to find that it’s actually... quite nice. it’s hesitant, sure, but as far as you're concerned, this is not only your first kiss, but his. it's clumsy, but full of good intentions, and you enjoy the sensation of soft lips pressed against yours until he gets comfortable enough to lick at your bottom lip.

he only gets bolder from there. strong, calloused hands caress your sides, slipping under the fabric of your tattered t-shirt that you cut the neckline off of. firm, muscled legs walk you back towards your bed and cause you to bend at the knee, falling back onto the mattress, and him along with it. soon, those soft, pink lips are trailing their way down your neck, and those shy, but secure, hands are making their way to your bare chest, thumbs cautiously flicking over your pebbled nipples. 

you’re quite surprised by the effort it takes you to try to act like you’re not enjoying this. 

“‘s that okay?” mark asks softly against your lips, pulling back enough to look at your face. your expression is pinched, brows slightly knitted in the middle. mark’s concentration deepens, and he moves back a little further to truly study you, lips parting as he cautiously moves to pinch your nipples between his pointer and index fingers. 

“...you look like it hurts.” mark’s eyes flicker across every tremor and flicker of the expression on your face. you let your eyes shut slowly and try to steel yourself, breathing deep. 

“no, it doesn’t. you’re just— notthatgoodatthis.”

mark’s fingers slow to a near stop as he takes a moment to truly scrutinize you, eyes locking onto the way your eyebrow twitches as he slowly rolls the buds between his fingertips. then, he smiles, leaning back down to brush his lips against yours.

“you’re lying.”

you are lying. to be more accurate, you’re lying like fuck, but to maintain a shred of your dignity, you can’t act like being mark grayson’s test fuck-dummy feels nearly as good as it does. you'd simply be handing him the green light to go fuck amber. 

“i have no reason to lie.”

“sure,” he chirps back, “we’ll see about that.”

you find two reasons to lie once mark sinks his fingers into you.

firstly, you’re wet— unbearably so— and you know mark can feel it from the way his lips drop open with a groan. mark inhales deeply in an attempt to stifle any other sounds that escape him in the process, focusing solely on the slow press of his middle and ring fingers into your hole. the whole process is audible and clicky, which makes his head buzz with static every time the squelch reverberates against his eardrums. secondly, you’re tight; sure, mark already knew you were a virgin, but it’s another thing for the proof to be sitting right in front of him (or, better yet, squeezing around him). the way you’re squirming beneath him tells mark everything: that, to date, his fingers are the biggest thing you’ve ever had inside of you. 

christ, mark feels like he’s gonna lose his mind. 

the first thing he notices, aside from the way you’re clenching around him like you wanna break his fingers off, is the way the cords of muscle in your thighs are pulled taut. you’re tense— that much is evident from your pinched expression— but mark decides he wants to watch that pained face melt off into molten pleasure, so he starts to rock his fingers into you gently. 

“how’s that?” he asks, voice low and a little frayed around the edges. his adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows, focusing himself on your face instead of the pretty sight of your pussy swallowing him up. 

“hardly feel it,” you lie unconvincingly, teeth gritted and jaw tight. you know you’re not going to win an oscar for your performance anytime soon, if the way mark laughs is anything to go by, and you frown in reply because, as much as you want to be mad, it’s truly a glorious noise. that said, you do have a reputation for being a buzzkill to uphold, so you try and fix your lips to snark out a reply, but you quickly press them into a flat line the moment you feel a moan bubbling up rather than words.

“sure,” is all mark says, his voice and tone void of any dejection. there’s little to no emotion in it at all, actually, and it makes you open your eyes right as he curls his fingers and drags them across your upper walls. 

a soft gasp leaves you, and your brows shoot up in surprise, tummy spasming for a moment as your hips kick up into his hand. mark’s rhythm falters for a moment, surprised by the sudden movement, but he has no problem adapting to the situation and getting back into it with a grin across his face. 

“bet you feel it now,” he coos, tone patronizing as he concentrates his fingers on that tender spot inside you. you shake your head quickly, brain threateningly to drip out your ears as you squeeze your eyes shut so hard you see spots. 

“all i— fuck— feel is you fumbling around inside of me like this is some bastardized prostate exam.”

mark snorts, but ultimately doesn’t reply, and in the back of your mind, you think you notice that as a sign of trouble. in actuality, you aren’t really sure: you could’ve picked up on it as a result of your last-minute preservation skills, but at the same time, it very well could have been a lie you made up in an attempt to make this feel less real.

whatever it is, it doesn’t matter anymore. you’re hardly aware enough of your surroundings as is. not after mark busies himself with slowly sliding his cock inside of you. 

“oh fuck, you feel good,” mark moans, voice sounding utterly destroyed as he presses himself in to the hilt. your thighs quiver, and you take a hand to press it against his abdomen, right above where it tapers into a v-shape and disappears inside of you. 

“i— fuck you, mark—“

mark, despite how much his eyes wanna roll back, leans over you and smugly grins.

“you are right now, aren’t you?” 

you don’t know where the fuck mark learned this.

the first few thrusts of his are measured, more so savoring the feeling of the way your walls sticking to his cock every time he draws back and press his hips forward. then, his thrusts become confident. he falls into a good pace, most of his weight on his hands as he leans over you and focuses on your face. 

your expression starts to crumble. 

the rhythm slowly makes a tingle form in your gut, jaw dropping open as you try to fix your mouth to half-heartedly tell him to stop. then, he angles his hips and hits a spot that makes your mind go blank of any protests, effectively making your steeled expression finally crumble. 

“oh, fuck,“ you finally whine, back arching slowly into a deep bow. you blink open your teary eyes to catch mark looking at you with the most lovesick expression, something you’re nearly dumb enough to think is for you before it’s covered up by pride for finally getting you to crack. 

“tell me how good it feels,” he says, dropping suddenly onto his elbows. you’re about to tell him that you’d only ever do such a thing in hell, but then he presses his face into your neck and slowly grinds into you, causing a shudder to completely wrack your body. 

“mark,“ you whimper softly, arms and legs coming up to cling onto mark desperately. he continues to sensually rock into you, movements long and drawn out so you can really feel it. as you begin to squirm, mark uses his muscled arms and firm hands to clutch you so you can’t run. 

“tell me,” he pants again. “tell me how good it fuckin’ feels.”

“fuck, it feels so fucking good, mark.” the way you whisper it sounds utterly broken, tears pricking at the corners of your lashes as a part of you gets damn near angry from how good you feel. mark keeps rolling his hips into you as he leans back to take in your expression, head coming forward to press a kiss to one of your eyelids. 

“cum for me.”

the words quickly make your eyes flutter open, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows as he keeps fucking you slow and measured. your mouth opens and closes for a few moments as you try to string together something akin to a disbelieving “what?”, but mark beats you to it and shushes you, pressing your foreheads together. 

“stop thinking so hard and let go. lemme feel it, baby.”

mark holds your gaze for a moment, actively watching the way your gears still manage to turn despite how stupid you currently feel. something suddenly gives in your expression, and mark smiles in realization, watching as you slowly relax and focus on nothing but the incredible warmth building inside you. 

your orgasm takes a little while, but when it does finally come, it’s glorious. 

mark would describe it as you melting. he watches as you seize up for just a brief moment, clutching him for dear life with slight panic in your eyes. then, he watches as you turn to jelly, the panic subsiding into something that can only be described as pure bliss, becoming one with the sheets and mattress itself. 

you feel so good around him that his hips stutter, but as much as mark wants to cum too, he wants to see you through your orgasm first. 

you can’t do anything but take it. 

it feels amazing— like a tingly, warm sensation spreading from the very top of your head to the very tips of your toes. you do your best to hold mark’s eye contact as your climax ravages you, but they eventually roll back into your head. the sight makes him groan and duck his head into your neck. 

“fuck,” mark hisses, voice low and gruff enough to be similar to a growl. it makes goosebumps rise on your skin— a few more than the ones that have already sprouted up on your arms and neck, at least— and when the numbing feeling of your orgasm begins to fade, you reach up to handle your fingers in his hair and lightly scratch your nails against his back. “where do you want it?”

you pause for a moment— one of genuine, critical thought— and lean up to speak in his ear. 

“inside.” 

mark briefly pulls up to look at you, the urge to ask you if you’re sure on the tip of his tongue, but the look you give him, combined with the knot tightening in his gut, tells him to shut up and listen, causing him to duck back down to your neck. 

mark’s pace falters, falling from measured and steady to frantic and fast as he chases after his high. he trembles with the force of his orgasm, hugging you tight as he humps into you like he’s trying to carve a place out inside of you. 

you shiver with him as he does, and you soothe him through it, murmuring praise in his ear until he’s panting heavily and slumps against you.

“…thank you,” he mumbles, face still buried in his neck. 

you’re panting heavily too, but that doesn’t stop you from weakly smiling, fingers tracing shapes in his skin. “don’t thank me, this was charity work.” 

mark snorts lightly and turns his head to lightly nibble you, making you giggle in reply. 

“maybe,” he says, sighing and turning his head to rest his cheek on your shoulder. “but still. thank you.” 

you hum quietly in response, a smile tugging at your lips until a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of why he did this. it's quick, how suddenly something deep inside of you sours—something deep enough that it isn’t able to deter you from enjoying this peace you find in mark grayson’s arms, but accessible to the point of letting you feel that sting in the very tips of your fingers. 

you fall silent, listening to the rhythm of mark’s breathing, tracing patterns and shapes until his heavy, exhausted breathing becomes soft and measured. 

it’s only then do you allow yourself to speak, making the conscious effort to tuck the bitterness you finally feel in yourself away. 

“mm. i guess you’re welcome.”

# — navigation

[katethewriter]

Just For A Picture

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Words: 2.6k~

Summary: Based on the song Smile by Morgan Wallen

Warnings: grab your tissues my friends, depression, anxiety, all the sad feelings, I wrote this instead of sleeping and haven't proof read it, so there are probably many, many errors

A/N: I actually listened to the lyrics of this song for the first time, and they hurt my feelings. Jokes aside, idk if this is how he meant to write the song, but I heard it and thought, "that's exactly what it feels like to love someone with depression." The song got stuck in my head, and... well... this happened. It was actually really cathartic to write. I hope you enjoy!

When you began getting ready for the party, they were surprised... 

...pleasantly.  

Natasha and Wanda share a small smile before continuing their own prep. Wary that a larger reaction may cause you to change your mind.  

Yesterday, you had told them you would go to the party, but they weren’t sure if you would still feel the same today.  

It had been so long since you had gone out with the team.  

You’ve been able to keep up with training and missions for the most part, but everything else is just too much. Socializing, exercising, cooking, chores, bathing, eating, even getting out bed some days just seems impossible. 

The last few months being the worst you’ve had in a while.  

The team does all they can. Your girlfriends most of all. They try to take as much of the burden for you, but they know there are some parts of this they can’t take from you, no matter how much they wish they could. So, they do what they can and enjoy whatever moments they are able to share with you. 

Which is why tonight means everything to them. 

I can’t remember the last time you looked as happy as you did tonight.  

The team has the entire place to themselves.  

Carol is on Earth for a few days, and Tony had bought out the entire bar to celebrate.  

Wanda and Natasha stand with you at a table to the side of the bar. Each of you have a drink in front of you, even if you hadn’t taken a single sip of yours. 

They can tell your uncomfortable, but you’re trying.  

For them, right now, that is enough.  

“Thank you for coming out with us tonight,” Wanda wraps a careful arm around your waist. 

Natasha reaches across the table to take one of your hands in yours, “we’re so proud of you.”  

You give them a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching your eyes and bring your glass to your lips.  

“What are you doing all the way over here?” Carol asks, coming up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.  

“Just a little quieter,” you answer her with a small smile.  

The blonde steps away from the table pulling gently on your arm, “come take a picture with me?”  

You give a quick glance to your girlfriends, before allowing yourself to be pulled away. 

Your tipsy friend grabbed that bar tender, gave him her phone and pulled you over there with her.  

Carol hands her phone to the guy behind the bar and pulls you close to your side.  

You’re not particularly fond of pictures, but seeing as she is your best friend, you oblige her. You ready yourself to make your best fake smile.  

As the bartender holds up the camera, Carol whispers a joke in your ear.  

... and for the first time in a really long time, a genuine laugh bubbles up from your throat. 

He counted to three, and baby I haven’t seen that side of you in forever.  

From the table, your girlfriends watch as the two of you pose. They know you dislike photos, but they also know Carol, as your best friend, is capable of talking you into doing anything.  

They watch as the bartender counts 1...2... You smile.  

Most people would probably think nothing of it. They would see that smile and think you’re the happiest person alive. 

 But not the two of them. They know you. They know that smile. They know it's the mask you put on when that's the best you can do.  

Just before he gets to 3, Carol says something they can’t hear, then the most beautiful sound cuts through the air. 

A laugh.  

Your laugh. 

Your real laugh. 

The bartender snaps the picture and captures you smiling ear to ear. 

A smile they barely remember but still takes their breath away every time they see it.  

Natasha and Wanda relish in the sight. The concern ever present in their chests lifting, if even for a second. 

I hate it's the truth, but baby you never do when we’re alone together.  

As the night goes on, the weight on Natasha and Wanda continues to lift as you become more yourself then you’ve been in months. 

You don’t order your own meal, but you help both Wanda and Natasha finish their plates.  

You even take up Yelena’s offer to taste her mac ‘n cheese. Normally the blonde would never share with anyone, but you having any kind of appetite is more than worth it for her.  

You tell Carol about the new book series you’ve read since she was last on earth. She makes you pinky swear to let her borrow them before she has to leave again. 

You playfully debate over the correct order to watch the Star Wars movies with the guys.  

You roll your eyes when Clint and Kate let you win a game of darts. 

It takes a couple drinks, but they are eventually able to get you on the dance floor for a bit.  

When the dj slows the music down, Wanda and Natasha wrap their arms around you and sway softly to the music.  

“Are you having a good time?” Wanda asks gently. 

You nod your head with a smile. The alcohol has turned your brain a bit fuzzy. The thoughts that normally cloud your consciousness are quiet. You feel like you can relax. ... like you can breathe. It’s not weighing you down. It's not unbearable. 

 “Are there plans for tomorrow?” you ask quietly, resting your head on Natasha’s shoulder, feeling just a bit sleepy.  

“Do you want plans?” Natasha answers your question with a question of her own.  

You don’t answer verbally, only nodding. 

“Ok,” you can hear the soft smile in Wanda’s voice, “what about brunch and maybe a walk in the park?”  

“Does that sound good?” Natasha asks. 

Again, all you give them is a nod, this time with a smile to accompany. 

They share a look full of relief and hope.  

Relief that you have this break from the demons in your head.  

Hope that better times may finally be on the horizon. 

It was good to see you smile.  Girl, you know it's been a while. 

Natasha had woken first like normal. She slid out of bed, kissing both yours and Wanda’s heads without waking either of you.  

Her regular morning run seemed so much lighter today, like she had an extra pep in her step.  

She knows the culprit.  

You.  

You at the party last night. 

You agreeing to go out with them today. 

You finally coming back to them.  

This wasn’t the first depressive episode you’ve had since the three of you had been together, but it was the longest.  

They know this mental illness isn’t you.

Just a thief.

A thief that comes and takes your joy. Takes you from them for a time.  

They know this. They know all they can do is love you in every way they can, until the thief releases you again.  

They take advantage of those times. Cherish them, every second.  

When she returns to the compound, Natasha pulls out her phone. She calls your favorite brunch spot, making a reservation for three at your favorite table by the window.  

She ends the call just as she reaches the door to your shared room.  

She opens the door as wide as the smile on her face.  

She’s met with a look of despair on Wanda’s face. Her green eyes are glassy as her arm wrap around you. Your face is buried into Wanda’s chest. Your hands gripping her night shirt. Your shoulders shake tremble with the sobs you struggle to restrain.  

Natasha’s smile falters as reality sinks in.  

The thief had returned. 

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but you ain’t said one since you woke up.  

Wanda shushes you gently, rocking a bit, rubbing your back. Anything she can to bring you even the smallest bit of comfort.  

Natasha lays behind you wrapping her arm around your waist, “no spoons?” She uses the same analogy you had when you explained your depression to them the first time. 

You shake your head as a shaky breath claws its way down your throat.  

“That’s ok,” she comforts, “I’ll go steal some for you.” 

You chuckle lightly at her usual response. She knows it's not that simple. If only it were, you would never know a moment’s misery.  

But just knowing she’s here, that they're both here is enough for now. 

Silly me, thinking we could make it work, but can you blame me for getting my hopes up? 

Wanda holds back tears as she holds you together in her arms.  

The thoughts in your head are too loud for her to block out, and they tear her heart apart. The way you think about yourself.  

She’d give anything to take them from you, especially because she can. Her powers give her that ability, but it would require her crossing a line she doesn’t have permission to cross. So she won’t. 

But it take everything in her not to. Especially after last night. The glimpse. The reminder of life when you aren’t being weighed down by the demons in your head.  

When you get to be happy again.  

You know it took me right back to how it used to be. 

Wanda and Natasha step into the kitchen. They didn’t want to leave you by yourself, but you assured them you were ok. You just wanted a minute alone, and they should go eat.  

“Morning.” Steve raises his cup to say hello.  

Natasha heads for the coffee maker, while Wanda goes to the fridge gathering a few ingredients for breakfast, “good morning.”  

“Is Y/n coming down?” Yelena asks. Everyone’s eyes turn to Natasha and Wanda, hopeful. 

Neither can bring themselves to voice it. They glance to each other for a moment, before Wanda gives them a tight-lipped smile followed by a shake of her head. 

A collective sigh of disappointment settles over the group. 

There’s a sweet sadness they feel together. They all miss her. She is their family. Without her, they feel like something is missing. 

Last night, they felt complete. 

“She did really good last night,” Clint says, sending Natasha a small supportive smile.  

She nods, “she did.” 

Baby seeing us like that, is still a little bittersweet.  

“Hey, can I show you something?” Carol asks, sitting down while Wanda and Natasha began to eat their breakfast.  

The pair nod and lean in as the blonde holds her phone, “I got a few pictures last night.”  

As she flips through the pictures, tears gather in both Wanda and Natasha’s eyes.  

First is the picture of you and Carol that the bartender took. Then a selfie of you, Carol and Pepper. A group shot of several of you around a table. You aiming a dart with Clint and Kate cheering you on behind you.   

The last picture is of you, Wanda and Natasha on the dance floor during a slow dance. You’re standing in their arms. Natasha in front of you, Wanda behind. You’re laying your head on Natasha’s shoulder. Their heads are resting on yours. 

They had no idea the picture was being taken, but you did.  

You are looking right at the camera with the softest smile. 

“I can send them to you if you’d like.” 

Wanda quickly wipes away the tears that have fallen, “please.” 

If someone were to see this, they’d think everything’s alright. 

Wanda stares. She can’t stop.  

Everyone else has finished breakfast and left the kitchen. The only one with her is Natasha who is cleaning the dishes.  

Wanda stands at the counter holding her phone in her hands. The last photo from last night fills her screen.  

There’s an ache too deep for words that settles in her chest.  

The aching wish that she could keep you in that precise moment the photo was taken.  

There on the dance floor, between the two of them, with that smile.  

Completely at peace. 

No raging thoughts. No anxieties. No feelings of inadequacy. 

The longer Wanda stares the stronger the ache gets. Tears fill her eyes until she can’t keep them at bay. Her lips quiver, and her face collapses in pain. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natasha quickly wraps both arms around Wanda from behind, “I know, I know.” She tries to provide comfort as her girlfriends cries. 

Wanda drops her phone onto the counter and leans back into Natasha, “I just want to help her.”  

“I know.” 

They both look down to the photo.  

“I miss her.” 

Natasha holds her closer, “me too.” 

At least we got a pretty little moment frozen in time.  

They returned to the room a little while later. After they had put themselves back together well enough to be there how you needed them to be.  

They find you still in bed, curled up on your side. 

“Can I lay down with you?” Natasha asks, wanting to respect your space if you still need it, but you don’t. You just need them.  

You nod, and she curls herself behind you again.  

Wanda kneels beside the bed with a bowl in her hands, “I brought some fruit if you think you’re up for it.” 

You shake your head and just reach for her hand instead. 

She sets the bowl on the nightstand hoping for better luck later. When she lays in front of you, you curl into her chest as her fingers card through your hair.  

“I’m sorry.”  

“For not eating fruit?” Wanda questions. 

“You never have to apologize for that,” Natasha kisses your head, “we know you can’t control your appetite-” 

“No-” you interrupt, “for being like this.” They try to hush you, but you continue, “for being sad all the time, and not being able to do anything. I’m sorry you have to take care of me. I’m sorry you have to see me like this-” 

“Shhhhh, what do you mean see you like this?” Wanda takes your face into both of her hands. She brushes away your tears with her thumbs, “can I show you how we see you?”  

After a moment of looking into one another’s eyes, you nod. 

She gives you a kiss on the forehead, and suddenly you’re not in your bedroom in the compound. You’re at the bar from last night, but not in your perspective. You’re seeing through Wanda’s eyes.  

You watch as Carol drags you away for a picture you don’t want, but then you watch yourself laugh, truly laugh, and you can feel Wanda’s relief in that moment. You watch as Wanda shows you the rest of the night. You can feel the way she delights in your happiness. You watch your friends gravitate towards you. The way they look at you. The love they feel. The happiness to just have you with them.  

Then you’re on the dancefloor. The vision fades away and you’re left with Wanda’s feelings and emotions of holding you like you are the most precious thing there is left in this world. 

“We love you so much.” 

It was good to see you smile.  Girl you know its been a while.  It was good to see you smile.  

They lay in bed with you all day.  

They hold you as you doze in and out of sleep.  

You always sleep more on your worse days. 

So, they hold you.  

Praying that at least in your dreams, you get to smile again like you did last night. 

Even if it was, just for a picture. 

a/n: how did I do? I know it's been forever since I've posted anything new. Of course I come out with an angsty heavy hitter lol thank you for reading!

[onlyquinns]

hi! since it was jack’s birthday. what do you think about reader giving jack his favourite flowers (if he has one) as a gift and he’s all flustered because it’s his first time actually receiving one? aaaccckkk

jack lounges on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table. he giggles to himself as he watches instagram reels, tucking his chin into the collar of his dark red t-shirt.

you slowly shut the front door behind you, cringing as the hinges squeak, but he doesn’t look up. you shift the trader joe bouquet of flowers from one arm to the other, biting your lip as the brown paper wrapping crinkles. jack looks up immediately, and you tuck the flowers quickly behind your back. jack cocks his head, clocking the movement in an instant.

“what’re you hiding?” he asks, sliding his socked feet off the coffee table. he pushes himself up off the couch, and walks over to you.

“nothing!” you say, laughing. jack tries to grab behind you, but you twist out of his reach and leave his grasping at air. “jack, i promise! there’s nothing!”

jack doesn’t look convinced, a crooked smile blossoming across his face. “uh huh… for some reason, i don’t believe that.” he lunges again and you twist around, bouquet moving to your front. “c’mere!”

you squeal as you run away, circling the couch until jack freezes and goes the opposite way. the two of you end up facing off, one of you on either side of the couch. jack stands crouched slightly behind the couch, arms raised as you pretend to go left and right, flowers pressed to your back.

the two of you circle again, running through the apartment. eventually, you end up in the bedroom, back of your knees pressed to the bed and the flowers behind you. jack cackles and launches himself at you and you move the bouquet to the side, raising it high above his back so he doesn’t crush you into them.

“i got you!” he says triumphantly. “now, let’s see what you got.” jack rolls off of you and you turn to him, tender smile on your face as you present him the bouquet of flowers.

his outstretched hand stops mid air, a soft pouty frown pulling at his lips. “what… what is this?” he whispers.

you hand them to him and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “i saw them in my way home,” you lie, knowing you’d deliberately gone to trader joe’s in search of flowers. “they remind me of you.”

jack looks down at the gentle petals, the smooth color of the peonies in his hands. he looks up at you with big doe eyes, “thank you…” he murmurs. he brings the flowers up to his nose and smiles into the soft petals, eyes fluttering briefly. “i’ve never gotten flowers before.”

you lean into him and jack pulls the bouquet away from him, preserving the flowers from being smushed between the two of you. you wrap your arms around him and he holds you back, immediately reciprocating the touch and tucking his face into your shoulder.

“happy birthday, jacky,” you whisper, and he squeezes you tighter. “my peony boy.”

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake who was raised to not be allowed to ask questions at home and so he just assumes that he’s not allowed to anywhere.

It wasn’t like he was told he couldn’t, it was just that he was often ignored when he did or made to feel like a burden or even straight up stupid when he did. They were too busy to answer questions that could be easily answered if he just thought about it.

It doesn’t help that he’s a naturally curious child and can rattle off a dozen questions in a single minute.

So, when he starts being around and eventually living in the manner he sort of just assumes he’s not allowed to and naturally, this leaves him with a lot of internal turmoil. He does ask questions, but not things that are either able for him to figure by himself or something that he thinks could be a bother for others, things like how to use the new tech that came into the ace or where the fresh linen was.

Bruce at first is impressed by the way Tim adjusted to things so independently and with so little need for guidance, but even when he’s at his lowest he’s able to see how strange it is that Tim seems to put so much stress on himself for things he can get others to do. He assumes Tim is like him and just wants to figure things out himself, determined to solve things on his own.

It comes to a head one day when he watches Tim storm up the stairs while a confused Dick is standing below looking utterly bewildered.

Upon questioning him, Dick explains that he had just been asking Tim if he needed any assistance with his ongoing case as it seemed to be bothering him only for Tim to instantly snap at him about hypocrisy and double standards.

Bruce tells Dick to just give him some space to calm down and instead goes to see Tim himself.

His ongoing my theories since he started to get a clearly head and had talks with Dinah.

Standing next to the door to very clearly show that Tim can leave the conversation whenever he wants, he doesn’t bother trying to hide what he’s doing because no matter how he does it Tim will notice, instead he just stands there a moment until Tim looks up from where he is angrily rearranging his clothes… on the floor… to other parts of the floor.

Bruce holds back a sigh and instead speaks in as steady of a voice as he can, “Ducky, I want us to have a talk, not just about you. Can we please try?”

Maybe it’s the earnest wording and the way he’s invoking himself in the discussion, or the old nickname that Bruce hasn’t actually used for a while, or perhaps both, but Tim deflates like a balloon and goes to sit down on his bed and gives a single nod.

Bruce smiles and something it is so clearly Bruce the person, the parent, the guy whose just trying and not Batman or Brucie.

Bruce sits as well, parallel to him and with as reflex posture he can have with such a tense body, “Tim, why do you feel you can ask for help?”

It’s such an open ended question and Tim can’t help but scoff, his own internal perception making him feel angry at the question and so he snaps, “Because I can’t! You guys never offer help and even when I want to it doesn’t matter because it’s always about what Damian wants for dinner and what times are better for Dick for lunch or- or work! It’s only me doing Wayne Enterprise stuff and I also have to do Drake Industries stuff now and none of you guys help me because I have to do everything on my own-“

Bruce doesn’t want to cut him off but this confirms some things and if so, he needs to do fix some things quickly.

“Ducky, why do you have to do everything on your own? I don’t mean as Robin or Red Robin, but as you, as Tim.”

Bruce can only hope he’s doing this right and that he isn’t pushing in a way that’s going to hurt Tim.

Nothing can stop the way Bruce startles when Tim lets out a guttural scream of pure frustration, standing up and looking so genuinely past it as he shouts, “BECAUSE I ALWAYS HAVE TO! IF I ASK FOR HELP I’LL JUST BE IGNORED OR TOLD IM STUPID OR- OR-“

Tim starts to huff, choking on air as he lets out several years of frustration out only to collapse under Joe helpless he feels.

Staying as still as he can, not showing his concern or his growing heart ache, Bruce leaves a hand palm out out for Tim to take and asks as carefully as he can, “By who, Ducky?”

And Tim, he looks so angry at first and yet when he opens his mouth he sputters and hesitates, trying to say something before thinking better of it a couple times and then… then he just looks defeated as he can’t bring himself to give an example of this because in reality, it hasn’t really happened. Sure there have been times when people have had to deny him, but how rare has that been?

And when has he actually been denied for no reason?

Tim sputters again and this time he actually speaks and says, “But mum-“

Bruce has to hold everything in him back from giving the most heartbroken look because it will definitely be misinterpreted as pity.

Never has Tim look more like a kid even though he’s almost eighteen, he looks like he’s lost in a supermarket and the front counter has called for his parents several times and still he’s alone.

He gives an encouraging nod when Tim goes to speak again and stops, still holding out his hand even as his arm beg isn’t to ache.

Tim manages to say, “If I ask for help then-then I’m being childish.”, right before falling into a ball of himself while also reaching a hand out to grasp Bruce’s.

Bruce himself brings himself to the floor and squeezes Tim’s hand, getting as close as he dares without checking in first but Tim just falls into him.

He can’t deny it’s a bit awkward at first, but eventually he just does what feels natural and cradles Tim to his chest.

A moment passes before either speaks again and it’s Bruce, “Ducky, I want you to know this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have just let you take on so much by yourself and assumed you were okay, I shouldn’t have offered help and shown you that you can ask for it.”

Tim goes to speak and Bruce gives a small squeeze to ask him to wait, luckily Tim understands and lets him continue, “I don’t know everything, I have an idea but I think assuming things is what’s put us in this position in the first place. What I do know is that some things need to change, including how much pressure has been put on you and at the same time, I need you to do something for me. It’s not going to be easy but I know you can do it, Ducky.”

With a sniffle, Tim pulls away from him and looks at him with red eyes, “What is it?”

Bruce smiles, “I want you to try to not assume how we’re going to react to things. More specifically, I want you to do your best to give us a chance to respond to you better or even just differently to how your parents would.”

Tim look ashamed for a second and Bruce knows that expression, it’s the one Tim gets what he feels confused or stupid and so Bruce pulls him close again and says, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Tim. You haven’t made a mistake, it just… you were raised in different way to how we do things, right or wrong. Because Tim, and I’m saying this as clearly and plainly as I can,”

This time he nods along to his words and prays he’s doing the right thing and says, “You are allowed to ask questions.”

Tim starts to sniffle again and Bruce knows he’s done right, “you can ask anything, Ducky, even something small and pointless or something huge and personal or even just something without a definite answer. We’re here to help you, not hinder you.”

This time Tim cries and by all definitions it’s a wail, a heartbreaking and tragic wail of pure emotion as he sobs into his father’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought- god I was so angry and it was all my fault and I-I’ll

Bruce shuts that down immediately, “no it wasn’t, we should have done better to show you it was okay before hand. Yes, you did put more power to this than you should have but by all accounts it makes sense, and at the same time-“ because two truths are possible and important, win for Dialectic Behavioural Therapy “-we had a duty to you to notice and act on it. I knew something was up and I didn’t do anything even though I’m a detective and your carer, and that is on me. I admit that.”

Tim just cried harder and tries to shake his head no but then Bruce holds him tighter and he can’t.

He does feel stupid, like he made a big deal out of something small, but it was so big to him growing up and he wanted better but just… couldn’t take the chance.

But Bruce seems to want to understand and in a lot of ways already does, so…

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.”

Bruce smiles and kisses his head, “Thank you, Ducky.”

Dick and Alfred, standing by the doorway, both give each other a nod and start working out how to explain this to the Damian ‘Change Is My Worst Enemy’ Wayne.

[lucygraysboy]

billy almost makes a silly joke about how he’s always dreamed of being her chair and having her sit on him, but catches himself. she’ll most likely have to endure similar remarks for the duration of this trip. she deserves a moment of peace. he doesn’t want her to think he’s just as disgusting as jesse’s gang. “that’s why you’re the boss, bambi doll,” he muses with a laugh, finding it amusing how he’s usually the leader everywhere but at his own home — that’s rainbow princess’ kingdom. he’ll do anything to make her happy. and that’s how relationships should be, he thinks, tempted to ask whether enough obedience could finally earn him the official title of her boyfriend. “hm? no, no… i love it.” his chest constricts, seeing the brief look of confusion and hurt flash across her olive visage. he’d have to be heartless to wear something else when she hand picked these for him and made sure they matched hers. besides, he genuinely does love these shorts. fuck what his friends think. he’d wear a pink bikini if it made lucy gray smile. “it’s adorable. thank you. i love matchin’ with you, sunshine,” he insists, making sure she’s turned around before tugging his boxers down and pulling the swim shorts up. he also takes off his white t-shirt and trekking boots, swapping the latter for a pair of flip flops that he digs out of his backpack. “all done now.” meaning she can look again. “what do you think?” he strikes a pose, flexing his biceps and sticking one of his feet forward, trying to look like a model. only growing serious when she lowers her voice and mentions the stolen boat, he ponders their option for a moment. “you know what? that actually sounds like a good idea. we’ll send a tip to mr. tunstall.” he’s not a snitch but at the same time he’s fed up with jesse’s complete lack of morals. if the boat belonged to someone like mr. riley, he wouldn’t care much. steal all you want from the bad guys but leave the good, hardworking ones alone, seems to be the rule billy approves of. “we just have to make sure it stays anonymous, okay?” he doesn’t want jesse’s gang showing up on her mama’s porch or bothering joe. “alright. just let me know if you change your mind and want to go home early, yeah? now, we should put some sunscreen on you, yeah?” 

“all right, guess we can handle that.” she plays, sounds like a good idea to her. “course they do, they love obedient boys.” emphasizing the word love, nothing’s more attractive than that after all. “why, thank you,” saying shyly, smiling bashfully looking down at his hand touching the hem of her skirt. “what is it? it’s alright if you want to wear your own, don’t be shy.” lucy gray gently laughs, maybe feeling a little offended behind her gaze that’s tempted to turn sad but she won’t be upset if he doesn’t like them. she picked them up for him, after all. won’t be his fault if he doesn’t like the design. but if he doesn’t like them for another reason she’s just thinking of… well, that’s another story. “oh, alright.” smile taking back over her face, so he does like them?

eyes accidentally going to his hands unbuttoning his pants, cheeks flushing. the brunette shyly smiles again that he ends up liking them seemingly after all, softly smiling at the kiss she gets. turning around, her nose immediately touches the door and all she has to do is cover her eyes with her hands and press her forehead to the door. “well maybe we’ll get it back to who he stole it off of somehow.” lucy gray whispers, that will make her feel better about using it, she can’t just use a man’s boat without guilt on her conscience. they have to find a way to get it back to him. “we could wait about a week after this trip, then give someone a tip where they can find it.” she suggests, quietly. so it doesn’t look like it was any of them. “and about your question… no, it’s not the greatest, but we’ll at least stay the night.” she’s tough, she can get through at least one night.

[kxsagi]

OMG REQS ARE OPEN!! could i possibly get a part 2 to the “she’s nothing like the girl you’ve ever seen before” (basically an extremely pretty reader) but with yukimiya, otoya and aiku? thank youuu :))

“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: yesss ofc!!! pt. 1 is here

also don’t know if anyone got the title reference but it’s a lyric from sexy bitch by david guetta LMAO (that song is fire)

ft. yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, aiku oliver

yukimiya kenyu – “she’s beautiful and mine. please stop looking at her. please.” 

despite being a model himself, yukimiya is so painfully aware of how attractive you are. like, to a spiritual level. 

he’ll walk into a café with you and immediately sense it. the shift in energy. the glances. the triple-takes. 

“you saw that guy, right?” “which one?” “exactly.” 

he’s not jealous per se, but he does pull you a little closer by the waist and gives a few proud side-eyes like, yeah, look. she's mine. admire all you want, peasants. 

if someone dares approach you when he's not by your side, he'll suddenly appear out of nowhere like a protective spell. 

one time you were getting groceries and a guy tried to chat you up by the onions. yukimiya appeared like: “hi, angel. did you find the truffle oil?” you were shopping for rice. 

he’s dramatic. “you know, it’s hard being the boyfriend of the prettiest girl on earth. it’s emotionally taxing.” 

but the truth? every time someone stares at you, he gets a little smug. he knew you were a showstopper. the world’s just catching up. 

otoya eita – “damn you’re hot. what was i saying again? right. we’re in public.” 

otoya’s ego thrives off of your looks. like, yeah, you turn heads, but so does he. and together? you two are obnoxiously hot. 

it’s his favorite game to count how many people check you out during a date. “that’s five. six if you count the waiter. gosh, you’re unreal.” 

doesn’t get jealous at all. in fact, he loves watching you ignore everyone else because it feeds into his delusion that you’re obsessed with him. 

“they can look. but only i get to see your skincare routine up close. perks of being irresistible.” 

otoya will dramatically fan himself if you wear anything revealing. literally falls over the arm of the couch like, “babe, i can’t go out like this. i’ll fight someone. with my bare hands.” 

also won’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulders with the most stupidly smug expression. 

if someone flirts with you in public, otoya will just grin and go, “thanks, i think she’s hot too. but she likes emotionally unstable pretty boys, so... better luck next time.” 

you're his favorite flex and he’s never subtle about it. 

aiku oliver – “you look hot. no, seriously. i need you to tone it down. people are staring and i’m gonna lose it.” 

oliver talks a big game, but the second you walk out in a cute outfit? he’s malfunctioning. 

one time you wore a red dress and he just stood there like: “... i need to sit down.” 

literally grits his teeth when he catches other guys checking you out. “he blinked at you. twice. that’s flirting in guy language.” 

gets all possessive out of nowhere. like you’re walking past a group of dudes and suddenly his hand is on your lower back. 

“damn, can you walk like... less sexier? it’s not safe.” 

acts super calm but is actually fuming inside if a guy even looks at you wrong. guy: “wow, your girlfriend’s gorgeous.” oliver, smiling: “she is. also i’m trained in three forms of combat. just so you know.” 

but! deep down, he’s proud. he knows you could have anyone, and yet you’re his. 

“can’t blame them for staring. i stare at you, too.” “that’s sweet.” “no i mean like. all the time. i barely get things done.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[corroded-hellfire]

First Mother’s Day after the twins. Eddie is so sleep deprived that he forgot. Ryan is on his senior class trip. Eliza is still too little to remember. It’s only when Luke “Scurvy” Munson comes home with flowers that the day is saved.

Eddie wouldn’t change Luke’s middle name, but I invented Luke and I petition to change his middle name officially to “Scurvy.”

I hope all of you moms out there had a wonderful Mother’s Day 💕

Words: 3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie collapses into the blue recliner tucked into the corner of the living room. A sigh rushes out of him as he lets his tense body relax against the polyester. The baby monitor is still clutched in his hand, too paranoid that if he lets it go, one of the twins will start crying again. He just got them both to fall asleep. It took songs, cuddles, and rocking back and forth, but it finally all paid off. 

“Thank God,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. 

For the first time today, the house is quiet. The twins are asleep. Eliza is curled up on your bed with a handful of her stuffed animals, watching Mulan. Luke is out with his friends, and you’re out picking Ryan up. Your eldest son has been on a trip with school for the last couple of days, and the buses are rolling back in to drop the students off at the high school tonight. 

Eddie’s eyes strain to stay open. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep for the entire six weeks since the twins were born. Neither had you, so it amazed Eddie that you were so willing to go and pick up Ryan. The amazement wore off when he realized he was left to do two bedtimes alone. 

I could just nap right now, he thinks. Only for a little while until you come home. The moment he lets his eyes flutter closed though, the front door opens. 

“Oh my God,” Luke says as he steps inside the house. “It’s actually quiet in here. Am I in the right house?”

Eddie forces his eyes open, more out of curiosity for what that crinkling plastic noise is than to see his son. His brows furrow when he sees Luke holding a bouquet of flowers.

“What’re those?” Eddie asks, pointing the antenna of the baby monitor at the blooms. “Were you on a date? I thought you were out with friends.”

“Father,” Luke says with a sigh, “if I were on a date, why would I be coming home with flowers?”

“Ugh, I’m too tired, don’t quiz me.” Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his drooping eyes. 

“They’re for Mother’s Day.” Luke gently bops his dad on the top of the head with the wrapped bouquet. “Sean stopped to pick some flowers up for his mom, so I figured I’d grab some too.”

“That’s nice,” Eddie says, nodding. There’s a beat of silence before it clicks in his head. “Wait, Mother’s Day?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. “It’s tomorrow.” He raises his eyebrows at his father, wondering just how sleep-deprived he is. 

“Shit.”

Eddie forces himself to sit up straight, taking a deep breath as he prepares to stand.

“You forgot? Seriously?” Luke’s on the verge of laughing, but he doesn’t want to irritate an already grumpy Eddie. 

“Let’s see how well you sleep when you have five kids,” Eddie mumbles. 

Now Luke does laugh.

“Yeah, right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

Eddie huffs as he pushes himself to his feet, and Luke heads into the kitchen.

“Fifty bucks says you’re the first one to give me a grandkid,” Eddie grumbles under his breath, heading down the hallway towards his room. 

When he opens his door, Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that Eliza is still awake. There would’ve been no way in hell he’d wake her up and deal with that mighty wrath. 

Large brown eyes peer over the top of her stuffed pig to watch her father curiously. Her golden dragon acts like a pillow beneath her head as the Disney movie plays in the background. 

“Wanna come to the store with me?” Eddie hopes his words reflect more enthusiasm than he feels.

Eliza’s brow furrows, and her head swings towards the closed curtains covering the windows near the bed.

“It’s dark out. Why we going out?”

Eddie grabs a t-shirt from his drawer that doesn’t have holes in it and swaps it out for the ratty one he’s wearing. 

“I forgot that tomorrow is Mother’s Day,” Eddie admits, knowing full well it will end up getting back to you. He knows you’ll give him some slack with how exhausted you’ve both been, though. “We gotta get Mama a present.”

Pig stuffy falling to the side, Eliza bolts up straight and stares at her father with wide eyes.

“You forgot?!”

“Hey,” he teases, coming over to scoop her up from the bed, “you didn’t remember either.”

The little girl gives him an unimpressed look as he sets her down on the carpet. 

“I’m four.”

“Well, Miss Four-Year-Old, are you coming or not?” 

“Gotta get presents from the babies too!” she calls as she runs out of the room to get her shoes. 

“Right.” Eddie nods as he slips his wallet into his pocket. “A gift from six-week-old babies, got it.”

He heads back towards the kitchen and finds Luke’s head buried in the fridge, the bouquet of flowers he had bought already in a vase on the counter. Eddie slaps a hand on his son’s shoulder and presses the baby monitor against his chest.

“I need you to keep an ear out for the twins, yeah? I’m gonna run to the store with Eliza.”

Luke nods, his mouth stuffed with God knows what. He takes the baby monitor from his dad and gives him a thumbs-up. 

“And thanks for saving my ass,” Eddie says. 

Luke chuckles, and Eddie scoops his keys off the counter. The sound of little feet pound down the stairs, and Eddie meets your daughter in the living room. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie opens the front door, and the two of them slip outside.

“Think of what you might want to get her on the way there, okay?”

“Okay!”

Despite the request, your husband knows it won’t be that simple. Taking Eliza to the store to buy something can turn into a grand event. She can never make up her mind and has to hold everything in her hands to study it, like it’s an ancient scroll. 

“What does she want for breakfast?” Eliza asks halfway to Target. 

“Uh.” Eddie thinks as he turns right onto another street. “She loves when you make her waffles, right?”

“Yeah!” This sparks excitement in the small girl. “Can use the Mickey Mouse waffle maker!”

“Perfect,” Eddie says with a nod. “We’ll get the ingredients for that. What do you think we should get from the babies?”

Normally, he’d ask just to include Eliza in the whole process, but right now he’s genuinely hoping she has some ideas. 

“Umm,” she hums, little fingers tapping at her chin. “Sweater?”

“It’s almost summer, babe,” he tells her.

“Oh yeah. Uh, shoes?”

“What about other than stuff she can wear?” Eddie knows Eliza would pick out the most sparkled and glittery heels she could find, and that would be the last thing you need now, as you’re constantly covered in vomit or worse. 

“Book?”

“That’s a good one,” Eddie admits with a nod. You might not have much spare time to read now, but he knows you’ll pick it up eventually. 

Eddie pulls into the parking lot and breathes a sigh of relief when there’s an empty spot right up front. He hops out of the car, Eliza following his lead, and the two of them walk hand in hand into the store. 

There’s a bright red cart sitting near the entrance, so Eddie nabs it. Before she even has time to ask—because she always does—Eddie scoops Eliza up and seats her in the carriage. She grins as she makes herself comfortable, her small fingers sliding into the holes on the side of the cart.

“Alright, where do we start?” Eddie isn’t asking anyone in particular, mostly just musing aloud. But nonetheless, Eliza points towards the book section.

“That way!”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“Two books,” Eliza instructs as Eddie rolls her down between two shelves littered with books of every size. “One from Hayden. One from Scarlett.”

“Makes sense,” he replies as he moves down towards the adult section. 

“Ooh, ooh!” Eliza points at a paperback book with what looks like a White Witch on the cover. “That one.”

Eddie picks it up and scans over the summary on the back. There are witches, faeries, and romance—it meets a lot of your criteria.

“Good pick,” Eddie tells the four-year-old, handing her the book.

She nods in thanks and sets it down next to her in the cart. 

“Look! There’s a dog on that book!”

“Uh…” Eddie grimaces. “I don’t think Mama will want Cujo for Mother’s Day.”

“That’s a weird name,” Eliza says, her button nose wrinkling up in distaste.

“Well, he’s a weird dog,” Eddie replies, eyes scanning over the other books. 

A few books down, he sees a woman on the cover of a paperback that reminds him of you. He picks it up and takes a look at the summary.

“That looks like Mama,” Eliza says, tilting her head to get a better look at the cover.

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie says, deciding this book sounds decent enough. He tosses it to Eliza, who stacks it on top of the other one. “Where should we head now?”

Dark curls whip back and forth as Eliza looks all around her, trying to pick which way they should go. 

“Cards?” she asks.

“Look at you and Luke, helping out my tired brain today. You want to make Mama a card I assume?”

“Yeah!” The look she gives him clearly says duh.

Eddie nods and heads down the craft aisle. He knows there’s probably a whole cache of art supplies at home she could use, but the last thing Eddie wants is to get home and form a search party to look for markers and glitter.

“Okay,” he says, hand reaching out towards the shelves. “We’ve got construction paper, markers—ooh wait, sparkly markers. What else?”

Eliza happily claps her hands at the exciting new markers she gets to use.

“Stickers?” she asks.

“What kind?” He rolls her down towards the end of the aisle, where the stickers are. There are far too many for Eliza to browse herself, she would take an eternity to look at each one. Instead, Eddie starts to list them off, hoping to make things quick. “We’ve got dinosaurs, butterflies, penguins, Care Bears, Transformers, kittens, turt–”

“Kitties!”

“There we go,” he says, grabbing the pack of stickers, a variety of kittens staring up at him. “Easy enough.”

The next aisle over is the beginning of the baby supplies, and Eddie figures that while he’s here, he might as well grab more diapers. God knows you’re going through them like water. 

“I don’t think she needs those,” Eliza jokes with a giggle. “She’s too big!”

“These might be the thing she’s most grateful for, actually,” he mumbles under his breath. “Any idea what you want to get her?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Eddie drawls, trying to keep any annoyance out of his tone. It’s not Eliza’s fault that he’s worn out and forgot what tomorrow is. “I’ll walk down the middle aisle, and you let me know if anything jumps out at you.”

He leads the cart to the main artery of Target, then strolls slowly down the wide space, giving Eliza time to peer down each aisle and take stock of what it holds. Fortunately, Eliza quickly finds something that catches her eye. Unfortunately, her taste is a little expensive.

“Mama will love this!” Eliza coos. She gestures to the heated back massager and, honestly, Eddie can’t refute the claim. You would love it. You wouldn’t love what it costs, though. 

Eddie sighs and runs a ringed hand over his stubbled jaw. The fluorescent lights hum above, as if also awaiting his answer. The debate rages back and forth in his tired brain, but ultimately, he decides to get it. Is it a bit much? Yeah. But don’t you deserve that? After already being an incredible mother, carrying twins for nine months, and now being an absolute rock for everyone in the house while being exhausted yourself? The least Eddie can do is buy you this massager to help you relax. 

“You are right,” Eddie says as he picks up the large box. Eliza scoots over to make room for it next to her. She giggles when the box is taller than she is. “Next stop, waffle ingredients.”

When Eddie pulls into the driveway, your car is back. It would be almost impossible to get the bags and packages from the store past you. Thinking quick on his feet, Eddie reaches up and jabs at the remote garage opener. 

“Wheee!” Eliza cheers as the car rolls out of the streetlight and into the dark concrete space. 

Eddie puts the car into park, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns around to face Eliza in her seat. 

“Alright, we’re only gonna take in the stuff for you to make your card; I’ll get the rest out once Mama goes to bed. That way she won’t know what we got.”

Eliza nods. “Got it.”

Your daughter shuffles out of her car seat and loops the plastic bag containing her art supplies over her tiny wrist. Eddie closes the garage behind them, and the two head towards the house. 

“Wait,” Eddie says as he comes to a halt. He jogs around to the back of the car and pulls the pack of diapers out. Tucking them under his arm, he pats them as he heads back to Eliza. “This is our excuse for going.”

“Good job, Daddy!”

She opens the door leading into the kitchen, where you’re sitting at the table with Ryan and Luke. There’s a tired smile on your face, but Eddie thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. You look up from your cup of coffee—decaf, of course—and give your husband and Eliza a smile. 

“Hi, Mama!” Eliza calls. She plops the bag down on the linoleum floor and runs over to you.

“Hey, sweet pea!” You scoot your chair back far enough that you can pull her into your lap. “What were you doing at Target?”

Eliza stares up at you, her eyes widening a comical amount. You purse your lips to keep from laughing.

“How did you know?” she asks, completely mystified. 

Doing your damndest to keep your smile in, you duck your head and point to the plastic bag she left near the door. 

“That’s a Target bag,” you say in a stage whisper. 

“Oh.” Eliza giggles and buries her face in your neck.

Eddie scoops up the bag and sets it down in front of you two girls on the table.

“There are your art supplies, Your Highness,” he says. He turns and sets the box of diapers down on the counter. “And these are for the royals upstairs. Who, I hope, are still sleeping?” Eddie turns and looks over his shoulder with a hopeful smile. 

“Snoozing away,” Luke confirms. 

“Perfect,” your husband says. 

Eliza opens her mouth in a wide yawn, which triggers you to do the same. 

“What do you say we head up to bed, kid?” you ask your daughter.

She nods as she lets out another yawn. A small hand comes up to rub her eye. Eddie makes a mental note to wake her up early so she can make her card for you. 

Eliza’s small arms wrap around your neck, and you stand up, balancing her on your hip. 

“Night, boys,” you say before walking over to Eddie. “Coming up to bed soon?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he agrees before giving you a kiss. Eliza offers him her cheek, and he presses one there as well. “Goodnight, my beautiful ladies.”

As you walk towards the stairs, Eliza lays her head down on your shoulder, and you hold her a little bit tighter. Eddie watches until you start up the stairs, then he sits down in the chair you vacated. He lets out a deep sigh and drops his head down on the table.

Ryan cocks an eyebrow as he observes his father.

“You good?” he asks.

Eddie lifts one arm and gives him a thumbs-up. Luke snorts a laugh and leans towards his older brother.

“He forgot what tomorrow was,” he says, quiet enough that you won’t be able to hear. 

“I mean,” Ryan says with a shrug, “I’m surprised he remembers our names these days. He looks like a zombie lately.”

Eddie lifts his head and stares at his eldest child with a blank expression. 

“I take it you remembered, too?”

“Sure did.” Ryan’s mouth quirks up in a smug smile as he folds his arms across his chest. “Bought her a present in the gift shop of the museum.”

“What museum again?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Chicago Museum of Art,” he reminds him. “Bought her a pack of socks that have different famous paintings on them.”

“That’s good,” Eddie says with a sleepy nod. “Her feet are always freezing. Hey, want to help a zombie out?”

“What’s up?” Ryan asks.

“Want to go get the stuff out of my car for your poor old man?” Eddie does his best to give his boys a pleading smile.

“Don’t worry, old man,” Ryan says, slapping his father on the back. He pushes his chair back and stands up. “Us youngsters got this.”

“I raise the best sons,” Eddie sighs, letting his head fall back to the table. 

Luke snorts a laugh and gets up to follow his brother towards the garage. 

Once the door smacks closed behind the boys, Eddie turns his head to look at the clock on the microwave. 

“Look at that,” he mumbles to himself. “Solved Mother’s Day with a few hours to spare.”

Eddie tucks his arms beneath his head and waits for the boys to come back in with his purchases. He listens out for them, hearing the back of the car close. But he hears nothing after that. 

The door leading in from the garage opens and Ryan steps in, arms full of bags, and holds the door open with his foot for Luke to follow in with the large box containing the massager.

“Where do you want it, Dad?” Ryan asks. “Dad?”

Luke peeks around the side of the box and rolls his eyes. He sets the package down on the counter and shakes his head in amusement.

“He’s asleep.”

“Not surprised,” Ryan says. 

“Honestly,” Luke says with a sigh, “what would he do without us?”

[live-love-be-unique]

P. R Nightmare

Series summary: A public relations job typically involves managing an individual or organisation’s reputation and building relationships with the public and media. It generally does not include superheros, terrorist organisations, middle-aged Russian super soldiers who breach media regulations and crushing on a client/ coworker.

This is a Robert (Bob) Reynolds x fem!reader series

Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, no specific details about reader appearance are given. Specific warnings will be provided at each chapter.

After battling the New York subway system — which you’re pretty sure had a vendetta against you — you’d made it to your office later than you’d liked. There had been no time to stop and grab a coffee and breakfast from your favourite little cafe near your office, so you’d have to contend with a stale granola bar that you were hoping was still buried in your desk behind some notebooks and a coffee from the communal kitchen.

“You’re late,” your assistant whispered as you walked in.

“I know, I know.”

“There’s someone in your office.”

“What? Who?” You were certain you didn’t have any meetings until at least 11am, you glanced towards your office where you could make out the shape of someone sitting in front of your desk.

“Congressman Barnes, he’s even more handsome since the last time he came by.”

“Aren’t you married, Dorris?” You smirked, she’d been nursing a crush on him since he’d last stopped by your office.

“Barry doesn’t need to know,” Dorris waved her hand dismissively, smirking as she answered her phone.

While it wasn’t uncommon to find someone waiting for you in your office most mornings, most visitors didn’t come bearing a steaming hot cup of coffee, “You join a new team and you’ve given up on the suits? You’ll break Giuseppe’s heart.”

“He’ll live, I’m sure you’ve referred other senators to his tailoring and I’m pretty sure you get a kick back on each suit he makes,” the man chuckled as he watched you walk around your desk and take a seat. “Hi kid.”

“What do you need Barnes?” You lean forward, resting your head on your hands, offering a wry smile, “I doubt you’re here to discuss the finer points of haberdashery?”

“I’m here to offer you a job,” Bucky says, placing your coffee in front of you.

“Last time you offered me a job, you wanted me to help you impeach Valentina de Fontaine,” you eyed Bucky as you took a sip of your coffee. Valentina had been a little too good at covering her tracks for anything solid to actually stick, the hunt for anything incriminating had dragged on for months. “Is this caramel?” you asked, savouring your first mouthful of good coffee.

“Of course,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This time it’s a little less…political. The team needs an assistant, someone to handle the public relations.”

“Really? You were all doing so well,” you smirked. “I saw the Wheaties boxes.”

“Alexei’s idea.”

“The Russian guy?”

“It was his dream,” Bucky shrugs. As he stands he places a file on your desk, “Think about it”

You watched him leave your office before picking up the file, it contained a dossier for every member of the Thunderbolts.

Bucky’s was first, heavily redacted as you’d expected. You knew a little of his past, or at least what he had shared with you while you had helped him with his campaign, but he had kept the details of what had happened while he was under control of Hydra to himself.

John Walker. Former decorated army ranger and Captain America for a short time before the murder of a civilian in a public setting led to his less than honourable discharge.

Yelena Belova. Former Red Room trained assassin with the Black Widow, working as a contract killer for Valentina before the Thunderbolts.

Alexei Shostakov. The Red Guardian, Captain America’s counterpart in Russia. The one behind the Wheaties box…and ‘encouraging’ people in supermarkets to buy them.

Ava Starr. S.H.I.E.L.D operative turned mercenary who could phase through objects due to a constant state of molecular disequilibrium. You made a mental note to look that up later.

And…Bob? You turned Bob’s, Robert Reynolds’s, part of the file over to find that the page in your hand, containing next to no information about the man, was it. There was a picture — he was cute in a boy next door kind of way — and a few sparse details about the man but nothing more.

You quickly closed the file as your office door slammed open, your 11am meeting had finally arrived. Some trust fund baby who wanted you to fix his public image to keep him out of prison. He was charged with several assault counts, all of which he argued were the other person's fault and daddy’s money had brought him two hours of your time.

After his time was up, he had offered you his number like it was some kind of reward. You declined and dialed a familiar contact.

“Barnes? When do you need me to start?”

[sramoonlight]

Back in town

What if the Batfam got another version of their spidey?

Content you’ll see here: neglected!reader, yandere!Batfam, spidey!reader, female!reader, mentions of death, ATSV x DC

English it’s not my first language, so please be patient

You are spider woman, you’ve been a spider for two years and even when things go hard you make it worth over and over again

That was always your best power, you won’t gave up easily even if the things go hard, so when a spider person appeared to ask you to join his team you were excited.

You lost your universe because of that.

Homeless, you keep living in Miguel’s dimension, he kinda feels guilty about loosing your home like he did something for you to be in this position, he didn’t

But this was your only home now, even if his guard is up not letting himself be seen as something more than a boss, that men sees you as a daughter and you see him as a father

You never had one, actually, you and your mother were by your own not caring about a male figure who could give you comfort or something like that.

So you clenched into that man like your life depended on it

He keeps acting like he doesn’t care, he does

Maybe that’s why you stopped going on dangerous missions

You lived there like nothing happened, missing your mother and the city you used to protect with your life but there was nothing for you to do, only pretend like you were born there.

And that surprisingly lead you to this moment, the moment where you were walking to find Miguel on his “office” if you can call it that.

You took a deep breath hearing how he was humming a song you don’t know, it’s weird to see him acting that way but sure it’s a thing you should appreciate

— Miguel — You spoke, his humming stopped and he looked down to you, the platform going down slowly.

The way he looked at you showed how he is struggling to find the words, a very rare thing to see from him

He walked to you, his hands wrapping around his waist

— I need to send you on a mission — He said in a sigh, like it was a hard thing to say

— I’ll do it, big man! By why would you not just tell Lyla to tell me? — you chuckled imitating his pose

That sent a weird expression to Miguel’s face.

— There is an anomaly in a dimension without Spider-Man —

You swallowed, that type of missions are the toughest but why would he send you and not someone like Jess to do it?

And he wouldn’t send you to do something if you don’t have a reason to do it.

— What’s the catch? — he bites his cheek, the skin tearing by the way his fangs got into it

— There’s a you in this dimension, she was suppose to be Spider-Woman but she died —

Damn that was tough, you looked down thinking about it

A you that died, but your world kept going without you or maybe it wasn’t, if Miguel is giving you this mission probably is because it’ll give you the chance to save a dimension

Like you didn’t to yours.

Taking a deep breath you took his hand

— I’ll do it, it would be just a flash and I’ll be back — that surprisingly set a smile on his face

He ruffled your hair making you laugh and try to pull him away

— I’ll get going now, see you soon —

You tapped your clock, a portal opening as you crossed it.

And everything felt familiar, you were send to a restroom in a school and you can see it as your old dimension

Different, the colors are darker like you could just hide on the shadows not matter the colors you were wearing.

You checked yourself in the mirror, you’re using an uniform

Is this… Gotham Academy? Damn, the you from this dimension lived at Gotham? You are not surprised she died

And that makes you wonder, Miguel didn’t tell you to hide your identity, that means the corpse hasn’t been found

Your other you is probably there, alone in a dark place waiting for someone to care enough to look for her

Anyways, you patted your cheeks leaving the restroom

There was a smile on your face, clinging into the backpack on your shoulder while trying to look from there

— (Reader)! I was looking for you! — a pair of arms hugged you leading you to your classroom.

The chat was something trivial, luckily, your friends talks too much for you to not say anything out of line and keeping some information for yourself

First, the you on this dimension likes chocolate milk, it isn’t something you’ll drink in your nowadays but damn! You drank just a sip and you can guess why she loved this milk

In your dimension, on Brooklyn, you wouldn’t look at the milk boxes because they would be filled with expired milk, you can feel yourself shiver at the memory.

The day at your new school wasn’t something bad, it does have a proper education and you guess it’s because your family is wealthy enough to pay a good education

Speaking of which, you are dying to have this day done so you’ll get back to your mother! She isn’t your mother, but she would be the mother from this version

Probably she didn’t die in that accident, if you’re wealthy enough to afford this school she wouldn’t be working in a gross street with crime all over it.

And the day was over, you left the school with your friend by your side

— Are you walking home again? Damn, Mr. Wayne doesn’t care about your well-being —

What?

Mr. Wayne? THE Bruce Wayne? Your mother married Bruce Wayne on this universe? What a surprise! And damn good! Not even Bruce Wayne could look away from your mother

— Nah, I prefer walking — you smiled at him, leaving him behind.

Now, Where is the Wayne manor? You looked on your backpack looking for a phone but there wasn’t

Doesn’t she have a phone? That’s a thing you’ll tell Mr. Wayne to give you! Now you think about it, you know he has a problem with adopting kids but everyone left him after turning eighteen

Not even his youngest, the one from that failed marriage with the Al ghul’s daughter cared enough to stay and he was just fourteen.

He is going to be a good dad right? Sure he is, he would probably spoil you every day to gain some love for you.

Typing something on your watch you rushed to press a device on an alley, the little spider bot crawling to hide on a safe place

— Lyla, are you here? — You whispered and the hologram showed at your side

— What is it? — she changed her appearance, a shirt with “I love Gotham” on it

— Can you… could you please look where the Wayne manor is? —

You’re helpless, you sure are.

You entered the manor with slow movements, it’s quite late and you are sure your new step father would be mad about it

You don’t want your first memory with him being scolded, that would be so wrong and bad at the same time

Maybe you could stick yourself on the ceiling and go to your room, wait, no, if there is no Spider-Man here that means there is not canon for you to do your usual things and don’t get caught

Damn you have to walk, and the stairs are just in front of the dinner room where you can hear voices.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you walked to the stairs

— Miss (Reader)! — it was worth the shot.

— I thought you didn’t attend school, I’m sorry for not picking you up, come here, let’s eat lunch — the butler, an old man took your arm leading you to the table

The chat between everyone ended, they all looked at you like you didn’t belong

That… that isn’t a thing for a loved child to experience.

You sat down, next to an empty seat probably for you mother, she would be so mad when she sees how everyone is looking at you

The butler sets a plate in front of you with food, it was onions on it

You hate onions.

Probably the you from this universe doesn’t mind them, there is no way anyone would make you eat it if you don’t like it

The chats start again like you aren’t eating there, now it feels weird

Is this family the classical evil one from those fairy tales? You are sure in there the step mother is the villain, but Bruce Wayne doesn’t look like a bad person

And suddenly everything clicks.

Your friend complaining about Bruce not caring about your well being, the butler not knowing if you attended school and.. the reason your body hasn’t been found

No one looked for you.

No one care enough about you

So that’s the catch, the you from this dimension is a no one beside your family, they don’t care about you.

You feel bad about her, you sure do, she died and at the last second maybe she thought her family would care about her but there you are, taking her place

But it feels off, you know every Spider-Man has someone for them to rely when they feel bad or someone for them to look up

Was she really this lonely?

Ah, for her it must be this butler

The one who dragged you to the room even if no one wants you there

Probably this man is the only one who cares about you, there only one who would cry when he finds out you are dead.

You rushed to eat, you need to leave this place quickly

— Miss (Reader) be careful, you are going to chock — you didn’t listen, instead you picked up your plate even if the butler looked like he was about to take it from you

And..

You hugged him, tightly

— Thank you, thank you for everything —

You’re sure he would feel bad about not saying goodbye, probably he would think he had to do more for you even a little more

The feeling of having the chance to do something but being unable, you know it, you are not her, and yet this man needs a way to say goodbye.

You left the room running upstairs, you could only hear a voice

— Isn’t she acting weird? —

Let’s get back to you, you followed your intuition to where your room is supposed to be

It happens to be a place filled with spiderwebs and dust, a place you wouldn’t expect you to sleep and see as a safe place.

Opening the door you realize, you are the protagonist of a weird story where Bruce Wayne is the evil stepfather and his kids the villains

It’s too small, small for a whole manor where at least five people live at

— There used to be posters — You whispered touching the small pieces of masking tape left on the walls

You can see a piece of paper left on the floor like it was just teared off

And… in a small corner, where everything seems to find their reason, there is an altar

With your mothers photo

— So you’re dead even in this universe — You mumbled, your hands moved to grab the photo smiling at the view

In your universe, you had photos of her, but when everything disappeared the photos did too and you don’t have the heart to ask Miguel to see her from the computer

You can’t see her face again, but there is something for you to hold even if it doesn’t feel the same anymore

— You wouldn’t let this happen, you would make this girl happy — it feels off,

You know, you just know the you from this world only finds comfort on the idea of living for her mother

She died alone, alone by the thought of what could be.

That gave you an idea

Immediately, you moved across the bedroom looking for something until you found it

A diary.

— Damn, how lucky I am — You smiled opening the small notebook.

“Dear diary, I’m not going to write dear diary everytime I want to write on you, sorry not sorry”

Yeah, that kid is you for sure

“My name is (Reader) (Last name) Wayne, Am I supposed to present myself? Well I did! Anyways, uhm, the life on Gotham is pretty weird”

“My father, he is too much into his own life to care about me and I don’t mind, I mean, I always thought he left us behind but he didn’t know about me and now he’s forced to take care of me, he doesn’t even pretend to like me”

So, you knew? That feels incredibly bad, knowing no one cared about you but still having to deal with it and shut your mouth because you don’t have nowhere to go

Wait.. left us behind?

“Mom is gone, her illness won and I’m trapped here, maybe it’s better than being on a foster home or maybe the same”

Bruce Wayne… he is your biological dad?

That makes you angry, the only way he cared enough to be on your life was when your mother died

No, he didnt, he was forced to

— Motherfucker.. — a whisper left your mouth and you started to read the diary

All night.

When the sun comes up you realized how late you stayed up, and you don’t feel tired at all

Maybe is the feeling of angry, but you can’t even close your eyes and pretend to sleep

You hate this family, you hate them all, they’re pieces of shit who doesn’t care about you at all and you won’t accept them in your life

But it isn’t your life, it’s hers and she would love to be seen

Maybe you are here to get rid of the anomaly, but why not changing it a little? There is no canon to disturb, and Miguel isn’t here.

That’s the thing, you’re a performer, back in you universe you were a legendary actress shines every time she is performing, you aren’t anymore but the way you can make everyone look at you is still there.

You stayed up all night, your eyes moving up and down reading every word and taking it with your heart, stealing pages from the diary and writing things she could do

You took her way of talking.

Even you stayed up looking at old photos of her in galas, standing next to a man that isn’t looking at her at all

Videos where only her silhouette could be seen, it was enough because you only needed to count the steps she takes or the way her shoulders move when she’s breathing

You memorized it all

By the end of the night, when you had to blink to take the tiredness away you looked at those pages where the script was set

“(Reader) (Last name) Wayne is the first blood daughter of Bruce Wayne, the family doesn’t care about her at all and they ignore her til she died, the media doesn’t care about her either, she could be seen on the news but she wasn’t interesting enough to get her own article

She’s dead, she died by an anomaly before becoming Spider-Woman, but she had the lucky chance to get back to life

She’s a star, she takes all the attention”.

That leads us here, you walked to the living room where Dick, the acrobat brother who you read about on the diary was scrolling through his phone

— Dick! — You called him, making him look up a little

That look of not caring a little bit about you, waiting for this conversation to be over so he could get back to his business

You can guess he is looking for something to escape, you won’t let him

He’ll see her.

It happened too fast, you used your stickiness to stand in your hands and for a moment that grabbed his attention

— When did you learned to do that? You can’t even go a four without falling — he is seeing you!

For the first time, he left his phone behind looking at you with curiosity

He cares

— I learned by looking at you! — liar, he doesn’t need to know it’s a lie

And his eyes shined, for a second

— Ah! That’s all, I have to go now — you stood on your feet fixing your clothes and that made him jump out of the couch

— What if we go to grab something to eat I- —

— Sorry, I have plans — you left the room, you left him behind

And he couldn’t take his eyes out of your frame

A thing you discovered reading the diary, the you from this universe accepts when someone tells her to wait and that’s certainly the reason no one sees her

She doesn’t want to look like a brat desperate for attention, you don’t need their validation

And a thing that makes everyone on this family be appreciative it’s the way you can’t take the eyes out of them, Jason? Is too impulsive and his body is huge so you have to look at him

Tim? He was too smart, too smart to fool and you have to keep an eye to him

You can keep counting their abilities but that isn’t the point, the point is.. this version, she had things to make everyone look at her but she was too worried about being a good girl to force their eyes to look at her.

You don’t.

It wasn’t a surprise Dick started to be more in the manor, you ignored his presence

But you shined, reminding him of everytime he used to ignore your presence

The texts were there, he trying to get your attention and replying to the last invitation the you from this dimension gave him.

You are on the living room, your legs pressed into your chest while you write something on your notebook

The anomaly hasn’t triggered any device you placed to know their location, a long mission you’ll have to do if you want this universe to be safe

What a pain in the ass.

— Miss (Reader) — You looked up, the butler was standing there with a glass, chocolate milk

You know the version from this universe likes it, yet you don’t know why it isn’t on its usual box

— Is everything okay? — he sat down next to you, giving you the glass as you took a sip of it

It’s good, not good enough to take it everyday but it is

Ah, wait

Alfred, this butler used to put the milk for you when you felt sad, usually when one of your brothers rejected you again

Does he..? He knows, he knows you aren’t the same

— it is it’s just.. well, I’m thinking about leaving the manor — You whispered, his eyes opened in fear

Not fear, that wasn’t the word, pain?

This man, you’ll break his heart if you leave him behind and that’s what you wanted

— Father won’t look at me, so what’s the point on being here? Once I turn eighteen I’ll leave —

He looked at you, there’s no words for him to say because you know he’ll try to make you stay but at the same time he understands it

He saw you, I mean, she crying too much because of things this family did to her and if loosing you means you’ll be happy

He can take it

…

He can’t.

He leaves your side looking at the glass where you just drank what could be one of your last cups of chocolate milk, how his heart aches at the thought of not being able to wipe your tears when you feel down

He wouldn’t, but he needs to, even if it’s wrong.

So when the sun goes down and he’s trapped on the batcave by Bruce’s side he needs to say it

— One of the children is requesting a little more money to pay an apartment — he said with a straight voice, no hesitation even if it was a lie

— Tell Damian landlords won’t accept batcow — he kept typing without looking at him

An usual thing for him to do.

— Your third child, master Bruce — that got his attention, he looked at Alfred

— Tim is already out of here, he needs to move? — Bruce asked, like it was a thing he couldn’t believe

He doesn’t, actually but that doesn’t matter

— No, sir, miss (Reader) — and that send all memories about his little girl to him

And, for his concern, there wasn’t one he could recall

All of them where the ones he saw her eating dinner, no more, no chatting or something similar to it

He feels bad, he does why doesn’t he remember anything about his little girl?

— She wants to move? Why? She is just.. — Damn he doesn’t remember, that makes him even more guilty

He doesn’t know anything about her, yet he can’t do anything now that she’s about to leave

Only..

He thought, his head moving fast in a way he could think of an answer, he can make her want to stay

Yeah! That’s a good answer, he can do that

Taking a deep breath, he stood up walking to Alfred

— Is she here? — he asked, Alfred looked up to him and something shined on his eyes like it was enough for him to find something

— She left just an hour ago, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait ‘til she comes back — damn, good, he lost his opportunity to talk to you

God bless him, he suddenly feels like he needs to be by your side at every chance he gets

Why? Why on earth when he didn’t care about you before? He doesn’t know, there’s no answer and he doesn’t care to find it, it’s his baby! His only blood daughter.

The way Bruce moved to go upstairs made the butler smile, you wouldn’t leave if you father cares enough to take you back to his arms right?

And when everything was going according to his plan, the box of chocolate milk was about to expire.

Yes, another spider!reader, Can you blame me? This is too good to not do it

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[curatedcurios1ty]

CW: nsfw, Breeding kink, Belly bulge, Pregnancy fantasy, still gn!reader tho, no reader genitalia mentioned, possessiveness, maybe ooc i actually haven’t met him in game yet.

Thinking about Malleus coming at the sight of you being full

You’re on your back. He’s got his hand on the inside of your knees, basically folding you in half. He mouths at the side of your neck, biting and sucking on every bit of unmarked space.

He’s hitting you deep from this angle. You gasp and shake from every thrust. You open your eyes and look down at where you two are connected.

That’s when you see it.

Every time he thrusts in, your stomach puffs up just a bit.

That can’t be right. You blink a couple times and focus on your stomach.

But then it happens again.

And again.

And-

“Oh my god, Malleus, you’re in my stomach.” It comes out rushed and high pitched.

Malleus doesn’t stop his movements, but he does raise his head to look.

He watches the rise and fall of your lower abdomen. He watches it matching how he plunges in and out of your tight heat. He watches it and thinks about how beautiful you look like this. He wants you to be full like this, full of him, all the time.

He could make that happen. He could finish inside you with the intention of it. You would carry his young. You would never leave him-

His breath hitches.

And he comes.

With a groan, his head falls back into the crook of your neck. This time to hide his shame. You feel his stuttering gasps for air against your pulse.

“Malleus, did you..” You trail off, a little dazed

He lets out a long breath before answering you. “Yes, I,” He’s shaking. “I apologize, I hadn’t meant to..finish so quickly.” He lifts his head up to look at you, and you can tell he means it.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You cup his face and kiss him. “Besides, you made me come earlier. We could stop here if you’d like.” You go to move your legs from his slackened grip, but he pushes them back in place.

“Let me make it up to you.” He whispers, pulling out of you. You feel his cum drip out of you before fingers plug you back up. He drags himself down your body, leaving kisses along your skin.

He stops right in front of your hole. His tongue laps at your most sensitive spots.

“Allow me, please.” And who are you to deny him? So of course, you nod and you see his eye light up as he opens his mouth to indulge.

He devours you.

[riqomi]

MECHANISM ────ㅤ심재윤

심재윤˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff. university au! ──── BOOKSHELF ( 1334 ) tw: kissing. lmk if there's more.

you sit in the far corner of the campus library, same as always—near the window, back to the wall, headphones in but nothing playing. just enough to signal don’t talk to me. your notes are color-coded, margins lined with symbols only you understand, and there’s a half-empty coffee cup sweating rings onto the wood next to your laptop.

then there’s him.

jake sim. sunshine in human form. or at least, that’s what everyone seems to think.

you’re halfway through rewriting a lecture slide into something actually useful when he shows up again—hood up, backpack slung over one shoulder, that guilty puppy look in full effect. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands there until you finally look up.

“you need the seat again.”

he nods. “please. just for a bit.”

you sigh but nudge your bag off the chair. he drops into it with a quiet groan, like even existing is exhausting. his knees knock against yours when he gets too comfortable, but you let it slide.

this is the third time this week.

he doesn’t talk much once he settles in. just opens his laptop, cracks open a biochem textbook, and starts highlighting like his life depends on it. you’ll give him that—he works hard. actually studies. doesn’t even look up when someone walks by giggling too loudly or “accidentally” drops a pen near his feet.

until they stop pretending.

“jake,” a voice says, high and sweet and not-so-innocent. “you’ve been in here for hours. want to grab coffee?”

you see the wince before he even turns. “i’m good, thanks.”

another voice joins in. “we could help you study. it might be more fun that way.”

you don’t mean to glance up, but you do. two girls, both clearly more interested in jake than mitochondria. you wait for him to shut it down.

he doesn’t. not hard enough, anyway.

you sigh and go back to your notes, but you feel the heat of his stare after a second. then—

his knee presses into yours. intentional this time.

he leans over, voice low, just for you. “help me out?”

you don’t say anything. just raise a brow.

he swallows, then does something bold.

his arm drapes across the back of your chair. not touching, but close enough to feel the static between you. when you still don’t react, he tilts closer, lets his chin hover just over your shoulder, and in a voice that sounds far too natural, says—

“babe, do you want to go over the quiz together now or after lunch?”

you go still. not because you’re shocked—but because he sounds like he means it.

the girls blink. shift on their feet. one of them forces a laugh.

“oh. sorry—didn’t realize…”

jake doesn’t even look at them anymore. just starts pointing at something in your notebook like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “this part—did you highlight it ‘cause of the mechanism thing or just vibes?”

you deadpan, “mechanism.”

“right. thought so.”

the girls linger for another second. then leave.

you wait until they’re gone before twisting to look at him properly.

he grins. not sheepish. proud.

“that was shameless,” you say.

“but effective.” he shrugs, that boyish charm kicking in. “besides, you looked like you were about to snap a pen in half. i figured i’d save everyone.”

you roll your eyes and push his arm off your chair. “don’t make a habit of it.”

his smile doesn’t dim. “just until midterms.”

you go back to your notes. he scoots half an inch closer. too close. you don’t stop him.

later, when someone else tries to approach, jake doesn’t wait. he slips his hand over yours under the table like it’s nothing. like it’s normal. you freeze for half a second—but you don’t pull away.

he keeps reading, calm as ever.

and when you finally look at him, there’s no smugness. just a quiet question in his eyes, unspoken but loud: is this okay?

you don’t answer out loud. you just shift your fingers to interlace with his.

his shoulders drop like he’s been holding something up too long. his thumb brushes yours once, twice. he doesn't say anything after that. just keeps studying, your hand in his, as if this was the plan all along.

it’s late by the time you both pack up—lamplight golden and soft against the library walls, your eyes sore from too many hours staring at the screen. you slide your laptop into your bag, jake doing the same beside you, quiet for once. not tense. just… thoughtful. the kind of quiet that follows something unspoken.

you sling your strap over your shoulder. he catches your eye, soft and warm. “let me walk you back.”

you hesitate, but only for a second. “alright.”

it’s cool outside, a whisper of wind tugging at your sleeves. the sidewalk is mostly empty, save for a few stragglers murmuring their way toward the dorms. you walk side by side, his shoulder brushing yours every now and then, and for once, he doesn’t fill the silence with jokes or random facts. just walks, hands in his pockets, lips parted like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

you glance over, catch the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you won’t notice.

“what?” you ask, voice low.

he shrugs, but he’s not convincing. “nothing.”

you stop walking. so does he. the moment stretches—quiet, heavy, full of all the things you’ve refused to name.

“jake.”

he steps closer. his voice is low, rough at the edges. “i meant it, you know. earlier. when i called you babe.”

your breath catches. his eyes drop to your mouth, then back up like he’s waiting for you to flinch. you don’t.

“wasn’t just to get them to back off,” he adds. “i mean, yeah—it worked. but i wouldn’t have done it if i didn’t—”

you don’t let him finish.

you reach for him, fist curling into the front of his hoodie and pulling him in until your mouths meet—hard, certain, no hesitating now. he responds instantly, hands coming up to cradle your face like he’s afraid to break the moment. like he’s been waiting for this since the second he first sat across from you with a textbook and an excuse.

it’s not gentle. it’s built from days of stolen glances and brushed knees and shared coffee cups, from the heat of his thigh against yours and the way he says your name like it’s something worth holding. his mouth is hot against yours, open and wanting, and when your hand slips under his hoodie, skimming the curve of his waist, he makes a sound low in his throat that you feel everywhere.

he backs you into the nearest wall, barely breaking the kiss, his fingers threading into your hair, mouth trailing along your jaw like he’s memorizing you one touch at a time. you let him. let him feel the way your breath stutters, the way your body leans into his like gravity’s no longer optional.

when you finally pull apart, barely, your foreheads touch. his hands are still on your waist, yours fisted in the fabric at his chest.

“i’m not good at keeping things casual,” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips.

you nod. “good.”

his eyes search yours. “so this—”

“is real,” you finish for him. “yeah.”

he exhales, like that one word just took the weight off his shoulders. and then he kisses you again, slower this time. sweeter. the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a game anymore.

when he finally walks you the rest of the way, his fingers stay laced with yours the whole time. and when you reach your door and turn to look at him, he’s already watching you with a look that says i’m all in.

neither of you says goodnight.

you just tug him down for one last kiss, and he smiles against your mouth like he already knows he’s not sleeping alone tonight.

likes, feedback and reblogs much appreciated. remember requests are open !!

[mallory524]

Hii can I request John Walker (or Thunderbolts if u dont write for him) with a reader who like passes out if they overuse their powers?

tyy love ur headcanons!!

(I LOVE THIS!!)

always there for you

john walker x reader

tags- losing consciousness, canon level action/violence, teammates to lovers, comfort, implied no olivia (doesn't affect anything)

word count- 1020

notes- I am a proud John Walker girl and i straight up giggled when i saw I’d gotten a request for him😭(also you’re so sweet!! thanks!!)

The first time it happened during a mission, John thought you DIED. Even days later, he was still thinking about the moment he saw you collapse to the ground. He had rushed to your side in the midst of all the chaos and started frantically trying to find your pulse. Yelena had to tell him repeatedly that this happens to you sometimes, and that you just overdid it and you were fine. John figured she'd laugh at him for "overreacting", but she didn't. Yelena understood, and neither of them ever addressed the tears that had been in his eyes.

That whole incident forced John to address the very real feelings for you that he’d started to develop. You're so attractive and smart, and every time you use your powers, John's just mesmerized by how cool you look. He thought about you all the time, and those 40 seconds he was convinced he had lost you were terrifying. He didn't want you pushing yourself too hard like that again.

He kept worrying that all the energy you were exerting was hurting you. Whenever you guys were on missions, he’d be constantly glancing over at you to make sure you were doing okay. Sometimes he'd step in to help if he felt like you were trying to take on too much at once, even if you were handling things just fine.

As helpful as that all was, you misinterpreted it as John making fun of you. One night while putting your gear away, you noticed him closely watching you, like he was ready for you to collapse at any moment.

"Oh, cut it out, Walker."

"What are you talking-"

"I'm sorry I slowed us down that one time, it won't happen again. Geez," you had said. When you turned to meet his eyes, though, you were floored by the amount of real concern in them.

Instead of arguing back like he always does, John just sort of wearily throws his hands up in surrender. "Sorry. I know you know what you're doing."

Things were different after that. You were both terrible at communicating with one another about your feelings. About 3 months later, you actually started being honest with each other and a relationship started!

Now, you don't feel like you always have to hide your affection or your concern for one another, because it's all out there in the open.

John is way more comfortable letting you know he worries about you than he was before. He has trouble with the words sometimes, but he shows it in little ways.

He washes your suit, awkwardly folds it, and leaves it on your bed the night before a mission. He fills up your water bottle and he makes sure you're getting enough to eat. He knows that if you overuse your powers, you'll pass out anyway and a balanced meal probably won't change that, but he figures it can't hurt. He's your biggest cheerleader, and everyone jokes that he's the one running the fan account they found that posts clips of you from the news and other public appearances. John says that “obviously” he doesn’t have time to run a fan account, but he does at least follow it.

Despite his constant reminders not to overdo it, it still happens. John’s always there to carefully scoop you up and take care of you for the rest of the day.

One night, you guys are way outnumbered, and John's trying to fight this guy who’s definitely been enhanced in some way.

John might be doing okay now, but he's getting tired and the man's started to get the better of him. He's far away from you, and this man is obviously powerful, so you're really going to need a lot of energy to hurl this guy out of the way. That's energy you don't really have.

More people are closing in on you and that man is starting to pummel John and the rest of your friends are getting ambushed too- it's too much. You know you’re running out of steam and now you're getting overwhelmed. You take a deep breath in, try to steady yourself, and you finish this. Your moves are intentional and carefully aimed in many directions, but anyone watching would just see one big burst of light that illuminates the dark street and ends the entire fight. When the dust settles, all of your adversaries are down, but so are you. You don't do that kind of thing often; it's too much at once, and it's too much on your body.

When you wake up, you're in the car, and John is tending to your injuries and Alexei high fives you, saying you did a great job.

You're injured, you can feel that, but you notice John's pretty roughed up, himself. "Are you okay?" you ask him quietly through a yawn.

"Oh yeah. I heal quickly, you know. That guy was just really strong. You're a lot stronger than I think you realize, too."

You wince upon hearing that, even though John's softly smiling at you and clearly not mad. "Yikes, sorry. I was hoping you wouldn't get caught in the crossfire."

He just kisses your forehead.

"Don't apologize. But stop overworking yourself... and don't do that move again, it was terrifying."

"Well, stop trying to take on the scariest people we run into, that's terrifying," you say as you reach for the first aid kit to patch up a long cut on John's face, but he gently swats your hand away.

"No, get more rest. I'm fine. Lay back down. It's a long drive."

You don't even try to argue with him on this one. You're exhausted.

You know how the rest of tonight will go, too. John will make sure no one wakes you up again for the rest of the car ride, and then he'll carry you back into the tower and gently set you down on your bed. He'll be there for you in the morning to help you with anything you might need help with. He'll always be there for you. No matter what.

[padmerry]

Stanford Pines: “and isn’t it suffocating?”

This is basically my attempt to understand the issues of the Stan twins’ relationship from teen Ford’s point of view and the reason(s) for their separation. Was Ford really feeling suffocated by his relationship with Stan? If so, why? And when did it start? When did things start to shift in this direction, if once they were just fine? There’s just so much to unpack.

I don’t think I need to point out, to most fans, where the word “suffocating” comes from. It was a very memorable scene, if nothing else, since a lot of people hated Ford for it.

Behold the scene in question:

I think it’s so obvious that Ford was projecting and actually talking about his and Stan’s relationship here that I won’t even attempt to prove that, hahah.

Now, is this Ford... a) talking about his true feelings regarding his and Stan’s relationship when he was young, even before the science fair incident, or b) lying to himself, as he presumably started to do ever since (but only after) the science fair incident?

First, I’d like to invite you to actually listen to Ford’s voice/watch his mannerisms as he says this, here (timestamped). The thing is that... he doesn’t sound very bitter! He doesn’t sound like he’s throwing shade at Stan. Instead, he sounds and looks—pay attention to his eyebrows—like he’s genuinely puzzled. Does Dipper... really think he’s not meant for something more? Why! He’s so brilliant, with so much potential! Just like Ford when he was younger! The poor boy must be really attached to his sister...

Second, I’d like to invite you to not be so harsh on Ford, as he says that it, nor she is suffocating—the relationship Dipper has with the girl, not the girl herself. Not that Ford can’t be mean! He can be terribly mean, sometimes, especially out of spite. But the man has some limits. He wouldn’t say this about his twelve-year-old niece.

Another thing to be taken into consideration is that Ford was convinced Mabel would be fine, since she had “a magnetic personality.” This is a trait he very likely also attributes to Stan! In TBoB, for example, he was convinced of Stan’s ability to make the waitress laugh. There’s a lot of evidence for the fact that Ford had no idea of how badly Stan was faring and/or would fare without him, due to the idealized version of Stan Pines in his head.

That said, here is the behind-the-scenes commentary on Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

Alex Hirsch: Ford offers Dipper [an] apprenticeship because Ford sees Dipper as somebody who’s special like himself. And that’s Ford’s great flaw, that arrogance. He believes there are special people and everyone else.

Jason Ritter: And that you can be held back by your siblings, maybe.

Alex Hirsch: Yeah, he believes that attachments are actually weaknesses.

It has been said before Alex is too harsh on Ford, hahah. (If you have actually read enough of his interviews and listened to all his commentaries, like I did, you’ll realize he’s harsh on most of his characters, including Dipper and Stan!) That is, however, something also made canon in J3 in many, many excerpts, and stated by Ford himself quite plainly here:

“I thought being a great man meant being alone.”

And of course, his advice to Dipper in the show itself:

“Don’t let anyone hold you [back].” His choice of words is interesting. “Anyone,” not “anything.”

I do believe this line meant exactly what we think it did, since Ford, for all his “Mabel will be fine,” immediately guessed that she didn’t take it well as a visibly upset Dipper returned to his side:

When did he start developing this mindset, though? Before or after the science fair?

I think some of you might have read the (in)famous TVInsider 2016 interview in which Alex states Ford saw his brother as a “bumbling leech” (ouch!) his “entire life.”

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Now, an important fact is that—I think many people fail to grasp this—Ford looking down on Stan doesn’t mean Ford not loving Stan. My boy can and will multitask!

And, of course, “entire life” didn’t actually mean Ford’s entire life! It was definitely an exaggeration on Alex’s part, meant to convey that for most of Ford’s life, presumably from late teen years old to the current age, Ford looked down on his brother.

We know for sure that baby Ford never looked down on Stan, and in fact defended him from the Sibling Brothers in the last Lost Legends comic!

But one thing we also see is how baby Ford already shares, to a certain extent, adult Ford’s ambition:

Another trait, equally important, early on: the tendency to think he was special and/or different from everyone else, for better or for worse. Like one of the very first things Stan told us in his childhood retelling in AToTS, “As if his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough, he also had a rare birth defect: six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.”

As he grows up, he also grows, understandably, very proud of his accomplishments. In Stan’s words, “Ford’s brains seemed to get more impressive every year.”

He grows to embrace the “freak” part of him more and more, both ashamed and proud of not fitting in. Like Bill so gently phrased it in TBoB: “The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak.” (I take all his words with a grain of salt, of course, but sometimes he hits the nail on the head.)

But what does this mean for his relationship with Stan?

I think the first thing we have to know is that Stan is Ford’s identical twin, something that is heavily alluded to in canon and confirmed by Word of God. The first comment from Alex regarding this matter that I could find was this tweet from 2015. Then it was further confirmed in many episodes of the DVD commentaries (the first ones already mention it) and indirectly implied by Bill on the TBoB website.

Why is this even important? Twins of the same gender, especially identical aka monozygotic twins, tend to struggle with identity issues. Not only the same birthday, but the same face—that without having to share even a name.

The second thing is that they only ever had each other. I talk more about their codependency here, elaborating on the differences between the relationships of Dipper & Mabel and Stan & Ford.

Again, I borrow Alex’s words when asked about Shermie’s role in the family as Stan and Ford’s brother in HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview:

In terms of Shermie, I remember asking Rob or somebody at some point, like, “Would Shermie be here, logically? Do we have to see him?” I don’t really wanna see him. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in Stan and Ford being—sort of having only each other and then losing each other because of their different life paths.

Let’s not forget, too, the only time Ford ever mentions Shermie in Journal 3—“Sherman Pines’s,” surname and all:

The best example we have of this in the show is probably Stan’s line in AToTS, “Those bullies may have been right about us not making many friends, but when push comes to shove, you only really need one.” Stan not only acknowledges their dynamic, but sounds very content with it.

Was Ford content with it, tough? That’s... more complicated.

Like we’ve established, these two were identical twins (unlike Dipper and Mabel, fraternal and of different genders) and only had each other (again, unlike Dipper and Mabel), which not only exacerbated their codependency but also their identity issues. They were used to being two halves of a whole. It’s very telling that in AToTS, “the Pines twins” are both called to the principal’s office, even though only Ford should have been called. They were seen as a single entity.

And don’t get me wrong, Ford has always loved Stan so much. Perhaps part of him even enjoyed the fact his brother trusted and leaned on him so much, depended on him both emotionally and to... get a passing grade.

But for some reason, even before the science fair... things still grew quite awkward. From Stan’s Land Before Swine commentary (DVD extras):

Anyway, cut to high school, the guy’s never kissed a girl, prom is coming up, and he asked me for advice. “Stanley, I know things have been a little weird between you and me with college, but can you talk to me about girls?”

The interesting thing here, to me, is that Ford... straight up recognized the “weirdness” between them to Stan’s face! And the fact Ford felt the need to mention it, as if he couldn’t simply ask his own twin brother for advice about girls without making a sort of acknowledgement first! These brothers once told each other everything... How did things get to this point?

First, notice how Stan says “prom is coming up.” The same prom at which they laughed together and shared a moment of camaraderie after Stan threw punch at himself to share Ford’s humiliation.

Which to me points to the fact it was something gradual, happening little by little, hand in hand with the sweetest moments in their teen years.

Imagine you’re Stanford F. Pines, not yet PhD.

You know you are special. You’re both a genius and a freak. You are always praised by adults around you, by your teachers. This starts to go to your head. You cling desperately to the “genius” part of your identity, so you can be more than a bullied freak. You grow even more ambitious. You can see a future for yourself.

You have a twin brother. You love him more than life itself. But everyone talks, and... aren’t they right, somewhat? Just a little bit right? Stanley isn’t a genius, like you are. That’s a fact. Stanley also doesn’t have ambition, like you have. Stanley isn’t a freak, like you are. It doesn’t mean Stanley isn’t cool! But you are... different from him...

And yet, despite all that, he’s your identical twin brother! You can only ever be one half of a duo. A single entity. Even your name, you share with him. He doesn’t seem bothered by that, but you are. Can’t you just be Ford, for once, no Stan? (Ironically, the fact is lost on you that your brother was always more under your shadow than you ever were under his.)

You start to think that the Stan O’ War isn’t anything more than a beautiful, but ultimately childish, dream. It isn’t very realistic, is it? You could be so much more than that. You could actually make a difference. You could prove everyone wrong about ever calling you a freak. You try to breach the subject with Stanley, but all he wants to talk about is this damn boat. And you care about it too, of course you do, but... Doesn’t he care about anything else?

I can see, so easily, the influence of other people on Ford slowly (and subconsciously) growing, even though his love for Stan didn’t diminish. I can see him noticing the mismatch between his ambition and Stan’s ambition, his academic achievements and Stan’s academic achievements... or lack thereof. Again, this is the teenage version of the little boy getting starry-eyed about seeing his own face in the papers. Except now, the possibility of Stan being there with him... doesn’t seem as likely.

Alex on A Tale of Two Stans (DVD commentary), confirming that the rift between them had started before the principal’s words:

A lot of different ideas that we came up with to suggest, you know, what was the moment where things started to change between them? When they went from best friends—and it felt, as we went to draft, that the right moment would be—sort of—as they’re entering the end of high school they have to make a choice about college and the rest of their lives, they’re speaking to guide counselors. That’s when the world at large is pointing out, “by the way, one of you is amazing!” And the toll that would take on Stan.

Alex being mindful of the difference between love and respect, as seen by his commentary on Stan’s condescending love for Mabel in Land Before Swine:

But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves. And Stan loves Mabel but he doesn’t—he doesn’t really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. You know, he loves like her, ah, she’s my sweet niece, but [Stan’s voice] “she doesn’t know anything.”

I can see, also very easily, Ford having some intrusive thoughts, then immediate guilt over them. For example, after someone mocks Stan for his grades, Ford comforts him while thinking, “but yeah, maybe Stanley could really put more effort in—wait, what? He’s my best friend! I can’t think like that about him!”

Stan’s narration over this scene: “The future was looking bright... for both of us.” Oh, Stan... Ford’s smile looks painfully awkward.

Just notice the difference between Ford’s posture and body language there and here in college!Ford’s picture (and, again, look at Ford’s eyebrows, but also the way he leans in Stan’s direction):

It’s important to remember that this, too—the scene in which Ford smiles awkwardly—was before West Coast Tech.

But now, with West Coast Tech, he finally has something solid. Something tangible. A real way to make a name for himself. And he loves it. Now this is the face of true happiness!

He manages to win even the approval of his famously “not impressed” father!

Borrowing my words from another meta:

Pay attention to Filbrick and Caryn’s shocked faces when it’s revealed to them that Ford’s genius can, actually, earn them millions! Pay attention, too, to the way Ford looks at Filbrick when he’s praised by him. He’s very surprised and ecstatic to receive his father’s approval, a very brief, “I’m impressed,” that wasn’t even expressed directly at Ford. Ford doesn’t act as if it’s something he receives every day or casually. He was in fact feasting on crumbs.

Ford also knew it was not unconditional acceptance. From Ford’s point of view, at least, he was worth exactly just as much as he could earn Filbrick, and Bill’s threat in TBoB (“your father won’t want you returning without millions”) touches on that insecurity.

But... What about Stan?, you might be thinking. That was, funnily enough, the only thing that Caryn (who didn’t smile or praise Ford once) wanted to know, too.

He’s visibly very upset by having his brother insulted like that, and he didn’t know Stan was on the other side of the door overhearing their whole conversation. But he also doesn’t defend his brother, like Stan likely would have, and Stan doesn’t see Ford’s facial expression. He just hears silence from him.

And no, young Ford had zero difficulty in standing up for himself or for Stan, as seen in Lost Legends and as explained at length in my previous analysis. My own interpretation is that Ford finds it harder to defend himself or Stan from things that, deep down, he considered to be true: the fact that his polydactyly made him a freak, as pointed out by Crampelter and the Sibling Brothers, and Stan’s lack of ambition (and lack of future born out of said lack of ambition), as pointed out by the principal. I don’t think he appreciated his brother being called “a clown” at all, in the same way he didn’t appreciate being called a freak, but I also don’t think he could bring himself to disagree with the point being made here.

This moment in the series was also probably inspired by a real moment in Alex’s life that inspired the scene in which Mabel overhead Ford’s proposal to Dipper, according to the commentary of Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future:

This idea of Mabel overhearing Dipper and feeling left out actually came from a real thing that happened between me and my sister. This is a weird anecdote about me and my sister but we did this kind of like, sort of competitive improv games when we were in middle school, very nerdy. And we did pretty good, like, our team made it to the international competition every year, and there was this high school team... [...] We had a pretty good team, but there was a team above us, the high school team, that was like, legendary, that we wanted to be like. And when me and my sister went from junior high school to high school, like, this is going to be our last year to do this sort of competitive improv, and I got a call from the high school team saying “hey, guess what? we already raided your team for the standout members, we’ve taken the people from your team that always do good scores and we’re combining the high school team and the middle school team into a super team and we would like you to be on the high school team. And I was like, “what about Ariel?” And they were like, “well, there’s only seven members per team—” and Ariel was listening on the conversation and I remember her like, bursting into tears because they had basically been like yeah, we got two Hirsches [and] we only want one, and I didn’t even blink. I just said, “no, I refuse to be on this team.” Like, I couldn’t, it was just like, this is so messed up, you’re breaking this whole thing apart, like yeah, it’s a great team, yeah, you guys are awesome, but I’m not gonna do this without Ariel. And I just remember being this awful moment where some external pressure was telling us like, oh, you gotta choose, you gotta make a choice. Um, like, and it was like this very personal thing. And so like, that’s a big part of the inspiration of like, somebody comes and says, like, you but not you.

Based on Alex’s reaction to such a proposal, it’s not a stretch to think Ford’s silence here was indeed telling, from a narrative viewpoint. It was a deliberate choice from the creator.

And then... Oh boy, the swingset talk.

“Joke’s on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country,” Stan says, then proceeds to boast about their future adventures, only to end it all with a painful expression that shows he doesn’t believe what he is saying. He knows what Ford is truly going to choose.

Stan asks him what would happen if the college board was impressed with his experiment. “Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country!” Which indicates he clearly didn’t expect Stan to come with him, either.

Then The Accident happens, and Ford reacts accordingly.

It’s fascinating to me that Ford knew exactly what would bring someone like Stan to do something like sabotage his machine. He doesn’t accuse his brother of feeling jealous of his success or of the attention of their father and teachers! Oh no, that’s not your typical sibling drama of competitiveness, nor an easily solvable lack of communication. Instead, he accuses Stan of sabotaging his machine so Ford would stay with him! Which proves he was aware of Stan’s feelings, despite what a good part of this fandom seems to think! And, while it had been just an accident, a dumb mistake on Stan’s part instead of a deliberate act... Ford is right! Stan really couldn’t handle Ford going to college on his own.

He’s right, because we know Stan’s feelings about this. Stan says, in so many words: “Without Ford, I was just half of a dynamic duo. I couldn’t make it without him. And now, thanks to that dumb college, I was gonna lose my brother forever.” I know the “forever” was perhaps Stan being a bit melodramatic (understandable considering his distress) but it also shows us he didn’t expect their relationship to go back to normal, or for the college to be just one passing fancy. He knew it would be just the start of his brother’s career.

And perhaps this is the last thing you’d expect me to bring up at this point, but...

Do you remember this episode? Little Gift Shop of Horrors? It’s often dismissed as non-canon (due to its hidden keyword being “noncanon”), but even if the events in it didn’t actually happen, the characterization remains very much real.

We talk about Ford projecting on Dipper about a relationship being “suffocating,” but Stan was doing some impressive amount of projecting here too, hah, considering that he was more likely than not making up all the stories.

Just. This entire conversation:

Stan couldn’t be more unsubtle if he tried. And of course, Waddles chooses Mabel, his favorite person in the world.

We know whose “favorite person” Stan wants to be...

But again, back to Ford.

Yay, Ford is free of his suffocating relationship with Stan! Free to do things like looking at pictures of Stan with yearning! Writing that he misses Stan in code while yearning! Staring at the Gravity Falls’ lake with yearning because it reminds him of Stan! The last one in particular is very amusing to me because to study anomalies was basically Ford’s dream job and he loved Gravity Falls and... and yet! There is no place in Gravity Falls he would rather stay than the lake...

You might want to read this for the full extent of Ford’s clownery, but just the fact that Ford canonically (per Word of God) carried a picture of baby Stan in the breast pocket of his coat at least as early as his Gravity Falls researcher days to remember his brother by, is... telling.

That is, without even counting the fact that he has actively attempted to replace Stan with Fiddleford, Bill, and then even poor Dipper! Because, again, he yearns! From Alex’s commentary on Society of the Blind Eye:

Ford as somebody who lost Stan is kinda looking for—even though he rejected his brother, he kinda needs, he needs that other person, and he tried to find that in this kinda sweet prodigy and he just pushed him too far.

Yeah, I know. Ford is quite... confusing. What does he want? To use three other people (or triangle) to fill the role of Stan in his life but still reject and stay away from Stan himself? Everything and nothing, at the same time?

And now I need you to bear with me and read this entire excerpt of the HanaHyperfixates’ and ThatGFFan’s interview, most important parts highlighted in bold:

Ford was very much us building backwards. The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it’s like, you know the damage someone’s family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?

And so we came up with this guy who kinda seemed too perfect. And is distant. He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn’t have friendships, he doesn’t have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged.

We know Ford has always loved Stan very deeply—and yearned for his company just as badly—through his entire adult life. So what, exactly, changed in old Ford for him to invite Stan to sail away together again, post-Weirdmaggedon?

Well. I have some hypotheses.

First, he spent forty years separated from Stan, and then almost lost him forever (or at least their relationship), from a certain point of view. Have you ever heard that saying that you only know the value of something or someone after you lose it? Teen Ford had never lost Stan, and didn’t know how much he would miss him.

On that same note, all those years separated allowed him to develop a personality and identity of his own, and a very defined and strong one at that. (Yes, poor Stan meanwhile spent that time pretending to be Ford. Ironic.) The Stan twins have also managed to be competent at what was once their weak spot, something they relied fully on their brother for. Stan has managed to learn and understand complex physics to fix the portal. Ford, on the other hand (and we’re focusing more on his feelings, here), has definitely learned how to defend himself physically.

Second, Ford was severely “humbled by the narrative,” so to speak. He thought he would get to be the hero, when the hero (at least in Ford’s own point of view, which is the only point of view that matters) was actually his brother. “Stanley Pines was the man who saved the world, not me.” His pride—and Stan’s own pride as a reaction to Ford’s pride, but again, this analysis is focused on Ford—was a great barrier between him and Stan. And on what regards his self-loathing and subsequent thirst for external validation, he has learned to seek love in the right places. His family. Stan.

Stan, who has always loved him unconditionally, who never considered him a freak in the first place, who has always tried to make him feel as if he belonged, if only on an old boat. Stan, who after Weirdmaggedon is now his priority, above his scientific ambition, symbolized by the journals he was no longer reluctant to destroy.

Another excerpt from the interview I’ve referenced lastly wraps things up perfectly:

[...] and it’s always sweet to see [Stan and Ford] come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

The codependency is mutual—people really should understand this. I don’t think it ever really went away, not in an emotional, psychological sense, despite the two of them having developed separately for decades, as I have elaborated here. They didn’t return to the same place they started because they have matured as individual persons, but the love they had for each other never did decrease. They know, now, exactly how it’s like to stay away from each other, and they... actively prefer not to.

After all, like Ford himself said, “I don’t just want someone to come with me, Stanley, I want it to be you.”

[monolotus]

Why Seventeen would stop an argument

So, arguments in a relationship are healthy, and the members know how to handle discussions after so many years with their members. But, why would they stop their anger or end their bickering?

SCOUPS: To cuddle aggressively

“You can´t go to sleep angry at eachother" Most people could, your boyfriend tho? He would rather die.

It really doesn’t matter what you two fought about. It doesn´t matter if you two were in the edge or just discussing an online debate- he will make you cuddle him at night.

“Seungcheol, i´m still mad about you killing me in LOL and laughing it off with Wonwoo" Oh, too bad, because he will make you the little spoon and kiss your face multiple times.

One time he didn’t cuddle you after a small fight, and when he turned to look at you, he saw your puppy eyes. "are you that mad?" you asked, and his heart broke. "i thought you didn´t like cuddling after a fight"

After that, he never lets you go to sleep without his arms around your middle.

JEONGHAN: He is just too soft for the atmosphere

You know how he doesn´t fight with Scoups because he just doesn´t create the atmosphere to create a fight?

It´s the very same thing with you.

Yes, maybe he did arrive two nights in a row too late to your house. But he is quick to apologize, promising to spend the whole weekend glued to your side (and actually doing so)

Yes, maybe he did reschedule your date to go hang out with his friends, but he shows up in your favorite outfit of his, handing in a bag of clothing for you for the night.

But, when the fight does eventually break out, he doesn’t yell nor raise his voice. He tries to understand where you’re coming from, and explains his situation.

He will do his best to meet you in the middle of the solution.

JOSHUA: To offer a sarcastic apology and instantly regret it.

That big mouth of his…

You were craving fried chicken, and you had told him.

And, he knew that in his way to your house after his schedule he would pass a restaurant that sells fried chicken… it’s self explanatory, right?

“I’m sooo sorry I didn’t read your mind, M'lady… wait come back.”

So, when that big mouth of his tries to be sarcastic about your cravings, and he sees you rolling your eyes and going on your phone, he knows he talked too much.

He rushes towards you, ready to order the whole chicken store for you.

You really tried to hold in your laughter, but it’s so hard when he is being sarcastic towards himself.

And, oh well, that big mouth of his does say really cute things to make it up to you.

JUN: Because he suddenly feels bad for the neighbors hearing all the tea with no context.

It was a stupid online debate thing.

It really, really was.

But your boyfriend is a hot headed, and you are too witty with your words.

And you two end up raising your voices to make yourself heard over the other´s voice.

The problem? your apartment has apartments walls.

And when you two hear a loud laugh after your boyfriend makes a really bad point, he remembers how thin the walls are.

“wait, are they going to think i’m in the wrong?”

“i need to calm down. i can’t have your neighbors thinking you’re dating a dumb ass”

HOSHI: Because he got too passionate and forgot to breathe properly

he’s rushing trying to find the right words.

he’s rushing as his brain works faster than his tongue.

the problem? he only has two lungs.

“𝑤ℎ𝑦 ᶜᵃⁿ´ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ 𝑗𝑢𝑠��� ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿˀ"

you couldn’t breath properly, he really ran out of breath… from just talking

he became red, laughing it off before hiding his face behind his hands.

Good to say, you won that one round.

in the next one, this was obviously brought up. And also at the next get togheter with his friends

WONWOO: Because he can’t multitask and the microwave just beeped

He really wants to win this argument, he does.

But, the microwave keeps beating, and his attention keeps on going to the little rectangle.

“That was the most passive-aggressive BEEP I’ve ever heard. I have to check on it.”

He was so frustrated as he walked to the kitchten, especially after listening to your loud laugh.

is not his fault tho? He has to put his whole brain to win this argument, but he keeps being distracted by the microwave.

WOOZI: Because your sad face made him laugh by accident

It was a serious conversation.

Jihoon was trying his best to not sound too serious or mean.

He even kept a guide on his notes app to not loose track

But then, he looked up.

“Stop. Why do you look like a guilty cartoon dog?”

Your eyes were bigger than usual, and they weren´t really filled with tears, but the light was hitting enough for them to shine

Ah, the winning writer can´t follow the guide when it comes to you.

MINGHAO: To tell you that your outfit is lacking, even if you’re being annoying

He had had a rough morning, rushed to the afternoon where he was supposed to take you to dinner with his friends.

The thing is, you totally forgot (to your defense, he had told you a week before, and he forgot to remind you!)

So, being rushed to get ready in thirty minutes was putting you on the edge.

You grabbed the first thing you saw that could make a decent outfit.

Your boyfriend was still going off about your lateness, and you could tell he was having a blast by getting to not be the one being late.

“You’re wrong, but also... god, you´re wearing that shirt?”

As much as he would love to see your face when you step out and realise the dumb graphic tshirt you´re wearing, he likes you too much to let you do that.

And, also, he wanted to get nice pictures of you that night.

MINGYU: To take a “sad but hot” selfie.

You had said some pretty... serious? things about the relationship last night

What you wanted and what you needed to change in the way you two communicate, and spent time. Just to name a few.

After that, you left Mingyu´s apartment, leaving him alone to think about what he had said, and what you said.

So, imagine your surprise when you went to check his finsta... and saw a thirst trap?

Sending a "why do you look like you cried?" with the picture to his chat, he was quick to explain himself

“I’m not crying, I’m creating content" was his explaination.

SEOKMIN: To dramatically fake faint and make it your problem

He hates arguments.

For real, he would take all the blame just to not have any bad tension between you two.

Yes, he does understand that healthy relations come from awkard conversations.

Yes, he also hates seeing you upset mid-conversation.

He learned to give you space after a pretty ugly talk, not without letting you know "subtly" that he is not mad.

This time, you had asked him to leave you alone. Just for a couple of minutes, to put your thoughts back in order.

Scrolling on your phone, you could see your boyfriend hestitating to enter the room. Once he did, he tried to be as quick as possible

“I’m leaving. But first I need my charger."

You smiled, how could you not love him?

SEUNGKWAN: To dramatically walk away but come back for their charger

"Oh, so you hate me now?" is the most common phrase to hear whenever you and Seungkwan start bickering.

And, when he hits that line, you got two options: yes or no.

With the "No", he is going to pout, saying he feels hated.

It´s so weird whenever the bickering ends up in "Yes, i do hate you"

But Seungkwan is so quick with his answer-

“I can’t take this anymore...” Followed by collapsing on your direction.

VERNON: To send a meme that proves his point

Dating somebody that just apologizes as soon as the fight breaks in, is so boring.

You two were playing fight, and when an awkard elbow hitted you on the ribs, you were quick to pretend to be mad.

So, you two ended on differents sides of the couch, trying oh so hard to pretend to be mad.

You could see his fingers texting somebody, and as you looked down on your phone, you saw it:

“Check your phone. That meme? That’s you.”

DINO: Because he forgot if he had already moisturized and now needs to restart his whole skincare routine

You were railed-up. going off about what had happened at class that day. Your boyfriend listened attentively, while starting to clean his face.

As you were explaining how childish your classmate was being, he reminded you you were also not taking the high way.

So, when you become red in the face and start going on him having to take your side, he nods. The thing is, you can see in his face he is trying really hard to think about something, you could even see the gears turn in his head.

" Babe, what are you thinking about? Is not that hard to take the side of the love of your life!"

“I can’t argue dry-faced. Give me a sec.”

more / asks & requests are open!

[moonstruckme]

Heyy this is my first time I'm requesting from you so I hope I'm doing this properly. I love your fics so much I literally always go to your profile since it's a comfort space for me. I had a flight today that I had to reschedule because I forgot to make an important document. Thankfully it only came to me having to reschedule the flight but I feel so bad cause I feel like I'm constantly forgetting important stuff and making mistakes and have people scramble around me to help fix it even if they tell me it's ok i feel so so bad. Can you write me a comfort fic around smthn like that? Marauders, anyone of them is fine or poly. Sorry if my request is too specific and thx!! 💜

Thanks for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Walk faster,” you call over your shoulder, laughing.

“Relax.” Sirius’ tone is scoffing. He refuses to quicken his pace down the sidewalk. “They’re not going to kick us out for being ten minutes late, you pest.” 

“They might! It’ll be fifteen by the time we get there at this rate.” 

“And if they do,” James says, catching up to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “you can tell them it was all Sirius’ fault.” 

Sirius scoffs again, but it’s an amused sound. James can practically feel Remus’ fond look directed at your slow-moving boyfriend. You’re all in a good, sunshiney mood after spending a long afternoon at the park, teasing without bite and taking pauses for kisses in between quips. Your idea to make reservations at everyone’s favorite dinner spot, always too busy to walk into on a weekend night, was inspired; James’ heart feels as full as his stomach does empty. Nothing sounds better than tucking into a good meal and then spending the rest of the evening near comatose with all of you on the couch. 

You’re twelve minutes late by the time you make it into the restaurant. (James wouldn’t have guessed, but you make a point to let Sirius know.) You give the hostess your name, and she begins searching for your reservation on her list. 

“I apologize, it doesn’t seem we have you down here,” she says after a few moments. 

You smile, sheepish (and adorable). “Yeah, we’re a bit late, sorry. The reservation was actually for seven.” 

“Right.” The hostess glances over the list again, hesitating. “I don’t see your name here at all, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh. Um.” You begin chewing your lip. James exchanges a look with Remus. “I’m sorry, can you check one more time? Just to be sure.” 

The hostess is accommodating. She has you spell out your name, running through the list again before telling you again, remorsefully, that it’s not there. 

“Is it possible you booked with our other location?” she asks you.

Any remnants of a smile drain from your face. Your eyes round out. “There’s another location?” 

“Yes.” She gives you a thin smile. “We have one south of the river as well.” 

“I had no idea,” you say, voice quieter than it had been. 

“Me neither,” James chimes in in solidarity. You’re getting this look like you think you’re an island. Waiting to be attacked from all sides. 

“Alright, that’s okay.” Sirius reaches over to squeeze your shoulder, sensing with the rest of them your rising embarrassment. “We’ll just go there, then. Thank you.” He shoots the hostess a winning smile and leads you back towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you go outside. “I had no—I didn’t think to check if there was more than one.” 

“It’s fine.” James shoots you a smile. Remus is already on his phone finding the other location. “I wouldn’t have guessed there was another one either, lovely. But maybe it’ll be even better, yeah? We might end up crossing the river every time if we really love it.” 

You look slightly comforted, but then Remus says, almost under his breath, “Oh.” 

You slow your pace warily. “What?” 

“Um.” He looks up from his phone, wincing like he doesn’t want to say. “It looks like the other location closes a bit earlier than this one. Even if they let us keep our reservation, I’m not very sure we’d make it, and with traffic…” 

“Oh my god.” You bring a hand to your face, rubbing harshly above your brow. “I’m so sorry.” 

“We can find somewhere else to eat around here,” Remus tries to placate you. “It’s not a problem. I think we’re all hungry enough that any food would be good, yeah?” 

“Yes,” James agrees heartily. 

You, however, remain put out. Your walk back to the car becomes a trudge, guilt thickening the air around you. 

“Hey.” Sirius bumps your hip with his. “It’s fine, baby. Everything’s fine. We aren’t going to go hungry.” 

“I know, I just…” You shake your head, gnawing cruelly on your lower lip. “I’m always messing this stuff up. I’m really sorry.” 

James watches as Sirius’ brow creases defensively. Remus ducks to try and catch your eye. “What makes you say that, lovely? This could have happened to anyone.” 

“It always happens to me, though,” you confess lowly. A moment later, you seem to change your mind, waving it away with forced lightness. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry.”

“It only happened to you because you were the one with the idea to make a reservation,” James points out. “We still wouldn’t have ended up with a table if you hadn’t done anything. It was just a little mistake.” 

“Okay,” you say, but your voice is quiet. Your smile wan. “Where should we go?” 

“Hey.” Sirius grabs your hand before you can get into the car. He pulls you into a hug. “Get over yourself, yeah?” he says, squeezing your middle. “Nobody’s upset with you. The same thing could have happened with literally any one of us. If you’d asked me to make the reservation, I would’ve known fuck all about there being more than one and done the exact same. So you’re off the hook, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur again. 

“That’s right,” says James, taking the opportunity of Sirius’ distraction to position himself closest to the passenger door. Remus sends him a knowing look from across the car. “If Sirius could have done it, it can’t be anything bad.” 

“Precisely.” Sirius grins. He lets go of you but keeps you trapped with his hands on your shoulders, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Stop punishing yourself. No one is asking you to.” 

You shrink a bit, shying in a way that’s difficult to avoid when Sirius makes his gaze all intense like that. Remus looks to be hiding a smile. “Okay,” you say for a third time, sounding like you mean it. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Sirius lets you go, signaling for you to get in the car with a pat to your bum. “James, don’t think I don’t see you edging in on my seat there. Turn it around.” 

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Maybe If You're Extra Good

aka the Bunker Bunny Buck coda, inspired completely by @newtkelly's fanart that you should look at forever right here. It's a 6500 word coda (if you can call that a coda, this might just be a sequel at this point) of porn. It's just completely porn. The preview is probably the only part that isn't just porn. You can read it on AO3 here, and here's the preview:

Buck hums to himself in the bathroom of their suite and tries to figure out what the fuck his hair is doing. He’s had a few years to get used to the grown out curls, but they still do whatever the hell they want sometimes. Right now, he needs them to cooperate.

“Get your shit together,” he hisses at them in the mirror before perching the headband over them.

In the next room, he can hear Tommy closing and opening a drawer and feels a thrill go through him.

That’s his husband puttering around. They’re on their honeymoon, they’re in New Zealand, because they want to hike and bungee jump and explore. They’d waffled on different places until Tommy stuffed Buck full of homemade soup when he got the flu while they were wedding planning and turned on the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy while he tried not to die on their couch. Then Buck had started feverishly—literally, with a 103° fever—looking up the actual country it was filmed in, found out it was incredibly LGBTQ+ friendly, and that they could do a bunch of cool stuff outdoors instead of just window shop or eat. He wanted that, too, they both did, but rafting.

And now they’re here, and they’re finally over the worst of their jetlag and went out and ate at a really nice restaurant and spoke on each other’s behalf the entire day.

“I think my husband would like…”

“Can you recommend anything for my husband? He’s a fan of…”

“Oh, my husband was definitely ready for a vacation.”

Now it's time for Tommy's surprise. He snaps the cuffs on his wrists, tugs on everything a bit to make sure it’s all sitting right, does a circle in the mirror while craning his neck, and takes a few mirror selfies for posterity before leaning in to fluff his hair up again, tugging a couple curls forward so he has a whole Clark Kent thing going on.

Not that Clark Kent would ever wear something like this.

Well, he might. He’ll have to ask Tommy, he’s the comic book guy.

“Sweetheart?” Tommy calls from the other side of the door. “You okay?”

Buck sits on the edge of the tub to get the shoes on and smiles. “Yeah, baby, go sit down.”

He gets the ankle straps fastened and wobbles to his feet. He’s practiced the walking when he’s home alone, but going from sitting low to standing is still a little dicey. Once he’s caught his bearings, he walks to the door, wishing the clack of the heels wouldn’t give him away, but maybe it’s building anticipation for Tommy. All he knows is that Buck has a surprise for him.

When he opens the door, Tommy is sitting in one of the armchairs in the bedroom with one leg crossed over the other. He’d shed his jacket and tie as soon as they got back to the room, but he’s still wearing slacks and a white shirt that’s now open at the collar. In his hand is his phone, pointed at Buck, but he’s not looking at the screen. Instead, he’s staring at him. For a long moment, that’s all he does, and then the phone clatters to the ground.

“Surprise?” Buck tries, and Tommy just sort of breathes and blinks. “I thought a bunny costume would be sort of funny.”

Tommy’s eyes move slowly up to Buck’s face, and he looks concussed. “This—no. Not fun—oh. Uh.”

Buck bends slightly to tug one of the stockings back into place, letting it settle against his skin with a light snap. “So you like it?”

“Huh,” Tommy replies, but it’s more of an exhalation.

Buck finally steps out of the doorway and around the bed, and Tommy’s eyes drop to his feet. He makes another noise, and his hand forms a sort of claw for a second before relaxing back on his thigh. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his face so red.

“Tommy?” he asks, and his husband looks up at his face and visibly swallows.

“Mm?”

“You like it?” he asks coyly, running his fingers along the high cut of the bodysuit where it’s laying against his hips.

Tommy nods, making another slightly distressed noise.