#he has a grappling hook.. forget it

[wukpng]

arin from last nighttttttttt

[haveihitanerve]

The batkids taking shit from each other- the intimacy of knowing where the other persons weapons/gadgets/things are

The most commonly “pickpocketed” person is bruce, and he gets so used to it/they get so good at it that sometimes he forgets to take it back or replace it. 

Batman and Red Hood are staking out a new villains headquarters and jason is bored so he reaches over to bruces side and pulls out three lollipops, working through them one at a time. Bruce doesn't even flinch, even as jason's hand digs deep into his side to reach the last one. Then later he has to calm down this little girl, reaches for the pocket, and finds he has no more lollipops to comfort this child with. So he reaches over to Nightwing, who is currently in deep discussion with a police officer, and tugs some sweets out from his shoulder pocket and hands it to the kid. Accidentally, he also takes a replacement grappling hook wire with it, since dick is a mess and has all sorts of shut crammed in every pocket thats not supposed to be there, but he just shrugs and tucks it into his own replacement wire pocket. Then dicks line breaks a few days later and he reaches for his pocket- and its empty. So he does a double backflip off the building, lands on top of a swinging red robin, snatches some replacement wire from his boot pocket, recharges his gun and is gone within a few seconds. Tim continues on like nothing has happened. When he lands on the next roof, Spoiler is waiting for him, and he gives her a quick kiss, reaching to the back of her waist band to grab a small knife and throw it at the goon coming up the stairs. A few days later steph is hanging upside down with cass and reaches for her knife, only to come up empty handed, so she just grabs the one cass has strapped to her thigh and peels her orange with that instead. Cass shrugs, drops from the ceiling on bruces shoulders, pecks his cheek and takes one of his daggers from his chest pocket. Three days later damian yeets his katana at Riddler(it misses but the villain is traumatized) but now the young robin is out of a weapon, so he ducks under cass’s legs and takes the dagger, sending it flying into a nearby goons gut. Bruce is both horrified and proud of his children and instates a weekly meeting to double check that every has all of their things. A very startling amount of gadgets and knicknacks are passed from hand to hand at these meetings, returned to their rightful owner. Bruce, naturally, has the largest pile that he has to put away. The kids all snicker into their hands as he glowers, shoving the weapons and pepper spray and gum pieces(“why did you take them if you weren't even going to chew them!!!”) back into his suit as they all finish up an hour before him and just watch. 

[gallaghersgal]

hi hi hi today i’m thinking about carmy (as usual oopsie) and his girl who loves him more than anything. she loves him so much she always supports him with the restaurant, she listens to his ideas, tastes his meals and gives her honest opinion, she makes sure to take care of him because he often forgets about that. she’s just that girl <3

and maybe for his birthday or their anniversary (or the bear’s opening day’s anniversary?) she spends months preparing a book similar to the dozens they have in their living room or in the office at the bear. you know those professional cook books? with the impeccable meal pictures and the chef in deep concentration and explanations about each piece? she spends months snapping pictures of carmy while he’s working at the bear (when the restaurant is closed and he’s trying stuff out), him and the rest of the team, she’ll snap pictures of the meals he makes and take notes when he explains the idea behind it to put it in the book. she asks to take pictures of his notes too and he says yes, she doesn’t tell him what she’ll do with them though (but it’s okay because he trusts her <3) and just compiles everything so she can offer it to him. she adds her own notes and maybe at the end a longer note where she tells him what she thinks of him and his work and how much she loves him.

carmy gets too into his own head and it keeps him from seeing all the good he does, the positive side of things, the fact that he’s loved and he has people who care about him. and this book just has it all <3

-🧸

sobbing bc i started writing this and then accidentally closed it and the draft didn't save so anyways. this is very sweet so here is a mini blurb. sorry for the wait my lovely 🧸

carmen can't believe how lucky he is, to have someone like you as his wife. sweet, thoughtful, smart, and caring. he isn't an emotional man by any means, burying his feelings in nicotine and the rhythm of the kitchen. you've realized that even those closest to him don't know his intricacies, not in the way that you do. it's hard to break the surface of him but you've done it.

a lone tear trails down his cheek while trembling fingers flip the pages of your meticulously crafted anniversary gift. a cookbook, full of the most significant recipes in his repertoire. the pages were adorned with scans from his sketchbook. there were pages upon pages of old draft menus, sketches of unperfected dishes, and his handwritten recipes. each item included a 'professional' photo of the dish—courtesy of sugar and the fancy camera she bought before the baby's arrival—recreated by the bear staff and others you'd tracked down.

but the part that really gets him comes at the end. a faded photograph of mikey, sugar, and himself at the beef, holding up sandwiches and grinning. his childhood order is written in your handwriting, his choices annotated in a way that teases him even through the page.

"bear?" you ask quietly, poking your head into the office. you knew he was opening your gift, you'd been pretending to care about something on the hostess stand. too nervous. your heart is a little too bare on the pages.

carmen looks up with blue eyes sparkling and lays the book down on his desk. "you. c'mere, right now," he mumbles, extending one strong arm to hook around your waist and grapple you into his lap. his soft lips flutter against your neck, jaw, and cheek, and your giggles keep him from kissing your lips effectively.

"happy anniversary carmen," you whisper. his head falls to the crook of your neck, almost like he's hiding. and maybe he is, with what he tells you next.

"you, are the best wife, a man could ever ask for," he mumbles against your skin, each pause is punctuated with a kiss. he sounds choked up, and you pretend not to notice. "an' i thank whatever powers-that-be ev'ry day that i get to call you mine."

[eclec-tech]

Let's get into this "Tech is dead" thing...

Until someone from the show confirms that Tech is dead, I don't believe it. We've seen this before. Echo died in an explosion. Nope. Ahsoka fell when she dueled Vader. That didn't stick. Maul, Palpatine, Leia, Mace Windu...okay, that last one is still in the air. But my point is that we never saw a body. Face it. If they wanted Tech dead, they would have given him a shoulder wound. I lost track of how many times that proved fatal this season.

For starters, it would be a very bad move! Tech was probably the most loved character on the show even before they further developed his character this season. To remove him from the show would deprive a lot of people of someone who gives them a feeling of true representation in Star Wars.

Then there's Phee. That last "conversation" she tried to have with him was awkward and very specific. They animated him in such a way that he was obviously avoiding eye contact. He was uncomfortable. He didn't want to say goodbye. I don't think he knew how. It looked to me like they were setting us up for a reunion scene.

Now let's talk about Hemlock. Him being in possession of Tech's goggles is another reason I think he's alive. When he held out the goggles and said, "I'm afraid this is all I could salvage," it suggested to me that Hemlock has him. It doubly struck me since he had just used the term "fascinating" in the same spirit of scientific curiosity Tech had used earlier in the season with the Zillo Beast. The only way I can see Tech being alive but not captured in this scenario would be if there is a raging river or deep crevasse beneath the train and all they found nearby was the goggles. (Which means that, if he is alive, we will finally get that goggleless Tech we've been wanting to see so badly all this time.)

Let's not forget the most important thing of all. Tech is an incredibly capable soldier. He is resourceful, exceptionally well-trained, and was fully kitted-out when he fell. It's not hard for me to imagine him using a grappling hook and cable or other means to keep from falling to his death. He said it himself. He has the "ability to think clearly in stressful situations". And if Hemlock has him, he's going to need it.

All this gives me great hope for season three. If Hemlock does have Tech, he would have him transferred to Mt. Tantiss on Weyland. Now, Crosshair and Tech are together with other no-longer-Imperial clones. Omega is there with Nala Se, who wants Omega as far from there as possible. Nala Se is no longer in a cell, but working in a lab—under guard, but with access to equipment. Factor in Omega's clone sister and this has all the earmarks of an epic escape episode.

Fingers crossed.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Familiar Faces

Tech x Reader

Summary- Techs death was not a reality you were ready for, you relied so much on his love. After months of grief, you find he might not actually be dead.

A/N- SPOILERS FOR TBB SEASON 3 EP 7. I know nothing is confirmed about Tech, but watching this newest episode has got my brain working overtime with fic ideas!

Word Count- 2,708

The cart creaked across the rail line, sending shivers down your spine. There wasn't much keeping all of you up. Inches from falling thousands of feet to your death. The clouds didn't help either, you couldn't see anything.

You fired away, missing most of the time. Everything was happening so fast. A mission gone wrong. Your thoughts were stopped by Hunter's yelling.

"Three ships inbound!" He informs, even when you saw nothing in the sky- you trusted him. He knew better than any of you.

Shortly you heard them coming, the roar of the engines were loud. Soon followed by it's blaster's shaking the cart.

"Tech we need power!" Hunter commands. You work on pure adrenaline and fire at the ships closing in.

One of them is shot down, but not before it knocks out one of the support hooks. You feel the ground shift down, leaning.

Like a breath of fresh air, you hear Tech's voice. Him yelling back "Echo, Now!" was enough to calm you.

"We're online!" Echo retorts. You can't help your grin rising. Finally, things were looking up.

Though, you didn't need Hunter to tell you three more ships were headed your way.

"Tech, hurry." You called out.

You and Omega blasted at one of the new ships, effectively destroying its wing. It crashed down in a black smoke.

From this black smoke a fourth ship came. It was too quick- it shot at Tech, who was still running towards you. He gave a yelp as he fell off the support beam.

Your eyes widened as you gasped, body craning to try and see him. He had a hard landing, but was standing to his feet on the falling compartment of the cart.

It rumbled and shook, about to crash down.

You ran to the back of the cart, trying to get closer. "Tech!" You watched in horror as he tripped back with the rest of the detached pieces.

His grappling hook barely caught onto a stray metal piece. His body bounced back at the tension. "Don't move! I'll pull you up." You tried to reach his line, but it seemed impossible without everyone toppling over into the abyss.

"I-I can't reach!" You called over comms.

"I will climb up, do not risk falling over." You nodded at this, forgetting he couldn't see you. He was more worried for you than himself.

"Come on Tech, hurry!" Wrecker booms, coming over to see what the status was.

You could feel Tech roll his eyes, "I am climbing as fast as I can!"

His grunts break your heart, he panted as he tried to pull himself up. Storm troopers still fired all around you. One of the blast forcing Tech to fall even further.

"Tech!" This time it came from Omega. Your heart was beating too fast to think and speak. You were so worried.

"Why aren't we moving?" Hunter asks Echo. "The cart is being ripped from the back."

The very cart Tech was holding on to for dear life.

You frantically looked to Hunter. "Wrecker, get him on board!" He instructs.

"No, you're too big." You push past Wrecker to take a step on the falling cart.

It creaked loudly, almost giving out. "NO! Don't!" Tech yells up at you. Your eyes connect through the ripped metal. "Any shift in weight could send both of these carts over."

Incoming ships shoot at Techs line, he dropped down again.

"You must sever the connection hinge. Now!" Tech says.

Your face falls. "Are you crazy! No, you'll go over!" Tears welled up in your eyes. There had to be another way.

Another creak and shift. You were almost thrown over by the rocking.

Tech gave out a heavy sigh. This time he spoke gentle, saying your name. "There is no time..."

"Tech, please no!" You begged. He pulled out his blaster, not looking away from you. He was going to sever the connection himself.

"No!" You screamed, desperate. Your tears were falling faster than ever.

"Plan 99... I love you" He started. With a deep breath you yelled, "Don't you dare!"

"You can't! Please!" You sobbed, still trying to get closer. You heard Wrecker straining behind you, he was trying to hold the falling cart up.

"When have we ever followed orders?"

A shot rang out, he fell.

A piercing scream erupted. You almost didn't recognize that it was your own.

Your instincts kicked in and you tried to leap down, like you could still save him somehow. Wrecker was too fast and caught you, his arm throwing you back into the safe cart.

"No, NO let me go!" You tried to fight off Wrecker, but he was far too strong. He pinned you down easily.

You were hysterical, arms wailing at anyone who kept you from jumping after him. Later, when you were thinking straight- you'd thank them.

"He's gone, he's gone!" You sobbed out, devastated. Your screams filled the air, shocking a few storm troopers close by.

Echo wired the cart to start moving and get everybody to safety.

That was months ago. Just the thought could bring you to tears. You had lost everything you felt the reason to live for. He was your everything. His incompetence for social queues, his punctual speech, his stupidly intelligent brain. All of it was yours, and now it was all gone.

A deep depression fell over you, the only thing driving you was Hunter and Wrecker. They inspired you how hard they fought for Omega. It warmed your heart in your worst times.

It hurt immensely when you heard his name, but it got easier to get out of bed. It got easier to smile again.

Eventually, you reconnected with Omega and started defending Crosshair. Something that was typically Tech's job... You knew you had to take on more responsibilities and make up for the time you were down.

You constantly wondered if Tech would be proud of you.

You and the rest of The Batch found yourselves helping Rex, then... escaping with Rex. An enemy assassin leading the Empire to us.

The nine of you hurried down a secret passage way, to a leach vessel.

The soft clicks of the steps soothed you in some wicked way, even when everyone was running for their lives.

"Stop!" Crosshair yelled out. You turned to look at him, he took a few steps back to look out a carved hole in the stone. "They are coming..."

Just then, a shot rang out. Another assassin hung from the inner walls.

Crosshair ducked behind the wall, "Go, I'll handle it."

The rest of the squad moved down, but you stayed. "I'll help."

That was until you peaked around the hole, getting a glimpse of the man. A rush a deja vu consumed you. Your breath quickened. Why was this man so familiar?

You pushed it down, you had already let your feelings get the best of you too many times. It can't happen again. You fired at him, Crosshair backing you up.

Crosshair put an explosive at the end of his shotgun, catching the man off guard. It threw him off the wall. The two of you headed to the ship.

A blast to the ship sent all of you crashing down. You briefly heard Rex sending Echo a message about an extraction.

Commotion ensued, but it all ended with you falling and getting a bad headache. Your helmet did not do much to cushion the hit.

The rest of the team was briefly recovering from the crash as well, but you had to get a move on.

"We've got attack shuttles inbound." Hunter noted.

"This way." Rex lead.

You traveled on foot in the woods, trying to lose the storm troopers. Fighting them off was light work. One however, stood out from the rest.

Crosshair proved your suspicions when he frantically turned around, gun raised.

"What is it?" Hunter questioned. He got his answer when the assassin shot at us.

With our numbers down and the assassin having the upper hand, Crosshair suggested "I'll draw his fire out. Get to the rendezvous."

You heard Omegas small voice through comms, "I don't like that idea..."

"Too bad." He responds, already crouched behind a rock to fire.

Looking at Omegas worried gaze, "Go, I'll make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Omega nods at you, then joins Hunter's side. Crosshair just grunts in acknowledgement.

In truth, Crosshair didn't need you. Though, you both knew that Omega needed the peace of you fighting with him. Two verses one had much better odds.

You heard Rex commanding the rest of the squad to move out. You and Crosshair pursued the assassin.

He gave out hand signals, letting you know he was above you. You nodded, sneaking around.

The assassin saw you easily, perfect. He was distracted just enough for Crosshair to get a hit on him, knocking his balance off.

Your face dropped when the assassin recovered in record time, it was like he hadn't even been hit. He now caught you by surprise when he shot at your hand, you lost your weapon. Damn. All you had left was a blade, which you now grasped.

To your dismay, Crosshair had already taunted the assassin away from you. No doubt on purpose.

It took you a minute to find them, Crosshair had followed him to a waterfall. One with rapids at the bottom. The booming of the current was distracting.

You crouched down, keeping a low profile. Crosshair and the assassin fought vigorously. When you saw an opportunity, you jumped.

You tried to get your blade around his neck or at least cut his suit. The assassin was stunned for a second, giving Crosshair time to recover.

The man disarmed you, overpowering you in strength. You fell back with a thud, your helmet flying off. You scrambled to stand, but was forced to stay down because of a stray blast. It just missed your head.

The assassin seemed to know every single move Crosshair made. Like, he had studied Crosshair's fighting technique multiple ways, There was only one man who you knew did that, and he was dead.

The stranger knocked Crosshair to his knees, a gun to his head.

The man now looked to you, ready to dispose of you as well.

You sat up, but did nothing to fight back- fear of him shooting Crosshair.

He however, stopped in his tracks. You just stared, confused. He looked to you, maybe in disbelief?

He, not moving his gaze, stunned Crosshair. You were in shock that he didn't kill him... The thud of Crosshairs body made you jump.

You slowly rose to your feet, you somehow didn't feel threatened by the man anymore.

Now that you stepped closer to him, he stepped back. He seemed to be fighting with himself... Throwing his blaster as far as he could away.

His hands moved to grip the sides of his head, in pain. He stumbled back, head barred down. With a loud 'thud' he fell on his rear.

He scratched at his helmet, trying to take it off. Something inside of him wouldn't let him. He was in turmoil with himself.

Did you feel pity for the man? You slightly shook your head, baffled at what you saw. He was so vulnerable now, you should have killed him for what he did to Crosshair. At least Stun him.

You couldn't find it in yourself. He looked so confused with himself, so conflicted. Your heart wrenched, but why?

Your own actions shocked you, stepping closer to him. You lowered yourself to your knees, inches away. You were skeptical but determined.

He stopped his frantic movements when your hands moved to his head. He let you do as you pleased, frozen in place.

You kept your eyes on him as you gently lifted his helmet. You only got it up enough to see the mans eyes, a deep brown. That and his face structure was enough to tell you who it was.

The face you spent hours drooling over, embarrassing stares caught at, nights laying with. The very face you saw fall thousands of feet down to a cloudy abyss.

You gasped loudly, scrambling back. No, NO. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him...

Your reaction seemed to have broken him out of his haze. His helmet fell back down, covering his face. He, almost instinctively, moved to you. You were too shocked to fight back. He swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you up.

The grip was tight, you winced. The man realized his mistake immediately and loosened the grip. if he wanted to kill you, why was he worried about your wrist?

When you were sitting back up, the man reclined on his knees. He slowly moved his hands up to the helmet again, this time with more control.

He raised it completely off. It was him.

Both hands moved to cover your gaping mouth. How? HOW?

"T-Tech?" You called out, voice cracking.

He squinted his eyes and had one hand holding the side of his head in pain.

"You must take Crosshair and run, now." He ended by saying you name desperately.

"W-what? No, I am not leaving you. Tech, what happened? How are you alive!" You leaned to him, wanting nothing more than to hold and kiss him.

He moved back, your touch like fire.

"You have to go. I do not know how much longer I can hold off the chip. I do not want to hurt you." He looked at the ground, ashamed.

"You won't. I know you won't..." You moved closer again, resting a hand over his. You slowly moved it off of his head, holding it. He breathed hard.

"Any better?" You ask. "Yes, I would suspect my will to keep you safe overrided the new chip the Empire has put in my head." You smiled, finally leaning forward to hold him.

The second your arms wrapped around him, you sobbed. It all felt like a dream- well, nightmare.

"I thought you were dead... Tech, oh my Tech." He hugged back, petting your hair. You both frantically proclaimed 'I love you's.' But, he soon pulled away.

"I will not put you at risk any longer." He moved to stand up,

"I just got you back, why are you leaving me?" You couldn't understand.

He stood up, saying your name in a whisper. "I thought I made it clear. My new inhibitor chip is stronger. I am assigned to kill you. I do not want to do such a thing, ever."

"Tech, just please come with me. Rex is with us, he can help remove this one. Just like the others..." You grabbed onto his arm, pleading. How did he expect you to walk away, leave him behind. Especially when you just figured out he was alive.

"I suppose that might work..." He rested a hand to his chin, thinking. More tears flowed from your eyes, he was exactly how he was before. Always calm, always thinking everything through with a steady heart beat.

You looked up at him. "Please, I need you. I-"

"I know. I need you too. I uh- I apologize for shooting you." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "You didn't mean to.." You leaned up to kiss him, but something switched in him.

His face twisted and turned, he stepped back. He was fighting himself again, now a hand reached for his blaster. He looked up, face cold and blank. He pointed the gun at your face.

"Tech, Tech, it's just me!" He didn't care, he had a mission to fulfill. The chip was regaining control.

Suddenly, his body quivered and shook. He fell to the ground. Crosshair stood behind.

"Please don't kill him!" You ran to him, making sure he was aware of the situation.

"I know, his chip... I'll carry him back. Rex can look at him." You were hopeful, he was coming home.

It would be a rocky start, but he was alive. He was alive and half-conscious. That was a problem for when you got back on the ship.

For just a second, watching Crosshair hoist Tech up, you relaxed. The pounding of the water on rocks soothed you.

He was alive...

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I hated the ending, sorry ya'll had to go through that. I didn't know how to end it! I was so motivated with this plot, then kind of lost it. Expect a Crosshair fic this weekend!!!

Tags- (LMK if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[aingeal98]

The other funny in a bad way thing about Bruce beating all his kids so effortlessly in a fight is like oh. So when you took them in and trained them, this is what it amounted to? You took the girl who could previously dodge bullets and now she can't even dodge a grappling hook? Why was Duke more capable a fighter before he had powers? Why did you let Steph's new costume have no eyemask when she started out with one? Dick has fought world level threats with the Titans yet he can't even take down one old man now that he's mostly working with the batfam? Forget the whole Selina and Bruce spiralling out of control thing the batkids deserve to beat Bruce's ass solely for his awful training if they can't even last five seconds fighting him all together.

[weebsinstash]

I keep thinking about just, platonic yandere Batman who forces you to be his sidekick for whatever reason (you're a troublemaker and you need discipline, you're a metahuman and need training so you don't hurt someone, you just genuinely need a family or some shit and he Thinks This Will Be Good For You, maybe he's just straight up fucking selfish and is dragging you along for his emotional benefit alone) but you constantly just make it the utmost pain in the ass experience for him in rebellion

"Alright, let's go over this again: you're cornered in the alley. You have a gunman coming towards you. Your grappling hook is broken, you don't have a weapon, and he's in arm's reach of you. What do you do?"

"Suck him off?"

"YOU DISARM HIM, GOD, STOP"

WayneCorp is a leading manufacturer in blood pressure medicine because YOU are singlehandedly fueling more research and funding into the topic with how much shit you give this man (to the delight of your troublemaker 'siblings'.) Not maliciously or like violently or anything but enough to just absolutely drive him up the wall, total "I'm not mad *leaves the room to break something*" ass behavior

Bruce is over here trying to debrief everyone for a mission talking about like how Deathstroke the notorious killer mercenary has been seen in the area and you've got your feet up on the table biting the corner of your mask "but why is he so FINE though??? Like I'm not the only one who thinks he can get it, right?" and your dear old dad is ready to hang up the cowl for the night and take a good long rest to try and forget what you just said

"You can't make those kinds of comments about Poison Ivy, she's literally a terrorist"

"Girls can have a little bit of ecoterrorism as a treat. She can be my Captain Planet Dommy Mommy. She can kill oil CEOs and i can put my face in her titties and Harley can be our weed smoking girlfriend, it's a win-win for everyone"

"Please, just stop--"

"Do you think Joker's prostate honks like a bicycle horn? Like, do you know from personal experience?"

"OK, we're going into the Bat Hyperbolic Therapy Chamber to discuss why everything you just said was not ok"

[violet-fluff]

💙 Levi x Injured! Reader

Stay Awake

You were originally part of Hanji’s squad, but with your excellent 3D maneuvering skills, Erwin had you switched over to Levi’s squad as they need only the best on the front lines.

You and Levi were already good friends as you both trained with each other during your youth time in the scouts. Now that you are with him twenty-four seven on his squad though, the both of you have become inseparable.

“You two might as well just hook up.” Oluo sneered as he drinks from his water pouch.

Petra squeezes the bottom of the pouch, causing water to rapidly spurt into Oluo’s mouth, making him choke. “Stop being stupid, and don’t talk dirty about your Captain and squad mates.”

You laugh but continue to pour hot water into two tea cups. Before bed, you and Levi liked to chat over tea. “Thanks, Petra. And for your information Oluo, Levi and I are just great friends. We’ve known each other since you were still a child most likely.”

“How romantic. The perfect beginning to a beautiful love story.” Gunther chimes in jokingly causing Eld to cover his grin.

You roll your eyes and finish fixing up your tea tray. “Well I’m headed out for the night. Goodnight everyone.”

“Don’t forget to add that love potion in his tea.” Gunther shouts, causing Petra to yell at him and the rest of your snickering squad.

“These guys are too much.” You whisper to yourself, half annoyed and half tender as you still love these bozos to death.

Making it to Levi’s office, you notice his door cracked open. A small quirk Levi does so you can easily open the door with your foot while holding the teas.

You swivel the door open with your foot and smile as Levi looks up at you from his desk. “It’s about time you got here.”

“Sorry,” You say and place the tray down on his desk, “I got caught up with Oluo and the other two being idiots again. Petra helped me cut it short.”

“Hm,” Levi grunts and starts to fix his tea, “What were they being stupid about?”

You blush and look down to fix your own. “Nothing. Just stupid guy talk I guess.”

Levi watches your face go red from embarrassment. “If they said anything stupid to you I’ll beat their asses.”

You laugh softly. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, are you ready for tomorrow? You should get some sleep tonight.”

Levi huffs and looks down at his blue print. “We have the perfect formation down. Everything should go fine if everyone sticks to it.”

“And by everyone, you mean Erwin?” You ask while eyeing him from the rim of the tea cup as you take a sip.

“That bastard better not change anything last minute out on the field this time. He nearly got Hanji’s squad killed.” Levi grimaces on the memory.

“I’m sure with the earful he heard from both you and Hanji, he won’t do it again.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “I hope so. Is your 3D gear back from the shop yet? I can get you a new one.”

You wave him off as you lean back in the chair. “No it’s ok. Keep the new ones brand new. I’m sure mine will be done by tomorrow. I don’t think it needs that much fixing anyway.”

“It doesn’t need that much fixing?” Levi asks with a raised brow. “Your grapple wouldn’t shoot out a few times. It nearly caused you to fall.”

Levi was always protective over you. When you opted to get your gear fixed instead of replaced, he didn’t like the idea very much.

“The trigger is just faulty, not completely broken. It probably just needs to be rewired.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re testing that shit out once you get it back. I don’t care if everyone has to wait.”

You smile but agree to ease his mind.

——

The next morning everyone is suiting up and gathering their horses when a cadet comes and brings you your gear.

“Y/N, right? The technician had to take another job, so he told me to bring you your fixed gear.” They say while handing you the bulking metal.

“Oh! Perfect!” You thank the cadet and strap the gear to your harness, but freeze when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn around to see Levi with his arms crossed and you roll your eyes. “Yes, I know the drill…”

The two of you walk towards a tree line and you position yourself to a tree farther away. Turning on the gas cans, you pull the trigger and your grapple shoots out to latch on the tree, pulling you to it. “It works!” You shout to Levi with a thumbs up.

He stares at you, still skeptical as his gut doesn’t have the best feeling, but if he saw with his own eyes your gear working correctly then there should be nothing to worry about.

—-

The mission starts to finally come to an end after a grueling six hours. You all need to clear the designated areas outside of the walls as the government wanted to expand the outer notch of Wall Maria.

In the distance, you see an abnormal titan.

“Ahh, the last titan of the day.” Oluo yawns.

You shoot a red flare in the air, signaling to Hanji’s squad a mile behind you that there is an abnormal ahead.

“Y/N and I will handle this one. The rest of you lay behind.” Levi orders as you two snap at your horses to run faster.

“I’ll get its attention as you cut the nape?”

Levi nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

You stand on your horse and shoot your 3D gear into a nearby tree and fly past the abnormal. It quickly swings its arm at you, but you wrap around the tree and dodge it’s first attempt.

“Wow it’s fast.” You say to yourself and you hover in the air for a second.

It swings at you a second time so you quickly push on your trigger to shoot out another grapple, but the trigger stalls.

You anxiously push on the trigger more as you start falling, and your eyes widen as you see a giant arm in your vision. You scream when you feel it impact with your body and you go flying into a tree before falling and hitting the ground.

You were conscious enough to feel one, maybe more, of your limbs twist and the pressure of yourself hitting the ground making your ears ring before seeing black.

“Oh my god! Y/N!!”

“Petra! Don’t touch her!”

You are able to faintly hear your friends next to you, causing you to muster up enough strength to barely open one eye and fuzzily watch as they loom over you.

Petra has tears coming out of her eyes as Oluo holds her back.

“Captain! Don’t!” You hear Eld yell.

Suddenly, you feel the upper half of your body being lifted and your arms falling back behind you as you don’t have the strength to move them. Someone grabs your face and turns your head towards them.

It’s Levi.

You can barely make out his face.

“God-dammit! Look at me!” He says through gritted teeth, shaking your face with his hand. “Say something!”

Hanji’s squad catches up and she jumps off her horse before it even stops. “Hey!? What happened?!”

Levi is still holding your body tightly against him and trying to shake you awake. “She won’t get up!”

Hanji notices Levi is in a great state of distress, and notices the back of your head wet with blood.

She slowly kneels down next to Levi and squeezes his shoulder. “Levi, let’s put her down for a second, ok? I’ll…I’ll help her.”

Levi looks down at your disheveled face but nods and slowly lowers you back to the ground.

All of your senses are blurry and fuzzy, but you feel someone open your eye more and then force the other one to open for a split second before letting it close again.

“Her pupils are different sizes. I’m sure she just has a concussion. A bad one, but something she can heal from.”

Hanji has Moblit wrap your head in a bandage while she examines the rest of your body. “She has a broken arm and a sprained ankle. I’m not sure if her ribs are fractured. That’s something I’ll have to check back at base.”

Levi was seething with rage. “That idiot technician was supposed to fix her gear. I want him fucking dead.”

“Let’s not get too hasty right now, Levi. Let’s make sure Y/N is taken care of first.” Hanji says as she tries to calm him down.

You senses start to come back a little more as you start waking up from your black out and you hear Levi yelling.

“L-Lev…” You try to mutter out his name.

Levi quickly hovers back over you. “Y/N? Can you look at me?”

You weakly open your other eye slowly and see Levi in double vision.

“That’s good. I need you to stay awake.” He orders you.

“Hurt…” You squeak out.

Levi sighs. “I know, but we’re taking you home, ok?”

While Hanji was checking you over earlier, Gunther shot a black flare signaling a formation was down. This causes an emergency team to come assess the situation and they bring along a wagon of supplies.

They would use this wagon to haul you back to base as a horse would be too bumpy of a ride.

Levi sits in the wagon, holding you across his lap and talks with you to try to keep you awake.

“Hanji said you’re not allowed to sleep with a concussion, brat, so stay awake for me.” He orders as he moves hair out of your face.

“What…happen?” You try to ask but the more you start waking up, the more dizzy your head feels.

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

All you wanted to do was take a long nap. You start to close your eyes and drift off when you were snapped back as Levi shook your cheek a bit.

“Hey, I said stay awake. Why don’t you tell me what you use for my tea. You never told me.” He asks to try to keep you busy.

“The tea…I put lavender…” You tell him.

He furrows his brows. “Just lavender? Is that a secret ingredient?”

You manage to give a tiny smile. “Yes.”

—-

A few days pass by and you are now fully awake but still admitted in the medical clinic on base.

“When can I leave?” You huff at Levi.

“When the doctor says you can.” He scolds.

The doctor said you had quite the concussion and wants to monitor you for a few days. Along with the concussion, you went through the pain of them trying to realign your broken leg and wrap your sprained ankle. Luckily your ribs weren’t fractured but you did develop deep bruising all over your body.

“Don’t make a fuss about leaving. You’ll be bed ridden in your room anyway.” Levi says.

You roll your eyes. “But I’d rather be bed ridden in the comfort of my room than in the medical clinic.” You grab his hand. “Levi…you don’t need to stress anymore. I’m fine.”

He scoffs. “How can I not stress when some idiot technician didn’t do his job. He almost got you killed. How can I even trust the others?”

The technician that was supposed to fix your gear forgot to, and instead of saying so, he lied and said the gear was fixed. In his head, corps members going outside the walls were as good as dead anyway.

He was promptly fired…after getting a major ass whooping from Levi.

You frown as well as scrunch your eyebrows in anger. “Kiss me.”

Levi’s eyes widened as he stared at you in silence. “What did you say?”

You grunt and hold your arm as you sit up more. “I almost died without telling my feelings for you. Since I’m still alive, I want to tell you them. But first, I want you to kiss me.”

Levi stared at you longer, contemplating what to do in his head, before he leans forward and puts his lips against yours. You sigh contently against his lips as you grab a hold of the front of his shirt, and he grabs the back of your neck to deepen the kiss.

After a few moments, you feel Levi’s lips quiver and a wetness on his cheek.

Levi pulls away and leans his forehead against yours. “I thought you were going to die.” He chokes out, tears falling down his cheeks.

You wipe away his tears and hold his face. “Well I didn’t. I’m here with you and I’ll always stay by you. I live for you.”

Levi smiles and kisses you again. “I live for you too.”

[williamverse]

There was a storm during my first journey to Dunwall. Thick dark clouds covering the skies, waves crushing into ship's sides. Standing on the ship's deck, I've witnessed something I'll never forget: a Leviathan, rising from the water's surface. It felt like for that spare moment the time had stopped. A giant whale-like creature cut through the water with his fins, glistening against the cloudy sky with his dark skin. Seagulls looked like nothing but countless specks floating around him. His powerful body was covered in countless scars with the sight of which I wondered: how many of them were left by other animals and how many - by humans? Beneath his skin - fat, powering his huge body. Hundreds of other whales were killed for that precious fat, later to be turned into whale oil, that would soon power one of the ships like the one I was boarding. But he was still alive, with his power still flowing through his body, only for him to use. How many nets has he torn? How many hooks had grappled his flesh and than torn out of it with a mighty tail's swing? How will he die: in whalers' hands, getting his flesh turned into food and his fat turned into fuel, or will he die of age, turning his body into a home for a new ecosystem? I saw his eyes, full of pain and hatred, but also of intelligence.

He had enough power to turn over the ship and drown everyone boarding it. But he didn't do that, diving back into the water and swimming away instead. Maybe, if he was trying to avenge himself and other whales, driven by hatred, he wouldn't be any better than humans? I didn't think about that back then, not how I think about it now, after all those years of trial my fate has set for me. In this realm I inherited Leviathan's philosophy.

[Excerpt from Lord-Protector's memoirs - by Corvo Attano]

[dapper-suitor]

After reading Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie I have come up with my own Captain Hook design....

Here's all my citations for why he looks the way he does!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

★ Described as having a swarthy skin tone, which means an olive or tanned complexion; "Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and at last a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been waiting for it. 'Unrip your plan, captain,' he cried eagerly," (Barrie 90).

★ Outfit modeled after King Charles the Second of England; "In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II., having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts;" (Barrie 81).

★ Loves flowers (Yes, actually.), hence the floral patterns on his vest and jacket; "Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer on the harpsichord)..." (Barrie 191).

★ His hair is distinctly dark and curled; "As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance." (Barrie 80).

★ Eyes of periwinkle blue, forget-me-nots; "Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes were as soft as the periwinkle.." (Barrie 189). and, "His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not..." (Barrie 80).

★ Specifically the little thumbnail of him with red pupils represents a later trait we see in the novel, in which when he angers his eyes become red, "His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly." (Barrie 80).

★ Hook has a sort of sophisticated air to him because it is heavily implied in the story that he came from a high-class college in England before Neverland, "To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between the lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her; and he still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. But above all he retained the passion for good form." (Barrie 203).

Note: The grey hair streaks isn't really mentioned in the novel, but I thought it would be a cool (obvious) contrast between Hook and Pan.

[oreosmama]

What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)---Part 2

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It’s how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you’re not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn’t take kindly to you avoiding him, and he’s never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he’s not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he’s seen the proof that you’ve fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: umm so good news is second part is out as promised. Bad news is....this is not the end. I totally plan on making another part, but I don't know how soon that can be done considering life just began again. Guess we'll see. Enjoy!

Word count: 8193

Part 1

In hindsight, you’re not quite sure when you started falling so hard for the handsome guy from the bar. 

Yes, okay, there was initial attraction. Kyle was one in a million when it came to that. 

Then it was the way he looked at you. Like you saying his name and pouring him more scotch made his world spin. 

Kyle just made it so easy. Too easy. 

So dang easy that you felt guilty Jeanne was attracted to him too. You tried to convince yourself for a long, long time that he looked at her the same way. At every girl the same way. 

But that first night turned into the first week, which then turned into the first month. 

Your poor heart ached each time he slipped through the glass doors, grinned at you in relief. 

“Thank fuck you’re ’ere, love. Nobody in this bar knows how to pour a scotch better than you.”

And after that first touch, his warm fingers grappling after yours around the glass, you couldn’t fight it that easily anymore. Sure, you preferred people sober, but each time Kyle imbibed, he wanted a brush of your fingertips, and you did to. 

Everything about him screamed hard yet warm. He was big—special-forces big, apparently. And he had these little scars on his cheeks that you dreamt of at night. 

Where did they come from? Where else was he scarred? Why did a guy like him ever choose war over modeling?

Confounding. 

Even more confounding was that he liked teasing you, and only you. It was a little trampling over your feelings at first, all that fresh hope and nervousness each time he showered you with attention. But then it was steamrolling, too much all at once that you couldn’t think of him without your entire body slipping into a nervous tremble. 

Worst part was that you didn’t even know why he liked you so much. You were just as shitty a bartender as you were a failed medicine-or-anything student. You had nothing too offer him, not your too-big body nor your underwhelming lifestyle. 

But Jeanne… Jeanne was perfect for him. Loved all the stuff he did, hiking and swimming and everything you couldn’t do for five minutes without sweating up a storm. 

And just when it’s been a month and you think you’re so far in the hole for this hot tease of a customer who can’t seem to leave you alone—hot British tease, by the way, because how dare you forget him calling you “darling” with that accent—that you can’t even sleep at night without tossing and turning…

He’s gone. 

Kyle just disappears.

The same Kyle who leaves a perfect, Kyle’s-butt shaped butt-print on the dusty corner seat he loved so much. 

The same Kyle who, on the first night you met, was so damn snockered after seven scotches that he wouldn’t stop professing his love for you. (Not that he seemed to remember that the next day, or any day following, but you still hold the memory near and dear to your heart like the masochist you are.)

The same Kyle who stopped smelling like cigarettes after a while. Who once leaned over the bar just to push a little strand of hair behind your ear, rough fingertips pausing at your temple and brushing the skin in a small circle. “Just makin’ sure you’re safe ’nd sound” was the short mumble from his lips. 

Gone. 

Gave you his phone number before he left, and then hasn’t shown up to the bar for the last two weeks. 

He could’ve—well, he could’ve told you he was leaving. Warned you. Instead of this cold-turkey bullshit, you could have actually prepared. 

God. You wished you’d had time to prepare for this guy you’ve basically just met leaving you?

He’s made a mess of you.

Kyle, though… he’s Kyle. 

And two weeks without him has left you with a Kyle-hangover. You’re all achey and sad and bored—fucking bored. What happened to you being able to occupy yourself with thoughts twenty-four seven and treating men like a distant daydream?

Ironically enough, you miss not missing men just as much as you miss that man. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you clock off after what has become some of the most miserable shifts of your life, and go home, curl up on your couch, and think about Kyle. 

You think about that moment where he’d demanded you for your phone, long fingers curling in a “give it here” gesture, so stern you barely recognized him. You huddle deeper into the leather cushions, feeling in your pocket for your phone. 

Timezones are tricky. Couple that with the fact that you have no idea where he even wound up, and you’re blindly searching through your phone for his contact with both eyes pinched closed, as though you’d be incriminated for the act if you saw yourself do it.

A ringing hums through the air, and you peek just to make sure you’re not being a fool for the second time tonight. Kyle (Hot Guy from the Bar) Garrick slides along your screen, bouncing back and forth so you can catch the entirety of what he’d typed. 

You can hear him saying it, like it’s tainted with his soft, playful tone. 

It’s the same voice telling you to leave a message now, and you’re so stunted by the familiarity of the sound that you don’t speak for another few seconds, having to reassure yourself that, no, that wasn’t actually him. 

A voicemail. You could leave that. 

Like all social interactions, you prefer them with a bit of distance and disconnect anyway, whether that be through phone or several glasses of alcohol. 

“Umm” is all you say for a while, staring down at the ticking seconds in your lap. 

Then “Hey” and “it’s me.”

After another pause, you realize he probably doesn’t know who “me” is, really, so you tag on your name. 

And another “umm.”

“I’m calling because…”

You don’t know. Honest to God. 

You don’t know why you’re sitting here on your couch, back straight as a pin, anxiously tearing your fingers through your hair and watching your phone screen with eyes so wide someone’d think it’s going to eat you. 

“You know, I—I don’t really know why I’m calling. I mean, you asked me to, and now that I’m sitting here, doing it, it kinda feels like a mind game or something. You could still pick up, you know. Put me out of my misery.” 

You pause. 

Wait a few seconds. 

“...But I guess you won’t be doing that. That’s great. Um.” You poke your tongue into your cheek, practically seizing up at this point. “I hope your mission’s going well. You know, stopping the… the bad guys and all that. And I hope that you’re—” safe. You don’t know if anything’s happened to him. It’s been two weeks, maybe that’s why he hasn’t called. 

You think you’re gonna be sick. 

“You know, it’d be really shitty if you gave me your phone number just to up and die on some top secret mission to save the world. I think that’d be pretty rude of you.”

Quiet, again. Still. You’re not even sure why you’d thought maybe you could hear his response. 

But he’s the superhero guy, the special soldier on a secret mission that involves killing bad, bad men and even worse organizations. 

So maybe it’s a little selfish of you to miss him. 

“Be safe. I mean, I’m sure you already know to do that, but, you know. Try harder at it, I guess. For me.”

You end the call and fight the urge to throw your phone as far away as possible, and go about your night like Kyle doesn’t even exist. 

This distance thing’ll be… easy. Maybe. 

~~~~~~

You call him the next morning. Can’t help it. 

Hearing his voice, even if it’s from the damn voicemail thingy, is soothing. Like a balm over your twinging chest. 

Leave him a message at the beep. Oh, you plan to. 

“It’s been,” you glance at your phone, “six hours since I last called you. I can’t sleep, so that’s gonna be your problem too. I had this dream where I was riding a unicorn—and I know you think this is gonna be cute or something, but just give me a second—and so we’re just galloping along in the forest, all magical like, and then suddenly I’m surrounded by these guys in SWAT gear and those helmet-binocular deals that you guys wear.”

You’re picking at your blanket, morning gunk still grimey over your teeth, wondering why your first thought of the new day—five a.m., by the way, and you have work until one a.m. tonight—was to call Kyle (Hot Guy from the Bar) Garrick.

“It was a bloodbath. My poor unicorn had to stab military men, so I’m blaming you for giving me a horrific dream like that, Mr. Military Man. Awful rude of you to drag me into the horrors of war like that. And no, you will not be forgiven until you call me back. Goodbye.”

You can’t go back to sleep. Not after that. You’ve scarred yourself sending something so mindlessly ridiculous to a man who has legitimate work to do—might even have one of the most valid jobs on the planet, and you were whining to him about your weeny nightmare. 

So you spend the rest of your day meaninglessly-choring your way to the beginning of your bartending shift. 

Jeanne hasn’t asked where Kyle’s been. She’s got a new target, a rich businessman who mainly operates in the field of pool floaties. Luckily for him, it’s almost July, which means business is lively, and so too is her interest in him. 

It’s around that time that you realize Kyle was valid in denying her at every turn, but your guilt is still slow to fade. 

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket.  

Kyle.

You whip your finger across the screen, almost dropping the phone in your haste, and read the text. 

Reread it a couple more times, because you kind of don’t understand it.

It’s not heartfelt by any means. Not Earth-shattering. And you ponder over it for the rest of your shift, glancing at it every few minutes instead of responding, because it’s so short and succinct that you get the sense it’s all he could manage during his mission. 

All it says is “More.”

~~~~~~

Calling Kyle becomes a comfort. During breaks, after bad days, sometimes early in the morning when you were too exhausted the night before. 

You feel like a fool after some time. He never once sends another text or calls back, and this time you really think he’s gone. 

But there’s a hole your apartment’s silence can’t quite fill anymore, a quiet where Kyle’s lively chatter used to be at the bar. 

So you fill it like he’s still there with you. 

The third voicemail that you leave him begins with “You never told me your favorite drink.” You spend a half hour rambling about the different drinks you could have made him, how you’re getting better at it in his absence—you’ll even make him another Mai Tai to prove it, if he promised to come back—and how scotch is horrible. You’ve tried it for the first time, and you don’t believe for a second that it’s his preference, even if he’s a hardened soldier trying to wash the pain away. 

You don’t buy it. He’s an umbrella-drink kind of guy. 

The fourth is about how you’re rethinking things. So many things, while he’s gone. You’re rethinking what you want from life, considering going back and giving school the old college try one more time. You’d had these big dreams before you’d been cowed into submission by doubts and debt. Doctor of… well, something. Anything, really. You’d just always thought doctor looked good in front of your last name. 

It looks good in front of Garrick, too. Doctor Garrick, that actually sounds pretty cool, and—oh shit, you don’t mean it like that. Not like you’d be his… 

Anyway. 

The fifth through twenty-seventh voicemails follow the same pattern. Random thoughts you’ve come up with throughout the day combined with ponderings cranky customers have drawn out of you. 

None of it, you’re certain, is interesting to Kyle at all. 

Not when he’s on a mission, taking down the evil guys and saving lives. Risking his own in the process. 

But you can’t bring yourself to stop, too caught up in the text he sent you and how blatant he’d been about his interest before he left. 

No funny business. Just you. 

That’s what he’d wanted. 

And he’d wanted “more,” too. 

Good thing you’re willing to give it to him, highly concentrated and in a large number of doses. 

You’re a giver, after all. Maybe he hasn’t noticed it yet, but if he needs these calls from you, obnoxious little chats about the mundane side of life, you’ll do that for him. Because Kyle is a good guy, and you want that chance, however slim it may be, to prove that he passed on his number for good reason. 

So you keep calling, let the voicemails stack up and up as weeks go on, continue working behind the scenes of his life, hoping it’s not all in vain. 

~~~~~~

Gaz lets the phone drop back down to his side on the barracks bunk, smiling like an idiot at the ceiling. 

He’d been a tad nervous that you’d stop after a while, sometimes considered breaking Price’s no phone rule—he never would, of course; AQ can track the IPs of outgoing signals, and the last chance he’d had to send you a message was just before moving hideouts. 

But they’ve been in too deep the past few weeks to let his wants trump the importance of the mission. 

Plus, you’d obviously understood what “More” had meant. You certainly hadn’t given him less, at any point. There was only one three-day hiatus that made him strangle the shoulder straps of his chest gear so hard the fabric cinched and remained wrought. 

And then you’d called, all apologetic and sniffly because you’d gotten some kind of bug despite it being the middle of summer—which was so fucked, in your opinion. 

They’re flying back tomorrow. Through pure luck alone, it was a shorter mission than most, a two-month intel grab that ended with only enemies KIA, but Gaz knew what was coming. 

Short missions like this meant something big was on the horizon. 

Which meant that he had to make a decision soon to lock you down or let you go. 

Not getting to hear your voice during a mission like he did now? It sounds fucking devastating. But asking you to stick around for his flighty lifestyle, spend months mucking about on your own, worrying about him and his lack of contact—it was a lot. Ultimately it’d be your choice, and Gaz is terrified that he can’t predict what you’d choose; it feels like defusing a bomb with sweaty fingers, or running out of mags in the middle of the field. 

Things were out of his hands the second he put his phone number into yours and begged you to stick around. 

He’ll have to get on his knees this time.

He’s already asked a fellow soldier, one of the American Marines who’d been recruited for a building sweep, for a ride to the hotel. By his count, he’ll be there around eight in the morning, just early enough to catch you and only you. 

Gaz isn’t quite sure what he plans on doing. Something horribly twee, if past experience is anything to go by. Can’t quite get a conscious hold of himself when he sees you. 

And it’d be bloody fuckin’ embarrassing, the way his nerves buzz just under his skin, if he was this excited for anyone but you. 

But it’s eleven pm where he’s at and you just left a message bellyaching about his radio silence again. You’ve found a way to make scotch even worse and you’re going to torture him with it next time you see his face—you promise. Unless and only unless he messages you in the next five minutes with his favorite drink so you can practice. 

It’s terrible and a bit rude, the way you can toy with his feelings through kindness. His little puppet master twisting his heartstrings so tight he can never truly unravel, all with the tenderness of a damn saint. 

Gaz stares at your name in his phone. He works out the hours, then the minutes and eventually seconds until he gets to see you, and can finally stop fawning over the photo he’d found from your public high school’s online yearbook. He’s pretty sure you don’t have that zit anymore, at least, but it’s been too damn long and he’s due a verifiable fact-check. 

His return can’t be too big. You’re not a pomp-and-circumstance kind of gal, too uncertain of your own worth to ever happily accept flowers and fanfare, even if it was just the two of you. 

He’ll work you up to things like that. Over months. Years, hopefully. A lifetime, if the universe ever acknowledges the debt it owes him for the shit he puts up with. 

But for now, he plans for small. Modest and tame. 

Something to soothe that little prey heart that itches to run each time he flirts too loud and smiles too widely (because for some reason you can’t believe you draw it out of him, which, admittedly, preserves his pride a bit). 

Suddenly, he’s got just the thing. 

~~~~~~

Eight-fucking-thirty a.m. 

Who on God’s green Earth opens a bar at eight-thirty a.m.?

Surely not the hotel director, who you’ve only seen once and with pinot staining his white mustache, of all things. 

Couldn’t be one of the many, many bar managers who, thank God for them, only work at night. They couldn’t imagine working a bar in the morning, only serving those depressing early birds and the real addicts, haha. 

Real. Fucking. Funny. 

You’re not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. 

But when Jeanne says these are the hours that nobody else wants, during which almost no customers show up, and implies that you’ll pretty much be paid to sit on your ass and do nothing, well… by God, you will be there at eight-thirty sharp, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

Except the only thing that’s bright is the goddamned sun outside the windows—too bright—and your bushy tail is more of a bushy mane, as you woke up about thirty minutes ago, almost late to serve fucking no one, and didn’t bother to tame it with any manner of spray or hairbrush. 

To be frank, you’re a disaster. You look like you were caught in the Tasmanian Devil’s warpath, and you have the attitude to match. 

You thunk your bag down on one of the few empty shelves in the bar’s storage room and groan, wiping a hand over your face. The only thing that could make you feel better right now would be…

God, you just love to torture yourself, don’t you?

It’s been two months. Kyle’s not going to answer. He hasn’t responded to your texts. You don’t even know if he’s alive. 

But you miss him like he is. You miss him like you know he’s on the cusp of returning any second now, and you’re standing at the door, waiting to tear it open and pull him in so close you can smell that cheeky cologne he barely deserves to wear. 

Woodsy musk and cinnamon. Shameful that you remember it so distinctly. That you’d once wandered into the men’s shampoo aisle in a Walmart to try and figure out the word for the dark, elusive scent that clung to him like a second skin. 

It wasn’t there, which means he’s fancier than your budget can comprehend. 

Or that’s just him, and he exuded it so robustly when he’d been here that you can smell it now, drawing you out of the backroom with your phone in hand, thumb hovering over his name. 

Music is playing, which is confusing because you haven’t touched the radio yet. It’s the slow croon of your guilty pleasure song, the one you love ‘ironically.’ The song you’d confided in only one other soul about. 

“Careless Whisper” plays with a slow cadence in the furthest reaches of the bar.

It comes from the same place where two brown eyes are sliding over you at a debilitating pace. 

“Fuck me” falls from those lips, that wicked British accent, as he takes in your hips for a while, then your chest, where your heart pounds so damn hard you think he can see it. Then he watches the little jump in your throat as you swallow, and he wets over his lips before glancing up to yours. Stays there, for a long, long time. 

Then he meets your eyes, and the stutter in his breath is so damn loud.

Kyle. 

Your soldier. 

The man you’ve been calling for months, with no response. 

His face is littered with an array of new wounds, like little scrapes on the apples of his cheeks you get the most bizarre urge to run your tongue over. A split in the smooth skin of his forehead, a paling scar seated in his unshaven jaw. 

His hair’s a little more clean-cut. Perks of heading out for a mission, maybe. 

And his long lashes shadow over the yearning look he’s got locked on you, sharpening and honing it like they’re fibrous whetstone. 

You’re a bit breathless as you round the bar, even more so when Kyle jolts toward you. Out of his devilishly tight black tee peeks a strip of white wrapped around his bicep, and one of his thighs is thicker than the other, suffering the same treatment under his jeans. But he makes his way closer—too slowly—and tries to stave off a wince when he gets too excited, takes a step a bit too fast. 

“Been waitin’ out here for hours, love,” he murmurs, voice breathy but rough. He holds out a hand, curls his longer fingers over yours so tight they can barely tremble. “You still got that scotch ready f’me?”

Your mind floats over the joke completely, instead filling you with worries and urges you can’t fulfill all at once. 

Because, God, it’s Kyle. Your Kyle. And he’s looking at you like that’s all he’s wanted to be. 

And he’s injured. 

He tries shrugging off your hand the second you reach for his face, fingertips hovering over the stiffness under his right eye as he mutters a “Love, don’t worry about it. ’S’better than it looks.”

“Kyle,” you whisper. His other hand falls to your hip, constricting iron-stiff around the soft flesh. 

“M’not broken, darling. Promise.”

And, because you’ve always wanted to, you cup his cheek, a puff of air bouncing off your lips when he leans into it. Turns towards the pliable skin of your palm, like he’s going to run his lips over it, but pauses when he feels you tense up. 

Something in his eyes darkens, makes you feel almost ashamed at the nervous reaction, but it’s just so much. You’ve missed him. You’re not accustomed to this, and it’s starting to dawn on you that this moment, however right and perfect and perfect perfect perfect it feels is still so fast. 

Two months. You haven’t seen him for two months. 

And now that he’s back, it feels like the two of you have been greeting each other like this forever. 

How can he make you fall so fast and still have you feeling like you’re pacing yourself?

This can’t be right, it can’t be—

“Dance with me. C’mon, before that horrible brain of yours blows a fuse about all this.”

“Careless Whisper” and that dashing smile of his, and all of his touch and proximity gets your mind all fuzzy. A good fuzzy. A quieting fuzzy. 

He’s getting too good at this is a thought that tries to stick, but recedes back into the murkiness when Kyle starts to sway. 

He urges your hips and feet to follow his lead. It’s far too easy to give in and let him have control, especially as he pulls you in a little closer, rearranges your hands and bodies until the noticeable space becomes the noticeable lack thereof. 

You’re tucked into his broad chest, warm and sturdy against you. 

He’d placed your hand right over his heart with a meaningful look in his eyes, waited until you felt the frantic thumpthumpthumpthump that leaves your face hot. 

Kyle was always confident around you. He always seemed to know what he was doing, because he was always obvious about what he’d wanted. 

But you didn’t know that you, of all people, could have this effect on him. 

That flutter of pulsations under your fingertips.

His head ducking low until his face is nestled into your collarbone.

The arm that swings around behind you until the crook of his elbow is caught in the dip of your waist and his broad palm is flattened against your opposite hip. 

It’s a little hard to face this moment, being how you are. It feels beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like you. You’re chest is so full, heart so quick, head so wondrously empty. 

You can’t think past the back-and-forth scrape of Kyle’s fingers underneath your shirt’s hem. 

But you feel like apologizing for something. Maybe you’d say sorry for how you feel in his arms, too big surely, despite the way he’s wrangled around you and holding so tight it’d take a solid minute for him to let go. Maybe you should apologize for the stupid song that’s playing, the one that everybody hates, you guess, even though you love it. Maybe you’re sorry about—

Wait. 

“You listened to all those messages?”

Kyle doesn’t make a sound. At first, at least. 

Then…

“They were the only things that kept me hangin’ on, love.” Where his lips brush these words into your skin, the nerves underneath throb. 

A sorry feels cruel on your tongue after that. 

Kyle hums into the silence, singing along a bit when the song repeats for a third time, then a forth, and your hair sticks to his face as he draws away. 

He looks like a fool, but a lovesick one more than anything. It’s dumb and stupid and ridiculous that he has to brush your hair off his face, and even more dumb that he looks like he’s enjoying it so damn much his face is split in two, top and bottom with only pearly whites in between. 

 A fool for doing all this for you, for wanting you so bad when he could replicate this with anyone, someone much prettier, and have them forever. 

“I don’t even wanna know what that dreadful mind of yours is concocting right now, darling. Don’t wanna hear a lick of it, because I know it’d make me so mad, too mad for a moment like this.”

“I don’t want to hear it either,” you whisper, letting your gaze fall to where your hand lay, to where Kyle’s heart gives off an indignant thud. 

The knuckle of his index finger knocks against your chin. “Let me silence it then, yeah?” His head tilts in an innocent way, almost distracting from how quick his heartbeats are now, agitated into a frenzy.

You nod, only partly because you’re a little worried he’ll go into cardiac arrest if you don’t. Mostly because you’ve heard about half of what he’s said by now, the rest of your brain designated to determining what he’s drawing into the curve of your hip. The hard press of his fingers is ruinous to your mental stability. 

That—right there—has to be a G. That’s the first symbol you’ve managed to decode so far. 

Kyle’s lips are so close when you tilt your head up again, and the intensity of his attention has increased tenfold. You wonder if you’d ever considered this to be the end result of all your phone calls, those nonsensical anecdotes every other twelve hours that you’d felt so guilty about sending. It felt like you’d been wasting his precious time. 

But his fervid grip on your body has you thinking the complete opposite way—that instead, you’ve been feeding this needy man before you far too much, a gratuitous enough amount that you’ve tracked him back to your house like a wild wolf you’re not really sure how to treat in the confines of your own home. 

You meant it when you said the distance made it easy. 

A is the second letter.

You wonder distantly if its shape is now bruised into the fleshy tissue of your side. 

And you wonder if he’s ever going to kiss you, leaning in so close like that.

~~~~~~

Gaz has to draw the line soon. He’s gotta find it first, but he’s so damn scared he’s gotten too close without even realizing it. 

The skin at that little sloping line between your neck and collarbone is all hot and smooth. He almost sunk his teeth into it, wanted to bite you a little and hear that little rabbit squeak of yours before you tore away, flustered. 

He can barely fight off the urge of giving the same treatment to that trembling lower lip, the fatty one you’ve ran your tongue over deliciously quick, like you thought he wouldn’t notice. 

Would it be so bad if you let him worry at it with his own teeth? Let your lips get all puffy and red from his touch, and only his?

But he’s pushing the boundaries too much all over again, and you’re back to shaking. It’s a good tremble, one he can feel through the muscles of his forearm, the one that’s flush with your spine. You’re all excited, and it’s because of him. 

All good things. 

But he knows you, knows the martyr that you are. Knows that if he feeds you now, you’ll think that’s the only meal you need and deserve, and you’ll tear away from his hold all over again, because you haven’t been giving enough. You’ve received too much already; he can see it in your eyes. 

Gaz walked in here a little too generous after all those phone calls. He thought you’d expect a reward for your diligence, and instead you’re acting like it was a burden. Undue torture for him to draw away like that, in his humble opinion. 

But fine. He won’t kiss you. Not yet. 

He pulls back a bit, unraveling his arm around your waist and settling for spelling Garrick into your other hip with a bruising pressure. It’s high time the other side of your body received the same treatment, anyway. 

If he’s tasked with quieting your mind, he’ll have to do it the less fun way. 

“So,” he mumbles, a bit ticked at how the words disturb the air, “come here often?”

A surprised laugh tears out of your throat, and you tip your head back until the delectable line of your jaw is all he can see. 

Foul play. 

Patience. Fuckin’—God, patience. He almost forgot.

Almost slipped that fucking leash. 

“You’re horrible,” you admonish with a grin, fingers curling up at his left pectoral. 

“You love it,” he whispers back. If there’s any shred of him that’s lost faith in how you feel for him, it’s the same hand that forces his last name into your hip. It wanders, for a second, up your back, behind your ribs, until he can feel that off-kilter thrumming that matches his own. 

Feels that stutter at his words.

“Love, huh?”

He tries not to freeze up. If you felt that from him, you’d have a little spike of doubt pierce right into that ever-working brain of yours. 

Gaz is so pissed he let that word slip, even casually, and scans over your face, trying to read how it landed. You were casual about it, too, but he knows that’s a touchy subject to push on. He’s toppling into bad territory. If you pulled away from him now…

“Cheesy shit like that is all I hear at my job.” Garrick Garrick Garrick. He’s pressing the letters into your spine now. “Honest. Dad jokes every morning. I’m the last one you have to worry about. It’s like going on a mission with a comedy club, that crew.”

Your smile eases up a bit, and you relax into the moment again. 

“You barely talk about your job.” You look away, seemingly finding the wooden-paneled walls far more interesting. “I didn’t know that topic was on the table.”

“The good parts are. That’s all I’ll ever want you to hear about.”

“I didn’t know you were so protective.”

Gaz is nipping at the bits to respond to that exactly the way he knows how. Of fucking course I am. It’s you. But he can’t rephrase it in any way that would soothe and not scare you off. 

So he lets your comment hang in the silence as you sway.

~~~~~~

When Kyle leaves the bar, at first it feels an awful lot like when he left that very first time. A bit disappointing that the hot, crazy drunk guy won’t be entertaining you for the rest of the night. Won’t be screaming I love you sooooo much, miss bartender gal until you clock off. 

The feeling makes you wistful.

Then—

Oh fuck—

It starts to feel like when he left for his mission. When you didn’t know if he’d ever come back, and you just missed him so damn much you couldn’t think straight, wanted to hear his voice one more time and not just saying “Leave a message at the beep.”

When you drove yourself crazy thinking about the little touches. When you dreamed about him far too much than was normal. When, more than anything, you wanted him to give in to all those little urges he seemed to hold back from you, that little grimace winding his lips when you swept to close or said something even remotely suggestive. 

And you know you don’t deserve it. You’re not fit to be the girl of his affections, the one he comes home to each time he returns from a mission and greets with a kiss. 

But it doesn’t stop you from imagining that you could be. 

You’d try to repay him for his love each time he comes home by greeting him with his favorite meal and drink. You’d massage the corded muscles of his arms and back, lead him with a shy smile into the bath set for two, and he’d have that same hungry look as you stripped to join him, splashing water everywhere in effort to tug you over to his end of the tub. 

You’d sit on his couch each day, scratching his scalp as you read a book, listening to the soft snores as he napped. You’d dance with him in the kitchen like you did today, slow sways to a song he liked this time, and then you’d play your favorite again, just to listen to those soft hums of his crooning along…

Oh God. 

You want Kyle. So damn bad.

You want his body. You want his hands all over you, eyes raking over your face, legs twisting against yours. 

You want every little thought running through his mind. You want his attention. You want his laughs, his cries, his silence when he’s protecting you from his memories. 

You want him shamelessly. Constantly. Perpetually. 

You want him so bad that you could give two shits whether you deserved him or not. 

You’d do everything in your power to earn it. Pour in your love and heart and soul into building something with him. 

And best of all, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. 

You don’t regret the way you call him that night, pleading for him to come over. It’s three a.m., and his voice is groggy and exhausted over the phone, accent thick as he grumbles, “Love, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Oh, you’re cryin’, darling, tell me where you are. I’ll be there sooner than possible.”

You relapse so hard that night. The second you saw his face all over again, you knew you couldn’t go without him. A Kyle-addict, and you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

He’s shouting, yelling at your door like a mad drunk, but you didn’t give him any scotch that morning. None of that whiskey sour either, the one he revealed was his favorite, but knew Americans wouldn’t get right. 

You tear open the door. His clothes are in disarray, buttons all wonky. His eyes are wild and wandering over you. His hands are curled tight around your doorway, blood sapping away from his knuckles because he’s holding himself back so hard. 

You don’t care. He shouldn’t bother anymore. 

You make the first jolt toward him, and his face melts into awe.

Kyle’s lips, they taste like….

Fuck, you whine a little into his mouth. 

Like fucking rain. Like a dream. Like clouds and floating untethered.

But also corporeal, grounding. Like plain chapstick and a bit of toothpaste. They taste like fingers winding so deep into your hair and hips pushing at yours until you stumble into your living room. They taste like Kyle blindly kicking the door shut, like him pulling back with a gasp and being aglow with ardent moonlight, like him reading every little emotion on your face and shaking his head, mumbling a “fucking finally.” He tilts your head up a bit higher, swivels your face to the side so your moans bounce off the walls as he drags his tongue along your jawline, down the warm column of your throat. And then you lurch, eyes flying open as he bites into the crux of your neck and shoulder. 

“Kyle!” Your nails dig into his back, drag down and dig in again at the same tempo as his bite-pull-back-bite-again. And he does the same to the rest of your body, every little inch that gradually presents itself when the clothes come off. His lips and teeth wander without bias, but each time you try to speak he drags himself back up to your ear and shushes, soothes your concerns with mindless mutterings along the lines of “Just lemme—gimme a bit to—fuck, love” and “Need a bit of patience, darling. I’m tryin’ to play here.”

He controls every second of it. All of it. 

Like he wouldn’t stand for a single mistake. Like he needs you to know it’s worth it. 

The sun showers over him when he’s trembling, sweating, hovering over you, hands intertwined with yours, peppering your face with kisses despite his rapid chest rising and falling, when he finally collapses against you, around and inside and generally being everything he can to you in this moment. He’s bigger than the bed, bigger than the apartment, bigger than that bar and your world. 

Kyle’s smile, still charming and exhausted, is the last thing you see as he coos you to sleep. 

~~~~~~

Gaz has to bat your hand away from your phone for the seventh time. “Jus’ fuckin’ ignore it,” he hisses into your stomach. “Bloody fuckin’ thing ruinin’ this beautiful mornin’ we’re having.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Despite your phone—Jeanne calling, apparently, because you’re three hours late to work, and you could’ve at least warned her you were going to be honeymooning off with the newly returned soldier boy (she’ll give you a sick day)—ruining the moment, it was still the best awakening he’s had in his adult life.

Maybe even better than birthday chocolate chip pancakes when he was a kid. 

No. Wait.

Definitely better.

He woke up to a soft caress against his cheek, found himself buried into your chest. Your breasts, as it turns out, are even more beautiful to begin his day with watching than any sunrise. 

He tore his gaze up higher and found you staring down at him, gentle smile on your lips. Your fingertips were tracing over his scars, thumbing at his lips every now and then. 

It’s not right that he hasn’t woken up like this before. Part of it makes him think he hasn’t really been living until right now, when he can’t think past your hot skin and plush thighs nuzzled close to his stomach. 

“Don’t mind this one bit, darling,” he’d said, dropping his head to feather his mouth over your belly button. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s genuine, and he can tell you know he means it because your cheeks turn pink. Surely it’s a lot for you in this moment. Your split-second decision last night was just that, and on his taxi ride over he’d worried himself over how you’d react the next morning. 

Your brows furrow, and your lips purse real tight while you think. 

Gaz’s trained himself to fear your thinking, but he holds off on distracting you from it now. Plays fair, even though he could be kissing his way down further and further until he could force a promise out of you; a gaspy, whiney one. 

But that wouldn’t do. He needs that rabbit brain of yours that likes to kick out and scurry away to agree with him for once, that yes, you want him to stay. You always will. 

And before he knows it, you’re cupping both sides of his face, drawing him up onto his forearms, making him crawl up your body until you press one long, hard kiss to his lips before muttering, “Yes. Let’s do it.”

Your thumbs swipe under his eyes, no doubt bothered by the dark circles, but the rumble of his voice as he praises you for giving in must tell you he’s gotten plenty of sleep. He made sure he did all of the work last night, had you follow each and every one of his commands to sit, stay, and let him take care of you, for fuck’s sake, or it’ll kill him.

All his energy, all that stamina was worked to the bone, and he feels like a puddle of goo against your form. He presses another kiss to your lips before trailing his way back down, nestling into your stomach while informing you that you’d make a damn good pillow every morning. 

~~~~~~

You’re certain nothing could ruin this moment. 

Kyle’s already back to snoring softly, little grumbles against the skin between your breasts, hands starfished at your thigh and lower back. He looks ten years younger curled up against you, the wrinkles of his face smoothed out through thorough exhaustion. 

Just seven hours ago he’d smiled at you, somehow more doting than the last, his skin dewed with sweat, and collapsed into your hold. He’d been content to run himself ragged, and now that he’s got you thoroughly trapped underneath his muscled, form, he seems intent on not moving an inch. 

His wounds still unnerve you. The bandages from yesterday could use a change, damp and wrinkled around his bare thigh and biceps. But from your position, your head leveraged on a pillow, you can see pale, ravaged skin from botched stitches and bullet holes. Uneven gouges and linear scrapes, wounds whose origins would surely pain you to listen to—most of all because he’d say it with such nonchalance. 

It’s hard to turn the sweet Kyle from the bar into this war-broken soldier before you, hard to combine them into one person and have it make complete sense. Like water and oil, the pair of them refuse to mix into one. 

You’re running the tip of your middle finger along one particularly horrifying line running diagonally down his nape when he wakes up again. His head lifts, and you let your hand slide with the movement until you’re cupping his cheek and he’s leaning into your hold. A wet kiss cools on the inside of your wrist when Kyle gets close enough. 

His limbs wrangle even tighter with yours. “What time is it now?”

“Two-thirty.”

His pretty brown eyes are locked on your face, a gentle roaming back and forth in rhythm with the slow strokes of his index finger against your knee. 

“Good. A few more hours and I’ll have kept you here all day. A personal record, one I’ll flaunt with honor.”

“We’ll have to get up at some point.”

“Maybe I’ll trap you here all week,” he ignores you, all serious consideration now. “I’ll have to check my rope supply.”

“You know, there are easier, less illegal ways to entice me into staying.”

“Don’t like riskin’ it with you.” He draws himself up and leans in, and you tilt closer to accept his peppering of kisses over your forehead, across your cheeks, down your jawline. “Each time I try to do it the nice way, you manage to slip away from me. Have to start playin’ for keeps now.”

You’re not sure if you love Kyle. 

You know you’re not quite in the same place as he is emotionally. But he certainly knows how to put you on the fast track to get there, and it starts with the way he cradles you closer—always a little bit closer—and nudges his nose just underneath your ear, releasing a sigh like touching you can make all the horrors, worries, fears slip away. Like you’re a magical woman. 

You feel like you’re made of magic, anyway. 

And you don’t regret any of the decisions you’ve made since calling him last night. Hell, since calling him that first time, when he was thousands of miles away, and all he wanted was more. 

~~~~~~

Gaz has a bad urge. A terrible one. Bloody fuckin’ day ruiner of an urge that has him peeling away and hiding out in your bathroom for too long after relieving himself. 

He’s staring at himself in the mirror while he dries off clean hands, investigating that dark mark you’d sucked into the side of his neck before he could untangle from you. 

Bad, bad, bad Gaz. 

It’s too soon. 

You don’t take “too soons” very well. Can’t handle them. 

But, well, biased as he is, Gaz thinks he looks more alive than he has in months. 

And all it was was you, injected into his veins and flowing back to his heart before being properly dispersed throughout the rest of his body, even distribution of needing you every hour of every day until he can’t even curl his toes without thoughts of you. 

No. He really, really shouldn’t.

He won’t.

Gaz steps out of your bathroom and fumbles his way through your apartment, following the sounds of humming and beeping. 

Almost blacks out at what he finds. 

You, bent over and retrieving a frying pan from your cupboards, rising up until your standing tall, wearing his goddamned shirt. The black cotton hugs your thick figure tight, but it’s too long, caps off somewhere near the tops of your thighs, lace panties barely twinkling at him just underneath

Fuckin’ Christ, bloody Jesus, Hell on a—

“Love,” he chokes on the word. “Darling. You’re killin’ me here, bunny.”

Fuck it. 

Seriously—fuck it. 

He’s gonna ask. It’s not too soon. Not for him. Not when it comes to you. 

You laugh a little. “Sorry. I know, I know, it’s too tight. But I was too lazy to find something else, so if you really want it back—”

“No.”

You pause, smile locked on your face. “Okay then. Good. Glad that’s settled. I’ll just keep making breakfast then.”

You’re on your tippy toes now, reaching high to the small pantry above your stove, fingertipping at a box of pancake mix. 

“Could you…?”

“Yeah.” He’s behind you in a matter of blinks, broad chest brushing your back before you can dart out of the way, even grasping your hip with one hand and passing you the box with the other. 

You take it from him with a fumbled thank you, the words stuttering their way out of your mouth as he swipes your hair back and behind your ear. “What’s on the menu, then, love?”

He can practically feel the current of chills slinking down your spine. He follows you, chest still against your back, step for step as you putter around, finding a whisk, a carton of milk, and… a bag of chocolate chips. 

Fuckin’ hell, don’t tell me.

“Pancakes. I’m adding chocolate chips because they’re my favorite, so don’t you dare bitch about—what, what is it?”

You palm at his forehead in confusion when he buries his face into your shoulder and groans. 

Fool. Bloody fuckin’ fool, dumbass bastard ruining everything after one goddamn night. It’s too damn soon. It’ll ruin everything.

“Love, I hafta—”

A cacophony of beeps cut through the air, and your attention slips to the microwave, where a cup sits aglow in the yellow light. 

“Sorry, that’s for my tea—”

He’s really doing this. 

Fuck it. 

Fuck. 

It.

“Move in with me.”

~~~~~~

Part 3

[makethatelevenrings]

Bff!reader finally tell her growing *more than friends* feeling to Jason for Valentine's day please! (Hope my prompt get pick up)

I feel like a love confession with Jason would come on the heels of a fight

You're chewing him out for being a self-sacrificial idiot as he's being all "why do you care so much" and you whip around and snarl out "because I cannot bury the love of my life. I won't survive it."

Silence.

You turn away, both to hide your shame and your tears. You cannot believe you just blurted that out. Jason and you had been friends for years.

He had been there for your shitty exes and you were there for his daddy issues. He had seen you in a clay mask with a glass of apple juice in your hand after a bad day and you had kept his eyes on you as you held his hand as Leslie stitched him up. He was your best fucking friend and you just ruined everything.

"What did you say?" His voice is calm. Careful. Quiet.

"Forget it." You laugh. You laugh because you can't think of any other emotion you're supposed to have at this moment other than pure, unadulterated fear. You just ruined the one good relationship going for you. You just ended your friendship because you couldn't keep your stupid fucking mouth shut.

"No, I won't forget it." You can feel him press up behind you. The scent of gunpowder, grease, and cinnamon invades your nose but you can't. You can't look at him. You can't turn around.

"I love you, Jason Peter Todd." You say his full name with such sorrow and such depth that you feel as though you're free falling from a skyscraper, your outstretched hand grasping for one of their infamous grappling hooks.

"I love the way you dog ear your pages and highlight your favorite quotes. I love how you cook pozole when you're sad because it reminds you of good times. I love how you hum show tunes when you clean and I love how you bring a newspaper to the neighbor at 2B every morning." A hiccupping sob escapes you. "I love how you refuse to be cruel no matter how much the world has hurt you. I love how you see the good in people who don't see that in themselves and I love that you protect those who can't protect themselves and I love you. I have always loved you and I'm terrified that I always will love you. Because someday, maybe today, you're going to leave me, Jason Todd and I don't know if I can handle that so please, if you're going to break my heart, do it now. Walk out before I can embarrass myself anym-"

He cups your cheek and brings your lips up to meet his. He tastes like the strawberries you had cut up earlier to add to your pancakes and he had stolen a few pieces. You savor the lingering sweetness as you turn in his hold so your chest presses against his. Jason's other hand settles on your waist and he keeps you close, impossibly close.

"I'm not going anywhere that you can't follow," he whispers once you pull away. Foreheads pressed together, he presses a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose. "I swear to you."

He can't bring himself to say those three words. He's heard it be repeated too many times followed by empty promises and backstabbings, but you know by the tender way he holds you that night, he feels it too.

[llannasvsp]

Dragons Rising Season 2, Episode 3: Beyond the Phantasm Cave

We are baaaack!! Honestly, I like spreading out my rewatch because I binged all 10 in one sitting. Spreading out my rewatch makes the excitement last longer. Not that I'm running out of excitement. I will never get over this season and it's not even done AGH. ANYWAY. On to the episode!

So, Cinder is Link from Zelda?

You feel the gong what?

Jordana and Cinder beef so real.

Awh, Kai. Glad they didn't forget his anger issues.

Arin is definitely not okay.

LLOYD MEDITATED ALL DAY AGHHH POOR GUY.

Lloyd has every right to be upset and frustrated right now.

Little source dragons!

OH MY GOSH the Netflix subtitles tell us which source dragon symbols correspond with the element!???!?

LIFE SYMBNOL CLAIMS LLOYD EVEROYNE. LIFE SYMBOL. DID ANYONE KNOW THIS?!?! YHHELLO. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME LEARNING OF THIS SO THIS IS A GENUIINE REACTION OH. MYGOSH.

Soooo Strength is a hater.

"He is no ordinary mortal". Okayyy so are we going to talk about him literally having Dragon heritage???

LEVITATING LLOYD CLIP!

Once again, Sam is literally serving. He portrays anxiety so well.

KAI + WYLDFYRE CLIP!

I am literally obsessed with this moment between them. Wyldfyre doesn't want to be left out. Kai wants her to stay safe and be okay. He's so kind and gentle with her. I love them.

I gotta admit, I'm an elemental mech hater.

"Would Master Wu take us on a mission based off of half understood dreams?" Oh he absolutely would.

KAI ASKING FROHICKY TO WATCH OVER WYLDFYRE RAGH.

I don't know how I feel about the Cloud Kingdom having a motor buuuut okay.

They really decided that this was the episode to upload clips from.

I love this moment because it addresses that Lloyd is doubting himself, it acknowledges that Lloyd and Nya have been through way too much stuff, and it shows us that Lloyd does not want to put Arin and Sora through something horrific. He doesn't want them to experience "the horrors" too young like he did.

Kai being mad that Wyldfyre stowed away but not in like an angry way but in a "I don't want you getting hurt" way is just sooooo.

Sora is so right to be concerned. I would be too if I were her.

I get what Sora was trying to do with the grappling hooks, but I also feel like this isn't going to bode well for Arin. She made his thing something "cooler" because their elemental powers are involved.

EWWW TENTACLES.

AGHH Arin and Sora complete each other my hearrrt.

Okayyy so visions.

Arin: Fear of letting his parents down. Guilt that he "replaced" them with the ninja.

Sora: Something to do with Imperium?? I don't really understand hers I'm gonna be so honest.

Lloyd: Being an inadequate teacher. Leading everyone to their destruction. "You will never be good enough." Dang.

Nya: Jay not remembering her.

Wyldfyre: The wasting thing that's talked about later.

KAI: WE DON'T FREAKING GET TO SEE IT. LET US SEE IT.

I feel like we just need to remember all of their fears because it's absolutely going to be important to all of them later.

"I know the real Jay could never forget me." Oh, honey. Don't say that.

Egalt is ugly.

GRRR THIS EPISODE IS AMAZING.

I think we didn't see Kai's vision because they're going to bring it back later. I know some people are saying that it was of a corrupted version of himself, and honestly, I'd say that's a very likely assumption, given his history. He used to have a lust for power, and maybe he still does, it's just more subdued. If anything were to happen to him (pretend we haven't seen ep10 yet), he could likely succumb to that temptation for power.

ALSO I'm such a Lloyd "life" truther, so learning that it was the LIFE DRAGON who claimed him?!??!? Yes. I'm so excited to expand more on that.

[6rookie-writer0110]

A childhood friend asked for a favor

Kate Kane x Male Reader (platonic)

Request - How are you doing? Could you write a Kate Kane x male reader (platonic) where they were childhood friends but have not seen each other in years. They meet again after Batwoman saves the reader, and he recognized her.

You arrived in Gotham and everything is different. You used to live in Gotham but you moved away with your family. You recognize some places in Gotham that are still open for business. You arrive at a charity party and you start to look around, to see if you recognize anyone and so far you don't. You went to get something to drink at the bar.

“Y/n, it has been a long time,” Kate said.

You turned around it was your childhood best friend.

“Kate Kane, you have changed,” You said.

“New haircut” Kate smiled.

“I was going to say, you have better taste in clothes now,” You said.

She gave you a hug and she was happy to see you. You and Kate were friends from the ages of 6 to 13. You and Kate were always together hanging out.

“Are you moving back to Gotham?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, I just moved back almost a month ago. Wow, it really has been a long time” You said.

“It has been. I'm glad you are back, Y/n. Let me buy you a drink” Kate said.

“I’m not going to say no to a free drink” You smiled.

Kate laughed then she ordered the drinks. You and Kate started to talk about everything and made each other laugh. You were the first to know that Kate liked girls, but you never stopped being her friend. When you moved away, Kate got depressed and you two lost touch for a long time.

“Are you dating anyone or breaking girl’s hearts?” You asked.

“I’m not a player, Y/n. But if we went out I would get more girls than you” Kate said.

“Wow, already day one and you want competition” You laughed.

“You started it and I'm going to end it” Kate laughed.

You and Kate kept talking then she gave you her phone number.

——-

You and Kate are starting to hang out more. You and Kate made a bet on who can get the most girls. Kate won the bet and she won't let you forget it. But Kate never told you that she is Batwoman. There were times she had to disappear and make up fake lies about why she had to leave.

Before Kate left her apartment, she saw the news there was trouble. At Wayne’s business office, there are hostages on the 27th floor. There is a helicopter around the building, and the criminals threaten to throw people out the window if they don't get the money. She rushed out of her apartment and headed to the bat cave. Then Kate rushes to the building and Luke tells her what to do. She jumps through the window and lands in her superhero pose.

“It’s Batwoman!” He yelled.

“Make one move and I will throw him,” Alice said.

Your wrists are tied with zip ties and she is holding your shirt.

“Let everyone go now,” Kate said.

“That won't be fun, letting them go,” Alice said.

“I mean it, let them go,” Kate said.

Kate is stalling time while the Crows reach the 27th floor.

“Okay, I will let him go” Alice smiled.

She pushed you out the window before she went after you she threw Batarangs at Alice. The Batarang hit Alice’s arm then she started to run but the Crows busted the door open. Kate jumped out the window and used the grapple hook, she caught you just in time. You are still screaming then she goes toward the roof, then she lays you down.

“You can stop screaming now,” Kate said.

“Can you just leave me here forever?” You said.

She laughed and you recognized the laughter and the scent of the perfume. Kate cut the zip tie and you slowly stand up.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Kate asked.

“You should have told me that you are Batwoman, Kate Kane,” You said.

“What? I'm not Kate” Kate said.

“I know your laughter and the smell of your perfume. I won't tell anyone and I think it's cool, that you are Batwoman” You said.

Kate starts to stutter and she admits the truth.

“Fine, I'm Batwoman” Kate said.

“I’m a fan” You smiled.

“Shut up” Kate smiled.

“Thanks for saving my life. I will buy you a drink next time” You said.

“Funny. I will see you later, I have to make sure the others are okay” Kate said.

“Sure,” You said.

You watched Kate jump off the roof and you headed to the stairs.

✬ ✯ ✬ ✫

Kate is happy that she doesn't have to lie to you. But she did take you to the bat cave and you are freaking out. You are asking so many questions and she thinks it's funny.

“Being in the Bat cave is so cool!” You smiled.

“Relax, Y/n,” Kate said.

“Kate, this is a once-in-a-lifetime to be in the bat cave,” You said.

“We could have a sleepover and I will order pizza,” Kate said.

“Are you serious!?” You asked.

“It was sarcasm, Y/n,” Kate said.

“Not funny,” You said.

She let you sit in the Batmobile, you were like a kid. You begged her to let you drive it and she said no many times.

[frostise]

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄

notes: i'll be adding detailed information about killer cat's powers, equipment and travia ♡

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

probability manipulation:  is able to flip the tables against impossible odds. she uses this to avoid dying and evade capture but isn't immune to injury. her bad luck mostly affects her enemies performance if they're around her for too long. this can range from flamethrowers rendering louise unaffected, forgetting her whereabouts or indirectly causing a car crash. she has been known to be unaffected by poison and magic—though strangely has been known to have a hindering weakness to mutants who possess a similar powerset such as good luck or be able to match her inhuman skill set in battle.

enhanced speed and limited strength: is able to run, climb, leap and have fast reflexes than the average human. she's hard to see and even more hard to catch. it's been recorded she can only lift to the maximum of 193 pounds but favours lightweight gadgets such as her talons since she's more of a stealthy character than a brute.

𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

killer catsuit: mostly made out of leather and light enough on her feet to preform well on stealth missions. it's a bodysuit—a similar design to a wet suit—that's coated in white and black accents. the jagged 'Y' patterns is marked on the front and back. her infamous killer cat emblem is stabled against the centre of her chest. the white fur is presented around her combat boots and upper forearms of the sleeves.

titanium talons: ten times stronger than steel and is able to cut through almost anything due to its titanium properties. it's retractable and mainly uses it in battle or climbing up hard-to-reach surfaces.

metallic grapple hook: a long ranged gadget to assist in her missions whenever she's in a tight spot. it can serve as a weapon for hitting, tangling or strangling her enemies. it's able to carry the maximum weight of two people. mostly uses it as a secondary weapon.

frost and smoke bombs: thanks to her scientific knowledge as a thermodynamicist at S.T.A.R labs and the assistance of bomb expert 'plastique', they were able to make frost bombs that would instantly freeze upon contact when thrown at a enemy and shatter due to a small bomb trigger implanted inside of the granade. the smoke bombs were originally stolen at T.A.B and louise used her power to replicate the blueprints from memory.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀

killer cat resides in the 80s period and is a combination of traditional goth and punk when the rise of cooperate power was at its peak. she shares deep love for both goth and punk subculture and will always commit violence against the rich and powerful. she cannot be reasoned with and thoroughly enjoys the brutality that's encouraged by her disturbing fans

her attire will mostly be in black and white shades. her hair is wild yet well-maintained similar to a lion's mane. it is her crown and anyone who touches it loses their hand

unlike most variants, louise doesn't wear a mask. she did wear one while working for the kinpin but after betraying him she would discard it as it no longer has power over her and also because she knew he would expose her identity anyway

there's a few revealing outfits inside her penthouse such as her leotard which will only be used when summertime arrives

louise isn't afraid to shed blood and will be seen being bloody from head-to-toe. she's more brutal as killer cat and will be blinded by her bloodthirst in most fights

most of her equipment and attire is created by T.A.B's tailors. louise added her own gothic and punk flair to her uniform to rebel against their control after betraying them to work as a solo villain

the only domesticated animal louise is never attacked or ignored by is cats. she grew fond of them when she was younger and became a animals rights activist later on in life

she only has one male cat in her penthouse named onyx who is named after a gemstone. their official name would be onyx lincoln and he was always there when she was mourning after crystal's death

louise steals from corrupted figures like king pin and do-gooders like tony stark. if you're rich and powerful it's a 100% guarantee she'll be tempted to steal from your organisation and kill you while she's at it

her ex-boyfriend is black spider (eric needham). they met in highschool and shared puppy love until their inevitable breakup when eric was starting to become a drug addict after graduation. she tried to encourage him into rehabilitation but was met with constant disappointment when he would fail to keep his promise. she still holds love for him but it wasn't enough to save their relationship and eventually grew tired of seeing him suffer from his addiction

her retractable claws is not the only set of gadgets she has. louise is in the progress of making a icy set of talons that drains the heat of her enemies

[sandy-castle]

Sandy is so over powered that I forget half of his abilities sometimes. He can shift through solid objects, has got semi-earth-bending abilities, and can shapeshift into a large sand monster (although I think he probably hates doing that seeing as he only does it when he losses control). He’s got a knock out gas. He took a nap earlier so he knows what you are planning and he’s one step ahead of you (prophetic dreams).

And somewhere, deep within him, he’s got the courage and audacity of 14 year old sidekick who only had a grappling hook and a dream (not prophetic), which is a power all on it’s own.

And he still has his grappling hook.