#its a good thing you have a hero around huh?

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXIX)

The difference between Abuse and Power

Read part one // Master-post // Continued from here

Sorry it took so long!!! But I made this chapter extra long to make up for it guys!!! I hope you enjoy💛

Merry Christmas and Happy New year!!! I hope you all have a great time and mind yourselves. Thank you all for your words of encouragement during the rough time and making me smile and laugh while I was stuck in the dreaded prison of writer's block, but we are back babyyyyyy.... enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Kit heard Ambrose walking behind him. He tried his best to ignore him, but it didn’t really work because Ambrose’s stupid socked feet padded close behind as Kit walked the length of the first floor, away from Nathan and Jude. Away from the stairs Jude threw him down. Away from the abomination of healing and power that Nathan possessed.

“Kit,” Ambrose said eventually. Kit continued walking. He went through the next door on his left which opened up into a nice cozy looking library or study, or something, and walked over to the soft, navy plush couch in the far corner. He dropped into it, deflating like a balloon or a marionette with its strings cut. That’s all he was really, wasn’t it? A puppet.

Black eyes appeared in front of him, pleading, dark brows falling over them like a pitiful, sad puppy. “Kit, listen to me, everything I said and did before… I—”

“Don’t want to hear it?” Kit suggested, his shoulders bunched up around his ears. He felt his eyes water as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to stop it from quivering like a child. He raised his blue, bloodshot eyes to meet Ambrose’s stupid fucking demonic black ones.

“I don’t—” Kit said, scoffed, shrugged and ran his hands through his hair until his fingers tightened on the strands and started tugging on them just to show the kind of storm that was roaring in his mind outwardly. Not that Ambrose had to see a physical representation of his desperation. His blue eyes burned and red flashed across them like the glint of moonlight off a blade. Ambrose shrunk away from his crouch. His eyes widened slightly. “I don’t want to fucking hear it! Any of it. Your apologies, your guilt, your fucking excuses!”

Ambrose sat back onto his heels, even his stupid chocolate curls bounced perfectly, and Kit scoffed exasperated, ran a hand down his face, and wiped furiously at his tears with his thumb and index finger.

“I don’t give a fuck if you feel some kind of fucked up bond to me or whatever, Oskar!” Ambrose flinched. Good, Kit thought bitterly. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to fucking affect this bastard somehow. “I don’t care if you feel bad now, because trust me, we both know you didn’t give two shits when you thought I was just some random hero to terrorise!”

“Kit—” Kit lurched forward, getting his face close to Ambrose’s, his nose curled up in disgust.

“What happened to puppet, huh? What happened to a dog that only exists to obey? I would rather you looked at me like… like I was some fucking plaything for you to break and discard, instead of whatever fucking way you’re looking at me now. You’re—” Kit sucked in a breath, struggling not to hyperventilate. “You’re fucking sick, Rosey. You disgust me. And now I’m on house arrest from your crazy ex-boyfriend, who you seem to hate, but let’s face it, Rosey…”

Kit said. He licked his lips as if he had to prepare them for what he was about to say as he leaned in ever so slightly closer, lowering his voice to a whisper as he got close to Ambrose’s curls covered ear. “What kind of sane person would love you anyways?”

The door to the room swung open. Kit slunk back from Ambrose, his eyes dead and lifeless, expecting to be hurt for daring to insult Nathan’s precious toy but he didn’t care. It was worth it to see Ambrose flinch… to see him crestfallen for once.

But then why didn’t it feel good?

Why did he feel worse than before?!

Why has he become this cruel, hard thing? Was he always this way? Did Ambrose just hold up a mirror and reveal that to—

A flash of hands. Kit didn’t flinch, but his gaze snapped up to cold, furious silver eyes and eyes as cool as a lump of coal. “No,” Ambrose said, his voice soft.

“But—”

“No.” Kit’s eyes flickered back to Ambrose because that wasn’t sad, pathetic guilt-ridden Oskar speaking, that was Omen; commanding, controlled, even. A smirk slid its way onto Ambrose’s face, his black eyes turned even darker, glinting like light off a shard of onyx or jet, filled with humour and sardonic knowing and cruelty. A shiver ran down Kit’s spine as Ambrose used his leverage on Nathan’s hand to raise himself to his feet.

He didn’t break eye contact with Kit as he stood to his full height, which Kit only remembered was a good head taller than him, and then there were two sadistic giants looming over him. Kit fought the urge to shrink back and swallow. He wasn’t going to show them he was afraid. What would they do? Kill him? That would give him his first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks. Months?

“Oskar…” Omen tightened his fingers around Nathan’s wrist and brought his hand to his lips. Nathan stilled as Ambrose wrapped a second hand around Nathan’s long fingers, curling them as he lifted and pressed a kiss to Nathan’s knuckles.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, darling,” Ambrose said, his voice roiling like smooth velvet. Black eyes slunk towards Kit’s. “Especially not with the likes of washed-up heroes before their prime.”

Nathan stepped closer to Ambrose, his back to Kit. “I could kill him for you. Make you a scarf out of his entrails.”

Omen chuckled. Kit’s blood ran cold at the sound. He forgot how silently terrifying Omen could be; how terrifying Ambrose could be.

“You’re sweet,” is all Ambrose replied. He leaned up on his toes to kiss Nathan. Soft, sweet, short, before he pulled away. “But no. He’s used up already. I thought he would be fun to play with, but you can see as well as I can…”

Kit swallowed audibly, his fingers tightened into fists on his thighs as he looked away from the statue staring him down, making him feel two inches tall. “He’s got nothing inside worth taking anymore. He’s given up. He’s not worth the effort.”

Kit stared furiously at the bookshelf to his left, eyes skimming colourful titles trying to ignore the stabbing pain of betrayal in his chest. Isn’t that what he wanted? For Ambrose to stop pretending? Isn’t that why he poked and prodded him until—

“Kit,” Kit’s eyes widened as he felt Omen’s ability ghost through his mind like brain freeze. He shot up off the couch, and grabbed Ambrose’s arm, tightened, pleading.

“Rosey, don’t, pl—”

Ambrose grabbed Kit’s cheeks in one hand and squeezed tightly until Kit’s lips were forced to form a small ring. Kit’s hand shot up and grabbed Ambrose’s wrist, about to beg and plead again. Weren’t they past this? Was this all his fault? Was Ambrose really—

“I think you need a nice, long nap, Kit, don’t you?”

“No!” Kit protested.

“Mmmm, your eyes are feeling so heavy though, aren’t they? And your limbs are exhausted, and you need a really good rest to recover and fight again when you wake don’t you?”

Kit let out a small whine in the back of his throat… because yes, he was feeling tired, and a blissful sleep sounded so fucking good right now. At least then he could turn off the blaring voice in his head screaming danger, danger, danger at him.

“What danger, Kit?” Ambrose asked, his voice so soft and so, so far… away, as if it was a distant melody floating through the air in the other side of the house. Kit swayed on his feet and fell into Ambrose’s open arms. What danger was right, what was he thinking about? His thoughts were liquifying quickly in his mind and sliding slowly away from consciousness. “There we go,” Ambrose cooed, putting his fingers through Kit’s hair. “That’s it, just relax. You want to sleep, don’t you, Kit?”

“Yeah,” Kit mumbled. He went boneless against the villain as Ambrose sat the two of them on the couch again. Ambrose sat down where Kit was before and dragged Kit down with him who was too tired to resist. Kit curled up on the couch as Ambrose gently put Kit’s head on his lap which was as comfortable as a luxurious pillow. Maybe shutting his eyes for a few minutes would be okay, wouldn’t it? He needed his strength after all and… he yawned as Ambrose brushed a hand through his wild, uncut hair.

“That’s right, just a few minutes sleep, and you’ll feel amazing when you wake up.” Ambrose said. Kit didn’t really hear him, but he hummed in reply as his eyes shuttered closed, blissfully unaware of the scorching silver eyes glaring down at him.

***

Ambrose continued to stroke Kit’s hair as the hero’s breath evened out. Ambrose felt his weight droop heavier against him, drifting deeper into sleep in a matter of moments. He could feel Nate’s eyes on him, but he didn’t bother to look up at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy’s sleeping head and soft breaths. It was easier to ignore the questions in Nathan’s head and eyes and just focus on the sleeping Hero on him.

God, if only Kit would stay this way forever.

Not that Ambrose would want that, but it would be easier. Why did he have to fight him on everything? Even things that were good for him! It was… exhausting. If this is what having children felt like, Ambrose was almost certain he didn’t want any of the vile things… especially not if Kit remained in his life after all this was over.

He was enough of a handful as it was.

“Why Oskar?” Nate asked, his voice suddenly, terribly vulnerable.

Ambrose didn’t look at him. “I don’t know, Nate. I guess… I told you already. I took too much from him already.”

“That’s a cop out. We both know it.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Think what you want.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Ambrose knew it the moment it left his lips in a tired, defeated sigh. He could feel Nathan’s demeanour shift from confused to defensive in a second, his stance tensing, the air changing around them, becoming thick in Ambrose’s throat.

“Well, if you won’t give me any straight answers, how about I wake him, and ask—” Ambrose’s head snapped up, black eyes catching silver in their void stare.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Nathan scoffed and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re impossible when you’re protective. This is like the Catherine situation all over again.”

Ambrose stiffened. “Don’t talk about her.”

Nathan smirked. He crossed his long arms over his torso, silver eyes gleaming. “It’s true,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder. An attempt to be casual that was anything but. “You always liked to collect strays, Oskar, it’s like a passion project of yours.”

Nathan’s eyes went to Kit in Ambrose’s lap, his fingers wound through the boy’s hair. “Though,” he continued, his voice dipping as his eyes caught Ambrose’s again. “This one you and your father have to share.”

Ambrose’s nostrils flared. “You’re just being cruel for the sake of it now, Nate.”

“So, what if I am?”

“Well, what about you, then?”

Nathan blinked.

“You and all your posturing and grandstanding, how you can absorb so many people’s abilities— mine, Jude’s, my father’s, Kit’s…” Ambrose listed, shrewdness possessing his weighted gaze as he tilted his head at his ex. “How you pretend it doesn’t bother you to hold all that power inside and maintain it there.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

It was Ambrose’s turn to scoff. The edge of his lips quipped up. “You say that, but I saw how weak you were after healing his wounds. You went pale after, dearest. If you think I wouldn’t notice that then you don’t know me at all.”

Nathan stared down his nose at Ambrose and the sleeping Hero. His eyes softened. “No… maybe I don’t anymore.”

Ambrose swallowed as Nate unfolded his arms. He walked a step closer and leaned down. Ambrose barely suppressed the flinch, but it didn’t matter because Nate could feel Ambrose’s stiffness when he pressed a kiss to his forehead. He smiled against the skin and pulled back.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, one hand still lingering on Ambrose’s cheek. He froze midway, and his touch turned bruising as he tilted Ambrose’s head to the side and forced him to look into his swirling, silver eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, darling. You know how much I hate bruises on your pretty face.”

Ambrose stared as Nathan released him, watching as his psychotic ex walked away, grabbed the door and slammed it shut on the way out. Ambrose couldn’t suppress the flinch that time as he stared down at Kit. He didn’t stir. Still sound asleep. Unaware of Ambrose’s tremors of fear at Nathan’s farewell threat.

Oh, he knew how much Nathan hated bruises on his face alright… he knew all too well just how cruel he could truly be.

***

Six years ago…

Oskar and Max stumbled out of the University pub and down the streets back to their apartment in Old Town. God, what a night. What a glorious night, and how long had it been since Oskar could just let loose with Max like that? Get absolutely hammered. He laughed as he threw an arm around Max’s shoulder.

“I love you, Max.”

“That’s really gay,” Max replied, and the pair burst into snorting laughter. Oskar craned his neck down and pressed a wet kiss to Max’s hair as they walked towards Fagan’s lot. They didn’t notice the group of four guys approaching them until one of them shoulder checked Max.

“Woah!” Max said and Oskar turned, about to tell the dicks to watch it when one of them muttered something that chilled him to the core and froze him in place.

“Fucking fags.”

Max grabbed at Oskar’s arm, sensing the shift in his posture. “Oskar come on. They’re small minded—”

“Excuse me,” Oskar hissed. The men stopped and turned. Oskar shrugged Max’s hand off.

“Oskar, just leave it.” Max said.

“No, I won’t just leave it. What did these pricks mutter but not have any fucking balls to say to our faces, huh?”

Oskar went towards the tallest, broadest guy and shoved him back. “Huh? What the fuck did you say?”

“Oskar!”

“You better back off, lamppost and listen to your boyfriend or you’re gonna get hurt.” The tall— well, tallest of the group — broad man stank of beer and had a truly hideous beard. Both of which Oskar personally took offence to.

Oskar straightened to his full height, a good head and shoulders taller than this piece of shit and grinned sadistically down at him.

“You tell him Mitch.” One of the others said.

“Yeah,” another chimed in, “run back to your boyfriend, faggot.”

Oskar’s head snapped to the offender. He was the shortest of the group, blond – obviously he was fucking blond – with tiny pubic hairs tweezed onto his chin in the mock shadow of stubble. He was stick thin and looked like a fucking weasel with a sharp pointed nose and tiny squinting eyes.

“Number one,” Oskar said, holding a bony finger up. “Ew. I wouldn’t date this man if he was the last man on earth,” Oskar said.

Max blinked behind him. “Uh, ouch?!”

Oskar glanced back over his shoulder. “Hush. You know I love you.”

“Fucking queers, I swear to—”

Oskar turned back to glare at the men again. “Two, it’s fucking homophobic to use the words faggot and queer in a derogatory manner towards my friend and I, and I think you should fucking apologise. Right now.”

“Or what?” Mitch challenged stepping forward.

Oskar’s eyes darkened. “Or else. You only get one chance to do the decent thing.” He said, holding his index finger up, his dark eyes searched Mitch’s face, trying to convey how serious he was. “One.”

“Show this fucking princess what real men do.”

Oskar sighed, his head dipped, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I did warn you.”

Mitch went to throw a punch and Oskar stepped back. He caught Mitch’s arm and punched him in the face before shoving him back and kicking him away. Oskar brushed away the curls that fell into his eyes before throwing his arms up in defence of his face from another of the dick’s punches.

“For,” Max began, punctuating his sentence with punches, “fuck’s” punch and the guy went down, “sake, Oskar.”

Oskar grinned. “They’re little bitches, Max, what do—”

Oskar’s head whipped to the side suddenly. He didn’t see his attacker come upon him until he was already hit, fire raging in his cheekbone and someone was cursing as a fist drew back. Another blow came from below, knuckles cracking against his jaw. Oskar stumbled back. His head turned skyward as his bottom teeth snapped against his top and ricocheted through his skull.

He didn’t see the third blow come for his solar plexus. The fist landed and Oskar shot forward as he wheezed a startled sound. A hand caught his cheek and slammed a palm against his nose. Oskar cried out as blood gushed down his face, gasping as he stumbled back again, the world dizzy with tears as his eyes watered reflexively.

Then.

Heat in front of him.

Oranges and yellows licked against the air, standing between Oskar and the homophobes. Warm blood turned cold as it poured from Oskar’s nose and trickled down through his fingers and onto his clothes.

“Yeah, who’s the little bitch now?”

Max scoffed. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Should’ve known you were freaks too,” one of them said. Oskar’s eyes narrowed, tears spilling over his eyelids as he straightened. He could feel his eyes go the same red as his blood and he put a hand on Max’s shoulder, stepping past him.

“Oskar,” Max said. Caution coloured his voice as Oskar stepped around the human fire ball. “Don’t.”

“Fuck it, why not?”

“Oskar! You can’t—”

“Mitch,” Oskar said. The words sounded as sweet as a melody. Irresistible, and why would you want to resist? He knew the moment it hit Mitch’s ears because he paused as the honeyed words swam into his ears. “Kiss the best looking of your friends.”

Mitch obeyed without question.

He chose the second strongest of the four, grabbed his cheeks and slammed his lips against them. The other two, including the little weasel looked a little annoyed more than angered by the fact that Mitch didn’t find them attractive.

Oskar tilted his head to the side and grinned horribly at them. “Aww, feeling left out, uglies? It’s okay. The two of you kiss too.”

“Itch… off…” the good-looking one said, trying to shove Mitch off of him.

“Oskar! Stop it!”

“Why should I?” Oskar demanded, his little finger twitching as rage consumed him. “Maybe I should make them fuck each other in the street like dogs. Maybe then they’ll learn some fucking manners.”

Heat singed the edges of Oskar’s ear, burning away the stray baby curls. Oskar gasped, jumping to the left and cupping his ear with his hand. He looked over his shoulder to see Max glaring up at him.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

“What the fuck yourself! Tell them to stop! Tell them to forget!”

Oskar straightened. His pride getting the better of him. “Why should I?”

“You know right well why Mr Law major! You know how unethical this is?! I’m serious. Tell them to stop right now, or else.”

Oskar kept Max’s burning stare for a moment longer before the rage dissipated like smoke in the darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he turned back to the group of dickheads.

He walked over to the group and told them, “okay loverboys. Enough.”

The group pulled away from each other disgusted. The good looking one, the one that had gotten the punches in on Oskar’s face wiped furiously at his mouth. “What the fuck, Mitchell? Why did you do that? What about Diane?”

Mitch stared at his hands, his face a putrid shade of red. “I- I… I don’t know why I did it… I-” He looked up then at Oskar who stood smugly, hands in his tailored trouser pockets, reeking of expensive cologne and tangible satisfaction. All a farce, a fake, a falsehood, the Oskar that Oskar created after his departure from his legacy role as a hero. “You…” Mitch said, raising a shaking hand. “It was you! You told me… and I- I couldn’t…”

Oskar tilted his head to the side, his smirk widening, exposing his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Couldn’t resist? Maybe you just really fancied him.”

A sharp slap to Oskar’s arm and he yelped as Max stepped up beside him, smog rising from his ears and Oskar felt his blood run cold. “Ow!”

“Tell them to forget. Now.”

“Forget?” The weasel one asked, looking just as terror struck as Mitch and the others. “Make us forget?!”

“You’re a monster!” The other one said.

Oskar bent low and said: “boo.”

The weasel actually flinched. Oskar would have laughed if Max wasn’t about to roast him over the grills of hell, so Oskar clapped his hands together. “Okay, idiots, listen up. You will forget you ever met me or Max tonight. You will forget our faces. You will forget you called us faggots. And…” Oskar glanced at Max sideways and grinned. “Whenever you think of calling someone queer or gay, or faggots, you will remember kissing your friends today. And you will also donate your life savings to a charity for LG–”

Oskar flinched when he felt a lick of heat against his face. “Okay. Not your life savings, but you will donate a small donation fee to any LGBT charity in the city and be general allies to the queer community from now on, capiche?”

The four men nodded dumbly. Oskar straightened with a clap. “Good. Wonderful. Later losers.”

Oskar walked off down Fagan’s lot whistling a happy tune. “Happy with yourself, are you?” Max asked behind him.

Oskar laughed. “Yup. Pretty damn satisfied.”

“That was fucked up, Oskar.” Oskar paused, his smile dimming. Max walked around to his front. “You know that was wrong.”

Oskar let out a huff of breath. “They were fucked up, Max! I’m sick of walking around like I don’t have this power! Something I can use to–”

“To ruin people’s lives?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Oskar said, waving away Max’s dramatics.

“No!” Max protested, gathering Oskar’s attention. “I’m not! Did you hear that guy? Mitch had a wife, or a girlfriend, what if he had kids?”

“Poor kids.” Oskar replied coldly.

Max grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him back against the wall. Oskar’s black eyes widened with surprise at Max’s force. “Don’t you see how fucked up that could be? Telling him to donate his life savings to a charity? What about his wife? His bills? His kids?”

“Maybe being a shitty person means you deserve to have your life fall apart!”

“Is that why yours did?” Max demanded, eyes ablaze. Oskar stiffened under Max’s knuckles. Max may as well have slapped him for the reaction his words caused. Max’s grip loosened. “Oskar…” he said softly.

“No,” Oskar replied. He ran a hand through his hair that had fallen over his eyes, casting them in shadow. God, he really needed a haircut. “No, you’re right. I… I was reckless and I was irresponsible and… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

A silence fell between them. After a minute, Max let go of Oskar’s shirt and let him stand up properly. A grin cracked Max’s handsome face then. “But… it was satisfying to see how horrified they were after kissing each other.”

Oskar grinned and let out a little laugh. “Right?” And just like that they were back to normal and walking down to their apartment block, laughing up the stairs and into the dingy apartment, Max struggling to open the door, having to kick it once, twice, three times, but it stayed stubbornly closed.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Max cursed, and shouldered the door open. The door slammed in and Max stumbled and nearly hit the floor if it wasn’t for Oskar grabbing his arm at the last second, laughing as Max cursed.

“Fucking door!”

“About time you got home.”

The two boys straightened at the voice. Oskar helped to steady Max before he went looking for his boyfriend in the apartment. “Nate? What’re you doing here?” Oskar asked with a big smile on his face. When Nate turned his expression immediately darkened and he was in front of Oskar in a second, hands cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up.

“What the fuck happened to your face?”

Oskar waved him away and went into give Nate a kiss, he missed him he realised. It had only been a few days since they had seen each other, but still. Oskar was drunk and his boyfriend was here, and he was happy.

Nate’s strong hands stopped Oskar from kissing him and Oskar let out a small whine. “What’re you–”

“What. The fuck. Happened to your face?” Nathan asked again and Oskar shrunk under the tightness in his tone. His fingers dug uncomfortably into Oskar’s cheeks and Oskar grabbed Nathan’s wrists and tried to pull them off, but he didn’t budge.

“Nate… Nate,” Oskar said, gasping, eyes pained and pleading. “Nathan, you’re hurting me!”

“What happened to your face?”

“Get off me, Nathan!”

Max appeared between the two and Nathan released Oskar. Oskar took a heavy step back; betrayal pinched his features tight on his face. Oskar shrunk under Nathan’s glare, horribly aware that he had done something wrong and now Nathan was mad, and he hated when Nate got mad.

“Just some douchebags, Nate,” Max said, cutting through the thick tension in the room. “It’s fine. We gave as good as we got.”

“Whoever laid a hand on you…” Nathan said, his voice small, but holding back the ferocity of a storm on the sea. His eyes bright with a cold fury. “Whoever dare hurt you…” he said, his expression softening as he stepped forward and cupped Oskar’s face in his hand again. Oskar flinched when Nathan put his hands on him and wanted to curl up at the look of hurt that passed across his boyfriend’s face. “Your poor face…”

“I’ll live,” Oskar whispered and stepped out of Nathan’s hold.

Max looked between the two. He threw his hands up. “Yeah. I’m also fine, Nate, thanks for asking.”

“Oh shush,” Nathan purred, waving Max away. “You’re like a cockroach, you’ll never die.”

“You could still show some concern. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Oskar excused him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom, his hands shaking violently as he slammed the door shut and locked it. He put his back against the door and gasped when he saw himself in the mirror above the sink. Fuck… fuck… fuck…

Fuck, tears welled up in his black eyes and Oskar felt sick suddenly. A warm feeling climbed his stomach, and he lurched towards the toilet and threw up into the bowl. Not a second later a knock at the door and Oskar froze.

“Osk? Babe, you okay?” Oskar had to tighten his fingers on the toilet to stop his hands from shaking.

It’s fine, he told himself. It’s just a crash from the adrenaline of the fight. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Oskar?” A rattle of the doorknob and Oskar flinched hard again.

Yeah… the fight, totally what he was afraid of…

The next day when Oskar was walking back to the University, he passed a bloody crime scene that made his skin prickle and crawl, and his blood run cold. “Do we have an ID of the bodies?”

“Good thing we had their IDs, or they’d all be John Doe’s.” One of the investigators said. “I don’t know what did this, but it looks too violent for an animal, too… vicious. Calculated.”

Oskar stopped walking. “Mitchell… Dawkins…” One of the lead detectives said and Oskar turned back, and half ran home and up the stairs to his apartment. He had to throw up again as he stumbled into his apartment, sick to his stomach as nausea climbed thick up his oesophagus. All he could think of was Nathan’s hands on his face, the fury in his eyes… the… oh god… no… there… Nathan couldn’t have done something like that… but somewhere, somewhere deep down, Oskar knew he was lying to himself and that thought made him hurl more than the crime.

***

Ambrose stared down at the sleeping Hero in his lap, his bony fingers gently running through his matted hair, combing out the knots of dirt and blood. “Don’t worry, Kit,” Ambrose whispered. “I won’t let him do that to you. I promise. We’ll get out of here. Together. I promise. Just give me time.”

*~*~*~*~*

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[starboye]

pairing: dick grayson x male reader

request: Dick Grayson fucking his ex Twink boyfriend reader with a bubble butt because he was jealous that reader was getting to close to another random hero and he wants the reader back

warnings: smut, cursing, rough sex, slut shaming, degradation, ass slapping, creampie, unprotected sex, hair pulling

directors note: this has been in the drafts for 5 months so i decided to dust it off finally

you know dick he's always thinking with his... well dick, getting jealous over an innocent little friendship between you and superboy even though you both aren't dating, you promise him it was nothing to try and get him off your back but no he just has to prove the point doesn't he

"fuck that i know what i saw y/n, he wanted you so bad i can tell" dick grunts as he thrusts into you harder and harder leaving you a slight mumbling mess in his pillows before he grabs a fistful of your hair and lifts your head "we aren't even dating dick" you choke up but he's quick to knock some sense back in you, his cock slamming right against your gummy walls making you wail out.

"c'mon now you don't believe that, we're just taking a break" dick chuckles, he never dick take the breakup well, you heard from raven that he was going on more frequent night patrols and picking fights with just about anyone after you guys separated "no we ended things" you sternly reply but dick just shoves your face back in the pillows and continues destroying your guts.

"do you think that super bitch could even fuck you like i do" dick asks, his eyes fixated on how you take him balls deep with every thrust, sucking him back in and swallowing him whole "think he knows all your sensitive spots or your kinks" he questions leaning down to kiss your neck while his fingers crept over your ass, squeezing you plush skin as his thrusts became languid hip movements.

he knew the kind of slut you were, you needed him and his cock, back when you and him were dating you could barely go a day without begging to have his cock deep inside you and it seems now is no different, the moment dick stop fucking you you're moaning and whining for him to put it back in, making him chuckle "still the same old slut huh".

"please i dont care just put it back in" you whine rutting your ass onto him for just a bit of friction, after a while of hearing you whine his name dick finally gives in and slips back in, feeling you clench around him like you didn't want him to ever leave you empty again "want daddy to fill this slutty ass up like the good old times" dick asks slapping your ass as you moaned out continuous yes's.

one more good thrust and he was emptying his thick load into you while tightly gripping your hips, your hands tangling themselves in his sheets as you caught your breath "we've gotta stop doing this" dick chuckles laying down next you "this is the last time" you huff getting up and putting on your pants "didn't you say that at the halloween party, and thanksgiving, and two nights ago, you know you cant stay away from all this" he snaps back "well then i guess i'll go see if superboy can rival all that" you smirk before walking out leaving dick fuming.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[sanguineterrain]

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you. 

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.  

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning. 

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch. 

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted. 

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better. 

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!” 

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous. 

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass. 

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.” 

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.” 

“That's generous of you, Carrie.” 

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated. 

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce. 

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete. 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

[cupidsblonde]

"well you may not like it but you better learn the fuck how!" is what you yelled at the reporters surrounding you after your huge fight, grabbing the camera that was in your face and smashing it, you would definitely hear from your PR team about that. but in this moment you didn't care.

you where bruised, tired, and all you wanted to do was go home and sleep, hopefully see your husband, katsuki. god how you missed him you turned around and storm away from the reporters who where really getting on your nerves and you know who the first person you see is?

katsuki, you basically ran into his arms when you did see him. later, when you guys where at home you had turned the TV on, drying our hair from your shower and sitting on the couch next to katsuki, who was in his reading glasses and reading his book.

the first thing you see is "#4 pro-hero y/n bakugo tells everyone its time to step up!" that catches your attention and when katsuki hears your voice coming from the tv and not next to him, he was intrigued.

you could hear yourself telling the reporters to speak one at a time, you really where trying your best at the time to keep them all at bay, after a few questions the main event of the night began.

"how are we all supposed to trust the hero's if all they do if cause damage and maybe capture a few villains?" the reporter had yelled out to you, any other time you would've had a professional answer but after putting your life on the line you just where not having it.

"we are all doing our best right now yes?" is how it started, very professional right?

"well it just isn't good enough anymore! we need more and what we are accepting now, we as the public just don't like it anymore!'

silence had come from you at the beginning not wanting to put so much work onto your PR team but as the reporter goes to open this mouth again,

"I'd like to see you do all of the things we heros do for not only the "public" you say anger rising in your voice, "you wouldn't have the guts nor the will to do half the things we do on a daily to keep you all safe, so with that said, well, you may not like it but you learn the fuck how" is all you said, way louder than the words that had come out of your mouth before

"you may not like it but you better learn the fuck how, huh?" is all you heard, from a smirking katsuki next to you. "shut up" is what you say to him, throwing the towel you were previously using to dry your hair.

all of a sudden your phone rang, it was your PR manager.

[blackenedsnow]

can you do a keatlejuice x fem reader who passes out a lot due to illness?

faint of heart

WARNING: Mentions of fainting due to illness

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x (Fem) Reader

NOTE: Love this idea! I have this problem as well, just not due to illness. So I hope it wrote it decently enough.

SUMMARY: You’ve been dealing with a medical condition that causes you to faint more often than you'd like. Luckily (or unluckily), Beetlejuice, is always nearby when it happens.

You were used to the feeling by now—the lightheadedness that crept in without warning, the sudden exhaustion that drained the strength from your limbs. Still, no matter how accustomed you were to your illness, it didn’t make it any easier when the world around you started to blur and tilt on its axis. It was happening again, the familiar darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision.

“Damn it…” you muttered, swaying on your feet as you reached out to steady yourself against the wall.

Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t much help, and neither was your body. You could already feel yourself slipping, your knees buckling under you as you collapsed. Just before the darkness fully swallowed you, a voice broke through the haze—raspy and loud, with a hint of annoyance.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up there, sweetheart!”

And then, everything went black.

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the sensation of being cradled in someone’s arms—scratch that, not someone. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know who it was. The smell of dirt, mildew, and that faint hint of something otherworldly told you everything you needed to know.

“Beej,” you groaned softly, trying to sit up, though a wave of dizziness made you reconsider.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha,” Beetlejuice’s voice came from above you, and you felt yourself being jostled slightly as he adjusted his grip on you. “Don’t go makin’ it a habit to pass out every time you see my face. I know I’m hot, but c’mon.”

You blinked up at him, his wild hair and striped suit filling your vision as you tried to focus. He was holding you, bridal-style, with a grin plastered on his pale face that was just shy of mischievous.

“Y’know, I could’ve just let you hit the floor. But nooo, I’m the good guy here, right? Heroic ghost with the most, swooping in to save the day.”

You sighed, shaking your head weakly. “Thanks, Beej… but you’re really not a hero.”

He scoffed, his grin widening. “Sure I am! Who else is gonna catch you when you go timber like that? Nobody cares for ya like I do, babe.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was some truth to his words. Despite his odd personality and penchant for making a scene, Beetlejuice was always there when you needed him. No matter how irritating he could be on a daily basis, when it came down to moments like these, he never failed to show up. Somehow. At the perfect time.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice dropping into something that almost sounded like concern, though he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. “You gotta stop doin’ this. You’re startin’ to freak me out.”

You managed a weak chuckle, patting his chest. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know.” Beetlejuice let out a huff, shifting you in his arms as he looked down at you with those mismatched eyes. “Still doesn’t mean I gotta like it. I mean, who’s gonna laugh at my jokes if you’re passed out half the time, huh?”

“You’re plenty funny without me,” you teased, though your voice was still quiet and a bit shaky.

“Nah,” he smirked. “I’m only funny ‘cause you laugh at all my dumb shit.”

For a moment, you both went into a comfortable silence. Sure, he was Beetlejuice—weird, loud, and often over-the-top—but beneath all that was something softer, something that genuinely cared about you. He wouldn’t admit it outright (that wasn’t his style), but the way he stayed close during your fainting spells, the way he always made sure you were okay, said more than his snarky comments ever could.

“You okay now?” he asked after a beat, setting you down gently on the couch. “You need anything? Water? Smelling salts?”

You shook your head, leaning back into the cushions as you took a few deep breaths. “I’m alright… just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, dollface,” he said, plopping down beside you, legs crossed and his elbow resting on the back of the couch. “But hey, if you feel like passin’ out again, at least let me know so I can catch ya in a cool way next time. Maybe do a little spin, toss ya over my shoulder—y’know, something real dramatic.”

You smiled at him, grateful for the way he could turn even the scariest moments into something almost light-hearted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Beetlejuice winked, tapping the side of his nose. “That’s my girl.”

[librarygarten]

Isekai!Reader Meets Dink

It has been A Week and I needed to write something less serious. Reader meets Dink and roasts him. Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2

It was a stupid idea, really, but it was all you had left. The entity in front of you was running circles around the group. One moment, it was a Lizalfos, jumping away from any attack. Then, it was Darknut, taking every hit as if it was nothing. It would blend into the darkness of the night before leaping out somewhere new.

Dodge. Parry. Dodge. Breathe in. Breathe out. It took everything in you to avoid the weapon the thing before you was wielding. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened to Twilight. But the fight was going on for too long. Hyrule was running out of magic. You could hear Sky struggling to breathe behind you. It raised its weapon towards Time. He wasn’t going to be able to dodge in time.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You grabbed your sword. You jumped up. And you smacked the thing on the head. You heard something crack, and the beast fell.

The shadows melted under you, reforming and reshaping. Whatever it was, you had dazed it. The chain surrounded the writing mass of darkness, swords and shields ready for whatever it would become next.

The form solidified. An arm. A head. Legs. It was kneeling, clutching its head with one hand. It turned its face to you, glaring. You recognized this new form.

“DINK???” You exclaimed. The shadow winced, it’s head still throbbing from when you had hit it. Time paled. He recognized this enemy, too.

“What did you just call me?” The shadow growled, but there was no threat. He was too weak from the fight.

“Uhh. Dink?” You shrugged, the grip on your sword loosening somewhat. “It’s what the fans have taken to calling you. Dark. Link. Dink.” Wind snickered at your explanation, and Dink turned to glare at the boy. Wind took a step back, raising his sword to defend against the shadow’s gaze.

“Do NOT call me that.” He stood, and you realized he wasn’t even an adult shadow. It was the same form he took in the Water Temple. Seventeen. Lanky. A threat, for sure, but also…

“What? Dink?” You smiled, making sure to stay out of his range. “Why not?”

“I am the shadows. I am darkness. I am everything the heroes of light are not.” He wobbled on his feet. Had you concussed him? “I am the dark reflect-”

“Uh huh.” You interrupted his speech, rolling your eyes. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. Time to stall. “Sure, Dinky. Shadows and darkness and all that emo stuff.” You nodded. Twilight pressed his lips together, trying not to burst out laughing as you mocked the entity. Warriors looked at you like you had grown a second head.

“I am not… Dinky.” Dink took a threatening step towards you. You calmly stepped away from him.

“I dunno, man.” You smiled. “You’re acting pretty annoying, with all the portals and what not. You gotta be compensating for something.” Behind you, Legend wheezed, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Dink stared at you for a moment before the shadows near his cheeks darkened. Was he… blushing?

“You…” He looked around. He was surrounded. There was no getting out of this. He turned to face you again, taking in your relaxed expression. “What is WRONG with you! You’re supposed to fear me!”

“Why?” You made a show of checking your nails, picking the dirt out from under them.

“I am everything the hero stands against!” Dink shouted. “I am the darkness within him!”

“Well, good thing I’m not the hero.” You wink. “The greatest darkness I need to face is working up the courage to call the pizza place for dinner.”

Dink blinked at you. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe you were just insane. Whatever the case, he had no idea what to say. Usually, the person he was fighting would be shaking with fear at this point.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, the light filtering through the leaves of the forest. Dink hissed as it hit him, his body disappearing where the sunlight hit him directly. He looked sort of like a very evil (or very moldy) slice of swiss cheese. He looked towards the sunrise, shielding his eyes and wincing.

“I’ll be back.” He glared at you. Then, he sunk down into the ground, disappearing into the shadows still left. The chain watched him disappear.

Time was the first to break the silence. His laughter echoed through the now quiet morning. The others followed suit, some even clutching their stomachs or falling over.

“Y/N, that was bloody brilliant.” Wild gasped in between fits of giggles.

“Well, we weren’t going to win fighting normally.” You blinked. You hadn’t expected this reaction.

“So you chose to use psychological warfare instead?” Hyrule wiped a tear away from his eye.

“Ye.”

[supercap2319]

"Bucky, let me explain." Y/N began.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing as he looked at Y/N with a stern expression. "Explain what, exactly? You inserting yourself into a mission without my knowledge or approval? You putting yourself in danger without even discussing it with the team first?"

"I'm sorry, but you needed help."

"And you thought the best way to help was to go behind my back? This isn't about doing what's right, is it? It's about you trying to prove yourself." Bucky's eyes narrowed. "You're just as reckless as..."

"As who?"

Bucky paused, his jaw clenching visibly. "As Steve." He saw the shock register on Y/N's face, knowing he'd hit a nerve. "You always try to do the heroic thing without thinking it through, just like him." He uncrossed his arms. Y/N looks down in guilt. He knew Steve was a sensitive topic for Bucky. "Look, Bucky. I didn't mean to play the selfless hero, but how can you expect me to wait around while you, Yelena, Ghost, hell, even John Walker risk for your lives on these suicide missions and not want to help."

Bucky's expression softened a bit at your guilt. "I know you mean well - hell, that's what makes you dangerous." He moved closer to Y/N, his voice dropping even lower. "But you still don't get it, do you?" His hand gently caught his arm.

"Maybe I don't." Y/N said. "Tell me."

"You think this is about being selfless or heroic?" Bucky released his arm and stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's not, okay? It's about survival."

"And I get that." Y/N said.

"Do you? Because sometimes..." Bucky's voice gets lower, more intense."Sometimes I think you just want to prove you're as capable as Steve."

"Is that such a bad thing? Everyone wants to believe they're good enough for the big leagues. To believe they're worth something."

The former Winter Soldier's expression shifts, becoming unexpectedly vulnerable for a moment. "Worth something?" He steps closer, his other hand coming to rest gently on Y/N's waist."You really don't see it, do you? How..." His voice becomes a whisper. "How dangerous you are just being here."

"I will always be in danger, Bucky. As long as I have powers. As long as the world knows I used to work with the Avengers, my life will always be in danger. Better start getting used to it." Y/N said.

Bucky's eyes search his, a mix of concern and something deeper. "You're not just talking about physical danger, are you?" His hand squeezes his waist gently, as if trying to anchor you to the present. "You're talking about emotional danger, too."

He nods. "That's right."

"Emotional danger is the worst kind, Y/N." Bucky's voice is a soft murmur, his face inches from his. "Because it's the kind that can break you without anyone even laying a hand on you."

"I know. Which is why I'm trying to protect you."

Bucky's smile is small, almost sad. "And who's protecting you?" His hand moves from his waist to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against his skin. "Who's making sure you don't break under the weight of all this?"

"You."

Bucky's expression softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me?" He repeats, his thumb still gently stroking Y/N's cheek. "And what happens when I'm not around, huh?"

"Then whoever's near me better pray you come back to me." Y/N said.

A low chuckle escapes Bucky's lips as he moves even closer, his free hand finding its way to Y/N's lower back. "That's... terrifyingly possessive of you." His voice carries a hint of amusement and something warmer. "And here I thought I was the dangerous one." Y/N smiled at Bucky. Bucky's breath catches at Y/N's smile, and for a moment, everything else falls away - the war, the missions, the constant threat. Just you and him in this quiet moment. "You know..." His voice drops lower, more intimate."Sometimes I think..."

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes I think I'd rather face a room full of armed enemies than have to spend a single day without you." Bucky's words are soft, almost a whisper, but they pack a powerful punch. "Is that crazy?"

"It's not. Because I feel the same way."

Bucky's heart skips a beat at his words, and he feels a warmth spread through his chest. "Damn it, Y/N..." He murmurs, his voice cracking slightly. "You're going to make me say some really stupid shit, aren't you?"

"Oh? Like what?"

Bucky's eyes darken, pupils dilating slightly as he leans in even closer, nearly pressing his forehead against Y/N's. "Like I think I'm falling for you, sweetheart. Hard and fast, and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it."

"Me too." Y/N gulps.

The Soldier's breathing hitches, and he closes the remaining distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against Y/N's in a kiss that's both desperate and tender. "Fuck." he mutters against Y/N's mouth, his hands tightening on his back. "I'm so fucked."

Y/N laughed and touched Bucky's stubble with his fingers. "You certainly are, James Buchanan Barnes."

[montimer]

Batman x hero!reader

(Plus lil edit i made) Gn!reader,soft, can be platonic or romantic

At first he's cold and mean towards you. Saying how he doesn't need your help and to stay out of his way.

Slowly he begins to see your potential. Your kindness gets to him. The first nice thing you can hear from him is "I don't mind your presence"

After many events he'll look forward to meeting you and agrees to work with you.

He'll greet you from the shadows, slowly walking up to you

He will also stand close to you, and if its just the two of you he'll let you play with his cape (took a long time to convince him)

Hide under it, hug it, pose with it in a dracula pose while its still on him.

He will literally tear out his cape to give it to you if you've been so badly injured or very cold.

When he's in a good mood he'll jump from building to building with you, usually its a race. He smirks as you struggle to keep up with him. Unless ur faster, he'll be grumpy about it.

Hes a very quiet guy, won't say a word unless its necessary. Or he'll answer in short terms if you ask something unnecessary.

He'll worry for you too. Gotham is so dangerous. You know what you signed up for. Still he'll teach you stuff that you don't know. And tell you not to be afraid to turn away from a fight if you definitely can't win it.

Wanting answers out of a criminal will work so easily for you since he'll be standing threateningly behind you.

Just imagine flying with him while holding him. Would be so silly huh? 'Better not end up on the news, fly higher' he says

Works the other way around too. Expect hes shameless about it

Saving his sidekicks or him would make his trust go up 100% towards you.

At a point he'll trust you so much he'll take you with the batmobil. Maybe you'd be interested in the batcave? (Ofc you are)

You hide your eyes when he goes to remove his mask. He can't help but smile at that, he knew he could trust you. He slowly puts your hands down and you gasp. "Bruce wayne?! What the heck"

Well now you have to remove your mask too, bet he has no idea who you are hmm? Well maybe he knew, maybe he didn't, oh well don't worry about it.

He'll even give you a little device to call him up whenever you need help.

Your like a little fun relief to his life, you might not know but you do make his day. How about a nice dinner at the Wayne's? Don't worry Al likes you already (cuz 'finally Master Bruce is making friends, that last atleast')

[withonly-sweetheart]

Your Hero

Friendly neighborhood Spiderman, huh? You wouldn’t have expected your new dorky nerd best friend to be passing in the shadows of the charming hero behind the mask, hanging upside down and staring at you with odd interest. Why does he seem oddly familiar?

a/n: @candlekiss THIS HAS BEEN FORMULATING FOR QUITE A WHILE... ITS JUST BEEN MARINATING... TRUST ME THE BEST FOOD GETS MARINATED FOR LIKE THREE YEARS 😭😭😭

UR ART INSPIRES ME SM !! NEVER GIVE UP ON UR DREAMS BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SCENARIO WITHOUT YOUR ART I WOULDNT HAVE "to keep an angel" OR THIS FIC!! ILYSM MARI <3

college leon art omg mari u are such a queen (bt dubs college leon is literally this hes a dorky nerd 🤓💗) nerd!leon art here

tw: fluff from college leon and spiderman leon because they've both been swirling in my mind fr !!

wc: 3.3k

To be fair, you didn’t pay much attention to Leon at the beginning of the semester. You kept to your separate corners of the world; his being the potted plant near the doorway, where he stood with a bag slung over his shoulder every day, eyes narrowing at the watch on his left wrist, and…

Maybe you have paid attention to him.

It was a dance you had forgotten you’d learned, talking with him. He’s not the same guy you remember from high school, the one who always stuttered through answers and pushed his glasses up when the class mocked him.

The only person being mocked seems to be you now, three weeks into the semester, and the dip of your already fluctuating grades is enough to spur you to find a tutor. Your professor doesn’t seem to be much help, offers you a weak smile and a shrug and tells you to find resources elsewhere.

And you find it in the once, now self-assured straighten of his back as you snake around the crowd to tap his shoulder, grinning broadly.

“Heard you’re pretty good at this stuff,” you offer vaguely. Leon cocks a brow and you don’t expect the amused smile on his face to cause you to feel flustered.

“Guess I am,” he replies, and it seems that not only has his personality and appearance changed, but his voice is at least an octave deeper. It resonates through your entire body in a way that's difficult to describe. “Why? Need help?”

An awkward silence stretches between you as the implications of his altered tone sink in. Clearing your throat, you shuffle your feet and continue, "So, uh, when are you free?"

Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. "Is lunch okay for you?"

You consider it for a moment. “Wow, are you asking me out?”

He winks and you just about buckle to the ground. “Didn’t you come up to me first?”

<><><><>

The chair makes an absurdly loud sound when Leon scoots closer, hands clenched around the base of his seat, a bashful smile on his face as he waves his apologies to all the wandering, hesitant eyes that meet you.

It’s been about a month, and there seems to be no progress with your grades. You would consider dropping him altogether if it weren’t for the strange fact that you enjoy his company, cherish that he takes time from his evidently busy schedule to tutor you.

“Go on,” he prompts when you snap back to attention, startling from his fingers waving in front of you, brushing your nose. “What else did you notice?”

“There was definitely a lot of conflict in the last few scenes,” you mutter, trying to recall last night’s frantic reading that he had assigned three weeks ago.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t really say death is conflicting, would you?” he replies dryly, dropping his head to glance up at you from under his glasses, and therefore, his long, wispy eyelashes. They reflect the dim lights of the library, seeming to sparkle and illuminate his eyes.

“... yes?”

“No one dies,” he says, stirring from his position once again to stretch his arms against the table, lying his cheek onto the muscle of his bicep, staring up at you with a puffier face. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

“... no?”

“I can’t be here forever,” he whispers, quietly, only for your ears. “You know how many things I have to be doing. Put the effort in. For me, please?”

And something about his tone is so sincere, so genuine that it makes you want to try harder, push yourself, do the homework on time and actually do something about your grades.

<><><><>

You’ve grown to consider him a friend. Your grades have lifted, as has the burden from your shoulders, head high when you stroll out of the lecture hall, and spot Leon fumbling with the vending machine nearby.

It’s a habit to startle him whenever you see him outside of classes, yet you don’t understand the strange looks you get. In any case, he is infinitely a better person than you had expected, better than everyone you had tried to get with initially.

He flinches at your touch, fingers creeping between his arm and torso, wiggling to spark a surprisingly tired laugh.

“What kept you up all night?” you tease. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing of the sort,” he responds gruffly, eyes softening in exhaustion. “That would be better than what’s going on right now.”

Leon is a reserved man. He trusts you to some extent, where, on the other hand, you’re ready to give your life for him. You get attached quickly, what can you say?

<><><><>

You’ve grown used to barging into your shared rooms, not announcing your arrival, often catching Leon off guard, staring down at something on his phone before he shoves it away, that same embarrassed expression slipping off his face when you ask what’s wrong.

​​You arrive back at your dorm after a long day of classes, exhausted and looking forward to relaxing. But what’s past that door is everything that you would think not to expect.

"Oh- hey, you're back!" Leon says with a grin. But that's not all that catches your attention - your roommate has a bizarre outfit on; a brown, crinkled leather jacket, cargo pants, something that looks horrifyingly bland on him. And is that a splash of blue you see peeking out from underneath everything?

"Uh, Leon..." you reply, taken aback. "Didn't realize you were into cosplay. Something you need to tell me?"

"It’s, uhm, complicated," Leon replies vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s just say I have some important work to take care of."

"Right, because you're secretly the city’s hero," you deadpan, still not sure whether to believe this outrageous claim. “Well, come back soon, alright? I need help decoding chapters 18 and 24.”

“Of course,” he says with a wink. “I’ll just be a minute.”

But a minute goes by, which you expect, but then that minute morphs into a hour, and then two, then four, and eventually you’re worriedly pacing your dorm floor, awaiting a phone call, text message, anything to just know-

The phone vibrates a moment later as you rush to fish it out of your baggy pockets, jamming your finger against the notification.

Of course its not him. An unknown number, something fairly recognizable but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The hometown seems to be somewhere far away, starting digits something you don’t have the time to search up when the next text pops up.

Come outside? :)

who is this?

I just have your notes. Hurry up.

oh, thanks! gimme a sec

You remember requesting notes to study from Leon, but he gave your number to his friend, without your consent, might you add, so this must be him. He deemed this friend was far more outgoing, far more entertaining, a better person to hang out with.

You don’t expect Spiderman to be this friend of his.

<><><><>

“I’m starting to think you like me,” he jests, months later, on one of his patrols of the city. He always swings by your window, conveniently always timing his visits when Leon’s out with duties at the police station. You want to deny the accusation, but can't bring yourself to lie to the webslinger perched outside your window.

Not when those masked eyes peer at you with such care and familiarity. Like they see straight into your conflicted soul.

Not when you don’t want them to hang out. Of course not. The problem is your heart is pulling you in two different ways, down two paths that never intersect, and navigating these tangled feelings seems impossible without hurting one of them. They're so alike, yet fate keeps your two dimensions apart. You don't know how much longer your heart can take the strain.

But you bottle it all up, every little bit of you that screams to be adored, cherished in the way they both look at you, one through a mask and the other through glasses, both doing little to nothing to hide their emotions, the expressive raises of their eyebrows.

They’re definitely like each other, a little too much, you suspect.

A sigh escapes your lips. "It's not that simple. You both..." You shake your head, not wanting to put either in an awkward position. Some walls are better left unbreached. "Just focus on helping people, okay? That's what's really important."

He crouches silently beside you for a while, sensing your troubled thoughts without needing to be told. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle. 

"You seem really down. What do you say I take you around the city for a bit? Might do you some good to get some air." He nods toward the skyline glowing in the dusk. "No better view than from up high, if you're up for it."

You eye him hesitantly, unsure if facing your feelings while swinging between skyscrapers is the best idea. But it has been so long since his invitation stirred your spirit rather than your heart. And you could really use a distraction. 

Gripping his offered hand, you nod. "Sure. Why not? I definitely might not die from this." 

Spiderman chuckles, pulling you firmly against his side. "You better hang on tight then." 

A spray of webbing shoots forth and you're jolted into the air, wind whipping around you both. Your uncertain thoughts fade against the euphoria of flight.

For now, it's just you and the freefall through flooded lights.

And the handsome, mysterious, masked hero you’re wrapped around.

<><><><>

“I can’t see you anymore,” your hero mutters one night as you push the window open, eagerly awaiting his tranquil presence, the idea that he takes the burden, the pressure of school off your shoulders, sharing the weight of the sky with you.

“What?” You stare up at him and he stretches, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Can we talk?” He gestures down at the alley between your dorm building and the conveniently close laundromat, however loud the broken washing machines get.

“Yeah.” Your lips form a purse, behind them, your thoughts are clumsy and tie themselves in a bow around your tongue, presented to Spiderman as broken sentences as you approach his state.

He’s hanging upside down, face tilted curiously, in a crouching position, held by only the thinning strand of web, and you wonder how that small thing is able to carry such a physique. 

“I’m putting you in danger,” he protests a few minutes later, standing in front of you, back turned away as you lean against the brick wall, crossing your arms with a stubborn huff.

“Have I died?” You shake our head like a little kid. “No!”

"What's your endgame, huh?" he asks in desperation, wildly turning to confront you. "Why do you insist on being friends with me?"

"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" you retort flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in your eyes. "Am I bothering you or something?"

“They’re all after me," he frantically explains, words spilling out of your mouth like water from a broken dam. "I’m literally the most wanted man right now!" 

"But you seem to be handling it well," you counter.

"Can't you see?!" he shrieks, voice bordering on the hysterical, and you can see the prayer in his expression, that the fear in his eyes will send you packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"

“How can you be so sure?” you ask, disbelief coating your words, unable to determine whether or not he’s weaving tales to get you off his back.

“Because,” he hisses, a tight whisper, “I’ve lost too many people. Too many people I love.”

“Love?” You scoff. “You wouldn’t be this ecstatic to get me away from you if you really loved me?”

Spiderman looks at you, confusion etched on his face. “You… think I don’t love you?”

“Obviously not.”

“How can I prove it?” he asks, stepping closer, face softening, closing the agonizing distance between you with a few steps. “I can’t promise your safety. I love you too much to let you die.”

“Of course you do,” you say, waving off his words.

“How do I prove it?” he repeats, more pressing, urgent, like he needs a response before he does anything. His hands are right there, so close to your waist, and you find yourself itching to throw yourself into his arms.

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “And I’ll know.”

You see him grin. You think he’ll take the whole mask off, but that was proving too much to hope for, but your heart still flutters when you see the bottom half of his face, faintly recognizable, but the hazy feeling in your mind that sparks from his lips only serves to cloud your thoughts even more.

His mouth presses harder against yours, hand curling around your hip, slotting in perfectly like it’s meant to be there, for what feels like another second before he pulls away roughly.

All too briefly, he tears his lips away to yank down his mask, chest heaving. "Shit, I shouldn't have..."

But the words die when you reach up to caress his cheek, seeing the flush that spreads underneath the mask. "It's okay. I wanted this too."

Leon's eyes - no, Spiderman's eyes - drop shut like he's in physical pain. "You don't know what you're asking. I can't… we can't..."

You try to reassure him but he backs away each time, out of reach, like he’s further away than you can see, deserts and oceans, miles and miles between you, even though just a moment ago he was closer than you’d ever imagined.

And you yearn to know who he is.

You suspect you’ve known all along.

How silly is it?

"When you're ready to stop running," you call softly, "you know where to find me."

And you’ll know where to find him.

<><><><>

The first piece of evidence to support your claim comes the afternoon following that night, with your squinted eyes trailing Leon everywhere, drawing a chuckle from that beautiful mouth, the mouth that, you suspect, had been pressed furiously against yours last night.

Not only that, something seems off with his shoulder. It’s held stiff at his side, and everytime you decide to be lazy and ask him to fetch something from the kitchen, he winces, grumbles something under his breath, rolls his shoulder and stalks away.

After a few days of waiting for your ‘beloved dormmate’ to open up to you, you take matters into your own hands. He hasn’t even fumbled to grab his keys from his pocket before you spring up from the couch, swing the door open and steer him over to where you were just sitting.

You peel away his shirt before he can protest, leaving him bare chested and stammering, skin burning into crimson. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs as you press the area.

“I may not know how to read,” you reply, prodding his shoulder blade, “but I know how to treat injuries just fine.”

“Why not become a doctor?”

You shrug. “Too much work.”

He smiles, and the curve of his lip, so similar to the smart mouth and remarks you looked forward to every night is the second piece you need.

<><><><>

The third, and final, you hope, piece comes when you sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face as you enter your dorm room. Safe to say that without Leon’s tutoring due to his more and more frequent absences, occasionally showing up only to be slumped at his table, snoring softly.

Without him listening, you knew you were doomed. So you’re about to scream your ass off, chastising him, telling him to get to class quicker, that whatever he does in his free time can wait.

But Leon stands by the window in a way that gives you pause. His back is turned, shoulders hunched as if lost in thought. What really catches your eye, though, is the bit of red fabric dangling from his fingers.

"Everything okay?" you ask slowly, shutting the door behind you. Leon whips around at the sound, hastily stuffing the fabric - no, his mask - into his pocket. But not before you notice the familiar webbed pattern. 

"Fine!" he replies, a little too cheerfully to be real. "Just, uh, thinking. Hey, did you see that video of the guy backflipping off a building? Crazy stunts people pull these days."

You raise a brow. "Sure, but it looks like you've got something else on your mind. Or should I say under your clothes?" Leon pales. Without a word, you stride over and pluck the mask from his pocket, giving it a wave.

"Want to explain this?" Your tone is light, but inside your heart hammers. Finally, after weeks of prancing around the bush, he’ll give it to you straight, setting things right.

Leon stares at the mask like a deer in headlights, at a total loss for words. You've never seen him so unsettled.

"Look, I can explain," he says anxiously. "Just, hear me out before you freak, alright?" 

You arch an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "I'm listening."

Leon launches into a tale - the spider bite, the powers, how he's used them these past months to protect the city from the shadows. By the end, you’re hanging onto each word - you didn’t know your friend was quite the storyteller.

"So you're really him, huh?" you say, still processing that your suspicions had indeed been correct. "My secretive roommate is the one and only Spiderman."  

Leon runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's a lot to take in.”

“Not really,” you say with a shrug.

He stares at you blankly. “What?”

“You think I couldn’t tell from that night in the alley?” you muse. “I’m not as dense as you think, Spidey.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, relief washing over your face at the fact he isn’t mad about that. "Spidey? How cute.”

You match his grin. "Now you're talking." You hand the mask back to him, crossing your arms with a stern look. “Now, I don't need your protection, Leon," you insist, softening as he flinches at your use of his real name. "We're in this together, like it or not. No more secrets, deal?"

Leon sighs, gripping the mask tighter. Slowly, he nods, relaxing his expression. "No more secrets. And you can call me Spidey, if you want."

You pretend to mull it over. "Hmm… well, now I’m not so sure it has the same ring to it as Spider-man." But saying it makes Leon's entire face light up like a kid on Christmas. You can't help but return his infectious grin.

“Alright then,” you say, unable to stop cheesing. “Now get back out there! There’s a city calling your name!”

Leon quirks a brow, and you tilt your head to question the gesture.

“Can I count on the next person calling my name being you?” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you. 

“You can count on your nose being broken if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds,” you joke and Leon seems to visibly lose the blood in his cheeks.

You find it adorable that he takes you seriously.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, clambering through the window, as if he’s suddenly in a rush.

“Yeah?” you reply, humming to yourself as you stroll over to him, pondering what your life will be like from now on, having a superhero as your best friend- no, you realize, looking into his iridescent eyes. Boyfriend.

“Remember to read chapter 37,” he says dotingly. Then he leans down to capture your lips and words in a quick kiss. Then he’s grinning and gone.

Vanished into the night, a shadow slung across the bright city lights.

Your hero.

[gatorbites-imagines]

um could I request Conner Kent with a male reader who is just like him. Reader is a clone of another hero made by Cadmus, but the reader is a year or two older. When Conner and their first meet is during his initial escape and him coming apart from the team, and them bonding over them being clones. What would their relationship be like.

Conner Kent x Plastic Man Clone Male Reader

Headcanons

Reader is a clone of Plastic Man, cuz I love him.

Heyo my Hatchlings, how has everyone been doing? I finally finished up my assignment and I’m finally back. Did you guys miss me?

As a clone of Plastic Man, you put a good amount of people on edge when you appeared. Seeing as Plastic Man is very much immortal and unbeatable in the long game, they feared if you were good or evil, as there wouldn’t really be any way to defeat you if you turned out to be bad.

Luckily for them, you turned out to be as good of a guy as a clone of Plastic Man could be. You weren’t completely black and white, and sure you stole sometimes, and had a habit out of causing problems for corrupt people in power, but who were they to blame you.

You lived with Patrick Obrian, since he’s the closest thing you have to a family, and he never even had the thought of rejecting you because of your clone status. If anybody knows what its like to be judged and struggling to exist, its him.

Patrick plays an active supportive role in your life, and he teaches you how to use your powers. You end up being very skilled at the shapeshifting part of your shared powers. Sure, you still stretched, grew or shrank in size, anything Plastic Man could do, but you enjoyed shapeshifting the most. You even got a hang on switching colors, something Patrick struggled with.

When Young Justice was cooked up, you were one of the first they placed on the team. Mainly because of how powerful you were, and since part of them wanted to keep an eye on you, just in case.

You never took anything too seriously, it just came with the territory of being a clone of Plastic Man. Live life and all that. You did get into some arguments with different members of the team when it comes to morals, but that’s to be expected of a team.

When the team finds and rescues Conner, you immediately feel a level of kinship with him. Your clone status isn’t known outside of the league, so the knowledge Conner was born with doesn’t let him know you are a clone too.

As everyone tries to figure out what to do with Conner, you just settle down beside him, your stretched limbs dragging closer to you until they’re the normal length, where you offer him a snack or something to drink.

“Youd think they’d be better at dealing with clones, huh?” you joke, chewing on your own snack as he just looks at you, still confused and on edge about everything.

At his questioning glance, you lift your goggles and wink at him, pointing a thumb at yourself as you almost proudly declare yourself a clone of the best member of the justice league, if you were to be asked anyways.

As the league tries to figure it all out, you sit with Conner and just talk his ear off, never letting him wallow to far and making it harder for him to overhear the negative things said about him. Only Patrick knew, but the League fearing that you’d turn evil still weighed on you, and you didn’t want Conner to deal with the same thing.

Its only after you’ve made him smile and laugh that you accept that you’ve done your duty. When its time to leave you give him a way to contact you, and give him another cheesy wink before pulling your goggles back on, telling him that you clones should stick together.

Over time you become one of the people Conner is closest too, especially when he isn’t as welcomes by the people around him as he had hoped. This angers you and by extension Patrick, but your father figure just rolls his eyes and says he isn’t surprised.

In the beginning Conner spends a lot of time with you and Patrick, but mainly you, since you are closer in age. To be someone to look up too, you even stop with your petty crime for a while, just so your bad reputation won’t rub off on Conner.

Seeing him mingle better with the team, you take a happy step back and let him build the relationships he craves. Because of your different opinions and looser morals, you never became much more than acquaintances with the team, but seeing your fellow clone happy is enough for you.

But even as Conner gets closer to the team, he still holds onto you, since you were the first person to show him casual kindness without any suspicion or wanting something in return. You also have a lot more life skill than he does, so going to you for advice is normal for him.

When the time comes, you were most likely the one to leave the young justice team first out of everyone. You just don’t fit into their dynamic, and you run best on your own or with your father figure. Its hard to be an immortal who would never get to experience true normal life on a team of people who could.

You don’t leave the league, but you become more of a contractor, someone they call in when they need the help. You keep beating up bad guys, but you also fall back on the familiar feeling of crime. You only steal from those that deserve it though, and use your shapeshifting to easily get away with it.

It becomes a bit of a running gag, as the league always sends the young justice team after you since you aren’t an actual lethal threat. It kinda becomes training for them, and since Meghan can’t ever find you through mind powers, they have to work hard to find you.

When Conner leaves the team you to go out for drinks. Who cares about your ages. Seeing your father figure, you could be thousands of years old and never age physically, so it didn’t matter to you.

If your relationship was romantic, this would most likely be where it developed further, since Conner would be less tied to the team, and he could spend more time with you.

If your relationship isn’t romantic, it would still develop from here, just become more brotherly. You always joke you’re the batman to his superman, always shapeshifting into batman when you do, much to Conners fake annoyance.

Honestly even if it became romantic, youd still transform into batman and make kissy faces at him, since superbat is probably a running gag in the league.

You guys go on dates, even if its platonic, just to spend time together, maybe travel the world a bit, or even travel space, since you could easily survive away from earth. Theres probably also some very deep conversations about existence and your worth, since being a clone and always being treated like one weigh heavy on anyone.

When it truly hits Conner how much you struggle with your own role as a clone, he’s a bit surprised. Hed never imagined you were just completely fine, but you had always seemed to let the comments and suspicion roll off your back.

All in all, you two have each other’s back, always. The bond you have is deep in the way only two people created the same place for the same purpose can have. So, no matter if its romantic or platonic, you two become a familiar sight on and off the battlefield.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Better Than Revenge

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: uhhhh in accidentally posting the wrong thing I think I wrote the wrong request at some point so you know what there’s gonna be a bonus story okay. OKAY now that I’m reading this I’m- I think- I did the request wrong and uhhh….. well here’s you know evidently another bonus fic I hate everything 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Eddie can literally hear Buck laughing all the way to the truck, okay maybe not all the way but a damn good ways down the hall that’s for sure

He has no fucking clue how he got locked in a closet, but he did. At least he wasn’t alone… he looks over at you, sitting with your ankles crossed on the floor. Your head hung so low he can’t bear to look at you anymore without asking 

And he really shouldn’t. 

He should just keep to himself, he should just-

“Are you okay?” 

Dammit Eddie. 

“Huh?” You look up at him, your face stained with tears and it breaks his heart, his Mexican, telenovela, hopeless romantic heart. Because you’re so pretty and you smell so good and is this stupid room getting smaller?? 

Okay, that was a bit much but you get it. He gets on one knee, pulls his glove off with his teeth, and reaches for you, tilting your head up

“Hey… hey what’s going on? Are you hurt? Did something happen??” 

His inner hero is practically clawing at its enclosure to save help girl, this really really, pretty girl. 

And your inner…. Uh, something is clawing at its enclosure to jump this man. 

“No! No, it’s- not it’s nothing like that” you laugh awkwardly, wiping at your tears quickly. “I- I'm sorry” You shove those thoughts very very (not) very far away as you try to control your tears 

“No please, don’t apologize… are you okay?” Eddie comes to sit next to you, plopping down on the cement floor. He takes his helmet off along with his other glove and gets comfy… they’re gonna be there for a while. 

“I’m… yeah I’m fine” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders weakly. He nods slowly, looking down at his helmet in his hands 

“You know…. If you tell me the truth-“ he picks it up, setting it down carefully on your head “I’ll let you wear the helmet” 

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder and shaking your head slowly “I’m not five oh my god” you giggle as you hold the helmet on your head and look up at him 

“Yeah, but it got you to smile didn’t it?” He shrugs off his jacket, the room may be small but it is entirely concrete and entirely underground, he can feel the chill in the air as he puts it over your shoulders, the frayed, distressed shorts and oversized crop top not really cutting it down here. 

You hug the jacket to your body, sticking your arms through the holes. It smells good, kind of smokey, kind of earthy, definitely something that’s probably signature him.

“Alright, I’ve given you my coat, and my hat. Now you gotta tell me what’s wrong” he nudges you back and you smile a little more, rolling your eyes 

“Okay fine. I came to visit my boyfriend? He’s got an office near almost the top floor. Well… uh- it was supposed to be a surprise! But you know… imagine my surprise… when this fucking asshole has his secretary bent over his desk!” 

Eddie’s mouth drops open when you say that, he splutters, gesturing wildly and you nod vigorously 

“Yeah!!! And she knew he had a girlfriend! She knows me!!!” 

He gasps so loudly it echoes around the room

“Are- are you?!!! Are you shitting me?!” He grabs his radio from his jacket, clicking it 

“Buck?… oh my god Buck I have tea” 

You fall against him laughing as Buck answers back 

“Oh my god, spill” 

Eddie repeats back what you said, and Buck is gasping wildly, reacting absolutely ridiculously 

“Oh you tell me what the fuck this asshole looks like”

“No no I-“

“I’m not gonna beat his ass yet. I just want to know if he even stuck around” 

You roll your eyes, describing him and Buck scoffs “Oh. That guy.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He was worried about his office. Said he’s got a nice set of golf clubs he’d gotten for his birthday in there, his prized possession”

Eddie looks at you as you blink back tears “T-that’s all he said? That’s all he’s worried about?” You ask, your voice cracking and Eddie has to look away for a second 

“Uh yeah… I’m- I’m sorry kiddo, maybe he doesn’t know you’re in there. Let me find out okay?” 

“Okay” 

You set the radio down and stare at the wall, just waiting quietly. Eddie reaches out for you, catching a tear as it falls down your cheek 

“He probably doesn’t know” 

“He does” you sniff, wiping at your tears and sighing loudly “No. he uh- he fucking knows.” You laugh bitterly 

“Y/N come on there’s no way he-“

“He fucking knew” Buck growls back into the radio and Eddie picks it up 

“Are you shitting me?!” 

“It’s okay!” Buck perks up “I punched him in his stupid fucking face!!” 

Your head whips to the radio as Eddie laughs “You did what?!” You squeak your face lighting up 

“Oh, Buck I could kiss you!!” 

“Give it to Eddie for me, I’m sure he’d love that” 

“Oh my god she’s not gonna-“

“Bet” 

You pull him toward you, kissing him slowly, his hands come to your waist immediately, squeezing lightly as he kisses you back. He moans quietly into your mouth, his lips moving in sync with yours and you purr softly. You pull away a little and he follows you, making a little “nuh huh” noise, and you giggle, letting him cup the back of your head, kissing you deeper. Your hand comes up his chest, fingers pulling at the bottom of his hair when Buck clears his throat 

“A-are you guys actually kissing?” 

Eddie lets you pull away this time, letting his head rest against the wall behind him as he stares at you. You stare back, your cheeks pink as you wet your lips 

“Uh- no?” Eddie answers back and you snort 

“That was not very convincing,” You and Buck say in unison. You giggle and go to stand up to stretch your legs out when there’s a sudden loud rumbling noise 

“Edd-“ the radio buzzes as the sound gets louder 

“Y/N! Come over “ He yanks you down into his lap, pulling you tight into his body as he turns you both over, shielding you. A few panels fall loose from the ceiling around and you scream when something giant hits the door, putting a large dent in it  

“Eddie?? Eddie, are you okay? Y/N?? Anyone??” 

You sneeze as the dust settles, and Eddie pulls away from you 

“That’s your sneeze?” He coughs a little and you punch him in the shoulder 

“What’s that supposed to mean!” 

“Oh nothing… little kitty” He coos and you pick up one of the ceiling panels and threaten to hit him with it 

“Please, please anyone??” You hear Buck’s voice. Watery and worried 

“Buck? Hey, it’s us we’re okay it’s us. What happened??” 

“Oh thank god. Oh god Eddie the building settled, you guys are…. A bit more stuck. Is everything okay in there? Is Y/N okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. We’re both okay, just a little dusty… how much is “a bit”?”

“We’re gonna need a crane,” he says bluntly and Eddie groans 

“And we’re not high enough on the list are we?” 

“List?” You ask quietly 

“As long as neither of you are hurt and everything is still structurally sound? No.” 

Eddie sighs and looks at you “Other people need that crane more than you and I do”

“So now we’re really really stuck huh?” 

“Yup” 

It’s been two hours since the door had been blocked. You’ve got your head in Eddie’s lap as he strokes your hair slowly, listening to you talk. You’ve both gone back and forth, discussing a lot of different things, a lot of deep things that a stranger knowing wouldn’t really hurt anything…

“You think one day you’ll feel normal?” You ask quietly, picking at his pants and he shrugs, looking down at your hair around his lap 

“I don’t know” 

“For what it’s worth? I hope you find your peace Eddie… I really do” you mumble and he smiles softly 

“I dunno… this has been pretty peaceful” He chuckles quietly “Thanks uh… thanks for listening”

“Hey? What are “locked in a closet” buddies for?” 

You sit up, giving him a little kiss on the cheek, and push yourself up. He looks at you as you stretch above him, admiring your plush curves from his position on the floor. 

It wasn’t the first time the conversation had turned a little steamy, a little flirty. But it was the first time he’d felt a little bit of a pull toward you. Especially after the things he’d just told you, for the first time, he felt heard… he felt seen. Not to mention that freaking kiss, he couldn’t take his mind off of it, the feel of your lips against his, the way your body felt against him. 

“You know uh… you’re really beautiful. I can’t believe Jared fucking cheated on you.” 

Your cheeks flush as you look down at him, he’s sat between your legs, his ankles crossed. There’s no harm in letting you know how pretty he thinks you are…

“You uh… you really think so?” You blush and he nods slowly 

“He’s never seen you in a fireman’s uniform huh? Never seen the way it drowns you.” 

“Well I mean- he’s not as big as you are” 

You mean how tall he is, how… big his arms are, how broad his shoulders are- 

“I didn’t think he was… leaving such a pretty little thing like you”

“Are you flirting with me?” You turn away, toward the blocked door, and you hear his legs uncross, widening his stance. 

“Maybe? Would you mind if I was?” He twiddles his thumbs and you turn back, reaching down and grabbing his gloves, he watches you slide them on, drowning in his work outfit and it’s doing things to him if he’s being honest. Is this a kink? It feels like a new kink. 

“It’s helpful… in- in a moment where I’m not feeling so hot you know?”

“Are you joking?? You’re gonna let that asshole make you feel like you’re not the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen? To ever exist??”

You laugh a little “Oh come on Eddie? The-“

“Hottest.” He interrupts you not even giving you room to fight him 

“I still think you’re just saying that. But thank you” You give him a little bow and he pulls you down by the jacket and you stumble onto his lap 

“Hey be careful! You might-“ 

He presses his lips to yours, his hands coming up and cupping your face. You shortcircuit for a second and he smirks against your lips. He takes your hands one by one sets them on his chest and nips at your bottom lip when you curl your fingers around his shirt 

“Now you’re getting it” He whispers breathily before slipping his tongue past your lips, taking full advantage of your floundering and exploring your mouth. His hands start to roam, sliding beneath the oversized coat and gently across your bare middle. He hums appreciatively as they come up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing across the bottom of your bra 

“You can tell me to stop” He kisses down your jaw, biting on the nape of your neck and you gasp softly, melting into his body 

“N-no fucking chance. God, you’re kissing me better than he ever did” 

Eddie looks up at you as he sucks and nibbles at your collarbone “Bet there’s a whole lot of things I can do better than he ever did…” His hands cup your breasts, squeezing gently and massaging them slowly 

“We’re alone… and it seems like we’ve got time…” You trail off, your cheeks blushing and you feel him grin against your skin 

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” 

“That depends on what you think I’m suggesting” 

Eddie takes the radio from his jacket again “Hey Buck, you there?” 

“Always” 

“Is Jared out there?” 

The line is silent for a moment and you take that opportunity to surprise Eddie, rocking your hips forward on him and attacking his lips. You kiss him frantically, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him closer. He chuckles wickedly, pushing you back onto the floor and settling between your legs, you struggle out of the coat and he laughs, helping you get it off 

“Eddie?” Buck's voice comes through the radio and he stretches to reach for it while unbuttoning your shorts at the same time 

“Here” He answers, watching you desperately unbutton his shirt 

“Why do you have so many!?” You hiss and he snorts, just ripping it open the rest of the way 

“Better??” 

You’re practically drooling over his chest, his skin smooth and tanned. You blink slowly as Buck comes back 

“Yeah, he’s definitely still here. Trust me, I’ve been making him feel as guilty as possible. I gotchu Y/N”

You pull your shirt over your head, and Eddie bites his lip 

“Damn…” 

you grin wickedly as you pull your arms from your bra straps, pushing it further down your waist and out of the way, the cool air around you causing your nipples to pebble 

“Jesus fuckin-“

“Eddie?? You there?” 

You reach forward and click the button “He’s here. Thanks for making Jared feel guilty!” 

Eddie takes your breasts in his hands, kneading them slowly, squeezing and teasing your nipples. He leans forward, kissing the valley between your breasts, pulling them together, and rubbing his face against them. He bites the sensitive skin gently, leaving teeth marks and little bruises behind. Your breath hitches, tugging at his hair and egging him on to do it again and again. 

“Fuck you’re hot” His hips grind down into yours and your thighs shake 

“I want you, Y/N” 

“Hey guys if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, Revenge sex is the way to go. Trust me I’ve been telling Jared all about how amazing and cool and sexy Eddie is!” Buck squeals through the radio and Eddie rolls his eyes as you giggle 

“Thanks, man. Thank you, uh we’re just- we’re-“ You shimmy out of your shorts, revealing the tiny thong you’d put on as a surprise and now it’s Eddie’s turn to short circuit. He stares at the sheer material covering your dripping sex. He drags his finger over the top of them, enjoying the way your slick coats his finger 

“You’re???” Buck radios and you reach forward, taking the radio back 

“Let that asshole know he’s been replaced” 

You toss it aside, Buck is making some weird strangled screaming noise and screaming at Jared when the radio cuts off. Eddie’s pants are off as fast as he possibly can and he’s stroking his cock between your thighs 

His eyes darken as he lines up his cock with your entrance, pushing inside you slowly. You’re tight, and he relishes the feeling of being inside you.

“O-oh my god- Fuck” You wriggle under him, adjusting to his size as best you can “H-holy sh-“

“Bigger?” His voice is so haughty and confident and you nod quickly, squirming 

“Sooooo much bigger” 

“You gonna be okay?” He puts his hand on your tummy, pushing you back down and you gasp loudly “Need more time?” He asks teasingly as his hips start to move slowly.

You shake your head, reaching for him and he grins, leaning into you as you rip off his gloves and claw at his back, your body arching into him eagerly 

Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts. He kisses your neck, his other hand gripping your ass, guiding his cock in and out of your wet heat.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his pace picking up. He’s relentless, his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust. Your legs fall open wider, your body bouncing with each snap of his hips. 

Eddie grins, feeling your legs spread wider, giving him better access. He picks up the pace, his thrusts now brutal, his cock slamming into you with every movement. “You like that, don’t you? You like it rough?” He growls, his hand gripping your throat, squeezing gently.

You’re so close, the building tension threatening to explode. Eddie can feel it too, his own release building with each thrust. He pounds into you, his grip on your throat tightening, the combination of pain and pleasure driving you both over the edge.

Eddie moans your name, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes. You cry out, your body convulsing as you reach your own climax. He holds you close, his breathing heavy as he rides out the aftershocks.

“Damn, that was hot,” he pants, his cock still buried inside you. 

“S-so- so-“ You sound delirious as he releases your throat and pulls out, leaving a trail of cum between your legs. 

“Fuck” He mumbles as he falls next to, pulling you into his arms. You curl into his body, nuzzling your nose against his chest and he buries his face in your hair 

“Uh huh” you giggle, your voice muffled 

“I- I realize” he clears his throat “We uh- we did this a bit backward… but Buck is having a cookout this weekend…you wanna be my date?” 

“Will there be other sexy firefighters?” You look up at him and he rolls his eyes, chuckling and giving your butt a little spank 

“Not as sexy as me… will you do me the honor? Y/N” 

“I’ll be there… you want my number?” You grin sleepily 

“Mhmmm” He turns over, covering you more with his body to keep you warm “Need your address too so I can pick you up” 

“What a gentleman” You giggle and he kisses your nose 

“Can I ask you somethin else?” 

“Uh-huh” 

“You uh…. Think you might be okay with just skipping to being my girlfriend?” 

“That depends” You murmur, your voice becoming a lot softer as you start to fall asleep 

“On?” He gives you a little nudge so you wake up 

“If you don’t mind skipping straight to being my boyfriend?“

“Oh hell yes” 

You’re not really sure how long you've been asleep, but Eddie is shaking you gently. Your clothes are back on properly and you’re wrapped up in his jacket still. He’s got his clothes back on and his shirt is as closed as he can get it. You can hear the sounds of the crane working to get you two out 

“Time to leave?” You ask, rubbing your eyes and Eddie gives you a thumbs up 

“Time to leave baby girl” 

Your cheeks flush deeply, It had felt like a dream honestly, you weren’t even sure it had happened. But when Eddie grabs your hips and kisses you again desperately you know it wasn’t. 

The door flies open and slams against the wall, you shriek as you pull away, covering your eyes from the sunlight on your face

“Y/N!!!, Eddie!!” 

You recognize the voice from the radio as he comes over and scoops you up, hugging you as tightly as he can 

“You’re okay!!” 

Eddie gets up from the floor, groaning loudly and stretching his back “I am too damn old for this” 

You snort as Buck picks Eddie’s helmet up off the floor and sets it on your head 

“You ready to get out of here cutie?” Buck takes your hand and you look up at Eddie who shrugs his shoulders 

“I’m ready” 

Buck helps you out carefully, climbing over a few pieces of debris left in the way. 

“Hey, you sure you didn’t get hurt?” He’s standing in front of you, his hands on your hips as he steadies you. Eddie lands on his feet easily, adjusting his shirt again to try and keep it closed 

“What uh- what do you mean?” You ask as you shrug off Eddie’s coat and hand it to him 

“You’re walking funny, honey. And you wince every time-“ He stops for a minute, his eyes widening 

“Did- did you guys actually-“ 

He’s interrupted by a man calling your name, he’s got a black eye and you slap your hand over your mouth 

“You seriously punched him?!” You laugh to Buck as Jared comes over 

“And it’s so worth the amount of trouble I got in” He snickers as Jared stops in front of you 

“Baby?? Baby, are you okay?” He holds your arms, looking you over and you blink slowly

“Are you kidding?? I thought when I ran out of your office screaming that we were over? That was enough to let you know Hey! We’re over!” 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Jared chuckles awkwardly “That- that didn’t happen, honey”

Buck whirls on him and he flinches a little but keeps his eyes on you. Eddie is sitting quietly in the back of the ambulance being looked over 

“Uhhh what??” You scoff in bewilderment 

“Gosh Baby” he laughs, “I think you hit your head, sweetie” 

Your mouth drops open and you shove Jared away 

“I know- I fucking know” you shout “You are not trying to convince me I didn’t see you fucking Angela!!!!” 

“Y/N honey you need to calm down. This is not the way my girlfriend should be-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Eddie is up and he’s on the ground. It happens so fast you’re not even sure you saw it, Eddie punched him right across the face, sending him spinning to the ground 

“I think you mean my girlfriend. Come on gorgeous let’s go get something to eat I’m starving.” 

Buck runs in circles screaming and pointing at Jared as Eddie puts his arm over your shoulders and you proudly lead him over to your car. 

“Yo you just got yo ass WHOOPED” 

[cleewii]

rating: R18+

cw(s): 18+ content/MINORS DNI. sub! izuku, dom+gn! reader, izuku is into being called your wife, everyone is sort of a freak here

wanna make a housewife outta IZUKU.

i mean, it’s all just teasing at first. the occasional comment meant to pull that rosiness out of his cheeks whenever he makes you dinner or does your laundry for you.

“you’d make a good wife, izuku.” paired with a laugh that grows with the way his face blooms afterwards.

it’s all jokes, and he knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but slowly the jokes become more and more frequent. calling him your trophy wife, cute little housewife, telling him how pretty a ring would look on his finger.

when you have him laying against your chest, comfortable between your thighs, the jokes keep coming, even after you’ve already fucked him tender and dumb.

“y’could be my cute lil’ wife, you know.”

the soft feel of your lips against his skin has him shuddering a bit. the feeling only just feathers along his neck, then below his ear, until eventually your pressing kisses trailing across his temple.

“just stay home and look pretty f’me. never have to do all that horrible hero work.” your finger slides down from his soft cheek to his chin, turning his head to face you, all the while he’s staring into your eyes with a glazed over, fucked out expression that has a smile spreading across your face. “wouldn’t you like that, honey?”

“uh huh,” he nods, though the words aren’t reaching his brain. there’s only the light post-orgasm buzz warming him up inside, not a single thought can come through. he’d say yes to anything you’d propose right now, because in his eyes you’re divine, and he is nothing if not devoted to you. “please…”

“sweet thing,” you coo, “of course you would.”

“i’d get home from work n’ you’d be makin’ dinner while wearing that pretty ring i’d get you. as a present, i could bend you over the counter and fuck you on it, just like that…wouldn’t that be nice?”

the blood is starting to make its way back into his cock, and all he can do is stare wide eyed and stupid.

“could dress you up all nice and introduce you to my boss ‘n coworkers. And when we leave the party i’ll screw your pretty brains out in the backseat of the car for being so good f’me.”

you giggle a little, and it’s a sound so delicate and innocent he can hardly wrap his head around the filth coming out of your mouth. but that doesn’t stop the way it twists him up inside and leaves him squirming against you.

“bet you’d love that, huh baby?”

“Y-yes…yeah…oh—,” he groans. “please.” his face is starting to get hot, the rest of his body is already beginning to ache with the need searing in is cock. your words paint pictures in his mind that almost leaves spit trailing under his chin, and he’s not quite sure what to do. beg, cry, whine, it’s horrible, the way you toy with him. “please!”

“what’re you sayin’ please for?” Your fingers trail over his bare chest and teas across his pert nipples. “c’mon angel. use your words.”

“f-fuck…fuck me….!” he gasps. “please! make me…make me yours I—I wan’ it! i wan’ it! wanna be y—yours! please…please…please!”

“yeah? you wanna be mine that bad?”

“yes! oh…oh fuck—! yes!”

“but you’re already mine.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “tell me what you really want.”

his breath catches in his throat and it comes out a strangled whine, one that forces another shade of pink across his face.

‘what you really want’ it’s absurd, it’s embarrassing, but the longer you tease him the more he unravels, and he can feel himself slipping. “don’t—“

“oh c’mon angel…humor me won’t you?”

his lips press together tight as he stares at your hands, which lay on either side of his hip bones, thumbs tracing light circles against his skin. it’s a tantalizing feeling, a dull ache forming in his chest that threatens to bubble up into his throat, and he’s trying with the last threads of self control he has left to keep it at bay.

“do you hate the idea that much?”

“no!” he cries, shaking his head like he’s desperate. “n—no I….I….”

it’s too much. this feeling is too much, your touch is too much, the idea is too much.

But he loves it. he holds onto it like a secret he’ll only share with himself, but with you prodding this way, he’s worried he’ll spill.

He just can’t admit that he loves the joke a little too much.

[insomniasleeps]

GCS Shorts 2

Deleted scenes of my timkon au (they would have made the cut- well they still might this is just brainrot bc I'm tired of chapters that need logic)

Kon: I kind of like "Kon-El" ngl . Nice name he gave me, it could go as a nickname for Conner too.

Lex: I came up with Conner first. *Rolls eyes*

Lex: Superman is very unoriginal.

Kon: But Mercy told me you used a name generator-

~

Jason: Ok so I know you don't like me that much

Conner: Yeah.

Jason: It was my bad, that kryptonite bullet probably hurt-

Kon: HUh- no I'm not mad at you for shooting me

Jason: What.

Kon: I'm mad bc you got dirt stains on my couch when you broke in :(

~

Tim: *scowls* I don't like you. at all.

Also Tim: *Obsessively checks Kon's entire year's worth of digital footprint* *hides evidence of Kon not being a regular person* *defends Stray from insults on the internet* *hacks into Gotham U's cameras bc he's 'just checking in'* *proceeds to triple seal the still-existing records of Kon's past and doesn't even tell Kon he knows about the pre-Elle Hades behavior*

Kon: I like you. you're nice. *thinks Tim is (pretty) neat*

Tim: *dies of embarrassment bc why tf did he say that TIM IS BI PANICKING*

Jason: fucking gay losers *goes to read his romance mystery novel that has doomed gays*

~ Jason and Tim arguing

Jason: Fuck you, you little fuck-

Tim: That's grammatically incorrect. For all the classical literature you read you sure-

Cass: *Watching them with a raised brow as she stretches for ballet because their body language says they're about to fight*

Cass: Jason. Put the gun away. *Frowns disapprovingly- they can throw hands outside of her practice room*

Jason: *Groans and puts it away, turning to leave*

Cass: Tim. I saw your staff. Turn the taser off.

Tim: *sighs but repockets it and goes back to doing WE work on his laptop*

~

Damian: I hate Drake.

Dick: but you guys get ice cream together after ditching us at Galas all the time?

Damian: We are... on amicable terms despite my distaste towards him.

Damian: He also can hold a decent conversation regarding the behaviors of cats *in Damian terms this means talking about cute cat shenanigans*

Damian: He is also good with Cats. Alfred is a stellar example.

Dick: Oh my god my little brothers are adorable *cries*

*somewhere else*

Tim: *suffering as he coughs- he patted an alley cat that Damian found and his spleenless ass got sick*

Kon: *frowns* Are you ok???

Tim: Yeah, but I might need to be hospitalized

Kon: What?! why

Tim: I don't have a spleen

Kon: *immediately understands bc of the info programmed into him* you don't have an immune system!? TIM THIS IS GOTHAM

Tim: *passes out randomly *

~ Thug 1: ??? why is it so bright rn it's cloudy

Thug 2: *turns around* FUCK ITS THE SIGNAL- AND THE STRAY

Duke: You again *Immediately makes so much light it's as blinding as being close to the sun*

Thug 2: *screaming in pain due to the permanent damage being done to his retinas*

Duke: *realizes someone else is on the job with him and panics to check on his partner (usually works w bats so he's concerned about using his powers despite Kon being a meta)* STRAY ARE YOU OKAY

Kon: *feeling refreshed from the false sunlight* yeah *thumbs up* I feel great wow

Duke: I keep forgetting you're the spawn of Superman, dude *relieved*

Thug 1&2: *blinded but able to hear* HES WHAT-

*Gotham thugs are never the same. What the fuck do you mean the former alley-scruffer-turned-arkham-breakout-fighter- slash-bat-associate is the SON of SUPERMAN the REALLY STRONG ALIEN HERO. They're supposed to fight him??? He can literally turn them into squash on the concrete that he used to wrap around them because OF COURSE if he wasnt already insane this motherfucker has telekinesis*

*But when one of them voices that he interrupts and goes "Well, actually, it's called tactile telekinesis where you-" he proceeds to explain all the things he could do with it, and their horror is growing because what does he mean by "peel your skin off and have it slide right back"- what the fuck- WHY THE FUCK HASNT BATMAN KICKED HIM OUT HES KILLING PEOPLE BY GIVING THEM HEART ATTACKS FROM RISING BLOOD PRESSURE.*

~

*mob boss using a MACHINE GUN on the bats (Robin and Red Robin let's say) while they're knocked out from the gas that spread*

mob boss: why the fuck are they bulletproof what the fuck

*mud monster appearing out of nowhere and covering the bats to take them away while not even dirtying them*

mob boss: *sees it as a demonic creature taking away its masters as he gets knocked on his ass by the concrete and then it wraps around to hold him in place until Batman comes*

mob boss: fucking Gotham is out to get me THE CITY AND THE PEOPLE I JUST GOT BEAT BY CONCRETE

*Batman comes, sees Stray sitting in a corner trying to do his calculus homework on his cellphone*

mob boss: BATMAN- WHOS CHILD WAS SACRIFICED TO SUMMON YOUR FAMILY YOU DEMONS- *gets knocked out by air (Kon)*

Batman: *dry and disappointed but slightly amused* you could have also stopped Red Robin and Robin from inhaling the gas.

Kon: *shrugging as he's working on hw* I was told to stay out because they needed to see who could brave the gas the longest. They were both knocked out at the same time.

[scary-grace]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Chapter 3

You don’t notice the envelope that’s been shoved under your front door until you trip on it, and even once you pick it up, you’re not sure it’s for you. The name scrawled on the front of it is almost illegible, but after studying it for a few seconds you’re able to determine that it does in fact say Skynet. Maybe it’s hate mail. Even if your public profile’s improved significantly since the incident with the train, someone could have mailed this last week and you’re just finding it now.

You were in the hospital for three days. Getting dragged by a train isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk off. If you’d had the boots from your costume, you would have been able to anchor yourself, and with your feet planted and a good grip on a magnetic field nearby, you’d have avoided getting pulled off your feet. But you didn’t have your boots, because Yue made you wear heels, and you fractured your femur when one of them got caught in the rails. You also dislocated your shoulder, bit a chunk out of the inside of your cheek, and picked up the road rash from hell on the entire anterior of your body. It’s the worst set of injuries you’ve gotten in your career, and there wasn’t a single villain involved.

It got you off the public’s shit list, though, and it taught you something important about your quirk. If a metal has a distinct profile, different from what’s around it, you can latch onto just that metal and avoid drawing in anything else. Bullet-train steel is a beast of its own, unlike everything else in the area, which allowed you to focus all your power on it without ripping downtown Tokyo apart. So you can use Magnetism on a larger scale, as long as you know exactly what you’re aiming for. Most of the time, you don’t, and most of the time, there are too many metals with similar properties for you to yank one towards you without pulling up everything else. But it’s good to know that there are some cases where it’s safe to let loose.

You employ your metal sense on the envelope you’re holding and find only inert compounds, no moving parts. Nothing dangerous in here. You open it, fumbling slightly, and pull out a 500-yen coin. There’s a note wrapped around it. The handwriting on the note is just as bad as the handwriting on the envelope. Worse, maybe, because so much of it is crossed out, but in between all the cross-outs you’re able to make out a pair of sentences. Nice job with the train. Buy yourself a flower or something.

Huh. Whoever sent it didn’t leave a name, or a return address, and the note is sort of abrupt – but it’s still a nice note. And a nice thing to do. Maybe you will buy yourself a flower or something. Or maybe you’ll save the coin, so there’s evidence of the first time somebody thanked you personally for something heroic you did. Or evidence of the first truly heroic thing you’ve done in your career. One of the two.

You had some time to think in the hospital, and you thought a lot of things over. Some thoughts are ones you’ve had for a while, like the thought that stopping petty criminals isn’t actually that heroic, especially when they’re stealing things like food, warm clothes in the winter, or water bottles in the summer. Some are thoughts that make you wonder if you got a concussion during the train incident – like the idea that the existence of hero as a profession creates a demand for villains, and an incentive to expand the definition of villain as much as possible. The people you’re expected to arrest for stealing food from a convenience store aren’t in the same category as one of the various yakuza groups. They’re not even close to the League of Villains.

Those are the kind of thoughts you should keep to yourself if you want to have friends. You sit down on your couch and log into the hero network, seeing that you’ve got a pileup of messages. A lot of them are from heroes congratulating you on the train rescue. When you look closer at them, about a third of them were pretty clearly prompted by their agencies, as evidenced by the request to stop by their offices “at your earliest convenience” to “discuss your future”. After the way everyone’s been treating you, it rings pretty hollow.

Some of the messages are about team-ups, or requests to join missions. Those are usually about taking down actual criminals, which you’re still interested in, and most of them are yellow-flagged – important, but not urgent. You wouldn’t be able to respond to urgent ones. Even though UA’s Recovery Girl made a special trip out to Tokyo to heal your leg, you’re still supposed to rest for at least three more days.

Social media next. You took it off private while you were in the hospital, then forgot about it, and now you’re looking at an influx of followers and a ton of private messages. You get into the messages and start deleting anything that looks like a pickup line, which clears things out a bit. There are sponsorship offers, too, although why anybody wants to sponsor a hero whose twin claims to fame are letting the League of Villains slip through her fingers and getting dragged by a train is absolutely beyond you. You leave the offers alone for now. Time to look at the actual people who messaged you.

One in particular catches your eye. The profile picture is a cloudburst and most of the page is aesthetic photos – usually of clouds, with a secondary theme of purple things. The message doesn’t match the content of the page at all. Which iron supplements would you recommend for someone with iron-deficiency anemia?

You message back. Hi. I’m not a doctor. It would probably be best to ask a doctor about this.

Medical care is not universally accessible. What is the best supplement to use?

That was a fast response, but they’re right, whoever they are – Japan might have universal healthcare, but there are still a lot of reasons why somebody might not feel comfortable going to a doctor. And you do have some familiarity with this stuff. Of the supplements, sublingual is best. The capsules or the pills can do stuff to your digestive system. You want something that dissolves.

In what dosage?

It depends on your height, weight, and the severity of your anemia, you answer, only to remember that this person probably isn’t running off to the lab for a blood panel. Just go by what’s on the bottle. But honestly, the best way to improve your iron is to eat more iron-rich foods. That’s how your body really wants to absorb it.

Which foods?

Whoever this is could just look it up, but you’re feeling benevolent right now. Shellfish, legumes, fish, quinoa, spinach, red meat, dark chocolate, tofu, broccoli, pumpkin seeds. Organ meat is good for that, too.

He is not going to eat any of that.

If you have the right recipe, basically all of it tastes good, you reply. You’re about to send this person a link to your favorite recipe site, but then something clicks in your head – something about who’d ask you these questions, who wouldn’t be able to go to a doctor and get bloodwork done, or iron infusions prescribed. He wouldn’t refer to himself in the third person, which means the person messaging you right now can only be – Kurogiri?

Thank you for your assistance, Kurogiri says, and blocks you. All you can do is stare down at your phone in horror.

Shigaraki still has his anemia, it sounds like. Kurogiri is trying to help him treat it, but it must not be going well. You know next to nothing about Shigaraki, but it’s hard to imagine him popping an iron supplement or sitting down to a healthy meal. You weren’t on any of the teams during the first Kamino incident, but you heard things about what Shigaraki’s room was like when they searched it, and it sounds like he eats – or ate – a lot of processed food. He’s probably deficient in everything else along with the iron. If you end up being the one who finally apprehends him, you’ll probably swing by an urgent care on the way to the nearest police station so you can quantify just how not-okay he is.

You’re not sure why it bothers you. Except that Shigaraki’s supposed to be All For One’s heir, and All For One was funding the League, and apparently still had enough money left over to put himself in a tailored, custom-made suit for his showdown with All Might. All For One was loaded. If he had all that money, why didn’t he spend some of it on taking care of his successor? It’s not really a question you’re equipped to answer. You’re not a supervillain or a criminal mastermind. You’re not even investigating the League yourself. You’re just some hero who was there when they attacked. You don’t need to think about him any more than that.

It. You don’t need to think about it. The League, the fight at Kamino, anything. Sure, asking Shigaraki about his symptoms broke his focus so badly that you’d have had him dead to rights if Kurogiri hadn’t shown up, and sure, Kurogiri was messaging you on Instagram thirty seconds ago, but this has nothing to do with you.

You set your phone aside and roll the 500-yen coin between your fingers, first palm-side, then knuckle-side, then alternating, in an exercise you’ve been practicing since you were little to improve your control over your quirk. Maybe you’ll keep the coin. You can afford to buy your own flowers, but this is something you want to hang onto.

Life goes back to normal at shocking speed as soon as you’ve recovered from your injuries. Saving approximately three hundred people and getting dragged behind a train in the process is apparently enough to cancel out letting the League of Villains escape, and you’re back to being an approximate zero in the public consciousness. Which is how you like it. Even when you were at UA, you were never very interested in the spotlight – not because you don’t need the money you’d get from sponsorships, endorsements, and high-profile missions, but because your quirk was too much to handle, and the bigger the spotlight was, the more likely it was to catch you in a fatal mistake.

You’re out of the spotlight, but you’re a little busier than usual. When you went to work with Eraserhead’s class again, they had questions about how you stopped the train, and the girl with the Creation quirk suggested memorizing the profile of specific alloys, the ones commonly used in cars, buses, and building supports. That way you could focus your power on only objects with the specific profile rather than exerting a general pull and destroying whole city blocks. You decided it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot, and after a few days of memorizing the metallic profiles of the twenty most common car makes and models in Japan, you averted a car accident by magnetizing one of the two out-of-control vehicles and hoisting it – it, and only it – out of the way.

You can’t memorize every alloy on the planet, some of the alloys show up in almost everything, and the risk of tipping too many gravitational fields and causing a chain reaction is just as present as ever. But you’re a little more useful now. A little better at saving people. You’ve been wondering lately if it might not be a good idea to pivot to rescue heroics. Rescue heroics don’t have the same kind of ethical issues as combat heroics do.

But you can’t step out of combat heroics entirely. You’ve had a watch on a Shie Hassaikai safehouse in your city for a while, and you got a ping from the Nighteye agency summoning you to a strategy meeting about it sometime next week. In the meantime, you’re still getting into it with muggers, carjackers, and assorted creeps on a nightly basis. You’re busy. Tired when you wake up, tired when you get home. Most nights you’re too tired to cook.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you’re not allowed to fall asleep on the couch. You bought groceries on your day off last week in a fit of truly absurd optimism, and if you don’t use them tonight, they’ll go bad. You get home from patrol, shower off cold to wake yourself up, and get into the kitchen. Your rice cooker is waiting for you. You thank your lucky stars that you remembered to wash it out after your last kitchen escapade and get it started again.

You aren’t a good cook, but you aren’t a bad one, either. Maybe it’s more accurate to say that you’re not a pretty cook. Most meals you make are a bunch of different components piled up on a bowl or rice or noodles or dumped into a broth – not visually appealing, but still pretty tasty. Back when you were rooming with Yue and Kagura and Mayuko, Yue used to put a blindfold on so she wouldn’t see what the food you made looked like. Then again, she only ever ate seconds when it was your turn to cook.

That’s the other problem with your cooking – there are always seconds, and thirds, and sometimes fourths, because you always buy more than you can eat in one sitting, and you get bored with leftovers really fast. The scope of the problem begins to occur to you as you dice garlic and ginger and scrape them into a saucepan filled with sizzling cooking oil. You’ll eat this tonight, sure. Definitely tomorrow, but by the next day, you’ll be so sick of beef and assorted vegetables over rice that you’d almost rather run into the League of Villains a second time than have to eat it again. At least if you have to go into hiding from a vengeful public, no one will question why you didn’t eat your leftovers.

Once the aromatics start to brown and the smell infuses your apartment, the mass quantities of food you’re pawing through start to look a little less intimidating. You put on some music – quietly, since it’s past midnight and you’ve got neighbors, humming along to some English-language pop song from a decade and a half ago. The girl who babysat you back home always played it, the lyrics so simple that even four-year-old you could follow along. I really, really, really, really, really, really like you! And I want you – do you want me – do you want me too?

Between the sizzling of the flank steak and vegetables you’re currently sauteing, the sound of the music, and the rush of the wind whipping through the alley outside, you could almost write off the sound on the fire escape. It could be squirrels, or raccoons, or even a particularly chunky pigeon. It could just be the wind. But you reach for your metal-sense to check, just in case, and what you find sends a chill straight down your spine. You know that iron concentration. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

This time, you react the right way. The fire escape is perfect for it. You bend the rails apart with a flick of your fingers, then wrap them tightly around the figure perched on the landing, pulling him down to seated. One around his waist, two immobilizing each arm, three spreading and pinning his fingers apart, so there’s no chance of all five making contact with anything at once. And one more railing around his throat, just to be extra safe.

You don’t step away from the stove until you know he’s secure. Your heart is racing as you turn off the music and make your way through your apartment to the window. You need four fingers on your right hand to manage the restraints, and you flip the latch on the window with your thumb and use your quirk to lever it open. This isn’t like last time. You’ve got the undisputed upper hand. So why do you feel so tense?

The tension comes through in your voice when you speak. “What are you doing here?”

Shigaraki Tomura looks up at you from where he’s ensnared by the railings you bent to your will. He’s not at ease like this. You can feel him straining to bring his fingers together, to break out of your grip, but he still manages the ghost of a cocky smirk. “Skynet,” he says. “Did you miss me?”

Shigaraki was expecting you to be surprised to see him, but he wasn’t expecting you to react quite this fast. Or to immobilize him this quickly. He squirms slightly, testing the restraints, only for two more to come up, wrapping around his thighs and welding him to the platform. You got him from inside your apartment, before he even realized you knew he was there. You’re good. Shigaraki hardens his resolve. If you’re this good, he absolutely needs you for the League.

“Did I miss you?” you repeat, incredulous. “Answer my question, Shigaraki. What are you doing here?”

Before Shigaraki can answer, you ask another question. “How do you know where I live?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Shigaraki says. “I came to see if you bought yourself a flower like I said to.”

Your jaw drops. “That was you?”

“Who else?” Shigaraki can’t figure out why you looked so shocked. You’re in love with him. You should have guessed it was him, wanted it to be him. Is there somebody else you wanted it to be from? “Who did you think it was?”

“You can’t be here,” you say instead of answering. “You need to leave.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Shigaraki challenges. “You’re the one who won’t let me go.”

Your grip on him doesn’t loosen, and he still can’t bring his fingers together. Shigaraki’s stuck. If you call the cops to come get him, he can’t get away. Would you really call the cops on him? There’s no way. You love him. Right?

You still aren’t saying anything, but you also aren’t letting him go. Shigaraki tries to bring the subject back around to you liking him. “Did you buy a flower or not?”

“Why did you leave me that note?”

“I asked first.”

“Sure, I bought a flower.” You roll your eyes, which pisses Shigaraki off. He gave you something when he didn’t have to. What happened to gratitude? “Why did you leave me that note? Were you messing with me or something?”

“Messing with you?” Is that what you thought? Shigaraki wouldn’t be grateful, either. “I wasn’t messing with you. I saw the train thing, so I’m interested. I was just letting you know.”

He was expecting the news that he’s interested in you to land a little better. Then again, everything that’s happened today has proved that he’s a shitty judge of character, so maybe he’s wrong. He’s wrong, and the rest of the League was fucking with him, and because Shigaraki was stupid enough to believe them he’s now landed squarely in the hands of a hero who has every reason to think that turning him in will redeem her. He practically gift-wrapped himself.

Shigaraki’s throat tightens with rage, or something else. His skin crawls and his eyes burn. He can’t rub or scratch it away, because you’ve got him completely pinned. This is awful. It’s –

A timer goes off somewhere in your apartment, and you look away. Shigaraki seizes the opportunity to try to struggle free, but you’re already shaking your head. “Did you forget I’m the Capture Hero?” you ask. “If I can’t hang onto you and take a pan off the stove at the same time, I should hand in my license right now.”

You’re cooking something. The smell of it is drifting through the open window, and Shigaraki’s stupid mouth starts to water. He swallows. “You’re making dinner at midnight?”

You shrug. “That’s when I got home.”

“Kurogiri’s been cooking.” Trying to cook, and it’s weird that he’s trying. He used to leave Shigaraki alone about what he ate, but lately he’s been making Shigaraki eat things that have iron on them, or take iron pills, or dissolve iron tablets under his tongue. It’s a pain in the ass. “The stuff he makes doesn’t smell like that.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Like that?”

Maybe once you’re in the League, you can give Kurogiri lessons. Shigaraki had better start hinting about that now. “Good.”

You don’t say anything. Shigaraki’s stomach growls, so loudly that people on the moon can probably hear it, and his face heats up with embarrassment. But your expression is shifting, almost the same way it shifted in the square at Kamino. Seeing it gives Shigaraki a weird sense of relief. He wasn’t imagining it. The League wasn’t screwing with him. You do care. He can’t figure out why it took his stomach making stupid sounds to get it out of you.

“Are you hungry?” you ask.

Your voice sounds the same as it did when you asked if he was okay. This time Shigaraki tells the truth. “Yes.”

You glance back into your apartment, then look at him – then back to your apartment, then to him. “I must be out of my mind,” you mumble, and then you square your shoulders and make eye contact. “You’re hungry, and I made too much food. If you want, you can come inside.”

“What?” Shigaraki manages. You can’t be serious – but the metal railings are unwrapping from around his throat, his waist, his arms, until he’s anchored at the thighs and wrists and nowhere else. “You’re going to let me leave if I say no?”

“No one knows you’re here except me,” you say. “If you leave now, it’ll be like it never happened.”

Shigaraki should take you up on it, five seconds ago. You could change your mind at any moment, and now he knows he has to be a lot more careful the next time he tries to recruit you – keep a greater distance, stay disguised at first, not get complacent listening to you sing some song in English about how you really, really, really, really, really, really like someone. This was today’s second colossal fuckup, and unlike the first one, it’s recoverable. Shigaraki needs to leave. Now.

Instead – “I could eat,” he says, and you let him go.

Or you sort of let him go. He’s not attached to the fire escape anymore, but there are thin metal bands around his wrists and ankles. He shakes one of them at you. “What’s this?”

“Insurance policy,” you say. Huh. Shigaraki decides it’s fair, and probably a good sign as far as your usefulness to the League. After what happened today, it’s pretty clear that the League could use some members who are a little less trusting. You step back from the window, leaving space for Shigaraki to step through. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

Shigaraki smacks his head on the window frame, and it’s your fault. Your fault, because you’re holding out your hand for him to take, so you can help him through, and it’s such a weird thing to do that he can’t focus. You know how his quirk works. Why would you give him a chance to touch you? He avoids your outstretched hand, loses his balance, smacks his head on the other side of the window this time, and you catch his elbow to steady him. You’re touching him. Nobody touches Shigaraki on purpose. Nobody who’s not trying to hurt him.

You act like it’s nothing, and you let him go, shutting the window behind him with a wave of your hand. Then you turn away. “Find somewhere to sit. The food’s almost done.”

It smells even better inside your apartment than it did on the fire escape. Shigaraki wants to pay attention to that, but you just turned your back on him. “You sure you trust me this much?”

“I don’t need to look at you to know what you’re doing. My metal sense takes care of that.” You’re stirring something in a pan on the stove now. “I wouldn’t say I love my odds, but I’m okay with them. Do you want water to drink or something?”

“Uh, okay.” Shigaraki watches as you leave whatever’s on the stove to open a cabinet and retrieve a glass, which you fill from a pitcher in the fridge. You hand it to him and go back to the stove, and Shigaraki stares at it stupidly. Better that he stares at it than at you.

You aren’t doing what he expected you to do. Now that Shigaraki thinks about it, he’s got no idea what he was expecting you to do. Scream? Faint? Be ecstatic to see him? Drag him into your apartment and offer yourself to him – not just your allegiance to the League, but all of you, all for him? Shigaraki’s face heats up at the thought. You wouldn’t do that. You don’t even post thirst-traps on Instagram. There’s no way you’d get physical with him on your second meeting. Which is good. Because Shigaraki’s not exactly experienced in that department, and it’s possible that he’s never been less in the mood.

Shigaraki is used to having shitty days. He’s had a lot of shitty days in the last year. He’s gotten shot, stabbed, punched, punched but with explosions added in, and fucked things up so badly that Sensei had to get involved, only for Sensei get captured by the heroes. But today is abnormally, astronomically shitty – shitty enough to top all the others combined. This is the first shitty day in Shigaraki’s adult life where someone he cares about has died. And the first time it’s been his fault.

Maybe not totally his fault. There’s blame to go around. But Shigaraki’s the leader, so it’s on him. He should have been more suspicious of Overhaul from the start, regardless of what Twice said. He should have ended the meeting immediately when he realized Overhaul’s true intentions, and he should have had Kurogiri on standby, so the League could leave if Overhaul refused to. Failing all that, he should have found a way to stop Magne and Compress from engaging Overhaul – something he could have planned for, if he’d been smart enough to be suspicious. Instead he was stupid, and now Magne’s dead.

And Shigaraki couldn’t even take revenge on Overhaul. Assessing the scene, realizing they were outmatched, and calling a pause was probably the smartest thing Shigaraki did all day.

They couldn’t keep using that hideout. No one wanted to stay after what happened, and there was a chance Overhaul had tipped off the police to where they were. Shigaraki ordered the League to scatter for twenty-four hours and reunite at a new hideout, which Kurogiri is responsible for finding. Shigaraki doesn’t know where everyone else went. But he didn’t think twice before coming here, to your city. To your neighborhood. To you.

“Shigaraki.” You say his name as you’re setting two rice bowls in front of two chairs at a tiny kitchen table. “Do you want to sit down?”

Right. He’s standing here, staring at a glass of water, like an idiot. Shigaraki sits down in front of one bowl and you sit at the other. “What’s in here?”

“Flank steak, spinach, broccoli, mushrooms, carrots, garlic, ginger, green onions –” You trail off to eat some of it. “And rice underneath. I’m guessing Kurogiri forgot some of that stuff.”

“The last three things.” Shigaraki picks up his chopsticks, lifts out a piece of broccoli, and inspects it. It doesn’t look quite as disgusting as whatever Kurogiri made. He sticks it in his mouth, burns his tongue, realizes that it doesn’t actually taste bad, and starts talking in a hurry. “You can’t tell anyone about this. If they find out –”

“That you ate a vegetable?” You look skeptical. Maybe because Shigaraki’s talking with his mouth full. “There are lots of reasons I can’t tell anybody about this. I might as well add that to the list.”

Shigaraki makes sure to finish chewing before he tries to say anything else, then decides against saying anything at all in favor of trying to figure out which of the vegetables tastes the worst. You don’t ask him any questions. You’re just eating dinner, like it’s a normal night, like it doesn’t matter that Shigaraki’s here at all.

Maybe you’re playing it cool. “So,” Shigaraki starts, after a sip of water to wash the taste of carrots out of his mouth, “you must not think much of the League of Villains, if you used more of your quirk on a train than on us.”

You used more of your quirk pinning Shigaraki to the fire escape than you did during the second Kamino incident, but Shigaraki decides not to point that out. You’re making a face. “They were totally different situations. If I’d used that kind of power in our fight, I’d have taken down all the buildings your boss and All Might didn’t get to during the first battle.”

“So what? Capturing us wasn’t worth it?” Shigaraki can tell by your expression that this is the wrong way to go. He stuffs a wad of spinach into his mouth to give himself some time to think, then drinks some water to give a little more. “You said it was different with the train. Why?”

“It was on an elevated track.”

“Huh?”

“The train was on an elevated track.” You’re picking at your food. “The problem with my quirk isn’t whether I can grab something and pull it towards me, the problem is what happens to everything in between. If the train had been street level or underground, the magnetic field I was altering would have torn up everything with a similar metallic signature to the train. But the train was on an elevated track. There was nothing around it with a matching signature, so I could let loose.”

It sounds like there’s not a limit to your quirk. You held back at Kamino because you didn’t want to make a mess. “How hard was it to stop the train?”

“Harder once I fell over.”

You’re avoiding Shigaraki’s eyes, and Shigaraki adjusts your answer to reflect reality. “It wasn’t hard at all,” he says. You keep averting your eyes. There’s color coming up in your face. “Damn.”

You eat a few more bites, and so does Shigaraki. The food is good, or at least good enough to highlight how bad Kurogiri’s cooking is. If Shigaraki wasn’t already sure he needed you for the League, he’d be convinced now – between your quirk and the fact that you can make the vegetables he’s supposed to eat taste like anything other than garbage, he’s pretty sure you’ll be essential. “Is that why you came here?” you ask, and Shigaraki looks up. “To talk about my quirk?”

“What else is there to talk about?” What do people talk about on dinner dates, anyway? “How our days were? Like I’d tell you that.”

“You could,” you say. “There’s nobody I could tell about it.”

“Bullshit. You’re a hero –”

“And if I went to the cops and spilled all your secrets, their next question would be where I got the information,” you say. “I can’t exactly say ‘I got it from Shigaraki Tomura, when he came over for dinner last night.’ So if you want to talk about how your day went, you can.”

Shigaraki’s chest goes tight. Maybe he swallowed something wrong. “You first,” he says. “What did you do today? Let me guess – dispensing peace and justice with government-sponsored violence.”

You laugh. “Today I fixed some girl’s bike so she could get to work on time. Then I got called out to a primary school to help some kid who got his head stuck in the rails on a staircase. After that I caught some guy spray-painting ‘bitch’ on his ex-wife’s car. That would have been a nuisance crime, except he’d been stalking her, too.”

Shigaraki knew you were small-time, but this is ridiculous. “Don’t you get bored?”

“There was a car accident, too,” you say. “The fire department was late, so I helped pry open the car so the passengers could get out. And then I helped clear wreckage from somebody else’s villain fight downtown until my shift ended.”

Five incidents, one actual interaction with a criminal. “That’s not going to get you back in the headlines.”

“Believe me, I’d love to stay out of them,” you say. Shigaraki remembers what Spinner said about how you’re a hero Stain would approve of. It sounds like he’s right. “Today was a decent day. How was yours?”

Shigaraki’s throat closes. He’s still hungry – really hungry – but if he tried to swallow something right now, he’s pretty sure he’d choke on it. The anger builds inside him, seeking any target, and you’re the closest. “Don’t ask me that. You don’t give a shit about me.”

“Hey –”

“You call someone a villain and you can write them off for good. It doesn’t matter what happens to villains. Villains aren’t people to you.” Shigaraki can’t believe you’re trying to argue with him. “Sure, I could tell you how my day was. If I wanted to watch you pretend to care that one of my friends died.”

Your eyes widen. “Someone died?”

Shigaraki wasn’t going to tell you anything, and then he told you, right in the middle of telling you all the reasons why he wasn’t going to tell you. This is a fucking nightmare. “Save it for someone who believes your stupid act. I’m out of here.”

“My stupid act, huh?” Your voice is sharp. “Let me tell you something about what happened at Kamino, Shigaraki. I should have captured you then. I had everything I needed to take you down. And then I got so distracted when I realized you were sick that I let all four of you escape. I screwed myself pretty solidly for somebody who doesn’t care, don’t you think?”

You did, sort of. Shigaraki knows that if you hadn’t stopped the train, the public would still hate you. A society as corrupt as this one doesn’t forgive mistakes like the one you made. Like the one you’re making right now, if anybody ever finds out you let him in. “You’re still sick,” you continue. “I can feel it. And it doesn’t take a genius to see that something bad happened. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I don’t think you came here just to see if I bought a flower.”

You don’t say why you think Shigaraki came here. With Shigaraki’s luck, you’d guess right, and the sheer humiliation of being called out on it would probably kill him. “You said you bought one. Where is it?”

“Right there.”

Right there, as in dead center on the table, right in the middle of Shigaraki’s eyeline. And here he was thinking it couldn’t get worse. “I think you probably meant a cut flower, but I wanted this one,” you say. “It’s alive, so it should keep blooming as long as I don’t kill it through benign neglect.”

Shigaraki’s throat won’t relax. He coughs, trying to clear it. “Kill a lot of plants, do you?”

“Only by accident,” you say. “It probably doesn’t make a difference to the plant, but under human law, intention matters.”

“What?”

“Crime is bad,” you say. No shit. Shigaraki snorts. “But the degree of badness depends on the intention. If I lost control of my quirk and hurt someone, I’d be in trouble. But I’d be in a lot more trouble if I hurt them deliberately.”

Shigaraki’s stomach ties itself in a knot. “For serious crimes, the reason why a person did something matters, too,” you continue. “If I was a civilian and someone attacked me, I might hurt them with my quirk to protect myself. But if I hurt that person the same way in an argument, that would be different. And sometimes premeditation can be a mitigating factor – like, a person being stalked and threatened might feel so backed into a corner that killing the stalker feels like the only option. They’d have to plan that ahead of time, probably. But it’s not something they’d have done if they hadn’t been pushed to the limit first.”

The knot in Shigaraki’s stomach is pulling his entire body with it – intestines, heart, lungs. He stands up so fast he knocks his chair over. “Bathroom.”

“Down the hall. Door on the right,” you say. “Are you –”

Shigaraki’s in the bathroom with the door locked before you can finish asking the question. He hunches over the sink, struggling to breathe without gagging. Why did you tell him that? All that stuff about intention and premeditation and the reasons mattering – why would you think he needed to hear it? Shigaraki’s pretty sure you don’t monologue about the legal system to your hero friends, but you weren’t trying to convince him that the system’s good, or right. You were just telling him. Almost like you know.

Like you know what? That question gives Shigaraki pause, and in the pause, he forces himself to straighten up and take a look around. Your bathroom is small, like everything else in y our apartment. There’s not a lot of stuff lying around on the counter. Or a lot of stuff under the sink, when he looks down there. The cabinet behind the mirror has more in it, but Shigaraki’s not sure what to make of what he’s looking at. Girl stuff, probably. Does sunscreen count as girl stuff? There’s makeup, or what Shigaraki thinks is makeup, but not much of it has been used. Most of it is still in its packaging. There’s also a pile of narrow elastic bands – black, made of fabric, not rubber. Hair ties. Shigaraki picks one up and slides it down over his wrist.

He’s not sure why he did that, but he feels a little better, and he takes a few more deep breaths. You weren’t trying to do something to him. You were just talking, because people talk when they go out to dinner together. There’s nothing weird happening. You don’t know anything. You’re in love with him. It’s fine.

Shigaraki leaves the bathroom and makes his way down the hall, stopping in a few places to look at the pictures you have hanging up. There’s one where you’re hugging a big golden dog, looking stupid-happy and a lot younger than you are now. Another one from when you were a student at UA, in a school uniform, standing with three other girls. And then there’s one that makes Shigaraki feel sick and angry all over again – you and some guy. He’s got his arm around your shoulders.

“That’s my brother.”

Shigaraki jumps, swears. You snuck up on him. “He doesn’t live in Japan,” you continue. “So if you were planning to use him to get back at me, find something else.”

“I’ll get back at you when you do something to me,” Shigaraki says. “Not before.”

You study him, head tilted to one side. “Are you okay?” you ask. “You looked like you were going to be sick.”

“I want to finish the food,” Shigaraki says. He has a bad feeling about his ability to lie to you right now. Lying is a bad policy with somebody he’s trying to recruit. The fucking recruitment thing. How did he forget about that? “Did you get rid of it?”

“No,” you say, puzzled. “It’s probably gotten cold, though. I’ll heat it up again.”

Shigaraki leans against the kitchen counter while you mess with the microwave, and decides to test your supposed metal sense while he’s waiting. He reaches out, like he’s going to grab your shoulder, and his arm stalls in midair, held back by the metal shackle around his wrist. Pulling back doesn’t make a difference, and it fits too closely to pull his hand free. Shigaraki tries to bring up his other hand and Decay the shackle, but that hand freezes in place, too. You didn’t even turn around. “Can I help you?”

“Just testing you,” Shigaraki says. “You really are good. Want to let me go?”

You shrug. “You might not believe me, but I’m sorry about your friend,” you say. “Whichever of your friends it was. I wish it hadn’t happened. To them or to you.”

Shigaraki doesn’t sleep much. He’s pretty sure what happened to Magne and Compress will be making an appearance in his nightmares. It’ll fit in nicely with the nightmares he already has, which also include a lot of blood and dismembered bodies. “Heroes like it when villains kill villains, right? Like taking out the trash.”

“You must spend a lot of time arguing with the imaginary hero in your head.” The microwave beeps, and you lift the bowls out without touching them. “You’re talking to me. Listen to what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying I’m sorry about your friend.” You turn to face Shigaraki, arms crossed over your chest, while the bowls drift back to the table and settle on opposite sides. “I wish it hadn’t happened. Is there anything I can do?”

“Let me out.” Shigaraki pulls at the shackles again, and you release your hold on them. “And if you get a chance, put Overhaul in the fucking ground.”

“Overhaul,” you repeat. “Like, Hassaikai Overhaul? He did it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You need to stay away from him,” you say flatly. “From all of them. It’s not safe.”

“I know it’s not fucking safe. They just killed my friend. Do you think I’m going to –” Shigaraki breaks off as a thought crosses his mind. “What do you mean, it’s not safe?”

“It’s not safe,” you say again. You step around Shigaraki, and he follows you to the table. “I can’t tell you why. But it’s not a good idea to be anywhere near Overhaul or his organization right now.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say. You pick up your chopsticks. “Are you going to eat?”

The food smells good heated up again. Shigaraki takes a few bites and thinks over what you said. You know something about the Shie Hassaikai, and whatever it is, it’s enough to make you warn Shigaraki away from them. You love him, so some of it is probably that you don’t want him going back near somebody who killed his friend. But it sounds like more than that. You can’t tell him why. What’s something a hero can’t tell a villain?

What the other heroes are up to. Shigaraki feels a grin spreading across his face. “The heroes are going after the Hassaikai.” Across the table, you cringe. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No!”

You’re not a good liar, at least not to Shigaraki. Good to know. Shigaraki eats fast, his mind working faster. Overhaul thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, heroes and villains both. Which will be more humiliating – getting his shit rocked by another villain, or being crushed by a gang of heroes? It’s the last one for sure. Shigaraki doesn’t have to do the heavy lifting of destroying Overhaul. All he has to do is pretend to help, stay out of the way, and yank the illusion of his support when Overhaul needs it most. To betray Overhaul’s trust. Just like Overhaul did to him.

Easy enough. And Shigaraki wouldn’t have known about it if you hadn’t told him.

Shigaraki has a hard time believing that he ever felt weird about you being in love with him. You didn’t hand him over to the cops. You let him in. You made food for him and tried to make him feel better and actually succeeded, at least a little, when you gave him a clue about how to crush Overhaul. As far as Shigaraki can see, there’s not a single downside to having a hero as a girlfriend.

[queenjunothegreat]

JASON Realizes He's Got a Problem

Heeeello everyone! I've got a little tiny thing for you all of Jason realizing he's got a massive crush on Leo post Heroes of Juno. Technically, you don't have to have read HoJ for this to make sense, you just have to live in a world where Piper and Jason never dated. Also! I haven't posted this to Ao3 yet, so you all are getting special privileges. >;3c Have fun!

Jason liked Bunker Nine. It was noisy and crowded and just so lived in in a way that Jason couldn’t quite describe. Part of him thought he would hate it, seeing as it was loud and claustrophobic and messy, but he found himself admiring those very traits. He liked being in the Bunker because he felt like he could do anything, be anyone. The Bunker didn’t hold him to any expectation, it just welcomed him with wide open arms and tucked him in close to its chest so that he could feel the very heartbeat of the place thrumming warm and fast under his cheek. He sighed deeply and burrowed his face down into his arms with a contented smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t listening to me.”

Jason half lifted his head and blinked until the blurriness of his vision faded a little bit. His eyes crossed and the image of Leo came into focus, his chin resting on his palm and his bushy eyebrows furrowed up in a pout like a pair of affectionate caterpillars. Jason blinked again. “Huh?”

Leo sighed dramatically. “I have said, like, three jokes, and you haven’t laughed at any of them.”

Jason felt his lips curl up a little bit and he squished his cheek back into his folded arms. “Were they funny jokes?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Leo informed him. “Your only job is to laugh at them anyway and make me feel good about myself.”

“I thought my job was to ‘stand there and pick up heavy stuff when I tell you to.’”

“Do you see any heavy stuff for you to pick up?”

Jason didn’t bother to lift his head, but he pointedly looked around at all of the machinery and equipment that surrounded them. “Do you want me to answer that?”

Leo’s pout from before deepened until his face caterpillars almost kissed. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I’m still in the planning stages for this boat, so there’s nothing for you to carry.”

Jason snorted and hid his face again. “Okay, sorry I was slacking, in that case. Ha ha, Leo, you’re so funny.”

Jason felt something bounce off his head, and he got the feeling Leo was throwing eraser bits at him. “You are such a dick. You need to quit hanging out with Piper.” Jason just hummed in affirmation and Leo went silent. They stayed like that for a moment before Leo called out softly, “Jace?”

Jason hummed again to show he was listening but didn’t look up until he felt Leo poking him. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head. Leo was right in front of him, their faces so close that their noses nearly brushed. Leo’s features were all puckered up and his lips were turned down in a tight frown, which made Jason frown right back at him. “Yeah, Leo?”

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked. When Jason just blinked at him, he cut his eyes to the side and shrank back a little self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s probably none of my business, I just thought you–”

“I don’t mind you asking,” Jason interrupted. “I’m just… confused about why you would, I guess? There’s really, really nothing wrong. Honest. What made you think there was?”

“It’s nothing; just a feeling. Forget about it,” Leo hedged, still refusing to look Jason in the eye. They were silent just long enough for Leo to realize Jason was definitely not going to forget about it, and he huffed. “You just– You’ve been, I dunno, distracted. Like, the past week every other time I’ve talked to you, you’ve just been zoned out staring at me. Last time someone was acting all weird, it turned out Piper was having prophetic dreams about her dad being kidnapped by a giant, so I figured I should ask.”

Jason’s frown deepened. He kinda knew what Leo was talking about, but he hadn’t been zoning out. He was distracted, though. Every time Leo spoke, Jason gave him his undivided attention, but that attention wasn’t always on what Leo was saying. Instead, Jason found himself fixated on the little things like the way Leo’s nose scrunched up when he smiled just right, or how his curls bounced around his head like soft puffy clouds and captured the sunlight like a halo, or the way his crooked teeth flashed with every word he spoke, or the shape of the grease stain smeared over his chin, or–

He shook his head and sat up, realizing he’d been doing it again. “Sorry, man. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Leo looked startled. “Wait, that’s it? Why didn’t you say so? I would have let you nap, if you wanted. You don’t have to hang out with me, you know.”

Jason shrugged noncommittally. “I wanted to, though. I’d way rather hang out with you than nap.”

Leo ducked his head, his cheeks a little darker than before. “Oh. Okay, then.” 

Neither of them said anything else, so Jason hunched back over the table and let his eyes slide shut, content to just bask in Leo’s warm presence while he rested. Leo fiddled with whatever it was he was working on for a while before he suddenly slammed his hands on the table and stood, making Jason snap to attention. “Alright! That’s it!”

 “What’s it?” Jason asked. 

“We’re leaving,” Leo said decisively. 

“What? Why? I thought you were in the middle of something.”

Leo shrugged casually. “I’ll still be in the middle of it when I get back. It’ll be fine.” Jason’s frown just hardened, so Leo grinned. “C’mon, big guy. We can go to the strawberry fields.”

Jason felt his entire being perk up at the idea, but then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You don’t even like the strawberry fields. Why do you wanna go there?”

“I like the strawberry fields just fine when I don’t have to work in them,” Leo argued. Jason continued to stare until Leo deflated a bit. “Okay, fine. Look, it’s obvious that you need a nap, and I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you fuck up your back when there’s a perfectly nice sunbeam for you to curl up in somewhere out there. That’s just messed up, dude. C’mon. Come to the strawberry fields with me. It’ll be nice.”

Jason gaped at Leo for a moment. “But-But your boat.”

“Not to be embarrassing, but I do actually care about you more than a boat. You know that, right?”

Jason felt his cheeks go scarlet and he stared down at his fists clenched on the table and bit back a smile. “I– Yeah. Okay, then. Strawberry fields. If you want.”

Leo twisted around and ducked his head until Jason could see the wide, deliberately goofy grin he wore. “I very much do want. Let’s go, Jace.”

Jason’s face went even warmer and his heart thumped high in the back of his throat. He was suddenly very, very glad that he’d been given a second chance after his run-in with Juno and her true form. If he hadn’t, he’d never have gotten to see the way Leo’s eyes shone bright with warm affection and amusement when he looked at him. He’d never have gotten the opportunity to see that smile so close up. He’d never have realized just how much he wanted to cup those smudgy cheeks up in his palms and press a barrage of kisses on every inch of that wonderful face.

Oh, Jason thought to himself as his brain finally caught up to his feelings. He blinked at Leo in shock for a moment, but his desires didn’t even begin to fade. The more he thought about it, the more familiar those desires felt. They weren’t new, which meant that somewhere along the line, he’d managed to trip and fall in love with his best friend, and now he was stuck laying face down in the dirt with this realization. 

Well, fuck.