#just presents himself as this cold and clean genius badass

[citrine-elephant]

what if zane just had implants in his brain to make him think faster (on account of how fast he can move and process the battlefield)

but it was just that meme of "i'm stupid, FASTER"

[teen-titans-imagines]

The Batboys As Dads [Headcanons]

Since me and @loudmouthwally have been screaming about dad! Dick and dami and such, I decided to write headcanons after she suggested it to me. As always: reader insert 😎

Dick Grayson

He honestly wasn't sure on being a dad

But when he laid his eyes on you, his daughter/son, he was absolutely ready to fight everyone who had any second thoughts about you.

Dick Grayson was ready to lay down everything for you. Even leave the mantle of Nightwing to someone else, because jesus christ, you were so important to him. (And still are)

Dick Grayson is a playful man, and if you think he wouldn't hit himself on the head with a skillet to make you laugh, you are very, v e r y mistaken.

As you grow up, there is one thing you learn about Dick Grayson.

Dick is a dad joke within himself.

Dad jokes for d a y s.

There is no escaping them.

"I had a scarecrow friend try out for stand up comedy, but the audience thought he was too corny."

"I'm calling the police on you for harassment."

Despite Dick being a silly dad, he is also very protective.

No boys/girls until you are dead.

Actually, no wait, nope, not even in the afterlife.

He will stalk you while on your dates, being as obvious yet hard to spot as possible.

Dick is the waiter, the random guy you bump into on the street, the carnival's janitor.

He's fucking everywhere, man, don't even try to kiss your date because Daddy Dearest will know. In a heartbeat.

#GroundedForKissingMyBoyfriendAfterFindingOutMyDadWasSpyingOnUsAftetHeFELLFROMTHEDAMNTREESCREAMINGBLOODYMURDER #IWANNANEWDAD #JASONBEMYNEWDAD

Despite all the crap he puts you through, Dick loves you very much and just wants the best for you, and that includes a happy life and childhood. He knows that you can lose a lot in a blink of an eye, and he wants you to be happy.

Yet, while he holds a superhero job, it can be pretty straining on your relationship as father and daughter/son.

Just know Dick loves you very much, even if he is a pain in the ass crack.

Jason Todd

If there is one thing Jason Todd does not know how to do, it is Parenting 101.

Please send help. He has no idea how to even wrap a diaper on a child, let alone r a i s e one.

Jason had to have Dick help him out a lot little.

However, after a while, Jason fell into a good routine after doing a lot of research and hands-on learning.

He totally owns one of those 'Parenting for Dummies' books but will completely deny any kind of knowledge about it should anybody find it (demon spawn from hell aka damian fucking wayne)

Spending time with you, Red Hood later. ALWAYS.

He honestly adores you.

You are his everything and if there's one thing Jason never thought he would have wanted until now, it is definitely you.

Instantaneous Death to anybody who even mentions your existence.

Jason Todd Will Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

He actually snapped at a woman who said she could just 'eat you up'

"Yeah, well, we don't believe in cannibalism, so."

Jason definitely sings you to sleep, and is proud, even touched, that you will raise hell if he fails to sing you to sleep right on schedule.

As you grow and get into school, Jason is quick to teach you self defense.

And taught you that all boys had a contagious virus and to punch any that tried to kiss you or hold your hand. (Female)

And taught you that girls were the devils spawn and were to be avoided at all cost (Male)

You once got suspended for calling the teacher an 'asshat'. Jason was lowkey sort of proud. Dick wasn't amused.

You have a white streak in your hair, and when you need to be with your father, he will play with that lock of hair.

You and Jason are exactly alike, with some different attributes. But that doesn't make you any less of a Todd.

Your damian's favorite. Just saying.

Tim Drake

You were definitely not what Tim Drake was expecting.

But definitely everything he wanted.

If there is one thing you both know how to do, it's complain.

"Oh my god, I did literally everything the books told me to do. Why are you still c r y i n g???"

"...WAH-"

*slams head into desk*

Tim swears that if he wasn't a coffee addict then, he fucking is now.

No sleep. At all. You give him too much shit.

Jason thinks it's hysterical because you seem to be Karma in a onesie for all the times Tim was a little shit to him.

Tim loves you to the moon and back, but you never fail to irk at least one of his remaining nerves that still works.

P r o b l e m a t i c C h i l d r e n

Yes, that means Tim and you.

Did he give you a bath just now? No the fuck he didn't. Did he just clean the high chair? No the fuck he didnt, bitch. Did he just change your diaper? Come back, bitch. It's a shitstorm in here, and you're in the eye of the hurricane. Gas mask it up, son.

As you grow up, Tim wants you to get out there and do whatever. He's slightly not ok with you dating, but don't think he won't do at least 15 background checks, stake outs, securing the perimeter, interrogations, whatever. Each. 15 each.

You are a computer genius just like him, but don't spend your time on the computer all the time. Mostly just to play games here and there.

As you grow in school, there is not a single day that goes by that you absolutely loathe it.

Honestly

Why cant you just homeschool. We have the capability too.

"Who even needs human friends? Uncle Damian is doing just fine with his animals."

"He also has homicidal tendecies, so. You're gonna get some human interaction whether you like it or not."

Honestly, you and Tim butt heads all the time, but at the end of the day, you are his flesh and blood, and he will protect and love you till the world stops turning.

Damian Wayne

Let's be honest: Damian Wayne would be the most worried and/or scared person on earth if he found out he was gonna be a dad.

All these insecurities about his past, the bad memories, all of it coming back to haunt him as he thought about his child.

Damian was not ready at all.

He was honestly very weary of you. Since he didn't really get along with children, there was no way to explain to him how to raise his kid for the next eighteen years.

He realized that when he held you. Kinda like an 'aha' moment, but with an 'oh shit' instead.

After Damian warmed up to you, though, he was Dad to the Max. Spin the fucking wheel to jackpot.

Damian has very high expectations for himself as a dad. He needs to be on top of the mark at all times or he is sure he has failed you.

Damian is a perfectionist, so if he doesn't get you to calm down after screaming bloody murder on the first try, he literally wants to stab something because wtf he was sure he was doing this right.

Damian sings you to sleep. Dami has the voice of an angel when he's quietly singing and it's soothing as fuck. Never fails to make you sleepy. Add in a bit of bouncing while leaned against his shoulder and it is lights o u t.

Damian is a very teasing father, despite how serious he can be. You are the only person who he shows his soft, relaxed side too. You are his everything and he lets you know that shamelessly.

Damian will kill anybody who even dares to mention your name or make horrible implications about your existence.

That is his child and he will fuck someone up if they speak wrongly of you. Talk shit, get hit, bitches get a fucking katana to the eye.

Definition of the meme "Don't talk to me or my son ever again."

Damian Wayne Will Definitely Not Hesitate, Bitch^TM

As you grow up, Damian makes it crystal clear.

NO DATING AT ALL.

Damian is protective as fuck. He needs to know where you are, where you are going, who is going with you, who is all going to be there, how long is it gonna be, how long are you gonna be driving there, are there gonna be any boys present, Drake, would you finish the damn background checks already???

Damian is just like Dick: not even in the afterlife or the bullshit after that.

You are very much like Damian. Practically a spitting image. It makes Damian feel proud because of the Wayne Legacy that you might keep up, his ego, and the fact that his child is a badass and looks like one too.

Damian and you are not perfect, though. You two often get into arguments about certain things, usually the littlest. One of the things you two often fight about, however, is the mantle of Robin.

Huge no-no.

Noooo. No no no.

There is no way you are becoming Robin. You are his baby and he is NOT going to let some STUPID costume ruin that for him.

He can be very cold, even to you at times, and since you didn't inherit his amazing lack skill of patience, you are often calling him out on his bullshit and his attitudes.

Seriously. Who even is the adult here anymore.

You are taller than Damian. It infuriates him to no end.

"Dad, how's the weather down there?"

"gROUNDED."

At the end of the day, Damian loves you dearly and you love him dearly as well. There is never a dull moment between you two and it makes for a harmonious atmosphere. Even if you can be a pain in each other asses, Damian is sure he would be lost to the world of familial love had it not been for you.

You are his rock and he is your oasis in a barren land. Family always, always matters to you both.

[montpahrnah]

Diff anon, similar ??: do you view remus as loving sirius outside your fic elcipse & transit? I guess there's a part of me that needs soulmates to exist, even in fiction (& if that's not how you see r/s, that's okay! I don't mean to put that on you, AT ALL, just me being soppy) & am curious if you interpret r/s as soulmates or not? Also curious on your remus thoughts in general, his redeeming qualities & not so, how your interpretation of him has changed over time & why you love his character?

this is such a big question and i love you for asking it… let me just wax poetic @ you for a bit 

the short of it is, YES, we are the same, i do believe r/s are soulmates and write them as such, and i’ll fight anyone about it because i’m right. i got an ask vaguely in that vein here a while ago. before that fic i’ve never written remus as anything but in love with sirius (and sirius irrevocably in love with remus), for better and for worse; when i wrote it i was really thinking about remus’s weird emotional coldness and his self-interested nature that sometimes edges into flat-out callous selfishness, and how that might fit into a wartime story where he realizes he can’t pretend anymore. and as remus would he just goes on to try and pretend differently with someone else, and when that ends badly too, he blames–as remus would do–anyone but himself.

in a lot of ways fandom tends to fall into the same trap a lot of characters do with remus in the books–we buy into the image he wants to project of himself, i.e. competent, caring, emotionally intelligent, a font of truth and wisdom with an inoffensive charm, infinitely suffering through no fault of his own at all ever, etc etc. and remus is a good person with a wonderful brain and a heart in the right if slightly off-kilter place who is capable of being those things, but that’s not the whole picture–it’s like, a head shot where the only things in the frame are a shoulder and an ear. remus is the same guy who cared more about himself than giving anyone crucial information when sirius was thought to be stalking the hogwarts grounds. the scene with the map and snape in poa has nothing to do with harry and everything to do with remus covering his own ass. he’d rather look the other way or take the path of least resistance and let things simmer than actually deal with them.

he has a certain carelessness occasionally wrt other people’s feelings (other characters are def careless with remus’s feelings and boundaries, but that doesn’t like, cancel this out). he’s a phenomenal liar. he’s manipulative, which we see with harry repeatedly, and a bit with sirius. he’s colossally irresponsible–he’d rather run away than deal with anything or admit he made a mistake. and when he’s confronted with his mistakes, he reacts very badly–trying to manipulate harry with james in dh after he runs away (i know no one likes to think about the shitshow involved with that, myself included, but remus’s behavior there is 100% in character when he’s made a mistake and wants out), and then firing off a curse at harry when he doesn’t get what he wants. in poa he runs off immediately rather than face the repercussions of forgetting his potion (i’m not talking about parents and the hogwarts governors or w/e, but his unwillingness to face what it cost harry and sirius). he cuts and runs and lets other people clean up his messes. he utterly, absolutely cannot/will not communicate anything important. he seems to have no desire to fix any of these things.

generally i think we’re soft with remus in a way he doesn’t deserve, and which kind of does an injustice to his character. like there’s this tendency–even when we are acknowledging that remus is flawed and isn’t always interested in doing the right thing–to cut him slack for it and implicitly justify it, or present them as cute character quirks or as remus being a stone cold badass, or act like everything bad in his life is actually all sirius’s fault. and yeah, there are plot reasons and blah blah and in the dingy light of remus’s circumstances/his lycanthropy, much of this is understandable, and it makes for an amazing, compelling character! whether it’s forgivable or not is a totally different story, and it’s a big part of why i love him so massively.

so! the thing that’s changed the most for me since i first started writing r/s is wanting to write/see remus as more than a tea-stained genius badass with a seductively ill pallor who has never hurt anyone in his life and definitely never would. writing him doesn’t come as easily to me as sirius does but i’ve also tried to move away from like, writing remus as this vessel for sirius’s development/love/hopes/dreams/growth etc, which i’ve been guilty of doing. they’re not dissimilar people at their cores and so much about their characters is predicated on each other and their history/preoccupation with each other, which is partly why they’re so interesting together, but for me so much of it is that sense–narratively and like, cosmically–that they don’t have a future without each other, whether they like it or not. i think it would take time for them to come to terms with it, sirius particularly, but by the time they do canon-wise it’s too late.

to circle back to your first point, i guess as weird as it is i think they are still soulmates in that story. sometimes that doesn’t look the way we want, and there is maybe something in the way preventing you from loving this person completely or at all–fear, resentment, wildly different desires/feelings, the pain/difficulty that i think is sometimes inherent in relationships like that… in other words i do believe they’re meant for each other and all that gooey fated multiverse nonsense, but it’s never going to be a hallmark original movie for them. it’s mostly why i’m kicking around a short sequel-ish thing, which i’m now more interested in than ever thanks to your amazing ask–thank you so much for this, dude

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Don’t Want None Unless (You Got Buns, Hun) AU

—

It was pouring down. As soon as he had stepped out from the afternoon lecture the heaven’s had opened up, the flimsy manilla folder with the days notes tucked haphazardly within was not much protection unlike the dark green umbrella tucked safely in the corner by his front door.

Struggling through the crowded streets of people pushing and shoving in a rush out of the rain around him, Jack Grey finally made it around a corner onto a quieter street a few blocks from the university when a bus made a sharp corner too. Dousing him head to toe in the splash as the wheels went through the overflowing gutter puddles.

A rush of warmth and a welcoming smell caught his attention, shivering from the icy cold water making his clothes cling to his front and the folder at his side now as it wouldn’t make any difference, as a young couple pushed out onto the street from the well lit shop behind him. He didn’t even think about it as he dove into the warm glow, shivering the whole way. Didn’t even think that he’d find himself dripping water upon the honey coloured wood floors, a small puddle forming around him.

There were a few patrons, eating little cakes and desserts at the mis-matching, beat up, second hand wooden tables around the room with cups of tea or coffee beside them, that looked up at his entrance. Jack shrunk down further into his blazer, the one attempt to feel like a professional that would give way within a few weeks for hoodies, as if to hide from the amused glances of the patrons. He made no move to enter the store further other than to get out of the path of those who may come in after him, not wanting to drip further throughout the store.

“Oh wow, what happened to you?” The question came from a rather tall man, brown hair pulled up into a messy, unravelling bun at the back of his head. Jack noticed a name badge pinned to the flannel shirt beneath his denim apron stating “Sam I Am” before the other man offered out the white tea towel from his back pocket. “Dry your self off a bit, bro, we’ll get you sorted. Hey Dean- can you grab me that mop?”

Jack found himself being pushed down in a seat at the closest empty table, patting half heartedly at his dripping hair with the towel and looking confused as a man at one of the other tables in a business suit stood to hand over a mop to the tall server, retaking his seat and coffee quickly. The wet floor was mopped within a few minutes, and as he set the wet folder down and his leather satchel down beside his feet, he was surprised to find the man called Sam back by him with another few towels, paper napkins and a steaming cup of coffee placed on the table before him. “Don’t worry about it, can’t have a future customer dying on pneumonia on us.” Sam said with a laugh, waving off Jack’s attempt to wave the cup away. “Relax, warm up.”

Around him, the small shop continued in a flurry of movement. The hulking shape of Sam continued to move about the store, picking up paper bags and crockery alike from tables as customers left, a quick and thorough wipe of the tables, and greeting everyone out of the cold like an old friend.

There was a reedy looking guy behind the display cases, working on the small coffee machine and ringing up the orders. His hair was a tragic take on an 80′s mullet, and he leered affectionately at every woman who approached the register.

The businessman - Dean - stayed longer than most, before leaving with a fist bump from the mullet-guy and a brief, one armed hug from Sam in passing. He left a folder with some papers at the register as well, before they disappeared out the back.

Jack felt himself warming up despite the still wet clothes, and made to shove away his folders into his satchel with a sigh. He should have driven into work that day, or at least remembered his umbrella, and he kept mumbling the same to himself the whole time as he managed to dry his hair and wring as much water from his top as possible. The coffee warmed him from the inside as much as the warmth of the small shop warmed him from the outside.

“Doing okay now?” Sam asked as he approached the table again, a dark grey bundle of fabric in one hand. “Here. The boss said you could use this, just make sure you return it sometime.” Jack reached out to examine the bunched up tshirt, a few sizes too big for him, but gloriously dry and the softness that comes from worn cotton. “Bathroom down the side you can change in, maybe dry your legs off under the pants too.”

“I couldn’t-”

“You can. Otherwise I’ll get the boss to come yell at you about it.”

“I-”

“Just go change, you can pay for that coffee if you must.”

The allure of a warm shirt won out, as Jack headed in the direction to the bathroom, tea towel in one hand and tshirt in the other. It was quick work to switch out and dry off, the chill finally disapating as he returned to the seat, wet clothes bundled up to be thrown in the wash as soon as he arrived home,

Slinging his bag over his shoulder as the rain seemed to die off, he dropped a ten dollar note onto the counter by the mullet man’s hand. “Can you thank your boss for me?”

“Tell ‘em when you bring it back.” The sarcastic retort made Jack smile as he headed back out, the door opening onto the cold day outside as he stepped out. He got all the way home before he realised he hadn’t checked to see the name of the store, and couldn’t remember anything about the street he turned down other than the warm scent of brownies lingering in the air.

The grey shirt remained in his satchel from then, and when time (and weather permitted) Jack would opt to walk home in search for the little shop. Was it a cafe? Or was it a bakery? Or a dessert patisserie? He could remember the coffee and the brownie smells, the old style display case with arrays of baked treats on display near the man with the ridiculous hairstyle. He could remember that Sam the Giant worked there, and that the floor was a sunny floorboard. Was it down the fifth block or the seventh? Was it busy out front or a quiet side street?

He could have sworn he had passed along every turn off between the university and his town house. Every corner had no giant puddles to wet him, and no smell of baking chocolate.

Right until the end of the next semester began and the smell of the brownies entered his lecture in a pink box with a group of students to sit on his desk. A present for helping with the organisation of their art showing at a local gallery he had assisted to set up. The top of the box had a black symbol - a design as if it could be a tattoo with a simplistic looking dagger stabbing into a cupcake, with a rose to either side - and a store name “Metallicake”.

As he shared out the brownies amongst his class, Jack knew the second he took a bite out of the last brownie in the box that he would be at the door to the Metallicake once class was done that afternoon. It was the most perfect brownie he had ever tasted, fudgey and rich, with a little flaky top crust that just crisped and crunched, leaving little brown flecks stuck to his lip until he licked them off. He had to buy more, he had to beg the baker to let him have an endless stream of them from here on out. The owner was evidently a genius, a true artist of his craft like Jack had been called for his fine line work years ago before he lost his passion for it. Perhaps the man behind them would let him become a regular like the businessman, and an endless supply of brownies.

The moment the clock clicked over to the four o’clock, Jack was out the door. Usually he hung back for any students who might have questions to approach him outside of the class hours, but not this afternoon. His phone was out, showing the spot of the little store and counting down the feet for him as he headed straight there, mind on that rich gooey brownie and how to get some more.

As soon as he turned the corner, Jack knew he was in the right place from the scent of baked goods and hot coffee coming over the smells of the city traffic. The nondescript storefront had the warmth and smell flooding the sidewalk in each time the door opened. It looked like a plain brick building, white paint flecked off of some of the red bricks giving the appearance of a run down old warehouse along the little side street. There were large windows with dark glass, rippled surfance distorting the light from inside. Above the door was an old styled hanging iron sign, shaped in the metal into the same design from the box, and the store name was stencilled on the bright yellow shop door.

Entering with a deep breath of the smell of bread, cake, brownies and frosting, Jack glanced around recognising the beat up tables and the old display case. There was a new graffiti art on the wall by the table he had sat at before, and a wider gap on the other which he could see was in the midst of a renovation - separated from the shop itself with a little caution tape. He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly as he approached the register, digging about in his satchel for the spare shirt with his other hand.

“What can I get ya? Coffee, cake? A scratching?” The same mulleted man was behind the register, gesturing at his bare tattooed arm at Jack’s curious look.

“Uh, no. I was..returning a shirt.” He finally got a hold of the cleaned and once folded shirt, holding it out to the other with an awkward smile. “I wanted to thank the owner for lending it to me.” As the barista stared at the fabric in his hand with confusion, Jack added quickly, “It was a few months ago, but I’d only gotten here getting turned about. I only worked out where you guys were this afternoon.”

“Uh huh. And you’ve had this with you that you could come right here upon finding out?” The name badge on the man’s shirt read ‘Dr Badass’ - though the name ‘Ash’ appeared to have been crossed out for it - and he seemed to be looking at Jack a little too curiously. “Well if you’re after the boss, take a seat and I’ll go get’em. Did anything else?” The question was like an after thought, as if he suddenly remembered he was supposed to sell things.

“A cap’ and one of those brownies would be nice.”

“Sure thing buddy.” Dr. Badass had already turned around to the coffee machine, pace not slowed at all as he went about getting the items.

Jack moved to sit where he had last time, satchel sitting by his feet again and pulling out his phone to act as if he were busy as he waited. The coffee was as perfect as the brownie, and there had been a little cookie sat on the spoon with a little love heart on it.

There was a crashing sound from behind the swing doors behind the counter, and mumbled shouting and laughter from the back room before the doors swung open. Dr. Badass and a short blonde were both laughing, before the man point over to Jack and went back to the register and coffee machine with a shake of his head. His mullet was tied in a pony tail as if it would help any.

“So, the drowned rat returns!” The blonde woman smiled as she reached him, hands wiping flour all over the hips of her jeans not covered by the demin apron at her front. “I thought you might have taken off with my shirt forever, and it would have been a great loss.”

Jack felt like his tongue was twice its real size, stumbling to his feet and holding out a hand for a shake as he took her in. Hair in a messy pony tail with flour and cocoa dust darkening the colour, amused brown eyes and a gentle smile. She wore a shirt almost identical, even in size, to the baggy one he had been loaned, extra fabric bulking out around her but pulled taunt by her jeans and apron. Looking at her reminded him of what he used to see in the mirror at the end of the day when he’d been painting - splattered all over and a happy smile at enjoying the work.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I couldn’t… remember where your store was. I meant to return it right away, and thank you for lending me your shirt, but I didn’t know the store.” Jack shrugged a shoulder after the firm response of the hand shake, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets this time at a loss of what to do with them. “One of the kids brought in a box of your brownies this afternoon so…”

“You got kids?” There was a curious look on her face as the woman gestured for him to sit back down, taking the opposite seat herself and a cup delivered by the barista within seconds.

“No! God no. Me? Not at all.” Jack reeled, awkwardly waving his hand about himself. The blonde looked a little deflated at that, as he explained, “I… work at the university. My name’s Jack, Jack Grey. Some of the students brought in your brownies as a thank you with the end of the semester approaching.”

The other nodded, smile coming back on her face again which made him feel a little warm. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m glad you enjoy my brownies-”

“Hey Jo! One of those alarms is going off!” The waiter Sam seemed to pop his head from the back, shouting across the room in a way that would have felt out of place at a less relaxed location.

“Coming!” The woman, Jo it seemed to Jack, called back. She shrugged a shoulder up at him, standing up from her spot. “Thank you for the compliments on the brownies, and the thanks. Maybe we’ll see you around again - now that you know where we are!” He felt the same heat again at the cheeky wink, and focused on his coffee and brownie rather than do anything else. He was finished both before the blonde seemed to reappear, and after waiting another few minutes, he left.

Metallicake became a haunt for him over the summer break, and continued into the next year.

Jack got to know Ash, otherwise known as Dr. Badass, was a talented tattoo artist alongside his coffee skills - and the space next to the bakery was being transformed into a high end tattoo parlour for him. He had rented the space off of Jo, and they had an agreement that he’d help with the bakery until the parlour got up and running. The man always had a wise crack and knowing smirk on his face, and according to him and the other workers he was a bonafide genius who dropped out of MIT to become a tattoo artist. Occasionally, he and Jack had engaged in a few drawing contests between themselves to the amusement of the rest of the team.

He found out that Sam-I-Am and Dean the Businessman were brother’s, and he had to bite down the feeling that the world was unfair to have so many attractive people in the one family. Sam had been a year below Jo at school and supposedly Dean had been her pity-date to prom before she was Sam’s the next year. After school, Sam got into Stanford and was currently completing his masters in law while working at the bakery. He claimed he filled out all the legal paperwork and was the store’s resident lawyer. His brother claimed that Sam had no stomach for real law and as such helped out friends and family until he finished his finals. Dean on the other hand worked for a corporate giant as a “paper-pusher-manager” in his words as part of the marketing and resources team. They both would go shooting on a weekend to relax. Jack could not comprehend shooting ever being a relaxing activity.

The one he learnt the least about, despite patronising the bakery every other day, was Jo. She owned the bakery and the building next door. Her favourite music was metal, and she had a talent for inducing joked marriage proposals with her baking. Jo had a mother and step father, her own dad had died when she was young, and she seemed to spend every waking moment of her life at the bakery. She also seemed to have a sweet spot for children. And would occasionally glare the others into submission at a string of unrelated topics.

There were a few other regulars that Jack got to know well - a weedy guy called Garth who would order a hot chocolate and an individual apple pie on a Wednesday and a take away different berry pie on a Friday with the crusts deliberately burnt each week, an angry looking guy who was always in a fitted suit and would flirt obnoxiously with Jo whenever she was out the front rather than the back of the store, and a nerdy guy called Harry who believed in ghosts and became a true friend for Jack. He and Harry would go to every midnight screening from the moment they met together, and would have regular gaming or movie nights - always with a box of brownies from Metallicake.

By the time the new semester arrived, he had become a fixture at the bakery - and Jo had even cajoled him into doing a large scale abstract artwork on their “artsy fartsy” wall two times over. (She always claimed she wanted to keep the space fresh and with something new for customer’s to look forward to. Jack thought that the only thing needed to bring in customer’s was her brownies and her smiles.) He was plotting his third when his sister stopped by between his two afternoon lectures.

“Hey big brother, I heard all your afternoon students have gotten ‘sick’ after a wicked pub crawl last weekend.”

It didn’t surprise him that she would know about it. Shada was ten years his junior and currently studying drama and acting at the same college where he was working. It also didn’t surprise him that his first year theory class of “History of Art: Renaissance to Now” was likely to become a well-skipped lecutre.

“Well, I must wait here at least until the class starts in five minutes-”

“And wait the respectable fifteen minutes more. Yes, yes, I know.” He smiled at her eye roll and gestured for her to take a seat and join him in waiting for the class unlikely to arrive. The siblings were close, despite their age difference, and Jack thought himself lucky to have such a loyal sister - though sometimes her spoilt nature and brattiness of youth would make him want to tear his hair out.

The pair talked right up until the required fifteen minutes, and when no sign of students arrived, Jack wrote a note on the board that he would load a lecture online of what should have been covered onto the board and packed up his bag. He planned to stop by Jo’s for a drink and to chat with Ash about potentially doing some art works for his parlour which was almost complete, when Jack turned around to find his sister still waiting for him

“Hey, want to go for a coffee and the best cake you will ever have?” Jack shrugged his bag onto his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Shada with a smile. He hadn’t introduced her to the Metallicake crowd so far, though he had shared some of his brownies, or cupcakes, or pie that he’d had around at home before. “The place I’ve been getting those cupcakes for you lately. They’re better fresh.”

“So long as it’s your treat! I’m a poor theatre student, remember?” Shada chirped back, her designer bag slung over her shoulder as they headed out undermining her claim. She always seemed to have the newest and best things, and Jack put that blame squarely on her innate ability to have men buy her things without realising she was using them. Somehow that extended to her brother, as he sighed and nodded.

The pair talked on and off on the walk over to the bakery, Shada was explaining her excitement about a TV pilot she had landed a ensemble role for and that some guy or other was taking her to a club opening that weekend. Jack simply nodded every now and then, bemused by his sister’s carefree life, before he pushed open the door to the store and held it for her.

“Hey Jack! I just finished a new peppermint brow-”

As he shut the door behind Shada, smiling to himself at the warm greeting from the baker, it was surprising to hear her stop mid word. Normally when she’d made a new creation, Jo wouldn’t stop talking long enough for him and the other regulars to try it until Ash would shove a hot chocolate with too many marshmallows in her hands. He looked around to see the blonde woman staring at him and his sister like a fish out of water, mouth gaping open and shut for a moment before she was gone out the back in a rush.

Taking Shada’s coat and gesturing at his normal table for her, Jack headed over to the register. “Hi Ash, what’s up?” He smiled at the other man, resting his elbows on the top of the glass case and looking for whatever new treat Jo had been working on. “Those the things Jo was on about?”

“Yeah…” Ash looked a bit confused to him as he moved away from the coffee machine, pulling out and plating up one of the brownies before he paused. “Uh… you’re girlfriend want one too?”

His face felt like it was on fire as Jack tried to answer, stumbling over his words. “My..My sister would…she doesn’t…” Coughing slightly, Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he glanced over his shoulder at his sister - perched on her chair and reapplying her lipstick. “My sister would have a white choc and raspberry cupcake.”

Ash seemed to look back and forth between them for a moment, before an amused smirk grew on his face. “Sister huh? Got a brother-in-law, brother?” As he plated up one of the cupcakes and threw a chocolate kiss on the plate beside it, Ash gave him a wink. “Want one?”

“Two lattes too, please. And no brother-in-law now or wanted.” Jack laughed back, handing over the cash needed and taking the two plates over to their table.

Shada was picking and buffing her nails at that point, smiling at him as he sat down. She looked delighted at the gorgeously decorated cupcake, with a light white chocolate batter, rippled with raspberry coulis through the batter itself, and topped with a raspberry buttercream and white chocolate shavings. Jack smirked to himself as the hidden liquid coulis within the cake itself caught her by surprise. “You’re right! They are better fresh.” She licked the red liquid off the side of her lip and cheek with a grin.

“Mhmm, if you liked real chocolate more I’d say you should try these.” Jack mumbled around a mouthful of his own brownie - nuts replaced with chunks of crispy peppermint candy, and a general minted flavour through the brownie itself. He’d love to know how Jo managed it. As he chewed on his bite, Ash arrived with the coffees, another kiss on the teaspoon on Shada’s saucer. “Thanks, Ash.”

“Yeah sure. Hi there, chickadee, do you like my belt buckle?” The skinny man smirked, straightening up and accentuating the item in question with a wiggle of the metal on his hip. Jack groaned to himself, biting down on a laugh as his sister looked curiously at the decorative metal buckle as if trying to decide if it were gaudy or not. At the shrug of her shoulder, the taller man lent down with a hand on the back of her chair. “Oh well, I think it’d be better on your forehead. Aye?”

“I think it’d be better being dragged out of the lake on a corpse myself.” The quip made Jack laugh, his sister smirking back at the other man before Ash left with his own laugh. Shada rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee before asking, “So you come here enough that the staff are so bold, or am I just special?”

“Well, you’re certainly not special!” He quipped back with a laugh, watching the other man shoot them a look before disappearing out the back. There was some loud voices, muffled enough not to ascertain the words itself, before Jack spotted the top of both Ash and Jo’s heads poking up the glass window in the door. He gave a small wave of a hand before both disappeared. “But yeah, I come here a few times a week. Don’t feel too weird about Ash, he’s like that with everyone.”

Shada gave a nod, popping both chocolate kisses in the base of her coffee cup and swirling to melt the chocolate through her drink. Both gave a laugh and began discussing the new pilot - Jack picking holds in the script and Shada gushing over the role of socialite-teen in Los Angeles and the clothes she would get to wear “and could take home if it gets picked up, and my role expanded!”.

The pair finished their food, and as they got up to leave, Jack couldn’t help but feel a little down he hadn’t gotten to speak with the blonde owner that afternoon.

Things had returned to normal when Jack returned a few days later, and Jo chewed his ear off about her new brownie mix - “I infused the milk with the mint too!” - and about how quickly Ash’s parlour was going along. It was due to open in the next three weeks, and Jack had finished the few art pieces of the other that afternoon. Jo was already the first customer for the new tattoo studio and was planning a tribute piece to her father with a motorcycle and roses on one side of her ribs.

“Yeah, and we’re doing one with a guitar on the other side for the ki-”

“Shut up, Ash, or I’ll fucking break your tattoo gun!”

Jack let out a laugh, not sure why the woman was blushing or what the other man was going to say, poking a hand at her ribs as he actually helped clear up at the end of the day alongside the others. Dean had convinced the rest of them to join him at his birthday drinks that night with his work friends, and Jack and Dean both had offered to help with the end of the day tasks so the others could make it. “So, how big are we talking, Jo?”

His hand was flattened against her ribs in a moment, hers pressed against the top of his. “About that size really, maybe a little smaller.” She shifted his hand a little, thumb rubbing against the skin of his wrist. “You’ve got real big hands..” The comment appeared to be unintended, a small frown on her face as Jo looked at the size of his hand on her side and under her own hand.

“I’m sure he’s got real big other things too, Jojo.” The quip came from Dean, leaning against the register as he helped do the cashing up.

“Yeah, maybe he could show you out the back just how so. You’d like that wouldn’t you, darlin’?” Ash built on the joke, smirking as he looked over from the cleaning of the coffee machine.

Jack felt his cheeks heating up, and could see Jo’s doing the exact same, as they almost jerked away from each other to turn back to wiping down the tables.

“Awww, c’mon Joanna, I’m sure Jack’d be happy to show you just how big his.. … hands are.” Sam added, as he finished off the sweeping and the group all finished their tasks. Jack and Jo both gave a laugh, shaking their heads as the others joined in.

Shooing the men out the door, Jo flicked off the lights as they all confirmed where the drinks were to be - some club suggested by Dean’s work colleague as a great place with cheap drinks and hot girls - and headed off to their own homes to get changed. Jack was amused to find Jo walking along the same path as him, arms swinging at her sides and occasionally skipping to match his stride.

It turned out she lived the block over from him, and Jack suggested he’d meet her out front her own building rather than at the club, so they’d have someone to split the taxi fare with.

His routine for going out had always been fairly simple, and not changed at all in the decade and half since he was in his early 20′s and had been regularly active on the art circuit. A quick shower and towel dry of his hair, a spritz of cologne and a nice pair of jeans with a black button up and black blazer. Definitely not the level of effort he would if this were a date, though that thought confused him as he headed down the block to the other’s.

When he was buzzed up, Jack made his way quickly to her apartment and rapped on the door quickly.

A frazzled looking Jo opened the door for him, gone back into the depths of her apartment before he’d even stepped through the door. He moved in, shutting the door quietly behind himself and sat on the worn leather couch. Her throw pillows, covered in pastel pop art of donuts and cupcakes and cakes, amused him as he sat back waiting.

It was another thirty minutes, almost the time they were due to arrive at the party, and Jo had still not finished getting ready. Jack had started investigating the small apartment and found photos of a young Jo and her family growing up, photos of her and the Winchester brother’s through their teenage years including a hilarious prom photo with Dean’s hear spiked like a mowhawk, and photos of Jo and a young boy. He had found several framed accolades - her culinary school degree, additional qualifications including one for business school and a signed film poster of Night Of The Living Dead - and an image he could tell was her future tattoo plan framed as well. She had a good range of DVDs from horror to children’s films and video games, as well as a music collection that made him amused to see how different the genres all were. No books other than cooking books and children’s fantasy stories were around the place.

He was flicking through a cookbook - looking at molecular gastronomy and baking - when Jo emerged again. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden, looking away from her as she assembled her keys, phone and sundries into a small black sequined clutch. “Uh… Nice.. uh, dress and..stuff, Jo.” He flicked a glance back over at her, not sure how to reconcile the Jo that always had her hair in a messy bun covered in flour to the gentle waves pulled back into a loose yet classy high pony tail. He blinked trying to see the same Jo in the worn out jeans or overalls and mens shirts with the apron to the fitted yet simple black dress which clung on her hips and above just right. She had even done something to her face, though Jack missed the smudges of batter or flour or cocoa that would always coat one of her cheek bones that he wanted to brush off.

“I’m so sorry, I’m making you late too.” Jo seemed a little flustered, brushing her hands against her hips as if they were sweaty. She checked her phone for the third time since coming back to the main area. “I’m just waiting… my mom is supposed to be comin’ around to keep an eye on B- uh, things, but she’s a few blocks away still.”

“That’s fine, Jo, I can wait.” He shrugged, not quite sure why she needed her mother to visit when she was heading out, but Jack didn’t question further. “I’ll text Harry and let him know we’ll be a little late.”

“Thanks so much, hun.” The relief on her face was worth it as Jo bustled back into her bedroom.

Jack sent off a short text to his best friend of the group. /Hey man, J and I running late. Be there soon./

There wasn’t even a minute before his phone beeped, and then three more times before he had even opened the screen.

/Dude u busy hitting that Y N??? If Y dnt bother 2 come./ He rolled his eyes at the text from Harry, breathing out a huff at the suggestion.

There were three more messages from the group, making him rub his temples as a headache began to make itself known about going out with them all that night.

Dean simply texted /stop fucking & get to my party, bitch!!!/ who was short and to the point as always, while Ash had sent a link to a webpage Jack shut the second it had fully loaded. However, Sam sent the only rational text of the lot saying /dnt wrry bout it, c u when u get here/.

“They know we’re going to be a bit late.” Jack called out, flicking through the cook book a few more times before there was a knock at the door. “Uh, Jo… I think your mom is here.”

“Brilliant!” The woman reappeared within seconds, going straight across to the front door and getting a quick embrace from the other woman. “Hey mum, thanks so much. Everything has been done, all settled down and ready for the night. Hopefully nothing drastic comes up, but you’ve-”

“Got your number, and I raised you. I’m good.” The older woman cut in, giving her daughter another quick hug before separating and glancing over at Jack himself. He thought that he could tell where Jo got her friendly nature as the woman approached to shake his hand. “Hi there, I’m Jo’s mom Ellen. I’m betting you’re Jack Grey, from the bakery?”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack shook her hand and froze when he was pulled into a quick hug. He coughed awkwardly as the woman pulled back, rubbing at the back of his neck as he glanced over at Jo. “We, uh… we’ve got to head off shortly.”

“Oh of course, of course, enjoy your date you too. And Jo, don’t worry about coming home tonight if you need to - Bobby is holding down the fort at home.”

As the pair got shooed out into the corridor, Jack could see how embarrassed Jo appeared as well at her mother’s misunderstanding. Shoving the slight twang at her being embarrassed at the idea of their being on a date, he gestured for the woman to lead the way out to the street and flag down a taxi, purposefully not watching her behind as she walked.

The trip to the club took no time at all, and as Dean’s work friends had booked out a VIP section, their names were both at the front to head straight inside. Jo grabbed a hold of his hand as they wound their way through to the private section with a laugh upon spotting their friends.

“You guys are so tactless!” Jo scolded the lot, flagging down rum and cokes for both of the new comers as they joined Ash and Harry. Dean and Sam were circulating throughout the rest of the guests. “You’re as bad as my mom!”

“He met your mom? Jesus, dude, I am so sorry.” Harry patted Jack’s arm, thought Jack just looked at him in confusion for a moment before shrugging as he sipped his drink. “But hey, at least you got here before Dean got drunk and started singing classic rock songs.”

That got a laugh out of the pair of them, and Jack recalled aloud the mowhawk photo he’d spotted at Jo’s house getting a round of “Story story story” from the other two for Jo. Everything seemed to flow easily between the four of them, and both Dean and Sam joined the small group on occasion.

“Hey there,” The voice came from a sleazy looking business guy from Dean’s work, and Jack, Harry and Ash all raised a brow at the hand resting casually on Jo’s hip from the stranger. “You know, you might not be the hottest chick here, sweetie, but you could be the hottest in my bed tonight.”

“God, ick!”

All three of the men laughed as Jo sliced her arm doing to shove the guy’s hand off of her, and in the dim lighting it was the same sleazy businessman who would stop by the store on occasion. Exchanging a glance, Ash piped up as the man looked like he might speak again, “Hey, dude, the lady ain’t interested now or any time you show up. Like I always say.”

“Yeah, and clearly you are blind.” Harry piped up, stepping across to one of the waitresses circling to grab drinks for the four of them, leaving Jack to extrapolate for him.

“Clearly you’re blind, as our Jo is obviously out of your league.”

There was a brief stand off before the man shrugged with a parting “your loss, sweetie” before he headed back towards the gaggle of young twenties receptionists on the other end of the area.

“Urgh, I am so sick of that guy! How many times do I have to say no?” Jo whined, tossing back the shot Harry brought over for the group with a grumble.

Ash snorted, finishing his before answering, “Well you could just tell him about Billy. He’d tuck tail and never come in again.”

“And lose a valued customer? …Maybe.” The laugh made Jack laugh too, a little louder and a little more huskily than usual. He felt a little warmer from the drinks too, and found himself frowning slightly as Jo went to dash off to the ladies room.

“Hey Ash?” He sidled over near the other man, still wearing a sleeveless button up shirt and jeans, though without the usual long sleeved undershirt that the OHS required of him, showing off toned, heavily tattooed arms. “Ash, who’s Billy?”

Ash gave him a weird look, laughing slightly at the question before replying. “He’s Jo’s son, dah. Kid is about to turn three next month and we’re doing a big party at the bakery.” He rolled his eyes, shoving an elbow into Jack’s ribs with a laugh. “Thought you knew, given Ellen’s babysitting and all tonight.”

He blinked at the information, not having ever thought of Jo as a mom. She didn’t seem motherly or old enough to have had a child, even one that young. Though the way Jo would stop some of the conversations or dance around what she did during her hours away from the bakery made a lot more sense. Jack looked over as she arrived again, the rounded side of her hips and the dark circles her concealer never managed to hide making sense for such a young mother.

It wasn’t brought up again the rest of the night as they all continued to celebrate, rounds of shots every time one of the two brother’s joined them, and doubles when they both would arrive, amongst their other drinks. The night wore on, and as the hour struck two in the morning, the group headed back out into the night and towards their own homes. Jack offered to split a cab with Jo again, and together they departed with jokes and laughter from their other friends.

“How..Jo, how come you hadn’t mentioned Billy to me?” Jack asked quietly in the back of the cab, one hand stretched across the space to touch against her thigh gently. He couldn’t explain why he was bringing this up now or why he was trying to touch her, but he was and he wanted to know.

Jo shrugged a shoulder, sliding a little closer across the back seat to rest her thigh against his as his hand slid over the top and between her legs. “I dunno, I just didn’t want to be ‘single mom Jo’ to someone for once.” She tilted her head, eyes fixated on his face a she seemed to sway a little. “Does it matter?”

“That you didn’t say, or that you are?” Jack asked back, not certain which she meant, but the answer was the same for both. “No, doesn’t matter now anyway. Isn’t much different.” His thumb rubbed against her bare skin, marvelling at how smooth it was, and that she was okay with it. He turned to ask her another question before she covered his mouth with her own, the sweet taste of soft drink and rum on her tongue matching his own.

The pair didn’t separate until the taxi driver pulled to the side outside of her building. Jack raised a brow at the woman pressed against him, and at her nod instructed the driver to go back to his address instead.

From there, the night was a bit of a blur for him, though he remembered most of it the next morning. Jo had pressed him against the entrance door to his town house for quite some time, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and pressed right against him. They’d made their way into the entry way and he’d fumbled to put away his keys with one arm still wrapped around her waist as his hand squeezed her ass, her own arms around his neck as they kissed. Once inside his living room, Jo had paused to look around his home, asking questions and getting answers and kisses in return. They’d started on the table, her legs wrapped around his hips and his lips on her neck as they had moaned, though they made it back to his bedroom eventually and spent the hours until sunrise wrapped up around each other.

When his alarm sounded that Saturday morning, Jack had slammed his phone into the wall and tucked his head back against her neck as the night came back to him. It had felt surreal, and still felt that way as her warm body was flush against him both sticky from the night before.

The next thing to wake the pair up was the sound of Jo’s phone ringing loudly from the other room. Eventually they untangled, though Jack was at a loss to let her go without a promise for her to return back. He could hear Jo’s side of the phone conversation clearly in the small house, smirking slightly. “Hey. Yeah mom, I’m alright. …Yeah, I stayed at Jack’s… How’s Billy? What time is it? … Oh cool, great, uh huh, mhmm, sounds good mom. … Okay, we’ll be around there in an hour or so. Uh huh. ..Okay see you later, give him a kiss for me.”

Jo reappeared, the dark shirt he had worn the night before wrapped around her, and crawled back into the bed by his side as if she thought he hadn’t woken. He demonstrated otherwise, and after another energetic round that morning, finally released her to get dressed.

“So mom’s taken Billy to breakfast down the road, and wanted to know if w- ..if we would be joining them?” Jo seemed a little uncertain, raising a brow at him. “I mean, if you want to come. No pressure, no worries.”

“I can always have breakfast.” Jack shrugged as he rose, getting dressed himself before handing a spare shirt over to her that would fit and look like an actual ensemble with the black dress beneath rather than the aftermath of a one night stand. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush in a packet under the sink if you want to brush your teeth.”

That got him an impromptu kiss, though Jo appeared to pull back and think better of doing it again.

They were both ready and out of the door within half an hour, and met Jo’s mother and son at a family friendly diner nearby. Jack was surprised that the young boy matched the one in the photos at her house, though wasn’t sure why it surprised him so. The boy had a shock of blonde hair, and bright green eyes that looked around the restaurant sleepily. Watching Jo with her son made him smile into his coffee, and he recognised the same care that she had with the other guy’s at her store. It was a nice breakfast, and Jack didn’t get the chance to speak with Jo about the night before they had to split.

He headed back to his home, smile still on his face throughout the whole weekend. Shada stopped by on the Sunday afternoon, and Jack could even enjoy the constant chattering of her about her latest date and the fancy clothes she got to wear on set that week. He’d not even felt down marking the rather horrible essays from his introduction class, more positive marks than he’d previously provided for those.

The only odd part was the unanswered text messages to Jo; though Jack did not think much of it as he went about his work, until he arrived at the bakery the Monday afternoon and was ambushed by Ash and Sam with fevered looks upon their faces.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“What the hell did you do after Dean’s birthday?”

“What do you guys mean? We.. uh.. That is some things happened, and then… uh.” Jack mumbled, eyes looking frantically around and towards the door to the back room. “We had breakfast with Ellen and Billy, and then Jo took him home and.. what?”

The looks of confusion on the other men’s faces just made Jack all the more confused, raising an eyebrow back at them. “What’s going on?”

“Uh… Jo’s gone nuts.”

“And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Jack shoved past the pair, and for the first time ever went behind the register and pushed through the door to the back space.

It was exactly what he would expect of a space where Jo would work her creative genius. The walls were the same white painted brick as the outside of the building, and the roof was the same original warehouse ceiling, with the windows shining light down off the angled roof lines lighting up the space. There was a bank of industrial sized ovens along one wall, and what looked like an old wood fired oven in the back corner. Jo was standing with her back to the entrance, and at the end of the bench she worked at was a tray stack filled with trays of different cupcakes. Her bench was covered with different coloured icing bags and open plastic containers of decorative items. However she seemed to be standing there, retrieving a cupcake before smushing it beneath her fist without decorating it, and then moving it onto the next station.

Jack gave a weary sigh, approaching the woman carefully before he decided to take the plunge and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Ash what the fu-” Jo started, turning her head before freezing upon looking up at his face. “Uh..”

Jack smiled uncertainly, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Um…” Jo stammered, a half smashed cupcake in her hand as she looked between it and his face. “Uh… Nothing?”

“Really? Nothing? Did the cupcake offend you in some way?” He tightened his arms as it became clear she wasn’t about to hit him, though the look on her face at that, he was no long so sure. “I’m sure the cupcake didn’t mean to if it did, and if given the option would explain themselves.”

Jo gave a small sigh, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to smile. “The cupcake never texted me after a very interesting evening.”

“What?! Yes I did! You never texted me back!”

They both stared at each other in confusion for a long moment, before Jo turned in his arms with a frown.

“You did not text me, I texted you and you never responded.”

“Incorrect, hun, I sent you five texts and even tried to call.” Jo raised a brow, pulling out her phone with her free hand to show him, though Jack laughed upon reading the screen and the increasingly aggressive and annoyed texts. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s not my number. My number ends in a two, not three.” He frowned for a second himself before pulling out his own phone one handed and showing the number to her. “Is…is this not you?”

There was a minute as she read his own messages to her before her laugh made him follow, both of them setting them down upon the bench. Jack tilted his head for a moment before he lifted the other up and sat her upon the bench top as well, hands rubbing up and down her sides after. There was a moment before she reeled him in for a deep kiss, hands tangling into his hair and guiding him this way and that.

They pulled apart at a long wolf whistle, the glass in the door showing the cheering and jeering faces of their friends before Sam gave them a wink and pulled the other’s away so they could resume where they left off.

“So, we’re good?”

“Very.”