#mediamaniac23

[allourheroes]

“I threw a snowball at my friend but accidentally hit u instead holy shit I am so sorry I didn’t mea- WAIT STOP TRYING TO SHOVE SNOW DOWN MY SHIRT AS PAYBACK IT WAS AN ACCIDENT” Harry Osborn x Peter Parker

To be fair, Gwen had started it.

All Peter wanted to do was get her back. That was it. That was all.

Yeah, maybe his spider powers made him throw a little hard, a little far, but how was he supposed to know it’d hit that hard or go that far?

The second the guy falls over, Peter starts to panic. “Shit.”

He runs over and offers his hand and doesn’t have the chance to see Gwen grimacing at the whole thing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I–” Peter is interrupted as a handful of snow touches his neck, his chest, a gloved hand shoving it down his shirt with gusto. “Ah!” And then another and he’s falling over and the guy he’d pelted with a snowball is straddling him, hands still grabbing and shoving snow any place he can reach.

“Stop! I’m sorry!” Then, “Harry?”

The guy pauses. “Peter?”

Peter grins despite how cold and wet Harry has gotten him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Harry returns, also happily surprised. But then he’s shoveling more snow onto Peter.

“Hey,” Peter cries, a completely different tone. “It was an accident! Why– Stop–” He flips them over and holds one of Harry’s wrists on either side of his head.

Slowly, Harry smirks. “I guess you have me at your mercy.”

Peter’s expression wars between amused and flirtatious. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

Just as he leans down, a snowball clocks him and he scrabbles to get up. “No fair, Stacy!” he’s shouting, but his mind is still on the ground with Harry. He’s dimly aware that he’s actually soaked and freezing, but he feels like he’s burning up.

“Am I interrupting?” Gwen asks, approaching, and Peter shakes his head.

“Not yet,” Harry grumbles, but he doesn’t sound too put out by it.

Peter laughs, awkward and too loud, and Gwen and Harry share a look.

“Do you have his number?” Gwen asks Harry, ignoring Peter.

“No.” Harry says and offers his phone and Gwen is programming in the number before Peter can do more than make a choked noise.

“He’s free tomorrow before 10:30,” Gwen is saying as she hands back the phone.

“Hey,” Peter tries weakly, but neither pays him any mind.

“Coffee at 9?” Harry asks and he’s still addressing Gwen.

She smiles. “Perfect. Just text him the address and he’ll be there.”

“Great.” Harry turns to go and Peter opens and closes his mouth several times.

“It’s a date!” Gwen calls and Peter trails her like a confused puppy.

“What?”

Gwen swivels. “Wear something nice.”

“But–”

Gwen gives him a Look.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and they move on.

[lengthofropes]

mediamaniac23 replied to your post: ok i’ve got beer, i’ve got cookies, i’...

i wish you the best and lots of kleenex

OH DEAR LORD!

[stoleyourcarbon]

mediamaniac23 replied to your post: my mom and i just got in a big ass fig...

Victory makes it taste that much sweeter

but i didn't win i slammed my plate on the table and said "then just fucking take it I don't give a shit" and stormed off yelling "I hope my infected watermelon gets you sick"

[afacelesschampion]

I got tagged by alisunhendrixs

1. whats your favorite animal?

Cats. Big cats, little cats, house cats, wild cats. KITTIES.

2. if you could spend a year in another country where would it be?

Umm, i don't know. Canada, maybe?

3. whats one song you’ll never get sick of listening to?

Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

4. puppies or kittens???

why would you ask this??? omg i can't choose

5. what book do you frequently recommend people?

The Hunger Games series

6. what disney princess are you most like?

Elsa. She had to deal with depression and anxiety and i can just relate to that.

7. whos your all time favorite character from tv/movies/books?

oh damn. Harry Potter. i just love him

8. whats your fave holiday?

halloween

9. what was the first thing you wanted to be as a kid?

a comedian

10. are you having a good day?

eh, it's okay

So my questions are:

What is the last book you read?

What was the first movie you saw in theaters?

Do you have any pets?

Have you ever watched a show/movie that you hated for someone else? If so, what was it?

What do you do when you are stressed?

Do you have any tattoos? Do you want any?

Who's your favorite superhero?

What is something/someone you want to dress up as for Halloween?

What movie are you most looking forward to this year?

If you could have one superpower what would you want?

and I tag baby-duppy, mediamaniac23, makornoris, hale-derek, elithanathile, aaronpaulpls, asteeperdrop, bunny-the-lifeguard

[ibongbakal]

mediamaniac23 replied to your post:8 episodes into Supernatural. Now I know what...

You have some ways to go. Enjoy the emotional toll the journey takes. Muahahahahahaha

I still have around 190 episodes to go. It's gonna take a while. I've heard a lot about the emotional stuff the later seasons have. I'll just see it when I get there.

[allourheroes]

“I always thought u looked rlly mean but I guess the sun was just in ur eyes or something cause now that u aren’t glaring you’re actually kinda gorgeous” Harry x Draco

The first time Harry sees Draco Malfoy smile--not sneer, not grimace, not smirk--his whole world changes.

It’s their eighth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort has been defeated, and life has had to go on.

He sits between Ron and Hermione and stares across the Great Hall in wonder. “Did he always look like that?”

Hermione looks up from the paper and Ron looks up from his breakfast.

“What?” Ron asks.

“Who?” Hermione asks.

Harry bites his lip and stares at his fork, stabbing it into a chunk of potato. He glances back up and Malfoy’s smile isn’t as wide, but it’s presence hasn’t disappeared completely. “Malfoy,” he explains, but it suddenly feels weird to say.

Ron still seems vaguely confused, but Hermione considers the question. “What do you mean exactly?” she says finally and Harry swallows.

“All...happy.” It sounds innocent enough, right?

“He’s not living with the Dark Lord,” Ron suggests.

“He hasn’t made a deal to kill our headmaster,” Hermione continues.

“His father’s in Azkaban.”

Harry frowns. He hadn’t realised how much Malfoy’s life had changed in the past few years. “Right,” he agrees, but it doesn’t really answer his question.

~

Harry happens to run into Draco Malfoy in the hallways. It just happens. Or so he tries to convince himself.

When he says “runs into,” he means it literally.

“Here, sorry,” he’s murmuring as he hands back the book Malfoy had been carrying--something on advanced potions that Harry couldn’t comprehend.

They’re up close and Harry can get a good look at him. He just wants to sate his curiosity once and for all.

All he confirms is that Draco Malfoy is exceedingly...distracting.

His hair. His eyes. His eyelashes. His hands.

“It’s fine,” Malfoy is saying and Harry barely hears him without the disdainful “Potter” thrown at the end.

Draco Malfoy doesn’t sound angry at all, actually.

And he smells nice.

~

For some reason, Harry’s hand brushes against Malfoy’s in their charms class.

Malfoy’s hands are soft and he startles slightly and moves to accommodate Harry and then Harry wants very badly to kiss him.

Where had that come from?

Harry shakes his head and moves back next to Hermione.

“Are you alright, Harry?” she asks and Harry also wants very badly to be able to tell her yes and put all this behind him.

“Mmh,” he grunts and he’s glad she’s too busy paying attention to the professor to notice how he fumbles his quill.

He could swear that Malfoy glances in his direction and Harry blushes as he pretends he wasn’t still looking for Malfoy in his periphery.

~

It wasn’t unusual for Harry to think of Malfoy as he waited to drift off into sleep.

He had spent quite a long period of time watching Malfoy move about the map suspiciously.

He had spent time before that remembering a snide remark and thinking of all the things he could’ve replied.

He had thought about why Malfoy didn’t turn him.

Now he thinks about Draco Malfoy’s eyes and hands.

He thinks about how Draco smelled. He can’t describe it, but it had been nice.

He wonders how he could maybe smell that smell again.

It sounds creepy and he tries to forget it, but the thought just won’t go away.

Harry wants to touch Draco’s hand again. Was it really as soft as it had seemed?

Harry wants to stare into his eyes.

Harry wants to smell him.

Harry wants to, and this is the nail in his coffin, kiss Draco.

Most of all, though, he wants to be the one to make Draco Malfoy smile, like he had the other day. He wants Draco to be happy.

He wonders idly when “Malfoy” had become “Draco.”

~

Somehow, they end up partners.

Hermione is with Ron and Malfoy’s popularity isn’t what it once was, so when Draco’s normal partner is absent, Harry is just filling the seat.

There’s probably not much point in lying to himself now, but the other option involves him trying very hard to get Draco Malfoy to kiss him and that sounds like a bad plan.

But then.

Then Harry nudges Draco with his shoulder. “I heard you were top of the class in potions.”

Draco frowns. “What are you on about?” It lacks the bite it used to have and Harry takes it as encouragement.

“Hermione says you’ve got a real talent for it.” He shrugs. “It was never really my thing.” He offers a smile and his heart is in his throat.

Draco, to Harry’s unending joy, smiles back.

And that’s a good start.

[allourheroes]

Promptttttt Credence x Graves..... Graves is Officer Nasty. You already know what's up *eeyyyyy*

Super short and maybe super OOC, but, uh, it’s something.

Modern AU? | Credence Barebone/Percival Graves

Credence tends not to look up too often. When he does, he sees irritation and anger and hatred and pity and a million other things he can’t understand.

He just needs to make it home.

The thing is, he’s so focused on clutching the pamphlets to his chest, on walking quickly, on never making eye contact, that he bumps into someone.

It’s not the first time, but when he glances up far enough to see a police officer’s uniform staring back at him, he panics.

“So-- so sorry, sir.”

“You’d better be,” the cop tells him, voice stern. “I could take you in for assaulting an officer.”

Credence already feels the tears welling in his eyes. “Please, I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t-- Please.” He sniffles and then he feels a hand on his shoulder and he flinches.

“Hey.”

Credence is trying his best not to cry. “Sorry,” he mumbles, wet and edging into a whine.

“It’s fine,” the officer says, and Credence takes a moment to breathe, to regain what little composure he can, before actually looking at the man’s face.

The cop is smiling, but there’s too much concern for it to be natural or genuine.

“It was an accident,” Credence repeats, small and ineffectual. “I’m sorry,” and he looks at the cop’s badge and frowns, “Officer Nasty.”

The man’s expression is sheepish and, above all else, real. “As you’ve probably guessed, I’m not a cop.”

“Why are you dressed like one?”

Officer Nasty boggles at him. “I’m a, uh, hot cop.”

“I thought you weren’t a cop?”

The not-cop-hot-cop lets out a sigh. “Look, kid, I dress up like a cop, go to parties, then take off my clothes.”

Credence blushes. “What?”

“I’m a stripper.”

“Oh.” Credence, with some difficulty, pries his gaze away from the man’s face to stare at his armful of pamphlets. “God will punish you. Mother says so.”

The guy laughs. “I hope someone will.” He pauses and Credence in his sinful curiosity looks back up. “What’s your name?”

He probably shouldn’t. It’s not right-- “Credence,” he says.

“Well, Credence,” the man says, and Credence nearly shudders at hearing his own name from the stranger’s mouth. “I’m going to give you my card.” When Credence turns a particularly alarming shade of red, he adds, “And you don’t have to call me about business.”

“I don’t--”

The man--Percival Graves, and that can’t just be his stripper name--puts out a hand. “You seem like you could use someone to talk to.”

Credence exhales sharply, but he doesn’t deny it.

“Call me.”

Two days later, from a payphone three blocks from the church, Credence does.

[allourheroes]

“Yes. I might have given you rabies. But in my defense, that’s ridiculous and I didn’t.” Stiles x Derek

Warning: Mentions of sex and biting.

Derek/Stiles | 360

Ever since Derek’s eyes changed from red back to blue, Stiles had been thinking about getting bitten.

Not in the becoming-a-werewolf-and-ruining-your-whole-life way, but the take-me-you-magnificent-beast-sexytimes way. Once Stiles found out that only an alpha could turn a regular human into a werewolf (or a kanima, or a werecoyote, or a...), Stiles had allowed himself to indulge in certain fantasies he hadn’t had since he found out werewolves were actually real.

There’s something animalistic and disgusting and majorly hot about the idea of getting bitten by a dangerous beast in the throes of passion and so, when the opportunity arises, and said beast is fucking Stiles to within an inch of his life, maybe--just maybe, alright?--Stiles bares his throat and grunts, “Yeah, come on. Do it.”

Although the act had brought Stiles almost instantaneously to climax, it’s Derek who has to live with the consequences.

“Am I bleeding? I feel like I’m bleeding.” Stiles is using the front-facing camera on his phone to check, although it’s too dark and the camera’s quality is too low for him to be certain of anything.

“You’re not bleeding,” Derek says, although he had tasted blood. Stiles isn’t actively bleeding now, and that’s what he asked. He adds, as Stiles pulls on the skin, “If you keep picking at it, you will be.”

With an annoyed frown, Stiles stops. “You better not have given me rabies.”

“I don’t have rabies.” Derek is trying to have patience, truly, and he may have made a mistake, but who was he to deny Stiles’s request in that moment?

Stiles glares a him. “I bet you’re, like, a carrier though, you know? Like, how werewolves can’t really get sick but then also they can?”

Derek closes his eyes and exhales long and slow from his nose. “Yes. I might have given you rabies. But in my defense, that’s ridiculous and I didn’t.”

Seconds tick by before Stiles deflates. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sighs, then a wicked expression comes over his face. “That was pretty fucking hot, right?” He nods, hoping Derek will do the same.

Derek stares, blinks. Then eventually a resigned, “Yeah.”

Stiles beams at him.

[allourheroes]

I am shopping in your bookstore and you didn’t notice my mother was standing directly behind me when you really blatantly hit on me. Dick x Damian

“Come here often?”

It’s the oldest line in the book and Damian rolls his eyes but, given the gaul of someone who would hit on him in front of his intimidating mother and the man’s physique, he allows it without reprisal. Instead, he replies with an even, “I’ve never been to this establishment before.”

“First time?” the stranger asks with a waggle of his eyebrows, then shifts gears. “I can show you around.”

Damian feels his mother’s intrigue without turning and wonders how even someone who has never met Talia al Ghul does not immediately quake in her presence. She has said nothing, however, so Damian tries to give the man an easy out. “I think I can manage without the help of a sales clerk.”

The man shrugs. “I’m not a clerk, just a friend of the owner.” He offers his hand and, with a raised brow, Damian shakes it. “Richard Grayson,” he says, then, more lasciviously. “Dick, if you’d like.”

The double entendre is so terrible that Damian wonders if someone put this Grayson guy up to it. Against his better judgement, he’s impressed at the level of confidence. “Damian.” With keen awareness of his mother, he admits, “I do like Dick,” and receives a much more genuine smile that his own muscles twitch to reciprocate against his will.

“Finally,” Dick says, and he lets out a breath of relief. “A name.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “My friend told me I needed to get out there and talk to people and, well, we made a bet.”

Damian prickles. “Oh?”

“I told her you were cute,” Dick continues, apparently unaware that Damian has taken offense. “She told me I was charming enough to get your name with the cheesiest pick up lines imaginable.”

“How flattering,” Damian deadpans and turns to Talia. “Mother, we’re leaving.”

“You let this boy insult you,” she says, in Arabic, and Damian huffs.

“The insult of a nobody means nothing,” Damian replies in English and then he’s walking away.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!”

Damian does not wait, but he does not give this Dick Grayson the satisfaction of seeing him pick up his pace.

“Stop, please! I’m sorry.” He dashes in front of Damian and Damian pauses, but his expression does not soften. “Did you hear the part where I said you were cute?” Nothing. “That’s your mom?”

“Tt.”

“Put this bug in his place, Damian.” Talia sneers at Grayson and only then does the guy seem to realize how dangerous the people in front of him may be.

“I’m sorry,” Dick repeats. “I wasn’t trying to insult you or anything, really. Can I buy you a coffee? As an apology?” he offers quickly with a glance at Talia.

Damian sizes him up. He knows that his mother is watching them keenly. “Tea,” Damian commands and Dick hesitates, then nods eagerly.

“Tea. Sure. Yes.” And Dick is smiling again and Damian feels that weird feeling of wanting to mirror it again and he flushes.

Damian can feel his mother’s judgement and he knows he is disappointing her.

He lets Dick Grayson buy him tea anyway.

[allourheroes]

5 of ? "You got a minor injury like a scraped knee or some shit but ur being a huge baby about it so I’m helping u out and wtf stop trying to flirt with me when you’re literally in tears” Mon-El x Winn

Disclaimer: We’re very behind on this show now. Oops.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to invulnerable or something?” Winn mumbles, as if he hasn’t seen evidence to the contrary every other week.

Mon-El whines and clutches his elbow as he curls in on himself.

Winn sighs. “Let me see.”

Sniffling, Mon-El moves his hand aside and Winn bears witness to...a minor abrasion.

“This?” Winn asks. “This is what you’re whining about?”

“It hurts,” Mon-El moans and he pouts at Winn.

Winn feels his resolve crumble. After all, it had been a pretty big fight to do even this to Mon-El. He rolls his eyes, but he’s not sure if he’s disappointed in Mon-El or himself. “Want me to kiss it better?”

Almost immediately, Mon-El perks up. “Where will you kiss me?”

“I meant--” Winn gestures towards Mon-El’s arm but the wide eyes and coy smile he’s getting stop him in his tracks. “Screw it.” He leans down and just as his lips are about to land on Mon-El’s, Mon-El speaks up.

“I think the term here on Earth is ‘screw me,’“ and before Winn can properly scoff, Mon-El is pulling him down into a kiss.

In the end, Mon-El is right.

[allourheroes]

I’m drunk and I asked @mediamaniac23​ for a word for Steve/Tony and she said hangover???

W o w

Most days, Tony wakes up regretting the night before.

Whether it involved another human being or not, Tony generally has...regrets.

Now, he wakes up with an arm around his waste and for a second, it seems normal. It seems like the normal one-night-stand that Tony needs to detach and derail, but then the night comes flooding back.

It was...

He was...

He has to turn to look back to make sure it wasn’t all a dream, but no. He’s there.

Captain America, in all his glory.

Tony swallows and wonders how he managed to manipulate someone so pure into such a situation and shudders with the guilt that comes over him.

He thinks about how to wriggle out and allow Steve to forget this had ever happened, too.

But then Steve opens his eyes, slowly, and, for some reason, he smiles when he sees Tony.

“Good morning, Stark,” Steve says, and his voice is rough from sleep and amused and uncertain and perfect.

Tony’s hand clenches, but he smiles because Steve is smiling. “Morning.”

Then, Steve kisses him and it would be rude if Tony didn’t kiss him back, right?

[allourheroes]

@mediamaniac23 wanted Graves/Credence+”jewel” to make up for yesterday’s sadness.

It’s small and it doesn’t shine like the ones on the fingers of wealthy women with even wealthier husbands, but something in Credence feels like he has an even fiercer appreciation for the small gem that dangles around his neck.

“I can’t give you a ring,” Mr. Graves had told him, in one of his sweeter moments, then his gaze had gone serious. “But know that this means just as much.”

Credence had nodded, uncertain how to respond other than finger the stone reverently.

In an alleyway, where prying eyes can’t see their crime, Graves presses his hands to Credence’s cheeks, his lips to Credence’s lips, and sighs. “You’re special.”

The promise of the jewel hums over his heart. “We’re special,” he responds, and his voice only shakes a little.

Graves smiles a smile that belongs to him alone, far more precious than any diamond.

[allourheroes]

4 of ? you’ve been looking through the self-help section at a bookstore for at least 2 hours and this one employee keeps walking by looking more and more concerned every time Graves x Credence

Uhhhh. There were just so many ways this could’ve gone.

Modern AU | 577 | To Be Continued…?

The first time Credence walks by the self-help section, the man is looking at books on identity theft. He feels a stab of sympathy and moves on.

Unfortunately, the older man doesn’t.

The second time he walks by, it’s a book about stress management.

The third time, PTSD.

The fourth, alcoholism.

Then, sleep, relationships, learning to love yourself, and–

“Do you need something?” the man asks and Credence winces.

“I should be asking you that.” Credence clears his throat. “Sir.”

The man gives him a weird look, then his eyes dart to the nametag before he continues. “But you didn’t, Credence. That’s an odd name.”

Credence shrugs. “Ma was an odd lady.”

The man’s gaze sharpens. “Was?”

“I don’t speak to her anymore,” Credence tells him, shifting awkwardly. “Not that that’s your business.”

The man hesitates, runs a hand through his hair. “My apologies. I’m a detective and sometimes I just…can’t stop.” He offers a smile. “My name is Percival Graves.” He leans towards Credence conspiratorially, “But I prefer just ‘Graves.’”

“Well, Mr. Graves,” Credence starts, avoiding eye contact as he blushes. He’s still not good with conviviality of any sort. “I might be able to help you.”

“Oh?” Graves turns the book in his hand, returning it, and grazes through the shelf for another.

Credence puts his hand before Graves’s on the shelf. “Please,” he requests. He takes the book Graves had just put back and places it where it belongs. He ignores the light chuckle and continues, “What is it you’re looking for?”

“What would a handsome young man like you know about self-help?” Graves jokes, deflecting.

Credence shrugs. “I…” He starts, swallows. “Quite a bit,” he settles on finally.

Graves’s gaze checks him over and Credence’s lips quirk into an uncomfortable smile.

“So, sir, what do you need?”

Charmed by the young man’s quiet nature, Graves answers honestly. “I’m not exactly sure.”

Credence’s smile is a bit more genuine as he relaxes ever-so-slightly. He’s been tricked before. 

Graves lets out a sigh. “Any recommendations?”

With a moment of hesitation, Credence pulls a book from the shelf and hands it over. “This… This might be a better place to start.”

Graves smiles.

The conversation is awkward and parts of it are stilted, but it’s a while before Credence seems to see something over Graves’s shoulder.

He goes still. “I, uh. I should get back to work. Excuse me, sir. Mr. Graves.” And with that, he’s turning to go.

“Alright, I–” But Credence is already gone. “…Understand,” Graves continues, to himself.

Not five seconds later, he feels someone touch his shoulder and his hackles rise…until he realizes it’s just Tina.

“Was that Credence?” she asks, without preamble.

Graves starts to answer, but his brows furrow. “You know him?”

“That’s the boy we rescued from the Second Salem cult last year,” Tina explains, voice low. Her features haven’t gone soft, but rather hard and angry. “His foster mother used to beat him something terrible.”

“When you got suspended a few months ago–”

“Was when I nearly killed that evil woman,” Tina finishes.

Graves swipes a hand over his mouth. “Jesus.”

Tina shifts, clears her throat. “How is he?” Her tone has taken on a bit of an anxious whine, but Graves can understand why.

“Kind,” Graves replies, without thinking. “Helpful.” He swallows. “Hopefully single.” The guilt crashes over him the second the words leave his mouth, but it’s too late.

For some reason, Tina laughs.

It just doesn’t sound…happy.

[allourheroes]

@mediamaniac23, when pressured, prompted “sad” for Graves/Credence. As if that isn’t their reality???

100+

Mr. Graves, after all his kind words and whispered promises, had tossed Credence aside just like everyone else had.

And yet...when Credence finds himself again, he hopes to see that face.

He yearns to hear that voice.

He wishes with all his heart that those promises could come to fruition finally, that he still can find some new world. He imagines being led by rough hands that were once so gentle on his cheek, healing him.

So Credence returns to the places they met, watches the flowers wilt, waits until it hits him that there is nothing left.

Ma is dead.

Mr. Graves is gone.

And Credence allows himself to disappear, too.

[allourheroes]

@mediamaniac23 had wobbled between “jewel” and “pearl” for Graves/Credence so here’s one to make Pearl proud. (Sorry, Pearl.)

E is for e x p l i c i t. :)

Graves’s hand is firm against the back of Credence’s skull, keeping him down.

The pain in Credence’s knees as the grind into the grit and gravel of the ground is nothing compared to what he’s endured and this time, he has chosen to be here.

Graves groans and Credence hopes that he’s doing this right. All he wants is to please Mr. Graves. He knows he’s been a disappointment, so he puts his all into it, nearly loses himself in the wrongness of taking another man in his mouth, the weight of Graves’s cock on his tongue.

His gaze flickers up and he trembles at the heated look that is returned.

“Good boy,” Graves says. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you, Credence?”

Credence bobs his head faster, and it’s messy, but he doesn’t stop until Graves lets go of him and he starts to stumble.

Credence supports himself on the arm wrenched behind him and his mouth hangs open as he watches Graves take himself in hand and then he’s spilling warm and sticky over Credence’s chin, his throat.

Eyes shuttering closed, Credence comes, untouched.

[allourheroes]

3 of ? I don’t know if my wrist is broken but you are by far the hottest doctor I’ve ever encountered so I hope so. Brujay

More like (street) skateboarder Jason AU. Oops?

~350 words

Jason is sure he’s going to make the next jump until he really isn’t.

By this point, his skateboard is already skittering away and there’s gravel digging into his cheek and knees and palms and pain shoots up his wrist like fire.

“Fuck!” he screams at the impact, then draws in on himself. He takes a second to calm his breathing and tries to re-assess, but everything is stinging and he should be looking for his board and if he’s lost the board and how he’s gonna need money then and–

“Lose this?” a man in a suit asks him, and he’s holding Jason’s skateboard.

Jason blinks. “Yeah, uh.” He hesitates. Maybe it’s because he’s looking up into the sun, but the guy looks like a freaking god. “Thanks.” He lifts his hand to grab the board on instinct, but his wrist buckles as he tries to hold onto it.

Some part of him registers the concern on the handsome man’s face and a filthy thought passes through Jason’s mind before the guy is setting down the skateboard for him and reaching out examine his wrist.

“May I?”

Jason nods, slightly dazed, as the man starts to gently prod at his wrist and he hisses in pain when it turns.

The man hums. “What’s your name?”

Jason considers lying, but he doesn’t. “Jason.”

“Well, Jason, I’m Bruce.” And Jason’s thoughts catch on the name, niggling connections trying to make themselves known. “It’s not broken, but it may be sprained.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason says, squinting. Then it hits him. “You’re Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce’s eyes go wide for half a second before he turns his slight surprise into a smile and a rehearsed chuckle. “Caught me.”

A pause. “Man, I thought you’d be a major dick.”

This time, it takes Bruce a little longer to regain his composure. “Perhaps I am,” he suggests.

Jason takes a minute to appraise him more thoroughly, the throbbing in his wrist background noise. “Maybe,” he agrees with a shrug. He stands, finally, and smirks. “You’re not a hot doctor, but I’d still blow you.”

In that moment, Jason Todd witnesses a miracle: Bruce Wayne blushing.