#so i have to cover what she doesn't do and then i have to sit in a chair and listen to her mother (our boss) rant about how she has way

[prael]

Day 10: Gambit

Nmixx Lily x male reader smut

words: 3,300 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"Ah Fuck," Lily sighed, fiddling with her hair.

Stylists spent hours doing her hair, makeup, nails, clothes, all for the camera. Lily just knows how good she looked today. The stylists did their jobs, but she did hers too. She put her face into that angle that she knew drove people crazy. She is a professional, even if she wishes she wasn't.

She waited for hours backstage. Lily waited and waited. They all did. All of the group were just sitting there, in that green room, playing on their phones. There wasn't much to do except wait, take a nap, or eat snacks if the managers would let them. If Lily had her way, she'd eat nothing but those little chocolate-covered pretzels. “They're so good,” she always tells you.

Eventually, she had to get up on stage, stand around and smile. Then came the dance and the singing, that stuff. The usual routine, the usual performance, the same one they'd done hundreds of times. It was a dance that was burned into her muscle memory. She didn't have to think, it was like she wasn't even in control of her own body. She hit every fucking note like the pro that she is, and everyone cheered.

It's not that Lily is ungrateful. She is grateful! She knows she has a lot. But... she just couldn't help but feel a bit unsatisfied.

Like there is some huge hole inside her, and she just can't seem to fill it.

Like there's some other way she's supposed to be living.

The rest of the show goes as expected. People clap. Everyone takes pictures and videos. And they're off the stage. It's a short ride back to their apartment. They eat, they shower, they go to sleep.

Most of them do, anyway.

Lily is pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants. She is putting on a hat and pulling it low over her eyes before fitting a face mask over her mouth and nose. Lily doesn't look at herself in the mirror, and she leaves her phone in the apartment, keeping only her wallet on her as she leaves. She finds your car where it's always parked. Lily doesn't know what she'd do if you weren't waiting for her there.

"Hi, babe," you greet her. "Good day?"

"Yeah, sure," Lily grumbles, rolling her eyes. She is in a pissy mood, but that's nothing new these days. It takes time for her to adjust to being free again and to be happy now that you're around. She isn't angry at you. Lily's angry at everything else. She knows that you know that, too.

"What do you want to do?" You ask her.

"I just want to get drunk," she sighs. She's still in a bad mood. You know what will help with that.

You know it's not the answer. The bottom of a bottle never solves anything. Yet, you still took the time earlier in the day to pick up her favourite bottle of wine, and you know it's waiting for her at your apartment.

So that's where you take her. She's a little less tense once you get her inside. She's kicking off her shoes at the door, pulling off her mask and tossing it away, throwing off the hat, her hair falling free to her shoulders. Her eyes close, and she lets out a long sigh. It's almost like she can finally relax here. Like the tension can drain away and she can just... stop.

"Lily, babe, you know I love you so this comes from a good place, and I know you love singing and dancing, but you don't have to be an idol if it makes you so unhappy." You say to her. She's looking at you like she wants to scream at you. She knows that she can scream at you, that you'd take it. That's what she loves about you.

But she doesn't scream, Lily only contemplates what you have said. She takes her time, letting her anger subside, her body relax and her mind to calm down. "I can't just leave. I don't even want to leave. I just want a break." Lily doesn't know how else to put it. "Like, maybe if I got hurt, or sick, or even pregnant. They'd make me take time off."

You know that Lily is only half-serious, but she sounds like she's thought this over before, and she has.

"You'd be a cute mom." You tell her, and she is bright red in an instant, the blush on her cheeks darkening her face.

"Hell yeah, I can fulfil my dream of being a milf," Lily playfully says, and for the first time today, she cracks a genuine smile before heading for the wine rack. She quickly finds her favourite.

"I'll be the stay-at-home dad while mommy is out strutting her stuff on stage." You tease, wrapping your arms around Lily's waist, holding her from behind.

She chuckles and pours the wine into the glass. "Imagine the controversy too. A big middle finger to all those delulu fans." Lily is giggling to herself as she drinks. "That'd make it so worth it. They'd lose their minds."

"Everyone would go insane. An active idol having a kid? That'd be crazy." You add to the conversation. Lily is looking at you with this smirk that is so uniquely her. She looks a bit like the devil when she does it, but it is so fucking cute at the same time.

Lily turns to you with the straightest of faces. In an uncharacteristically deadpan tone, she says, "Put a baby in me." Her lips twitch. You know that she's fighting the urge to smile.

You can't help it. You laugh, and you kiss her. Lily's mouth is warm from the wine. She is sweet and fragrant. She tastes so damn good.

"Put a baby in me!" She laughs into your mouth, but she is still trying to kiss you, and you're still trying to kiss her. It's all very chaotic. Your hands are still on her waist, her fingers on her glass, and she's trying to press herself against you, and you're trying to press against her.

She puts down the wine and then her arms are around your neck. "Come on," she says between kisses, "let's make a baby." It's ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Lily knows it's ridiculous, but that's why it's funny, and why you're still kissing each other. Her fingers are running through your hair and you're grabbing at her ass. She's pulling away just to smile at you, and you can't help but smile back at her. Lily is a ray of sunshine.

"Fuck," she whispers as you lean in, and you kiss her again. "Come on," she repeats and then starts pulling at your shirt. You help her take it off, tossing it away, not caring where it lands. "We're gonna make a baby, right?" She's looking into your eyes, and you can see how eager she is. "You're gonna cum in me?"

The two of you are no strangers to a little bit of roleplay, but this feels like it has transcended the norm. It feels different, it feels real, it feels serious, even if it isn't. Is it?

"Yes," you say, kissing her neck. "Yes," you say, kissing her collarbones. "Yes," you whisper as you pull her hoodie up and over her head.

She's not wearing anything underneath. She's never been much of a fan of bras or underwear. You love seeing her like this, bare, naked. She has the most beautiful pair of breasts, the perfect size for her petite body. She is all smooth curves and long, elegant lines, like the figure of a woman that has been drawn and then come to life.

"I'm not joking," Lily whispers into your ear as she wraps her arms around you. Her soft breasts are pressing against you, and she is kissing you on your neck and shoulders. "I want a break. I'm so sick and tired of it." Her hot breath is in your ear and she gently bites the lobe. "I want to be a mother."

"Fuck, Lily..." You breathe as your hands slip into her sweats and find her ass. Firm flesh and smooth skin. Her hips press into your body, and her hand comes down to your cock. She's groping you through your pants and she is squeezing and rubbing and tugging, and it's making you so hard.

"It's not the first time we've talked about kids. We want one. Why wait?" She asks you as she slips her hand into your pants and grabs hold of your cock, pumping it. Lily's hands are so soft, so warm.

"It's insane. You could be forced to leave the group," you remind her. But you can feel it, too, that desire. It is growing in you, just as surely as you are in Lily's palm. It's like she's cast a spell over you and you're falling into some deep trance.

"I know," she groans into your mouth, "I wouldn't be the first to leave, though." She reminds you, her voice growing breathless and excited. Her eyes are half-lidded. You can tell how aroused she is, and it's only making you harder.

"You'd really risk it?" You ask, squeezing her ass.

"I need this." Lily insists, looking at you. Her eyes are pleading. You can't say no to that face. You'd do anything for her, and you'd never deny her anything.

She's pulling down your pants and your underwear at the same time, and she is sinking to her knees before you. Her hands are holding your cock, stroking and fondling, her fingers dancing over the length of your dick and the swell of your balls.

Lily is looking at you. Her lips are parted, her tongue running along them, leaving a trail of spit behind. "Please," she whispers, and then she's licking you, tasting you, teasing you.

Your fingers are threading through her hair and you are holding her head steady as you guide yourself into her mouth. You watch her lips wrap around your cock as she takes it in her mouth, inch by inch.

Her tongue is pressing against the underside of your dick as she slowly slides forward. Lily takes more and more of you into her mouth, the hot, wet, heat of her throat taking the very last inch. She moans around your cock and you feel her tongue swirling around you as you start thrusting. She is sucking and swallowing around your cock. You're watching her head bob as she works your length, taking you to the very base, her lips kissing your crotch. She pulls off of you and takes a deep breath and she looks at you. There is a trail of spit on her chin, connecting to your cock.

"I want a baby," Lily repeats. You don't think she has ever been so insistent on something before. Her hands come to your hips as she pulls you to her, and she takes your cock back into her mouth, sucking you and bobbing her head. She's taking you in all the way and gagging on your dick. Her eyes are closed as she focuses on sucking you off, and her fingers dig into your flesh as she holds onto you.

"You're going to be such a good mommy," you tell her, and you hear her moan in response.

Lily's head keeps bobbing and you keep thrusting, meeting in the middle. You are so deep down her throat, the tip of your cock kissing the back of it and you're throbbing. You're trying to weigh it up in your head, possibly the biggest decision of your life and it's fighting for brainpower with having your soul sucked out of your cock. It's hard to concentrate.

Lily's tongue swirls and her cheeks cave in as she sucks. Her eyes are open now, and she's looking up at you, pleading, begging for you to let her have her way. Even with your cock between them, the corners of her lips turn up into a smirk. She pulls away and gasps for air, saliva dripping down her chin.

She's still stroking you off as you groan and your legs tremble, but she isn't finished. Lily stands back up and looks you in the eye. She's still stroking your cock in her hands, pumping up and down. Her thumb rubs the tip, teasing and playing. "Put it in me, please."

"Are you sure about this?" You ask her one last time, but you're already pushing her sweatpants away from her hips, and down to the floor.

"Absolutely," Lily says and turns away. She bends over and braces herself on the kitchen counter, arching her back. Such a beautiful, elegant posture. The defined muscles of her back lead down to her cute, perfect ass. A smooth curve of soft skin, firm and pert, but inviting. Your hand comes down, caressing and squeezing that lovely ass. Her hips rock as she presses into your touch.

Lily reaches a hand back and her fingers find her pussy, rubbing and stroking. She is spreading her lower lips and showing off her wet hole. "I'm ready." She moans.

Your fingers slip into her cunt and you're thrusting, plunging into her. She is hot, and slick, her walls clenching. She feels amazing and you're desperate to get inside of her, to fuck her. Lily gasps and her hips rock against your hand as she pushes herself onto your fingers. Her hair swings wildly and her mouth is hanging open. Her breasts sway as her body writhes, her stomach flexing and her hips bucking.

"Fuck," she breathes, and her voice is low, and her tone is desperate. She is panting, her breath ragged and laboured. "Fuck me."

Your hand slips from Lily's pussy, leaving her feeling empty, wanting, needing more. Your hands come down to her hips and you're pulling her to you, your cock resting between her cheeks, hard and throbbing and aching to be inside her. "Tell me what you want." You insist. Your fingers dig into the flesh of her ass, spreading and revealing. You're rocking your hips, teasing her.

"I want you to breed me," she insists, craning her neck back to look at you. Her face is flushed. She is sweating. Her body is burning up, feverishly hot, her skin glistening and shining in the light. She looks so damn sexy, and she knows it. "Please, fuck a baby into me," she moans and turns back away, closing her eyes.

You line yourself up with her entrance, rubbing your tip against her. This is the final line, and once you cross it, there's no going back. You push yourself into her, her cunt spreading open for you as you sink in. She's tight around your cock, squeezing, milking, trying to pull you in.

Lily is gasping and moaning as you push into her, inch by inch. You reach the base of your shaft, her ass pressed against your body. "Yes!" She hisses. Her hands grip the counter, her fingers clawing into it.

"You like that?" You ask, and you begin to pull out of her.

"Please, more." She moans. "Please, fuck me," Lily begs.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as you hold her in place. Your hips are rocking, pulling back. You're leaving her, almost, only the head of your cock still inside of her, and you're pushing yourself back inside of her, fucking into her. Your pace is slow, but each thrust is powerful. She's squeezing and clenching, trying to pull you in further.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe," you promise, leaning down to whisper in Lily's ear as she lays over the kitchen counter, your bodies connected.

Lily moans, "Please," she gasps, pushing her hips back into your body as you thrust. "Breed me like the daddy you are." Her voice is low, her tone husky and breathless, and her words pure filth.

Your hand is coming down, smacking her on her ass and she is crying out, a sharp gasp of surprise. Her hips rock as she presses onto you, trying to meet your thrusts and pull you deeper inside of her.

"Fuck," she moans and you can hear the smile on her lips, and you're smacking her again, the loud slap of skin-on-skin ringing out in the room.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask, fucking into her, picking up speed and intensity. Your body is smacking against hers, and her body is shaking.

"Harder, Daddy," Lily moans. Your hand comes down, hitting her ass, leaving a mark on the firm skin. You're thrusting, pounding, pulling back and slamming into her again and again. Her hand comes back, reaching around, her fingers digging into your hips. She wants to keep you inside her. "Please, don't stop."

You are pushing into her, fucking her hard. Her breasts are shaking and her stomach is tensing, and her hips are bucking back and forth as you thrust in and out of her. Her hair is flying everywhere as she throws her head back, a look of ecstasy on her face. Her lips are parted, her tongue running across them as she pants. You know that she is close to orgasm. "Cum in me," Lily gasps. Her eyes are rolling back, her body shaking and her hips bucking, her pussy clenching and pulsing. She is on the verge.

You're so close, so very close, and you know that you're going to cum. Your balls are tight, and you're aching for release. Your cock is throbbing, your legs trembling. You can feel the pressure building inside you. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You grunt. Your thrusts become more and more intense, your fingers digging into Lily's flesh.

"Do it," she moans. "Fill me up, make me pregnant."

You thrust, pushing in as deep as possible and holding it there, and you cum. Your cock pulses, your balls twitching as your seed floods into Lily. Your cum spills out and fills her up. You keep thrusting, rocking your hips against hers as you keep shooting, and it feels like an endless stream, an eternity of bliss. There's a finality to it. This is it. You've committed. There's no going back. Lily's pussy is milking your cock, squeezing and clenching around it as you pump her full of cum. It feels so damn good.

"Oh, god," Lily groans, and her body is shaking, and she is crying out in pure bliss as she cums with your cock deep inside her. All of her muscles flex as she writhes in pleasure. She's gasping, panting, her body convulsing. You're not sure you've ever seen Lily cum so hard, so intensely. You're holding her, pulling her tight to your body, keeping her steady as she quivers.

"Fuck," she breathes as she finally calms down, her body going limp in your arms. You're both panting, catching your breaths. You're still inside of her, and she clenches her pussy around your softening cock. "We have to keep doing this. Until we're sure I'm pregnant."

It is a nice image. The two of you fucking over the kitchen counter, or in bed, or on the couch, every chance you get. Cumming raw into her pussy over and over again. And once she's got a baby in her, you can fuck like this some more, you can keep making her feel this way. You can be happy.

"Yeah, we do," you agree. This was the right choice, the only choice. You love her. "Come here, mommy." You tell Lily, and she is giggling as she turns and wraps her arms around your neck and kisses you.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Suprise bubs

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !non-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: who doesn't love suprise visits on important days.

The hum of a hairdryer echoed through the suite as I stepped quietly down the hall, my heart racing in anticipation. Paige had no idea I was here. She thought I was still back home, dealing with work and classes, completely oblivious to the fact that I had coordinated this entire surprise with her best friends. Today was one of the most important days of her life—the WNBA Draft—and there was no way I’d miss it.

I tugged my dress down a little, smoothing out the fabric. It was pink, flowy, and entirely different from the oversized hoodie I’d been wearing when I left the airport hours earlier. My heels clicked softly against the tile as I stopped outside the door to her suite.

“Is she almost ready?” I whispered to Nika, who peeked out of the door.

Her eyes lit up as she nodded. “Perfect timing, ma. She’s almost done. You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Born ready,” I whispered, grinning.

Nika chuckled, letting me slip inside. The scene was chaotic but organized—Paige sat on a stool near the window, her hair being curled as Azzi and KK lounged on the couch nearby, chatting about the draft. The room smelled like strawberries and Nutella, her favorite snack, which she held in her lap, too preoccupied to notice me sneaking in.

I took a deep breath, letting my nerves settle, and leaned casually against the doorframe. “Wow, P. I didn’t know they made statues that moved.”

Paige’s head snapped up, her wide blue eyes locking on mine. The spoonful of Nutella she’d been holding froze mid-air, and her jaw dropped. “Baby?”

“Surprise,” I said, smirking as I walked toward her.

She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over the plate of strawberries. “Ma, what—how—what are you doing here?” Her voice was filled with disbelief, and she blinked rapidly as if making sure I was real.

“It’s our anniversary, isn’t it?” I said, stopping in front of her and tipping my head back to meet her gaze.

Paige wrapped her arms around me, lifting me slightly off the ground. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy about you,” I teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

She set me down gently, her hands lingering on my waist. “You didn’t have to fly out. You’ve got so much going on.”

I cupped her face, brushing my thumb along her jawline. “I’m not missing this, P. This is your dream, and I’ll always be here to support you.”

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” Nika said, throwing a pillow at us.

“Jealous?” I shot back, laughing as Paige pulled me closer.

“Maybe,” Nika muttered, but she was grinning.

Paige tugged me toward her stool, sitting back down and keeping one hand in mine. “You really didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I said, leaning against the counter. “How’s the glam going? You look good, bubs.”

“Thanks, mamas,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “They’re almost done, I think.”

I grinned. “Well, good. Gotta make sure my girl looks perfect when she goes number one.”

“Stop,” she groaned, covering her face with her free hand. “You’re gonna jinx it.”

“Never,” I teased, winking at her stylist. “But maybe add a little extra blush. She looks so cute when she’s all flushed.”

“Baby,” Paige whined, her face now fully red.

“What?” I said innocently, laughing as she shook her head.

When her glam session was done, Paige stood and turned to me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You look beautiful, ma.”

“Thanks, P,” I said, doing a little spin for her. “Gotta make sure I’m worthy of being your plus-one.”

“You’re always worthy,” she said softly, pulling me in for a kiss.

The draft was a whirlwind of emotions. I held Paige’s hand tightly as her name was called first, the room erupting in cheers. She turned to me immediately, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We did it, baby,” she whispered, squeezing my hand.

“No, you did it,” I said, kissing her quickly before she headed to the stage.

Watching her stand there, holding up her new team’s jersey with that million-watt smile, filled me with so much pride I thought my heart might burst.

After the draft, Paige had arranged for a private dinner to celebrate both her achievement and our anniversary. She led me into a quiet, candlelit restaurant, her hand never leaving mine. When we reached our table, my eyes widened. A massive bouquet of flowers sat waiting for me, a mix of roses, lilies, and peonies.

“Paige,” I breathed, looking up at her.

“Happy anniversary, ma,” she said, leaning down to kiss me. “Thank you for being my rock. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

I smiled, blinking back tears. “You’re gonna make me cry, P.”

“Good,” she teased, pulling out my chair for me.

Later that night, as we lay curled up on the couch back in her hotel suite, Paige pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, snuggling closer.

“Posting this,” she said, showing me an Instagram story. It was a picture of me from dinner, holding the bouquet of flowers. The caption read: Draft day, anniversary, all with my forever girl. 💜

“Paige,” I whispered, my heart swelling.

“It’s time, baby,” she said, pressing her forehead to mine. “The world deserves to know who I’m doing all of this for.”

I kissed her softly, letting the love I felt for her speak for itself.

That night, as her post flooded with likes and comments, I realized just how lucky I was to have her—not as a superstar, but as my P.

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! First off I just want to say I love your fics and have been reading for a few months and would like to request a fic.

Can you do a Rockstar!Eddie smut fic with Reader. So basically he's on tour for a few months and has been in (some other state or country), for a month. His last show is in Hawkins and she's in the crowd supporting him or whatever and when they get home he shows how much he's missed her 😏😏

First off, hi, and thank you so much! Second, I absolutely love rockstar!eddie!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, use of nicknames (princess, sweetheart, baby, daddy)

Eddie is due home any minute. You know that the time he gave you when he's supposed to touch down might not be one hundred percent accurate, but you're still hoping that it is. You haven't seen him in months even though you were supposed to go see him in Chicago but it never ended up working out.

He's called every night before bed but it hasn't been the same. You want him to hold you in his arms and kiss you until you're both breathless before he takes you to your bedroom where you both make up for lost time.

Eddie's feels the same. He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he left the loneliness because you weren't there really got to him. He missed you more than he ever thought possible, even more so when he watched his bandmates take girls back to their hotel rooms while he went back to his and called you because of how badly he needed to talk to you.

They even did a few interviews in between shows to promote their new album and he always jumped at the chance to talk about you whenever you were brought up. You're his favorite thing to talk about so of course he's going to yap about how amazing he thinks you are and how much he misses you. He's made loving you his entire personality and that's never going to stop.

You hear a key turn on the door and you race over to it, ripping it open before Eddie can and throwing yourself into his arms where he's quick to catch you. He moves inside the house and spins you around before pressing his lips to yours. It's tender and sweet despite your need for each other.

He carries you over to the couch where he lays you down, tossing his back down and grabbing a box of condoms from his duffel bag and taking off his clothes in record speed. He watches you do the same before he straddles your waist, staring down at you with a mixture of love and lust in his honey eyes.

"So fucking pretty," he sighs as he leans down and covers his lips with yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he does so. "Did you get prettier while I was gone?" He asks as his lips move down to your neck, peppering the spot with kisses before giving it a teasing nibble.

"No," you shake your head. "But I think you."

"Shit, sweetheart, are you coming onto me?" He asks with a wink and you respond by pushing him down so he's flat against the mattress.

"That is why I got naked for you, is it not?"

"God, I love when you take charge, but right now, this is about you," he tells you as he sits up and you follow. "Now lie back, honey, and let me work." You do as he says and he hovers over you, each of his hands taking hold of one of your knees as he spreads your legs wide to get a look at what he's working with.

"Wow, you really missed me," he teases as he gets look at your soaking wet pussy. "But don't worry, daddy's here now to take care of you."

"Please," you whine and he lowers himself down onto you as he pushes his fingers inside you, wincing as he does so.

"So fucking tight. Need me to stretch you out, sweetheart?" You need him so badly that you're about to start crying.

"God, yes," you nod and Eddie begins to pump his fingers slowly to warm you up, but you want more. You need more.

"Faster," you demand. "Harder." Your eyes go dark on the last word and Eddie quick to obey. He's usually the one to take the reigns but that doesn't mean that he doesn't listen when his girl vocalizes what she wants. He's always eager to please.

"Whatever you say, princess," he says as he picks up the pace and you're already clenching around his fingers, holding onto him for dear life as his fingers fuck you fast and hard, the prettiest sounds falling from your lips as he does so.

His fingers curve, hitting just the right spot and you're already orgasming which Eddie thinks has to be a record of some sort, but he supposes that it makes sense since he hasn't done anything like this to you in months.

His fingers are still going, though as he watches you come undone underneath him. And he thinks this is the prettiest he's ever seen you.

"Okay," you breath. "Need your cock now." You already look absolutely spent, but who is Eddie to deny you of what you want? He trusts you enough to know how much you can take. And if it was really a problem, he'd say something.

"You still want it fast and hard, sweetheart?" He asks as he removes his fingers, putting them into his mouth to get rid of the slick before quickly rolling on the condom.

"Please," you whine again and without hesitation, he pounds into you, his fingers digging into your skin as you scratch down his back.

He's not hesitating to insert all of himself, knowing that you can take it. You're clenching around him as tears prick your eyes, so much pain coursing through you as the last inch slides in, but you think you like it.

"Look at you," he says through labored breaths. "Taking me so well. Shit, you're so hot, baby." He continues to pound into you as more moans pour from your mouth and Eddie knew you liked rough sex, but not like this. He's afraid that he's going to hurt you, but considering the sounds you're making, he doesn't think that's true.

You're already starting to fade, your words slurring as you reach your next orgasm, your somehow loudest moans yet spilling out. As you're coming down, you're still begging for more, but Eddie thinks it's time to call it quits.

"More," you whine as he pulls out.

"Maybe in the morning," he replies before disposing of the condom then holds his hands out for you to take. "Now c'mon, baby, time for bed." You hesitantly take his hands and he carries you to your room, leaving your discarded for the morning as he's getting tired himself.

The two of you don't even bother putting on pajamas as you climb into bed, your bodies pressed together, bare skin to bare skin as you both murmur "I love you's" before drifting off into a much needed sleep as you're both in your favorite place again: each other's arms.

[ainnur]

"Pink and Yellow Cover The Pain" -Fanfic

Sumary : After being possesed by Lady Bone Demon, Bai He have white stroke on her hair. She hated how it look because it make her look like old lady and so much like the Bone Demon herself. Then she ask Wukong for help and Wukong help her cover the white hair...

A/N : Soooo Im not really a writer I just wrote this for fun so there will be some mistake. And my english kinda shitty. This base of my au "What Still Frozen au". Character can be Ooc

"Pink and Yellow Cover The Pain " -by Ainnur

"Have you done this before?"

"Nope, I never even touch a hair dye before, can you belive that?"

Hearing that Bai He isn't actually sure how to feel about it. On one hand, she actually scare to let this happend but on other hand, she just doesn't care anymore. What else could Bai He lost? Her hair already demaged real bad because of the Bone Demon and Bai He is forever piss about it.

To put it simple, Bai He loved her hair so much. She loves brushing and styling it however she want and it will look cute. Thanks to her cousin Ayu who always press on how important the hair care is, Bai He able to keep her hair healthy for a long time. Her hair is long like her mother and have a colour of her dad's. What used to be soft and silky beautiful hair now letf dry and kinda dead. No matter what she do, it just seem that she can't bring her old back. She hates that.

Another thing is, being Lady Bone Demon host body left her with ugly white stroke of hair. Not only it make Bai He look like old lady, it make Bai He look like more the Bone Demon herself. Bai He know it just make sense that Bone Demon make Bai He look like be when using her body like a puppet. That old demon bitch... That just make her hated her hair even more and want to get rip of it.. She decide to tell Wukong about it and ask his opinion. He'll understand right? Afterall, he got same white stroke of hair like her. Even he dont understand, he will help her and she just know it. She didnt expect this...

💕

Bai He take a big gulp of water and huff in satisfaction. Right now she at Pigsy's Noddle with Wukong sitting next to her. It's somehow become their little thing to just eating noddle and talk about random things. Bai He enjoy this simple times with Wukong and she always get to eat delicious noddle that Wukong always pay for her. Wukong doesn't seem to mind and Bai He won't complain about it. Why would she? We talk about free food!

Bai He take a look at Wukong who seem lost in thought while waiting for his noddle to cold down. That one thing Bai He notice about Wukong. He always waits for any of his food to cold down. It's not just cold down enough that you can eat the food when is still warm , no, Wukong waited until all the heats is completely gone. Where the enjoyment of that?? But again not like Bai He would say anything about it. If Wukong like his food like that, who is she to judges loudly?

"Umm...you good kid? You kinda looking at me for solid 3 minutes now. Did I have something on my face?" Wukong's voice able to pull Bai He back from her thought.

"No. You're fine Monkey King " Bai He actually double check Wukong's face to make sure of it.

"It's just...." Bai He take few breath try to form a right sentence to tell Wukong. Few seconds pass as Wukong wait for her to tell him whatever she in her mind right now.

"I hate my hair...." Saying that, she get Wukong full attention as he push his bowl of noddle aside wanting to actually hear her.

"I hate what she done to my hair and how it make me look like....Her.. And I just want the damage to be gone." She grab her hair a bit on her palm not actually looking at Wukong as she focus on her hair right now. It's silence for seconds as Wukong try to process what Bai He just tell him.

"Well you can cut it-"

"No" she cut Wukong words fast

"I don't want to cut it.I just...cant..part of with didnt allowed that." Bai He cant actually explain why she didnt want to cut it, she just know she attach to it.

"I just want to 'cover' it like you..." Bai He words stiff while she looking at Wukong this time. Other thing Bai He know about Wukong is that Wukong uses magic thing call glamours or something to hide his real appearance to other. Even from MK. He cover the white stroke of hair using that and make his hair look normal. Bai He is silently jealous of that ability of Wukong because how is that fair? Why he can just look how ever he want with snap of finger and she just cant? Oh how she wish she have the ablity too.

"I get an idea!" Wukong said with smile planning something in his head. Oh boy....

💕.

That bring us to now. Both Bai He and Wukong is walking to her bathroom after Wukong show up next day with big bag full with hair dye. Hair dye .....Why Bai He didn't about that sooner?! Maybe she so stress and that just didnt cross her mind. Bai He was suprise when she saw the bag full with different colours of hair dye boxs for first time when Wukong show up.

"I don't know what colour you prefer so I just bring everything and let you choose " Wukong simply said that and leave Bai He watching him with unbeliveable face. This monkeyyyyyy.

"Well..you like pink, right?" Wukong asks with a smile, holding a box pink hair day in his hand. He right about that, Bai He loves the colour pinks. It's remind her of her cousin who like wearing pink. In other words, pink is pretty colour. Some people would say that pink is not a real colour as it is just shade of red. They were right about that but Bai He doesn't care, It's pretty and that only thing matter. Pink could be lovely colour that bright up the mood but it also can be sickening when it's to much

"Yeah, I want pink" She decide on that with smile. If anything happend it happend and Bai He could not careless. Wukong only respon saying she make a great choice and preparing the dye. While Wukong busy, Bai He want to go through the bag again and that when she notice something is moving inside. "Little monkey!?" Yeah one of Wukong's subject follow Wukong hear in the bag. The little monkey then went to his king and climb on his shoulder. Wukong gigle for a bit and let the little monkey mix the hair dye. "Careful now little one" Wukong remind the monkey. Bai He watching everything with awe and get her attention back to the bag.

Inside of the back she find another colour, yellow. But with specific shade.... It's yellow but not just any yellow, it's have a bit of orange hue in it making it look more golden. It's Wukong type of yellow. Bai He dont know much about colour theory but the colour do remind her of Wukong. This yellow colour bring warm feeling to Bai He. It's provide comfort for Bai He with the bright and fun nature of the colour.

"I want this colour too" Bai He said without thinking. Wukong simply agree with her and Bai He cant help but smile at Wukong. Everything he did right now is for her and she really appreciate it. Colouring her hair with both colour would be fun. But again she didnt want to colour whole head, just the ugly white stroke. Will it look good? They'll find out about that later.

💕

"You sure, you never done this before?" Bai He ask suspicious with Wukong's skill right now. That monkey really tell her that he never dying people hair before but the way Wukong doing staff right now say the opposite.

"Yeahhhhh.....look Im gonna come clean. I watched few video online last night of how to dye hair and tried to do it on my own clone for a bit. " Last night...... Wukong learned to do everything by only a night. Not to mention he just learned it from some video online! Bai He she shouldn't question Wukong ability but to learn something THAT quick is just insane for her.

"Of course and now you're a hairdresser" Bai said sacasticly. Yeah, she bit jealous of that ability, who wouldnt? Wukong just laugh awkwardly at her comment. He so focus on working on Bai He hair with little help from the small monkey to actually say anything as Bai He sit in bathtub.

Bai He herself dont know what Wukong is doing but she trust Wukong completely. Even if everything didnt turn out well she know Wukong would think about something to fix it. Yup, no worry at all. She let Wukong and little monkey pull her hair and wrap it with aluminium foil that Wukong summon using his hair. The smell of hair dye kinda bad and strong.

💕

They have to wait for an hours as the box said. During that time all 3 of them do is watching some random drama from Bai He's phone to kill time. The drama actually good as all of them focus on the phone and not talking at all.

"No offend Monkey King but that women kinda remind me of you" She look at Wukong and back to her phone. The little monkey nod hearing that

"What do you mean?" Wukong raise a eyebrow because that women look nothing like him and many way.

"Both have shitty taste of man" Bai He answers him fast and she can hear Wukong gasping and little monkey cover it mouth.

" ExCuUsE you, I have FINE taste of man"

"Bullshit. You dated Macaque that say everything about you!!"

"Come on! That not fair!" Wukong pout at that. They bicker a bit with Wukong try to defend his pout taste in man and little monkey siding Bai He in this bickering.

After an hour it's finally time to wash off the dye. Wukong let Bai He do it herself as he take a towel for her. Bai He watch the leftover dye going down to the tub's hole. The pink and yellow colour get mix together creating redish-orange colour. Later she that the towel Wukong give her and dry her hair off.

Bai He take deep breath as she preparing herself to look at mirror again. These past few she isnt doing well looking at mirror because she keep seeing HER. There is still cracks from where she punch the mirror. She still remember how worry Wukong is that time and everything was a mess.. Blood dripping from her fist and some stick to broken mirror. It was Wukong who help her treat the wound. But that is another story. Finally after have courage to look at mirror, Bai He eyes go wide seeing her own reflection.

"Sooooo...do you like it,kid?" Wukong ask softly while having little monkey on his shoulder. Bai He take a look at herself again at her broken mirror that she punched. The white hair stroke is now cover with pink and yellow colour. Both colour stand out from her original black hair.

"I..LOVE it!" Bai He is being honest. In her opinion, the colour was great combo and she love how it look so much. Her eyes sparkels as she see no more of white hair. Lady Bone Demon look nothing like her right now. Did Lady Bone Demon have have a sick and cool pink and yell hair stroke? No, she doesn't .

"Thank you so much, Monkey King!!" Bai He said happily as she hugs her mentor hard

"Anytime, kid" Wukong smile and hug her back. She then let go of Wukong and take out her phone fast as want she talking picture with her new hair colour and Wukong. Everything turn out fine and Bai He couldnt be more happy.

END :3

Thanks for reading! Everything about the au is under "What Still Frozen au" tag. You also can ask me anything about the au or idea for them or other things

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 3

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why. It's not what he expected.

A/N: The end of this chapter was partly inspired by @grogusmum. She knows what she did. And if she doesn't, it's illustrated afterward.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my very very fluffy--in all senses of the word--tale. I had to. I just had to.

PART 1, PART 2

“Hey-ey-ey,Greedy!” Fink laughed as he called out to Farrah, her tail and back feet hanging out of the hollow of a dead tree trunk. “Just because I gave you the first turn doesn’t mean you get to eat it all! I want some! My turn! My turn!”

Farrah backed out of the hollow and down the grey stump, honey sticking to her whiskers and snowy ear tips, her front paws covered in the golden goo. “Sorry! I got carried away! I’ve never had anything like it. There’s plenty left…I think…”

Distracted by the remnants on her paws, the white fox began to clean them up, eyes wide, still in awe of the sweetness Fink had introduced her to. It was almost a contest as to what was going to win his attention–the honey hive, or Farrah’s dainty licking–but like any fox, food won out and he was shoulders deep in the tree trunk before his heart had any say in the matter.

Once he was gorged on the stuff, Fink skittered his way out from the hollow and joined Farrah in the grass. It was her turn to wait while he cleaned his own paws, but being familiar with honey, he was far less of a mess than she had been. One, two, licks of his paws and then–

He hadn’t meant to do it, but he was a fox. He did foxy things. And that meant not thinking when it came to food. It wasn’t until Farrah was ducking away from him, putting some distance between them, that he realized what he’d done.

He’d instinctually gone to lick the honey off her ears. 

Now she crouched, cowered, alert, her bright eyes–one light, one dark–wide and peering back at him over her brush of a tail, and he could sense the spring that was building in her legs, her heart running as hard as her feet wanted to–

He was suddenly almost as scared as she was. “Sorry! I just– I only– your ears…” The only thing he could think to do was back up. Sit down. Her eyes were still moons in the white sky of her face.

After a couple of months on the island, she was still skittish, still easy to startle. Fink had done everything to make her feel at home, done everything he could do to show her she was under no threat here. She was quick to play with the raccoons and had even fallen asleep on Thorn’s big fat bear belly once or twice on a chilly evening.

But somehow, Fink still spooked her. Maybe he just saw it more since they spent so much time together. Or maybe he was too quick, too rough. Or maybe….

…maybe she didn’t want him to get close in that way.

He could feel his shoulders hunching, his ears drooping, and with them, he sensed a slackening of Farrah’s tension.

“Sorry, Fink, you just… I…” Stepping slowly, she stopped halfway to him and sat, nervous, avoiding his eye. “Guess I’m just a mess. I didn’t realize I still had hummy on my ears.”

Normally he would have laughed. They would have laughed together. “Honey.”

“Heh. Honey.”  A little breeze shifted the grass and Farrah made an attempt at a playful sneeze, but it was half-hearted. “You can…clean my ears if you want to…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, just as half-heartedly. “You wanna go down to the shore and take a swim? I don’t want to be sticky all day. Ants.”

“Sure.”

She led the way now, more confident in her path about the island and he followed, although feeling as if he was dragging his heart behind him.

He remembered how much it hurt when Brightbill flew away for the winter, but it was a good hurt, because they would see each other again.

And he remembered how much it hurt when Roz left the island. That one hurt in a different way because he knew he may never see her again, but he had good memories, and he knew that he had friends and a good life because of what she did for them all.

But this was a hurt he didn’t recognize. It was like the hurt he used to feel when nobody wanted him around, the hurt he learned to ignore, the hurt he used in order to become clever and figure out the very best ways to get exactly what he wanted. Similar, but not the same. 

Because that pain was borne out of the rejection of everyone. Like sleeping on a bed of pinecones.

This ache could not be ignored or pushed away.

Being rejected by one special someone in particular, he was learning, was much worse, like sleeping on one particularly spiky pinecone.

With one, big jagged spike.

Pressing right against his heart.

“Look! Your favorite!” Farrah came trotting out of the water to him where he sat on shore, feebly scrubbing his paws in a tidepool, and laid a huge clam at his feet, its bulk almost too big for her smaller jaw. He nodded, but kept scrubbing. A crab scuttled past as a larger wave lazily slapped the rocks behind her, the water dull under a hazy, late spring sky. “Fink?”

The thought just fell out of his mouth. “You really never thought about finding a…a mate?”

Farrah blinked, eyes wide again. This time he could tell it wasn’t with the instinct to flee, but he could hear her heart racing all the same. “I… no. Where I’m from, nobody would take me.”

He wanted to run away, scared of what he was feeling, scared of what he might say, what she might say, what might happen to their friendship, but couldn’t stop himself. “But, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. And things are different here. Everyone’s a little different here and…and…just because you… your…” He couldn’t keep his tail from twitching, his claws making little arpeggios in the sand, his tongue babbling away without him, “I like your fur. It’s not practical but it’s beautiful, it catches the sun. It’s a part of you and I like you so you don’t have to worry about being different or the runt of the litter here. I think it’s a miracle you’ve made it, it means you’ve had to be strong and smart and you’re–”

“My fur?” A tilt of Farrah’s head showed initial confusion. “What’s wrong with my fur?” And then just the hint of her ears leaning back, a paw pushing at the sand as if bracing for a fight, her tail curling around herself again. “Who said I was a runt? I’ll have you know I was the second biggest kit of my litter.”

Now it was Fink’s turn to blink in surprise. “But.. no one said, it’s just… you are on the small side so I just thought you might–”

“Wait. Fink,” she calmed then, a realization breaking over her, her spine straightening, ears perking up. It was one of the rare moments they’d had together where he was able to look her in the eye and she didn’t back down, where suddenly she was allowing him in and he felt suddenly hopeful. Did she just hear what he said? Was she just realizing how he felt? Did she like him too? He swallowed hard, anticipating what she would say next.

It was much different than what he expected.

“Have you…never met a winter fox?”

The words pushed through him, trying to find a place to settle into meaning. “Winter? Fox?”

“Yeah. A snowy fox. Like me.” When he could only stare blankly, she smiled sadly. “Oh, Fink. There are different kinds of foxes where I’m from! I’m a winter fox. We’re all white like this and smaller than the forest foxes. We don’t usually mix with the forest foxes because…” here she looked down at her little white paws making a delicate triangle in the sand, “forrest foxes hunt winter foxes. They’re brutal predators. They..they eat us.”

Whaaaaaat??? “WOWWWUH,” Fink breathed, aghast at this breaking news, happy for her to have escaped that peril. “They sound like huge jerks. You’re better off here without ‘em.”

She lifted her head then and a light huff fell out of her, it was nervous and hesitant, and thinking she was laughing, he was momentarily proud of lightening her mood. Until she said, “Fink…you’re a forest fox.”

There would be few more profound moments in Fink’s life than standing on a shifting shore, learning that he had yet another fate in the world, an alternate place where he could have lived a completely different life, one that could be seen by someone other than himself. 

He sat in shock and looked at her. She was so small, so vulnerable. He himself was half again her size. She was fast, but he was faster and could easily outrun her and catch her if he wanted to. She would often bring him shellfish to open for her and then watch in something like awe as he crushed it easily in his jaws.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t awe. Perhaps it was horror.

He was starting to understand that his heart could break twice in one lifetime. Maybe twice in one day.

He needed time to stand still for a minute so he could gather his thoughts, fix this somehow, assure her that he wasn’t like the foxes she’d known, make her see, he wasn’t like the forest foxes that she’d known, he would never, if only the waves would stop crashing and the geese would stop honking–

Honking! The geese! The geese were returning! Brightbill!

Fink was up and turning on the spot, watching the incoming flock, but also agitated by the interruption, unable to stop himself. “Farrah, I… can you… can you hold that thought? I’m sorry, I just–” And without waiting for her, he ran. 

He couldn’t remember being faster, needing to run faster, faster, his blood rushing in his ears. The flock would land just down the shore near by and he found a spot close enough to the treeline so as not to spook the ones that didn’t know him, but still out on shore enough to be seen. And then he danced. 

He couldn’t help himself. Bounding in a circle, paws tap tapping the wet sand, he yelped like a pup in with its tail caught, and sure enough, an orange-tufted bird broke from the group and came straight for him, dive-bombing him out of the sky, goose and fox colliding in a poof of feathers and fur and rolling and laughter as Brightbill made a triumphant return to the island.

“Hey, buddy! You came back!”

The goose laughed. “It’s spring. Where else would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You could fly anywhere. I’m sure there are tons of islands better than this one.”

“Yeah, but none of them have a Fink.”

Fink grinned, the familiar fondness for his friend doing some soothing work on his aching heart. “How was the trip?”

“Long. Who’s that?” Brightbill tipped his beak to the treeline, and Fink followed his gaze to the flash of white ducking behind a tree.

“Oh. She’s new. Farrah! Hey!” he called to her and her little face appeared around the trunk. “Brightbill’s home! Come meet the kid!” Trotting toward them, she looked warily side to side at the arriving population on the shore, and he lowered his voice to give the goose advice he couldn’t yet accept himself, “She washed up half-drowned a couple of months ago. Still kinda shy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Brightbill turned to the crowd and honked, calling to a large, long-necked and ruffle-feathered gander who was chatting up a gaggle of ladies. The gander immediately turned and closed the distance, winging over to their little family group and settling next to them, much more gently than his mass would have led anyone to suppose. “This is my…ah… my nesting partner, Crusher.”

“Fink, yes?” Crusher honked, husky and low. “Charmed.”

“He’s joining us from another flock this year.”

Crusher chuckled and ribbed Brighbill. “Might stay forever at this rate.”

The smaller goose couldn’t help but blush. “You mind if he stays in the hut with me?”

Fink smiled, a rush of happiness for his little fledgling–all grown up–tempered only by the awkwardness every parent feels when they bring their sweetheart to visit. “Absolutely! You can have the best bed in the place.”

“What?” Brightbill flinched. “Your bed? Are you sure you’re Fink?”

Fink shrugged and leveled his shoulders, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a great guy. Fantastically generous. Full of surprises.”

“That last part’s true for sure.” Brightbill turned to Farrah. “I assume you’re responsible for this show-off’s drastic change in behavior?”

“Hey!” Fink protested, but Farrah laughed her wondrous, loud laugh and introductions and welcomes were made. He watched her as she warmed to his adopted family and before long they were trotting back to the hut, many of their friends there to meet them, having heard the flock arriving from the south.

The rest of the day had a general family reunion atmosphere. Thorn bumbled off into the trees and came back with an entire wild raspberry bush he’d yanked out of the ground, heavy with a spring crop. The raccoons brought up snails from the woods and clams from the beach. Pinktail brought in this season’s club of little rascals who all got a fast and low ride on Crusher’s back over the surrounding treetops. Before long, the fireflies were coming out, lighting up the grasses in the clearing around the hut and Thorn had started a warm fire inside.

It was there that Fink was listening intently to Crusher’s tale of home, the shoreline where he grew up. Since meeting Farrah, Fink had become increasingly interested in learning how different and yet the same so many other places were. It was like he learned something new about the world every day.

Like the fact that there were foxes in the world that were even bigger jerks than he was.

Or than he used to be.

He scanned the hut–quieter now as many of the young animals were nodding off and cuddling with their mamas who in turn were engaged in low, pleasant conversation by the light of the fire. At first he thought Farrah might have left, the crowd too much for her, but then he caught the moonlight glow of her fur through the doorway out in the clearing, Brightbill at her side. They were deep in conversation–Brightbill doing most of the talking and Farrah watching him intently–and Fink felt a little contented spark of loving happiness as he watched them bond.

After a while, Brightbill waddled into the hut toward Fink’s precious, beloved, grassy nest, drowsy and sighing. “It’s been a day. Did you really mean it? Can we bed down here?”

Fink sighed, pulling back the sass he was so accustomed to leaning on, just this once. “Yeah, kid. I mean it. You two have had a long journey. Take a load off. I’m just glad you’re home. You want me to shoo everyone out of here so you can sleep?”

“Nah,” the small goose shook his head, his eye wandering across the line of pictures Roz had created of him not so very long ago. “We’re used to sleeping in a crowd. And it’s nice to hear the voice of friends.”

Once Brightbill and Crusher were comfortable–heads tucked under wings, Crusher’s free wing almost completely covering the smaller goose–Fink wandered out into the clearing where Farrah sat under the stars. She was staring up at the moon as she often did on nights like this, most likely thinking about her family and how no matter the distance between them, they still had the same night sky.

“Mind if I sit?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to watch his every move, just kept watching the twinkling of the stars. “Not at all. It’s a nice night. Quiet. Calm.”

Mindful of what he now knew of her past, he kept his distance, but still where she could see him and feel safe just out of reach. Fink looked up to the big, silvery moon, round-faced and kind. It reminded him of a certain robot he once knew.

“He’s a great kid, clever and kind,” she said after a long silence. “You really raised him right.”

Fink scoffed and winked at the moon. “It wasn’t really me who raised him.”

“That’s not how he sees it. He thinks Roz was great, but she couldn’t have done it without you. You’re just as important to him that way. He told me so many stories.”

Digging at a spot in the ground, he did his best not to look too interested. “Yeah? Anything…good?”

She laughed then, softer than usual, but still winning the prize for his very favorite sound in the world. Standing, she came closer and Fink kept still, trying not to breathe too fast as she sat as his side, shoulder to shoulder. She was warm. She smelled like raspberries and snails and something else…something intoxicating. “Well, good enough.”

“So he convinced you I’m not going to eat you.”

“Something like that.”

Ah. He’d have to remember to thank the kid later.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Fink. I didn’t know you didn’t know about–”

“Why do you think nobody would have you?”

Farrah blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said where you were from, nobody would want you. I can’t imagine the kind of idiots you must have grown up around.”

She smiled then, a little sadly, turning her gaze to her paws. “My eyes. Nobody wants a mate with mismatched eyes. They assume I’m blind or can’t see as well as them, that because of it I wouldn’t be able to survive or I’d pass it down to their kits who'd have trouble surviving. It’s not true, but I don’t stand a chance against another vixen with matching eyes. That's nature. I just kind of accepted it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fink gasped. “Your eyes? But they’re amazing! They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re–” and then he faltered as she looked up hopefully at him, those bright eyes–one light and one dark–bewitching and so very distinct. And suddenly, all the fear and snark left him as he felt himself turning to pure, dopey goo. “--they’re…beautiful.”

She snuggled into his shoulder then, finally giving in, her tail coming to rest over his, wrapping herself around him. And he marveled at how fast a broken heart can heal up. As if it had never been hurt at all.

Yeah. He was really gonna have to thank that kid.

“I think I’d like to go curl up in bed,” she said, finally breaking free and turning back toward the hut where the warm orange light spilled over the snoring bulk of their bear friend and the nearby soft pile of sleeping geese. “You coming?”

“Ah, I gave my bed to the kids. I’ll probably just sleep in the grass tonight.”

She smiled, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No you won’t. Not when there’s plenty of room in mine.”

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep for joy. Not with his kid home again. Not with all of his friends so close by. Not with his nose buried in the fur of Farrah’s shoulder or the curve of her slumbering body curled up around his own. Not with his heart beating as broadly as it was.

But he did. He slept. Soundly. And well.

____

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Fink and Farrah, illustration by @grogusmum

[witchygagirlwrites]

Let Me Decide

Hank Voight x Reader

You're a lot younger than Hank, hell you should've never looked his way considering you work at firehouse 51 and yet you couldn't resist the sergeant of the intelligence unit. When a bad day happens you take your back and forth with him into your own hands.

You hopped out of the ambulance, grabbing your med bag and looking over at Sylvie. You hated responding to a shooting because you never knew just what the hell you were walking into.  Especially when intelligence was involved.

The two of you met the patrolman that was covering the outside of the house “Well I hope no one is dying considering none of you seem to be in a god awful rush” you told him and saw Sylvie smirk slightly. He shook his head “No ma'am. Sergeant Voight just wanted one of his detectives checked out along with the perp before rolling out”

You rolled your eyes “Always a pleasure to act as his personal rolling clinic” “Well if it isn't my favorite Paramedic” You glanced up the steps to see Voight himself standing in the threshold of the house. 

You hated how damn attracted you were to him. He was quite a bit older than you, his son Justin was just a couple years behind you in high school. He had a hell of a reputation in Chicago and around your station house. He did things his own way and sometimes, well  most of the time those ways were less than morally north.

But he also ran the most successful unit in the CPD. The men and women under him were your friends. He worked non-stop no matter the case and no matter the background of the victim. He may be a little more on the grey side of the moral scale but the results spoke for themselves. He went at every one the same. Brown eyes, that damn gravel filled voice that went straight through you and that fucking smirk that drove you bat shit every time you had to respond to a call he was at.  

“Hello to you too Voight. I see you're fine so which of your detectives got hurt?” You asked, walking up to meet him. He held open the door, letting Sylvie in first then his eyes trailed over you “Ruzek rolled his ass up chasing the perp. I need to see if a trip to med is needed”

You shook your head “Ok then, show us to them”

You were sitting at the bar in Mollys eyeing the most recent concoction Herrman had sat in front of you, Cruz, Jay and Adam. “Boys, I don't think this is a case of ladies first. Besides if either of you go down don't you want me still standing to render aid?” You asked, looking between them.

Adam shrugged and tipped the green liquid back, grimacing slightly but then he shrugged “Not that bad actually” 

You watched him for a second before saying “Fuck it” and tipped back your own shot. You saw why he grimaced. It was very limey but for one of Herrmans mixes it was good. “Not bad” you nodded so Jay and Cruz followed after you.

Cruz motioned to Herrman for another round. Adam cut his eyes at Jay who shook his head. “Ok detectives. What was that about?” You asked, seeing Jay shoot Adam a glare before Adam turned to face you, leaning one arm on the bar “What's with you and Voight?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking between him and Jay. Cruz laughed “She's a little oblivious fellas” you spun around to face him and he threw his hands up “I think I just heard Kelly call me…from the other side of the bar” 

“Coward” you called after him before leveling Jay with a look “Halstead” he punched Adam's arm before saying “You and him flirt…like a lot.”

“I do not flirt with Voight” you argued, feeling your face warm. Adam nodded slowly “Yeah, Sure ya don't. And he doesn't get pissy when we have to roll an ambo any time it's not your shift so that means he hasn't gotten to see you”

“What?” You laughed and Jay shrugged “Just an observation” “about what?” Kevin asked as him, Hailey and Kim joined the three of you. “Voight's thing for her”

Your mouth fell open at Adam's answer but then Kevin nodded “Oh yeah. It's hilarious when we work a scene with fifty one. Ain't never seen Voight get dog walked before then” 

“Oh my god. I do not!” You gasped and Kim patted your back “Honey, ya kinda do” 

You shook your head “For fucks sake. You six are like kids trying to get your dad a date” Hailey shrugged “Maybe he'd get in a better mood” and all of you busted out laughing.

A week passed and you didn't give much more thought to their teasing. Hell Hank Voight struck you as the type of man that if he wanted something he'd go after it.

A call rang out summoning an ambulance to the north side. Sylvie slapped your foot where you’d had it propped up on the chair in front of you, currently beating Kelly at a game of poker “C’mon partner. We gotta go” you tossed your cards down and pointed at Kelly “I’ll get you later Severide” 

The two of you headed out to the bays and climbed into the rig with you driving. She shot you a smile as you pulled out onto the road. At least it was a nice day, winter was finally breaking and the roads weren’t iced over. 

“I’ll buy lunch since you bought breakfast” she offered and you grinned “You just want an excuse to hide from Matt” she raised an eyebrow “Says the lady who literally hid behind Chief the last time we worked a scene with PD so you wouldn’t have to talk to Voight!” 

You opened your mouth to argue but knew that would only push her point further. When you clamped your mouth closed she giggled, honest to god giggled. “I knew it! You have a thing for him! Hello daddy issues” your mouth fell open “Sylvie Brett!”

She shrugged “If it makes you happy and he treats you good” you shook your head “He doesn’t treat me anyway. Now no more teasing, we’re to the address”

___________

Hank was in his office when Adam walked to the open door and knocked on it “Hey, um boss” he cut his eyes up from the file in his hands “What is it Ruzek?”

“We got a call about a hostage situation. Three civilians and two medics from fifty one” he was on his feet and grabbing his jacket before Adam could finish talking. “Gear up, now!”

__________

Your eyes were glued to the gun in the man’s hand. Unconsciously you moved one hand to push Sylvie behind you. You couldn’t get your partner out of this situation but you’d be damned before you stood there and didn’t try to protect her. 

“What’s the end game here? I mean you have to know SWAT is gonna come through that door” you motioned to the door at the far end of the store. There were a total of five hostages including yourself and Sylvie.  He nodded “Oh, I know” he took a step towards you, close enough the gun brushed against your chest “But luckily for me I got a pretty little paramedic with a big mouth who wants to protect everyone else in here”

You glared at him, keeping one hand on Sylvie. You had to keep him calm until SWAT could respond. That meant staying calm yourself, despite the fear coursing through you. “Whatever you need me to do to get everyone out of here alive” you whispered, feeling your hands tremble. 

The sounds of sirens hit your ears and he smirked at you “Lets see what happens next”

________

He’d had to order the shot. There was no other way to get you out of the situation. When they’d breached you were held against the man’s chest, the barrel of his gun pushed into your temple. Your eyes had widened slightly when you saw Hank but your shoulders had loosened just a bit.

“Listen, you let her go..you got a chance of walking out of here” he tried to offer a way out but when the son of a bitch had the nerve to look him in the eye and smirk before saying “What if I wanna walk out of here with her” he gave the signal to Jay. 

You flinched when the blood splattered across your face but the moment you were free instead of running to Sylvie like he’d expected or to a member of his unit that he knew you were friends with, you ran straight to him. You wrapped both arms around his neck, your muscles fully relaxing once he pulled you to his chest “Thank you. Fuck, thank you. I was so damn scared until I saw it was you. I knew you’d get me out”

____________

You and Sylvie were on the couch in Hank’s office. She had one of Kevin’s spare jackets wrapped around her while Hank had taken the jacket off his back to put around you when a crime scene tech had been forced to take yours for evidence.

For the last couple hours you’d given your statements and both of you had fallen asleep when the adrenaline crashed down. The entire time no one dared to cross the threshold. Hank had told them in no uncertain terms to “Stay the hell out of my office and let them catch their breath”

You curled further into the jacket, the scent of Hank’s cologne comforting you despite everything that happened that day.You’d never been so fucking scared. Your job was insane enough but staring down a barrel of a gun? Having to offer yourself up to get her and innocent people to safety? 

The moment you knew it was Hank..you knew you’d be ok. You knew he’d get you out. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Why were you waiting on him to make a move? You knew he was single, knew he had a thing for you as well. Why hadn’t you asked him out? 

 A knock at the door drew your attention and you smiled when Hank walked in, followed by Stella. “Your ride’s here” he teased with a smile. You grinned “Oh thank god, I thought I may have to deal with your driving again” Sylvie shook her head with a small smile “We can go?”

“You’re free to go” he agreed so she walked over to Stella. You started to walk after her and made it halfway into the bullpen before you realized you were still wearing Hank’s jacket. “Let me give his jacket back” you told Stella who nodded “Take your time” 

___________

You walked back to his office and tapped on the open door. He cut his eyes up and smiled when he saw you “Hey sweetheart, you forget something?” you motioned to the jacket “Well sergeant I was stealing this” he shook his head “Keep it. Looks better on you”

You felt your face warm “Hank Voight. Never would have pegged you for a flirt” he shrugged “Only when you’re around apparently” you rolled your lip between your teeth. After the day you had, you weren’t letting an opportunity go by “In that case, you have my number on my statement. Why don’t you use it and come pick me up Friday night?”

He raised an eyebrow “Excuse me?” you grinned “Come on Old man do I gotta spell it out” you stepped further into the office, leaning against the wall not far from his desk “I like you, you’re a pretty good man and damn good looking. I think you like me. So, do you want to go out friday night?”

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head “You’re damn near young enough to be my kid” you couldn’t have stopped the smirk that slipped onto your face if you’d tried before you asked “Is that your way of telling me you want me to call you daddy? Because damn, at least wait until then”

He laughed “You’re something else you know that?” you nodded “I’ve been told. So, friday?” he smiled “Friday sweetheart”

__________

When you walked out of the office you heard Adam whisper to Hailey “I think we got her” you cut your eyes at him and smirked “I’ll see ya around Ruzek” he grinned “So does this mean I can call you when he’s mean to me?”

You shook your head “Ruz, let me go out on the date first before you want me to protect you. Damn!”

[i-prefer-west-side]

https://www.tumblr.com/rosauniverseblog/697656197355028480?source=share fic prompt

A REASON TO SURVIVE

A Still post-ep

She's so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that if it wasn't for Castle and the solid support of his arm around her waist, she may have just laid down in the elevator and fallen asleep right there.

Instead, she leans on him, lets him guide her into her apartment, vaguely registers him dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. She hadn't protested even a little bit when he'd taken the keys and opened the passenger door for her.

Fuck, she's tired.

He walks her to the couch, lowers her to it, and kneels in front of her. "What do you need?" he asks quietly, his hands rubbing the tops of her thighs.

Heat begins to simmer though her at his touch, but all the adrenaline that got her through the day is gone. She can't even think right now. "I don't know," she whispers, covering his hands with hers, stopping their slow journey over her jeans.

He slides his hands out from under hers, but doesn't go far, lifts her legs so he can undo her boots. "What did Gates say?"

She can only watch as he slides her boots from her feet, then peels off her socks, one-by-one. He stands and holds out his hands, and really, she shouldn't be surprised when he lifts her into his arms.

"To take tomorrow off," she murmurs, dropping her cheek to his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. she feels his steps stutter when her lips brush across his skin, but neither of them escalates.

He sets her onto her bed and ducks into the bathroom, and she hears the bathwater start running moments before he reappears. He pulls her into a standing position again, this time tugging at her shirt, slowly undressing her.

"You'll join me, right?"

He chuckles, the low rumble sending trembles through her body as he wraps his arms around her from behind. "Of course."

She doesn't know if it's the hot water or the man sitting at her back, but the bath works wonders, slowly relaxing her rigid muscles, her boyfriend's arms around her offering a place to call home.

Her eyes begin to flutter shut, but before sleep can pull her under she moves forward, Castle's protest dying when she turns and kneels in front of him. "Thank you," she whispers, lifting her hands from the water, pressing her wet palms to his cheeks.

He turns his head and smudges a kiss to her palm. "For what?"

"For staying. I wish you hadn't - stop." She covers his mouth with her hand when he starts to protest. "I'm still mad that you did, that you were willing to die, just like that. But you being there, staying, it..." She trails off, collecting her thoughts. "I resigned myself to my fate. You gave me a reason to keep fighting. To survive."

His eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and her name falls from his lips, a quiet rasp that she interrupts with the soft press of her mouth to his.

[taw-k]

MORE home videos of Thor and Loki

Thor pointing to a herd of cattle and saying "horsies!" in the tiniest cutest voice.

Thor decorating Loki with bubbles in a bubble bath, Loki is perplexed by the bubble tower on his head.

Thor happily exclaims how he lost another tooth after running into a pole while little Loki stares in horror and hides behind Frigga while telling him to "put it back!"

Thor and Loki forced to apologise and hug reluctantly after a fight before they're later filmed huddled up together with a big book in their lap, at peace.

Thor waving his trophy and celebrating after winning his first match of that ball game we saw in a deleted scene (btw I wonder how that would be played?)

Baby Loki bouncing with joy in frigga's baby carrier strapped to her chest watching Thor come home from a long camping trip.

Loki crying while trying to catch the baby goats at a small farm (he wants to pet them). Eventually he gives up and one comes up to him and sits in his lap. He's overjoyed.

Thor and Loki picking out their first goats. Thor goes for the one that Frigga just recorded headbutting a wooden post for no reason and Loki's seen trying to sneak the runt out after hearing that it might not survive. "It's the littlest so it needs the most love!" He exclaims through tears.

Little Loki formally greeting every animal he sees with an attempted handshake because he sees the councilmen and others do it so often. (And his plushies)

Loki at his first play crying his eyes out during the sad part until he's handed to Thor who tells him it's not real

Frigga knowingly walking in on Thor making angels on a crimson rug in his room. His hair is as spiked and poofy as it can get before he touches something metal and giggles to himself before going back for more static electricity. (It doesn't hurt him)

Baby Loki trying a sweet Asgardian fruit for the first time, taking a moment to smack his lips loudly while dribble covers his face, before hastily reaching for the slice again with nothing but NEED in his eyes.

Thor gnawing at the giant bird leg that's bigger than his arm, trying to be like the other warriors.

Loki after finding out his mothers name isn't "mother", cheekily hiding behind a door before calling her what comes out as"Figga" knowing she doesn't like it and running away as soon and as fast as he can.

Thor pushing Loki around the palace in a makeshift wooden wheelbarrow trying to escape the guards that have been placed to watch him after previous "incidents"

Loki sprinting away from Frigga in one of her scarfs wrapped around him like a dress

Thor on Odin's lap shushing everyone dramatically with his finger to his lips

Thor excitedly running from the waterslide he just went on while Loki comes screaming and crying to Frigga.

More?

[livingincolorsagain]

tagged by @saryasy for a 2024 fic roundup, thanks for the tag babe <3. a bit late but hey im here now lol

July

pledge allegiance to my burning heart (2.3k, t) (rebloggable link)

Eddie’s always wanted the things he couldn’t have, but Buck already has a designated spot on his couch.

first buddie fic of course had to be couch theory. and eddie’s pov.

August

and you won’t let it (1.4k, t) (rebloggable link)

It’s just… he’s watching Eddie, standing near the fence, away from almost everyone, a drink in hand and a smile on his face, a beautiful, bashful smile that is directed at Marcus.

Marcus, who’s a friend of Karen. Marcus, who’s tall and smart and handsome. Marcus, who’s a goddamn rocket scientist. Marcus, who paused after hugging Karen and wishing her a happy birthday, because he spotted Eddie there by plates, having a very serious discussion about ladybugs with Jee-Yun.

Marcus, who’s been talking to Eddie all day, making him smile and laugh, then dragging him away from the party, so now they’re standing alone, and Buck doesn’t know what they’re saying, what they’re talking about, but Eddie’s cheeks are flushed even more than usual, his eyes are bright and glistening even as he ducks his head, staring at the glass in his hand for a long moment, and Marcus’ eyes stay on him until he’s looking up again, shrugging, as if to say what the hell, why not.

(Or, Eddie dances with a guy. Buck is very normal about it actually, thank you very much.)

jealous insane buck who wants to crack his chest open so eddie can crawl inside. what’s not to love

September

sunlight through a window (443, g) (rebloggable link)

The last rays of sunlight peek through the curtains of Eddie's bedroom window, spreading over the bed.

Buck is sitting against the headboard, a pillow stuffed behind him and a light blanket covering him.

Covering them, because Eddie is flush against his side, warm skin on warm skin, slick with cooling sweat. Buck has an arm around his narrow waist, fingers idly rubbing over the smooth skin, back and forth, up and down, until he reaches a spot that has Eddie giggling, a full body jerk.

Buck smiles, drags his fingers lightly over the same spot one more time, Eddie growls playfully, takes hold of his hand but doesn't move it away as he says, "stop," and only managing to sound breathless about it.

Buck's smile widens, and he turns his head to the side, looks down at Eddie's upturned face, breath stuttering, because one of the sun's stray rays is falling across Eddie's face, making his eyes a molten golden brown that threatens to unravel Buck, bury him, keep him warm and loved.

October

of pretending; (351, g) (rebloggable link)

Eddie thought he would get used to the silence. He thought as the days and weeks and months went by, it would get easier, feel less cutting, less hollowing, less like someone had carved his heart out of his chest and left a jagged hole behind.

It didn’t.

He put the decorations up alone, took them down alone, even though he brought them long ago with Christopher and Buck. Even though he only really brought them because they both loved the tiny pumpkins and little sitting skeletons and the orange and pink lights, obsessing over where they were going to place them right in the middle of the aisle as Eddie watched them, heart so full it almost spilled over.

November

in the passenger seat (1k, t) (rebloggable link)

“I drive,” Eddie repeats, rolling his eyes in Chimney’s general direction.

“Yeah,” Hen says, and now she’s smiling, “when absolutely necessary.”

“Everyone drives when absolutely necessary! What, you want me to drive around for fun?”

“Some people do,” Buck chimes in, utterly unhelpful, he guesses, given the look Eddie throws his way.

“That’s terrible for the environment.”

Well. That is true. Buck swallows down his own smile and shrugs.

“Eddie,” Chimney says, walking back over to the table, “how did you get to work today?”

Eddie frowns. “That’s neither here nor there.”

Buck’s lips twitch. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink. Buck knows, from experience, how soft and warm they feel under his lips, under his thumbs when he presses them into the dimples there, swipes them back and forth over the skin, watching Eddie’s eyes flutter close then open slowly, heavy-lidded and brilliantly brown and endlessly loving.

“Because Buck drove you here?”

(Or, Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.)

passenger princess eddie diaz. that’s it. that’s the plot. (okay there’s also a lot of feelings. it’s me after all)

the stars are still in the sky (600~, g)

The quietness stretches, blankets them, as the wind picks up, the cold intensifying; like it's putting up a fight it knows it's going to lose once the sun breaks through the horizon.

Eddie says, "I'm going to miss you," then pauses, takes a deep breath, "I think I already do."

And Buck feels the words land in his chest like sharded glass, his heart splintering like an old piece of wood that needs to be sanded down.

He closes his eyes against the burn, his throat closing, and it takes him too long to open his eyes and say, "I'm going to miss you, too."

Eddie sits up a little, locks one arm in place and rests his head on his palm. He has a gentle smile on his face when Buck turns to look at him, and Buck suddenly feels caught, trapped with nowhere to go, and when he opens his mouth, he says,

"We can always, y'know, look at the stars. Together."

might actually be one of my favorite fics ive posted this year

half his heart and soul (320~, g)

Buck gets it, is the thing. He would do the same, he thinks, if he were in Eddie's shoes. He would do it all, and more, for Christopher. So, he gets it.

He's not mad, he's not confused. He understands.

Eddie's heart and soul is in El Paso, Texas, so he's following it.

What he doesn't understand is the way Eddie is still wringing his hands nervously, fidgeting. He doesn't understand why he can only meet Buck's eyes fleetingly, like he knows, if Buck looks for more than a second at a time, he would see something he doesn't want him to see.

And Buck wants to see, but he's being a good friend, so he doesn't ask. Doesn't chase Eddie's eyes, no matter how much he wants to.

December

almost married (340~, g)

Buck is mindlessly browsing through suits when Eddie steps out of the changing room, arms spread out a little, hair swooping, cheeks pink, and a bright smile stretching his lips.

Buck's breath hitches, and he blinks once, twice, before abandoning the rack of suits and walking over to Eddie.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, still smiling brightly, like he already knows what Buck thinks.

"Do a spin," Buck says, sounding a little breathless, and Eddie laughs, but he does do a spin, raising an eyebrow when Buck fails to look away fast enough from how the pants are snuggly hugging his ass.

"Yeah," Buck says softly, "That's the one."

Eddie beams. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Buck takes another step closer, and now he's close enough Eddie has to slightly tilt his face up to keep looking at his face. "Yeah, it is."

no pressure tagging @confessionseddie @buick118 @moonsharky @letthesunburnyourskin @capseycartwright @tidesreach <33

[pomtastic]

Stan and Mabel?

The town square in Gravity Falls was usually bustling with activity, but with the holidays around things were downright chaotic. It shouldn't come as a surprise to Stan, he'd been living there for god knows how long now. The way traffic would stock up, drawing in more potential (suckers) customers to the gift shop. But he wasn't at the shack. He was driving the Stanmobile up to the side of the curb, fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel. The chipper little human-shaped rainbow beside him immediately unbuckled her seatbelt and slipped her drawing pad into her backpack. "Y'sure this can't wait another few days? Or months?" Grunkle Stan eyed the crowd outside, cheeks red like the presents they were carrying back and forth. "I'm sure they'll still have it in stock after the holidays." "Are you kidding!?" Mabel sat back, mouth open in mock offence. "This is the once chance to get it, the-" She spread her hands across the air as if painting a logo, "Mary the Princess Queen, limited Christmas edition...!" Her eyes were sparkling like the fairy lights adorning the storefronts. Grunkle Stan shook his head, leaning back in the driver's seat with crossed arms. "Sounds like a hack to me, princess and queen? That just doesn't make sense. She can't be both at once." Mabel just grinned as she hopped out the truck. "Oh but she can, Grunkle Stan! She can!" The door slammed shut and he watched as the little lady made her way onto the sidewalk before disappearing between the crowd of people. Most parents would probably worry... But he wasn't one. So he decided to close his eyes for a bit. Maybe there was a chance of getting some minutes in, since they'd be wasted in the car anyway. With his old age his hearing wasn't exactly top notch anymore, but it was hardly noticeable sitting in the truck. The people, the cars driving by, the window wipers swiping away snow. The quiet hum of the heater and knocking. Knocking? He cracked an eye open and saw none other than the bumbling duo of officer Blubs and deputy Durland tapping on the window. Of course they'd be out patrolling on a busy day like this. Instinct wanted to kick the shift in to gear and drive off, but he couldn't exactly leave Mabel behind. So begrudgingly he rolled down his window, squinting at the snow landing on his nose. "What do you two want, disturbing an old man like this? On the holidays, no less..." "Do you have any idea where you're standin' right now, Mr Pines?" Officer Blubs huffed, partly covered by a large scarf with the words 'I <3 YUO' misspelled in crochet. "Handicapped spot, and last time I triple-checked your doctor's note it turned out to be fake... So no funny business this time around!" "Yeah! No funny business, y'hear!?" Echoed Durland. "Oh, yeah, well..." Stan cleared his throat and clasped over his heart. "It's awful, truly a tragedy. I was up skiing with my great niece and nephew and then suddenly a giant Christmas decoration some loony had hung up on a tree landed smack-BLAM on me." Durland was shaking. "Did you survive?"

Stan gave him a solemn look. "No." "Well, I'm awfully sorry for your... loss?" Blubs thought it over in his head, and as the cogs started to turn Grunkle Stan quickly added a; "And I broke both my legs in fifteen different places." The suspicion didn't subside, but instead their attention was stolen by someone running up to the side of the car. Mabel, eyes glossy and mittens pressed against her cheeks in distress. "Grunkle Stan!" She sniffled, "They're all sold out! Girl in front of me got the last one." "What?!" Grunkle Stan was halfway leaning out the window to look at her, and then slammed the door open, smacking Durland headfirst into the snow with a thump. "Not on my watch, pumpkin. Let's get that doll. We're not goin' down without a fight." "I didn't see her mom anywhere..." "Her mom? No, I'm fighting the kid." They walked off into the crowd and Blubs was left shaking his fist after them, trying to help his fellow officer out from the snow. "Curse you, Mr. Pines!! And your fast-healing legs!!"

[pupkou]

i’m literally going to **** ******

[yunogf]

there's nothing like having ur boss chew u who is overworked and underpaid out for not doing enough :)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I think Malenia's grab throw and impale you attack is cool but waterfowl still feels goofy to me idk

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes in therapy I feel like I don't have trauma in some correct sort of way. Like I'll be explaining that my childhood wasn't even really traumatic, just kind of bleak and boring. The worst my parents ever made me feel was disappointed, but not surprised. it was all so very mundane. And whenever some therapist asks me what I mean, I'll tell some random story that I happen to remember off the top of my head of what my childhood was like, or one that I think illustrated what kind of people my parents were and what their relationship was like.

Like this one time I remember when I was like 10 or so, I can't remember where we were going but the whole family was getting into the car, and dad started bitching at mom about how come when their first car was in his name, it was their car, and then when they had their own cars they had his car and her car, but now that they only have one car again, it's still just her car.

And then mom bitterly pointed out that the reason why he doesn't have a company benefit car anymore is because he lost his lisence for driving drunk with the kids on board while she was on a business trip. (And while mom didn't bring it up at the time, he had also tried to cover this up and act like nothing had happened. And she wouldn't have found out if my (11/12-year-old at the time?) sister hadn't thought of calling one of mom's friends like "hey cops showed up and took dad so we're home alone now idk what we're supposed to do now" and she came to watch us and told mom.)

...And I was like 10 and sitting quietly on the back seat listening to them bickering about this because they still both bothered to be mad about it. Not mad enough to get divorced or anything, but still bitter enough to bitch at each other about each other. And a therapist will be like wow how did that make you feel, and ???

Bored of it? Disappointed, but not surprised? That was just what life was like. Quietly waiting for bitter adults to be done bickering with each other because you can't do anything to fix this and while they could, they won't do anything to improve their lives. Life was just like that.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

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