#static x reader

[dickmedowndc]

Hero Crush, Pt. II - Virgil Hawkins x Reader

Word Count: 2,100

Summary: There’s always been a nagging feeling in the back of your mind whenever Static shows up on TV – but it’s never something that you can name. However, days after your admittance over your teenage crush on him (and maybe that you were still attracted as an adult), you finally have a run-in with the hero himself. When something you had said, in front of Virgil alone, slips out then the pieces begin to connect. 

Notes: Requested by @theautisticduck (Tumblr). 

Part I here

…★…

Relentless. 

If there was any word to describe Richie Foley, then you could use that. But more than a few others came to mind if someone was kind enough to expand your word limit. 

You adored him, truly, he was one of your best friends, and under any circumstance different than this you would never trade him for all the riches you could own. But currently, you’d trade him for half a stale corn chip and the rest of your tranquility. 

You had been caught rewatching Static’s most recent TV interview, that quick one after the fight that had made your heart flutter all these years later. Caught by Richie, who had a trickster's glint in his eyes as soon as he realized, dashing back out the door before you could utter a word of warning against him. 

Since that day he had been letting it slip, or coming close, at the most inopportune times. The teasing causing you to go red in the face and shove him away or scurry off as fast as you could, only to hide behind Virgil like his body could be a shield against words. For what mattered, Richie could never keep a straight face trying to say it in front of Virgil, so it did work. 

But there had been another reason you had been rewatching that video, and why sometimes you skimmed Static’s public appearances. There was a familiarity there, one that tickled the depths of your mind every time you saw him move a certain way, or the inflection of his voice. It was agonizing in a way, always on the tip of your tongue but never fully formed. You had, at one point, even considered running it by Virgil and Richie, but something had caused you to bite your tongue, keeping your thoughts to yourself, though the need to remain silent still confused you. 

“Hey, did you hear me?” 

You snap back, jolting slightly from the couch while you whirl to face Virgil who stands behind you, hands on either side of your head as he leans over the back of the couch. “Uh, sorry, Virg. I didn’t.” 

“I asked if you wanted some chips, but now I wanna know if you’re okay? Your head’s been in the clouds all day. I’m starting to get a little worried.” 

You hum, taking one of his hands in your own and giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m okay, really. Just a little caught up in myself today.” 

“Hey, if it’s been about Richie and this whole Static thing you know I can talk to him, right?” He questions you, walking around until he can plop down on the couch shoulder-to-shoulder. 

You don’t fluster so easily at the contact, but the look he fixes you with – how sincere he is to help you – has the little twitch of butterflies in your stomach. “It isn’t that. I know if it was that I could talk to him too. There’s just something that’s been on the tip of my tongue I’ve been trying to figure out, and I just can’t shake it, but I can’t figure out what it is either. Usually it goes away, but it just won’t leave me alone right now.” 

He leans over to you, pushing against your shoulder and sending you lazily swaying before you rest against him once more. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You purse your lips, more focused on the wall than him for the moment, though you can feel the heat coming off him. “I don’t think so. You came over to hang out, and I’d rather just do that.” 

“Could do both,” he taps your arm when he sees you open your mouth to interrupt him, “but I’m happy either way.” 

You can only roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “Then let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” he asks, one eyebrow raised as he takes your offered hand and allows you to pull him from the warm and absolute embrace of your broken-down couch. 

“Food - you get to pick the place, and I’ll pay.” 

“I can pay for my own, ya know.” 

“I do, but let me treat you this time. You always spoil me.” 

“Hey, I like spoiling you for your information. Makes me feel better when I see all those bruises on your legs.” he jokes, poking at your thigh while you pull away with an affronted grumble. “Where do you even get them?” 

“There are not that many!” You defend yourself, despite the voice crack, shooing his hand away, ignoring the face he makes, like a kicked puppy left out in the cold – he makes it every time you stop him from having a hand on or against you. “And they’re from falling... up the stairs.” 

“You mean down?” The mirth in his voice is unmistakable, and irking all the same, but in an endearing way. 

“No, I mean up.” 

“You sure you’re not a bang baby? That’s gotta be a power or something.” 

“No, but I might just be cursed.” You assure, reaching your pinky out to hook with his. “And you can’t tell Richie by the way. I doubt he needs any more blackmail on me.” You shudder at the thought, but it subsides a moment later when Virgil returns your pinky hold without so much as a nod. 

“Hey, I can hide plenty from him.” 

“Until he starts coming at you with something and next thing you know I’m thrown under the bus.” 

“Hey that was one time, and only after you sold me out to get some extra gossip on me.” 

“A trade is a trade, Hawkins.” 

He shakes his head, stepping further in front of you just so he can tug you along. “Come on, if we go any slower, I think my stomach is gonna start digesting itself.” 

It sets off the rest of a good day, one with plenty of jovial ribbing and snarky quips – a staple of your days out. Right along with the physical touch that neither of you ever seems to let up on when alone. 

But three days later and you’re missing your boys. Both of your friends had been kept busy, barely having the time to text. Not that it was a surprise, adult life hit hard, and you could go some time before seeing one another, but that never made it any less lonesome. 

It also didn’t help in trying to keep from getting sucked right back into the rabbit hole of why Static was so familiar. There was a similar itch with Gear at times, but you’d be a liar to say you were not focused on one of them more than the other. 

“Hey! Watch out!” 

You jerked up at the sound of a familiar voice, only to realize that in your lost thoughts you had almost walked into scaffolding scattered in front of a restaurant under renovation. 

“Thank you!” you call, turning to face the voice. You’re taken back when you have to look upwards, to where Static himself is floating on the “static saucer” as you had once heard it referred to. There's a twinge of disappointment that you recognize but push aside as the hero lowers himself to the ground and folds the disc away. 

“You okay? Almost got squished by all that equipment.” He motions behind you, where your back is now turned to the mess, clearly concerned. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry to be a bother – I wasn’t paying attention, just sort of on autopilot, you know? But thank you for stopping me.” 

“I’m glad that I was around, it might have been nasty otherwise.” 

You can’t help but agree with a grimace as you glance behind yourself once more. 

“I wish I could say it’s the first or last time, but I’m accident prone.” 

“At least it’s not falling up the stairs this time,” Static jokes, laughing quietly to himself. 

You almost miss it, but the last two words have your eyes narrowing and the gears clicking together in your head. The feeling of disappointment and seeing the local hero in the flesh was because you had expected to be looking at Virgil – the man who had your heart and had for some time. It was his voice that had called out to you to stop you. It was likely because it was Virgil’s voice that the warning had even registered in your fuzzy state of mind. 

You compose yourself before he notices, trying desperately to wipe the puckish grin from your face before he realizes his slip up. “Well, thank you again for saving me.” 

“Saving feels a bit out there, but you’re welcome.” 

“Well, in my defense, it’s not every day that a handsome superhero comes to my rescue.” You can see in real time the way his brain short circuits, and you have to physically shake your head once as if you can shake off your desire to laugh. “I mean, it’s just,” you pause, waving one hand around to make your point of grandeur, and the smile slips up for a second, “shocking, you know?” 

He composes himself a heartbeat later, coughing into his fist as he brings his eyes from the ground and back to you. “Well,” he coughs once more for real, “thank you for the compliment, kind citizen.” 

You almost choke trying to hold back the snort that comes out in response. He’s playing it strong, like he has no idea who you are, but to save himself from embarrassment. You realize he has no idea he has given himself away. 

It’s then that you remember that dumb smug look on a certain blond friend’s face some days ago - who must be Gear, your mind chimes - at his suggestion should you ever meet your hero crush. You can feel the way your eyes squint as your smile slips once more, leaving you almost biting your lip to stop from giving yourself away. 

Virgil. Or Static, you should say for now, is in the middle of giving you a soft reminder about watching your step, which you nod along to only half listening. “Of course, of course. I’ll be more careful.” You promise it to appease him when he fixes you with a look – one that means he knows you too well, only solidifying what you now know. “Let me thank you again,” you hum, stepping forward before he can blink, one hand on his shoulder to tilt him to your height before you plant a kiss on his cheek. 

When you pull back he isn’t moving, still as a statue to the point you aren’t sure he is breathing, staring at nothing while your actions are processed in his mind. And then you see the sunshine bright look that begins to dawn on his face as he looks back at you, seeming to forget he’s supposed to pretend not to know you. You speak before he gets the chance. “You can thank Gear for the idea.” You finish with a wink before stepping back. 

It is then that he remembers that he stands before you as a hero, not a civilian. But the connection isn’t lost on him, and he shakes his head before sighing. He struggles to find any words before he finally settles on something. “Be safe on your walk back and try not to fall up the stairs this time.” He lowers his voice before taking a step forward. “I’ll see if I can grab him to swing by tonight and talk about all this.” 

“Well,” you drawl out, kicking at shards of ruined cement, “if he can’t come by later then maybe we can pick up from that kiss on your cheek, if you’d like to talk about that too.” 

He stops a moment, genuinely thinking it through before he has that same sharp grin you’ve come to love. “How about I kick him out after? So that we can talk alone.” 

You hum nodding your head before shooting a fleeting glance at him and mouthing ‘talk’ for what little you believed that would be your focus. “That’ll work fine by me,” you say, back already turned to him as you weave through the renovation work. 

You miss the look Virgil gives you, amused and exasperated as he watches you clip a metal bar. “Yeah,” he laughs to himself, “that one.” Keeping you just in the field of his vision, he pulls out the mylar disc and his shock box, already beginning to call Gear to meet as soon as possible after their patrols.

[lil-lemon-snails]

He just thinks you're neat :) ✨

[heartfullofleeches]

Self indulgence time-

Static [Sound mimicking monster Yan] would have a hell of a time with a darling with tourette's/verbal tics-

[Darling sits in their bed, making clicking sounds with their tongue when-]

[Staticy clicking noises from their slightly ajar closet door]

Darling: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

[Their closet door slams shut]

[theconstantsidekick]

Sad and Funny

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader (future), Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader (past), Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst? I think?

Summary: Bucky gets an unexpected call on a random Tuesday night, asking him to come to a bar and be the designated driver for Y/n Stark... the woman whose family he murdered? Yeah, that one. But she used to be his best pal's best girl, so he can't not show up, right?

(This takes place before the events of  Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static. However, it can be read as a stand-alone piece. But it’s fun. I promise.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Near Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Traumas, Grief, Self Deprecation, Self Hate, just an overall sad time tbh.

a/n: I read some destiel fic about dude a crying about dude be to dude c and this idea just sprung up.

Bucky Barnes, The Boyfriend (other one-shots) | The Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Static Verse Masterlist

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m—I’m looking for—a girl? She’s apparently really drunk, looks like an Avenger?”

“Sergeant Barnes,” a voice calls out to him from the end of the bar. “This way!”

With a hushed thanks to the bartender he’d been talking to, he makes his way through the bar.

“Thanks for coming, Sergeant Barnes,” the guy puts out his hand for him to shake.

Bucky takes it. “Murdock, right?” He searches his brain for the full name. “Matt Murdock? The lawyer?”

The guy—Murdock, smiles. “Yes. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances considering the last time, but this is as good as it gets for a guy in my line of work.” He seems very sincere, like he actually is very happy to meet Bucky at a shady little bar in Hell’s Kitchen. And what does Bucky know? Maybe he is. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replies in a non-reply. But Murdock doesn’t seem to mind, and well, no one really should. Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. “I—I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what I’m doing here.”

Murdock fidgets, fixing his red glasses while his smile falters, only a little. “She’s—uh—” his lips curve up again”—pretty out of it,” he points behind himself, at the table. “I didn’t think I’d be very capable at handling that situation given… my predicament.” Murdock nods at the walking-stick in his hand. And, well, yeah. Fair enough. “So, she asked me to call you.”

“Why?”

Murdock stills for a second, gripping the handle of his walking stick with both hands. “Don’t you think that’s a question better posed to her?” 

Well, yeah. 

He can’t fucking ask her, though. Can he?

But Murdock doesn’t give him the chance to counter. “So, can I count on you?”

“What?” Bucky’s so fucking lost right now.

“Can I count on you?” He repeats. “To get her home safe?”

Oh, shit! Yeah. “Yes… Yes, of course.”

Murdock hands him a napkin, “Great! That’s her address and her keys are in her pocket.” Bucky nods, still very lost. But Murdock smiles at him again, “Thank you so much for doing this. I have an arraignment early in the morning, so I gotta be on my way. I’m really sorry for dumping her on you like this.”

“It’s—it’s no problem.”

He nods then, smile still intact. “Thanks again, Sergeant.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, not completely registering what’s going on. Murdock takes the opportunity to walk past him, and make his way towards the door.

Bucky’s intently staring down at the napkin he’s just been handed and he can’t help from wondering… did Murdock write it down? He couldn’t have, obviously. So, does that mean some random person in this bar just knows her address now? Should Bucky be worried about that? But then again, he’s gotten his ass handed to him on a platter enough times to know, it would be frankly, silly to take her on. However, the world has gone to shit lately, so maybe—

“For what it’s worth,” Murdock calls out, halfway to the door, “she seemed quite—content when you agreed to come.”

Bucky’s left speechless.

“Take care, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Yeah. See you around, Murdock.” Oh fuck.

The moment the words are out of his lips, he knows he’s fucked up. He’s fumbled—hard. He winces and his hand slowly comes up to clasp his mouth in pure embarrassment. 

Mudrock pauses at the door, head falling. 

Bucky’s thanking all the Gods above for his super hearing right about now, cause he can hear Murdock chuckling at Bucky’s horrifying fumble. 

Before he can apologise, Murdock’s already out the door.

He sends out a silent prayer cum apology to the universe, and adds this to his never ending fuck ups.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, with measured, slow movements, he takes a seat on the table, opposite the woman who’d apparently asked him here.

“Y/n?” 

She’s sitting—if he can call it that—with her head on the cold, hard table. There’s a slice of lemon in her mouth that’s sticking out and her hand is gripping onto her liquor filled glass like someone might steal it. 

She looks like she just conked out mid sentence, and fell face first onto the table. 

He tries again, “Hey, Y/n?” No response. 

He doesn't want to jerk her awake, but it doesn’t seem like he has a choice anymore. 

“Y/n?” He gently touches her elbow. And motherfucker! She’s up in an instant.

The first thing she does the moment she’s up is spit out the slice of lime from her mouth and down her entire drink in one go. 

Once she’s done, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, slamming the glass on the table. “Tess!”

Who the fuck is—

“What do you want?” The bartender from before shouts back.

“Another drink—for me and tall, dark and brooding over here,” Y/n replies, pointing at Bucky. 

“I already told you, you’re cut off!” Tess, the bartender, throws back from behind the bar, as she continues to work.

“You can’t cut me off, Tess! I’m an Avenger! I saved the world! You can’t cut me off! Them’s the rules!” Y/n argues. Bucky can clearly smell the liquor on her, he thinks he could probably do that even without his enhanced sense of smell. But her competence doesn’t seem all that hindered because all of that made very clear sense. And sounded borderline logical too. You save the world, you get to drink however much you want? Seems like a fair bargain to Bucky. 

“Not in this bar!” Clearly it doesn’t seem fair to Tess.

Y/n huffs, deflates. “Fine,” she gives in. “I’ll take a look at the refrigerator in the back, tomorrow—when I’m sober, if you give me and my roguishly handsome comrade here another round. How about that?” Bucky’s entire body stops functioning. But Y/n either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. “What say, Tess?”

“There’s something wrong with the lights in the office too—”

“I’ll look over the entire bar’s electrical grid.”

“... One last round and then you’re done.”

Y/n rejoices like she’s won a war. Clapping her hands, she shouts in excitement. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweets.” And then she turns to him, “What will you have?”

Bucky’s been rebooting so far, so instead of saying anything competent he just makes a noise that sounds something like, ‘What?’

“The drink? What’s your poison?”

“Uh, no. I—I’m good.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed. “Come on, man! Just have a drink.”

“I’m supposed to be your designated driver, wouldn’t it be pretty irresponsible to drink?” Bucky shifts nervously and shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

But she doesn’t think his excuse is anywhere near valid. “You’re a super soldier, dude. One drink won’t even touch you. Just—gimme some company, alright?” She huffs, “Please?”

He swallows thickly. “Whiskey,” he tells Tess. “On the rocks.”

The bartender nods, “Two whiskeys on the rocks, coming up.”

The bar is fairly free of commotion, if you discount Y/n Stark’s antics. It’s a cosy little joint. Bucky must have walked past it a million times without paying any attention to it before. But now that he’s here, he can see why someone like her might enjoy it. It’s dimly lit, there’s a jukebox in  the other corner, playing songs that Bucky knows for once in his life and all the patrons are on the older side, and completely unbothered by the presence of two Avengers amongst them. 

Maybe he’ll come back here some other time. Neat place, nice bartender and no-one ogling him, the place meets all his criterias.

“Oh!” Y/n exclaims suddenly. “Where are my manners?” She sits up straighter. “Sergeant Barnes, thank you for coming. I won’t pretend that I’m not surprised to see you, but thankful regardless.”

“Yeah,” he says, slowly, brows knitting together. “Don’t—don’t mention it.” He can’t help it, he has to ask, “Sorry but, are you drunk? I really can’t tell.”

“Oh, I’m plastered,” she answers casually, grabbing another slice of lemon from a shot glass full of them. She begins nibbling at it.

“How’d you manage that? Isn’t your metabolism like mine? It would’ve taken you at least a couple bottle to even—”

She looks at him dead straight, “I own half of Stark Enterprises, and I’ve been drinking like a tankard since I first tasted freedom—back in ‘53.”

Fair enough, he thinks to himself. “So, you’re saying you’ve got practice.”

“And then some.”

Tess brings their drinks just then, and places a glass each in front of them.

Both of them quickly express thanks.

She raises her glass, he follows too, because what the hell else is he supposed to do?

“To Steve Rogers, the lying piece of shit.”

Oh.

She clicks her glass with his and takes a sip.

Bucky just cocks his head in mild disagreement and sets his drink back down on the table. “That’s what we’re drinking to?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, “Why? You got a problem?”

He sighs, “I understand why you’re upset with him, but he’s still my best friend.”

“Why?”

He bites his lip, trying to control whatever emotions are stirring inside him.

But Y/n Stark isn’t one to back down. “He left you,” she says. “Just like he left me—except yours is worse.” She smiles, and it’s the most cutting and painful thing Bucky’s seen in a while. “End of the line, he’d said.” Snorting, she adds, “Guess his line ended a lot sooner than yours, huh?” Bucky’s jaw clenches. And she must notice the shift in his demeanor instantly—which he has to admit is a feat considering her claims of being plastered. Her hand comes up to lips, covering them, like a child caught saying a cuss word. “That was—that was mean. I’m sorry—I wasn’t… It wasn’t a jab at you—really. It was,” she stumbles over her words, finally seeming drunk. “It was—it was meant for him. Not you.” She shakes her head, sadness clear in her motions. “Not you.” She raises her glass again then, “To life,” she begins, “that’s mostly sad, but sometimes—like in this moment—funny.”

Bucky’s not sure what to do next, so he decides to do the obvious thing. He raises his glass, clicks it with her and takes a drink. “Funny?” He asks, “How?”

“It’s tuesday night, and I’m so fucking hammered that I had to call up the one guy who hates me more than I hate myself to come drive me home.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Don’t know about you, but that’s pretty fucking funny in my book.”

He’s more lost now than when he walked into this joint. “Hate—I don’t hate you? Why would I—Why would I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” She asks him like it’s the most obvious thing. But it’s not. And she must see that to him it is not obvious at all, because then she explains, “I am the reason why he left, pal.” She points to herself so hard, Bucky wants to pull her hand away,  “I am the reason why he left you. Why don’t you hate me?”

His heart breaks. 

“He—he didn’t leave because of you, Y/n. You—you have to know that!”

“Didn’t he?” She challenges with her head cocked. “If I could make him love me enough, then he never would’ve left—he never would’ve felt out of place in this world, in this time. If—” She lets out a hollow, broken laugh. “If I could make him love me enough, he would’ve stayed.” She closes her eyes briefly, before opening them to face him again. “I’m your culprit, Sergeant. If I had been… enough then you wouldn’t have had to navigate this shitty new world all by your lonesome.”

Fucking hell, Steve.

“That—that’s not true! He loved you.” She begins to protest, but Bucky cuts her off. “I knew that guy since before he could stand up long enough to pick a fight, and I am telling you—he loved you.” He really did. Steve really did love her, completely and utterly. “He just needed—” he sits back. “He needed to go live the life he lost. It—it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t because you weren’t enough… He loved you, more than you know.”

“Well, he had a funny way of showing it,” she remarks, feigning ease. Taking another swig from her glass, she says, “But that’s just life, isn’t it? Sad and funny—sad that he left, funny that he maybe loved me even as he did it.” Bucky has to look away. “Still, at least he gave me this.” When he looks up she’s pointing at him. “Another curiously morose, and remarkably hilarious moment.”

“I want to ask, but I’m afraid to,” Bucky admits to her, with a curious look over his glass.

She holds up her finger, “Think about it, Sergeant Barnes—ex-Hydra assassin,” she points to him, “ex-Hydra assassin,” she points to herself. And then slowly she spreads her arms, motioning to the entire place, “United States of America, baby!”

Bucky can’t help it. He shakes his head with a hint of a smile.

“Can you imagine? If Armin Zola saw this?” She asks, clearly finding this all very, very funny. “Do you think, when he was creating us—the Winter Soldier and Static—that he could’ve even imagined a scenario where I would call you up on a random Tuesday night to be my designated driver?” She begins laughing. “Can you—can you imagine if someone were to tell him that this would happen? Do you—” she’s having a hard time getting her words out, with all the giggling, “Do you think he still would have created us? Hydra’s two most lethal weapons, sharing a drink in Hell’s Kitchen?” She cannot physically control herself, cannot stop the laugh that bursts out of her.

And Bucky’s gotta admit, that is pretty damn funny.

Sad and funny.

“Come on, you think it’s funny too,” she accuses. “I can see in your eyes, Barnes.”

“Fine,” he says, his smile blooming as he takes a sip. “It is kinda funny.”

“I remember,” she begins in between her laughs, “Peggy used to tell me Red Skull said that he could see the future, in the Tesseract, and man! That’s a load of shit, cause if he actually could, and he knew this would be the outcome, I don’t think the man would have experimented on himself and turned, you know?”

“Red?” Bucky supplies, smiling wide now.

“Red!” She shakes her head, still chuckling. “He was so fucking stupid. I mean—all of Hydra’s fucking stupid.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bucky counters, adjusting in his seat.

“No, seriously, consider this for a second!” All of a sudden, she’s all excited and pumped. She takes another sip of her drink before she starts, “They were fucking useless, man. I mean, name one great plan of world domination that worked out for them?” 

Bucky—he stops. “What—that’s—What?”

She puts her hand up and begins counting, “Started a war, lost the war because of a kid from Brooklyn who juiced himself up with a serum they could never really recreate.” Well, okay. Bucky can concede to that. “Infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., schemed for decades, only to be found out, by the same fucking guy.” Alright, that’s fair, too, he supposes. “Created Babayaga, a fucking ghost story,” she motions to him, “but then lost him too, cause they were dumb enough to send him on a mission to encounter his best bud—who, again, same fucking guy.” In retrospect, that does seem very stupid on their part. “Decided to commit mass genocide again, tried to kill 7 milliion people but got taken down by a guy in an eye-patch, a dude with wings, an ex-Widow, a fucking ex-Hydra employee,” meaning her, “and the same fucking guy!” 

Put it like that?

Bucky’s not sure what to say.

“You have to be a special kind of incompetent to screw up that bad, and be defeated by the same fucking guy that many times,” she surmises. “I mean, did they ever even actually accomplish anything?”

“I think you’re forgetting the countless assassinations they orchestrated,” he counters, leaving the ‘and we pulled off’ part silent.

She meets him eye to eye then, “Sure, we killed a bunch of people for them but—I’m gonna talk about the one thing we don’t talk about, now. I’m sorry, but it’s important to the point I’m making here—take Howard and Maria, for instance. The Winter Soldier killed them and stole the last of the serum, sure. And then what? They made more Winter Soldiers that were killed in their sleep by Helmut fucking Zemo?”

Bucky’s having a hard time breathing with the crushing weight of his guilt burning a hole through chest, but Y/n seems distinctly unaffected by it.

“None of the shit they did, or made us do, ever really panned out,” she summarizes, easily. Like she isn’t technically stating that her family died for nothing, that he killed them for nothing.

“Just because we can’t see it, doesn’t mean there wasn’t any damage done, Y/n. That’s not how it works,” he argues, with a curt tone.

She must notice it too, “I understand you must think I’m inferring that your… misery was all for naught. Which, I suppose I am, but I hope you can also see that if I make that statement with respect to you, it also reflects upon me.”

“Let me get this straight, what you’re saying is—we both got the shit end of the stick, years of torture and guilt, for absolutely nothing?” He leans forward, elbows on the table.

“Yes,” she answers simply.

“And that—that’s fine with you?”

She shrugs. “Isn’t all misery meaningless?” She throws back, not impolitely. “Furthermore, if there were a meaning behind our misery, would it be any less miserable?”

Well, fuck.

Bucky’s at a loss for words.

Because while it pisses him off to no end, she isn’t wrong. If there had been a reason behind Hydra’s years long torture of him, would that have made any of it better? Would it really have mattered to him? Would it have changed anything other than the fact that he’d feel far more guilty about it? And if there really isn’t any meaning to it, does it make it hurt any less?

While she’s clearly sympathetic to Bucky’s spiralling inner monologue, she doesn’t seem all that affected by it as she looks over at Tess and wordlessly asks for the bill. “Look, pain is pain is pain. Meaningful or not makes no difference. My comment wasn’t on either of ours, though. I just meant—if one has the kind of power and resources Hydra did, I’d like to think they’d do something a little more significant with it.”

It takes a second for Bucky to readjust to her casual tone and even more casual words. And that’s not even taking his spiral into account. So, his answer comes out after a short pause, “I thought you already did.” She cocks his brow at him in question. “You founded S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She tilts her head, impressed. “Most people don’t know that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not exactly most people.”

She smiles, giving in. 

Tess comes to them with a check, and Y/n pays it leaving a hefty tip.

“I may have been a founding member of S.H.I.E.L.D.” she says, once Tess has left, “but you forget that I also worked for them as an agent.” Both of them begin getting up from their seats. “I went on just as many missions for them, as I did for Hydra, if not more… But knowing what we know now, I couldn’t tell you where the orders really came from.” With that she puts on her jacket in one clean motion and walks past Bucky towards the exit.

When he catches up to her, she’s outside, staring at his bike.

“That yours?” She asks.

He pulls the keys out of his pocket. “Yeah…” His eyes fall to the ground as he adds, “Steve gave it to me.”

“Figures,” she says with a hint of annoyance. “It’s a Harley-Davidson Sportster, right?” Her eyes are set on the bike in front of her, but Bucky nods anyway. And though she can’t see him, she continues, “He gave me the same one in red.”

“You—you’ve got a bike?”

She turns to him then, “I’ve got several.”

Color him surprised. “Huh,” is all he can say. And to make up for the lack of words he begins walking over to the bike. “You coming?”

“Coming where?” She asks, blocking his way with her body.

He nods to the bike, he sidesteps her to finish his initial task of getting onto it. “I thought the whole point of calling me here was to drive you home.”

“On that?” She questions like she doesn’t already know the answer. “I’m shit faced dude, and you’re a fucking furnace. I’ll fall asleep on your shoulder in 10 seconds flat and fall off the damn thing.” The image does something to Bucky that he doesn’t want to look too closely at—not the falling off part, the other part.

“You said the word ‘furthermore’ in there like it was something people say in casual conversation. The longer I stick around, the more I wonder if you’re actually even drunk,” he argues. 

She rolls her eyes and stomps her feet. “Yes, because being babysat by you was on top of my Make A Wish list.” She puts her hands in her jacket pockets. “My place isn’t that far from here. I’ll just walk home. Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/n—”

“Thanks for showing up, especially because you didn’t have to,” she smiles at him. “You’re a good man, Sergeant Barnes.” With that she begins walking away.

And fuck him. 

Fuck this all to hell.

He gets off his bike and catches up to her in a few steps.

At first, she doesn’t acknowledge him. But then she says, almost to the world, instead of Bucky, “My place is actually really far from here.”

“I know,” he replies.

“You could’ve just put me in a cab,” she offers.

“You want me to hail one for us?” He asks.

“No,” she confesses, like it’s a secret but not one she wants to hide from him. “I want to walk.”

“It’ll take an hour on foot,” he reminds her.

“For most people, yes. But we’re not most people.”

He sighs, “So, we’re walking?”

“I know I’m walking—to my place. You can still run back to your bike and just ride off into the sunset… or moonlight, whatever.”

Yeah, right. 

Like Bucky’s gonna do that. 

So they walk.

It’s not all that late, the streets are still buzzing with pedestrians, none of whom neither care nor notice the two Avengers walking around.

Bucky’s gotta admit—it is peaceful.

“You like bagels?”

He’s caught completely off-guard by the question. “What?”

“Bagels, Sarge. I know they had them in the ‘30s. And I’m certain they are a thing in Wakanda, so you can’t—”

“Yes, I like bagels.”

She smiles. “Great! Come on!” She takes a right on the street and Bucky, as is the theme of the night, lost and confused, follows her.

The bagels are pretty fucking great. 

Bucky had skipped dinner to rush over, so he really needed to put something in his stomach so you won’t really hear him complain. He’s not all that picky about what he eats, never had a chance to be. But these—they are really good.

Well, except for—

“Why is mine rainbow colored?” He asks, but eats it anyway, it’s his last bite.

“To make up for the lack of it in your life.”

That makes him snort. 

“Can I ask you something?” She says then, looking deceptively small.

“Will it stop you if I said ‘no’?”

She makes a face that says, ‘you’ve got me there, Sarge.’ “Why’d you come?”

He almost chokes. 

Clearing his throat, he composes himself a little before he answers, “Your friend, Murdock sounded… worried on the phone.”

“He is not my friend,” she tells him laughing, as if it isn’t a sad thing to say. “We’re just… acquaintances. Even that might be a stretch. He hates me, actually. Well, maybe not hate. Let’s just say he doesn’t like me an awful lot.”

“You make it a habit of drinking with people who don’t like you very much?” He doesn’t really mean anything by that. He’s just making small talk.

But then she looks at him sideways, with a smirk. “It would seem so, yes.”

He gets up from where he’s sitting on the bench. “I don’t what gave you the impression that I don’t like you but it’s wrong.”

“Is it?”

Bucky’s not sure why he’s getting so worked up over this. All he knows is that he doesn’t want her to think that he holds any ill will against her. “I have no reason not to like you—none whatsoever. You, on the other hand, have plenty not like me!” She laughs at him. And that works him up some more. “So, tell me, Y/n, what the hell am I doing here? Why the fuck did you call me?”

It might have been all the blood rushing to his head courtesy of getting worked up, or maybe it’s just plain old carelessness. Because Bucky knows, as soon as the words are out, that he’s fucked up. 

And the atmosphere immediately shifts. 

He was supposed to emphasis on ‘me’ and not ‘fuck’. 

“Y/n—” he tries to walk his words back but it’s already too late.

“What, you had something better to do?” She asks, cutting and unkind towards him for the first time in the entire night. Bucky looks away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, triumphantly. “Did it cross your mind that maybe I called you cause you’re the only person on my contact list who I knew wouldn’t have any big plans tonight? Seeing as the only friend you ever had left you hanging like a ditchable prom date.” She looks at him, accusing, “And yet, you still won’t kick him off that damn pedestal.” She laughs, pacing now. “You’re fucking pathetic, Barnes.” Oh. So that’s what this is. “You’re stuck here, still holding on to him, looking up to him like a beacon of hope, defending him—for what?” He really should have known that this is what this was. “I don’t know whether to pity you or laugh at you.”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs.

“Something funny?” She bites back, still raging.

He relaxes. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Sad and funny, like life.”

“You wanna share it with the rest of the class, Sarge? Tell us what’s got you giggling like a teenager?”

He looks at her then, with all the patience in the world. “You called me to pick a fight.” Her face loses all color, it goes slack. “You’re drunk and you’re sad, and you wanted to fight… And who better to pick it with than me?” Her jaw clenches. “Look, I know you’re hurt. You’re mad at him for leaving and it hurt—I get that, I do, better than anyone else—”

She cuts him off. “No. No! You don’t get shit. Don’t do that—don’t act like you and I are the same. We are not!” Her hands are flying everywhere. Her anger is very animated. “When he left me he was being an asshole, but when he left you he was being a fucking traitor.” And just like that, Bucky’s left dumbstruck as all the anger leaves her body. “We—we weren’t together, not really. I mean, we weren’t even a thing anymore, not since Siberia. He didn’t owe me shit anymore. But you? He owed you the fucking world and he left you anyway. So, we are not the same! Because I have absolutely no right to be mad at him!” She turns away from him. “You’re not the ditchable prom date, Sergeant Barnes—I am.”

It feels like a gut punch hearing her say that.

“Hey, look at me.” She doesn’t. She’s stubborn. But he can be stubborn too. “Look at me, come on.” She relents. “You’re a ditchable anything, alright? Now, he may be my friend, and I can understand that he had to go live out the life that was stolen from him, but that doesn't mean I didn’t tell him he was a jerk for leaving you behind.”

“You did that?” Her brows furrow.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it was a jerk-y thing to do?”

And then, and only then—when she’s laughing does Bucky feel like he can breathe again. 

“I didn’t call you to pick a fight, James—can I call you James? I’m gonna call you James. Sergeant Barnes is really hard to say when I’m this drunk—but yeah. I didn’t call you to pick a fight with you. I called you, because you’re the only person I could.”

Bucky’s lost all over again. “What are you talking about? You could’ve called Rhodey? Or Pepper? Or Banner, or that guy with the bow and arrow, whose name I can never remember—”

“Clint Barton.”

“—Barton,” he corrects and continues, “Hell! You could’ve called Sam and he’d come running. You’ve got people, Y/n. People who care about you, a lot.”

Sighing, she slowly walks over to the bench and takes a seat. Shoving her hands in her pocket, she begins, “Rhodey’s got a hot date tonight. And Pepper’s probably reading some stupid book, after having tucked Morgan into bed. Banner is deep underground, somewhere on an Island, which you never heard from me. Batron’s youngest got this cold that won’t quit. And Sam is on a mission.” She looks up at him from where she sits, “But even if every single one of them weren’t busy, I still would’ve called you.”

Bucky’s gonna happily ignore how the sentiment warms his heart. “Why?”

She takes a second. She pauses to find her words.

Once she has them, she begins, “Apart from Sam, they’ve all done the picking me up from a bar when I’m shit-faced routine at least ten times over, each of them.” Ouch. “The last time it happened, Rhodey read me the riot act and yelled some sense into me,” she confesses. “He—he said, ‘I get that you’re grieving, Y/n. But if you don’t pull yourself together sooner rather than later, you won’t have anyone left to come pick you up from your bender.’ And yeah. He was right, but that’s not why I didn’t call him.” She clenches her jaw. “I didn’t call him, or Pep or Banner, or Barton or Sam, cause they’ll always presume that I’m grieving—and don’t get me wrong, I am. But—” her voice breaks. “I’m also trying to get over the world’s most extraordinary break up.” She sniffles and Bucky’s legs almost give out at the sound of it. “They—they think this is about Tony, and fuck. It should be about Tony! It is about Tony! But—but it’s about Steve, too! I mean, fuck. Yeah. I lost my brother, but—but I lost the only man I’ve ever loved too, goddamn it!” She’s crying now and before Bucky can think better of it, he walks over and kneels in front of her. “And—and I can’t tell them that. I can’t tell them, that I’m out here drinking myself into oblivion because of a fucking boy! Because, how fucking stupid is that?”

“It’s not stupid at all.”

“Of course it is! My brother died, James. He fucking died! He sacrificed his life to save the whole world! And I’m sitting here crying cause I got dumped!” Bucky wishes he was back in the ‘40s when he always had a handkerchief in his pocket for a dame to wipe her tears, because she’s crying in earnest now. “You know what’s the worst part?”

“What’s the worst part?”

“The one person—the one fucking person I want to call to pick me—fuck that. The one person I want to drink my sorrows with, the one person I want to go on a bender and paint the town red with is fucking dead!” Well, fuck. “Not that it stops me—you know? When I’m drunk, and I mean three sheets to the wind, kinda drunk, I completely forget that he’s—that he’s not gonna answer the fucking phone anymore.” Sniffling, she tries composing herself. “That’s probably why I drink, I think. Cause for those 30 minutes, when I’m plastered, I forget that my best friend, my brother, my Tony is dead.” And she laughs, surprising him and herself both. “I mean, that and the fact that America’s Golden Boy fucking dumped me for the most amazing woman there has ever existed in all of existence.” He can’t help me, he laughs a little at that too. 

She wipes away her tears and composes herself fully. “I called you, because you’re the only person who probably won’t think I’m an asshole for sometimes being just as heartbroken about losing Steve as I am about losing Tony.” She looks at him with her wide eyes, vulnerable and open for the first time since he met her all those years ago in whichever Hydra base they were trapped in. “I called you because, you, Sergeant Barnes, are the only person who I wouldn’t guilty with, for setting my all-consuming grief aside once in a while to let myself drown in my heartbreak.” 

Bucky Barnes doesn’t know this yet, but in a few years, he’ll become her permanent designated driver, for all time, always. He’ll become her emergency contact. He’ll become her ride to every single event. He’ll become her safe place.

In a couple of years, Bucky Barnes will become the man she loves more than she’s ever loved anyone ever before, and he’ll love her back with everything he is and everything he has—steadfast, unwavering, without hesitation.

And while Y/n Stark will give up drinking in the memory of her relationship with Steve Rogers, she’ll never fully outrun the grief of losing her brother. It will come in waves, fierce and unrelenting. And on the nights when it feels too heavy, she won’t reach for a glass of whiskey. She’ll reach for him. She’ll find him, just like tonight. But instead of throwing verbal punches, she’ll ask him to hold her. And he will—like he’s holding the world, because he will be, indeed and in fact, holding his entire world. 

He’ll even ask her about this night. Only to find out that she has no memory beyond the point of falling face first into the bar table. He’ll laugh, shake his head, and tell her the whole story. She’ll groan in embarrassment, apologize too many times, and he’ll just smile, admitting that this was the night he first knew—if he spent too much time with her, he’d fall for her completely.

She’ll tease him for being a sap.

But that comes later.

Tonight, here, he doesn’t know any of that. 

So tonight he’ll say, “Come on, let me take you home. I think we’ve had our fill of sad and funny things happening for one night.”

Find other one-shots here. Find other Static Verse works here.

[fluentmoviequoter]

bang, baby

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!metahuman!reader (characterization up to you!)

Summary: After you move to Dakota City from Gotham, you find yourself dealing with metahumans and vigilantes yet again. Dick Grayson comes to check on you after an explosion and gets a surprising glimpse into your mind.

Warnings: fluff, very brief angst, spoilers/references to Static Shock, the entire Batfamily, people trash talking Gotham

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Hawkins,” you say over the phone. “I look forward to working with you and the people of Dakota.”

“I’m excited to see what you’ll bring to the center,” Robert Hawkins, the man in charge of Freeman Community Center, replies. “Dakota will certainly be a change from Gotham, but I trust you’ll adjust nicely.”

“Is that your polite way of saying that I won’t have to deal with Joker and Scarecrow anymore?” you joke.

Mr. Hawkins laughs but doesn’t deny it. It is no secret that Gotham has its downsides, but it’s been your home, it’s where you met your best friend, the people who have become your family. Dakota offers new opportunities and a viable way to help people in need, rather than sitting behind a computer while vigilantes do the heavy lifting.

“I’ll see you Monday morning, Mr. Hawkins.”

“See you Monday. Travel safe.”

The call disconnects, and you sit back and sigh. Your apartment has been packed up, and most of your belongings shipped to the small bungalow you rented on the outskirts of Dakota. The community center provides exactly what you want, a hands-on role in helping the next generation. Yet, as you look at the picture of Dick Grayson on your lock screen, you know that you’re leaving things behind, too.

“I miss you,” you whisper as your screen goes dark.

You’ve been friends with Dick Grayson for as long as you can remember; you stayed close after he moved to Blüdhaven to escape Batman’s shadow and a destiny he didn’t want. He’s supported you every step of the way, completely in favor of you doing something good for the children of Dakota. But there’s a nagging feeling that leaving him so far behind will be impossible.

Your first day in Dakota passes in a blur of unpacking and desperately avoiding thinking about Dick until you’re settled. As you collapse onto your new couch, only twelve hours before your first day at the community center, you close your eyes and try to relax. Mr. Hawkins asked you to come in before the center opens to tour the facility and get acquainted with everything.

“It’s a great facility, Mr. Hawkins,” you say as he leads you back to your office.

“Please call me Robert, Bob, anything except Mr. Hawkins,” he responds. “Here’s your door. We’ll get your name up here soon.”

“No rush; putting names on doors is the least of your worries.”

“My son Virgil is stopping by on his way to school and I think he’ll agree with me that having another full-time employee is deserving of her name on the door.”

You smile and look around the bare office. There’s a desk, a bookcase, and a file cabinet against plain tan walls. The room is begging for not only an occupant, but a personality and a welcoming feel for the people who rely on the center.

“Feel free to put your own touches, whatever you want to do with the space.”

“Thank you, Mr.- Robert.”

“Better,” he applauds.

“Pops!” someone yells.

“That would be my son,” Robert sighs. “In here, Virg!”

“Pops, I’m asking Frieda-“ Virgil stops when he sees you and greets, “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” you say, offering your hand. “Your dad’s told me some great things about you.”

“You moved here from Gotham?” he asks.

“I did. It’s sunnier here.”

“Safer, too.”

“Thanks in no small part to your dad, I’m sure.”

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Robert begins.

“Do you know Batman?” Virgil asks, ignoring his dad.

“Can you keep a secret?” you whisper. Virgil nods quickly, and you say, “I’ve met all the bats and birds.”

“No way!”

“Precisely,” you say with a wink. “Between me and you?”

“For sure. Welcome to Dakota!”

“Virgil,” Robert calls. “Be good today.”

“Every day, pops! I’m good every day!”

As Virgil turns and exits the center, you shake your head. He reminds you of some of the previously mentioned bats when they were his age.

“He’s a good kid,” Robert muses. “But since his mom passed, I feel like I’ve had to remind him of that more often.”

“It’s hard,” you agree. “Losing a parent like that can make it too easy to lose sight of who you are. Virgil’s lucky to have you. All the kids here are.”

“You have to say that,” Robert jokes. “You’re from Gotham.”

The Freeman Community Center is relatively quiet on your first day, giving you time to remember where everything is, put some personal touches on your office, and figure out how to use the computer. It isn’t Wayne tech, but the outdated operating system isn’t easier to use. The phone on your desk rings later in the afternoon, and your brows pinch as you pick it up.

“Freeman Community Center on Dakota’s Ferris Row,” you begin, reading the printout of frequent questions and information Mr. Hawkins left you. “How can I-“

“We keep secrets, right?”

You turn away from the open door and whisper, “Virgil?”

“Yes or no?” he presses, his voice high and urgent.

“Virgil, that depends entirely on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I just- I need help, and my pops won’t understand.”

“What happened?”

“He always says I’m smart and asks me not to prove him wrong… what if someone else makes me?”

“Who?”

“Forget it,” Virgil decides.

“No, listen to me. I’ve been exactly where you are. It’s a tight spot but it’s not an impossible one.”

“I told my dad it was a football injury; if he finds out I even got near a gang… I can’t hurt him, so I have to do this alone.”

“Be careful, Virgil.” You hesitate before you add, “If you need anything…”

“Thanks, Gotham.”

You huff a laugh and reply, “No problem, Dakota.”

As you end the call, you notice a handwritten note from Mr. Hawkins at the bottom of the paper. It mentions gangs, the letter F, and someone named Wade.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Virgil?” you mumble.

Your bungalow is within walking distance of the center and the docks. The house is nice, safe, but is quiet enough that your Gotham-bred mind is uncomfortable. Your city never sleeps, coming to life after the streetlights come on, but Dakota is on a schedule that makes it impossible for you to ignore the silence. Flipping through channels, you try to find something to distract you, and when a news crew discussing Gotham pops up, you frown. It’s 600 miles to Gotham; there shouldn’t be a signal to broadcast Gotham City news.

“-Joker toxin dosing just last night,” the news anchor continues. “Aren’t you glad you aren’t in Gotham, Deb?”

“I sure am, Mike. Back in hometown news, Dakota residents have noticed an increase in traffic on-“

You turn the television off and check your phone. Jason texted you about the Joker toxin incident last night; several factory workers had been hospitalized, but the toxin was contained, and no one you know was affected. It was a relief, but your deep worry of not knowing when something else happens remains.

Your finger hovers over Dick’s contact. It’s been several days since you spoke to him, but if anything can make you homesick, it would be him. The sudden sound of helicopters flying over your house keeps you from texting him. You walk to the large window in your living room and see police choppers hovering with their spotlights pointed at the dock.

“Freeze!” someone demands over a speaker. “You are in a restricted area. Drop all weapons and step into the open.”

Gunshots echo as you turn the television back on to watch the helicopter footage. The boys at the docks look to be about Virgil’s age. A gang, you realize.

“No,” you whisper, rushing toward the front door.

As you near the road that leads you directly to the docks, an officer fires a nonlethal round from one of the helicopters. The noise is louder than it should be, pushing you backward as you cover your ears. It gets worse, however, when you notice the purple mist that covers the docks immediately after.

“Virgil,” you call, launching into a run.

Whoever is present needs help, but if Virgil is there, you must ensure he’s okay. As you near the fence on the east side of the docks, you slow. Virgil is climbing out of the secured part of the docks while police officers in gas masks are gathering the rest of the teenagers inside.

“What happened?” you ask.

Virgil looks at you before he falls off the fence and lands with an audible thud. You check his pulse and shake your head. He’s alive, breathing, and seems fine other than being unconscious. Carefully, you pull him up and thank Bruce for letting you train with vigilantes so often.

“I’ll get you home but I’m making you promise never to do this again,” you mumble.

You refuse to open your eyes the following morning despite your ringing phone. Blindly, you feel around your bed and nightstand until you find it.

“Hello?” you ask against your pillow.

“You are not gonna believe this, Gotham! Meet me at the auto junkyard. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah,” you answer. It isn’t until after Virgil hangs up that you ask, “Why?”

When you reach the junkyard, you notice a blond boy with a green sweater wandering aimlessly. There’s a picture of him on Mr. Hawkins’ desk, and you think back to your tour as you try to remember his name.

“Richie?” you try.

He spins quickly and takes a step back. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Virgil’s. He told me to meet him here,” you answer.

“Yeah, me too.” Richie sighs and murmurs, “I’m worrying about his butt and he’s rushing me off the phone and…”

“Whoa,” you whisper as Richie yells.

Before you, Virgil stands atop a stack of junk cars as several rise and move to other piles. He moves his hands, and you watch his face as this new power courses through him.

“Tell me that’s not cool!” Virgil exclaims.

“How the heck did you-“ Richie begins.

“There was an explosion last night. There was this gas. It changed me, Richie. Check it out!”

You watch Virgil as pink sparks fly from his hands to wrap around the hood of the car. It flies up, and Virgil balances on top as it circles the junkyard.

“No more asking my pops to borrow his car, dude!”

“V-man, you could be a superhero!” Richie yells excitedly.

“I could, couldn’t I!”

“Virgil!” you warn just before he crashes.

You walk to his side as Richie pulls him up and begins brainstorming ideas for protective gear. Looking into his eyes, you try to determine what other effects the gas may have had on him or anyone else.

“What?” Virgil asks. You tilt your head, and Virgil murmurs, “Oh.”

“What?” Richie repeats. “What oh?”

“I don’t like that look, Gotham.”

“And I don’t like seeing people react to airborne mutagens,” you reply. “Does your dad know?”

“No! And he doesn’t need to. Right?”

“I won’t tell him, but…”

“You’ll help me? You know other heroes.”

Richie looks between you and Virgil, and you sigh before you agree, “Yeah, I’ll help. But if I notice one thing that seems off, I’m getting you real help.”

“Deal, Gotham,” Virgil says, extending his hand.

“I’m not shaking your hand, Static.”

Richie and Virgil gasp together, and you roll your eyes at the realization that you just named another vigilante hero.

“Good morning,” Dick greets with a smile, and Haley tucked under his arm. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason replies, blocking the door.

Dick sighs. “Why can’t you ever play along?”

“What do you want?”

“Fine, fine. Can you watch Haley for a few days?”

Jason looks at Haley, whose tail wags at his attention. “Where are you going?”

“Dakota. There was an explosion last night.”

“Yeah, the weird purple gas, I saw. She would’ve called if something happened.”

“She hasn’t called at all,” Dick admits softly. “I’m just worried.”

“I texted her after Joker dosed the warehouse workers. She was fine then.” Jason opens the door and takes Haley. He adds, “But I get it. Be careful.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“I can start repayment with a hug,” Dick offers, spreading his arms.

He blinks as the door slams in his face. His phone buzzes with an update on the citizens of Dakota, and he runs to his bike so fast he nearly trips over it.

“Bruce Wayne. Leave a message.”

“Bruce, something happened. I��m going to the hospital now to look into it. Dakota might be a new breeding ground for metahumans. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

You save the voicemail as you enter the hospital. The emergency room is an open area to your left, and it is at maximum capacity.

“It’s getting worse,” a nurse says. “They keep mutating.”

You discreetly look through the first door and gasp. An explosion down the hall draws the attention of doctors, nurses, and patients, but you walk the other way. You have to find Virgil and fill in Bruce, in that order. On your way out, you snatch a newspaper from the stand by the door.

In your office at the center, you read the front page several times. The story isn’t surprising, but you know it is nowhere near finished.

“Bang baby,” you read from the newspaper. “Dakota’s better than Gotham, huh?”

You look up when Mr. Hawkins knocks on your door. “Join my family for dinner? It’s the least I can offer after the unsavory welcome you’ve gotten.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Your family deserves your time.”

“We eat at six. The address is in my contact. See you then!” Robert calls over his shoulder.

You drop your head and nod to no one. “See you then,” you reply weakly.

“Everywhere you look there’s another Bang Baby setting fires, wrecking buildings, scaring everybody, and no one’s doing anything about it,” Mr. Hawkins says at dinner.

“Well, what about that kid they were talking about on the news?” Sharon asks. “What’s his name? Static. He’s doing something, isn’t he?”

“Didn’t you hear what happened today? He got beat. Bad. Besides, he’s probably a Bang Baby, too.”

“If he is, he’s one of the few good ones.”

“Huh. For now.”

“What’s that mean?” Virgil demands.

“Nobody knows anything about these metahumans. What if Static keeps changing? What if he turns into some kind of monster? Nobody knows. Not even Static himself.”

“He’s willing to fight, though,” you point out. When all three Hawkins turn their attention to you, you clear your throat and explain, “He’s not mutating yet, like the rest of them, so it seems likely he never will. Plus, if he’s willing to fight the other Bang Babies, win, lose, or tie, I think he’d fight against any change he didn’t agree with.”

“That’s- I hadn’t considered it that way,” Mr. Hawkins admits. “I suppose you have a point. Fighters have something to fight for. Right, Virgil?”

Virgil smiles at you as he agrees, “Right.”

After dinner, Virgil walks you out and stops on the sidewalk. “You really think I won’t mutate?”

“Virg, the ones who are already mutating were probably closer to the explosion, exposed to more gas, there’s no way to know for sure. If you do, and I think it’s a big if, I’d anticipate it would be a slower, more manageable change. Something you can handle, no problem.”

“And you’ll help?”

You smile, but someone behind you answers, “That’s what she does best.”

Virgil looks over your shoulder, but you spin, your eyes widening as you run toward him.

“Dick!” you greet happily, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he catches you.

“I saw the explosion and was worried something happened to you. I should have known you were helping a young hero.”

“Hero?” Virgil repeats.

Dick looks at you as you move to his side, and you smile before you turn to Virgil. “I’ve been considered a sidekick for a very long time. Invisible but always there. Something you should remember, Virg.”

“I will. Nice to meet you…”

“Dick Grayson,” Dick introduces himself. “I take it you’re Virgil Hawkins.”

“Shake his hand,” you encourage.

“Why did you say it like that?” Dick demands, pulling his hand behind his back.

“Just do it.”

Dick reaches his hand out carefully, and Virgil shakes it without releasing any static electricity. You nod and wave to Virgil as he returns to his house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you tell Dick. “I thought I’d want to come back if I talked to you.”

“What happened?”

You glance back at Virgil’s house and decide, “It’s not my story to tell. What I do know is that there are a lot of metahumans in Dakota, and most of them are not good.”

“Did you tell Bruce?”

“I left a message. They- I just don’t know what to do.”

“What you came here to do. Help the people who need it most.”

“The center is for the poor, homeless, doomed narrative people, Dick, not metahumans.”

Dick lays his hands on your shoulders and smiles. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“How long are you staying?”

Dick smiles and helps you onto his bike before he answers, “As long as I need to. I’ll do whatever I can, but I’ll also keep Bruce off your back. He’ll want to know everything, but your focus needs to be here.”

“Thank you.”

“Static,” Dick says. “That’s why you wanted me to shake his hand.”

“He’s gotten much better. But don’t tell him I told you anything.”

“You’ve been protecting my secret identity for over a decade, your secret’s safe with me.”

While Dick stays at your house and tells Bruce everything he’s found out about the explosion and metahumans, you accompany Mr. Hawkins to a meeting at city hall. Despite your best efforts to convince him otherwise, he approaches the podium to ask what the city’s leaders are doing about the Bang Babies.

“Mr. Hawkins, the topic of today’s meeting is budget appropriations,” a woman on the board replies. “There will be a general meeting next month and-“

“This can’t wait a month!” Robert exclaims, hitting his fists against the podium top. “You’re our leader, we put our faith and trust in you when we elected you, but you seem to be forgetting that you serve us, we don’t serve you!”

As the crowd cheers, you lean toward Virgil.

“I’d hate to be on the other side of that,” you whisper. “But you know he’s not attacking you right? He’s just looking out for the greater good.”

“Sounds like your pops took some public speaking classes,” Richie muses.

“Nah,” Virgil replies, “he just gets lots of practice talking to me that way.”

“We all know the police have what’s left of the tanks the gas was in, so why haven’t they been able to trace the owner?” Robert asks.

“Someone’s working on that,” you tell Virgil.

“Batman?” he asks, wide-eyed at the idea.

“Maybe.” You look down at your phone and notice a message from Bruce. “Does the name Alva mean anything to you?” you ask Virgil.

He and Richie turn to each other, then smile at you. “It certainly does. Care to help us out with this one?”

“Better that than send you out alone.”

“Don’t lose him,” Richie instructs from your passenger seat.

“Rich, this isn’t my first time tailing a bad guy, just calm down,” you reply. “Virgil’s listening in on Alva and he’ll let us know about any changes.”

“Guys, Alva is sending someone else to wipe hard drives of mutagen formulas and shipping records,” Virgil says through Richie’s walkie-talkie. “He wants everything saved somewhere else so he can start over.”

“Where’s the lab?” you ask Richie.

“Take the next right,” he instructs. Virgil flies over you, and he amends, “Or just follow him.”

You pull the walkie-talkie from Richie and radio, “Be careful, Virg. We’re right behind you.”

“10-4,” he replies.

When you park behind Alva’s lab, Richie reaches for the door handle, but you stop him.

“We wait here,” you instruct. “If Virg needs help, I’ll go in.”

Several minutes later, after Richie has grown increasingly nervous and antsy, a window on the second floor shatters as Virgil flies out on a metal utility cart. You back out slowly and drive around the back of the building to meet Virgil. He did it alone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have questions or concerns about how and what he did.

“This is everything?” you ask as you hold up the disc.

“Yep. Once the doctors see it, I’ll know if I can stop worrying,” he answers.

“Worrying?” Dick repeats.

“Virgil thinks he’s going to keep mutating like some of the other Bang Babies.”

“Don’t you think that would have happened by now?”

You gesture toward Dick to communicate, see? It’s the logical explanation, and you hope Virgil will see that now.

I missed you, you think as you look at Dick. His eyes are on you as Virgil and Richie theorize what data Alva saved. Dick stands and drops his eyes to your lips.

“Do that again,” he instructs.

“Do what again?” you ask.

“Just…” Dick trails off and places his hand on your shoulder as he leans toward you.

I knew talking to you would make me homesick.

“How close did you get to that mutagen gas?” Dick inquires.

“I don’t know,” you answer, shrugging. “To the fence, so ten yards from the purple cloud, maybe?”

“You were that close to the gas zone, and you didn’t tell me?” Dick asks as he steps back. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” you inquire as Virgil begins arguing against you leaving. “Dick, I can’t leave!”

“You just talked to me without opening your mouth!” he exclaims, tossing his jacket to you. “Something happened to you, and I’m not going to sit around and wait to find out if it gets worse.”

“He didn’t care if I got worse,” Virgil murmurs to Richie.

He’s protective, you think as you glance toward him.

“Whoa! Get your voice out of my head.”

“I’m not trying to do it,” you defend. “What can you hear?”

“Your thoughts, I think,” Dick answers. “I highly doubt you wanted me to hear it.”

“One day,” you tell him, convinced by the idea that you could accidentally share something with someone you trust less. “You have one day to run the tests and then I’m coming back. I can’t leave now, Dick.”

“Fine. We’ll be back. If you need anything, call her.” He passes a card to Virgil and reluctantly adds, “Or him.”

“This is- there’s a-“ Virgil stutters.

“That’s a bat!” Richie exclaims. “Is this Batman’s number?”

“Yes, and if you call him for anything short of an emergency, he will be very mad.”

“Oh, of course,” Virgil agrees. “Good luck.”

“Hey,” you call, looking back. “Whatever answers I get help you, too. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and it’ll work out.”

“You got it, Gotham.”

“Stay you, Static.”

As you follow Dick to his motorcycle, you try to keep your thoughts calm and meaningful. He turns toward you and offers you a helmet, but he lays his hand against your cheek before you can put the helmet on.

“Relax,” he says. “I won’t listen.”

“I don’t want to say – think - something I shouldn’t,” you mumble.

“It’s me. Think whatever you want.”

“Promise not to get scared away if I let a secret slip?”

Dick smiles as he says, “I promise. You’re stuck with me… like static.”

“I don’t see any physical effects of the gas,” Bruce declares. “But you’re clearly telepathic.”

“Great,” you grumble. “Known for my ability to keep secrets and one little explosion opens my brain up to everyone.”

“Quite the opposite,” Bruce corrects. “It seems to me that only people you trust have been able to hear your thoughts, and it’s only active thoughts at this point. With practice, I see no reason you couldn’t gain control and be able to both send and receive message telepathically.”

“How do I practice that?”

“Intentional telepathy. Send thoughts to people rather than speaking, try to get in the head of someone you trust.”

You nod and purse your lips. Dick wants to know what you’re thinking, and, of course, it’s not clear this time.

“You want me to stay, don’t you?” you ask.

“Pure-hearted metahumans are hard to come by. There are more than enough villains and crooks in Gotham who would stop picking fights once a telepath was involved,” Bruce points out. “I’d love to have you with us.”

“I… I want to go back to Dakota. Virgil needs my help and all of those metahumans are just as lost and scared as I am. The difference is that they’re dangerous in their fear. But I know that Gotham needs all the help it can get, too.”

You look to Dick, but he shakes his head and says, “I’m not telling you want to do. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“I’m going back to Dakota,” you declare. “Thank you, Bruce.”

“Of course. You know where to find me if you need anything else or want to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham’s criminals.”

Yet you didn’t answer your phone, you think pointedly.

Bruce shakes his head as the thought enters his mind, and you smile at how easy it is. As you follow Dick out of the Batcave, you know that the road ahead of you won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

“I’ll call this time,” you promise as Dick prepares to return to Blüdhaven. “Thanks for everything, Dick.”

“Any time. Thanks for the glimpse into your mind,” Dick replies, then winks.

“It was never for Gotham. The homesick feeling.”

“What was it for?”

“I think you know, Boy Wonder.”

Dick shakes his head as he slides his helmet over his hair. “I’ll call if you don’t,” he threatens.

“Understood, Nightwing, sir.”

Dick waves as he pulls away from your house. That homesick feeling settles below your concern for Virgil and yourself, and you push it down further as you get ready for work. The community center needs you first.

“Good morning, Robert,” you greet as you enter.

“Good morning. How was your trip to Gotham? I wish you’d taken up my offer to stay longer,” he replies.

“It was good. I refuse to leave you any longer than necessary, especially since I’ve only been here a week.”

“Community, family, it’s what we do here.”

You smile and accept a hot drink from Robert before you walk to your office. Several meetings with female students are on your calendar this afternoon, and you’ve set aside two hours to plan a basketball game fundraiser. The busy day should keep your mind off of Dick, and as long as you keep your thoughts in your own head, it should be a nice return to work.

“Gotham!” Richie yells.

You look up from the paper in your hand and frown. Richie slides to a stop, out of breath, as he points toward the docks.

“Bang Babies, like, all of them,” he pants. “Virg can’t hold ‘em.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s saying. Virgil is alone against a multitude of metahumans with no backup. At least until you arrive. You usher Richie into your car and speed to the entrance of the docks.

“Wait!” Richie yells. “This is for you.”

He hands you a metal case, and you open it quickly. There’s a gray spandex suit covered with black embroidery that you think is meant to be EEG results.

“Brain waves?” you ask, looking at Richie.

 “I know you don’t have a name yet, but Virg and I were messing around and… it should fit.”

You smile and thank Richie before you run into a nearby outbuilding and pull it on. It fits well, though you’re not surprised that Virgil and Richie managed it. As you move through the buildings and shipments surrounding the docks, you count over twenty Bang Babies and see Virgil struggling to hold off at least ten more.

You close your eyes and think about the people you love. Telepathically, you call out – or try to call out – Batman, we need backup in Dakota. The docks. Send everyone you can spare. I love you all.

After adding the last part about loving them, just in case, you jump into the fight. Hotstreak is closest to Virgil, and you invade his mind with thoughts of icebergs and cold water splashing on him. He flinches back as if the water extinguished his flames, and you turn your attention to the next person.

“Is that Batman?” one of the Bang Babies yells.

You don’t turn, focusing on Boom, a metahuman who can generate sonic waves. Once he’s disoriented, Static moves in and pushes him into a shipping container where his power can be contained.

“You called in backup?” Virgil asks.

“I didn’t think they’d come,” you defend.

“Way to have faith in us!” Red Hood yells as he dodges a punch.

Robin tuts behind him, wielding a katana. “You are family, or so they keep telling me.”

“Ebon!” Richie yells from the other side of the fence. “Don’t let him get away, Static!”

“I’ve got Ebon!” you announce. “Static, Replay!”

Johnny Morrow waves at Robin and then splits into several clones of himself.

“I’ve had so much coffee that I was already seeing two of you,” Red Robin taunts. “Come at me, one kid wonder.”

“Are you chasing shadows?” Nightwing asks as he falls into step with you, running toward the lone streetlight over the docks.

“Ebon can slip into the shadows, he can teleport, but if I can see him, I can stop him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly,” you answer after several steps. “Bruce brought the whole family, I see.”

“You sent the message to all of us,” Dick says. “We all boom tubed here.”

“Oh. I’ve got this, go help the others. We’re outnumbered.”

“Be careful!”

Dick turns and pulls his Escrima sticks from their position on his back and taps them together as he moves toward Leech.

“Try to fight without power!” Leech bellows.

“Sorry… no superpowers for you to turn off,” Dick taunts with a smile.

You tune out the sound of the fight behind you as you search for Ebon. Just ahead of you, you can sense someone thinking.

Ebon, you call telepathically. Talon made you sound so scary. I wasn’t expecting you to run from a fight.

He doesn’t reply or move, but you can sense his discomfort with having another voice in his mind.

Since I’m here and you’re a bad host, maybe I should look around for myself.

You navigate to one of his memories, watching in your mind as he fought a Bang Baby. He won, so you dig for another. When you reach a fight from the day after the explosion, Ebon slings his head to the side.

That won’t work, I’m in your mind, not on your head, you explain. Unless you’re ready to come out and face me like a man. Or do you think it’ll go as well as the last time you fought a girl? Her memories are much different than yours.

Ebon launches out of the shadows, and you fill his mind with an image of falling. He crashes to the ground, and Virgil binds him with looping static.

“Try teleporting with the entire dock stuck to your back,” Virgil says.

“How many more?” you ask.

“None. Your, uh, friends are very efficient.”

“Did you hear that?” Red Robin asks. “He called us your friends.”

“If your need for aid has been met, I’d like to return home to Titus,” Robin adds.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply. “Thank you all, for everything. I meant what I said.”

“We know,” Red Hood assures. “See you at family dinner? We know boom tubes work here now, so no excuse!”

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

“Nice work,” Batman applauds. “You, too, Static. Hold on to that card you have.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” Virgil replies.

The boom tube opens behind them, and they step in one after the next. When it closes, you turn and high-five Virgil. He smiles at something over your shoulder before he runs toward Richie to relive every glorious moment. Dick walks toward you, visible now that Virgil isn’t between you.

“I thought you left,” you say, tilting your head to the side.

Dick looks down at your new suit and exhales dramatically. “Bang, baby.”

You laugh and push your hands against his chest, but instead of shoving him backward, you grip his suit and pull him toward you. His lips meet yours, and fireworks explode overhead. You know that they’re real, Virgil’s doing, but you don’t care about that or anything else as Dick wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

You’ve dreamed of this moment for years, thought of it daily since Dick left Gotham, and it’s everything you dreamed it would be. Breathless, you pull back and smile at Dick as he removes his domino mask. You only have a moment before you must leave, make room for the police to take the most dangerous of the Bang Babies in. But, in that moment you have left, you look at Dick and think…

Bang, baby, indeed.

He pulls you close and leads you away from the docks. You both ignore the sirens approaching behind you as you get in your car and drive in the dark to your house.

“It’s a nice suit,” Dick mentions after you change out of it.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You know I always will. I’ve been homesick without you, too.”

You lean in to kiss Dick again, and just before your lips meet, you think, I love you, Dick Grayson.

[chimkinnuget]

hey Mr puzzles enjoyers . hi . Im stanley and uhhhh

what if I made . A Mr. Puzzles x reader fic inspired by Beauty and the Beast/Bride of Discord

what if…..

( click here if you’re interested! )

[sovksluv]

static

✰ . pairing - ex!Luke Castellan x italian!fem!singer!reader smau collection

✰ . summary - very important rule; never dump a singer. ever. Luke Castellan however, did not listen.

✰ . includes - main smau series w/ additional blurbs !!

✰ . series taglist - @sluttysammyy

✰ . pjo taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303 @st4rzl7

✰ . now playing - Static by Alexis Munroe

✰ . a/n - first smau i hope you guys like this !! im so excited to make this because Alexis is like my #1 singer rn 💕 also reader is italian because so am i ! and its the only other language i know so 🤷‍♀️ if it bothers you, just pretend its different !

✰ . series

✰ . chapter 1 - GTYU2K

✰ . chapter 2 - Burn

✰ . chapter 3 - Language

✰ . chapter 4 - Rejects (feat. Lil Lotus)

✰ . chapter 5 - Rejects - Acoustic

✰ . chapter 6 - Static

✰ . extras

✰ . installment 1 - Language (italian ver.)

✰ . installment 2 - 24 (feat. Maggie Lindemann)

✰ . installment 3 - i miss you

© sovksluv 2024, please do not repost or translate my work!

[karinadele]

Waiting for the Night

Idw Megatron x Reader

No warnings! Gen reader!

Follow up to my earlier megs post, i think i want to start a series/collection on the lost light crew pit stopping on earth.

We always have fics of liaisons onboard the ship, but never how they met/the crew interacting with earth. Gonna have to be multiverse cause otherwise it dont make sense!! I wanted to do holoforms to make things linear, but if i shove it into multiverse maybe they can just not?? lmao??

i think i'll do little drabbles of each bot and their adventures??

Megs is gonna be the one with the singer/songwriter

loosely stole reader converting meg's poems' idea from @infintyfandoms!!

Earth, Kilocycle 2025 (tentative lmaaoo)

Lost light lands on earth for a quick refuel and sightseeing, (and hope Rodimus doesn't get into shit)

Megatron is rather uncomfortable about this whole thing as he’s been on earth before… and the fact he caused many issues on it.

As they approach earth’s atmosphere, making contact with earth governments and space agencies.

The crew’s excited. 

While the crew only carried Shanix, the governments of different countries are more than happy to start a bidding war over it. Creating a new form of a currency and by consequence, a new stock market over it.

Megatron's plan's are simple, do what they need to do, stay out of trouble.

Of course that never plays out, one thing after another, next thing you know, Rodimus is dragging them to a human concert.

You're a singer/songwriter, and here you are, on the latest tour. Last stop before the leg ends, tired but still very excited. How can you not! Seeing fans come out to support you -some of them even tagging along every city to view you perform.

What you didn't expect to have found at your concert were Cybertronians. It's been decades that Earth has accepted them as an intergalactic species. -The first ones to come in contact with your planet.

Regardless, performing for a different alien species was definitely not part of your bucket list. But! Definitely a welcomed one!

Rodimus only managed to score a few tickets, (he could have gotten more, but venue limits was not very happy about filling in the whole stadium with nothing but bots) (bring ur favorites ig)

(I'm slotting in rod/megs/drift/i want mags but i know he'll get a headache lMAAOO)

(wish i can bring blaster/soundwave/jazz/the ones still on cybertron -aka AU that shit where they are on lost light!!)

You and your band perform away. (I prefer band?? Could be solo artist too?? omg what if each band member gets their own little arc with a bot lmaaooo)

The bots spend their time sipping highgrade and enjoy the performance.

Megatron especially latched onto the lyrics.

Rodimus fucks with the drums and beat

Drift is vibing along, probably fucks with the lyrics as haikus and melody (can we get him a japan arc)

Ultra Magnus want's to die, but eventually warms up to it after a couple drinks and primus he is dancing away. (alternatively if its an outdoor venue and you want spicy, mf totally strips his armor lMAAOO)

Soundwave is 100% recording without consent

Blaster is actually enjoying and dancing away

While it's not like Cybertronians never had music or performances back on Cybertron, they were totally different from Earth's version. Top it off with millions of years of war, it basically was foreign. Besides, listening to songs for the first time live without prior knowledge is difficult. But not for Megatron. Something about the flow of the lyrics and melody drew him in.

It felt like a poem. A piece of writing animated into life, becoming an artform. One that's being presented in front of his very own optics.

Performance arts. As he was told. And now he understood why.

(insert his rambling and thoughts about xyz songs, i have not decided what songs/if i write my own shit lmaaoo someone analyze music with me from their perspective!!)

After the performance, you and your band are catching a break in the backrooms. (Can go several routes, either obsessive!megs rescans your tour bus and takes the form ((i seriously cant see it)) or through ~intergalactic~ powers with the governments or whoever, managed to secure vvip slots and manages to meet you)

You two hit it off. (Romantic or platonic i did not decide!!)

Spending the time Megatron has on earth discussing music, lyrics writing, songwriting, and poetry. You explain that Earth music is a very similar to poetry, Often starts off as that, incorporated into a melody. Or vice versa.

You also explain that Earth has several languages, and you often pull elements from them to combine them into a song.

Hearing this, Megatron was excited. Over the sort time, he's warmed up to you and wanted to share his writings with you, but being more on the reserved side, he didn't want to open himself up like that yet. (Yet you did lmao??) But hearing that you enjoy languages and analyzing works from all different places made him finally sheepishly share some of his writings. (Alternatively crack reader version, you scurry like a fucking raccoon and steal his works, i know i would)

You find his writing absolutely beautiful. Originally having him translate his works from Cybertronian into English, as time restrain never allowed you to learn the language.

You don't tell him, but you're already planning to convert his works into music. (Romantic divergence you write it just for him, platonic you perform it for everyone. Give him royalties!! Shanix is a proper currency now!! You start playing the Shanix market with profit from his share, saving it for next time he comes back.) (honestly even romantic route can be performed live, just when LL comes back again)

Ideally you keep in touch with him even when he's departed Earth and back on LL adventures. (If you want angst, we can make it not lmaoaoo)

You already spend plenty of time studying language and songs of the world, but paid extra attention to Cybertronian after this encounter. Wanting to understand the meeting behind his poems. As Cybertronian, is a complex language, a different system that's extremely versatile and open ended when it comes to context.

Spending time translating, and re-writing his thoughts into English, you eventually dedicate a song (or album if you won the right type of adhd ig)

Years later, the LL returns back (we ignore the fact LL timeline is a mess and has multiple alternate dimensions) and either from him keeping in touch with you, or because he hunted your band down with the ~world wide web~ you two reunite and you perform the song.

Album version would have the whole band performing, but special for this concert, you adjusted the set list to a ballad with only an either guitar/keyboard synth/piano version.

Megatron found the performance to be haunting. Even though he's in the farthest rows, vision isn't an issue for Cybertronians. A simple zoom and he can see everything up close. The way your lips tremble with each vibrato, the way you have your eyes closed as you keep on beat with your hands, even the way your voice nearly cracks and how you're choking back tears in the verses. Raw emotion. Emotion he never knew how to portray during his time as a Decepticon leader. Yet wanted to so badly since the days of a miner. He's finally found peace in his spark of what he meant.

Every verse and chorus was created with his writing. A powerful display of passion strung together from his words. One that his very spark flares to the beat of.

[dickmedowndc]

Hero Crush - Virgil Hawkins x Reader

Word Count: 1,515

Summary: When Richie starts asking about your younger years, he learns something interesting about your old teenage hero crush – it was Static. Unaware of your friends’ secret identities, Virgil has to try and remain collected after Richie calls him in ASAP, only to hear you defending your old puppy-love crush on the electric hero from an all too amused, and momentarily vexing, blond.

Notes: I just rewatch Static Shock a lot, okay, don’t @ me – Sparky needs some love. I can hardly find anything for him, so I shall make the content. 

Part II here

…★…

“See, I need you to repeat that,” Richie chided, leaning forward with sudden rapt attention – one hand absent-mindedly playing with his earring. 

You could only huff, shoving his face away from you before leaning back, your cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment. “I don’t know your game here, Foley, but you can knock that self-satisfied look right off your dumb smug face.” You couldn’t be sure where his sudden interest had come from in your answer, but that look he was giving you said that you likely didn’t want to know either. 

“No, I really need to hear you say it again: who was your childhood crush?” 

The smile threatening to take over on his face was hard to ignore, but you pushed it aside, glaring at his mocking attempt of being serious. “It was Static!” You bark out, throwing your hands up in frustration. “You’re acting like I was the only teenager who had a major crush on him.” 

Richie held his hands up in surrender. “True, you weren't – there was a line of girls and guys waiting to plant one on him.” 

You can’t help the huff of laughter that slips past your lips, though you’re still trying to hold onto your irritated persona with the blond in front of you. “There still is,” you finally chime, leaning back. 

Richie seems like he’s about to agree, or make some sort of smart remark, before a devious grin finds its way onto his face. “Actually -” 

That’s all the warning you get before he leans back with his hands cupped around his mouth and shouts. “VIRG!” 

And just when you thought you could avoid another noise complaint from the neighbors. 

“Man, Richie, why’d you have to yell so loud? I bet they heard you all the way on the Watchtower,” Virgil gripes, finger in his ear as he shakes his head in a show of over dramatics. Still, he makes his way forwards before finding a seat next to you on the couch. 

“I was just playing twenty questions with our resident dork here,” he chimes, gesturing towards you. 

“He was interrogating me,” you interrupt. 

“I was curious!” He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose when they’re knocked loose from his jolt backwards. “But I really think you need to hear this one, Virgil.” 

You can only roll your eyes, leaning as far back into the couch as you can – praying to any deity listening that it opens and swallows you whole before you can embarrass yourself. Richie will get you to admit it, one way or the other, and it’s always easier to go along with what he wants when he seems this determined than it is to find out whatever information he has hidden away on you and ready to hold, affectionately, over your head as leverage. “Richie asked who my teenage crush was,” you say, turning towards Virgil but refusing to make eye contact, “and I said it was Static.” 

You do finally look to the man beside you when you hear him choke on his own drink. “I’m sorry – did you say Static?” 

“Why are you guys acting like that’s so surprising!” 

Richie seems to shoot a knowing look at Virgil, one you can’t quite decipher, and it only fuels your fire. Though you can at least acknowledge it seems to have ticked off something in Virgil who is staring Richie down like he can set him ablaze with his mind. 

Richie pays no mind to Virgil’s apparent telepathic attempts at threatening him, turning his attention back to you instead. “I mean, why Static though?” 

You scoff, insulted he would say such a thing and ready to defend your choice. “Well for starters, because I have good taste, so jot that down Foley.” 

You pause and glance at Virgil when you hear him honest to god snort before he hides his face behind his hand. 

“And secondly, have you seen him in action? I mean come on! Listen, he’s gotta be roughly our age. And he was cute when we were younger, and he’s hot now.” 

Virgil interrupts you this time, leaning in. “Wait, are you saying you still have a thing for him?” 

You flush at that before straightening up and staring him down. “What of it?” 

Virgil says nothing, but you can see the embarrassed look he hides a moment later when he takes a long sip of his drink. 

Then it’s back to the blond who started this all. Richie is laughing, looking back at an awkward Virgil – for a reason you can’t place – and seeming all too amused with the situation at hand. “Was there like, a moment that solidified it or was it a gradual thing?” 

You actually have to pause and think at that, eyes fixed on the floor and face scrunched up in consideration. Almost three minutes pass before you can finally give your honest answer. “It was gradual for a bit, I think, but then there was one fight in particular that just,” you click your tongue and absently wave your hand, “ya know, sold it.” 

“Oh, please enlighten us.” 

“You know, you really seem to be enjoying this.” you huff, arms crossed as you stare down the man seated in front of you. 

“Consider it my payment since I was outvoted on our movie tonight.” Again, he shoots a look at Virgil, who at least has the decency to give him an apologetic shrug. 

Sure, the electric hero hadn’t wanted to see the movie you had put up on the table, but when your eyes had lit up talking about it Virgil was sold – breaking the tie between you and Richie in your favor. He had popcorn thrown at him all night in retaliation while you weren’t looking, but it had been worth it. 

Your resigned sigh brings everyone back to the present as you close your eyes, face scrunched up again and nose held between your fingers like you’re willing away a headache. Suddenly you shift forward, elbows to your knees as you recount it. “Fine - so it was one of the times when he was fighting Hotstreak – I don’t remember how long ago. But for some reason he had his sleeves rolled up and his glasses down. And firstly, that was already, like.” You falter, trying to find the words before just making the ‘perfect’ sign with your hand. “But then! This huge wall of fire went at him and Static made this barrier with his powers. This huge glowing field of electricity that surrounded him.” You taper off, embarrassed at how animated you had gotten recounting it. “That was it, I’d say.” 

Richie seems all too pleased with this information, and he’s staring you down in a way that tells you he’s biting his tongue so something doesn’t slip out. It’s vexing, really. Virgil, you notice on the other hand, seems completely embarrassed by your admission – and for your life you can’t understand why that is. 

“You know what I think,” Richie starts. 

“I’d rather not.” 

Your plea goes ignored. 

“I think that when you see Static you should just plant a kiss right on his cheek.” 

You stare at Richie incredulously, “I’m not doing that.” 

“You should.” 

You don’t try to argue with him, only looking to Virgil for any sort of desperate help before you throttle the blond and take your trio to a duo. 

Hawkins is as much help as a wet piece of end bread – which is to say, absolutely none. But he is doing a better job at molding himself into the couch than you were earlier, and you’ll give him credit for that, even if his actions have you puzzled. 

It’s all the more reason he’s endearing, you muse quietly to yourself. 

You catch Richie’s knowing smirk from the corner of your eye and turn to him with a look that has him reeling back. As though he understands the threat at hand should he say anything to allude to your painfully obvious crush on Virgil. But he never would, and you know that. You’ve been friends with the pair long enough that you think you’d trust them over the local heroes to have your back. 

Finally, the topic changes and you can breathe a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping and tension leaving your body. 

And days later, when Static has his next fight – well, maybe you notice a little faster when faced with an older version of Static pulling the same stunt that had your teenage heart swooning those few years before. The icing on top is when someone from the crowd asks him to say one of his old lines and he decides to humor them, just for a moment. “The name’s Static, I’ll put a shock to your system.” punctuated with a wink as he finally pushes his shades from his face. 

If it has any effect on you that’s your own business, and you’ll take that knowledge to the grave, no matter how much Virgil and Richie bring it up with an all-too-knowing glint.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

📼Static AU Snippet:

Their baby was shaking.

The two bodies of the imposters, those sick, undeserving pretenders, were laying in forming puddles of blood, which seeped into the floorboards and carpet, leaving a thick metallic smell behind.

They didn't mean for their little kit-cat to see this.

None of them meant for kit-cat to see this.

Their little one is crying, their regrowing claws digging into their thin skin, leaving small gashes and spilling little trails of scarlet red.

That won't do.

"Shhhh... it's okay, kitten, it's alright..." they croon, trying to comfort their kid. But all they do is cry harder, shivering, and their little claws digging in deeper.

Oh, they don't want to do this... None of them do... But they need to calm their kit-cat down before they hurt themself more.

"Shhhh... hold still, baby... Hold still for me, hmmm?" they say, scooping up Reader as they sob, tears running down their cheeks. They're quick to wipe them away with a swipe of their finger, cooing lightly as they pat their kitten's back. "That's it, let it all out, baby, just relax for us, 'kay? Shhhhhh..."

They bounce them on their hip for a moment, trying to soothe them, stop their tears, distract them from the sedative-

"O-ow!"

They pat their kitten's back as one of the others removes the needle, shushing them and bouncing them a little more. Their cries are quieting, their sobs fading away. They swipe any stray tears from their cheeks, kissing their forehead softly.

"Mmmmm... h-hurt..."

"Shhhhh... I know, sweetie, I know... I know your body feels all yucky and hurty and achey... Shhhh... The medicine should help you feel better, okay?" They watch with rapt attention as their little one starts to sink against them, the sedative making them sleepy. They smile gently at them, rubbing their shoulders.

"Feeling tired, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Little hands are now gripping at them, tiny fingers curling amd uncurling as their kit-cat drifts off, small claws pricking them lightly. Their head lolls against them, their tiny mouth opening and closing, their eyes blinking shut.

"Hmmmmmmm... that's it, kit-cat, go to sleep... Just let us take care of you, okay? Hmmmmmm..." they hum, stroking the head of their passed out kitten. They chuckle, pressing another kiss to their forehead, before turning to stare at their teammates.

"Okay, team, let's bring Reader home..."

And then they're all heading back through the screen, the static warping and cracking around them-

Then they're back in the mansion, and Reader is back where they belong, home safe and warm with them~♡

( @thewickedweiner and @sugar-soda Who do you think was holding and trying to comfort baby Reader?)

[heartfullofleeches]

Static Melody

Yan Monster + Sleepyhead Reader Drabble

-

Awake before noon-

That's a new record!

As days go by in slumbering limbo, it gets a little tricky to recall a time you and the sun were up at the same hour. This untapped surge of energy is unknown to you; mental fog of fatigue disbursing for the first time in years. It feels like you can do anything. You can take on the world- You can finally clean beneath your bed like you've been planning to for months. You can't even remember what make you so tired all the time in the first place.

"Dream....Dar....ling.... Dream....."

...What's that?

"Close your eyes.... Realize... I have been with you all along..."

That song again.... You woke up to it playing on your computer one night after you had dozed off, falling right back under the spell of sleep as that saccharine played overhead. An earworm which refuses to relinquish you from its shackles - striking when you least expect.

"Dream, Darling, Dream- Tomorrow may drift us apart, but as long as I'm in your heart-'"

You jolt at the pop of static; head drooping to your shoulder as the lullaby continues on. Like a match to water, the flames of your spirit sizzle out as your body bends to the familiar outline left in your mattress.

Tomorrow. You'll get up bring and early for sure. Tomorrow.....

Thin, emaciated fingers outstretch from the oily darkness beneath your bed; draping your fallen sheets over your shoulder as you drift off. You shutter as its icy touchy ghosts cross your cheek, slipping into a peaceful slumber as it quickly adapts to the heat of your skin - stroking your face lovingly.

[chocolatori]

Tendou recalls when he realized he had fallen in love with you.

It didn’t start off as a romance, and it wasn’t even a friendship either but he does recall the first time he ever saw you. It was a hot summer morning when you first walked into the door of his dainty cafe accompanied by the soft chime of the bell, the first time you have walked into his life. 

It was odd that you struck him so much at first glance. He wasn’t exactly looking for love at that time, but he knows for sure that he wants to fall in love at some point in his life. One that he often reads in his shoujo mangas, he had always been curious if falling in love would be something like that. If it would be as euphoric as the stories and movies he has seen. 

You became a regular customer since then. He had never known that his thoughts could be too sweet like the chocolates he makes. He never wanted to be near to you but he always deeply regret the moments he could have been close to you or the moments he could have talked to you. He always struggled to compose himself in your presence and his heart could beat so fast like a parade of soldiers on a marching spree. 

He vividly remembers the first time you made a conversation with him. You are kind, he thinks. It was a mundane question, something along the lines of what was his favorite on the menu. Because apparently, you haven’t tried everything on their menu yet. 

Since then, you would ask what he could recommend on their menu and it wasn’t the same vanilla latte you would buy every day. And since then he has found himself making something special just for you. 

You started making conversations with him, about how irritating one of your professors are to how you were always on the run to catch the train just not to miss a class. 

And he always listens, and he never interrupts. 

And sometimes he wonders if you also talk about these things to someone else. If there’s someone who’s also this eager to hear your stories.

He never had the guts to ask for your number, but he was able to get your name at least. You call him Tendou, and sometimes he would wish you call him by his first name. 

It’s one of those really slow days where there aren’t really many customers that come in, but that always changes everything once his favorite customer has arrived. He gave your order and he was ready to see you off already when you suddenly spoke to him.

“Who is responsible for the music here?” You ask, and he turns to you. 

“Oh, that would be me too,” Tendou replies with a smile.

“For real?”

“I have always loved the music that plays here, one of the reasons I kept on coming back here aside from the food,” you chuckle.

“I guess we have the same music taste then,” he quips as he props his arms on the counter.

“I have always wanted to talk to that person,” you tell him.

“I think I kind of have a tiny crush on him,” you trail off.

“Just tiny?” he inquires.

And you laugh, your laugh that soothes his mind and lightens his day.

The truth is he hates summer, but that one summer morning changed everything. 

He does not like the muggy, sticky, claustrophobic, hot days. He does not like the bugs that buzz and bite and the insect repellent at night, but he’s willing to spend his entire life with every season of you.

[theconstantsidekick]

so tempted to write him into the static verse SO FUCKING TEMPTED

[mitsundere]

as an avid rofan enjoyer ur so right about gepard being 2nd ml coded 😭 HE'S SUCH A PERFECT FIT he would be suspicious of fl at first (if they first meet like mc did in jarilo) but then warm up to her and become friends and then she'd show him how to take care of himself and not be such a workaholic and maybe they meet by chance when he patrols omfg the possibilities...and then gepard realizes way late he has a crush (and he's at a disadvantage bc he isn't a black haired cold duke of the north who the fl is in an arranged marriage with) and he blushes sm around her even though he knows perfectly well how to be chivalrous he just makes more mistakes and blanks out....and tries to grow flowers that remind him of her...but keeps his distance bc she's married and gets heartbroken when he sees fl and cold duke growing closer and closer </3 (i yapped a little sorry lmao) i can count on one hand the manhwas with mls that remind me of him and that's something that needs to change Right Now

YOU GET MEEEE he drowns himself in his work again to try and distract himself, but he's still clearly affected by it 💔 when he overworks himself, he gets reminded of the FL's concern for him and he just. suffers more. like i'm gonna need to get isekai'd or something to help mend his broken heart (another trope i adore /coughs)...

imagine him with a person he's never met before, showering him in so much love and affection.. he wouldn't know what to do!!! gepard is still the polite nobleman that he is, but his politeness keeps people at a distance rather than pull them towards him (which is understandable since everyone in the nation knows about his recent heartbreak). yet this person keeps approaching him. constantly asks about his day, how he's feeling, etc. and even offers to try doing his work for him just to ease the burden off his shoulders.

and it works. the servants are the first to notice the change, then his sisters, and gepard is the last person to realize that his chest doesn't hurt as much anymore, or he isn't feeling as exhausted as usual.

over time, he started avoiding the garden he loved so much because it brought about painful memories of him and the FL. the one time he visits it again, he sees that person watering the flowers that reminded him of the FL. they don't notice him, but he has the opportunity to see the way the morning sun shines on their disheveled hair and blessing their cheeks with warmth. the dirt on their garments. the silly little tune they hummed and the gentle smile on their face—

gepard knows this feeling blooming in his chest all too well, and for the first time in months, he doesn't mind being in this garden again

[illneverrecover]

static voice pt 2 | kth (M)

➛pairing: Demon Taehyung x Fallen Angel Reader (ft. bff Angel Jin) ➛summary: It's been weeks since his healing, and yet you still have a lingering demon house guest - something your best friend isn't going to let you ignore. However, with more time that passes, you realize... do you even want him to leave? ➛genre: Angel/Demon!AU, fluff, humor, eventual smut ➛word count: 3741 ➛rating: 18+ for this installment, please check each part for rating as there will be smut ➛warnings: cursing, some quick descriptions of violence, some heavy petting. ➛notes: Demon Taehyung demanded a full story line, and here we are. Shout out to static voice anon who started this whole thing by sending a simple ask -- you have no idea how much your encouragement means! And as always, sending love to @allbutmemorywillfade who sent in the original prompt which lead to the creation of these sweet dinguses, and who has been nothing but supportive & kind. You're too good to me 🖤 This is rough edited and unbeta'd bc I have no patience whatsoever. ➛song: Mine - Sleep Token & I Can See You - Taylor Swift ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @quinnkoo, @thatlongspringnight​

It’s Sunday morning, and there is currently a demon folding laundry on your bed.

Everything about that sentence should be blasphemous, and yet, it’s become normal. Well, normal for you. Certainly not normal for any other Fallen you’ve ever known. 

Taehyung’s brow furrows as he concentrates, sorting the mass of clothes first into piles before making way to fold each piece. His hands are precise, fingers lining up each seam as he works, eyes only leaving his work to dart towards the TV playing something in the background. He liked having something on for noise, he had explained, and who were you to question someone willing to fold your clothes?

Jin would say that your use of that argument is what led to having a demon for a roommate in the first place, which is exactly why you keep these kinds of thoughts to yourself - you didn’t ask for that kind of negativity. 

Not that there was any downside that you could see. Sure, you hadn’t asked Taehyung what his plan was yet, but you also hadn’t needed to. He was the epitome of a perfect house guest, slotting into your life easily and effortlessly. He was considerate, always offering to assist with any healings that he could; from triaging those who showed up at the door, to talking with them softly while you worked, easing their anxieties with a few kind words. And in those difficult sessions where there was nothing for him to do, he offered what he could - his presence, his reassurance.

It made you feel safe, knowing that he was on your side, no matter what you opened your door to. 

“Does this need a hanger, or am I supposed to fold this?” 

Taehyung holds the garment pinched between his fingers, eyes peering up to meet yours. It’s a black silky dress, mostly held together with string and a prayer, and you know for a fact it was something you hadn’t worn recently - let alone put in the wash. 

Heat creeps up your neck, and you fight the embarrassing urge to rip the fabric out of his hands and throw it out the window. The demon blinks at you with wide blue eyes, and you wonder not for the first time if he’s fucking with you. 

The other thing about Taehyung is that he’s impossible to read. His ability to go from the aloof affectionate demon who cuddles with your cat to the flirty winky man who drops innuendos in your kitchen leaves your head spinning. Worst of all - at least, to you - is that nothing has happened since that night at your place four weeks ago. Other than a few lingering glances that leave you questioning, Taehyung has made no more comments about his desires, which you try not to think about. Even if it’s driving you crazy. 

“That needs a hanger - though I have no idea how that ended up with the laundry, I haven’t worn it in ages.”

It was something you had purchased on a spontaneous whim, back when you had first become Fallen. It had made you feel sexy, powerful; and you had nowhere to wear it, so it had lived its life mostly stuffed in the back of your closet. 

“Oh, I put it there,” Taehyung says, nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I was going through your closet to see if there were some things you could donate to that shifter that you healed two nights ago and found it crumpled on the floor. It was too beautiful to leave in that condition.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, you instead fix him with a glare. 

“Oh? So you were aware it needed a hanger,” you grumble, though there’s no heat in your tone. “And what am I supposed to do with it now? It’s not very practical to wear for healing,” scoffing, you nod towards the dress. 

“I disagree,” Taehyung sniffs, placing the garment on the hanger before laying it down on the bed delicately, smoothing it over with a palm. “I think the sight of you in that dress could be healing in more ways than you could imagine.” 

Suddenly, the air in the room was stifling and you forget how words work, instead just blankly staring at the demon on your bed. He looks up at you, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, and before you can formulate a response, a loud sound interrupts from the other room. 

“HEY! Lucky, you asshole, I’m trying to walk!” Jin yells, clearly fighting a battle with the cat in the foyer of the apartment. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“In here!” you call out, moving to grab the dress off the bed and put it in the closet before the angel sees. You’re not sure why you feel the need to hide it from him, but the last thing you need is him doing something to embarrass you - especially after Taehyung managed to fluster you so thoroughly. 

Jin bumps the door open with his hip, his arms full of plastic bags, various groceries sticking out of each. “These are the groceries I owe you after eating all your last ones,” he announces, eyes scanning the scene he’s walked into. “I want it to be known for the record.”

“Hi, Jin!” your demon roommate greets, moving to stand. “Want me to put these away for you? I was just finishing up laundry.”

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, and you do your best to ignore the pointed question he was daggering into your skull, instead answering for him. “That would be great, Tae. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tae,” Jin echos, sliding the bags easily into the blonde’s arms. “We’ll  meet you out there in a second.” 

You’re about to mouth off about how Jin isn’t your father and he doesn’t get to order anyone around, least of all you- but Taehyung is already acquiescing, leaving the bedroom with the soft click of the door.

“So, he folds your laundry for you now, too? What’s next, he gets your dry cleaning? On Wednesdays, are you going to drink wine and do face masks?”

Tsking, you cross your arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jin. We both know I don’t have dry cleaning, and face masks are part of Smut and Skincare Sundays.”

This time, the angel doesn’t hide his annoyance in his glare.

“Come on, you know what I mean. I get why you haven’t kicked him out, but…” he sighs, plopping himself on the edge of your mattress. “What are you doing? What is he doing? What’s the end goal here?”

It’s what you’ve been asking yourself these last few weeks, and yet you’re no closer to coming to answer now than you were before. All you know is that you enjoy having him around, and something about the unreadable lanky demon being nearby gives you a sense of peace you haven’t felt since before becoming a Fallen. A feeling of comfort, of safety - and you’re terrified of losing it. 

“I don’t know, Jin. I just know that I don’t mind having him around,” you avoid his eyes, instead rounding the bed to finish putting away the clothes. “It’s nice having help with the healings, especially with the late night calls. You know I don’t like being alone here.”

You leave the other piece unsaid - that you don’t like being alone, at all. That Taehyung’s warm, infectious laughter and mischievous charm added light back into your once dark, monotonous days. That it felt like he belonged there - but that you have no idea how he feels, at all. 

The silence is heavy, as if Jin could read your mind, but if he does he doesn’t say anything, instead letting loose a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to be a hard ass or anything, but I am trying to look out for you.” 

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“I know that, too.”

“At least promise me you’ll talk to him about what his plans are? If he intends on staying here indefinitely, or…” Jin pauses then, as if he doesn’t want to even go down the route. “Whatever. But promise me you’ll discuss it?”

He reaches out then, stopping you in your tracks until you meet his eyes. There’s no longer any annoyance there, just genuine concern, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel any more at ease. 

“Yes, Dad,” you tease, shaking your hand free with a grin. “I promise I’ll talk to him. But it’s certainly not going to be in front of you, so it’ll have to wait for tonight.” 

“Fair enough,” Jin moves to stand, reaching for your door. “Just make it soon, okay?”

He closes the door behind him, and you hear his voice joining Taehyung’s in the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Why are you so scared to talk to Taehyung? It has nothing to do with his status as a demon, something you barely noticed outside of his beauty; you could tell he was a genuine being, regardless of his beginnings. And he’s easy enough to talk to, has been nothing but a perfect gentleman of a roommate. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s because it’ll be an awkward conversation, one that has the potential to make him feel awkward as well, something that you don’t want in the least. But if you’re honest - truly, deeply honest - it’s because you’re scared that he will leave, and you’re not sure that you want that at all, anymore. 

Actually, you know you don’t want that anymore.

The answer seems simple enough, then - have the discussion, ask him to stay. 

But why does the thought of asking him make you feel like you’re swallowing glass?

“You better come out here if you want to help pick dinner!” Jin yells, and shakes you from your thoughts. 

Joining them in the kitchen, you see they made quick work of putting away the groceries, leaving the counters clear with the exception of a few paper take-out menus. 

“Grocery shopping exhausts me,” Jin explains, nodding towards the array of menus. “It’s my treat, just let me know what sounds good and I’ll go pick it up. I promised Tae I’d stay for a movie.” 

After settling on a local Thai place, Jin calls in the order before heading out, demanding that you both are on movie selection duty in his absence. 

Plopping yourself onto the couch, Taehyung joins you, sitting side by side so close that your thighs are pressed together. Ignoring the building heat his proximity brings, you quickly grab the remote, scrolling through various streaming options trying to settle on something that you’d all like. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung interrupts, voice low.

“Of course.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?”

Tearing your eyes from the TV, you focus on his ethereal face illuminated in the flickering light of the screen, on the intensity in his eyes. He looks distant; his gaze still bright, but more serious than usual, more lost. 

“What do you mean, Tae?”

He sighs, a mixture of resignation and something more. “I mean, what if I wasn’t a demon? What if I hadn’t been injured, or it had happened in another district with a different healer? What if you hadn’t Fallen? Would our paths still have crossed?”

His eyes are a bright cerulean blaze, more solemn than you’ve ever seen him before, and it has you frozen in place. It feels like he’s asking you something much bigger, much more vulnerable than he’s letting on, and it makes your throat tighten. 

Meeting his stare, you reach for him, taking one of his hands into your own. “I believe that some connections are meant to happen, regardless of the circumstances,” you reply, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “We could have made different decisions, but ultimately, our souls found each other and brought us together.” 

It’s then you realize just how close you are, how close his face is to your own, how his body is pressed up against every inch of your side. The intimacy of your words and your bodies has you feeling exposed, and yet you can’t seem to pull away. 

Taehyung’s gaze meets yours, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “You really think that? That some connections are destined?”

“Of course I do,” you nod, and his answering smile is almost blinding. Sliding his hand away from yours, he instead launches into a hug, pulling you to his chest. 

“Thank you for saying that. You really have a way with words, you know,” Taehyung murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You have no idea how much peace your presence brings me, Angel. It’s something that I thought I’d lost forever.” 

His words have your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your tongue thick with the things you want to say. You’re even more affirmed in your decision to ask him to stay, pulling out of his embrace to do just that, when a loud knock at the door startles you both. 

“Hello? Is this where the Fallen healer lives?” a male voice calls out, one you don’t recognize. “Please, I just need some healing - are you home? Hello?”

Moving to open the door, you wait until you hear Taehyung follow in step behind you before answering. Leaving the chain lock in place, you open the door enough to peer into the hall. “Yes, how can I help?” 

A demon stands there – the tiny horns barely visible in his dark hair – black like his wrinkled suit. He was dressed like he either just left some sleazy bar or was on the way to one, though based on the stale whisky scent emanating from him, you’d guess both. 

He gives a low whistle, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Damn, they didn’t mention how pretty you are, just that you were the closest healer. If I wasn’t so hungover, I might try to shoot my shot, but at the present, I-” 

“Nevermind, I’m not home,” you deadpan, moving to close the door, when the demon's foot stops it from shutting completely. 

“Please, wait! I’m sorry, you’re right, that was rude of me–” he starts frantically, clearly not wanting you to leave. “Listen, I’m just really, painfully hungover, and I have a big meeting I have to get to with some guys that I do not want to piss off and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. I just need a little healing, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His hands wring together, and you notice how much his teeth are working his bottom lip, the tinges of his fear evident despite his bravado.

Glaring at him, you sigh heavily before peering over your shoulder to lock eyes with Taehyung. If all he needed was a little hangover cure, it should be simple enough of a healing without taking too much of your energy, and then he could be on his way. Easy enough. When your demon gives you a reassuring nod, you turn back to the stranger. 

“Fine, a quick healing, and then you leave me alone.” 

“Yes, of course! Thank you, seriously,” he continues, pausing as you unlatch the chain and open the door to let him inside. “I really appreciate it.” 

Standing in the entryway, it’s once he closes the door behind himself that the stranger finally notices Taehyung, eyes narrowing. “What’s another demon doing here?”

“He helps me,” you reply, giving the same simple answer you give anytime the question is asked by a creature looking for your services. At the end of the day, it’s none of their business who he is and why he is with you, and the less information given, the better. “We’ll do the healing down the hall.”

Moving to get your supplies, you go to show him to your workspace but he’s still paused, glaring at Taehyung. 

“What, he helps you, you help him, that kinda thing?” he sneers, speaking to you but still only looking at Tae. “Can’t say I blame him, you really are a looker. I bet you’re really fun to play with.”

Temper snapping at his words, you spin on your heel to point to the door. “That’s it, you’re done. Get out.” 

Before the demon can utter a reply, Taehyung is in his face, as if he was waiting for your unspoken signal to spring into action. Holding him in place with a fist in his suit jacket collar, he shakes the demon once, walking him backwards toward the door. “You heard her. Leave now, and do not return.” 

“Come on! Can’t you take a little joke?” the asshole shouts, any pretense of niceties fully falling away. “It’s just a quick healing, you sensitive bitch!” 

You can feel the change in the atmosphere when Taehyung tenses, his form seemingly trembling with restraint as his pupils blow out until his eyes are black. “You’re going to regret that,” he murmurs, a sinister smirk on his lips.

A bright light has you covering your eyes, slowly blinking until you can make out the form of Jin, his wings fully spread and an angelic dagger in tow.  The Thai food was still in bags in his other hand, Jin clearly returning from his trip only to walk into a different kind of battle.

Dropping the bags by the door, he saunters into the room.

“He’s right, you will regret that,” Jin says, voice even, “but you’re going to have to deal with me now, instead.” 

Plucking the demon out of Taehyung’s hold, Jin tugs him into a headlock, placing the blade at the bottom of his throat before turning toward the door. “Taehyung, why don’t you make sure our girl here is all taken care of while I take care of the trash, will you?” 

He waits for Taehyung’s nod, and then Jin looks at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you affirm, stepping closer to Taehyung. 

“I’ll come check on you guys later.” He nods, and then he’s out the door, a bright light streaming through the cracks as it closes. 

And then, it’s just the two of you.

Taehyung immediately springs into action, arms sliding around your shoulders as he guides you to the couch, draping a blanket around you once you settle. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, he continues his task, moving next into the kitchen to put the take out in the oven to keep warm before putting the kettle on for tea. Finally, he searches through the newly stocked pantry for a sugary snack, something that will appeal to your sweet tooth. 

“What sounds better, sour gummy bears, or those nerd cluster things?”

“Sour gummy bears, please,”

Soon, the coffee table before you has a cup of hot honey lavender tea and a little bowl of sour gummies, and Taehyung is settling beside you, reaching for the remote to find something to put on TV. You feel cozy snuggled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you and your overly affectionate demon beside you, and it’s then that you realize just how comforted you really feel.

Effortlessly, without you realizing, Taehyung knew what to do to soothe you, knew the actions that would bring you peace after something stressful had happened. He didn’t need to be asked, or told – just sprang into action to support you, asking for nothing in return. There was only one other person who had done that for you, even before becoming Fallen, and that was Jin. 

The thought has your heart thrumming in your chest.

Pressing play on some vampire show, he then leans back on the couch, pulling you with him until you’re resting cuddled into his chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, eyes questioning. “If it’s too much, I can go get some pillows instead.”

It’s his thoughtfulness that finally breaks you, has tears welling in your eyes as you stare into his depthless gaze.  You can’t hold it back anymore, the question you were going to ask, and you blurt it out before you can doubt yourself. 

“Taehyung, will you live with me?”

 His eyes widen in surprise, and you feel your stomach drop, scrambling to explain. “I don’t know what your plans are, or how long you wanted to stay here… But I’ve come to realize that I really, really like having you around, and I don’t want you to go. So I wanted to ask, would you stay here with me?”

The surprise in his gaze fades, leaving behind wonderment, adoration. 

“You want me to stay?”

Not trusting your voice, this time, you just nod, giving him a watery smile.

Taehyung scoops you up, practically pulling you into his lap and  immediately wrapping you into a big hug, squeezing you so hard your lungs fight for air. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to stay with you.” 

A deep chuckle reverberates in his chest, and you can’t help but join in, his laughter and joy infectious as he crushes you. “No one has ever asked me to stay before.” 

You go to pull away, to move back to your spot on the couch and to continue this conversation, but Taehyung’s arms lock you in place, holding you to him. 

Brow furrowing,  you go to question him, but then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is electric, sizzling down your spine and through your veins until you’re dizzy, until you’re consumed in nothing but the feeling of him and his mouth moving against yours. You’re drunk with it, on the precipice, and when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, you let him tumble into your mouth, salvation be damned. 

“Well, what do we have going on here?”

Jin's voice startles you both, interrupting the kiss. Breathing heavy, you go to slide off Taehyung’s lap, but he is having none of it; instead tucking you in closer and giving the angel a proud grin. Rolling your eyes, you stay put, working to get your heart back to a normal rate. 

“I would say I’m surprised about the whole kissing thing, but I’m not,” he continues, moving fully into the living room to face you both. “However, could you tell me why in the hell you were both glowing?”

[chimkinnuget]

UPDATE . WE GOT A NAME FOR THE FIC NOW YAYYYYYYY !!!! also have the basic idea written down! Anything about the fic/au will be now under this :3

Also, if you wish to be notified when this eventually releases, follow me here! Or on AO3! :)

I will also be answering any questions, so feel free to hop in my inbox! ^^

uhhh yaa I hope this finds whoever was interested in the og post !! :))