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suzukiblu · 5 months

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Day twenty-seven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

They walk to their first planned destination, Kon being unfairly adorable and also an asshole at the same time, because it’s Kon so of course he can multitask that kind of shit. Tim gets teased about his taste in kids’ toys and his date budget and his theoretical Smash skills, which he’s clearly going to need to educate the bastard on the hard way. Alternately, Tim also gets Hawaiian gummy candy shared with him, never mind that Kon apparently both really likes it and hasn’t had it in months.

Tim continues to be in way too deep and finds it sweet of him, possibly because of the excited and pleased way Kon grins at him when he tells him likes the candy.

Tim is definitely in way too deep.

They get where they’re going, and Kon . . . pauses, and then tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Trust me,” Tim says with admittedly unwarranted confidence as he squeezes his hand, then leads him into the modern art museum looming in front of them. Kon isn’t the type to really be that into museums, he knows, but they did “meet” in one and also this specific exhibit seemed, well . . .

Promising, he guesses.

“Sure, pretty boy,” Kon says with a laugh, squeezing his hand in return. Tim is idly mystified as to why Kon keeps calling him that, but in no way intends to dissuade him from it. If Kon wants to call him completely illogical things, that’s up to him.

He takes Kon to the ticket counter and buys them both a ticket. The clerk asks for their ID and Kon hesitates, because he’s obviously never had or needed an actual ID in his life, but Tim’s already pulling out the fake ones he made for “Alvin Draper” and “Connell Hill”. They won’t stand up to Bat-level scrutiny, obviously–he didn’t have the time or see the point in going that far–but they’ll get them into an adults-only museum night. He’ll do up something more reliable to buy the cul-de-sac with. He has a few identities that could buy property established, but Bruce knows all of those identities, so he’d rather avoid using any of them. Easier to just build a new cover ID from scratch than hide an active one setting up a new residence that isn’t an obvious safehouse, he figures.

He pays the clerk, pockets his receipt, and they head down the hall together. The museum is one of the nicer ones in Gotham, and decorated a little bit more nicely than usual for the event, but not outright extravagantly. It’s due to be open a little later than usual too, though Tim doesn’t know how late Kon will want to stay. He can probably push back their dinner reservations if it comes to it, though he’s not expecting that to be necessary.

“It’s an 18+ thing?” Kon asks as soon as they’re out of the clerk’s earshot, raising an eyebrow curiously. “The frick kind of museum is this?”

“Not that kind,” Tim says, trying not to blush. “They just do adults-only events sometimes. It’s just so there won’t always be a bunch of bratty kids and annoying teenagers running around distracting the older museum-goers. And there's hors d'oeuvres and drinks.”

“Babe, I don’t know about you, but you are aware I am technically both a bratty kid and an annoying teenager, right?” Kon asks him with a smirk.

“That would be why I got you a fake ID too,” Tim says reasonably.

“So we just snuck into a museum with fake IDs,” Kon says with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve done weirder, probably, but what the fuck, Tim? Where’d you even get that?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim says only a little bit sheepishly, carefully avoiding the latter question. Also every other version of this kind of exhibit he found was way more kid-oriented and definitely not going to count as the kind of “nice” date to have convinced Kon to dress up for or actually look like Tim had put effort into any of the night.

“What, did the goat idol end up here?” Kon asks in amusement. “We checking up on the little guy?”

“No, he’s still living his best life in Metropolis under increased security, last I heard,” Tim says, though that’d be kind of funny, so depending on how long they’re seeing each other maybe he should keep that idea in mind.

“You actually checked?” Kon asks with a laugh.

. . . right, that’s not something a normal teenager would do, is it. Well–too late now, so Tim’s just gonna have to lean into it.

“I was just wondering what they were going to do with it, after a whole gallery wall got blown in and everything,” he says. “Apparently the answer was ‘close for a weekend and then back to business’. Don’t ask me where they found contractors that fast.”

“It’s Metropolis,” Kon says. “If you can’t find a contractor to fix superhero damage, you’re not trying.”

“It wasn’t actually superhero damage,” Tim points out. “You didn’t break anything.”

“A real fucking important vase, apparently,” Kon snorts, but he’s smiling a little as he shrugs. “Alright, fine, but ‘mediocre museum robber damage’ probably doesn’t sound as good on the insurance, now does it? And I look much prettier in the paper than a bunch of mug shots of idiots who didn’t even know how to work their cute lil’ magic goat buddy.”

“Definitely, yeah,” Tim agrees wryly, steering him down a side hall towards the sounds of other people. Frankly he’s counting them lucky the goat didn’t try to start a magical apocalypse or something, given how their lives usually go. And also it was Metropolis, which sucks enough as it is. So like, of course the apocalypse would come from Metropolis, given the option and opportunity to.

“I don't know much about art or whatever, you know,” Kon says a little bit awkwardly, peering down the hall towards the dimly-lit gallery ahead. “Like–that was not prioritized in the ‘how to be Superman’ educational package. Especially because it was written by committee by a bunch of people who I'm still pretty sure had never even met the guy. Like ever.”

“You don't have to know anything about art to like it,” Tim says reasonably, resisting a vague urge to frown over the way Kon phrased that. Note to self, maybe. Just–for later, obviously. “But this isn't really that kind of exhibit.”

“Isn't this an art museum?” Kon says with a puzzled frown. “What else is there?”

“It's a ‘multimedia experience primed to dazzle and delight all of the observer's senses’,” Tim recites wryly off the website copy he was reading earlier this week. “Also known as a sensory exhibit.”

“A–what?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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byghostface · 18 days

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BATMAN AND ROBIN(2023) #8 SPOILERS

Their faces😭 He is so mad and she is so sad and clinging to him to apologize for her action😭😭

Honestly, Nika is partially telling her truth to Damian here, she only asked for Damian to help her find her sister, and he did, so she thanked him, promising to talk later. She just trying to buy time for her plans to work while stopping Damian from getting more involved and making Mila trust her.

Look at how cheerful and cute Nika is with her sister… Mila is so pretty… they are so cutee☹️☹️🥲

This is probably the first time they’re having fun and understanding each other, and Nika already knows she has made the decision to sacrifice this possible renewed kinship by betraying Mila's trust while keeping her safe. ( look at her sad face ungghggh my baby ueueee😭😭😭 she knows she will have two people she loves mad at her simultaneously in one single night…)

Just thinking that Nika still cares about her sister a lot, and probably knows this criminal life will not do well for Mila in the longest run, so she track her down and decided to make a plan to get her out… And all this time Mila is blinded by jealousy of not having power as her, then when she gets the power she doesn't even once try to find Nika😭😞😞

I'm just hoping Nika will keep in touch with their mother and tell her what happened to Mila…

Nika immediately blasts Mila with the ice guns once Mila wants to severely harm and poses a danger to Damian. Mila must have called Nika weirdo so many times as an insult when they were little kids, cuz Nika is still mad about this (I don't blame her, you go girl!! Tell her to back off, seems like your sister still doesn't know that words still hurt).

Nika came to him and Batman to ask for help to find her sister and make sure it would be fine for her to handle Mila's situation (minimal the chance for Mila to be sent to Gotham prison, and stick to her plan). She explains her plan and actions to Damian and tells him that it's not all an act with him.

She wants to return the favor by helping his cases and making sure that's fine with him too (She's so open to talk and gentle to Damian here… and meanwhile he looked so sad thinking she's leaving again so soon😭).

Man-bat in Nikola's style is sooo good!!! I love how he looks here, so brutal and threatening! This page is one of my favorite.

Love these panels too, Batman being dragged into the darkness by Man-bat… Shush why are you looking so shook here, even though Batman save you from Man-bat's strike a few seconds before… I thought you wanted him dead?

Erica's face lowkey reminds me of that one Shrek image… she's so funny with that stare she gave to Damian😂

NIKA IN HER CIVIL CLOTHES‼️‼️RAAAAA I LOVE IT SMMM😭😭♥️♥️♥️SHE LOOKS SO FRICKING ADORABLE‼️😭😇😇🙏💕💕

The tie, the red skirt and the knee-high boots… She's my everythinggg🥹🥺🫶♥️🖤💕💕

Can't wait for the next issue! If Ms. Hall is actually Shush, it would be so interesting for her to see Damian sneaking Nika into school to help him try to uncover the principal as Shush.

I had a feeling that in the next issue, Nika would punch Damian's bullies for calling him names (look how she did with her sister, she definitely would not tolerate that I fear), or something they planned together this time would happen to get both of them to the detection.

(I'm kinda sad that Mila's appearance is so short, hopefully she can return in later issues… reasons number 97676443178 why I need a Flatline solo!! To explore more with her family!!!🙏🙏)

Batman and Robin(2023) #8 spoilers- preview thoughts．issue thoughts

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protective-mama-bear · 2 months

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: ̗̀➛THE BRUTAL TRIO

[Don't worry, i'm not dead :'D just having an art and writer block– anyway, behold! The Brutal Trio (ft. Violent!KickinChicken, Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch, and Corrupted!PickyPiggy) a trio that is unstoppable and feared by many, the trio that is merciless and brutal in their 'play'. Headcanon below cut :D]

The Brutal Trio Headcanons (ft. Violent!KickinChicken, Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch, and Corrupted!PickyPiggy)

Hear me out, i could see Psychopaths Kickin, Hoppy and Picky would be the trio that is fucking unstoppable and chaotic. Like, those three would enter an AU and would caused destruction there! Like burning buildings, explosions especially killing peoples and boy, the way they kill the peoples would be brutal and merciless.

Like, listen, Hoppy have a fucking giant ass hammer that could smash people brains out and the poison? It's fucking painful, tickles at first then slowly turning into 'wanting everything to be over'. And don't remind me of how Hoppy could electrocuted you into a burn crispy chips.

While Picky or CP? She's literally collect many kind of blades or knifes, anything that sharp! But her favorite is a butcher knife, even when going into mission to cause destruction in other Au, she would bring her goddamn butcher knife and She's fricking good at using her knife, in brutal or painless way. She is the butcher and the cook in the mansion, it's no surprised she's good with her knife.

And Kickin? Oh ho ho! I don't think you want to find out about how painful those bat feels like when it hit your skin especially those goddamn nails! And not only that, he was call Violent for a good damn reason and that is his violent way in using his bat or killing people, Kickin will not hesitate to fucking swung his bat at his victim and beats them multiple time until you are finally dead (the victim face and body probably be broken or worse‐)

Now, if those three was send into a mission together, these three would be an unstoppable and brutal trio. Like, whoever got caught by these three attention then boy... pray for the victim to still survive but again, probably not.

Those three will work together in creating chaos and destruction, they literally BFF's if you think about it. They train and spar together in the training room of the mansion and when going to a mission? Those three will be a team.

Now, i could see Kickin to be the frontline of the trio or the leader, while he's an idiot but his way of killing is admirable and he can be protective to his two friends (sometime) while Hoppy and CP? Those two are a dangerous support team, they would help Kickin but those three would sometime challenge eachother, just for the thrill of excitement.

Hoppy would be the ears for the trio since she have a sharp hearing and whoever caught the green rabbit attention, you would bet that person would found the trio, standing infront of them with a malicious and wicked grins, looking ready to kill the person in so many kind of way.

Also, yes, there's probably missions for each Smiling Psychopaths by Bubba (also yes, he's the boss–), the missions could be important, or just causing chaos in some AU's (whoever AU's that got visit by these psychopaths, send prayer for them–)

The Trio also have call Bobby 'mama', those three are literally Bobby's adopted child/siblings. If there's a mission that included the trio, Bubba or Bobby would probably come along just so the trio won't play too rough in the AU that they assigned to.

All in all, these three are like a walking destruction and whoever became these three victim... well, let's just hope that they would survived or atleast died quickly before feeling the pain.

[Phew, that was alot... anyway, enjoy these silly headcanons of mine for the Smiling Psychopaths uvu]

Smiling Psychopaths by @smiling-psychopaths

Violent!KickinChicken by @smiling-psychopaths

Corrupted!PickyPiggy by @picky-and-corrupted-picky

Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch by @jumptothemoon

#smiling psychopaths #smiling critters #smiling psychopaths headcanon #kickinchicken #hoppy hopscotch #picky piggy

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chocoloveaatcocoalovea · 4 months

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Sweetened Interruption

mammon x reader, crack, fluff, tickle fights, kissing

Mammon and you relax in the HOL but then a tickle fight break out between the two of you.

Today was an uneventful day.

Contrary to popular belief, the House of Lamentations did have some off days, if you could call them that. They were just... rare. Extremely rare.

Well, you did have to try to wrestle Beel away from the fridge. And stop Solomon from 'helping' the angels cook. And calm Luke down because somebody called him the dog name that started with a C. And... scratch that, today was quite possibly at most, ordinary at a minimum level.

And yet, you treasured these moments a great deal; after all most of the time you were either giving therapy to god's problem children or caught up in both godly and devildom magical, supernatural drama.

So, to be just lying on the bed, having a slow day with Mammon? That was basically a dream come true.

Mammon was reading a comic book on his bed, pillow propped behind his back and humming a little tune as he leisurely scrolled through the pages.

You sat up on the bed with a yawn. You were bored. Sleepy. You needed something to do. Trying to count pink sheep to fall asleep didn't work so not knowing what to do, you dragged yourself towards Mammon.

You moved his hands so you can rest your head on his lap, then tried to cover your eyes and face with the jacket he was wearing; the lights were a little too bright in this part of the room.

However, it was short and you failed miserably and in the process, saw Mammon's concentrated look as he was reading the comic book.

A hint of pink was dusted on his cheeks - goodness, this man knew you liked him and he liked you but still blushed like a teenager with a crush. How fricking damn loveable.

You smiled at his reaction and flapped the two sides of the open jacket, meddling and playing with them like they were a toy.

" . . . "

You let out a content sigh at the cozy silence.

"What are you doing?" Mammon asked in a teasing lilt.

Though your face was covered by the jacket, you could hear the grin in his voice.

You heard him put his book on the bed, to his side.

You said nothing, just continued flapping the jacket with a happy smile, like you were a bat and they were your wings.

"Yer weird, ya know?" Mammon said, gently tracing the smile lines on your cheek with one hand.

This is nice, you thought to yourself.

"It's like a tent. For your face. Head," you said, tugging the lapels of the jacket close to show him your 'weird' logic.

Mammon shook his head with a chuckle, picking the comic book from the page he left off and continuing to read.

You jabbed a finger onto his side.

Poke.

Poke. Poke.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Poke. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Ehe."

Mammon's smile fell once he realized you both heard the sound that escaped from him.

Oh boy. Uh oh.

With a menacing smile growing on your face, you positively tackled him to the bed.

Before Mammon could choke out a protest, you grinned at him, delighted giggles bubbling up from your lips as you tickled his sides. The maroon sheets under you both rustled with the demon's frantic movements to escape from you.

"AHAHAHAHAH- TREASURE, NO- STOP TICKLE-"

You did not stop.

"No, no, no, wait- "

Laughter.

"Stop!"

More laughter.

Mammon, still writhering on the bed like a worm trying to swim, tried to tackle you and probably, tickle you too.

"Eek."

He didn't succeed but fell from his bed onto the wooden floor with a thud.

"Aaah!"

"Oh my- "

Initial shock turned to worry as you rushed to his side.

"ARE YOU OK?"

"Got you!" Mammon said, impish smile growing, wrapping you in his arms and tickling your sides.

"Oh, please, no- "

You were now giggling uncontrollably.

"Hey! Hey, no, wait- "

"Nope."

You tried to escape but your efforts were in vain. You were guffawing, flailing your arms desperately like some odd creature, struggling miserably, until...

Until... you had an idea.

You kissed Mammon.

The hands that were tickling your sides rested on your waist as Mammon leaned into the kiss.

At first you were giggling. Then you relaxed, both of you melting into the embrace.

"Hmmm." Mammon sighed out once you parted, "That's not going to work."

"It already did," you said cheekily.

And just like that, you turned to leave.

Mammon gaped at you. His face turned pink, perhaps from the boldness you just displayed.

"You can't just do that and leave!"

You, like the mature adult you are, stuck your tongue out.

"Watch me."

"You know what?" Brows furrowed and deep in thought, Mammon stared at the floor, as if debating himself.

When he saw you walking away, he snapped out of it and caught up to you.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. You do not," Mammon huffed, standing beside you with folded arms.

"What?" you asked innocently.

"Where are you going? "

Your response was a shrug and nonchalant hum.

"You can't just leave!"

"Why not?"

"Cause- "

Creases in your eyes from the smug smile, you took this as an opportunity to plant a kiss on his lips again, leaving him breathless when you were done.

Mammon blinked owlishly. He was still trying to realize what just happened, mouth still slightly agape slightly from disbelief.

You just smiled, waved your hand with a 'Bye!' like he usually did and turned to leave.

Mammon let out something between a groan and a whine. With a gentle yank of your hand, you were back in his arms again, him pressing your lips together a little forcefully in mild frustration, then breaking the kiss but instantly pressing your lips back together, the gestures so soft, so gentle but leaving you breathless nonetheless.

Mammon stroked your cheek before you parted from another kiss and as he cupped your face he spoke softly, blue eyes starstruck and golden, "You can't leave now."

"I thought you wanted to finish the comics?" You asked, giving him an amused look and tilting your head in the direction the book laid.

After a mischievous shake of his head and a chuckle, Mammon leaned in close to you and whispered softly, "This is better."

And with that reply, he connected your lips once more, silencing your smug laughter with his sweet kiss.

heart divider - @/kimjiho1

heart gif - @/pastelwalks

support divider - @/benkeibear

#mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x reader fluff #obey me mammon

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months

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Ok but Wukong claims MK as Yubei's honorary/sworn older brother. Macaque who was in the room suddenly feels a cold swear as he Realized Wukong Sees MK As His Kid. His Clcub, who Macaque had chased fown and hunted like an animal in an effort to keep LBD's attention off of Wukong himself.

Macaque has that revelation loooong before Yuebei is born.

You see...

When Macaque was still processing that Wukong (his former mate) had been pregnant with the Egg for many many years - he had a brief brain-fart during "Shadow Play" and at during his panic he asks;

Macaque: "Is it my kid!? Wait..." *glares at MK really hard* "Are you my kid???" MK: "Wut." Macaque: "No, no, wait, thats dumb, it's the same baby now as back then. Sorry bud, but I am totally freaking out right now." MK: "Because you spent the last couple hundred years being a deadbeat dad?" Macaque, grabs MK by the shoulders: "YES!!"

The rest of the MKrew escape the Shadow Lantern simply because Mac was panicking so hard he dropped it. Even being super mad at him, they stay until he stops hyperventillating. In Mac's defense, he's not sure how long normal Stone Monkey pregnancies should be.

Even once the realisation kicks in that the "Egg" is a Stone Egg formed from Wukong being encased in the mountain without resources - Macaque has a second "crap Im dad" realisation when he realises that him abandoning/cutting-off Wukong back then is what triggered the process. He still wants to take responsibility for the Egg as it's indirect creator.

And ofc during S3, Macaque notices how protective/paternal Wukong is with MK and starts to realise;

MK might not be Macaque's kid, but Wukong certainly considers MK to be *his* kid.

Macaque has tricked, fought, and psychologically tormented said kid in his goal to either hurt Wukong or extract information.

Macaque is now being forced to capture said kid and/or Wukong for LBD less he suffers a fate worse than death. And while Macaque would hate to do either, he can't stand the thought of handing Wukong over. So MK is his primary target throughout S3, even if Mac tries his best to "soften the blow" if it were when he tries capturing him.

MK is super excited to meet the Egg when it's finally born, and is acting in a manner typical of an older monkey cub wanting to care for their younger sibling. It's too fricking cute and-

Well crap, now Mac doesn't want to turn the kid over. Mostly cus doing so will def hurt Wukong and make his King somehow hate Mac even more than he does now.

Maybe if they do get the Samadhi Fire, him and Wukong might- Macaque, begings violently batting away his talkative shadow clones: "NOPE! Get the heck out of here with that!! I'm just getting the Fire to be free of LBD's influence!"

And once Yuebei is finally born...

Wukong, talking to the baby: "Bao bei [treasure], this is your big brother, MK. Well, honorary big brother, but you get what I mean." MK, holding Yuebei: *is so happy he can't form words + is happy-crying* Macaque: *trying his best not to ask MK "hey, wanna be our son?", cus Mk has his adoptive dads + Mac thinks the kid hates him anyway* "Hah. Crybaby." MK, still crying: "Shut up. You cried when you saw her for the first time." Macaque, trying his best not happy-cry again: "She looks like me! Of course I'd cry - such a curse to place upon a innocent soul!" Wukong: *sighs fondly at the back-and-forth*

Mac's gut reaction is to insult others/himself when he feels emotionally vulnerable, and MK knows how to flip it around.

It very much becomes a "Dad treating his eldest son vs younger daughter" situation, especially if Bai He is thrown into the mix. Mac will 100% spoil his little princesses, but MK...

MK can handle it. He's Wukong's heir. He's ok with Mac only really being soft on him when no one else is around. Secretly Mac's kinda jealous of the dad-attention Pigsy, Wukong, and even Tang get from the kidm even though in his heart he knows it's unlikely MK will ever see Mac as a father figure.

#slow boiled stone egg au #stone egg talk #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #qi xiaotian #shadowpeach #pregnancy tw #shadowpeach being parents

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drpoisonoaky · 7 months

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A good psychologist is hard to find especially when you’re a bat-something. So go to Ivy’s house and pay a visit to the best therapist in Gotham: Harley Quinn {Part 2}

---------[Jason Todd] Jason [Entering through the window]: I need the clown NOW, where the fuck is she? Ivy: Jesus christ we have a door and you don’t need to shout. She’s literally the only one here that’s not green it’s not hard to spot her. Ivy: But she’s in the bathroom so, wait five minutes. Jason: She said I should count before I hit someone but I swear every time I see the fucking bat ears- Ivy: Believe me, I’m not the best individual to ask for advice if you don’t want to murdering a rich guy, so maybe you should wait for her. Jason: -I stop knowing how to count- Ivy: Dude, five minutes. She’s the one who knows what to do with that info. Jason: -when I reach 5 I already murder him 10 times Ivy: Jason: and each time in a different way Ivy: Jason: So I end up yelling to everyon- Harley: Jeez Pam-a-lamb your veggies know how to make a gal shi- Harley: Oh hiya Jason! Ivy: FINALLY do something with him ---------[Cassandra Cain] Cass: Ivy: Harley is getting some groceries. Cass: No problem, I’ll wait. Ivy: Cass: Ivy: Cass: Ivy: Harley: Red I'm home. Cass: Ivy: Harley: Oh Cass hello there. Let me put this in the kitchen quickly and we can start. Cass: Sure. Ivy: Cass: Ivy: I like you kiddo. ---------[Stephanie brown] Steph: And she was lookin’ at me like that while we were on the rooftop but then she said “you’re my best friend” and I was like YOU CANNOT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT AND SAY BESTIES Harley: Maybe being your best friend is everything to her. Steph: I mean yeah but how do I tell her “I love being your best friend but I actually want to be your girlfriend” Harley: Maybe like that. Steph: Oh. Harley: Yep. Steph: You know after giving birth, being killed by my own father and becoming part of the batfamily I like to think that I can handle almost anything with 0 issues but I guess I'm human after all. Steph: So I'm gonna do that. Harley: Wait wait wait. Harley: Let me be unprofessional for a sec. [Harley takes of her fake glasses] Harley: FRICKING FRUCKING DUCKS YOU DID WHAT AND DIE WHEN Step: oh shit I know I forgot to tell ya somethin’ Harley: YOU THINK?! Harley: OH MY FUCKING GOD IVY MAKE HOT CHOCOLATE AND BRING BLANKETS

#poison ivy #harlivy #harley quinn #incorrect quotes #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #oracle #batgirls #batgirl #orphan #red hood #spoiler batman #batman #robin #batfamily #batfam

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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A Ratatouille type AU where Bruce takes his tentative first steps into detectivism.

Gotham's so massively drowned out in crime that he's barely making a scratch surface level.

But you know who does know Gotham? Knows every nook and cranny among the narrows? Knows no fear? Stole Batman's tires when no one had the guts to?

Jason fricking Todd.

" Wait, -- no no, that's not when Penguin makes his deliveries anymore. That's when the pigs buy from him and take everything for free. You're gonna wanna bust him tomorrow, genius,"

"Jason," Bruce weights his trust carefully. " If I let you go... Are we in this together?"

Jason snorts, imaginary spit in his hand, shakes Bruce for it. And then runs. Leaving Bruce in a golden street light. Leaves him staring with his shoulders down.

"Oh, brother."

It's a pretty good deal; Jason gives him tips, he gets a comfy, puffy head, fresh food, and surprisingly?

Lots of hugs. Sunshine kisses on his nose and cheek and forehead.

" And how," Alfred rubs his temples around Bruce so much Jason thinks it's a reflex at this point, " Will you explain to the public why Batman carries around a sidekick with a curfew?"

" An unjust curfew."

" Jason will work at the Batcomputer."

" On my batchair, sipping on some bat-hot chocholate, from my bat mug. I mean, -- it's Gotham. We're not going anywhere."

Except. Lex Luthor, as most middle aged men who grew up with too much freedom and too little consequences, never learned what a rejection is.

"...The justice league?"

" Yeah, hot shot! I mean, you've been giving us some issues in the popularity department, my friend," He doesn't like the smirk on Lex's smile; As if he owns the whole world and wants to own him, too,

" The people are crazy for Superman punching a nazi, -- I don't like violence in my politics, but agree to disagree, -- Flash running for charity, Wonder Woman visiting some dying kid at the hospital. Everyone likes them. But nobody trusts them. They trust you."

" And it'd look very good for you to have a human on your team. After... That happened."

That includes the suspicious assassination of his political rival. Bruce begins to suspect its not suspicious at all.

" Bingo! See? I know a showbiz kid when I see one. Superman can show you the ropes. Guy's a better liar than me. That's saying something."

Jason's voice is protective and hissing like an angry viper in his ear, " I don't like this, Bruce. Don't take the deal."

But Bruce wanted to meet Superman outside of his city. Wanted to weight the risks. Wanted to see how big the man behind the symbol really is, and If humanity's lifespan is ended at one bad day.

So he accepts. And Superman Is nothing like he expected.

Passionate, angry, and uncomfortably handsome. That's who's got Bruce pinned to a wall, staring with barely surpassed annoyance,

" When I think he can't go lower, he surprises me."

" We're in this together, superm-"

" Oh no no no no. Your position as a citizen was secured the second someone shoved that silver spoon in your mouth. I didn't suffer years under that sentient ballsack so a tax dodging bastard like you can just walk in here, --"

" But I'm no--"

" I know who you are, Wayne. You're a troubled brat who gets what he wants. But I'm not daddy, or mommy, or your seriously scary butler. So if you wanna survive out here, you play by OUR rules. Got. It?"

"...Tell him to shove the biggest piece of kryptonite up his a--"

" We get it."

Superman's brow quirks, "We?"

" Me and my...Mental illness."

"...You're a weirdo, Wayne. I hope you know that much, at least."

#grumpy clark makes a return!!!#but yeah in this au lex owns the justice league and funded it #which is a baad time for everyone involved #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #jason todd #batman #text post #clark kent #superbat #ratatouille au #text #writing

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hawkinsindiana · 10 months

Text

i’m not gonna leave you here

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER NINE OF NINE

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i have returned from the dead to drop this lil nugget of a final chapter. literally bat shit to think i have been writing this shit for FOUR YEARS! thank you to those of you who have continued to support my writing even through all the droughts. i definitely needed time to step back from tumblr so also a quick kiss to the few that sent me sweet asks checking up on me ily ily!!! writing this story has truly brought me such immense joy i feel ridiculously grateful to the ones that have decided to READ THE WHOLE FRICKING THING!!!! anyways..... thank you thank you thank you and i hope to see you for s5 >:)

masterlist

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice filters into Steve’s mind, reaching him through the anxious worries he’s been so focused on beneath the reporter’s drawl on the television. The back of your index finger glides gently across the line of his jaw, helping to coax him away from what made him cast his gaze down towards his socks. His skin is smooth under your own, freshly shaved and moisturized to perfection.

Steve’s eyes shift to you, who’s comfortably tucked under the weight of his arm. Your irises are as warm and inviting as ever, quietly beckoning him to divulge. He grins lightly as the answer reaches the tip of his tongue.

“You.”

The only reason he’s so blunt is because he wants to see your reaction — a brilliant smile that fades into awe and pure love. He feels your body melt further against him as you try to play it off with a rather endearing roll of your eyes. Steve’s sure that some joke about him being a sap rattles around inside your pretty head, but it never comes to fruition. It must be the look on his face that keeps words from escaping you because once again, your gentle eyes silently plead with him.

He bites down on his lip before anxiously darting his gaze across the room; this is the last topic of conversation he wants to bring up, but it keeps shouting at him from the depths of his mind. Before Steve gets the chance to speak, you reach over to take his free hand between yours, lightly massaging his tired knuckles. The crease in his brow softens.

“When are you going back to the city? I know you weren’t supposed to leave for another week but…”

Steve pauses like he’s carefully choosing his words. His hand, which you’ve dragged to your lap, shifts to intertwine a few of your fingers together. He swallows harshly, “I don’t know, maybe that’s… changed. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go sooner.”

It was this morning that Steve remembered what the initial plans for Spring Break were. Just over a week ago, you two had been excitedly swapping ideas about what to do with all of your free time. But now, he can barely remember what any of them were. The only thing that crosses his mind is the intense and gut-wrenching desire to keep you close, but simultaneously out of harm’s way.

You blink in surprise as a deep inhale is pulled into your lungs. In the wake of all the destruction your actions have caused, it’s hard to imagine leaving Hawkins without attempting to rectify what you’ve done. In comparison, your education seems like the least important thing in the world right now. But then again, who knows how long it could take to hunt down Vecna once more?

He’s still out there… you can sense it, burrowed deep in your soul. It’s the same feeling that told you the Russian code was more than a transmission — a feeling that’s grown into more than intuition or anxiety, but rather the upsetting truth that you know intimately how the Upside Down works. There’s more to come and soon; when it does, you want it to be the last time.

You’re tired. You want to rest. You feel like every ounce of courage you once had has left your body. You’re terrified to plan anything that could backfire again. But you want your family safe. You want Steve to be safe. These horrors have plagued you long enough. They’ve stolen so much of your life from you.

You’re angry.

It scares you, but you know that there won’t be a sense of closure until you watch the life leave Henry’s eyes — whether by your hand or someone else’s, you don’t particularly care.

Are you willing to see this through to the very end? To do what it takes to get the life you crave?

“I don’t… I don’t think I can go, Steve,” You mutter, “At least not until this is over.”

Confirmation washes over Steve’s face — the slight lift of his brow and the sigh he expels says it all. As he cards his free hand through his hair, he speaks.

“Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

Suddenly, you realize his reaction was not one of reassurance and relief, but rather disappointment.

Steve’s arm slides to the back of the couch as you sit up straighter. Your voice is a bit more stern, straddling the line between genuine confusion and vexation, “What, you’d rather have me leave?”

“No, no,” Steve replies immediately as his anger suddenly begins to churn. It’s not directed at you, no, but at the mere thought of having to watch you drive away from him. Selfishly, he wants you by his side at all times. He wants to turn to you for support whenever he needs or offer you his shoulder to cry on at a moment's notice. Whether it’s healthy or not, Steve cannot imagine himself without you. He needs you now.

But hurt is starting to cloud over your irises; the slightly cold and calculating look Steve knows will impale him through the heart if he doesn’t act fast to clear this up. Maybe a different approach would be best considering you both are so high strung at the moment. He shouldn’t have assumed that you’d want to leave right now — that much is clear.

Steve has begged you to leave Hawkins more than once; now it feels more like a matter of life and death.

He sighs and re-adjusts, moving from a laid-back posture to one of thought and concern. He wants to lean in closer even though you’ve shifted away, but decides to reach for one of your hands instead — you don’t recoil from his touch. Your gaze stays locked on his face, analyzing every micro expression so you can attempt to understand.

“God, of course I don’t want you to go, baby. I never want to be away from you ever again,” Steve begins softly, gently holding your hand between both of his, “I just…”

He stops again, recognizing that your face has slightly relaxed due to his tone and touch. Something in him withers knowing that his instinctual reaction and initial question prepared you for a fight he never wanted.

And then that image and sensation flash through his mind again.

Your cold skin. The whites of your eyes. The weight of your limp body in his arms. Overwhelming grief — the kind he’s only read about in your books. Emptiness. Fear. Longing. Pure, unfiltered anger.

All of that was real. Steve didn’t know he could feel something so strongly. He never wants to experience anything as intense as those feelings for the rest of his life, unless it’s his love for you. That’s an exception he’s willing to overlook.

“I can’t do… that again.”

You see it too; the pain in his eyes that’s lingered since returning home. You’ve noticed it every time he looks at you, as if it’s the last time he’ll see your gentle smile. He’s touched your bare skin with such intention it’s addicting and branded kisses onto everywhere he can reach. The most beautiful words have fallen from his lips — how excited he is for all of this to be behind you, how lucky he feels to be a part of your future.

You did this to him. Even if it couldn’t be helped, you still damaged him. For the first time, Steve Harrington has felt truly desired. You want him for more than just his body or his parents’ money. With you, he finally has a life in front of him; one that promises fulfillment and unabashed happiness.

You understand his fear perfectly. You sigh too, your hard exterior cracking instantaneously.

Defeated, you nearly pout as you murmur, “And I’m not gonna leave you here, Stevie. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You don’t have to say anymore for him to accept this fate. If you’re willing to give up your education over this, something you and Steve have been discussing for years, then he knows you’re set in your choice. He understood how much it meant to you to leave Hawkins then, but now you’ve made the decision to stay and fight.

How could he have asked you to leave in the first place? It would hurt you just as much. With the phones still down, there’s no telling when he would get word to you about his or your brother’s safety. If there’s one thing Steve doesn’t want, it’s for you to be living with uncertainty as cruel as that.

“I know, I’m sorry,” He frowns as you shuffle closer again and relish in the warmth of his palm against your cheek, his fingers deftly tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. How fortunate is he to have someone who’s unwilling to leave his side?

He continues as you turn your head to kiss his wrist, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You tut softly with forgiveness, despising the feeling of a disagreement no matter how small it is, “No, I understand why you did. I mean, all of this has been so…”

No other words come to mind, so you chuckle in disbelief instead; you’re relieved Steve’s frown quirks up at the sound, his hand dropping to clasp both of yours now. He loves the varying texture of your skin; he could get lost for hours exploring it, even though it’s already committed to memory.

“It makes sense why you’d want me to go, even if you don’t want me to.”

You’re glad Steve’s arms open up for you when you worm in closer still, now awkwardly pinned to his side; when you press your cheek to his shoulder, you can practically feel his love for you radiating like his warmth. The soft fabric of his sweater against your skin is an added comfort you can’t quite describe. How lucky are you to have someone as dedicated to your safety as Steve?

A smirk crawls across your lips as all four wandering hands finally settle somewhere in this embrace, “What a shame I feel much safer when I’m with you, hmm?”

It’s half-hearted sarcasm, of course; a playful jest that has Steve’s chest rumbling a bit in soft laughter, “Yeah, what a shame.”

He’s more uneasy than he was before.

—

If it weren’t for the plumes of smoke billowing up into the clouds, this would be the most gorgeous day of the year. Selfishly, a part of you wonders if there’s still a chance you and Steve could sneak off to the lake and drown in sunlight. On second thought, given your previous visit, maybe you aren’t willing to go swimming anytime soon.

It’s hard to confront the consequences of your failure. For many, this cataclysmic event was the final straw — dozens, if not hundreds, of families have continued to flee. As Steve drives through the suburbs, you watch a father frantically loading the trunk while the mother lifts their toddler into the car seat. On your street, there was a home left abandoned with the front door wide open.

Continuing into town, the destruction grows more severe. The flames from a gas station have finally been contained. The diner you and Steve used to frequent has been reduced to crumbles, the neon sign shattered against the pavement. Your eyes linger on it a bit too long, heart aching that you’ll never get to return; Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

As gut-wrenching and upsetting it is to see the carnage, nothing prepares you for what washes over you upon entering that hospital room.

A different type of guilt pools in your stomach — nausea that you’ve grown used to over the past few months. It’s unmistakable as the sight of sterile white plaster and bruised skin floods your vision.

“The doctors said it’s… pretty much a miracle that she survived,” Lucas says, continuing his explanation of that fateful night as he returns to Max’s side. His hands remove a book from his chair before sitting down — he must have been reading to her. More pain echoes in your chest.

You wish you could’ve visited sooner. When you received his call on the radio this morning, another wave of emotion made itself known. After everything, you didn’t make sure Lucas and Erica were safe. You didn’t bother to check on the others. All that mattered to you was if Steve was okay, if Dustin was. They’re not the only family you have in this fight anymore.

As Lucas goes into more detail about the events at Creel House, your brain grows cloudy from thought. The older they’ve gotten, the similarities between Lucas and Steve have made themselves more apparent; they’re fiercely loyal, unapologetically kind, gentle, and compassionate. But a striking similarity is their willingness to get bloodied and blue to protect the one they love.

Lucas has come to you many times over the course of the last couple years seeking advice over Max. Not only does he trust you and your opinion, but you and her also share many similarities. You both can be incredibly stand-off-ish and suspicious of others, but those that prove their worth are given a plethora of love and care in return. If Lucas asked you for help with his love life, he knew you’d never steer him wrong because you understand the one he’s tried to woo — whatever you worked worked every time. Well, except for the last time.

Steve knows it’s the reason why Max’s involvement in all of this chaos has been weighing so heavily on your conscience. In your mind, if you had done more to help her, Vecna never would’ve seen her as a viable target. He hates to think of the alternative, that the fourth victim might have been you instead, with guilt loud enough to beckon that monster closer. But one way or another, Steve nearly lost you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to come to terms with that fact.

You can’t help but reflect on how close you were to a similar outcome. If Steve hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, maybe you’d be in another room in this hospital, your love wrought with worry and fused to your side until you woke. Maybe your body would be enclosed in a wooden box and buried beneath a willow tree, an abundance of flowers curling around your headstone — peonies, probably.

Your love is mirrored in theirs. But made clear is the fact that you and Steve have gotten lucky. You never thought you’d look at your life and consider any part of it to be more fortunate than someone else’s — a flaw you understand to be incredibly selfish and blind. You still have your twin flame, burning brightly in this room with you and a kind of warmth felt even with a lack of touch.

The other pair has dimmed, one of them too weak to fight anymore.

You want to help again. You need to help again.

“Can you…” You whisper, wrapping your fingers around Steve’s arm as you pull yourself closer to him. You glance back to the Sinclair boy, noticing the desperate way he clutches the redhead’s hand.

“Can you gimme a minute alone with him? Please?”

Concern immediately blossoms in Steve’s chest with your request. Knowing that your last attempt to support Lucas was ultimately in vain and a heavy burden on you, he’s not super keen at the idea. But Steve also knows you. You’ll find some way to help the boy either way, and he’d rather it be here in this room than during a moment of danger and desperation. Whatever it was you said to Max seemed to have helped her — maybe this will be different. Steve nods, remaining silent as he answers.

Clearing his throat, Steve turns to Erica and Dustin and gestures to the hall, pulling a couple of loose dollar bills from his pocket. He mutters something about the nearby vending machines and ushers the two of them out of the room, closing the door while flashing you a brief look. You’re not quite sure what he’s feeling, but you can’t imagine you’re particularly easy to read right now either. Between the pair of you, there’s enough compartmentalization happening to last a lifetime. But keeping a straight face in front of the others isn’t quieting the raging thoughts as well as you thought. Instead, you can feel them building — your fault your fault your fault.

As you sit in the chair beside Lucas, you can’t figure out where to begin. He doesn’t seem to blame this on you; if anything, he’s being too hard on himself. There wasn’t much more he could’ve done to try and keep Max safe, but you’re confident that’s not what he needs to hear right now.

“I, um… I almost didn’t make it back the other day.”

It takes a moment for Lucas to register your words. His eyes drift to you upon the realization, but you quiet his concerns before they ever make it out of his mouth, lips parting to speak.

“I’m fine,” You mutter. A lie, of course. The skin of your throat is still tender to the touch and there’s a roughness in your voice that hasn’t faded. If you think too hard, it feels like the tendrils have returned, crushing your esophagus more and more with each second. The fear kicks in again, until the face of your rescuer greets you out of the darkness.

“But Steve, he…” You pause, forcing yourself to avert your gaze from the boy because you see too much of your love in him. A younger version perhaps, a soft reflection in Lucas’ bruised eyes, but enough that your heart grows heavy once more. You shake your head gently, a wobbly breath falling from your lips.

“I’m only here because of him. I wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for Steve. I don’t know what-”

You immediately stop yourself, refusing to consider the alternate outcome any further. You shove it away deep into the recesses of your mind. When you finally look to Lucas again, you don’t have to say anything else for him to understand what it is you’re trying to tell him.

For a while now, Lucas has wanted what you and Steve have. Everything about the two of you… seems perfect. Even though he knows you haven’t always had good times, that doesn’t matter to him. He had hoped maybe Max would want that too.

But now?

Lucas nods silently, fully embracing the support you offer. There’s still hope. The road may be difficult, but he can’t let this be the end for them.

“She said she wasn’t ready.”

“Hm?”

“Max,” He clarifies sadly, his demeanor rapidly shifting to one of sorrow, “She said she wasn’t ready to die.”

Immeasurable grief swarms you. The air is drawn from your lungs as the hefty weight of his words burrows deeply into your soul. It’s the final nail in the coffin that solidifies your shame and remorse. You feel numb.

—

There’s a steady stream of people that filter into the school from the parking lot; it seems that you’re not the only group in Hawkins that felt inclined to help those affected by this disaster. Numerous boxes packed with all manner of clothing, toiletries, and other necessities line the walls and coat the tables. Resources are passed around to those who need them while the rest is organized to be distributed around town to multiple relief sites. Those that were displaced and can’t afford to leave rest on the various cots sprinkled throughout the gymnasium. It’s a bit overwhelming to say the least.

After Steve’s recruited to fold donated clothes, one of the volunteers leads you away.

“How do you feel about being around kids?”

“I think I could handle that, yeah,” You say, forcing a somewhat warm smile to pull at your lips. She gestures towards a young girl, no older than six, fiercely clutching a well-loved stuffed elephant between her soot stained fingers.

“Her house was destroyed, just torn right down the middle. We’re trying to find her parents,” The woman whispers, her hand touching your shoulder gently in gratitude, “But still nothing.”

You sigh, feeling your throat tighten, now able to put a face to all the destruction you and your friends weren’t able to stop. You approach the girl by asking if you can sit with her, to which she eventually nods at you with tired and exhausted eyes. When you introduce yourself and ask her for her name, she shifts a bit, “Erica.”

“Erica, huh?” You smile again, “I have a friend with that name. She’s pretty tough and strong.”

With your comment, the girl turns her head toward you; her skin’s coated with dirt and dust, hair a touch matted up. There’s a bit of blood on her forehead too.

“Is she like She-Ra?”

You can’t help but laugh a little at her reference. You pretend to think about it for a moment, even bringing your finger up to your chin to sell it further, “I think she’s more like Firefly. You know, from My Little Pony?”

Your answer brings a slight grin to her face; it simultaneously warms and breaks your heart. You put your hands down onto your knees, trying to remain as casual and maternal as possible, “What do you say we get you cleaned up? Would you like that?”

Erica nods before she grabs your now extended hand and uncurls herself from the plastic chair. As you start to walk forward, one hand wrapped up in yours and the other still tightly around her stuffed animal, she freezes unexpectedly. Her eyes are darting between the seas of people milling around, anxiously unable to focus on anything. You crouch down, meeting her eye line once again.

“I get nervous around a lot of people sometimes, too. I can hold you… if you want.”

Erica nods quickly, reaching her arms up for you to lift her. It takes a bit of effort ao you don’t anger your back, but you manage to settle her onto your left hip.

The added closeness seems to comfort her as you continue forward, taking a moment to grab a spare plastic bag. She’s a bit harder to carry than you expected, but now’s not the time for you to complain. You wander through the tables, picking out anything that you might need to get her freshened up. The longer you walk, the more she begins to speak, telling you to grab certain items that she likes — a butterfly hair clip, some berry scented chapstick. You even make time to stop by the snacks to grab her something to eat; Vickie makes her a strawberry jam sandwich when Erica tells you she’s allergic to peanuts. She gobbles it up quickly, smearing some of the jelly onto her cheek, which you wipe it off with the back of your sleeve. Your smile grows more genuine the longer you spend with her.

Steve thinks he nearly has a heart attack when you eventually stride up to the clothing table, this small child latched tightly to your side. You look so at ease with her head resting against your chest, whispering little comments that manage to engage her amidst all the chaos. At a quick glance, this child could be your daughter. Her eyes have a similar hue to yours — even your noses are similar. His brain starts to go quite fuzzy the longer he spends watching the two of you together.

“What’s your favorite color?” You ask Erica as Steve hands you the small pair of folded sweatpants, underwear, and socks you point to. The girl hums for a second, adjusting her grip on her elephant, “Green.”

“Good choice. I like green too,” You answer, focused intently on her as you shift your arm to hoist her further up your side. Steve watches you with this kind of dumbly adoring look, lips pulled back in a small but optimistic smile as he gets lost in a daydream.

He sees flashes of you, curled up on the couch wrapped in blankets with your children — your children. Yours and his. He sees the smile that spreads over your face on their birthdays, the sadness in your eyes when one of them gets sick, the anger you feel when they mention they’ve been bullied at school.

He sees the road-trip summers with your baby girl — little Marcie Harrington, maybe a younger sister too. He nearly swoons at the thought of your family taking in the sights at Mount Rushmore, the redwood forests, even the Finger Lakes. He imagines you wrangling your daughters in front of the Moab arches while he tries to figure out the damn timer on the camera; he ends up accidentally taking three pictures of himself before finally getting it to work. Then the two of you are splayed out in the sand on some beach while your children nap in the RV — you’re clad in that stupid red bikini you keep taunting him with, your warm and exposed skin practically irresistible. Steve looks at you fondly before leaning over to give you a big kiss under the Californian sun, so incredibly thankful for the life you’ve been able to build together.

“You got any green, Stevie?”

He blinks once, then once more; the first for snapping him back to reality and the second for the nickname. He clears his throat, trying desperately to forget about the blood that rises in his neck. He looks around for a moment, forcing the dream from his mind as he searches for something small enough to fit the girl in your arms. You watch him almost knowingly, like you could picture the same images behind your eyes.

Eventually, he finds a couple of options and holds them up for the girl to pick from; she’s made up her mind from the first one he shows her. Erica gasps, hand immediately shooting outwards to grab the small tie-dyed tee with wide eyes. The pink and green gradient twists and turns across the fabric, clearly enthralling to a child her age.

Her enthusiasm takes you by surprise but it’s a welcome one; you chuckle a bit before speaking, “Oh, that’s a nice one. Good choice.”

As she puts the clothes into the bag, you smile across the table at Steve, effectively punching the air out of his lungs. You casually address him, “Thanks, baby.”

Trying to regain some of his composure, he winks at you as he starts refolding the other shirts, “Any time, ladies.”

Before you get a chance to reply, Erica’s desperately trying to wiggle free from your grasp. The moment she touches down onto the ground, she takes off in a full sprint and gets scooped up into the arms of a couple — you instantly understand this to be her mother and father. The girl looks like a perfect mixture of her parents, maybe more like her dad. It’s hard not to let their reunion warm your veins, the relief in all of their joyful sobs making your eyes a bit misty. You don’t particularly care that she left without any thanks, knowing that her and her family are back together is more than enough.

“You’re good at that.”

Your gaze moves back to Steve. In this light, his eyes are as soft and warm as liquid caramel. He rests a sweater on his shoulder — a gentle smile curls his lips. A bashful expression washes over your face as you feel blood pool in your cheeks, the underlying meaning of his words bringing back a hint of hope inside your chest. You can see your family too.

A flash of red breaks you from the comfort Steve’s attention brings; both of your faces drastically warp as you glance out the window, a very familiar feeling washing away any source of happiness. You find yourself frozen as you stare up at a rapidly moving cloud of smoke. It spreads, expanding large enough to cover the expanse of blue sky until none of it remains. Crowds begin to flock to windows, watching in awe while you and Steve join them, soon joined by Robin and Vickie. White particles begin to gently fall, earning a few shocked noises from the onlookers. You sigh as Steve’s hand finds yours, a silent solace; you both know what this is.

“An earthquake and snow in two days?” Vickie says in a moment of innocent disbelief.

The worst kind of dread rolls over you, the kind where you know that this is only the beginning. Everything that’s been happening has been building to this. You hate to spoil her childlike wonder, but as another bolt of red lightning cracks through the sky, you can’t help it.

“That’s not snow.”

—

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #almost paradise

137 notes · View notes

oceans-goddess · 1 year

Text

Tyler Galpin x Reader Series Pt. 3-- Cute

Summary: You and Tyler get closer during your second visit to the Weathervane, and you realize that you have very little to be worried about, And ohmygosh this isn’t summary but this gif of him is so fricking adorable I can’t keep it together

Link to Pt. 2

Link to Pt. 4

_______________________________________________________________________

“Oh. My. Stars. He asked you to come back and see him?” Lydia squealed as you recounted your conversation with Tyler at the pizza shop.

“Well, I guess, I think he was trying to be nice--” you began, but Lydia put a stop to your excuses right away.

“No, no, no, y/n, if he phrased it exactly the way you just told me, he definitely wants to see you specifically.” She finished with a nod and a knowing smile. You felt your face warm, and the bluebells growing from a hanging pot overhead bloomed in full. Why would Tyler want to see you, you wondered, when all you’d done in front of him was make a mess and embarrass yourself?

As if knowing what you were thinking, Lydia piped up once more: “y/n, you should go see him. He wouldn’t ask unless he meant it, no matter how you left the Weathervane last week.”

“But what if, instead of just a crop of weeds, I end up turning the whole place into a jungle?” I asked. Lydia shook her head.

“Just be yourself. He clearly likes you as you are, so don’t worry about it. Besides,” she continued, one eyebrow cocked comedically, “it’s almost Christmas. Maybe he’s looking for someone to meet under the mistletoe!”

At the mere thought of kissing Tyler, your entire room seemed to flutter with life as vines, leaves, and flowers unfurled.

“Lydia! Stop that,” you whispered, clapping your hands over your eyes as if to shield yourself from both your own powers and your roommate’s comment.

“So it’s settled then,” she said, standing at the foot of your bed. You peeked out from between your middle and ring finger and looked up at the giggly siren.

“What’s settled?” you asked, though you dreaded hearing the answer.

“You are going to go to the Weathervane, and you are going to order a hot chocolate, and you are going to look so hot, and you are going to sit in a booth where he can see you,” she rambled, and you shook your head in exasperation.

“and,” she finished, “you are going to flirt. your. brains. out.”

_______________________________________________________________________

It took another three days for Lydia to convince you of her plan, and by the time you two approached the coffee shop, the two of you had squabbled over your hair, your outfit, and your abilities, with you rejecting every idea of Lydia’s for fear of embarrassment.

Eventually, you settled on an outfit you wore often: one that made you comfortable, but one that Lydia said also complimented your skin tone. You wore your hair pulled away from your face, because Lydia was sure it would make it easier for Tyler to “gaze” into your eyes.

You cringed internally as you thought over that comment.

Suddenly, Lydia paused, and you whirled around to look at her.

“What are you doing?” you asked, but worry washed over you as you caught a mischievous look cross your roommate’s face. She he clasped her hands behind her uniform-clad back, feigning innocence, and said, “I just remembered, I need to grab a book for English class, so I’m gonna go run and grab it from across the street--”

“I’ll come with you!” you offered, dreading the idea of walking inside alone, but Lydia shook her head.

“No, no, it’ll only take a minute! You go start batting your eyes at Mr. Mistletoe.”

You let out a cry of disgust at the nickname she’d given Tyler, but she only laughed and made her way across the street, leaving you to walk into the Weathervane by yourself.

_______________________________________________________________________

The coffee shop was completely empty, and as the door swung shut behind you, a bell above rung, announcing your arrival. Anxiety shot through you, but you held your breath and squeezed your hands together in hopes that you wouldn’t turn the chair next to you into a tree stump.

“Y/n! You’re here!” called a voice from behind the espresso machine. You jumped slightly, but silently rejoiced that there was not a single plant to be seen yet.

That was until you tip-toed to the counter to see Tyler refilling a napkin dispenser: behind him, on the floor next to a small table, were a few tall ferns in a ceramic pot. Right in the center was a cluster of bright purple fern-flowers.

“How are you today?” the barista asked, smiling down at you. You meant to answer but couldn’t form a response, your focus still on the plant in front of you. Following your gaze, Tyler looked down at the ferns.

“Oh, yeah-- that’s uh, that’s yours. I thought it was, uh, I thought it was pretty. So I kept it,” he explained meekly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Yours were a much darker tint as you turned to look at him.

“That’s really...” you began, but couldn’t think of a way to finish. Tyler grimaced and said, “I can totally get rid of it if you think it’s weird--”

“No!” you interjected, the ferns behind Tyler shooting up as if to agree with you.

“No,” you repeated, calmer this time. “That’s really nice of you. Honestly, I thought you wouldn’t have liked them.” Tyler’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Of course I like them! Who doesn’t like flowers?”

You giggled at his response, relaxing a bit.

“So, hot chocolate and a croissant?” he asked, and once again you inwardly chastised yourself for not coming up with your order sooner. Why did he have to be so distracting? Why was his voice always so soft? Why was his personality always so inviting? Why--

You looked up to see him watching you, waiting patiently for an answer, and your face glowed red. Boston ivy crept out from under the sleeves of your sweater, though you quickly pulled at your sleeves to hide the sneaky green leaves.

“Uh, sure thing!” you managed, and he nodded with a wide grin on his face.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, so this time, instead of waiting at the counter, you set your bag down at a booth and took a seat. Pulling a book out of your bag, you took a deep breath and cursed Lydia for tricking you into coming here alone. She knew you would make a fool of yourself the first chance you got, and there you were, barely able to put a sentence together in front of the poor boy! Maybe it would just be best to leave and spare yourself further embarrassment. You could just pack up your things and--

“Here you go,” Tyler said, setting down a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a small pastry in front of you. You let out a short gasp, and a large peony burst open on the booth just behind your ear.

“Woah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the barista said, reaching behind you to pick the pink flower from where it grew.

“No,” you began breathily, eyes laser-focused on his forearm as it moved past your head, “It’s my fault; I wasn’t paying attention.”

Tyler cupped the flower gently in his two hands and sat down across from you.

“Don’t worry about it; you just seem to get in your own head sometimes... It’s honestly kind of cute,” he admitted slowly, and a jolt of electricity shot through your body. Flowers to match the one in Tyler’s hand now covered the table. Cute?

“Really?” you asked, and he nodded, laughing. It was a soft, open laugh, one that made you feel as though this conversation was a lot more comfortable for him than it was for you. He then leaned forward, careful not to crush the other flowers on the table top, and pointed to the book you still held in your hands.

“How is it?”

“Uh, it’s great, actually. This is probably my sixth time reading it. I love it so much,” you answered, giddy at the thought of Tyler finding you attractive--

No.

Not attractive.

He didn’t say attractive.

But cute was a good enough adjective to be giddy over.

“Ha! I haven’t read it six times, but I loved it too. It’s a really relaxing book,” he agreed, and motioned as if asking permission to look at it. You held it out to him, and he took it in his free hand, his thumb holding your page. After a few moments, he smiled up at you, declaring that the page you were currently reading was one of his favorite parts.

“I write notes in the margins of my books, too,” he finished, handing the book back to you. “Maybe we could swap copies. You can read my notes, and I can read yours.”

Your eyes grew wide in excitement, and you leaned forward to match his position.

“Ah! Yes, I would love that!”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Aw, he sounds like such a sweetheart, y/n! And a book lover. Just your type!” Lydia cheered as you both walked back to campus. You had recounted your entire encounter with Tyler to her shortly after admonishing her for leaving you on your own. Part of you wanted to tell the story all over again just for the sake of talking about him.

It’s honestly kind of cute.

Your legs felt unsteady at the memory of his kind remarks, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. The two of you had agreed to meet at the park that weekend to swap books, and though you had been dreading this day all week, you now felt that Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

_______________________________________________________________________

A/N: Gosh, I’m really starting to love these two. Thank you all for reading and supporting my work!

Taglist: @dwindlinghaze @sarcastic-sourwolf @diorgirl444 @fanficfanatic204 @podraje @daydreamer-222 @peachycupotea @runrabbitrun3 @theidioticspirit @vanessa-boo

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin fluff #wednesday #wednesday addams #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin fanfiction #nevermore

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redflagshipwriter · 2 months

Text

Reassembly 5

Masterpost

(What the frick is the bat guy about???)

They did serious damage to Lexy’s credit card in the form of a cast iron pan, a pot, basic cooking utensils and a four-person set of dishware before they even made it to the grocery store.

Peter tried not to go nuts there. He really did. But Kon had that empty kitchen! And to be honest, shopping was major wish fulfillment. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be eating all of the food he got way into it. They stocked up on easy freezer food like pizza rolls and fries. They got pasta mixes and jarred sauces and they got snacks and sweets. He even got Kon baking basics. It might take Kon a while to get into his fresh bread era, but it was going to happen. Peter was calling it now. Kon was just that kind of guy.

The last thing he got was meat. Meat and cheese and fresh vegetables. Peter ended up putting back half of what he initially put in the cart because, honestly, Kon didn’t have a massive super appetite and he didn’t know how to cook yet. Vegetables were just going to go bad, so he only got what he planned to use that night. He also stocked Kon up on breakfast supplies- bread and jam, eggs, sausage, coffee and tea and juice.

‘I wish I was staying with Kon to eat this. I’m going to be hungry again tomorrow.’

Peter pushed down that greedy little thought where it belonged. He was going to be eating lunch and dinner with Kon tonight, since they were cooking together. That was already really generous on Kon’s part. He couldn’t ask for more.

The boys ended up making spaghetti. Peter wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he could cut onion and garlic to cook meat in, shred in carrots and zucchini, and add a jar of red sauce to make something nutritionally dense that tasted really good. Kon hovered over his shoulder watching this process and making faux sports commentary.

“Go away!” Peter shoved Kon with his shoulder, laughing. “Go start the garlic bread.”

“...Garlic bread?” Kon asked hopefully. He seemed way younger than he was sometimes. “You can make that at home?”

“You can, if you get to cutting garlic really small.” Peter tossed him a bulb without looking.

They ate dinner while watching some drama that Kon picked out on a streaming service. “Holy shit,” Kon said quietly after his first bite. He put down the plate and took a photo.

Peter snorted. Kon must have sent it to someone because his phone went off constantly after that.

He wasn’t even done eating their late lunch when he first wondered where he was going to sleep tonight. Peter stared down into his pasta like it might have some answers. When should he leave? What would he say if Kon asked for his phone number? He didn’t have one. He couldn’t give Kon the number to the phone he had on him– he was pretty sure that he really should get rid of it in case someone was tracking him.

He should ask first. If he directed the conversation it would be easier to be normal than if he was just answering questions. So Peter swallowed hard, made himself smile, and said, “This was fun. Wanna hang out again?”

Kon noisily slurped down some sauce and wiggled in place while he chewed and swallowed. “Yeah, we should!” he agreed. “You uh, free later this week?”

He was jobless and homeless with no other acquaintances.

“I have some time,” Peter said casually. “I’m kinda busy tomorrow, but the day after? Should I come over in the afternoon?”

“Yeah!” Kon bounced up off his seat for a moment. “We can finish the projects. Or work on them, at least.” He screwed his face up with a thought. “Can I get your handle or number, in case my work pops up?”

Peter’s smile turned fixed. “Actually, not now,” he said as casually as he could manage. “I dropped my phone in water. I just have my Dad’s old phone right now for emergencies.” He didn’t need to add that lie, but what if he needed to pull out the flip phone later? He didn’t want Kon to think that he just hadn’t wanted to give his number.

Kon laughed. “That sucks, man,” he empathized.

Oh thank Thor, he bought it.

The fabric was dry by then, so Peter helped Kon cut it out and sew it into place. Kon modeled his new look in the living room and then took approximately two hundred selfies while Peter worked on his project. Kon eventually flopped down on the sofa upside down and started sketching out design ideas. Peter glanced over and saw what looked like a boob window cut into some kind of top.

…Kon would look great in it. Peter didn’t comment. He smiled a little more when he went back to cutting out pieces for his own jacket.

“Smile!”

Peter looked over on reflex and cheesed. A shutter went off. “Can I send that to my friends?” Kon asked, so casually that Peter knew it mattered a lot. “Cassie says no way did I meet someone without her.”

“Go ahead.” Peter gave a thumbs up for reasons even he did not understand. Good thing he wasn’t a weird little guy!

Kon looked relieved. There was less tension when he went back to looking at his phone. “Thanks, man. You want to think about dinner soon? You’ve been working for a couple of hours.”

Peter had to blink a few times to process that. Oh yeah, he was pretty stiff. He stretched experimentally. “You’re right,” he said, mildly surprised. “Huh. What did you have in mind?”

Kon shrugged. “Pizza?”

Peter hummed. “We can pull that off,” he decided. “We have… two more jars of marinara, one will do. Cheese, the bell peppers- yeah, that’ll work.” He stood in a smooth movement. “Could you get the flour down from where we put it- yeah, thanks.” Kon hovered back down and handed him the bag.

“I meant that we should order it,” Kon said, but he didn’t protest. “You can make pizza? At home?” He was delighted by this new information.

“You can make basically anything at home,” Peter said, because it apparently needed to be said. “Can you look up a pizza dough recipe?” He got out the salt and tried to remember where he’d put yeast.

Pizza did not go quite as smoothly as the pasta had. Kon brutalized the dough by over mixing it and the gluten developed bonds strong enough to rival the Hulk. But it was still edible! Kon was openly delighted with what he had made. Peter stole sideways glances at him, wondering if he should reassure that it was a great first try.

‘..I’m not sure he knows that it’s really tough,’ Peter decided. He said nothing. They watched one episode of Kon’s selected drama before Peter decided it was time to go.

Kon seemed surprised when Peter said that. He blinked at him a few times. “It felt like I was at the tow- a sleepover,” he said self consciously. He forced a laugh. “Yeah. You wanna leave your stuff here?”

Peter looked around Kon’s surgically clean living room and wondered if Lexy’s cleaning staff would throw away his stuff. “Yeah, sure,” he said, because it wasn’t like he had a place to store a project. “I appreciate that.”

He left not much later, making his excuses and backing out into the night with dread that he didn’t want to face curling in his gut. The feeling intensified as he got down to the lobby of Kon’s apartment building.

It was dark out, even with the streetlights on. The air was cold against his face. Peter huddled into his jacket, hand wound tightly around the strap of the bag with everything he owned in it.

At least he knew the time. It was a little past 10 pm.

He needed a shower and to sleep. The gym should be empty now. He could break back in, shower, and then go sleep on the library couch again. Even if the librarian came in early again, he could get a few hours of sleep.

He woke up again to the sound of keys in the door downstairs. This time he woke up feeling much better rested. Peter wandered blearily until he found a clocktower and realized it was nearly 9 am. Nice. He was working on his sleep debt, then. He surely hadn’t spent more than an hour between traveling to the gym, showering, and getting to the couch last night. That was maybe 9.5, 10 hours of sleep?

He left to a new hotel for a breakfast buffet. This one was particularly sad. He had two pieces of peanut butter toast and a glass of milk before he heard the front door staff quietly phone someone else asking if they had any teenagers staying at the moment. He left pretty quickly after that and walked for a while, heart pounding. The police didn’t descend on him with sirens and lights, so he was probably okay.

‘I can’t go back there.’

Later that day, Peter grimaced and took a moment to indulge in burying his face in his hands. He was overwhelmed and he still felt shitty and dirty and gross despite his shower. Maybe it was getting spotted as a homeless teen eating from the buffet? Yeah. Probably that.

He was in the library again, sitting in front of one of the older computers and hoping he'd get a reply from a potential client who had asked for some information.

Maybe it was a little weird to spend all day in the library. He was on notice for librarians acting like they wanted him to clear out, just in case.

But, assuming no one had any problems with it, why not spend most of his daylight hours there? He could study computer science, use the computers to do his work, and be somewhere temperature controlled for free. They also had pitchers of coffee and tea for free that he took advantage of.

He was hungry, though. He was always hungry. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to Kon’s house. It almost felt worse to be hungry again after eating everything he wanted two meals in a row. Peter suppressed despair. He was doing his best! He was taking care of himself.

"Is everything alright?"

Peter shot up and gave a sheepish grin to the librarian. He hadn't noticed her approaching, but he'd been lost in his head. "It's fine," he said.

The older woman gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can help with. It's what I'm here for."

Oh. Before she could turn away he blurted out, "College!"

Her face lit up. "Are you applying?"

"I need to." Peter wrung his hands together. "But I don't know where to start. I want to go somewhere with a strong sciences program but I think I need to go there on scholarship."

She sat down beside him, an easy smile on her face like this was a topic that she enjoyed. “Do you care about where it is?”

Peter shook his head. “It would be best if I could stay in NYC since I know here, but I’m willing to go anywhere that meets those conditions.”

She nodded slowly. “There’s a few places I can think of.” She hesitated. “Do you expect to be eligible for testing related scholarships?”

“Yeah,” said Peter, who was so good at tests but would probably falsify the results that he needed if he didn’t manage to take tests in time. “I test well. Very well.”

“That’s great! And you said sciences? Technological sciences?” she didn’t glance at his current computer science book, but she didn’t have to.

“Yes,” he said, not entirely sure what he should be focusing on. Engineering, to build some kind of portal? Astrophysics like Dr. Foster, to find an Einstein-Rosen bridge? He’d have to get his foot in the door to figure out what was going on in the fields here. Shit, he should have looked into that already.

“And you would be looking to live by yourself, on campus? Or off? With family?”

“By myself,” Peter said, and wow that was depressing. “And whichever way is cheapest.” He cringed as he said it. That felt pathetic too. He wanted to say he wanted to live on campus since he’d be more likely to meet people that way. But honestly, he had no resources, at all. He couldn’t afford to be picky.

The librarian’s smile was a bit fixed now. “I… I almost hate to suggest it, but have you considered Gotham?” She continued before Peter had to decide whether or not he should admit he didn’t know that university. “It’s a dangerous city to live in, but it’s very affordable, and there’s extensive funding for the sciences and student support services.”

“...Because it’s a dangerous city and doesn’t get many people?” Peter confirmed.

She was doing her best to keep a poker face. “That’s right. They have a brain drain situation at the moment, so the sciences are really well funded. I think you could probably go there with full support, though that might be contingent on taking an internship or job in Gotham after graduation.”

Huh. He considered it. He’d never heard of Gotham, so it had to be a city that didn’t exist back home. But so what? How bad could it be? It was like, Chicago or something? He could handle that. He was Spiderman. He was an Avenger, sort of. So he directed a real smile at the librarian. “If I could get a full scholarship there, I would go in a heartbeat,” Peter said. “Thanks for the suggestion! I’ll look into the university there.”

The librarian patted the side of his chair as she stood up. “Wonderful! Let me know if you change your mind or have any questions!”

He ended up having a lot of questions, actually, once he started looking into Gotham, but he didn’t think, “What the frick is the vampire bat guy about?” was what she’d had in mind.

#red reassembly #marvel dc crossover #kon el kent #peter parker #dark matter inspired

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awfullordhenry · 1 month

Text

Caught Ya Doc! (Scout x Medic) (Giant/Tiny) (Chapter 1)

It was a typical day for the RED Scout and his teammates. He is the youngest and fastest of all of the team. Scout suffers from need for attention that cause others to be annoyed at presence, partimilarly in the case of his that his deserves special treaneat, as demonstzated by the constant denand of "a dispenser here." He is incredibly narcissistic and vain in himself, which leads to him having a very big ego. He loves to taunt and mock his enemies and even insult them in the most offensive and vile ways, making the Scout look more like a bully and a douchebag.

One day, Scout was playing with his Sandman baseball bat. He felt a small, thin, sharp pain in his finger. He had a splinter that made him scream. He ran toward the Medic and begged him for his splinter to go away.

Medic got annoyed and ignored him. Scout gets really angry and says, " YO, WHY DID YA STOP HEALING ME?!". Medic responded with, "Listen Scout, I'm sick and tired of you begging me to heal you despite you being the fastest one in zhis team! I think you need to help on your own." Scout stormed off from Medic's presence. He ran into his room and covered himself in his pillow, and cried because the splinter was too painful to bare.

His room was disorganized and littered with clothes and trash, but not to the point of hordering. On the walls were covered with posers comic book heros, baseball stars, and pin ups of women. His nightstand has a bottle of questionable white stuff sitting on top of it as well as a magazine with semi-nude models. He then thought up a sadistic plan to get revenge on Medic.

Meanwhile, Medic is doing a medical check-up with Heavy. Heavy was concerned about what he did to Scout. "Heavy thinks doktor is being too hatsh to lettle Scout," he said. "Oh, come on, Heavy, you know Scout is a pain in the ass all zhe time."Heavy still thinks you need to make a mince to lettle Scout."

"Okey, fine, but if I'm not satisfied, I vill not change my mind." Medic left his office after his checkup. He entered Scout's room, only to find out that he's nowhere to be seen. He called out his name a few times.

"Come on, Scout, I don't have time for zhis," Medic said before Scout lunges for his closet and shoots with a strange looking gun. It shrinks the Medic down to five inches. Medic was caught off guard before looking up and seeing a giant that looked like Scout smiling at him. Medic screamed as he ran into cover.

However, Scout is fast enough to scoop Medic in time. He holds Medic by his coat with his index finger and thumb. "SCOUT, VHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" Medic screamed. "Duh, I've shrink ya. What are ya, stupid?". "YOU'RE GOING TO BE IN BIG TROUBLE VHEN ZHE ADMIN -".

Scout dangled Medic by his leg, which freaked him out even more. "I don't give a crap. All it matters is that YOU DIDN'T FRICKING HEAL ME!". "OKEY FINE, ONLY IF YOU PUT ME DOWN AND I VILL FIX YOUR SPLINTER!". Scout accepted his offer and looked for a safe place to place Medic. He placed him on his bed.

Medic reached for his pocket and pulled out a banaid and said "alright, let me see your finger." Scout showed him his splinter. Medic removed the tiny piece of wood, causing Scout to whimper . His finger is bleeding, which Medic covered it with the banaid. "Thanks, doc!" Scout said.

"Now, can I get back to normal size?" Medic ask. "Nah, I'm keeping ya small, weak, and cu -". Scout caught off sentence when he covered his mouth, surprised by what he had said. Medic was confused by his response. "Vhat, did you just say?".

Scout was silent for a moment before Medic asked, "I'm asking you a question. Vhat, did you just say-". "You're so cute..." Scout mumbled while his face grows a slight pink color. Medic noticed his face turning pink. "Oh my God, you are blushing!" "Shut up, I'm not in love with you or anything.".

"Yes, you are Scout. It's a common response in many romantic or emotionally charged scenarios" Medic explained. "Well, if I'm so in love with ya, we would be doing it right now." Scout responded with a slight smile. "Vell zhat's not going to happen because I'm already taken." Scout grew a grimace on his face upon discovering this new information. "How come you don't like me? I'm the hottest man alive!" Scout responded while flexing his arms.

"Let's just get some rest. It's getting late." Medic responded while yawning. He took off his coat and gloves while Scout took his hat and shirt. Medic was just idling at Scout's unclothed chest. He thought how strangely attractive he was.

Scout caught Medic staring right at him. "Hey, are you alright?" Scout said. Medic snaps out of it as Scout poked him. "Are you really going to sleep like vhat?" Medic asked. "Panjamas are so overrated. I always sleep like this!" Scout responded. He crawled into bed while Medic was making himself comfortable in the giant bed by covering himself with a small portion of the blanket

Scout noticed him and gently picked him up. He placed Medic on top of his bare chest. Medic was flattered by the smoothness of his chest. "Oh my God, your chest is so smooth!" He said while massaging Scout's chest. Scout reached his hand towards him and pinned him to his chest and said, "Gotcha!"

He chuckled while he teased Medic. "Go to sleep, little guy~" he said while he grabbed the covers over the both of them. Medic was relaxed with Scout's hand on his back. He then fell asleep while Scout softly striched his head. He dosed off and slept for the night.

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