Hinakamiya - Michi

Priority One

You come first for Jason ~800 words

At his core, Jason Todd puts himself last. He's the first to jump in front of a bullet, first charge into a burning fire, first to drop dead center into a group of thugs.

It's not that he doesn't care about his safety, it's just that he deems his safety as lesser. He's stronger, sturdier, and if he's the one that goes down instead of someone else? That's a good thing.

He knows people would worry. People would miss him. But they'd move on the same way they did before. They would fill the gaps in the spaces he leaves, and there wouldn't be a need to pick the pieces off the floor because nothing would break at his loss.

At least, that used to be the truth. It was the truth until you nestled your way into his heart, and he somehow became a fixture in your life. He didn't mean to do it, didn't mean to make you fall in love with him, and he certainly didn't mean to fall in love with you.

But he did.

And now he makes sure you sleep on the inside on the bed, safe between the wall and him. He walks between you and the road, always on guard for swerving cars and shady civilians. He checks your apartment during patrol, though it's more for his peace of mind than yours.

Jason Todd still puts himself last, but the thought of you comes first, when he dives into the line of fire. If he doesn't come home, who's going to fix the leaky faucet or take out the trash when it gets full?

You could do it, he knows you could, but he doesn't want you to have to. So, he upgrades his armor when he would normally put it off. He's quicker to stop the blood dripping from his wounds. He's more aware, when he's shifting through the shadows of an enemy base.

He never worried about what he would leave behind. Not until you started to kiss his jaw before his nightly patrol, not until you started to reach for him every time he came home, beckoning him to your side and under the waiting, warm blankets.

He worries now. He makes plans, sets aside money, and makes his closest allies promise to keep an eye on you if he ever can't. He becomes your shield, whether you're aware of it or not, he has you covered.

You're his priority, and in becoming so, he's slowly becoming a priority, too. You're happier when he's okay, so he steadies his reckless tendencies. He dismantles the bomb in his helmet. He turns on his tracker for Oracle to keep an eye on.

For all the times he looks after himself, it's with you on his mind. He double checks his gear because he needs to pick up paper towels on the way home for you. He cleans his grappling hook because you asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow.

He waits for backup before breaking up Penguin's latest smuggling ring because you recommended a book for him to read, and he only has a handful of chapters left to finish.

It's you, and you, and you again, that gives him a reason to want to make it to sunrise. It's you, that makes him really want to live.

He wants to see coast cities and tiny forest towns outside of whatever crime he's hunting down. He wants to travel and explore and try everything and anything– as long as it's with you.

He'd give up the world, give up everything he knows, as long as he can give you what you want. But all you ever ask, even if it's not in so many words, is for him to come home. So he does. Every night. Every day. Every time. Jason Todd finds his way back to you because your wants are his first concern.

He sheds his armor and kicks off his boots and leaves everything but the thought of you at your windowsill. He smiles when you murmur your sleepy greetings because he knows you think his smiles are pretty. He checks the locks and changes into the pajama set that matches with yours because you giggle every time you see it.

And all these things are so little yet so big all in one. They fill the cracks beneath his skin, and when he finally has you in his arms again, Jason Todd knows that nothing will be greater than this, than you.

There is no adversary, no injury or mission, that would have his gaze from straying from his singular goal; making it back to your arms to fill your days with all you deserve. With joy. With love. And for as long as you desire it, with him.

boo tsukki's masterlist

welsome to boo tsukki's masterlist, a place where you will be able to find all my works.

please, check the warnings for every post as some of them may contain smut or specific topics that may trigger people.

HAIKYUU!!

tsukishima kei

aita series – a series where tsukishima kei asks reddit about his relationship problems

*aita extra*

a pleasant surprise

scary movies with you

his whole world

the graduation gift

uncle kei

the best of the world

our white lie series - ongoing series! on hiatus until july! tsukishima kei tells his friends he has a girlfriend. but that's not the truth, the truth is that you're just his neighbour-turned-fake-girlfriend.

operation: does tsukki like (y/n)?

bouquets of our love

the velveteen rabbit

a mystery ring

miya atsumu

interruptions

have you ever tried... this one?

miya osamu

the feeling of her hands

jigsaw

kageyama tobio

secret's out

a life… together?

bokuto kōtarō

the olympic kiss

the show

Beach Walk

Pairing : Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!reader

Summary: You can plan all you want, but half of the time they will never work out. Sequel to Under the lemon tree  and On a date

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series

Warning : T-M rating. Fluff.

Series masterlist

Master list

Kyle Garrick is a planner. AND Kyle GAZ Garrick is a METICULOUS planner. 

This is why he is the best of the best. The record holder. Being mentored by the legendary Captain Johnathan Price. 

But his experiences and planning never prepared him for this question.

“... What is that bulge in your pants Kyle?”

Shit.

“You want to propose to her?” Price cocked an eyebrow, surprise evident on his face. 

Gaz nodded his head, shyly. “I thought it’s about time..” Looking down at his cup of tea. “I just want a bit of an opinion on how you guys did it..”

“Well, that I can give you a bit of advice on. First you need to get a ring…” “Soap. You blurted your proposal out of the blue. You didn’t even have a ring picked out. You didn’t even plan for anything.” Simon interjected. 

Soap shot Simon a look. “But it still got the job done, right?” 

“Can’t argue with that.” Simon grumbled. 

“Yours isn’t that much better.” Soap countered. “All you did was slam the ring box on the table and asked my sister to marry you.”

“Got the job done, right?” Throwing Soap’s argument right back at him, Simon smirked. 

Shaking his head, not getting any help from his two teammates, he turned towards his captain. 

Before he could open his mouth and ask, he heard a voice chiming in. 

“Don’t bother asking him. He wasn’t any better than Sergeant Soap.”  Chameleon laughed, moving from the door towards Price’s desk, she put his cup of tea down onto his desk. 

“Thanks love.” Price grumbled, “At least I had a ring picked out.” 

“That you did.” She leaned down and gave her husband a kiss on the head before turning back to Gaz. 

“Last I heard she had been wanting to go to the beach.” she hinted. “She always says you do the best picnic dates. So,” pointing to Gaz, “don’t screw this up.”

Your eyes brightened up when Gaz suggested a weekend getaway and picnic by the seaside. 

“I haven’t been to the beach in a few years!” you smiled, “We used to spend a few days there, after the mountain camping trip, where I met you.” you noted shyly. “But I haven't been there much since I moved away from home to study, and started working.. OH I am so excited!”

And now his plan has fallen apart. Running through plan A to Z. Nothing in those scenarios helps to answer the question you just asked him.

“Um.” He flustered. Think of something Kyle. THINK. “Just rubbish I found on the beach.” 

Pointing towards the bin a few metres away, “The rubbish bin is over there.” 

“Uh, it’s recyclable. Don’t want to throw it into general waste.” You pointed towards the bin right beside it, “Recycle bin is over there.” 

Fuck. That didn’t work. “ uh, It was an interesting shape of rubbish, I want to take it home and put it on my shelf.” He knew it was a bad idea to keep the ring box in his pants. But he didn’t want to leave it in the car or in the picnic basket where you can accidentally spot it or some random stranger or possible thieves to steal it. So the best option? Keeping it in his pocket while the two of you stroll down the beach.

“Kyle, you need to tidy up your study, you have too many things that you need to put away in there!!” you quipped.  “Come on, show me what it is. I want to see how interesting it is..” your hand reaches for his pocket, ready to take out the box he is hiding in there.

‘No. Nonono. No. Um. NO.” he grabbed your hand with a fast reflex, stopping you before you could reach it. 

“Kyle Garrick, what are you hiding from me?” your lips turn down into a frown. “You've been acting all strange for the last few weeks after you suggested the trip.” looking down at the ground, you started to kick sand around,“ you didn’t want to go swim in the sea, or even go near the water.” you looked back up into his eyes, eyes glittering with tears, “did you change your mind? Something is bothering you?” Did you change your mind about us? The hidden undertone and disappointment is evident within your voice.

His mouth went dry with the strong salty sea breeze blowing past, carrying a whiff of your citrus perfume that you love so much and the slight coconut scent sunscreen you insisted on applying.

“Don’t think you are in the UK and you won’t get sunburnt.” You chidded and started blabbering about facts on skin cancer etc as you smear on layers and layers of sunscreen onto his body. 

Now that sunscreen is making his hand sticky and slippery as he sweats with nervousness. Making him look more guilty. He couldn’t really explain to you he was scared to go into water before so his pants wouldn’t get wet and make the ring box more evident, or in that slim possible chance that the ring get washed away and disappear into the sea???

Taking a big gulp, he whispered,“Well, technically I am hiding something from you..” 

You look like you were about to burst into tears, he hastily kneeled down on one knee.

Plans be damned. For once in his life he will just wing it. 

“I.. I had all these things planned out.” he took a deep breath as he launch into his impromptu speech, “step by step, down to the tiniest details.” he did a nervous chuckle as you clench his hand tight, “ But, like the previous two times, you came crashing into my life,throwing me off unexpectedly,  giving me surprises after surprises.” he can feel himself trembling as he takes out the box from the pocket, where he has been hiding the ring.

“My darling, my first and only love. The beautiful girl with innocent eyes and the sweetest temper who had captured my heart.” You gasped out loud as you realise what is he about to do.

“I have been in love with you since the first time we ever met as a child. Right under that lemon tree.” his voice wavering, trying hard not to break down with high emotion.

“You have always been in the back of my mind. All those years. And I am so glad fate gave us another chance. Finding each other again. Although I failed to recognise you at first at our second meeting,” letting out a small chuckle.

“Can I be that lucky person, to spend the rest of my life with you? To be that person you see when you open your eyes first thing in the morning, and for you to give me goodnight kisses before I go to sleep at night, to remind me how fortunate and thankful that I have you. My forever love."

You couldn’t even let out a coherent response, just nodding your head furiously as you throw yourself at Kyle, arms around him tight as you start to cry, with happiness.

Both of you sank down into the sandy beach, with Gaz in relief everything worked out at the end, and with you finally find out why he is acting all weird for weeks.

And all of sudden both of you hear people clapping and whistling, shouting out congratulating words.

You buried your face into his neck, in embarrassment. 

“Oh gosh…”

“Oh dear.. Didn’t expect to have audiences gathering…” Gaz chuckled nervously. “Sorry, that was not part of my plan either..”

You let out a little sobbing laugh, “Always a planner.” ‘

“I sure am. But it didn't quite work out this time round.” pulling away from you slightly, he moved his hand to cup your face, “but I am glad it all worked out at the end. I love you, my darling.Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Kyle.” Leaning into his forehead. “Now we have the rest of our lives to look forward to.” 

“So,I heard you had to wing it at the end aye?”

“Shut up Soap. At least I did have plans beforehand. It half worked.”

“Sure. Whatever you say…” 

partly based on how my friend's husband proposed to her. he kept refusing to go into the ocean because he had the rings in his pocket.....

Tag list :

@deadbranch

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@voxyin

@lia0-0

@floral-force

@saltofmercury

@siilvan

@rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes

@okayyadriana

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@jynxmirage

@nrdmssgs @schr-torta @glitterypirateduck @devcica @cumikering @roosterr

@groguspicklejar

@obsolescent @whydoilikewhump

I love The Golden Girls.

aaaaah I'm so glad your askbox is open!! Could I possibly request Gaz and some body worship please?

➸ battle ready (gaz x gn!reader)

a/n; drabble/short fic !! you didn’t specify who was getting worshipped, so i made this about gaz getting worshipped :p enjoy! — pudgy, muscular men agenda btw

[warnings; extremely suggestive, soft, fluffy.]

In all senses of it, you loved Kyle’s body. Starting from the top, you love his prominent nose, the way it dips into his philtrum and cupid’s bow, his full lips. His strong brow bone and his wrinkles along his forehead, the smile lines ingrained in his face. The two small atrophic scars below his eye is something you always adored. 

You love the way Kyle’s jaw curves, his big brown eyes. Fuck, everyone knew you couldn’t say no to the man when he would flash you a pretty smile paired with his eyes.

You trail your mouth down his neck—God, his neck. You’d never tell him in fear of him finding it stupid, but you love his throat and shoulders. Strong and full of power—his Adam’s apple jutting out against your lips. You love his throat because inside is his vocal cords—you could get drunk off of hearing him talk, hearing him laugh. Kyle’s joy means so much to you, so much more than he will ever know.

Kyle murmurs your name softly as your lips trail across his collarbone, nearing his chest. 

You love his chest, wide and muscular with a little bit of pudge (well, he has some pudge everywhere); enough muscle to overpower and destroy, enough pudge to know he’s eating right and taking care of himself. You let out a soft sigh as your lips brush against a nipple before you press soft kiss to the skin right below his left pec, following the random pattern of beauty marks and freckles across his torso.

Kyle’s hand comes up and rests on your bare back as you trail over to his arms. You love his arms—you love his everything, to be fair, but the pure power from his arms drives you out of your mind sometimes. The muscles, his strong bicep flexing and molding into his triceps—you wanna bite him, honestly. Bite him and never let go. Especially when he wears t-shirts that hug his arms.

Trailing down his upper arm, over his inner elbow to his thick forearms. The muscles and tendons underneath the skin you appreciate like they’re a fine instrument; aren’t they, for a man like Kyle? His fingers, his precision. You press kisses down his forearm, between his veins until you get to his wrist. Kyle looks at you and his eyebrows twitch as he watches your tongue and drag across his pulse point, against his wrist bone.

It sends a shudder down his spine as your lips move to his palm. Kyle’s hands are incredible; rough to the touch yet so gentle with his lover, you. His calluses scratch you gently when he rubs your back, but his palm is so careful with you. Kyle uses his hands to break so much, but he uses them to preserve you—you and your grown together home.

“What’re you doin’?”

Kyle’s voice breaks you out of your near hungry trance, your eyes flickering up to his. He isn’t upset in any sense; he’s nervous, really. Kyle adores attention, but.. you’re being so slow. Meticulous and careful. 

“Appreciating you.” You murmur against his palm, brushing your nose against it before moving over to right below his sternum. You’re met with a quiet yet sharp inhale from the man below you, the muscles tightening as you press slow, gentle kisses down his stomach. Kyle’s stomach is built yet a small layer of fat exists over his abs, the man built for force and survival instead of showing off like bodybuilders.

You catch his eyes and hold his gaze as you kiss down below his belly button before his head rolls back with his stomach tightening.

Kyle groans as you pepper kisses lower and lower. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, and certainly will not be the last. Not by a long shot.

masterlist; simon “ghost” riley

updated: I’ve put them in order of time if you want to read them that way.

just practice

simon eats you out for the first time.

your first christmas

simon is hurting and takes it out on you.

patient

simon comes home to find a joint in your apartment, something that reminds him of the past.

candied ginger

simon starts touching you on the way home from the grocery store.

nightmare

simon accidentally hurts you after having a nightmare.

a relationship with simon is far from easy

you and simon have a fight.

soft ramblings over tea

you and simon share tea the night before he leaves.

against the wall

simon finds himself wanting to give you a baby.

it’s safe here

simon says “I love you” for the first time.

surprising ghost with a pregnancy

...you surprise ghost with a pregnancy

merry christmas, lieutenant

soap runs into his lieutenant off-duty and meets the girl he has been keeping a secret (you).

buckshot

simon teaches you how to shoot so you can protect the family.

soft around the edges

ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team.

uncle johnny

soap and ghost stay at your home for the night.

drabbles:

TLC from simon

anniversary

your son has a tantrum

ghost + your son's teddy bear

ghost's daughter runs up to him

your native language

domesticity turns him on

all dad!ghost here

au where ghost d*es here

COD Men and Bad Brain Days

This is my self indulgant way of dealing with the titanic amount of stress that is making my brain whisper of the void. I will stick around, I have to much to be a menace about but why not think about how they would deal with it? Plus if my mother (derogatory) gets to outlive me? Absolutely not.

CW: Suicidal thoughts mentioned

Johnny: Froze a bit once he understands what you are saying.

"Bonnie, why? What? I don't understand?" He holds your face so tight as he flicks his gaze between your eyes.

You laugh lightly, "There is nothing to understand Johnny, sometimes my brain just starts throwing around death as an option. I've learned to tell people so they can help me keep me present. I don't want to die, and I have no plans. I just need you to know that if I randomly start crying I'm okay. I already have an appointment with my doctor and my therapist scheduled to look at my meds."

The concern doesn't leave his face as he pulls you in for a hug. Johnny is always watchful of you but it definately takes on a new level after telling him about the thoughts coming back.

Kyle: Pulled the car over the moment he realizes what you said to him and rests his head on the steering wheel.

"Thank you for telling me, what can I do for you?"

Fighting back the tears you blink and fan your eyes.

"Nothing really? My therapist challenged me to tell someone the next time these thoughts pop up, and I trust you enough to know you won't freak out." You watch him carefully take in several deep breaths before he sits upright and looks at you.

If his eyes are a bit shiny with tears? Neither of you mention it.

"Want to get a drink and sit in the sun for a bit?" He offers.

"I would love that." The tears flow this time. Kyle holds your hand until he is forced to let it go to get out of the car.

Gary: He would find you mid-breakdown because dammit you thought you were past this? It had been years since the last time your brain betrayed you like this and life was going good for once? Yes, you were under some stress but not enough to warrent this overreaction by your brain.

He would pull you into a hug as he sits next to you on the floor and hum lullabies and the randomest collecitons of songs that live inside his head. When you can finally breath without a hitch in your breath he would ask what is wrong.

"My brain is lying to me again. Saying that being dead would be easier than dealing with all this stress," you sniffle into his shoulder.

"Being dead would be easier," he observes calmly.

When you shoot him a glare because that is NOT helpful, he smiles and rubs a thumb through the tears leftover on your face.

"But I know you don't want that, and I'll keep you present and healthy. Let's get some food delivered and then go over some of the things I can take off your plate until things settle down, alright?"

When that causes a new round of tears Gary orders dinner from his phone before coaxing you to the couch with the promise of your favorite show (He can't stand it but knows it will help.)

Simon: The hug he would give you after you hold him? Soul altering. He holds you until you feel real again and presses a kiss to your head. If you find something helpful he asks that you share because he has dealt with his own share of suicidal thoughts ravaging his already messed up mind.

He starts picking up tasks around the house, starting the shower or making dinner, as a way to help you. He checks in at least once a day. He isn't overbearing about it, knowing that the fact you told him is a huge sign of trust and he wouldn't dare abuse it.

John: Oh this man, he would be calling your doctor and therapist and setting up an appointment for you the instant you fell asleep for one of those exhaustion naps. He would book you for a hair cut, a massage, and to get your nails done before the week is out.

He's lost good friends to suicide and the idea that you might disappear? That your thoughts might get to loud to hear that he loves you? He would never recover if he lost you like that. John makes you cry again when he explains everything he has set up for you but he shows his love through actions and these are things he can control. If he could mount a full scale invasion on your brain to kick out whatever makes you think of death as an option he would in a heartbeat.

Masterlist

You Say Goodbye to Soap (18+)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content warnings: Verbal child abuse, she/her reader Word Count: 3.5k

Service Dog Johnny Part 19 (full part list here)

Simon doesn’t do crowds. 

Well, he does them, he’s just on pins and needles the whole time. He turns into something granite and hyper-aware, covered as much as he can be with a medical mask and long sleeves, so you try not to force him through it too often. Sometimes though, there’s a good reason for suffering.

“Fuck you,” Johnny mutters, arms crossed while you both watch your boyfriend seamlessly plink through targets, with that mini rifle tucked tight into his shoulder. “Right prick.”

“Eight out of ten is still really good,” you remind him. Johnny only missed the first two targets, and that’s understandable considering the carnival air guns can’t possibly be accurate.

“Used my go to sight the weapon, is what he did. I’m goin’ again.”

You’re not entirely sure that it’s possible to aim a gun just by watching someone else shoot it, but then again, Simon is finishing up the last target right now, dead center.

“C’mere, you.” Your man motions you over with a jerk of his head, handing the pea shooter back to the bored worker. 

Simon watches your face as you hurry over to him, as if your delighted smile is all he wanted in the first place. You quickly scan the prize options as his hand settles against the curve of your lower back. Unicorn… cat… sloth… raccoon… teddy bear. 

You choose the pillow-sized raccoon because it’s fluffy, and it reminds you of Simon before he washes off his eyeblack. 

“Thanks,” you chirp, hugging your prize and stepping out of the way for Johnny’s turn. 

“Someone had to pick up the slack,” Simon mutters, turning his eyes to the determined set of Johnny’s shoulders.

Horrified, you shoot him a look that conveys, ‘You’d better shut the fuck up, or else.’

Plink. Plink. Good start. 

“Better hurry up, Johnny,” Simon drawls. “Too slow, you’re gonna miss it.”

“Simon,” you hiss at him, only to observe a devious light in his eye while he pretends he can’t hear you. 

Plink, plink, plink.

“Two, ten, seven, reload,” Simon barks. “Oh look, Graves is here.”

“I’ll fawkin’ kill ye,” Johnny growls against the stock, nailing the last few targets in rapid succession. 

Your face is burning by the time Johnny sets the gun aside. Of all the days for Simon to antagonize him, why does he have to pick this one? You’re not even sure there will be another chance to see Johnny after today, and instead of minding the delicate balance of things, your boyfriend’s decided to stomp all over it. 

Yet somehow, you seem to be the only one concerned. Johnny merely spares his friend a passing glare before turning back to the prizes, selecting a sparkly unicorn for himself. 

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” you offer with a shocked laugh.

He hugs it against his chest. “Aye, when I’m good and dead. No one’s separating me from my unicorn.”

Right. Okay, then. 

The sun has just gone down, and taken the last of the warmth with it, so you thread your fingers in with Simon’s and look around for things to do before the nighttime crowd fills the park.

“What kind of rides do you like, Johnny?”

He winks at you over the fluffy rainbow mane. “Fast ones.”

“Bloody hell,” your boyfriend sighs. “I’m gonna be stuck holding the toy shop for the pair of you.”

“We can take turns,” you suggest. “Look, this one’s the biggest roller coaster they have. You and Johnny go, before the line gets too long.”

Simon doesn’t disagree, but he starts squinting up at the ride the closer you get to it, as if he’s inspecting the track for defects. You’re just about to reach for the unicorn Johnny’s passing to you, when Simon makes a grunt of disapproval. 

“Fuckin’ back brace on him, I’m not going.”

Sure enough, one of the workers is gingerly crossing the platform to unstrap riders, while encased in a turtle shell of a brace. 

Johnny scoffs. “Didn't break it on the ride, you dobber.”

“Fuck are we supposed to know that?” 

“He’d be dead then, wouldn’t he? Puddle on the pavement.”

“No one is dying on these rides,” you insist, snatching Johnny’s toy. “It’s perfectly safe.” 

Simon smoothly plucks both animals from your grasp. “Seeing as you’re not worried, you and Johnny go.”

Okay, well, now you’re worried. 

You find yourself spectacularly stuck next to Johnny in that stuffy queue leading up to the platform, feeling like a total idiot for getting so easily conned into it. Why couldn’t you have thought of an excuse to avoid this? You only suggested the ride to give the guys a chance to have fun together without stepping on anyone’s toes, and instead you’re left scrambling for small talk. 

It’s not that you don’t want to be alone with Johnny, it’s just that you weren’t expecting it to happen so suddenly. You were perfectly fine with using Simon as a buffer for the night, and never bringing up that whopping pile of confusion until Johnny was at least willing to open up a little. But now he’s alone with you, acting fairly happy and normal, as if he never walked out that door. 

Is that what he wants? Is this going to turn into some horrible game of evasion, where he wanders back into your life and you’re forced to pretend nothing ever happened, and just hope he doesn’t do it again? Can you live like that?

You tried winging it before. You never made him explain himself to you or communicate, and all it did was blow up in your face.  

“So why’d you pick the raccoon?”

You blink yourself out of your thoughts, focusing on his face in the cheery glow of Christmas lights. “Oh, um. They’re cute. And I guess I like wild animals.”

For some reason Johnny laughs at your genuine answer. “Makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what it means.” He rests his elbows back on the steel railing and gives you this irritating smirk, so you roll your eyes in return. Okay, Flirt MacTavish. Nice to see you again, it’s been a while. 

Thankfully the line moves forward right when you need it to, and you sidestep his teasing eyes to poke your head around the beam and scan the waiting area for Simon.

“Oh my god, Johnny,” you whisper. “Look.”

His body presses to your back as he looks over your shoulder, and is greeted by the same sight you are — Simon, with one enormous plushie wedged under each arm, engaged in apparent conversation with some random, gray-haired grandma. You can’t see his mouth moving behind the mask, but he’s inclining his head the same way he does when he’s talking to you. 

“She’s stealin’ your man, hen.”

“Let her. He likes the attention.”

The stuffed animals have absolutely shattered his carefully constructed standoffishness. They’re like a beacon of cuteness, inviting in questions and curious looks, and honestly it serves him right for abandoning you to Johnny like this. You hope he’s suffering, but from the relaxed slouch of his shoulders, you kind of doubt it. 

Finally you get buckled into the ride next to Johnny, and the nerves you have about him give way to your more pressing fear of heights. When was the last time you rode in one of these things? All of a sudden the pattern of loops spreading across the open air in front of you look a lot more serious than they did from the ground. 

“Don’t let Simon see you scared,” Johnny says, nudging your shoe with his. The ride starts forward with a reverberating clunk, clunk.

“I’m not,” you lie. 

“Hold my hand then, or you’re full of shit.”

That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, but you mold your palm around his and squeeze it tight, right before the drop. 

Holy shit.

Johnny wasn’t kidding about liking fast rides. He whoops and laughs through most of it, and you’re not sure if it’s the actual rush that’s getting to him, or your terrified shrieks. The loops hit rapidly one after another, and you just try to hang on as you pass through your threshold of fear and beyond. By the time you finally hit the end of the ride, your heart is slamming in your chest, and Johnny’s hand seems to have permanently fused with yours. 

As the ride cars slowly chug up that loud conveyor belt to the platform, you unlock your spine and glance over at your friend to make sure he’s all in one piece. 

He’s gorgeous. Ruddy-cheeked from the cold, breathlessly grinning at you, as if he’s exactly where he wants to be right now. Beautiful, human, completely impenetrable and emotionally closed-off.

It makes you want to hit him. 

You’d go to town on his stupid chest if you could, punching and slapping those perfect muscles on up and down his shoulder. You want to scream in his ear until he understands how much pain he’s put you through, because maybe then this hold he has on you would finally release. If you burned all your bridges and told him never to come back, maybe you’d stop wanting him quite so fiercely. 

Because even after all of that, you do want him. You want to own him. You want to ruin him. You want him like Veruca Salt stomping her foot and shrieking, ‘Daddy, give him to me!’

You want your heart to connect with his, and that craving is so intense that you’re almost jealous of anyone who’s ever deeply known him. Jealous of Simon, who always seems to understand what Johnny’s thinking before you do. It feels wrong, existing so close to Johnny and not touching, not staring, not knowing. 

Not allowed to know. 

This was all a mistake. A combination of oversights from all three of you, until you’ve reached this point of pain that was so, so preventable.

Johnny leans towards you as you pull your hand away from his. “Hungry?” 

The line for the concession stand is annoyingly long. You’re waiting here by yourself because you really needed some space to clear your head. You mentally repeat your food order to yourself, as if it won’t evaporate out of your brain the second you step up to the window.

Three pretzels, two cheeses, two hot chocolates, and do you have any hot tea? 

You’re being idiotic about Johnny. Look at them over there, holding a conference at the picnic table with two stuffies propped up next to each of them. How could you dare be jealous of the most important friendship Simon’s ever had? You’d have to be some kind of selfish monster to deny either of them that comfort. 

Three pretzels, two cheeses, two hot chocolates, and do you have any tea bags, and packets of sugar?

You just weren’t prepared for how unsatisfying this night would be. You’re giving Johnny space, and Simon’s giving you space, and it all makes you want to cry. 

“I hope you’re fucking happy.”

Your heart begins to race, hearing those words spat with such hate from somewhere behind you. Instinctively you twist your face around in search of the threat, hoping it’s just some old person berating a server who will never have to see them again. But no, it’s much worse.

An older man sits across from a boy who looks to be about nine, his lip curled up in contempt as he stares the kid down.

Looking away, the boy mumbles something you don’t catch, but the man doesn’t even let him finish before sneering, “You’re a pansy, is what you are. ‘Fraid of a little roller coaster. Don’t know why I bother taking you anywhere nice like this, when you’ll just wimp out.” 

Outrage pushes blood to your face, as you glance back over at Simon. He’s too far away to hear what’s going on, still shooting the shit with Johnny. It’s just you and the couple in front of you who seem to notice, the woman giving you an exasperated look, and the man determinedly staring straight ahead. 

You know that tone of voice. That kind of disrespect has is etched into your bones, and you know exactly what it leads to. It’s the voice Simon grew up with, the one he has in his head every day, and has to convince himself to ignore. 

Helplessly you take another step forward in line, watching the boy in your peripheral vision when he at last decides that the tirade is over, and raises his head. The direction of the kid’s sad gaze shouldn’t surprise you, but it does, as he peers over at your two soldiers across the way. 

You look as well, wondering what he sees. Two large men, built strong enough to hurt anyone who talks down to them? Friends who are comfortable with each other, happily performing for no one? Or maybe he’s seeing the innate self confidence they have, to be able to hold their heads high while lugging around stuffed animals in public. It’s almost a display of power, if you look at it through the boy’s eyes. Or at the very least, it’s freedom.

Maybe it’s because you know about Simon’s childhood. Or maybe it’s your own memories growing up that flood you with righteous anger, the firsthand knowledge of how it is to live in fear. How the wrath of your ‘trusted adult’ is absolutely inescapable at that age. You know that weight. You can see it on that boy’s shoulders, suffocating him. 

You know what, you’re going to say something. You’re not going to just turn your head away, like that man in front of you. You’re going to walk right up to that awful dad and chew him out, for your sake and for the sake of every kid who’s ever had to listen to words like that. 

Clutching your purse tighter and squaring your shoulders, you’re just mustering up the anger you need to go through with it, when— 

“Next in line? Next in line?”

“Oh, uh…” you step forward, trying to remember what you came here for. “Do you have… pretzels?”

The worker gives you a deadpan look and gestures over to the very obvious display of soft pretzels under heat lamps. 

“O-okay, yeah, two of those, please. No, wait, three, and cheese.”

“Three pretzels and cheese,” the guy recites, giving you the total. 

You’re obviously not going to cuss anyone out while holding a bushel of pretzels, so once you’ve paid you stuff your wallet back into your purse, and head towards your table to unload. 

“Can’t believe there’s no smoking here,” the horrible man grumbles as you pass by, fishing into his pocket. “Go get your old man a Coke, and don’t be keeping any change.”

The hatred churns in your chest but you keep walking, certain that you’re about to get your revenge. You’re a marginally attractive person, and you’re here with a couple of meatheads who can squish pretty much anyone. There’s no risk involved, you can just unload, and that man… will… take it out on the kid. 

Simon gives you a puzzled expression when your face falls, as soon as you reach them. 

It’s useless. There’s not a single thing you can do for that boy. Any way you tear down his father would only result in him getting the punishment for it. 

You’re just as stuck as ever, helpless and stupid and no one important, same as you were as a child. You might as well still be that little girl, realizing that nothing you could ever do would make the adults in your life see you as human. 

All you are is taller now, with tits.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asks, as you push his pretzel over to him. 

“Um…”

They’re both concerned now. Dammit. 

Your gaze drops to the sparkly unicorn, its horn twinkling in the lights. 

“Johnny?” you prompt, blinking at him while your form your thoughts. 

“Hmm?” 

You rest your hand on the head of his unicorn, tugging at the ear. “Can I have this? For keeps? Will you give it to me?”

He blinks rapidly in surprise, glancing down at his prized plushie. “Yeah, alright. Sure.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop both animals up into your arms and head straight for the boy’s table. 

“Excuse me,” you chirp, giving that disgusting man your most sunshiny smile. “I got these prizes here, and I just can’t take them home. They won’t fit in my car. Would you like to have these?” You turn your eyes on the boy for the last question, hopeful. 

He doesn’t look at your face, just darts his eyes to his dad, and then to the unicorn. 

“Tryin’ to run a hustle?” The man asks suspiciously.

“Nope, they’re free! Just hoping you could help me out.”

The boy glances over at Simon and Johnny, and the man says, “Aww, why not. We’ll take the brown one, don’t need no girl stuff.”

“Oh, come on,” you practically flirt, setting both animals on the bench. “Can’t you take both? I’d really appreciate it.”

Yeah, you’re laying on the charm for the old guy. You’re crooking your shoulder up and smiling a little saucy, and you don’t even feel bad about it. You have tits now. 

“Well, alright,” he allows, seeming pleased to have you begging him. 

“Thank you so much.” You finally bend down a little towards the boy, who hasn’t looked at you at all. His brown eyes lift hesitantly to yours. 

“I’m very happy,” you tell him honestly, “that these guys got to go to someone really special.”

You leave before anyone can change their mind. You just turn right around and prepare to explain why you just Robin Hooded Johnny’s special—

Smack, slosh.

Instead of the clear path back that you thought you had, you run right into someone’s body, and frigid wet instantly coats your thighs.

“I’m so sorry!” the girl gasps, as you both stare down at your legs, completely saturated in some cold, fizzy drink. 

“I— it was my fault,” you stammer, brushing droplets off the bottom of your coat. “I’m sorry.”

You’re so frozen in shock that it’s not until Simon materializes next to you that you even think to move away from the puddle. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, “let’s get you home.”

What? Home? 

A breeze runs through the place then, and you shivery violently at how frigid it feels when your leggings are soaked. You do have to go home. That’s the only option. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell Johnny, when Simon’s hand on your elbow urges you to start walking. “I didn’t mean to… for it to be like this.”

“Ehh, it’s alright.” He offers you one of the pretzels he’s carrying. “There’ll be other times.”

No, there won’t. You had this one opportunity to prove to him that you should be in his life, and instead of doing what you needed to do to secure that, you were awkward and you stole his unicorn and you made everyone leave early. This was a disaster.

Fuck, don’t cry. You cannot cry right now. 

You stop up your tear ducts through sheer stubbornness, numbly traversing the park and passing all the things you never got to do. 

You’re a ruiner, you didn’t even get to talk with Simon tonight, just made him stand around everywhere you went and not have any fun. 

Don’t cry. 

By the time you make it back to your car, the only thing keeping the tears at bay is the surface tension on your eyeballs. You’be got patches of frostbite on the front of each thigh, and even your hair feels a little sticky from stray droplets of soda. It’s the most you can do to just mutter an excuse to Simon, and escape into the back seat of your car to strip off your leggings. 

As soon as you’re alone in that quiet, frozen car, the tears come. Silently they stream down your face, bringing with them the rising tide of your own inadequacy. The guys’ voices are a low hum from somewhere outside while you yank your shoelaces undone and fail to come up with a single glimmer of hope. 

There’s nothing you can do. You did your best, and it wasn’t enough. 

One shoe off, you’re forced to stifle a sob with your hands, as you come to the painful realization that you have to say goodbye to Johnny. Not just tonight, but in your heart. You’ve been clinging to that control, the idea that if you just perform everything perfectly, you can decide the outcome of the relationship. 

But that’s false, you know it now. No amount of flawless behavior will make him love you, if it’s not meant to be. 

The side door opens before you've managed to make progress on the second shoe, the task of removing your leggings now utterly cast to the side with the flood of emotion. 

You already know it’s Johnny, even before he scoots himself into the backseat with you and wraps you up in his warm arms. Somehow you can tell even without looking, but you know it for sure when you bury your wet face into his shoulder and get a lungful of his scent. 

“I missed you,” he says.

Next Part

Dividers by the-aesthetics-shop

MASTERLIST

Welcome to the chaos corner of my brain. Here's where you'll find all my writing, from filthy one-shots to soft moments (and everything in between). I mostly write for:

Jason Todd (my emotional support menace)

Dick Grayson (the human embodiment of sunshine and sin)

Jujutsu Kaisen (because they're hot af)

Jason Todd Fics

Shameless

Wrecked

Frenzy

Glass

Devotion

Haze

Crave

Dick Grayson fics

Anniversary

Night Ride

Fractured

Dinner

Heatwave

Starved

Snack Heist

Devour

Late

Jujutsu Kaisen fics

Birthday Gift

After Hours

Rough Day

Tailored

Some of my longer fics live over on AO3, so if you're in the mood for more, you can find them below:

Jujutsu Kaisen fics

Legal Affairs (ongoing)

His Possession (ongoing)

Ecstasy (ongoing)

Tied (finished)

Barely dressed, fully stressed (finished)

Lost and Found (finished)

Skybound (finished)

Halloween Hotties: Ghostface Edition (finished)

Birthday Bash (finished)

Burning Desires (finished)

Psycho-pass fic

Crossing Lines (finished)

Chainsaw Man fic

Lunch Break (finished)

Dick Grayson fic

Fluff and Feels (ongoing)

Requests: My ask box is always open if you wanna drop a request or an idea! Just know I can't promise I'll always get to them, but I appreciate every single one. Also, I don't write anything extreme, non-con, underage, or anything that makes me uncomfy. Just good old-fashioned horniness with a sprinkle of feelings 💚