.................................................................................................OOOOOOOOHHHHHH FFFUUUCCCKKK!!!!!!!!! Pray for me guys 😭😭😭😭😭😭
I'm free from school... Break..! I finally whisper.. as I'm dragged to a one-month trip.... // Again,, mohawk and lensless very inspired by louisdoner69 on twt :happy:
↬ warnings: some suggestive implications in drivers section, but nothing beyond that. reader is written to be wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt at one point, but no other descriptors are used
↬ notes: this was my first request, and i got so excited i finished it in nearly a day lol. everybody clap and cheer yayyy
𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬
• two words: surf. lessons.
• remember the part of the fall guy where colt was talking about learning to surf? oh yeah. you can't give a man like that frosted tips and a house by the beach and not expect him to pick up a wave or two.
• colt is no professional surfer, sure, but he would go as far to call it a hobby. he's got a surfboard that he takes good care of, and a multitude of youtube tutorials bouncing around in his brain. along with plenty of mistakes to learn from. if anything, colts just glad he got to showcase his surfing skills to you after he got the hang of it. sure, taking falls is literally what he does for a living, but that doesn't mean he wants to wipe out in front of the person he's trying to impress.
"come on, you've almost got it!"
colt's cheering is doing little to help, and plenty to distract you. it's not his fault, really. between the harsh rocking of the waves and his intense gaze— seriously, he had the blues fucking eyes you'd ever seen —it was getting increasingly harder to stay upright.
it had been just windy enough for some mellow action on the board, but unfortunately, that meant colt had insisted on teaching you today of all days. the one comfort you had was that colt had chosen a secluded enough of a beach to spare you from any judgemental onlookers. perks of traveling all over the world to shoot stunts for movie, you supposed.
you try to remember what he told you, really, you do, ("bend your knees, ride the waves and try to relax!") but before you know it, youre tripping over what seems like air, and diving headfirst into colt's exposed chest.
"fuck!"
you both go under for a second, bubbles and sand kicking up a storm underneath the water. it only takes a moment for colt to resurface. there, he's met with the sight of your completely mortified face. whether that was from the embarassment of the fall or landing face first in his pecs, he wasn't sure. part of him sincerely hoped it was the latter
"we may have to come to terms with the fact ive been cursed to have absolutely zero coordination since birth, colt." you waste no time trying to distract from your humiliating mistake, groaning as you splash a nearby bubble in frustration. he can't help but laugh at that, abruptly clearing his throat and looking away as you shoot him a look.
"i don't know about that—"
"we have been out here for an hour and ive barely managed to catch a single wave." you deadpan at him. colt scratches the back of his neck, feeling a bit of skin peel off. shit, he'd forgotten sunscreen. oh well, that's what the bottle of alo vera in his truck was for.
"hey, at least you can stand up on the board now! it took me forever to get that right!"
"some part of me doesnt believe that." your unyielding gaze feels like its boreing a hole in colts forehead. a nearby wave bumps the surfboard into his side, and he grabs onto it before it can float away. you send it a scathing look like it has personally offended your family bloodline, and colt has to choke down another laugh.
"okay, maybe it only took me a few minutes but—"
"see!! i'm hopeless, and you know it. i'm like a, a uh—" youre guestiring around wildly, trying to settle on an appropriate metaphor for the situation "—fucking baby giraffe out here!"
"a cute baby giraffe."
"not helping colt!"
• even if youre not the most talented at surfing (or a complete whizz, who knows, practice makes perfect) colt still loves hanging out and playing around on the beach. volleyball, catch, seeing who can push who into the bigger wave, all that kinds of stuff. not only is it a chance to spend time around you, but he gets to try and impress you all the while. colt's not shy about liking the attention— if anything, he'll only encourage it. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind one bit.
• he's also definitely the kind of sap to write your names together in the sand, just to pout when a wave comes in and washes it away. it's the little things like that that make him so charming in your eyes.
• he adores ending the night in the bed of his truck along the beach, wrapping his arms around you while you both watch the nearby fire crackle and spark with life. a cozy blanket that you had bought for him a little bit ago is often drapped around your shoulders, sheilding you from the cold and providing cover for a few playful kisses. he loves it when he has to duck under the cover to chase after you with a little laugh, bumping his nose against your affectionately.
𝐑𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞
• ryland grace has a special relationship with the beach. it's not just somewhere to go and walk around— for him, it's a way to ground himself. to feel the waves lap against his feet as he settles in the sand, watching birds fly overhead and listening to attempts of nearby vendors to sell their food. ocassionaly, he'll find himself a returning customer, exchanging some crumpled ones in order to enjoy an ice cream on the sand with you.
• the calm evenings where the two of you simply sit and talk about everything and nothing at the same time are his favorites. between you and the beach, it's like having two of his safe spaces rolled into one. and it gives him an excuse to admire you as the sun bathes your face in rays of light, emphasizing each and every quality that he's come to love about you.
• of course, if you ever catch on to his staring he'll deny it vehemently, but that doesn't change the fact that he's positively enamored with you. the slope of your nose, the way your hair falls, how you laugh— everything. if there was a subset of science dedicated to observing and fawning over you, ryland would be the lead researcher
"are you even listening to me?" ryland's head is plucked from the clouds at the sound of your voice. he blinks once, then twice, eyes sheepishly meeting your twinkling gaze as ryland chuckles.
"...sorry, i got distracted." the edges of his cheekbones are smattered with a coloring of pink, he can feel it. the last thing he remembered was you going on about the last chapter of a book you read before he'd gotten lost admiring the curve of your lips. "in my defense, you can be very distracting."
"mhmm." your tone isn't displeased. rather, you seem amused. no, no that's not the right word. ryland thought with a shake of his head. more like adoring.
the very thought made his heart race. sometimes, with the way ryland acted, you would think that he was meeting you for the first time.. not taking you back to his special spot in the sand for what must have been the third time this week alone. what can he say, with the warm weather and the promise of school staring again soon, late summer months always left him in a good mood. especially if you happened to be by his side.
"sometimes i wonder how you get anything done around me." you poke a finger at his chest playfully, laughing as he jumps a little bit. "if it's any comfort, you're pretty distracting yourself, ry." you reach out to run the pad of your thumb along the junction between his ear and jaw, smiling softly when he sputters.
"okay, well, now you're just doing this on purpose." he accuses you without any real conviction, his voice a slight octave higher than usual. you would say later that he whined— per usual, ryland would refuse to comment.
"not my fault that you look so good in the sunset like this." you murmer, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. he sighs, the heat in his cheeks spreading down his neck at the sight of you. you weren't lying, either. golden hour had just started a few minutes ago, and the cool toned yellows and oranges only highlighted the angle of his jaw even more. it turned the blond hair that you were so find of running your hands through into tresses of gold.
"want to stay for a bit more then get out of here?" you suggest after pulling back. "i know you've got to head to school tommorrow to set up the classroom some, wouldnt want you to miss out on the opportunity to get a headstart at being the cool teacher."
ryland smiles warmly at you, grabbing your hand and tugging softly. "sure."
he scoots over in the sand some, saddling his torso up to yours even more. you waste no time leaning your head in the crook of his neck, the both of you watching as small waves clashed against each other along the shore. it was a familair motion, like two puzzle pieces snapping together at last. a feeling that the two of you were more than acquainted with by now.
• of course, the microbiologist doesnt just like to sit and talk. he also enjoys getting out there and splashing around a bit! he works with middle schoolers after all— ryland's no slack when it comes to playing outside, even at his age. besides, he'd be a fool not to take an opertunity to sneak glances at you in your swim shorts and t-shirt. upon noticing you doing the same, (albeit more obviously, and with a cheeky grin) he likes to blame his red face on the sun.
• and speaking of the sun, ryland likes to make a habit of covering you in sunscreen before laying down the towels. as a scientist, he knows all too well the side effects that UV rays can have on humans, and when it comes to you he's taking no chances. somehow that turns into a game too— seeing who can guess the patterns drawn on each other's back with sunscreen. never a dull moment between the two of you.
𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫
• find an empty strip of the beach, and the two of you will be driving along that thing for hours.
• driver postively loves the thrill of speading down the sand with the windows down, salty seabreeze whipping his hair around as you stick a hand out the window and smile. he gets to combine the adernaline of putting the pedal to the metal while having you along for the ride— the perfect afternoon, in his eyes. and it doesnt won't even matter if you get sand in the car. he probably stole it anyways.
• he won't do anything too dangerous if the sand is loose, but on the off chance that it has enough traction, you can get him to do some doughnuts.
• while he's not much for swimming himself, driver will lean against the car with a towel for as long as you want. he's always been more of an observer in the grand scheme of things, and that extends to you. especially you. if that just so happens to mean watching from afar as you dissapear amongst the waves, cracking a slight smile every time you attempt to coax him into the water, then so be it.
• kissing each other on the beach for hours??? yes please. we all know driver is a sucker for taking his time with you, and that extends to the top of a sand dune on the beach, the two of you gazing at the night sky and sharing soft kisses inbetween. its the quiet moments with you that he lives for. its a stark contrast to the action in his line of work. a small paradise in the shape of, well, you.
driver is silent. that doesn't come as a surprise to you— when was he not? it was one of the things that had drawn you to him at first.. with the embroidered jacket and hard set stare of his, you had expected him to be bold. outspoken. maybe even a bit brash (which was the case, just not in the way you'd originally thought). instead, you had been pleasantly surprised by his habit to listen, rather than talk. not many people have that quality nowadays, and its like a breath of fresh air.
"nice swim shorts." you're teasing him again and he knows it. it's impressive, really, how you manage to banter with him like that while practically sopping wet and dripping onto the sand below. even more impressive that you look that good doing it.
drivers lips twitch slightly as you toss a faux judgemental glace at his jeans. alright, half-faux. some part of you was wondering why he chose to wear jeans again.. they were always so hard to clean the sand off of, if the small pile of sand by his apartment door was anything to go by. he always managed to track a little home.
"you really should let me pick out a swimsuit for you. i think that would be fun." you smile as you talk, already imagining the possibilities. would he let you get something patterened? striped? maybe somewhere out there a pair of scorpion embroidered swin shorts sat just waiting to be put on. yeah, he'd like that. it would match his jacket and everything.
driver simply admires you while you ponder aloud, eventually moving on from swimwear to what the rest of the night could hold. he waits as you cycle through a mental list, ("a dinner at that nice place that stays open late, walking on the beach, heading down to the pier, although that may be closed by now.. really whatever you want—") handing you a beach towel in the meanwhile. you don't even pause, voice growing slightly muffled as you run it through your hair. you're positively oblivious to the intensity of his stare.
the moonlight softens your features, showcasing the smattering of goosebumps along your skin. driver had known that it was too late in the year to go nightswimming comfortably, but you'd waved him off earlier, claiming that a little bit of cold never hurt anyone. he resists the urge to drape his jacket over your shoulders— you'd only fret about ruining it. best to get you dry and out of the night instead.
"how about we go for a drive." he finally offers, gently pulling you in by your hips. you were only halfway done drying off, but driver doesnt seem to mind getting a little damp as long as youre the one pressed up against him. if anything, he takes pride in the excited laugh that bubbles from your throat at his move.
"at this point i'm not sure why we come here for anything else." the skin around your nose scrunches up as you grin. "come on then. let me towel off some more and then we can get going."
you attempt to take a step back, but his grip is unyielding. not harsh, nor bruising, just firm. sure of himself, almost.
"i don't mind if the seat gets wet." he whispers, breath light against the shell of your ear as he leans towards you. his fingers are ghosting along the skin of your hips, tracing small circles and.. a heart or two, you think. it's hard to tell if you were making that one up or not.
you squint at him suspiciously.
"...and may i ask where exactly we're going on this drive?"
driver doesnt say much, but with that coy smile of his, he doesn't have to. "just somewhere quiet. beautiful. dark."
you feel a heat rapidly spreading from your neck to the tops of your ears, as well as a few other places. it seems like driver notices as well, the small twitch of his lips turning into a full blown smile. a rare ocassion, and you'd be damned to not take advantage of it.
placing a quick peck to his pink lips, you're suddenly bounding over to the passengers side of the car as if he would change his mind before you got there. driver twirls the car keys in his hand as you do so, already thrumming with anticipation. he wonders if you feel the same way.
"well? we getting out of here or what?" you're the one grinning at him now, eyes brimming with an emotion hes seen on you a hundred times. it never gets old.
with a quick click to the key fob, the doors unlock, and you allow him to whisk you away once more.
Imagine Grace defined his name as the elegance definition of grace and Rocky spends years thinking how fucking ironic this clumsy leaky space blobs name is.
Until Grace slips out a sentence along the lines of "could you give me a little grace here" and Rocky immediately points out he used a word wrong so Grace has to explain that yeah, grace means elegance but it can also mean mercy sometimes too.
And Rocky has to suddenly reconcile that the clumsy leaky blob that saved his life twice, that almost certainly doomed himself to come back for him, name is Mercy.
pairing: tim drake x gn! demon! reader (not meant to be romantic but tim's kinda a freak)
Tim thought the figure standing on the edge of his bed when he was awake but couldn't move was merely just some sleep paralysis demon...
Now it's following him everywhere, and it makes him look insane. More than he already was.
cw: no use of y/n / use of [NAME] once, but only as a suggestion / use of they/it/you pronouns for the reader
a/n: idk where im going with this heh smirks / I was thinking of Calne Ca while making this... I love you Calne Ca... You'll always be famous... / trying to get back to writing on here guys ignore my mid ass writing skill / no proofreading we just DIE
He was... bewildered? Is that the right word?
No, maybe not. He's not that surprised, he's just... appalled? No, but it's really nothing scary. He's definitely intrigued and confused, though.
Tim Drake has been plagued with nightmares and restless nights ever since he can remember. Among them, sleep paralysis is one of his many reasons for never getting a peaceful sleep. Not that common, but not sparse enough to be too rare either.
And it seems he's gotten a sleep paralysis demon as a companion every time.
A tall figure in the dark, lithe and lanky. They sometimes stand on the very far edge of his bed, sometimes in the corner of his room, always obscured in darkness. They've always been but an almost invisible silhouette in his eyes. It made him wonder sometimes whether they were real or simply something his mind created to keep him company.
He didn't know why he was thinking about that. He knew it was the latter.
... Or, he thought he knew.
Because then, it started moving.
It truly freaked Tim out the first time, when the figure in the corner of his room took one step closer. It sets out all of the alarms that he could've possibly had.
What the fuck? What the fuck? Why is it moving? Is that an actual demon, or an intruder? What kind of intruder is taller than six feet? What the fuck is that?
The first time, it only took one step before it disappeared and he could finally shot up from his bed in pure panic.
The second time, two steps.
The third time, it was already beside Tim's bed.
Right beside his head, just standing there. Tim, for the first time ever, could not move his eyes either. He could only see its silhouette on the periphery of his vision. Unmoving, and definitely looking down at him.
The fourth time, it's on the far edge of his bed again. Just like always.
But then, he could move.
And the figure didn't go away.
That was... an interesting night for sure. Tim panicked at first, then calmed down, immediately went back to his intrigued detective mode, tried to touch the figure, freaked out when his fingers felt so cold he couldn't feel them, tried to throw his bedside lamp at it as an "experiment", only to not put even a scratch on it and to only end up shattering his lamp to pieces.
The figure honestly makes him feel kind of dreadful at first when it wouldn't stop following him. Not openly, but always in the shadows. Tim could look back, and he's guaranteed to see an ominous tall figure standing in the dark... Ominously...
That is definitely a demon, but a super weird one. It hasn't even spoken to him yet, or even made a noise. It just seems to exist in Tim's vicinity.
Wow, maybe he is schizophrenic, after all.
Then, eventually, after some time, the figure started... moving out of the shadows.
The first time, Tim saw them standing somewhere still in the dark, but only its top half was obscured in darkness. He could see their legs. It was the first time he could literally make sense of any of their "body" parts.
They slowly began to ease itself out of obscurity.
Tim thought he'd slowly but eventually get to see their face, but no.
One day, the demon (honestly, Tim still isn't sure about that. It could literally be anything.) was fully out of the dark, and right behind him. Bent down just enough for their face to be at his eye level.
Tim looked back and screamed like a little bitch when that happened. Dick came running, worried, but Tim had learned literally no one else could see his little (not physically) demon companion, so he had to find some shitty excuse to brush it off. Even when Dick is staring at him suspiciously.
The demon is... tall. Some parts of it are... pretty human, but Tim was wrong. It wasn't fully thin and lanky. Some parts of them makes it look bulky, terrifying, but also lithe. What a paradox. It looks like it could be as fast as a bullet train and punch as hard as a Kryptonian.
Wow, that's kinda hot.
Was he weird for that? Is he? 'Cause he still thinks that. Maybe you just don't get him... That lower half of your face that doesn't have a jaw, but instead several finger-like, mechanical protrusions, and your long, sharp limbs that could stab him in easily, won't stop him from rubbing his hands together like a mischievous fly.
Okay! Okay, he's just a freak at heart. Shut the fuck up now.
"No, don't touch that."
Tim called out without taking his eyes off his laptop, like an owner who knew that their pet cat was about to tear the curtains down with a jump.
Your sharp limb—or finger, as your human friend would like to call it—was a hair away from a random can of drink before you pull away without a word.
Others may not be able to see you—or, rather, you won't let them see you—but you definitely have real effects on the world. Tim has learned that first-hand after you destroyed a random fire hydrant with a flick. Why did you even do that? He'd never know.
You let out a sound. Something inhuman, a mix of animalistic guttural and mechanical.
"Stop sulking, I just don't want you to accidentally explode the can and spill energy drink everywhere. Again."
He sighed, and you let out a more dramatic 'huff.'
Tim could hear someone walking behind him, footsteps heavy with all their 200 pounds plus full-body gears put into each step.
It stopped right behind him, and a voice spoke from the entrance to the overly big living room—
"Who the fuck are you talking to?"
Jason's familiar gruff voice asked, laced with confusion, his words slightly muffled. He's definitely chewing on shit from the kitchen that definitely wasn't meant for him.
"Nothing," Tim answered, voice tired and nonchalant. He could practically see the look of suspicion on Jason's face, but obviously, the older didn't have enough shit to give so he walked away.
Tim sighed, again, before his inner radar started pinging, again.
He could hear your heavy footsteps, practically stomping, as you slowly made your way to the kitchen. He immediately jumped up from the couch to follow you.
You're not a child, not at all. It's just that... What if you accidentally punched the fridge in again—
"...Lad."
"What?"
Tim turned to look at the older man, dressed in his usual coat and dishevelled, dirty blonde hair. Why is John Constantine here, you may ask? Well, Tim is too tired to answer, so just know Gotham has been acting up again. Some magical bullshit, and Batman has called John over. Why not Zatanna, Tim wondered, but then again, he's too tired to question that verbally.
"Why is... it, with you?" John raised an eyebrow, having to look up at the tall figure standing on the other side of Tim.
Tim had to raise his eyebrows, too, with that one. He's not used to people pointing you out, since he's so used to people being unable to see this beast of a demon. But then again, he's not surprised. It's John Constantine, after all.
...He should really think of a name for you instead of just calling you, well, "you" or "it". Does [NAME] sound okay? He'll think about it later.
"Oh... Yeah. Don't mind them. They're just here."
Tim brushed it off, and John was appalled by how nonchalant the younger boy was. This means that thing is not related to whatever demonic magical thing is happening in Gotham right now, because it seems that it has been with Tim for far longer.
... Damn, how does he tell Tim that he got a demon lord, who John has made a contract with once before, following him around?
I really miss writing… I think I’m going to try and get out of my hiatus and start writing again.
I kind of fell out of writing and posting on here specifically since the start of this year. I’ve never stopped actually writing, of course, I just only write short stories for myself and my friends in private.
I missed being on here, and I realized in order to get back, I should stop focusing on finishing the long stories I already have in my draft on Tumblr and start writing short blurbs and idea instead. I’m the kind of person who easily gets bored of stuff, and long stories take a lot out of me.
So I will be coming back!! Not taking requests rn, but do expect some short ideas and blurbs soon!!!
Despite my requests still being closed, but don’t be afraid to come into my inbox and talk with me or give me ideas… I miss u guys sm ;;
I should make a 1.4k special… oml where did u guys come from