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clovrtree · 2 months

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Wayne Manor was much grander on the outside than it was on the inside. Sure, the long sloping archways and winding grand staircases grabbed his attention, but otherwise it felt… normal? It was very lived in despite being spotless.

Alfred walked with a confidence from someone who has lived here for many years, and Peter didn’t doubt that fact. Karen had informed him moments ago about how Alfred took Bruce Wayne under his wing after his parents had died. They were like father and son.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your morning, Mr. Pennyworth.” Peter apologized for the umpteenth time, shoulders sagging as he curled slightly in on himself.

“You are not a bother, young Peter.” Alfred assured with a smile in his voice. The man led the teen all the way through the bottom floor, where they ended up in a large kitchen that was surprisingly modern. It must have been redone within the last few years. “Do you have a tea preference?” he asked, gesturing for Peter to sit at the long island counter.

He obeyed the gentle command and slid onto a stool. His feet no longer touched the ground, so he crossed his ankles and rested them on one of the leg bars. “No, sir. I’ve never really had tea that wasn’t iced.”

Alfred hummed in slight displeasure. Clearly the British man had his qualms about the correct temperature of tea, but he couldn’t blame Peter! They were in America, where iced, sweet tea dominated most people’s tastes.

“Well then, we’ll go with a staple. Does Earl Grey sound alright with you?” He asked while setting a kettle of water to boil, pulling out a long box of tea bags with different colored tags, likely symbolizing different flavors.

Peter nodded in agreement with the choice, resting his head in his hand and looking around the kitchen. He had assumed that they would both be quiet while the water boiled, but he was wrong.

“So, young Peter, where is your family?”

The innocent question sent a wave of sadness over him. Either dead or dying in a place where I can’t help them, he thought absently.

“They aren’t here.” he decided to reply, figuring it was the easiest lie to get away with. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, just a half truth. He could get away with those easily.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you living with a friend, then?”

Oh, he thought that Peter had a place to stay. Peter frowned, unsure if he really wanted to tell this man that he was homeless. “..I’ve got a friend in the area.”

Also only a half truth, considering Karen was talking in his ear once more.

“Peter, Alfred Pennyworth is your best shot at getting help. The family that he works for could be very beneficial allies in your time here considering their wealth and social statuses.”

“...but I’m not living with any, no.” Peter confirmed after letting Karen’s words seep into his mind. She was right, as usual. He would need to learn to accept help sooner or later, and this man looked about two sentences away from offering Peter more assistance than just tea.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully, eyes flickering across the counter as he pondered to himself for a few moments. “...you are not from Gotham, are you?”

Peter shook his head, confirming Alfred’s suspicions. That sinking pit that was the teens stomach at the moment was starting to ease itself through their conversation. This was okay, this was fine, Alfred wouldn’t do anything bad to him.

“I see.” Alfred mumbled. “...young Peter, may I ask how long you have been alone?”

“Not long.” He answered truthfully. It had been less than 48 hours since Peter last saw anyone he recognized or knew. The last face he could remember was Tony’s, with an apology on his tongue.

“...I’d like to make a few calls, my boy. Could you wait here?” Alfred asked kindly with a smile, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Peter. He hadn’t even noticed that it had finished during their conversation, and he picked up the warm cup with both hands.

He nodded in agreement, giving the beverage a testy sip. Like he said, warm teas were never really his thing, but this Earl Grey stuff wasn’t so bad. It tasted old, but in a good way. Maybe vintage was a better word.

Alfred stepped out, leaving the teen alone in the large kitchen. Its tiles were a warm cream color, and the accent wall was charcoal brick masonry, a surprising contrast to the old wooden walls. Various pots, pans, and other handled dishes hung from the ceiling on a rack over the island, and just above that was one of the many overhead lights. They looked like miniature stage lights.

The appliances were all a sleek black, and had strange brand names that Peter didn’t recognize. He guessed Whirlpool didn’t exist here.

There was a big window on the far wall, showing a view of the backyard. He recognized the winding path as the one that he had used to find the dumpsters. On the other wall was a breakfast nook that jutted out in a half hexagon, housing a little table with comfortable looking wooden benches to be sat on.

Knowing this house, Peter could already tell that there were probably two or more dining rooms elsewhere. No rich man hosts parties in his breakfast nook.

“How are you feeling, Peter?”

He wanted to be mad at her for asking a question at this time, but then he realized that Alfred probably wasn’t paying attention to Peter at the moment. At least, not entirely. He was supposedly on the phone in the other room.

“...Strange. I’m trying to figure out what Mr. Pennyworth wants with me.” whispering surely couldn’t hurt.

“I think he just wants to help you, Peter. You’re an unaccompanied minor who is injured and homeless.”

“He works for a rich guy, he can’t be that generous.” he grumbled, glaring at the counter and sipping his tea. Tony be damned, the rich were never that easy to understand. There had to be some sort of goal with keeping Peter around.

“I was created for you by a rich man.”

“You’re different.”

“Different how?”

“You’re from Mr. Stark, I’ve never even seen this Bruce guy.”

“They sound very similar to me, Peter. Especially based on the information I’ve gathered on the internet.”

Peter scoffed, downing the rest of the tea and cringing at the way it burned in his throat. He should have let it finish cooling off, but Karen was really starting to frustrate him. The kitchen filled with silence once more.

Alfred entered a few minutes later, holding a cell phone up to his ear. He glanced over Peter, taking stock of the boy and giving a description.

“Sixteen year-old white male, dark brown hair with a white streak on the front–” “White streak?” “Yes, Master Bruce. It would do you well to have patience and let me finish my sentences.” Alfred rolled his eyes, and Peter smiled a little bit at the sass. They really did seem like a father and a son.

“Where did you say you were from, young Peter?”

“Queens.”

“From Queens, New York.” “And he was digging through our trash?” “Indeed, Master Bruce.” The silence that followed on the other end of the line told Peter that Bruce Wayne was thinking.

He was glad for his super hearing. Without it, he wouldn’t have been able to hear the entire conversation happening on the phone.

“I’ll be home before lunch. For now, set him up a room.” “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Peter paused, eyes widening a little bit. There was no hiding the fact that he heard Bruce. Alfred hung up the phone, and Peter was fast to start speaking.

“Did he say to set me up a room?” He asked, a bit nervous. He couldn’t possibly stay here, he already felt like he was intruding after being invited in for tea!

But if he did stay, he could figure out what that secret room was underneath the manor. It had been nagging at him since he got inside. He wanted to get into that study and find the staircase.

“If that is alright with you.” Alfred nodded in confirmation to Peter’s nervous question, an air of reassurance wafting off of him. “I promise you that Master Bruce is not as bad as certain news sources have made him out to be.” He smiled gently. “You are from New York, I have no doubt that you’ve heard a lifetime of insults about him.”

Peter just nodded hesitantly, not seeing a reason to break his interdimensional cover. He could figure out plenty about Bruce from Karen, like a mini crash-course. She would catch him up to speed on anything he would need.

“Master Damian, Master Tim, and Master Duke are all at school already, meaning that you’ll get to meet them later. For now, how does a shower sound?”

Peter couldn’t and didn’t try to hide the smile that slipped onto his lips. “..a smile sounds nice, Mr. Pennyworth.” Peter stood up, eager to get the feeling of Gotham’s Harbor off of his skin.

“I’m sure that I can find something to fit you in Master Tim’s room. Here, I shall lead you to a bathroom.”

The semi-tour that Peter got for the next ten minutes was overwhelming. Once again, they passed through many rooms on the first floor before arriving at the foyer, where Alfred led him up the grand staircase and down the left hall. Two turns and an archway later, Peter was standing in a large guest bedroom that was probably the size of his living room back with May.

“There is an en-suite bathroom that you can use. If you leave this door unlocked,” Alfred gestured to the main bedroom’s door. “Then I can leave you fresh clothes on the bed. Does that sound okay?”

Peter nodded, looking around the bedroom. As much as he wanted to fall into the queen bed and roll up in the soft looking blankets, he felt like he would tarnish the material with his current state. Showering would need to come first.

He flashed Alfred a smile and two thumbs up. “Sounds great, thank you Mr. Pennyworth.” he beamed, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door carefully, clicking the lock shut.

Unbeknownst to him, the moment the door shut, Alfred’s gentle smile faltered. He forgot to hide his super suit, I’ll need to look into potential amnesia symptoms.

Peter’s shower was plain and uneventful. He scrubbed his skin until it was pink with a loofah and gel body wash that was stocked bountifully in the shower caddy. He massaged his scalp and hair with both shampoo and conditioner too many times to count, relishing in the feeling of the warm water flowing down his back. The pressure was perfect.

He would have stayed in there forever, but steam was starting to fill the room. He didn’t want to waste any water either, even if he doubted that a water bill was any problem for billionaire Bruce Wayne. It was the thought that counted, after all.

He stepped out onto the fuzzy drip mat after twenty-ish minutes, wiggling his toes in contentment. He felt thoroughly clean, and the hot water had let his muscles relax wonderfully.

Unsure of what to do with his dumpster-clothes, he folded them carefully and left them on the counter. As for the Iron Spider suit, he frowned, more unsure. “..Karen, are you confined to the Iron Spider?”

“No, Peter. I can use a small sample of the nanobots creating the suit to make something more convenient to wear. Would you like that?”

Her voice came from a speaker near the neck of the Iron Spider, and he nodded. “Yeah, can you make anything?”

“Do you have a preference?”

He hesitated. Did he have a preference? It couldn’t be anything too substantial, since Alfred might notice that he didn’t have it before and assume that he stole it from the house. Then again, he still wanted to be able to hear Karen at all times…

“...can you make something that looks like a hearing aid?” he asked hesitantly. After a beat of silence, the nanobots that usually make up the mask of the Iron Spider sparked to life, crawling across the toilet seat and connecting together to make a small black and red earpiece that would wrap around his outer ear. When he picked it up and slipped it on, Karen’s voice spoke.

“Does this work for you, Peter?”

He wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror, turning his head enough to see the device in his ear. Peter smiled. “Yeah, it looks great, Karen. I can just say I had it in my pocket so that no one would steal it.”

“That makes sense, good thinking, Peter.”

He beamed at her praise, eyes flickering down to the rest of his body. He felt.. Different. He could have blamed it on the interdimensional travel, but upon further inspection, he realized that he was different. Was he older? He seemed fundamentally bigger, even if it was just by a miniscule amount.

The last time Peter measured his height, he was 5’7. Embarrassing for a kid his age, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Now, he stood at nearly six feet, having grown at least four inches. It surprised him. What didn’t surprise him was the fact that most of his wounds were either gone or mostly healed. The large gash in his side was just a mass of puffy pink raw scars, now.

He met his reflection’s eyes, and like in the library, they were green. That white streak in his hair had just become more prominent since he had washed, and was a snowy white. Its presence made him uncomfortable.

He forced his eyes to look away and wrapped the towel around his hips. He doubted that Alfred was waiting in the bedroom, but he would still rather not walk out naked in this house he didn’t know.

Peter stepped out into the bedroom and glanced around. After making sure that it was empty, and using his tingle to check for any cameras, he walked to the bed where a few sets of clothes were.

The first set was a pajama set with multiple golden W shapes on it. The logo looked vaguely familiar, and he thought that he could recall it from his research on the Justice League. It was long sleeved, with the base clothes being a deep navy blue.

The next set was a black pair of drawstring sweatpants with a plain white t-shirt and a green zip-up jacket. This one also had a logo on it- but of a circle being sandwiched by two horizontal lines.

The third and final set of clothes was a pair of blue denim jeans with holes in the knees covered by frayed white threads. Alongside it was a gray t-shirt for a band he had never heard of called Ashes on Sunday. This one got paired with a plain purple pullover sweater.

Peter mulled the options for much longer than he had to, his hair dripping onto the bedroom’s hardwood floors. The pajamas and sweatpants both seemed extremely comfortable, and he wasn’t sure if he was feeling jeans right now. But then again, he was likely about to meet a very wealthy family, and would want to make a good first impression.

In the end, his mind won over his heart, and he tugged on the provided black boxers and socks, followed by the jeans, t-shirt, and pullover. Everything was just a bit too small, but he wouldn’t be complaining. This was the cleanest he had felt in days. Being in space in the Iron Spider suit had made him sweat an awful lot.

Peter went back into the bathroom and grabbed the suit. Then he briefly searched the room to find a decent enough hiding spot for it. He couldn’t just leave it in plain sight- Spiderman didn’t exist here, so he couldn’t use the cosplay excuse that had worked far too many times back home.

He settled for tucking the Iron Spider underneath the bed, slipping it between the wooden slats that held up the mattress. It took a bit of wiggling and adjusting, but once he was done, no one would be able to see it by looking under the bed unless they looked at the mattress.

Satisfied, Peter walked out of the bedroom, quietly tugging the door shut. It was at that point that he realized that he didn’t know how to find Alfred. Maybe he was in the kitchen? How was he supposed to get there?

“Go through the archway at the far end of the hall and make two lefts.”

Peter sighed in relief through his nose, smiling. Thanks to Karen, he was able to make his way back to the kitchen in just under ten minutes. Even though Karen was giving him directions in his ear, he still needed to seem somewhat lost just in case Alfred found him wandering.

Speaking of, Alfred was not in the kitchen. Peter frowned, looking around the room. “....Karen, can you scan the house and find him?”

“One moment.”

Peter hummed a thanks, leaning against the counter. Being in a room meant for food made his stomach clench uncomfortably- he really should eat something soon. Ever since being bit, his appetite had changed drastically. He ate quite a lot now, and considering he hadn’t eaten since before Titan, Peter was overdue for quite a few meals and snacks.

“Alfred Pennyworth is located near the dumpsters in the backyard.”

“Oh.” he said out loud, only momentarily surprised by the answer. Alfred had never finished throwing away the trash. Now Peter felt bad, since he was intruding on this man’s time. This was his job, after all, and he hated to be in the way. “..I’ll just wait here, then.”

At first, it was easy. Peter kept himself occupied by asking Karen different things about this universe, its customs, and about Bruce Wayne. Every so often, he would ask for Alfred’s location, and upon confirming he was nowhere near the kitchen, he continued his vocal investigation.

Karen proved to be an extremely valuable resource for him at the moment. Since being connected to the library computer, she had found access to almost every private and non private server in the world. She couldn’t even do that back home, which proved to Peter that this universe was not as technologically advanced as his own. A silent thanks to Mr. Stark was tossed out, and he hoped that somewhere in the multiverse, the man felt his gratitude.

He learned that Bruce Wayne was not as sleazy as Peter had originally guessed. He had no public relationships, and almost all of his children were adopted orphans. The exceptions to that were Damian Wayne, who was his biological son, and Stephanie Brown, who lived permanently with her mother and visited Bruce occasionally.

Peter also learned about Batman. The vigilante had been on the scene for quite a few years, and seemed to cycle through sidekicks like they were plastic forks. His current one was a kid who held the Robin title. Batman’s preference for working with literal children was… concerning at best.

Working with a teen was one thing, but based on the descriptions that Karen gave, this Robin couldn’t be older than eleven, and even that felt like it was pushing it. This was also his fifth robin. The rest either retired or died.

Hearing about the second Robin’s death saddled Peter with an uncomfortable churn in his chest. Beaten to death and then exploded, and the man who did it was still around. Peter frowned when Karen told him that the Joker was still alive, and had recently broken out of Arkham Asylum.

Peter hoped that Tony would avenge him if anything ever happened. It’s not like Spiderman was Iron Man’s official sidekick, but there was a similar dynamic happening here. In fact, Peter hoped that Tony was working to avenge his death right now.

If the multiverse was merciful, it would let Tony get the revenge that he deserves and live a long happy life in the afterglow.

Everything else that Peter learned from the conversation was basic information about the world and its customs. Superhero identities were kept under a harsh lock and key, villains ran amok almost daily, and the supers tended to keep to themselves unless there was a dire emergency. The Justice League felt more like a club than a team. Meet occasionally, only work together when needed.

“Alfred Pennyworth is approaching the kitchen. Arrival in ten seconds.”

Peter frowned, but sat up straight and wiped the expression from his face with his hands. He really needed to change Karen’s alert settings, he needed more time to mentally prepare for this.

Alfred’s footsteps entered the kitchen ten seconds later, just as Karen predicted, and Peter looked over with an easy smile. “Hey, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Alfred smiled, looking a bit surprised to see Peter. He glanced over him, appraising the outfit and giving a very subtle nod of approval. Peter wasn’t sure if it was approval to him for his selection, or to himself for providing such a fashionable choice.

“Young Peter, I hadn’t realized you would be out so fast. My apologies. Was finding the kitchen easy?” he asked, tugging off his white gloves and setting them neatly on the counter so that he could wash his hands.

Peter shrugged. “I got a little lost, a lot of these hallways look the same.” he replied, glancing at the back of Alfred’s head.

The butler nodded in understanding, turning off the faucet with his elbow after a moment. “You sound just like the rest of Master Bruce’s children.” he chuckled softly, not seeing the look of panic on Peter’s face at that statement.

Peter acted like Bruce’s kids, and he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He didn’t want to get attached to these guys, and he didn’t want them to get attached either.

“How many kids live here?” Peter asked, evening out his voice as much as he could.

“Three, though he has seven. I’m sure you know that already, though.” Alfred hummed, opening the fridge and retrieving a few fresh vegetables.

Peter nodded absently, and after a few seconds, spoke up once more. “......whatcha makin?”

“I was going to prepare a brunch, I’m sure that you’re hungry.” Alfred replied, rinsing off bell peppers, green onions, and tomatoes in the sink. “Do you like omelets?” Peter could hear the man’s smile.

“Yeah, omelets are good. Have you ever had them with bacon?”

“I have, but we do not keep pork in the house. Master Bruce is Jewish.”

Peter nodded in understanding, not that Alfred could see. “That’s cool, I didn’t know that.”

Alfred used the knife and cutting board to slide the chopped bell pepper pieces into a small bowl, then he started on the rest of the produce. “We do have beef sausage that I could mix in if you were wanting meat. Would you like that?”

“...Yeah, if it’s not too much of a bother.” Getting protein into his system sounded heavenly right about now.

“Beef sausage omelets it is then, young Peter. How many shall I make you?”

“How many?”

“Yes, how many?”

Peter paused. He needed to say a normal number. No regular teenage boy would eat seven omelets in a day, even if he really wanted seven omelets. Alfred seemed to somehow understand his quiet dilemma, even if it was only slightly.

“Whatever you don’t finish, I can pack away to be reheated.” He assured, glancing over his shoulder to Peter.

The teen bit the inside of his cheek, and after a moment, nodded to him. “....uh, maybe seven? Or eight?”

Alfred paused, obviously not prepared for the answer. He nodded after a moment of collecting himself, making some sort of mental decision. “As you wish, young Peter. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Peter learned very quickly that Alfred’s cooking was a weapon. His control of flavor, texture, and quality truly made him an asset to the culinary community. All seven omelets were eaten within minutes of being served, and Peter found himself missing their delicious flavor, despite his semi-full stomach.

Now that Peter had bathed and eaten, he felt very content with himself. He could almost forget about the conversation that had happened earlier between Alfred and Bruce over the phone. He said almost, because the unmistakable sound of the Manor’s front door being open sounded softly in the kitchen.

Peter felt every muscle in his body tense up, and he crossed his arms uncomfortably in his chair. He was about to meet Bruce Wayne. The teen counted the footsteps until they paused in the threshold of the kitchen a few minutes later. Suddenly, Peter’s tingle spiked frantically, buzzing around the back of his neck and shoulders, making his spine itch. This man was dangerous.

Alfred turned from the sink where he had been cleaning up and smiled gently at the man a few feet behind Peter. “Ah, welcome home Master Bruce. This is Peter.”

A large man rounded the island and stood at the end, wearing a black suit pressed to perfection with a forest green tie tucked under the white collar. His hair was oily black, and only had a few stray grays on his hairline. His eyes were a deep blue, but they held a gentleness when they looked over peter.

Just like Alfred, Bruce was seeing a homeless teen with bruises painting his face. At least now he was clean and clothed.

“Peter, it’s nice to meet you.” Bruce smiled gently, extending a large hand. Peter shook it hesitantly, feeling suddenly small while sitting at the counter. He wanted to run and hide.

“You too, Mr. Wayne.” Peter replied quietly. He immediately noticed the way that Bruce assessed Peter with a few once-overs. It was similar to Natasha, or Steve. They were always telling him something or another about knowing your opponent before they knew you.

“Please, call me Bruce.” When Peter nodded, Bruce continued. “I hear you were knee-deep in my dumpsters when Alfred found you.” he joked, obviously trying to ease the tense teen.

Peter noticed and forced himself to relax his shoulders, nodding a bit and letting his smile loosen up. “...yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just figured that diving in the richer neighborhoods was safer than the city.. Plus, y’know, a more valuable yield and all.”

Bruce Wayne nodded, easing himself into a stool. “That makes a lot of sense, great observation, Peter.” he approved, much to Peter’s surprise. He hadn’t expected for this man to be critiquing his dumpster diving tactics. “What’s your last name, kid?”

“...Parker.” No harm in telling Bruce that. The man wouldn’t find anything if he paid off the police to give him records.

“Peter Parker, I like that. Where’s your family at, Peter?”

The teen bit the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the counter when Bruce asked about his family. The air in the kitchen became tense, and for a moment, Peter felt his vision get a little blurry.

“...not anywhere near here. My uh.. Uncle died a few years ago. I left my aunt to go on a foreign study with my mentor, and my mentor was…” he hesitated, trying to find the right word. “...is out of the country at the moment. I’m not sure where he went.”

The perfect half-truth.

Bruce seemed to mull over his answer, brows pinching together slightly. “...I see. Do you have any names we can potentially look up? Or a phone number?”

Peter sighed through his nose. “...May Parker-Jameson is my aunt. My mentor is Tony Stark.” he knew that both of those would yield no search results. He had already tried and failed.

“I appreciate your honesty, Peter.” Bruce smiled and reassured. “We’re gonna let you stay here for the time being, okay? We won’t call CPS.”

Peter frowned. That thought never even crossed his mind- of course someone would try calling CPS on this homeless teen! But not Bruce, apparently.

“Bruce Wayne has a tendency to take in homeless orphaned teens.”

Very informative, Karen, Thank you so much. Peter thought sarcastically. He had figured that out after learning more about Bruce’s kids. Peter just… didn’t want to be another one of this man’s charity cases.

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce and Alfred both shared a glance and a smile, and Bruce stood up. “I’m going to finish the rest of my workday from home, Alfred. Peter, if you need me, I’ll be in my study, okay? Though I’m sure that Alfred can help you with anything you may need.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, staying in his seat. He tracked the man as he crossed the room to the entry archway.

“The rest of the kids will be home this afternoon after school. I’ll go ahead and let them know in advance of your unexpected stay, that sound okay to you?” Bruce asked, already pulling his phone out.

“Sure.” the teen shrugged idly.

“Thanks, Peter.” Bruce smiled.

Batchat

Bruce ; We’ve got a situation at the Manor, everyone be ready to meet a new face when you get home.

Duke ; oh god don’t tell me you adopted another one

Tim ; Is seven not enough, old man?

Bruce ; I’m serious, boys.

Dick ; What’s their name?? :D

Bruce ; Peter Parker. I’m going to do some digging. I’d like to have everyone home this weekend so that we can all get a look at him.

Bruce ; That means Jason, too.

Dick Wayne added Jason Todd-Wayne to the Batchat.

Jason Todd-Wayne left the Batchat.

Bruce ; I’ll message him privately.

Dick ; :((( why is he so stubborn

Tim ; Because he’s your brother. B, what’s the situation?

Bruce ; Homeless teen from Queens. Alfred found him digging through the dumpster wearing destroyed clothes and a supersuit. He’s got signs of a Lazarus Pit being used.

Duke ; oh shit

Tim ; White hair, green eyes?

Bruce ; Yes.

#batman #spiderman #batman spiderman crossover #dc x marvel #dumpster diving for treasure #batman fanfiction #batfam #batfam plus peter parker #chapter two !!!

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cutelittleriot · 10 months

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More incorrect quotes and fun facts about my isekaied as sanemi idea

Sanemi doesn't like alcohol due to well his dad and he just didn't care for it in his past life the only thing he drank was a long Island ice tea mixed with coke and even then they jsut prefer regular coke so they don't bother drinking but if someone were to sneak in some alcohol his tolerance is very low.

If he got drunk he would just be babbling things in English.

Tengen sometimes spikes his drink when the hashiras go out to eat

Sanemi always knows due to his sensitive af taste buds so sometimes he jsut acts drunk so he can act like a gen z person and not have to worry

He doesn't get along with shinjuro for obvious reasons but does get along with senjuro.

Though he did make senjuro cry on accident becuase of his scary face. He did apologize to senjuro and rengoku and rengoku understands as sanemi has told him that children are often scared of his face

Sanemi and muichiro have had staring contests surprisingly the win rate is 50 50 each becuase of nemis autistic stare

Sanemi when he was a kid sung cluster by slipknot to his siblings (in English of course) he didn't tell them what it meant.

He has also taught that song to senjuro he has no regrets. He also taught him cooking by the book feat Lil John remix again no regrets he is a hilarious menace

He wants a pet like really bad he wants either a dog or a lizard probably either a bearded dragon or a leopard gecko. He might get one when muzan is dead if he isn't dead by that time.

For a dig breed he would either want a pitbull a boxer or a Caucasian Shepard dog as they are big af and were used to hunt bears and are sometimes used as guard dogs in prisons in Russia. He wants something scary but loveable.

One time tengen fell down some stairs. The other hashira have never seen sanemi laugh so hard before that he was crying and wasn't making any noises as he laughed. Sanemi could only think of the video of Peter falling down the stairs when he saw that as tengen was swearing as he feel down.

Sanemi is debating growing out his hair he likes it short as it doesn't get in the way of fighting but he might grow it out when muzan is dead as he did have long hair in his past life. He might also get a mohawk like genyas cause he thinks they are cool.

In their past life genya was the sole reason they love Mohawks.

In their past life they had alot of sanemi and genya merchandise along with some zenitsu rengoku akaza merchandise jsut some plushies and mini figs nothing big.

They had a sanemi plush army.

If sanemi were to ever become a demon by some random ass chance he would terrorize muzan like absolute crazy with pictures of nsfw yorrichi x muzan

He would even warm him "Bro I'm trying to save you some trauma don't look into my head"

1 minute later

Muzan:*is on the floor crying*

Sanemi:I warned ya

Sanemi can sing the entire 150 pokerap easily

He writes down major events jsut in case he frogets.. he writes them down in English in case someone sees

MORE INCORRECT QUOTES

Shinobu: What do we say when making bread?

Uzui, glumly: That's the dough rising.

Shinobu: And what do we NOT say?

Sanemi, sadly: That's the yeast fucking.

Sanemi: I've met a lot of pricks in my time, but you, muzan, are a fucking cactus.

Obanai: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Sansmi: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Obanai: ...

Obanai: You mean ring bearER, right?

Sanemi: ...

Obanai: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

Rengoku: You have an impressive pain tolerance.

Sanemi: Thanks, it's the trauma.

Giyuu: I feel like I can be myself around you.

Sanemi: You’re weird and quiet around me.

Giyuu: Yes.

Sanemi: You're ugly.

Giyuu: Tone indicator?

Sanemi: Oh I'm sorry! You're ugly. /srs

Giyuu: I’m Giyuu. I’m an accountant.

Sanemi: I’m Sanemi. I have a knife.

Giyuu: Sanemi, what are you doing?

Sanemi: *shaking a cat shaped piggy bank* I’m just trying to figure out how much change I have inside.

Obanai: You could always take it out and count it.

Sanemi: Where’s the fun in that?

Tanjiro: Help, someone at prom has been killed!

Sanemi: Calm down, we don't need you to Panic! At the Disco.

Sanemi: *shoves their hand in the slot of a toaster*

Obanai: …

Sanemi: …I get confused sometimes.

Obanai: Me too.

Sanemi: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Genya: You and me!

Sanemj: *tearing up* Ok.

Sanemi: I’m a reverse necromancer.

Rengoku: Isn’t that just killing people?

Sanemi: Ah, technically.

Sanemi: I have an idea.

Uzui: A good idea?

Sanemi: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Sanemi, grinning: I have a knife!

Obanai: Put it down, Sanemi.

Sanemi: Make me! *sprints away*

Inosuke: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules.

Sanemi: What?

Inosuke: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

Zenitsu: What happened to your nose?

Sanemi: I used it to break some guy's fist.

Sanemi: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

Sanemi: I don’t know the first thing about clothes. Pretty much all I can do is look at something and tell you if it’s clothes or not. This chair? Not clothes.

Sanemi, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way.

Sanemi taught him this one

Genya: You know, studies show that keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun.

Genya: That's why I own TEN guns.

Genya: Just in case some maniac tries to sneak in with a ladder.

Sanemi: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

Sanemi: Like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am I actually doing?

Sanemi: Well you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific. It was because shut up. Shut up is why.

Sanemi, opening a Capri Sun becuase they hate alcohol: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Sanemi: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces.

Sanemi: *waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro*

Sanemi:the only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable.....and assault with a deadly weapon

Sanemi: Here's two facts about me.

Sanemi: 1. I hate hot people.

Sanemi: 2. I'm a hypocrite.

Sanemi: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit.

Sanemi: A fistfight CAN be romantic.

Sanemi: Hello friends!

The hashira:

Sanemi: You might be wondering why I’m taped to the ceiling

Sanemi: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Shinobu, muichiro, gyomei: *spinning a little and talking*

Sanemi,uzui,and rengoku: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Mitsuri: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Uzui: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging.

Obanai: Waking up in the morning.

Sanemi: Waking up.

Shinobu: Waking up in the morning...

Shinobu: And seeing giyuu

Giyuu: Hey! Rude!!

Uzui: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Muichiro: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Obanai: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Shinobu: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Rengoku: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Sanemi: Throw a brick at someone to kill them.

Uzui: A mouse!

Shinobu, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Rengoku, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Mitsuri, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Muichiro, gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Sanemi: His name is Remi, dummy.

Uzui: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

Sanemi: I CAN'T DO IT!

Rengoku, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Sanemi: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Gebya: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Sanemi:

Sanemi: I appreciate it,

Sanemi: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Rengoku: sanemi

Sanemj: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Obanai: Sanemi we gotta-

Sanemi: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Sanemi: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Sanemi, motioning to kokushibo: NOT FUCKING THIS!

Muichiro: Look guys, I need help.

Mitsuri: Love help?

Rengoku: Financial help?

Gyomei: Emotional help?

Sanemi: Help moving a body?

*Everybody looks at sanemi*

Sanemi: What?

Ok so that's all for now and here is what I'm gonna do

I will allow a QnA yall post your questions I will wait a while and then I will post answers if there will be spoilers I will just say sorry spoilers

I will be taking questions from ao3 quotev and wattpad as that's where I post my stories

And I might start working on this story soon as soon as I'm done with another oneshot. It involves kaigaku and a demon queen oc I am writing it jsut for my own personal pleasure and no it's not nsfw or smut .

#sanemi #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #isekai #reincarnation #self insert

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disdaidal · 2 years

Note

*pops in for a hug* Billy gets drunk on Long Island iced tea (literally 4-6 different types of alcohol with multiple shots of each but it doesn’t even taste like it) and Steve has a super clingy drunk boyfriend.

Heyyy *hugs back*. ♥ You sent this to me a while ago, but I have been busy with other stuff aaaaand my attention span is super short as usual, sooo~ I hope you like this! 🍹

—

Billy Hargrove isn't usually the cocktail kind of guy.

Give him beer, whiskey - something manly.

Anything with a kick.

Cause cocktails are lame and only meant for chicks, right?

But over the course of few months that he and Steve have been going out, somehow the rich boy had slowly succeeded in corrupting Billy. As in making him acquire a taste for sweet drinks, too.

Perhaps once or twice, Billy has admitted aloud that sweet drinks aren't so bad after all. And that beer tastes like piss sometimes. Or that whiskey makes him gag just a little bit. That maybe he used to drink those things because all the cool guys did.

But tonight, he wants to try something completely different new and picks Long Island Iced Tea from the list.

It's a mixed alcoholic drink that even Steve hasn't tried before. Curiously the brunet takes a sip from Billy's drink, then proceeds to give a small nod and an appreciative hum, followed by a sweet smile. Then goes back to sipping his Blue Lagoon.

It's been a while since they'd last went to a bar like this (or well, any bar for that matter) and so it doesn't take long for Billy to decide what his new favorite alcoholic drink is. He gulps it down greedily while Steve's still halfway through finishing his own, and then orders another. And another.

After some time Steve's caring, nurturing nature takes place and he tells Billy to slow down. "Slow down, tiger. We've got all night." Albeit he's not very good at it because a) Billy's not known to listen let alone slow down and b) Steve's having a hard time to keep himself from grinning at his dorky, drunken boyfriend and his silly antics.

Even more when Billy suddenly sits on his lap while he's singing karaoke slightly out of tune. Or when he plasters himself hotly against Steve's back and hugs him from behind, like a human furnace, slurring sweet nothings in his ear.

And while Steve knows better than anyone that they should act more careful around here - it's a small town, people are gonna talk yadda yadda -, he can't help but keep smiling and grinning at Billy anyway.

He's having fun and Billy's having fun. Why should fun not be allowed?

Especially Billy who's usually ranting about keeping up the appearances; always going on about how they need to watch themselves and under no circumstances hold hands in public places or any of that queer shit.

And now Billy's the one breaking his number one (1) rule and doesn't even seem the least bit bothered by it.

Steve might've snorted just a little bit when Billy had flipped the bird at this older guy who kept staring at them with a disgusted look. Or when this one nice-looking blonde with a generous cleavage suddenly approaches Billy - which, Steve isn't going to lie, annoyed him. And then all Billy does is compliment her tits in her face and casually flings his arm around Steve's shoulders, planting a big wet one on his cheek. Then looks at the girl with an arched eyebrow, like he's asking 'well?', making the girl just grimace and mutter something under her breath as she leaves their table.

But then finally comes the time when Billy's becoming a bit too drunk and a bit too clingy for his own good (not that Steve really minds it, oh no), but for the curious eyes around them who are already eyeing at them suspiciously. It's like they're staring and asking 'they fags or what'.

So Steve clears his throat and pushes his empty glass forwards, getting up. He drapes his arm around his drunk boyfriend's shoulders and pulls him close, tells him they're leaving. The blonde whines in protest but is unable to resist a warm body pressed up against him - especially when it's Steve's body pressed up against him - so Billy finally nods and slides his arm around Steve's waist, leaning heavily against him as they walk. Whilst talking and slurring silly nonsense close to the other man's ear.

It makes Steve chuckle and he gives the bartender a slight wave of goodbye before they step outside and start walking towards his car. Billy is heavy and not very cooperative as Steve helps him in his car and buckles his seatbelt for him. Once he's inside and behind the wheel, he makes sure to lock the doors too, in case Billy gets any stupid ideas (he gets them often). Poor guy is so out of it, keeps moaning and whining that he doesn't want to go home yet, he's fine.

"Ssseriously Harrington... I'm... I'm not even drrrrunk..."

"Sure." Steve shakes his head and opens the glove compartment, fishing out the cassette that Billy always wants to listen to while they're driving. Trying to keep his dear drunken boyfriend distracted, who soon starts banging his head to the music and playing the air drummer. Or something like that.

Ten minutes later they have arrived at their destination, and Billy doesn't feel so good. The blond man half-runs into the nearest bushes and throws up. Once he's finished, he wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and can barely keep upright, so Steve catches him and helps him upstairs in his room.

He sits Billy on the bed and crouches in front of him, trying to strip him from those ridiculously tight jeans of his (again, Steve doesn't really mind cause Billy has a great ass).

"Awww H-Harrington... shoulda told me you wanted me n-naked... all you had to was just... ask.. let me-- lemme..."

And Billy really tries to shift and help Steve get those jeans off but ends up almost kicking Steve in the face. His tight bright tank top flies across the room while Steve folds Billy's jeans on the nearest chair. A minute or so later, Steve's also undressed and follows Billy into bed.

He's barely managed to shift into a comfortable position when Billy's strong toned arm is already hauling him closer, pulling him tight against the body that Steve loves to call furnace. And right now, the heat of their bodies combined is almost suffocating him but one of Billy's thick thighs is wrapping around his hips too, keeping him in place.

The drunken blonde instantly buries his face in the crook of Steve's neck, mumbling something incoherent against the soft sensitive skin. Something that Steve cannot quite catch but he doesn't think it's important either.

His long fingers find Billy's hair, buried deep in his curls and carefully massaging his scalp - something that always seems to calm Billy down. His lips pressed against Billy's forehead, closing his eyes.

"I love you."

It isn't the first time Steve's heard it coming from Billy's mouth.

Although he doesn't hear it often because Billy doesn't want to wear it out or it loses its meaning, or something like that.

And he only might say it right now because he's drunk off his ass, but.

Steve can't help it. That he feels his heart swell just a little bit. His chest constricting with deep emotions. There might be tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, too. Tears of joy, because he's happy.

It's been an eventful night. Lots of fun. With Billy being more affectionate and careless than usual.

Even though it's risky - here, in Hawkins.

Steve doesn't even mind right now that Billy hurled in the bushes not too long ago. That he smells like alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. That he's drunk like a skunk, like he's showered in a barrel of alcohol.

He just wants - needs - to hear it.

Wants to feel his touch, his closeness, the heat of his body.

Even if he already feels hot and almost uncomfortable there.

But Billy's there. He's real. And this is happening right now.

Steve bites back his tears and forces a small smile instead. Because his tears are from joy - not sadness -, and he gently rubs his fingertips against Billy's scalp. Pressing another loving kiss on his forehead.

"I love you too, dork. Get some sleep now."

Billy lets out the cutest, softest huff against Steve's neck before he slowly drifts into sleep. He isn't a snorer, thankfully, because Steve is a light sleeper. He slips his hand down from Billy's hair and wraps it loosely around his back, until he falls asleep too.

—

Next day Billy is a little bit pale in the face, with a messy hair and a blanket wrapped around his body to keep himself warm. But against Steve's expectations, Billy isn't staying in his bed all day, feeling sick and acting like a stung little bitch.

Billy actually takes a seat next to him on the couch and casually just drapes himself over Steve's crossed legs. Resting his messy head of hair on his lap.

They watch whatever dumb sitcom is coming on TV, and Steve's fingers are finding and petting Billy's hair again. He's not really paying attention to the show on TV; his mind too occupied and obsessed with Billy's presence.

That Billy still hasn't left and they're actually cuddling on his couch.

They might have been a thing for months now, but Billy usually really isn't this cuddly, carebear type of guy (or so he pretends), especially not after a night of drinking. Which is understandable.

But he usually isn't this cuddly even after a night of fucking, so.

Steve doesn't know what to think of it. Doesn't know if there's anything to think about. That maybe he should just focus on the moment and not worry too much because this probably just happened in the heat of the moment - because Billy's like that - and it's likely it won't happen again anytime soon. So he should just, relish in it or something. As long as he can.

Then Billy's breaking the silence. "Steve?"

Steve hums as response, distracted from his trance and looks down. He finds Billy's eyes are looking back up at him - curiously, searching. He's so beautiful. His eyes look tired and a little red, but so beautiful. Framed by long dark lashes. Freckles on his cheeks. Pink lips that look so kissable. And he looks so calm and content right there, resting on his lap. Steve's heart starts pounding a little bit faster again, his chest once again constricting with deep emotions.

He's hopelessly in love. And so screwed, he could cry.

Billy then takes a deep breath and wets his lips.

"Can I stay here for another night?"

#replies #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #my writing #sorry i can't write anything better than this #also i wrote this totally sleep-deprived and this text is probably littered with mistakes </3 #but i tried with this brightest idea in my mind #i'm not sure if i managed to convey it with my mind all over the place & sleepy eyes but #i tried lol #anyway hope you like it #it's been a while since i wrote anything like this #*

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remmammie · 2 years

Note

Hi there could I get a scenario where Sora takes care of a sick reader

Of course! I love sicky headcanons, they can be super cute! Hope you enjoy!

Sora taking care of a sick!s/o

Now, Sora has (for the majority) lived on a cluster of islands his entire life so illness - viruses, bacterial diseases, whatever - weren’t all that common! And, if they were, they passed through pretty quickly and no one got super ill. Sora always had his mom, Riku, and Kairi to help take care of him so he was always well taken care of! He was always pretty vulnerable to sickness…

However, this means that Sora’s never really been on the giving end of any kind of sick care. So, when he comes to wake you up in the morning, ready and raring for some adventure or another, he’s confused to find you still in bed (but awake!) breathing kinda heavily through your mouth with a blocked nose. Sora finds it funny at first, thinking you sound funny when you try talking with a stuffy nose! He might mimic you a little and hold his own nose and imitate your sleepy voice. Slowly, though, Sora starts to realise that your laughs are pretty muffled behind all that…gross stuff and he starts to get genuinely concerned.

He’s crouched by your bedside, as if begging with those big puppy eyes will make the big bad illness go away and you can both go on that world-hopping adventure he planned. Unfortunately, that’s not the case… You can say you’re sorry and it’s all your fault as much as you want, but Sora can’t help but be a little disappointed yet also extremely determined to make you better as fast as possible. Still, he’s not just aiming to rush you out of bed as soon as possible and he does really want to make you feel better - he hates seeing you like this (as cute as the stuffy voice and flushed cheeks might be.)

Sora’s knowledge of how to take care of sick people all comes from experience of what he’s had done to him. He can’t…really cook so don’t expect anything more than maybe toast or heated up soup from cans or the freezer. At least he’ll make it to your liking? He knows that a wet towel can help but doesn’t understand that the whole “towel” trick only helps fevers, and Sora absolutely does not know how to work or read a thermometer.

Running cold? Sora definitely sleeps with piles upon piles of blankets and stuffed animals and will happily donate them to you! If that doesn’t work, there’s always body heat, right? That is, if Sora knows you’re comfortable with him getting in bed beside you and giving you the good old “cuddle the sickness away” trick his mother used to use with him. You may have to stop him from catching whatever you have by physically pushing his face away from yours because that boy is determined to comfort you with kisses, I swear.

He’s not sure how to deal with you running hot, though. He just kind of thinks of how he used to keep cool on hot days on the island and whips up a quick, make-shift paper fan: he’ll sit there for hours if need be, as long as you’re comfortable and not sweating to death.

Sora knows from experience that you need to drink a lot when you’re sick - his mom used to make him tea and ice-cold water depending on what was wrong all the time! - so he’s always popping in and out of your room with new drinks to make sure you don’t get bored with the taste.

As for medicine…Sora’s…not sure what to get so you’ll have to help him, if you need medicine, that is. If anyone else is around, I’m sure they’ll be able to help him, but, if they aren’t, please tell him what colour the box is or what it says on the packet or he’ll end up coming back with, like, vitamin gummies.

In the end of it all, Sora’s just trying his very best to make sure you get better as soon as possible so 1) you can both go on that adventure you had planned together and 2) so you’re not in pain anymore. The effort he puts in is extremely endearing but it doesn’t always work the most efficiently.

And, yes, he also caught whatever you had because he just couldn’t stay away from you. Bless him, he’ll recover quickly enough out of sheer will power.

#kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom hearts headcanons #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kingdom hearts fanfic #sora x reader

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bnhabadass · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: N/A Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4.5k Synopsis: You're surprised when your best friend tells you she's dating pro hero Hawks. As you get to know him throughout his frequent visits to the tea shop you work at, your uncertain despisal of him may just turn into romance.

When your best friend told you that she was dating the number two hero you laughed in her face. “It’s true!” she pleaded. Her eyes gleamed against the hanging lights in your kitchen. She looked as if she were a lovestruck middle schooler doodling hearts and writing her initials in the margins of her notepad. But you knew her like the back of your hand and you were well aware of her habit of compulsive lying.

You spent the following week teasing her relentlessly for making up such an outlandish lie. Yui Nakamura, your best friend in the world. She was an up-and-coming actress who claimed that she was slowly taking Japan by storm.

“I guess I just caught the number two hero’s heart from my last film,” she told you. It was all she could talk about for a solid week, leaving you rolling your eyes and sticking your tongue out in a fake gagging motion every time his name was brought up.

It wasn’t until she brought him into your place of work that you finally realized she was telling the truth. The small jingle bells tied to the doorknob of the shop rang as you were crouched behind the counter, sorting loose tea leaves into their respective jars.

“This is my favorite place to get an iced tea in this hot weather,” her sickeningly sweet voice cooed.

Your ears perked up. Grabbing one of the jars of tea leaves, you stood up with a big smile on your face, ready to greet your friend. That smile, however, didn’t last long. Instead it was replaced with a punch in your gut and a ringing in your ears as you saw the person standing in front of you holding hands with your best friend was the number two hero in Japan.

You should have known something was off when the few people sitting in the leather chairs and at the counter looking out into the street had gone silent. Everyone’s jaws were slack in amazement at the hero before their eyes. A few people whispered about how much more handsome he looked up close or how they didn’t realize how vibrant his wings actually were.

The only person who didn’t look shocked or happy that he was there was the number two hero himself.

“(Y/n)!” Yui exclaimed. “How’ve you been?”

“Um, good,” you managed to choke out. Your eyes never left the winged hero.

“I see you’ve noticed my boyfriend,” she giggled. Her happy-go-lucky smile never left her face. It seemed as though her biggest wish had come true. It’s no secret that she had been pining after the hero for years, playing back footage of his rescues and showing them to you over and over again. She would always cover her eyes when watching his fights because she “couldn’t bare to see his beautiful face get hurt” and you would have to tell her when the scary parts were over.

“Hawks,” you spat out.

His golden eyes dug daggers into you. “Yes?” His tone was uninterested and very clearly bored. It left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I, um, well I, ya know, I didn’t–”

Yui cut off your stumbling with a fluttering laugh, the kind of laugh they romanticize in a shoujo manga. “(Y/n)-chan didn’t believe me when I told her you were my boyfriend,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Now come on, Hawky, what do you want?”

Hawks visibly cringed at the nickname she had given him. Hawky, like the sport but spelled like the bird. Even you could admit that it was pretty bad.

“I think I’ll have the iced hibiscus tea,” she said. Her hands fumbled for her wallet.

“I’ll take a small sencha.” You never expected the winged hero to drink tea. It seemed so unlike him. He seemed much more of a coffee kind of person, needing the extra energy to fulfill his hectic life.

“All right, your total is 540¥,” you said. As you brewed their tea, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on Hawks and the little things about him. Sure he was attractive, but was that really enough to satisfy your friend? He didn’t seem very interested in her as she tugged on his sleeve like a little kid clinging to their parents.

As you called their names with their orders in hand, you were surprised when neither of them went to grab their drinks. Instead, Hawks sent two of his feathers to grab them out of your hands. They were so delicate yet so strong.

Yui smiled as the feather fluttered around her before presenting her drink in front of her.

“Let’s go,” Hawks said, still with a look of boredom plastered to his face, but maybe there was more to him than you thought.

You got to know Hawks a little more during the next few months. It’s true that when you first met him he was not your cup of tea. He and Yui would come into the shop and as Yui chatted your ear off about all the sweet nothings he would tell her, Hawks always seemed to zone out or lose interest in the conversation relatively fast. From the outside it looked like he didn’t care about her and that made your blood boil. But there had to be more to it, right? You’re sure that Yui wouldn’t bother with someone who didn’t seem to care about her.

It was at the end of summer when Yui told you the exciting news. She was cast as a major role in a new film and would be flown to Yakushima Island for the shoot. As she told you the good news, her smile never faltered. It was as if all her dreams were coming true and the different pieces of her life were being put together like a puzzle.

“I’m really happy for you,” you said while pouring hot water over a tea bag with oolong in it. “I can’t wait to see the film when it’s released.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it too! It’s going to be rough being away from Hawky for so long but I think we’ll both manage.”

You turned around before she could see you rolling your eyes at the ludacris nickname. You’re not sure how it managed to stick throughout the months, and every time you hear the words pass her lips it triggers a shudder to run through you. “When do you leave?”

“Next week. You have no idea how excited I am, (Y/n).”

You were happy for her, you really were. Yet part of you felt like you were being left behind, stuck in the mud. While she had her handsome top pro hero of a boyfriend, you spent your nights alone and as she went off to chase her dreams of being one of the most famous actresses in Japan, you were still pouring hot water over tea leaves as you have been for the past two years. It didn’t seem fair, but you would never let her know that.

The next week went by quicker than you had hoped and Yui was off to the airport. She, of course, stopped by for one last cup of tea before she left.

Once she was gone the leaves began to change. Red, orange and yellow leaves fluttered through the air onto the ground and gusts of wind would push them across town, occasionally dropping them off in front of the tea shop’s door.

This time of year was always your favorite. The smell of cinnamon and spice floating through every tea, pastry and coffee shop always made you smile in delight. A new shipment of pumpkin tea had just arrived and you couldn’t resist ducking down to stick your nose in the box and smell the leaves through their packaging under the counter.

The homey smell ravished your senses. Your mind was instantly filled with wonderful fall memories. Jumping in piles of leaves as a kid, drinking hot tea by the window and watching the rain outside trickle down the gutter of your childhood home. Carving pumpkins and dressing up in inappropriate halloween costumes back in your college days. It all came back.

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

The all too familiar voice of Hawks startled you, and as you leapt up out of shock, you hit your head on the counter top. “Ow,” you croaked. Reaching for the fridge next to one of the display cases of teas, you grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and placed it on your head. “Hi.”

“Hello to you too.” There was a cocky grin on his face, unlike what you’ve seen of him before.

“Yui’s out of town.” Why was he here? There was no reason for him to be if his girlfriend was gone. Since he started showing up with Yui, the shop had gotten much more traction. More people had shown up asking when the pro hero was coming next or which seat he sat in. You were sick of it all.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t get a cup of my favorite tea from my favorite barista.” His cheeky smile grew and you beat yourself up for blushing at him compliment.

“What’ll it be then? A small sencha?” You grabbed one of the small to-go cups in preparation.

“Nah let’s switch it up a bit.” He eyed the list of teas up and down, ogling the glass containers with delicate tea bags placed inside. “What box were you sticking your nose in just now?”

You looked down at your feet in shame, cheeks heating up at the memory. You had hoped he would forget about what he just saw or at least wouldn’t mention it out of pity for you. “Pumpkin tea. It’s a new shipment that just came in.”

“Huh,” he pondered. “Is it good?”

Your head shot up. “Seriously? You’ve never had pumpkin tea before?”

“Nah the commission doesn’t really like it when I eat or drink things that aren’t in my diet.” He wove his hand through his blonde locks, pushing them back out of his face. “They’ve been a bit more chill about things since I started dating Nakamura, but I’m still on a pretty strict food regiment.”

The fact that he referred to your best friend by her last name almost made your heart ache. For how much she doted on him he barely seemed to care. “That sucks,” you said. “Do you want to try it?”

He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, let’s give it a whirl.”

You heated the water and poured it out in a hot stream over the tea bag. “Here you go. That’ll be 280¥.”

He slid the coins over to you and held the piping hot to-go cup up to his nose, breathing in the heat and letting it run through him. A soft smile overcame his features and he pressed the cup to his lips, letting the brew hit his tongue. His eyes shot open. “Wow. That’s incredible.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t it really good?”

“It is!” He smiled up at you and you couldn’t help but drink in every detail of it. It was a happy and relaxed smile, one that a child would give after tasting candy for the first time. His eyes grew brighter than the sun as the tea coated his taste buds and pulled him into euphoria.

“Um, excuse me?” a small voice croaked from behind Hawks.

He moved to the side, revealing a small young woman holding hands with a little boy. He was chewing on an action figure and as he pulled the head out of his mouth you could see the bright flames of Endeavor coated in a layer of thick saliva.

“Hey there,” Hawks said. “I’m sorry, do you need to order?”

“No no no!” The rosey cheeks of the young woman deepened as chills of embarrassment filled her. “My son here is a really big fan and, well, we were hoping we could get an autograph.”

You weren’t sure how something like this would play out. You’ve seen the stares and the hushed whispers people give when watching Hawks and Yui in the shop. They almost look too scared to approach him, yet this flustered woman came out of nowhere.

“Yeah of course!” Hawks’ cheeky smile widened. He squatted so he was eye level with the boy. “What’s your name, little guy?”

The kid slid behind his mother’s hip, unsure of what to do or say.

“I see you like Endeavor. You have good taste. He’s one of my favorite heroes too.”

You watched in awe, jaw slack as if you had been slapped in the face, as you watched Hawks laugh and ruffle the kid’s hair. He signed a notebook that the kid’s mother gave him and just as he was about to say goodbye, the kid shot his arms up in Hawks’ direction. You could feel yourself melt on the spot as he picked up the giggling boy, spinning him around. It was so unlike him to do that, but at the same time it was everything you had ever imagined in the stories that Yui would tell.

That was the first time that you realized you were beginning to fall for your best friend’s boyfriend, and after that nothing would be the same.

Hawks came in and out of the shop more and more frequently, only now ordering a small pumpkin tea. As the days went by, the weather grew colder. Chilly winds howled past the store and jingled the chimes out front.

Hawks sauntered in, giving you the grin and nod he was now accustomed to.

“Small pumpkin?” you asked, gripping your scarf and holding it closer around your neck.

“You know it,” he winked.

You hated how every time he walked up to the counter your breath would hitch and your heart would skip a beat. The little wink he gave you definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you. You hid the flushed feeling by burying your face up to the tip of your nose in your scarf.

“So what’s been going on in tea land?” he asked. His fingers danced across the display of cup sizes and tea cakes to the side of the register. They stopped, resting on the side of the jar labeled “TIPS” in a fat black marker over bright colorful construction paper.

“Same old,” you replied. “How’s hero work?”

“Same old.” The two of you had grown comfortable with minimal conversation, almost finding it endearing that the two of you could communicate so much with so few words.

“And Yui?”

Hawks took a moment before answering. You looked up from the tea you were preparing but averted your eyes the second you realized he was staring at you. “I’m thinking of breaking up with her.”

You couldn’t pay attention to what he said next. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears at hearing his words. He was breaking up with her. The recent nights you had spent fantasizing what it would be like to be the one held in his arms at night seemed more in your grasp. The thought scared you a little.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Huh?” He snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, I think I zoned out a little.” You could feel your face heating up. “Why are you breaking up with her?”

“It’s been about four months,” he said, still toying with the rim of the tip jar.

It bothered you a little how he kept looking at it. Either put in a tip or leave it alone, you wanted to yell at him.

“Four months,” he repeated as if he needed to double check. “That’s when our contract is up, at least.”

You were confused. What was he talking about? “What do you mean?” The skepticism on your face made you look like a puppy being taunted with a bone.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re confused,” he said. “Our relationship,” he trailed off in thought, trying to find the right words. “It was never real, I guess. Never has been.”

As Hawks spoke about the contract the two of them were under, that her agent and the people working at the commission made them sign, your jaw became more and more unhinged.

“Why did they force you to date in the first place?” The shrill of your voice was hard to tame.

“Her agent knows my people well,” he admitted, referring to the commission. “And they thought this would be good for her publicity. They were right since it got her the big movie she’s working on, but they told us if nothing happens after four months we can end it.”

“I see.” You were still trying to put the pieces together in your mind. “So you never really loved her.”

He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “I thought that was pretty obvious,” he admitted. “Look, I know she’s your best friend and all but she’s kinda hard to be around and to get along with at times.”

Deep down you knew he was right, but hearing it come from someone that you knew Yui loved and trusted made your blood boil. What made you feel even worse was the growing hope within you that if Hawks didn’t like someone like her, he could possibly fall for someone like you.

He looked down at his phone to check the time. “Shit, I have training with my intern in ten minutes.” As you slid his drink towards him he fished into his wallet to pay. Taking out an extra bill, he folded it up and put it in the tip jar. “Promise me that when I break things off with her you’ll be there to comfort her?”

The question took you off guard but you nodded anyway.

He smiled a deep and genuine smile that showed so much more emotion than could be understood by the human brain. “Thanks. She’ll need a good friend like you to keep her company.” And with that, he dashed out the door quicker than your eyes could follow.

A week went by and you heard nothing. Hawks didn’t come into the shop to tell you how it went and Yui hadn’t texted you with any of her usual updates for how the movie was going. It wasn’t until you were locking up shop on a Friday night that you received a FaceTime request from Yui. You texted her, assuring her that once you got home you’d call her back. You knew that he did it and she needed to hear from you right now.

Snuggled into the plush fabric of the side-of-the-road sofa in the middle of your living room, you called her back. It only took one ring before she picked up. Her face was blotchy and red and the makeup she wore on set was streaking down her features.

“What happened?” you asked, fully aware of the situation.

She explained in detail everything that had happened, from the warm tea she was holding in her dressing room when he called her to break things off to the way his eyes shimmered with both sadness and relief as he told her what was on his mind.

You tried to reason with her as she blew her snotty nose into tissue after tissue. Phrases like “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you” and “You’re better than him anyway” often came up. Truth be told, you were only paying attention to her side of the story half the time. You slipped in and out, mind wandering over to where Hawks may be and how he must be doing.

“Maybe he had a reason for doing it,” you finally said once she had started to calm down.

“What?”

“Do you think he, I dunno, wasn’t happy?” You shrugged a bit. Your eyes traced the rhombus patterns on your carpet as they avoided Yui’s saddened expression. “Maybe he just wanted to be a free bird is all.”

You looked up from your carpet and came face to face with Yui’s eyes. Once doughy and glossed over with a thick layer of gelatinous tears, they now held a form of anger and hurt that you have never seen from her. “How could you say that?” she asked. “How could you even think of taking his side?”

“I’m not taking a side, I–”

“Yes you are!” Her face was turning red and as much as you wished to defend the man you had caught feelings for you also wanted to be there for Yui. “I don’t know how you could defend him right now, you guys aren’t even friends.”

Hearing her say that hit you deep in the chest. Of course she didn’t know how often Hawks had swung by the shop. Of course he wouldn’t tell her.

“You barely know him, (Y/n), so why are you defending him?”

Why were you defending him? Even with Yui out of the picture, there would still be a slim chance that Hawks actually felt the same way you did. He’s the number two hero, an icon in more ways than one. His fangirls pooled at his feet constantly. Why would you, just a simpleton working at a tea shop, have a chance with him?

“I can’t even talk to you right now.” She was looking down, refusing to make eye contact with you through the small screen.

“Yui, I–”

“No. Just,” she trailed off. “Call me when you know whose side you’re on.”

And with that she hung up and you were left alone. You felt terrible, like the worst friend in existence. You needed something to calm yourself down after the shitshow you had a feeling would be your last conversation with her for a long time.

Your shaky figure got up off the couch and went into the kitchen, putting up the water for a cup of tea. Your hands visibly calmed down once you gripped the hot mug with the pumpkin tea bag swirling inside.

“Hey baby bird.” As you walked into the living room, the person lounging on your sofa startled you. You let out a scream and the hot tea sloshed out of your mug and hit your chest, the thin material of your shirt and the knit sweater you dawned doing little to nothing to stop the burning sensation. “Ah shit.”

Hawks ran up to you and pressed the sleeve of his hero costume against your chest. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

The wince you gave him let him know his answer. “What are you doing here?” you managed to croak out once the heat subsided. “And how the hell do you know where I live?”

“Followed you home,” he said like it was nothing.

“So you stalked me.”

“I like to call it stealth training.” The grin on his face resembled a snarky cat and as pissed off and angry you were about him and Yui and everything, you couldn’t help letting out a laugh.

The aura between you two was both friendly and awkward. It seemed as though you both wanted to say something but didn’t know what. As Hawks kept rubbing his sleeve against your damp clothes, his eyes trailed over your face and tried reading into what you were thinking.

“I talked to Yui,” you finally let out. “She’s mad at me.”

“So I heard.” He stopped moving and rested his arm on your shoulder. “You deserve better friends.”

You looked away. “No. She does.”

He let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You, (Y/n), are kind, compassionate, care about your customers and you actually take time to listen to others. And I know Nakamura would say the same thing.”

Somehow the use of your friends last name didn’t bother you as much as it used to. What did cause you to blush was the sound of Hawks saying your own name. The sound of it leaving his lips had an imprint on you like no other.

“And those,” he continued, “are some of the many reasons why I started to fall for you.”

You felt a sting in your cheeks as they grew hot from his words. He liked you? Did you hear that correctly? He fell for you? The same way you fell for him? The only thing you could think to do was let out a “huh?”

And Hawks let out a toe curling laugh. “I like you. Have liked you for a while now.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were so overwhelmed with emotion. All you could even think to do was stare at him with your mouth agape.

“Hello?” he waved his hand in your face. “Earth to (Y/n).”

You shook your head and the rest of your body, getting any jitters out. “Um, yeah.”

He barked out another laugh. “So, do you got something to say to me or are you gonna leave me hanging?”

You took a sharp inhale. “I think that I might also like you,” you said. “A bit.”

“Now was that so hard to say?” He took a step forward, raising a hand to cup your face. He wasn’t ready, however, when you stepped away, shielding yourself from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Yui is what’s wrong.”

It dawned on him how difficult and confused you must’ve been feeling, especially if you’ve liked him for as long as he’s had feelings for you. Yui Nakamura is your best friend so of course having feelings for her boyfriend, her ex boyfriend, would make you fall into a pit of despair.

“I’m sorry.” You turned away, walking back to your kitchen.

Even though you clearly wanted to be left alone, Hawks followed you and stayed in the door frame as you put up water for another cup of tea. “You remember when I caught you sniffing the heck out of that box of Pumpkin tea?”

You made a disgruntled noise of agony as you buried your head in your hands.

He chuckled. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you. When did you know you had them for me?”

You sighed. “Look, Hawks. I really wish that things were different and that Yui wouldn’t be mad at me, but–”

“It’s a simple question, baby bird.” He reveled in the nickname.

Your eyes wandered over to the kettle and the soft heat that rose from the stove. “I think it was when I saw you give that kid and his mom and autograph and, I don’t know, you’re just...really good with kids is all.”

“Is that really all?” His cocky smirk struck you and you couldn’t help but hit him playfully.

“Shut up, asshole.” The kettle went off and you grabbed two mugs, placing pumpkin tea bags in each. “I like you, but I love Yui.”

“So I’m assuming that it would be inappropriate for me to kiss you right now?”

You handed him one of the now full mugs, your face lowered to hide your subtle embarrassment. “You are correct.” The two of you stood there in the middle of your cramped kitchen, neither darring to take a sip. “But,” you started. “We can maybe cuddle on the couch a bit and talk, if that’s something you want.”

His golden eyes brightened. “Yeah, baby bird. I’d like that.”

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #mha hawks #autumn #fall collab #sweater weather collab #bnha sanctuary #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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memzhay · 3 years

Note

I believe Rhett now has a collection of enchanted items around the castle? And Link keeps stumbling upon them just trying to clean up. He lives in a castle right? He thought it be a good idea to enchant blankie but turned out it wasn't.

Greetings, you magical sweetie!

Hark, ye! There be 1200ish words magically hidden below. Dare ye venture into realms of magic and whimsy featuring @theredquilt? Click below and all shall be revealed.

Drunk Wizard Rhett does indeed live in a castle, though he has been thinking of doing some major renovations. He looked in on a universe recently where there was this delightful little cottage surrounded by flower gardens on the greenest of emerald green hills in the midst of lush farmland. So tranquil! So serene! He was betting Link would absolutely flip out if he came home from grocery shopping and their place was now the cutest most picturesque farm ever.

Conversely, he once saw a movie where someone had a high-tech base of operations inside the caldera of an active volcano. Now that was bad ass! Had panache in spades, but when he thought of the air-conditioning bills, he wasn’t sure it would be worth the hassle. You know home projects. Always so much more involved and expensive than planned, and the logistics of forming an active volcano via magic were… well, ambitious. Ambitious enough that Rhett decided, “You know what’s bad ass? Castles. Castles are bad ass!”

That blanket is actually very interesting. It is the only object in the entire castle that Rhett has no idea where it came from. I mean there are loads of things he doesn’t exactly remember acquiring, things from all kinds of universes, some enchanted some not. But the red quilt is different. It’s not that he doesn’t remember where he picked it up, It has just always been there. Rhett suspects it somehow predates him, but that doesn’t make any kind of sense.

He has considered trying all manner of enchantments on it. However, one must be cautious when bespelling an object that has already been bespelled or has a magic of its own. Especially if you don’t know exactly what that magic is. It’s like putting too many mixers in a Long Island Iced Tea. Next thing you know instead of a tasty beverage engineered to get you sloshed in a hurry, you now have a sloppy frat party accident that tastes like old Halloween candy and regret. He would never do that to his precious blankie!

One afternoon, Link was in the library playing Yahtzee with Tiki and Bav Neva. Well, they started out playing Yahtzee, but now they were really just shaking the dice around in Tiki, turning him upside down on the table, and seeing if Bav Neva could prophesy the results of the roll. She was extremely good at it, of course. One does not become Oracle of the Sacred Grove of Improbability for shits and giggles after all. They rolled again and again, and she never once started shouting about blood and fire. Probably because Tiki kept fawning over her in amazement anytime she guessed the dice correctly.

Rhett came up behind them and quickly bundled Link up in the red quilt, wrapping him up tightly and squeezing him in a ferocious bear hug from behind.

“Empty your mind and tell me what you feel!” Rhett commanded urgently.

Link giggled. “Um startled… Amused… Not gonna lie, a little turned on?” he confessed at the feeling of Rhett’s powerful arms squeezing him from outside his blanket cocoon. “Origins of your blanket bothering you again?”

“It does greatly vex me,” Rhett admitted. “It feels like something from that one universe, you know the one with the great hipster donut place, and that version of me that thinks he is so much more ‘real’ than the rest of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Link agreed. “You’re really funny in that universe.”

“Hmmph,” Rhett harumphed. “He thinks he is,” he muttered under his breath. He released Link and pulled the blanket from his body, slinging it over his shoulder. “In any case, Link, I require your assistance with some most urgent magical business.”

“Of course,” Link readily agreed. “Anything to help.”

“Excellent,” Rhett said pleased. “I have devised a series of magical trials so that we can determine once and for all what is so magical about my favorite blanket.”

“Well, that is certainly some urgent magical business,” Link said with a chuckle.

“Firstly,” Rhett carried on, “We will drape the blanket over the backs of some chairs from the dining hall and crawl underneath it, turning it into a secret magical fort. If the blanket thinks of us as secret confidants, it may reveal it’s mysteries unto us.”

“Next, should that prove unfruitful,” Rhett continued ambling over to the cauldron of enchanted ale, drawing a fresh goblet, and giving it a meditative slurp, “We shall take the blanket out onto the grounds of the castle, lay it upon the earth, and have a picnic on it. Perhaps the combination of the elements, the earth, the air, the sunshine, the merriment of revelry upon it, shall make it let it’s guard down enough that we might discover it’s secrets.”

“Finally, should it become absolutely necessary, we will lay it down flat upon the bed. We will both lay at the foot of the bed and roll ourselves up in the blanket. Rolling over and over each other in a maneuver that shall from now on be known as ‘wizard sushi’. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I firmly believe we should be naked for this stage of the trials,” he said seriously. “Except for my velvet slippers because I don’t like my feet to be cold,” he quickly amended.

“It only makes sense,” Link answered seductively. These magical trials were starting to sound like a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

“If the blanket does not become adequately disoriented by the repeated rolling about and reveal itself to us, we might have no choice but to have sexy times while so encased within it. It’s a bit of a Hail Mary at that point, but could work,” Rhett concluded.

“Worth a shot,” Link agreed. “It’s important to be thorough.”

“Then grab some pillows and let us away to the dining hall,” Rhett proclaimed, exiting the library with the red quilt draped majestically over his shoulder.

“Hey Link,” Tiki called. “Before you head off on your magical blanket mission, could you maybe put me and Bav Neva on that shelf in your room next to the window so we can watch the waves for a while? Maybe put down some of those nice cloth napkins so Bavs doesn’t get chilly?”

If it were possible for a prophesying skull chalice to smile demurely, she was managing it very nicely.

“Sure thing, Tiki,” Link agreed with a wink. Not dreaming of standing in the way of some drinkware romance.

#drunk wizard rhett #rhink fic #rhink #ask memzhay

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saladbroth · 3 years

Text

.because @a-tomb-with-a-view and i have had this discussion about three times now, i present:

JATP and Alcohol

(we’re european, our drinking culture is very different and we start a lot younger without issues here)

Luke: Cannot handle alcohol well, at all. He takes one shot or drinks one cocktail and is fucked. Keeps forgetting and/or ignoring that fact and insists that it’s going to be fine whenever they drink. Has to be forcibly held back from making terrible decisions because he will throw up and have a hangover. The only one who likes wine, and can handle up to three glasses if Chardonnay or something, after that it’s over. Starts slurring his speech and staggering, will just pass out and sleep like the dead at some point during the evening, when exactly is yet to be reliably predicted. When pictures are taken you can tell he is fucked up, or he’s just passed out on a couch in the background. Has the worst hangovers and does not stop complaining about them

Reggie: He’s chill. Likes cocktails a lot (especially fruity ones) and has a pretty normal tolerance. He just gets happier and more energetic when he’s drunk, sings a lot and hugs everyone. Tends to egg Luke on, but never shares any of his shots with him. He enjoys Tequila to the disgust of everyone, and makes it a point to drink it a lot just because of that. Tequila slammers are his shit. He hates any other form of shots. Can mix alcohols without too much trouble. Becomes even more of a human embodiment of a puppy, is just really adorable, takes a lot of pics, but you can tell he’s drunk. He has hangovers and will cry until given greasy food.

Bobby: Mans takes shots like nothing else. Cannot handle fuzzy or sweet alcohol, and if he drinks a cocktail it’s strong. Like, strong strong. Three parts strong liquor and one part fruit juice. The rum and coke type, if he needs to have a drink that takes longer than a second. Very good at taking shots, but doesn’t have a good face doing it, grimaces a lot. He gets more talkative with alcohol, and gets dumber ideas, which means he dares the others (especially Alex) to do dumb shit. Higher tolerance than Reggie, and rarely has a hangover. He’s in pictures and you can only tell he’s drunk after like, 2 am. Probably takes absinth shots for fun.

Alex: God among men, if the men are the rest of Sunset Curve plus Willie. He can, in theory, drink everything, but hates wine. His favourite is high percentage beer, and not the American shit. He’s into crafty beers and more expensive ones from oversees/abroad. Also likes (flavoured) Vodka a lot, vodka & coke is his go to mix. Has been known to drink five Long Island Iced Teas and not even slur a word. Alcohol overrides his anxiety first, and makes him more chill, so it takes a fucking lot until he’s actually proper drunk. Has a really, really high tolerance and his drunkenness can be seen more in his actions than his speech or movement. Goes along with Bobby’s dumb ideas, and has a few of his own, only held back by one reason (Willie). Is usually the one holding Luke back from fucking himself up even further. Has never in his life had a hangover, but will cry if given greasy food the next morning.

Willie: Has a fairly low tolerance, but still more than Luke. He also drinks everything but handles it a lot less well. Cocktails might be his fave though, especially with White Rum. He gets really whiny and clingy when he’s drunk, and focuses all of that on Alex. Usually drinks two cocktails and takes one shot with Bobby, before he’s done and should not be given more, lest he throw up. Despises beer, which is bad, because Alex loves it and tastes like it when kissing. Willie can and will cry if he doesn’t see Alex for longer than a minute, so Alex has taken to just carrying him around when they drink. Is like a koala on Alex. Has hangovers but a boyfriend who takes care of him and recovers really quickly.

Julie: Similar to Reggie in the way that she loves all things fruity cocktails, but has a lower tolerance. The more colourful the drinks, the better. She gets very happy and giggly with drinking, but also very snacky. She will eat everything in the house, or demand to be driven to a fastfood place. Absolutely terrible at taking any shots, but she still makes fun of Luke for being worse than her. Will go along with any dare, so don’t tell her to chug anything, she will, and she’ll make you regret daring her the next day. Also very touchy and clingy when drunk, will tell you she loves you. Typical drunk girl in a bathroom only everywhere. Manages to look absolutely flawless in pictures even if she’s off her shits. Has hangovers and regrets the next morning.

Carrie: Likes more ‘sophisticated’ drinks, loves Gin Tonics and Martinis. Can take shots and handle them well, doesn’t want to though. Similar tolerance to Alex, and you can’t really tell she’s drunk as long as she’s sitting down. Don’t make her stand up, she has lost all control over her body and will sway on the spot, when properly drunk. Also gets more talkative and sweet, gets emotional and will cry over spilling her drink if she’s really in it. Poses for photos but somehow still looks drunk, even if Julie next to her was absolutely fucked. Has very light hangovers and makes fun of those who suffer the morning after drinking.

Flynn: The queen, bow before her. Highest tolerance out of anybody, only Alex rivals her sometimes. Drinks straight shots of Whiskey and doesn’t even blink doing so. Genuinely can drink anything and continue her conversation like nothing, which has inspired awe (and gay feelings in case of Carrie). Doesn’t really have a favourite or a go to drink, just drinks what’s available, prefers the stronger stuff though. Also the one who holds others back from terrible decisions if Alex is occupied with Willie. Has not heard of hangovers because they’re scared of her, and is usually the one to take care of Julie and Luke, while shaking her head at them. Is usually taken for the one sober friend even if her blood alcohol is high as fuck because she just doesn’t get affected by it, visibly.

#alcohol tw #alcohol cw #julie and the phantoms #jatp #willex #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #willie jatp #reggie peters

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daddykohli · 4 years

Text

you make me live, you’re my best friend

i’ve been in my feelings about singing in the car with spencer on my morning commutes so I decided to write about it!

warnings: fluff, reid inadvertently outs himself to the team (no angst or upset at all), alcohol, cursing

bi spencer x bi fem reader

2.8k words

mornings are for coffee and contemplation. and sometimes singing.

Despite the peppy attitude he arrived to work with nearly every day, Spencer Reid was not a morning person. He needed a good combination of things to get him to peak performance including at least two strong coffees with a mountain of sugar, his mismatched socks and you. Well, you and the speakers blasting your favorite music on the way to work.

You had an eclectic taste and a loud mouth, frankly, and Spencer didn’t get everything you played for him but he was game to sit in the passenger’s seat with his sunglasses on, watching you belt along with whatever 80′s power ballad, mid 2000′s country hit or latest TikTok trendy song you’d gotten stuck in your head.

Thanks to a combination of his eidetic memory and an embarrassing and constant urge to please you, Spencer pulled up the lyrics on his phone to every song you played for the first time, committing them to memory forever. This was a blessing and a curse; it wasn’t helpful to be on a case and find he’s been looking at bodies, mumbling “I'll take my chances in traffic, she suckin' on dick, no hands with it” absently under his breath, but nothing in the world made his girl happier than him singing along by her side loudly, badly at 7 am.

This also wasn’t an activity Spencer shared with the team. If you asked any one of them at any given time, they’d collectively decided that you two were having sex in the mornings because nothing else could explain why you tumbled in the door together, giggling and ready to take on the world while the rest of them were dragging their feet, squinting in the harsh white lights of the bullpen.

There were certainly more humiliating things for the team to find out about, but Spencer didn’t particularly want to listen to the team hounding them to join karaoke night once they knew Spencer had no real qualms with making a fool out of himself while singing.

As it was, one night when you were out with the girls, 3 cocktails and half pitcher of blue long island ice tea in, you accidentally spilled the beans. It was the damn DJ—if he hadn’t played “Africa” by Toto, none of this would’ve happened. You were leaning on Emily’s shoulder when you heard a familiar beat and shrieked, patting Emily’s arm rather aggressively.

“This is me ‘n Spencer’s song,” you told the group, closing your eyes and smiling, swaying along to the music. The ladies laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief.

“It’s not your song, there’s no way,” JJ protested, rolling her eyes, not bothering to hide her laughter.

You huffed, irritated that they couldn’t read your mind. “Well it’s not our song but it’s our car song!”

Your friends brows furrowed almost in unison, making you giggle.”Car song...?” Garcia asked, chin in her hand. You gasped dramatically, shaking your head in denial.

“NO, nono no, Spence said-we can’t talk about the car songs, I can’t-forget I said ‘nything,” your hands were moving wildly, subconsciously mimicking the way your boyfriend used his hands to express his own emotions. This was the wrong reaction, which sober you would have had the sense to realize beforehand. JJ, Emily and Garcia leaned in, suddenly extremely interested, matching mischievous grins on their faces.

“Explain. Immediately,” Garcia demanded, slapping her hand down on the table in front of you. You mimed zipping your lips closed and throwing the key across the bar, shaking your head.

“Mm-mm,” you mumbled, shrugging. There was no way you were going to lose your morning singing buddy because of your loose lips. Sober you also would have known that Spencer (who lived with you) wouldn’t stop riding to work with you or singing in the car with you over his team finding out, but you tended to be a little one-track-minded when you drank.

The girls finally relented, switching the conversation gears to people-watching, playing a lighthearted profiling game with the other patrons. There was someone in the group, however, who hadn’t forgotten and wouldn’t forget by Monday morning either.

When Monday morning rolled around, Garcia laid in wait for her target to arrive. When he did, she snatched him by the hand and dragged him into her Batcave. Derek made a particularly un-manly noise that Garcia would file away for later, but right now she needed his guidance.

“I’m gonna do a bad thing,” she greeted, plopping down in her chair.

“Woman-” Derek began, still half asleep, heart racing from being kidnapped at 7 o’ clock in the morning.

“No time,” Garcia interrupted, “I have information.”

Derek raised an eyebrows, sitting down in the other chair in the room, indicating that he was interested.

“Our resident baby and pretty boy sing in the car in the mornings,” she stated.

Derek stared, opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. “Sing?” he finally asked, voice dripping with skepticism. “I mean her, sure, but Spencer? Are you sure?”

Garcia nodded, turning to her computer. “A certain cocktail induced confession. Now here’s where I need you to convince me it’s a bad idea to hack into her dash cam so we can see the show.”

Derek huffed out a laugh and put his head in his hands. “Baby girl, you know I would never miss out on a chance to humiliate Reid, but are you sure this is what’s happening? Because if it is, I’m bringing the rest of the team and providing popcorn,” he warned.

Garcia’s smile grew to luminous proportions. “You know, I only asked you to stop me because I knew you’d be the least likely to do so?” she asked.

Derek just laughed, shaking his head. “You are so bad”.

You and Spencer woke up in rare form on Tuesday morning. You both felt well rested (that didn’t stop you from guzzling two coffees each before you hit the door) and in high spirits. Since you woke early, you had a lazy morning in bed, kissing and whispering and giggling, tangled in the sheets. You showered together instead of apart and had an actual solid breakfast rather than a granola bar split down the middle on your way up the elevator at headquarters.

By the time you made it to the car, (Spencer in a button up and cardigan, dark pants and his converse and you in a dress that complimented your eyes with a blazer as an afterthought, in case you needed to go out into the field unexpectedly today) you were both a little bummed that your good moods were going to be dampened by paperwork shortly, but you still had the commute ahead of you and you knew it’d take no convincing to get Spencer to sing along with you today.

Meanwhile, at headquarters, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Emily and a very reluctant Hotch were crowded around Garcia’s computer. Suddenly the screen came to life showing a clear, albeit off-color video feed of you and Spencer in the front seats of your car.

Garcia gasped, clapped her hands delightedly, and everyone else stepped closer.

“We’re acknowledging that this is a huge invasion of privacy, right,” JJ asked absently.

“And a gross misuse of government property to do so,” Hotch added gruffly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rossi and Emily dismissed in unison, squinting at the screen. You and Spencer already had big smiles on your faces, chattering on about some movie you’d watched together last night, Spencer talking about the logistics of life on Saturn and you explaining to him that the movie was about lesbians in space and you didn’t care whether it was sustainable to live on another planet.

The team couldn’t help but smile at their two youngest co-workers so obviously, comfortably in love.

“So what’ll it be today?” Spencer asked, after relenting that gays in space was enough of a plot line to hold a film despite its obvious scientific pitfalls.

You fiddled with your phone, deciding on a playlist while waiting for him to buckle up for the drive to work. Finally, you decided one one simply named “drive” that included all the songs in your library that got you excited to be alive.

“I think we’re going high-energy today,” you announced to Spencer, smiling as you felt his warm hand push up the hem of your dress slightly to land in its familiar spot on your bare thigh, fingers curling to rest against the sensitive skin of the inner portion.

Spencer nodded, leaning his head back and running a hand through his hair as music filled the car. He didn’t bother to pull out his phone, this playlist was a frequent choice of yours and he already knew all the songs on it by heart.

“Did you know that listening to the music you love actually causes your brain release more dopamine, a crucial neurotransmitter for humans’ emotional and cognitive functioning? It’s connected to the brain’s reward experience, enjoying a piece of music, deriving pleasure from it, wanting to listen to it again, being willing to spend money for it, strongly depend on the dopamine released in our synapses,” Spencer explained happily, feeling safe in knowing you’d never get tired of listening to him share information.

“That explains a lot!” you replied excitedly, nodding as you put the car in reverse and slowly pulled out of the driveway and onto your quiet street. Well, yours and Spencer’s.

You bit your lip, smiling at your internal correction. Spencer had been your best friend for so long that sometimes you forgot that you were a couple now. Sure, there was a lot more kissing now but he was still just your Spencer and it sent the butterflies in your tummy into a frenzy whenever he touched you in a way that he wouldn’t have allowed himself when you were just friends.

“C’mon now, let’s fuckin’ go,” you cheered, getting your heart racing and ready for the day, not catching Spencer looking at you with so much love written all over his face that it was sickening and a smile that could overshadow the sun.

“They’re disgusting,” Emily said fondly, watching her friends interact onscreen. She was seeing a sillier side of Spencer, a more gentle and carefree side that made her feel warm in her stomach. It made sense that he was happiest when he was with his girl and no responsibility at hand but she wished they could all see him like that more often.

The team all laughed, eyes fixed on the screen when the door opened and the smell of melted butter wafted in. Morgan had a large bowl filled with popcorn and Garcia clapped, laughing and reaching for a handful.

“I told you I’d get snacks for show!” he stated, grinning as he sat in the only empty chair left in the room. “What’d I miss?” he asked, munching on a few pieces of popcorn.

“AND I MEANT EVERY WORD I SAID, WHEN I SAID THAT I LOVE YOU I MEANT THAT I LOVE YOU FOREVER,” you and Spencer were scream-singing “Keep on Loving You” by REO Speedwagon until your throats were sore, giggling in between verses. You had one hand on the wheel (that had been a point of contention between you and Spencer for awhile but it had been some months since he’d stopped spouting accident statistics at you and started to trust you behind the wheel) and one elbow resting on the console and both felt utterly invincible.

When the song ended, it faded into “What I Need” by Hayley Kiyoko and you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat. “I’m so gay,” you stated, thinking about the girl with blonde hair and dance moves you daydreamed about far too often.

Spencer laughed as he sang along, tapping out the rhythm with his fingers on your inner thigh, sliding on his sunglasses. “Would you leave me for her?” he asked playfully, nodding his head toward the radio.

“In an instant,” you replied, shrugging and tossing your hair before really getting into the song, body rolling and catching glancing at Spencer’s face, reveling in his shameless ogling.

After Hayley’s voice cut, the playlist moved right into “Plum” by Troye Sivan and Spencer groaned in a mock of your groan from earlier. “I would leave you for Troye Sivan,” he told you, nodding as he hummed along with the song.

“I would be insulted if you didn’t, given the opportunity. I would love it if you left me for Troye Sivan, it would be an honor,” you both fell into giggles and when Spencer slid his sunglasses off his face, he accidentally dropped them on the floor at his feet. To make matters worse, in true clumsy Spencer fashion, he bumped his head on the dash when he reached down to pick them up.

You snorted, reached out and patted his cheek. “And they call me the bi disaster,” you teased, shaking her head.

“I’ll admit that sometimes I earn that title,” he replied, face reddening.

There was dead silence in the Batcave, the longest silence that the team had ever participated in, perhaps.

They already knew you were bisexual, tiny flag on your desk and they really did call you the “bi disaster” in the company of those you were out to, clumsy, flirty and loud as you were. But Spencer. This was new information.

Hotch was the first to speak up. “I told you this was a bad idea, I’m calling it off,” he stated, shaking his head, wondering how the hell he was going to advise his team to handle this.

“No, no, wait,” JJ spoke up. Everyone looked toward her, surprised. “Look,” she began, tugging on Hotch’s sleeve to bring him back down into his chair, “we already know. They’re 10 minutes from headquarters now, how much more private information could they possibly reveal?”

She had a point. They’d come this far in what had originally been a harmless plan to embarrass Spencer about his bad singing and make his face turn a delightful red. Hotch sat down slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so.

“Go on,” he told Garcia begrudgingly and she obeyed, cranking the volume again to hear Spencer taking on a solo in “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. It would have been a crime to miss this.

After tackling One Direction and The 1975, you were about 5 minutes from work when it came time for the coveted Last Song of the Drive. It was an important one, it set the mood for the day and sometimes you and Spencer spent half of that time choosing the perfect one. Today, it only took one skip to land on “Truth Hurts” by Lizzo.

You and Spencer looked at one another, grinning and cheered, you bouncing in your seat and him pounding on the dash with his fist.

“WHY ARE MEN GREAT ‘TILL THEY GOTTA BE GREAT,” you both screamed, cracking the windows so everyone within a 5 mile radius could hear your terrible, delighted voices.

You and Spencer were holding hands, just broken apart from a few stolen kisses in the elevator when the doors opened, revealing your entire team, clearly on pins and needles. They’d been waiting for you.

You frowned, reaching for your phone instinctively. “Did we miss a call...?”

Rossi shook his head, coming forward, all fatherly and gentle.

“So what had happened was-”

“I hacked your dash cam so we could hear Spencer singing and accidentally found out you’re bisexual,” Garcia blurted, feeling responsible for the whole debacle. She was ready for any ill will pointed her way, but she wouldn’t let Rossi take the responsibility of confessing on behalf of what was her idea.

You felt Spencer’s hand tense in yours for a moment—his sexuality wasn’t something he hid, but he wasn’t vocal about it like you were. You looked up into his handsome face to see a small, sheepish smile on it.

“It’s not a secret,” he informed his family, shrugging. “Just didn’t think it was necessary to announce it in a newsletter”.

The whole room still felt thick with apprehension and you were ready to fly off the handle if anyone teased your boyfriend about this.

Spencer pulled his hand from yours and moved forward to rest it on his chosen sister’s shoulder. Garcia smiled at the contact. “It’s okay,” he told her gently, sputtering as she swept him into a crushing hug that lifted him off the floor.

The rest of the team crowded around and your heart grew 3 sizes watching your family smother Spencer with love and support, him tall, red faced and pleased right in the middle. Morgan strode over, winked and grabbed you by the hand to pull you into the group hug, making you laugh and you were crushed in alongside the people you love the most.

“So...Spencer, would you say you’re 98% or 99% or maybe...100% That Bitch?” Emily teased, bringing fire to Spencer’s cheeks and laughter to the rest of the team, including yourself.

You’re never happier than moments like these. Among your best friends.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #my fic

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barnesandco · 4 years

Note

Plzplzplzzzzz can you write a buckyxdeaf reader imagine, I just got my hearing aids after being diagnosed as moderate deaf a few months ago and there’s not enough of them imagines!!🥺 where reader gets her hearing aids or gets insecure about her deafness

Relearning

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: One very short allusion to the Winter Soldier. Insecurities about disabilities. Brief mention of a supporting character’s nightmares.

A/N: Thank you again for thinking of me for this request, nonny. I hope I was able to provide what you wanted.

They day they arrive, your face falls like a confirmation of your worst anticipations. Hearing aids, as small and inconspicuous as possible, hidden if you close the fist you hold then in, lie on your palm, unassuming. Bucky's the only one who reads the tension in the hard way you've set you shoulders, and makes some indications to Steve that he picks up on immediately and clears out the common area. Nobody was staring in the first place -- only Tony had come up to the two of you at the chess table with the case in hand -- but Bucky knows you need your space, your time. He doesn't expect you to seek that distance away from him, too.

When the area is empty, you sit with Bucky's hand over one tightly clenched fist laid on the table, almost drawing blood, the other shaking furiously. He rises from his side to make his way to you, and you stand, too. But before he can get to you, you leave. Hearing aids in hand and tears barely held back, while Bucky feels as helpless as he ever has.

-----

Going back to his room, he thinks of when it all began. The explosion in Belarus a year ago, just before he could work up the courage to ask you out. The blast impaired your hearing and you started lip reading, made sure nobody approached you from behind. Refused to let Bucky learn sign language for your sake because you were convinced it would get better soon, even though he knew you were learning it yourself. Only, it didn’t, and the doctor’s appointments reinforced that idea, wrote it in concrete, and you tried to live with it regardless.

Naturally, you had to relent to medical opinion at some point, and you underwent further testing and Tony starting working on your hearing aids alongside a biomedical engineer from MIT named Hailey. This was the destination, and he suspected it would be hard to come to terms with, but he wished he had prepared for it better. If only he knew what to do.

-----

It takes you a full day to leave your room. The only reason Bucky doesn't break down your door is because Friday told him you're still eating.

When you emerge, it is a Saturday morning. Exercise hour. The morning is golden and yellow-green against the backdrop of the grounds the Sun has just risen over. Summer has sunk deep enough into early May's bones that the temperature is lukewarm.

He's hidden in the breakfast nook in the kitchen wearing ridiculous sheep patterned sweatpants -- Wanda's idea of a gag gift -- having opted out of the gym in hopes that you might reappear, and you do. Eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, ethereal radiance dimmed but he accepts you to be the most wondrous person he knows even now.

Especially now, when you are hopefully able to utilize the sense that used to be impaired. The hearing aids look unusual on you, but only the way in which new things do. Something you do not recognize but are prepared to learn.

He watches you ready your breakfast. A couple of Wanda's blueberry muffins and jasmine tea. You love tea and he loves you. The crinkle in your nose, that he has missed so, as you wait for the water to boil. An itch behind your ear -- a new gesture, but just as endearing -- while the kettle simmers and hisses.

Still unaware of his presence, with your eyes focused elsewhere and ears not quite tuned to their aids, you sit at the kitchen island facing the window, the grass lawns, the fresh air seeping in through the opening. He watches you relish the morning on your face, your closed eyes and the curve of your lips loose and relaxed instead of in a frown like he last saw it. The moment is as still as ice, your forms frozen in glacier time, and Bucky, for all his hatred of the cold, would gladly stay in it if you'll let him be this close to you.

His own limbs release the stress in his shoulders slowly, springs unwinding in his marrow with creaks audible to his mind, and he breathes a little slower, more naturally, more at ease now that you are here. His life vein, his gentle love.

The muffins are consumed slowly, your tongue peeking out to lick the last of their taste from your lips, the way Wanda's baking deserves to be savored. You nurse your tea in your hands for a long time, trying to take all the heat you can through the porcelain. Your fingers are always cold, Bucky knows. He has had too many tangled-bedsheet mornings, with your hands offering enough weight for him to feel but never enough for his skin to warm yours.

For a second, in between one rustle of the leaves in the border trees and the next, he forgets where he is, and loses himself in the memory of pressing your hands to his neck, letting you warm yourself by his collarbone and relishing in the hot goosebumps elicited by the movement of your hands down his abdomen.

But then you put your mug in the sink, and on instinct, Bucky rises and calls your name. Loud enough that he knows you'll hear him, but soft enough not to startle you. Everything is a delicate balance with you, a see-saw he is more than happy to keep in the air for you.

You're surprised to see him there, and you start to turn away, but Bucky speaks again.

"Please. Please, honey. Don't turn away," he pleads to your crestfallen expression, heart tearing at the seams. You need to understand that he is not going to give up on you for this, just like you've never turned away his metal arm.

Your hoarse voice, tired and sad in equal measure, says "Sorry." And you leave, again.

-----

Bucky does the only thing he can think of. He goes to Clint. The archer’s Bed-Stuy apartment emits sounds of vacuum cleaning and Bucky rings the bell twice before calling him. His phone bell is paired with his hearing aids, so he answers quickly, and lets Bucky in.

“You’re... cleaning,” Bucky states in a questioning voice, looking around at the apartment he has never seen in such a clean condition previously.

Clint clears his throat uncomfortably as he heads to the kitchen. “Yeah, Nat wanted to stay over for a bit and you know her...” he says with his face in the fridge, rummaging for Coca Cola, and indeed, Bucky does know. He knows of her clean-freak tendencies and the spate of nightmares she’s been having that might induce her to seek Clint’s comfort from the new, bad memories a mission in Moscow last month dredged up.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Clint asks pleasantly, forcing away the sympathetic sorrow in both of their minds.

Bucky blanches. He isn’t here for pleasantries, but he’s sure Clint will understand. “Could you teach me sign language?” Bucky asks back, and watches Clint consider the question. Clint knows about the recent arrival of your hearing aids, and your consequent insecurities.

“Of course,” is the answer, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Looks forward to learning something new. Something to bring him closer to you again.

-----

Bucky spends a month with his heart aching whenever you pass by him, thankfully no longer hiding away but still refusing to let him in, and he tries to invest his energy into showing you he loves you still, loves you always, and he does not think any lesser of you.

Clint is patient. It takes Bucky’s hands a while to get used to the smooth, elegant flow of fingers to fist, to shape, to mold into meaning because he is so used to using his words. All that time with the mask has made him grateful for every letter he gets the chance to utter, but he will gladly give it up for you. If this sacred tongue that involves no tongue at all, that relays meaning through the extension of his forefinger, thumb and pinky from a fist -- love -- and the hand over his face -- beautiful -- and two peace signs joined at the top -- partner -- is what it takes to be yours, he’ll practise till you smile again.

-----

It takes another month for you to sit across from him at the chess table he has been waiting at since your hearing aids arrive. You hesitate by your chair. Bucky lifts his hands.¨

Flat right hand over the center of his chest. Clockwise arc. Please.

Thank you. Your fingers go from touching your lips to bringing your hand forth in a flat palm in front of him. Once you’ve sat down, Bucky rolls out the chess pieces, and you set them up.

Bucky watches you with scared scrutiny, praying for no wrong moves. Once the pieces are set up, you make your move, and then wait for Bucky. I love you, he signs, while the hubbub of the common area falls away. The world is silent save for the screaming brightness of your face. His only melody. His quiet choir. His silent muse.

I love you, too, you sign, and reach across the table to take his hand. Your smile is shaking, like it’s holding the weight of worlds, and Bucky takes the burdens away, leaning across to kiss your lips. The moment is a bubble of wonder, of marvellous adoration, where the air holds its breath. Your hands find Bucky’s hair as his come up to cradle your jaw gently. A metal finger traces over a hearing aid while his thumb strokes over your cheekbone. Stronger smiles form against each other’s lips. This is what home feels like.

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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jokers-of-the-impractical · 3 years

Text

Brian Quinn Mini Series “I Found a Boy” Part 3 of 3

Part 1 �� Part 2

Content Warning: Implied Smut, Swearing

Word Count: 2100ish

The warm sunshine peeking through the curtains was a welcome contrast to the chilly weather that lay on the streets of Staten Island below you. You kept your eyes closed to savor the moment for just a short while more, but soon the serene beauty was interrupted by the sound of a beeping alarm clock altering it was now eight in the morning. You felt the bed shift next to you and knew Brian was turning to shut off the noise coming from your bedside table. The cats began to shift as well and leap down from their respective resting spots. As Q did so he leaned his face down and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, instantly a warmth began to rise to your cheeks. “Good morning sweetheart” he muttered out in a half asleep and still raspy voice with an adorable grin and messy hair strewn about his head. As he began to turn back over to get out of bed and begin prepping for the morning ahead of him, you wrapped both your arms around one of his and held on tight. “No. Five more minutes” you grumbled out. You glanced over to see him giggling to himself. He did his best to shimmy out of your arms but it was to no avail. Slowly you climbed on top of him, the satin of your pajama set grazing against his bare chest and boxers. You were not letting the love of your life and personal space heater get up this morning. You raised your head so that your eyes would meet his deep shining orbs lovingly gazing back at you. “Baby, I gotta go! Trust me the sooner I get to the production meeting, the sooner I get to come home and hang out with you.” You let out an overly dramatic sigh and slight chuckle escaped too.

“But Bri, why did they have to schedule a meeting on a weekend! I went to spend my day off with you.” With that you sat up with crisscrossed legs and crossed your arms across your chest. With the last word you let your lips pop out into a pout. He could tell you were joking around with him and sat up to make your eyes meet again. “Well… who knows Mrs. Quinn? Maybe once I get back we can reenact what happened late into the night.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Of course Mr. Quinn.” With that he planted a deep and passionate kiss on your lips before he rose from the bed and started to get ready for his meeting. As you cozied back into bed to escape the cold you silently watched him in awe, how did you get so lucky? You looked down to the engagement ring he had placed on your hand three years ago, and the wedding band that had resided with it for just under two years. You didn’t realize just how lost you had been in your thoughts until he was facing you again, dressed and his signature iced tea with lemon in a travel cup in tow with his car keys. But the smell of the tea today sent your stomach on a tilt-a-whirl. “Well my love, I’m off. I’ll be back before ya know it!” You pecked his lips and he made his way back downstairs and out the door. As soon as you were sure he wouldn’t hear you, you jumped up and sprinted to the bedroom’s ensuite bathroom to release the contents of your stomach. After you had finished, you kept wondering why all of the sudden the smell of iced tea and lemon made you puke? Then it hit you. You started rummaging through the cabinets in the bathroom until you found the hot pink boxes you were looking for. You pulled out the pregnancy tests that the rest of the guys got you as a one-year anniversary present. After making sure they hadn’t expired and how to use them, you go to business, using both just to be sure. You finished up and set the timer on your phone. As you waited you brushed your teeth to get the rancid taste out of your mouth from the unfortunate wake up call you had a few minutes prior. Once the timer chimed letting you know it was time to check, you slowly grabbed both tests and flipped them over to see the results. Both of them were the same. You were pregnant. An immense wave of joy and excitement washed over you. Now you were even more excited for Brian to get home so you could tell him the news. You knew he would be in the meeting until around eleven-thirty so you decided to take a quick shower and find other ways to occupy the time. After the warm droplets of water relaxed your muscles, you put your hair up in a messy bun and decided to throw on an oversized sweater and leggings. You then grabbed some papers you had to look over and grade that were sitting on your desk as well as your favorite bottle of nail polish. As you made your way downstairs to the living room you stopped at the framed photo of you and Brian from your wedding reception. It was a photo from your first dance. There you stood in your spaghetti strap ball gown, and hair done is a style reminiscent of Brigette Bardot with Bri looking very dapper in a tuxedo, he had just told you some silly joke so you were both looking at each other laughing. You could still feel the emotions and see the love in your eyes and his, you remember how happy you both felt them, and know you had the joys of parenthood to look forward to. Since grading elementary school papers was a total breeze you were now sitting with the tv on quietly for some background noise with a freshly dry mani and pedi while curled up and reading a book. Suddenly, loud knocking echoed abruptly throughout the house. You put your book down puzzled and followed the cats to the door. You were expecting anyone, but you opened the door anyway thinking maybe it was Amazon. As the door opened you soon met a familiar pair of eyes, those belonging to a certain ex boyfriend named Dean. “Dean? What are you doing here? Wait. How do you even know where I live?” He shoved his hands into his pant pockets and looked at you with a sheepish smile. “Hey Y/N. Can I come in? I’ve wanted to talk to you for quite some time, and I finally convinced Natasha to tell me your address.” You let out an exasperated sigh, and motioned for him to come in. You made a mental note to call your friend Nat and chew her out later. You knew that she was still friends with Dean after your breakup, but heck she was one of your best friends and bridesmaids! Why would she tell him! You led Dean to the small table in the kitchen, he took a seat while you leaned against the counter. You brewed yourself a mug of hot cocoa to calm the fury and nerves coursing through you. “Do you want anything?” “Um yeah, can I have water?” You went into the fridge, pulled out a bottle, handed it to him and took your place across the table. “What do you want Dean?” the annoyance was evident in your voice. “I just wanted to catch up, see how you were doing.” “I’m doing just fine. How’s Andi?” When you brought up your ex best friend and the girl he cheated on you with, he slightly flinched. “I’m okay. We ended things years ago.” “Aw. I hate to say I’m not surprised. So no other conquests or flings?” He just shook his head. You had no idea where all of this sudden confidence was coming from, but you weren’t complaining. Throughout your relationship Brian had helped you grow even more and get even more brave and strong, if only he could see this now. “Are you still with that guy from TV? Nat told me it was pretty serious.” “Yeah I am still with Brian, in fact he should be back here soon.” You looked at him dumbfounded, did he honestly not know you and Brian had been married for almost two years now? You looked to see that the sleeve of your sweater was covering the rings on your finger. You went to slide the sleeve down to show him the rings, when he suddenly started speaking again while rising up from the table. “Look Y/N, the real reason I’m here is that… I know I messed up. But I’m here now, please leave this Brian guy and we can start over! I love you.” Now you shot up from the table too. “Are you kidding me! You think that after all this time you could just show up and expect me to take you back! I spent so much time crying over you and you didn’t care. Now that I am not only the best version of myself, but I am now happily with the love of my life you think you can show up, ask me to leave him and I’ll go with you? No! You can take all those crocodile tears and go cry me a river like I did over you a long time ago.” In all the commotion, you didn’t hear the front door open or close and the cats going to greet Q. Nor did you hear the footsteps making their way to the kitchen to hear what all the yelling was about. “Brian is the most amazing man in the world, and you will never be a tenth of the man he is! How dare you come here acting like you want me, now that I don’t need you or want anything to do with you.” Then a voice cut of your angry rant. “Aww baby! You really think I’m the most amazing man in the world?” You turned around to see your husband with a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. You ran over and jumped into his arms, while he spun you around in a hug. “Honey you’re home! How was your day? I-” You were soon cut off again by Dean. “Wait, you two live together?” You turned your head back to Dean. “Umm yeah. Married couples usually do.” “Wait, you’re married!” Brian then chimed in. “Yup, going on two years. Wait are you Dean?” Dean shook his head, and Brain placed you down gently. “Dude I gotta shake your hand man, cause if it wasn’t for you being a total asshole and idiot I may have never met Y/N. And she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He shook his hand vigorously. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe I have some lunch waiting for me and my beautiful wife. You can feel free to see yourself out.” With that Dean slumped his shoulders and began to make his way to the front door and you both heard the door open and close. You turned back to Brian and peppered kisses all over his face. “What’s all this for?” you motioned to the takeout and flowers. “Well, I felt so bad about you being here while I was in a meeting so one the way home I went to Chang’s and got our favorites, then I went by the flower stand and got these.” “Bri this is amazing! And I have a surprise for you too.” “Really? Well what is it?” You went back upstairs and grabbed one of the pregnancy tests and hid it behind your back. “Are you ready?” “Oh honey I was born ready!” “Okay, close your eyes, and stick out your hands.” Brian did as he was told and you placed the test gently into his hands. “Okay open ‘em!” Brian sprung his eyes open and looked down. He started at the test for a moment and then the gears started turning. Soon he was trying to get words out but couldn’t. “Y/N, are you?” “Pregnant? Uh-huh!” He grabbed you and picked you up again. ‘We’re gonna have a baby!” He kissed you yet again and set you down gently. The minute you were back on solid ground, his hands went straight to your tummy, and kisses soon followed. You both spent that evening cuddled up on your bed talking about the future until you fell asleep still intertwined and cats all around you both.

#brian quinn #Brian Q Quinn #brian quinn imagine #celebrity crush imagine #impractical jokers #impractical jokers imagine #imagine

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hannahcoursey · 4 years

Text

Jealous Minds Part 2

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,391

Request: Hi! Can I put in a request for a dean x reader? Dean and the reader are friends with benefits and neither want a relationship because they’re too much pressure for both of them being hunters. But then during a case, YN runs into an old boyfriend and they actually had a great relationship and broke up because he had to move for work and they both got out to catch up and Dean is super jealous because he wants that same type of relationship with her. (Sorry if it’s too much. LOVE YOUR WORK!!!)

PART ONE

A few hours had passed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for Daryn to pull into the gravel parking lot of the motel. You had put on a nice pair of jeans, without blood or holes, and a nice black tank top. You’d popped in a pair of earrings you always had sitting in the bottom of your bag that you never got to wear. With a few quick swipes of mascara, you were as dolled up as you were going to get. It wasn’t much, but you felt alright and put together for once and a small part of yourself wish you could do this more often. It was nice to feel pretty every now and then, but your lifestyle didn’t call for a nice manicure or decent clothes. Loud pounding on the door pulled you out of your thoughts, as you took one more look at yourself in the mirror before running to open it. The smile fell off your lips when the door revealed Dean. His face was hard, it was obvious he was in deep thought. When he looked up and saw you, his expression softened. The two of you stood there while he took every inch of you in. A heat rose to your cheeks and you cleared your throat.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked, leaning your arm on the door. Dean’s eyes shot up to yours and he slightly shook his head.

“I-I just wanted to come and,” he hesitated, licking his lips, “Wish you good luck on your date.” He finished. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Funny, Dean. See ya.” You turned to shut the door, but his hand sprawled across it.

“No, I mean it,” He nodded, “I know how much you cared about Daryn, I-I hope that it goes alright.” He said, letting his hand fall away from the door. You stared at him, your brows crunched in confusion of what sort of scheme he was playing at. His eyes darted back and forth between yours as your brain searched for words to string together to respond. When you didn’t say anything, his eyes fell to the ground and he nodded slow. “You look nice.” He said, his lips in a tight smile, “Anyways, have fun.” He finished, before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the doorway. You blinked, trying to process the words that’d just come from his lips. Your heart felt like a cinder block in your chest. You let your hand fall to the door knob and slowly pushed the door shut. You leaned against it, your mind running a million miles a minute. Across the room from you was a dusty mirror, only your reflection stared back at you. Why was your heart pounding in your chest? Why were you even going on this date? Was this even to be considered a date? Before you could answer any of the questions that rattled around in your mind, a loud knock from behind the door you were leaning against shook you out of the deep consciousness you’d fallen into with a jump. Maybe Dean was back - maybe he was going to tell you not to go, that the two of you would spend the rest of the night tangled up in the scratchy motel sheets, whispering throughout the night, stealing kisses on exposed skin. The thought alone had you ready to bolt out of your room to find him. You turned and opened the door, Dean’s name about to fall off your tongue, when your eyes fell on Daryn.

His eyes shimmered when he saw you, a smile lighting up his face. Your expression dropped for a moment, before you forced a smile. He pulled a small bouquet of roses from behind his back and flashed his picture perfect grin at you.

“Daryn, these are beautiful,” You shook your head and accepted the gesture, “You shouldn’t have.” You turned and set them down on the table beside you. He threw a hand up and waved.

“Hey, it’s the least I could do,” He laughed, as you pulled the door shut, locking it behind you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you as if he was memorizing every detail of your face. Color rose to your cheeks and you looked down. “You ready?” He asked, your eyes floating up to meet his again. You nodded and followed him as he walked over to his car, a new sporty car that surely was meant to be impressive. He walked with you to the passenger side and held open the door for you as you got in. Right as you sat down, you heard someone call your name from down the motel strip. You looked around, scanning for someone underneath the overhead flicking lights of the walkway until your gaze fell on Dean. He waved a hand at Daryn, who hesitantly waved in return.

“Have her back by midnight alright? Trust me, you don’t wanna see what she looks like when the fairy godmother’s spell wears off.” He laughed, throwing a wink in your direction sarcastically before turning towards the motel room door and walking in. Daryn pulled open the driver side door and slide in the low-riding seat. His eyebrows were crunched in confusion as he looked over at you.

“So, do you guys usually share rooms or?” He trailed off, the awkward tension in the air filling the small cabin quickly. You felt embarrassment rise to your face as you shook your head, trying to laugh it off.

“No, no, most definitely not, he just was probably grabbing something from the room, I guess,” You struggled to string together a sentence and rubbed your hands against your thighs nervously. Daryn let out a strangled laugh and started the car without saying anything more. You looked out your window, silently cursing the older Winchester as your heart fluttered at the thought of the things the two of you did behind locked motel room doors.

The ride to the bar was mostly quiet, the sound of the radio filling the spaces where neither of you could manage the right words to say. When you pulled up, Daryn escorted you to a booth in the corner. The place was packed. It was loud, lights strobing every second, making it hard for you to make out where you were walking, and you struggled to imagine how fun it would be to actually get drunk in this type of atmosphere. The bass music of the loud rap made your chest rumble and you found yourself yearning for a biker bar, squeezed between the boys at the bar while classic rock played from a jukebox.

“Y/N? Y/N/N?” Daryn said your name and you shook yourself out of your daydream.

“I-I am so sorry, was I spacing out?” You ran a hand through your hair and took a breath, letting out a light laugh, “Long day, you know how it goes.” You gave him a grin. He nodded and waved down the bartender before turning his attention back to you.

“I was just saying how great you looked tonight,” He said, his tone genuine and inviting. You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face thinking of the memories the two of you shared.

“Well thank you Daryn,” You tucked the hair behind your ears and leaned forward on the table, “You don’t look half bad yourself.” You beamed at him. Before he could answer, the bartender stepped up and asked for your orders.

“I’ll take a-” You began, but Daryn reached out and laid his hand on top of yours, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ll take a beer and the beautiful lady will have a Vodka Cranberry please, extra cranberry.” He told the bartender as she nodded and walked off. A feeling you couldn’t put a name to filled your chest. Was it nostalgia? Or was it disappointment? You flashed him a quick smile. “Not too bad for not seeing you for this long, I still remember your favorite drink.” He laughed, reaching over and grabbing your other hand with his other hand, focusing entirely on you.

“No, I’m impressed, that was pretty good. I gotta tell you though, I’m more of a whiskey bourbon kinda gal these past few years.” You said, trying not to visibly shiver as the thought of a Long Island Iced Tea hangover. His eyes grew wide for a moment before he let out a breath.

“Wow, you?” He shook his head, “Now that surprises me. You could hardly keep it down when we were younger.” He chuckled, bringing back memories of your high school days, sneaking around drinking your parents alcohol.

“Well yeah,” You snorted, “We were drinking rubbing alcohol it seemed like, we had the nastiest stuff.” You felt yourself thinking of all the times you’d use a fake ID to get the cheapest vodka you could find, only for it to taste twice as bad the second time later on in the night.

“Yeah, yeah, that led to some pretty rough nights,” He agreed, squeezing your hands softly, “But also some of the best nights too, you know?” He finished, his voice softening as his expression did. And there it was - that same pang in your chest. The more it happened, the more it began to feel like disappointment seeping through your lungs. He stared at you, his iri’s moving from your E/C eyes to your lips. You nodded and pulled your hands out of his, pretending to scratch the back of your neck. He leaned back in the booth, your mind grasping for things to talk about.

“So, what have you been up to? You were at State College for half the first year then disappeared off the face of the earth, no one knew where you went.” He pried, your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. God, anything but that question. You cleared your throat and tried to force eye contact, but the topic proved too difficult.

“T-That’s a very fair question,” You let out a laugh that came out more like a sigh, “I-I just needed some time off, I traveled for a while,” You said slowly, which wasn;t necessarily a lie, “And just needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.” You finished, trying to tell him as much of the half truth that was possible without getting too much into the nitty-gritty. It was true, technically. You did travel while hunting monsters with the brothers and you did struggle with what you wanted to do for awhile; keep fighting the good fight or take a stab at the apple pie life. He nodded slow, as if he was ingesting what you were telling him and you prayed he wasn’t overanalyzing it too much. The holes in your story would be too large for him not to notice how it didn’t add up. “Anyways,” You scrambled to try to change the subject, “What made you want to become a ranger? I never would have pegged you for the type.” You asked right as the bartender brought over your drinks. He smiled while looking down the neck of his beer, thinking of his answer. Before he had the chance, you phone rang in your pocket. You struggled to get it out of the small compartment of your tight jeans and threw a hand up to him and he nodded. The phone vibrated as Dean’s name flashed across the screen. Throwing your legs off the side of the booth, you made your way outside to answer.

“Dean?” You tried, holding the phone to one ear while you pressed a hand over the other. Mumbles came through the other end that sounded like gibberish. “Dean, I can’t hear you, gimme a second.” You said, hoping he could make out your words better than you could of his. As soon as your reached the parlor doors to the outside, you called his name again through the phone. “Okay, sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, shoving your hand in your pocket.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice raw, causing your heart to plummet, “Something’s wrong, you need to get back here,” He coughed, hardly audible on the other end.

“Dean, talk to me, what’s going on?” You asked, panic rising in your tone.

“J-Just come home,” He wheezed before the line went dead. Your hands shook slightly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You turned on your heel and ran through the crowd, bumping into people and elbowing your way through them. When you reached Daryn, his soft expression had turned to a look of confusion.

“Daryn, I have to get back, something’s wrong.” You shook your head, trying to settle your hands as Daryn quickly got up from his seat and threw a few bills down next to your untouched drinks. Without making sure he was following, you raced back to the front doors, beelining to his car. When the both of your reached it, you strapped yourself in and he drove off, leaving dust in the rearview. The drive back to the motel felt like it took hours. When you pulled up to the strip, you noticed the Impala still sitting outside and your feet were on the ground before the car was in park. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears, your eyes scanning the surroundings. You noticed your motel room light was on. You turned to Daryn.

“Listen, I really appreciate you taking me out tonight and I-I’m sorry it had to be cut short, but I need to make sure everythings alright.” You rushed through your words while you managed to throw him a smile over your shoulder.

“Y/N, I can stay and make sure- '' He bega, but the thought of what unnatural force could be inflicting pain onto Dean was enough to make you cut his speech off short.

“No, no, I got it under control - I can call you, you still have the same number?” You spoke fast, trying to politely get to your motel room as quickly as possible. Daryn looked at a loss for words. To see him scrambling to try to spend another minute with you made your chest heavy with guilt, but this was Dean at stake. You turned before he could answer and opened the door so quick, you almost hit the wall behind it yourself. You were in fight mode, ready to rip apart whatever was wreaking havoc, ready to patch up Dean if he needed it, a million thoughts going through your head. Taking in the scene in front of you, the breath you had in your lungs slipped from your lips.

The room was dimly lit by dozens of small candles of all different colors and heights. On the table next to you was the beautiful bouquet from Daryn and a simple rose sitting next to it. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands down his thighs. Your hand fell to your chest as you took a deep breath in.

“Dean,” Your eyes filled with tears that you begged not to slip down your face, “You scared the shit outta me.” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. Dean looked down at his hands.

“I-I know, I didn’t know how else to get you to come back,” He said, his voice low. You couldn’t believe the sight before you and you stood still, taking it all in. “Y/N, I should’ve done this a long time ago, but seeing you with Daryn” He said, shaking his head as he looked up at you, “ I couldn’t take it, watching you leave with him.” He stood up and crossed the small room to you, his hands picking up yours and rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. “I don’t have the fast car and the big bouquet and all that crap - but the way I feel about you,” He struggled to find the words and you knew that all of the effort he’d already put into this gesture was big for him, “What I can offer you is to always be there for you, to always stitch you up, to make sure you’re not alone when you wake up in the mornings - We don’t have to do this stuff alone Y/N and we’re crazy for thinking we had to.” He shook his head and his warm hand cupped your cheek. “I wanna do this with you, I mean it.” He finished, his eyes anxiously looking into yours, waiting for your response. Even in this lighting, his eyes were bright and lively, his nose peppered with the freckles you’ve loved since you noticed them the day you met him. Bringing your hand up to his other cheek, you pulled him in, your lips colliding together as if it were the first time. His other hand found its way to the side of your head and his fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you in, passion filling your every movement. You pulled away, a few tears making their way down your flush cheeks.

“I would love to Dean,” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, “I’ve been in love with you since I laid eyes on you.” You smiled, your heart beating loudly at the confessions the two of you were sharing. He leaned back and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

“God, me too sweetheart.” He mumbled into the kiss, before pulling away and taking in every inch of your face before letting go of your hands and moving to the bed. Out of a small plastic bag, he pulled out a few styrofoam containers. “Got you your favorite,” He spoke as he opened the containers, spreading them around the bed. Two burgers sat in their separate containers with fries, and a few slices of pie in the other. You walked over and sat on the bed with him as he laid the food out and sat next to you.

“Mhhh, bacon cheeseburger.” You took a deep breath in, the aroma of the greasy food filling the room. He rubbed your back, smiling.

“Extra bacon, the usual.” He laughed, still looking at you. You turned to him and kissed him once more, the feeling of his lips against yours making your heart drop to your toes. When you pulled away, his eyes were still shut, savoring every kiss the two of you shared.

“I am so in love with you, I hope you know.” You whispered, still close to his face. He blinked slow and a lazy grin crossed his features.

“I know.” He replied, his sarcasm causing you to throw your head back and let out a laugh.

“Good, I’m glad.” You replied, smacking his shoulder. He took a deep breath and looked at the candles around you.

“Now can I blow these out? It’s starting to smell like a friggin’ hallmark movie in here it’s nauseating.” He grumbled, your laugh filling the room as you shook your head at him.You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he went around to each of the candles and huffed them out.

You put on the tv and played the first movie that popped up and thought about all of the choices you’ve made in your life that got you to this exact moment. Life with the Winchester boys isn't for everyone. The life you lived was fast and dangerous, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. With Dean’s arms around you, shitty take out food in front of you and a whole life to share with him ahead, you found yourself filled with the sort of peace you didn’t think you’d ever get your hands on.

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Hope you guys liked it! My requests are always open!

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