#i was looking through my recordings and found a clip i took of this months ago so. might as well post it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qlala · 5 months

Note

Long casefic mentioned: screaming crying tearing at the walls of my enclosure

listen I know I've been sooo lock and key about this one for years because I wanted it to be perfect before I posted any WIP snippets, BUT... 2024 we are all learning to say "death to perfectionism," so december 2023, I am also saying "After all, why not? Why shouldn't I share a little snippet?"

setting notes for the below: a CCPD precinct, a few months after Flashpoint. (If you never got there in the show, don't worry about it; Len doesn't know what it means, either.) Barry and Len haven't seen each other since Len tipped him off to the Trickster ambush the previous Christmas, and as far as Barry knows, Len has been off with the Legends ever since. (He hasn't been.)

It was fascinating to watch Snart pull the Captain Cold bravado around his shoulders, even with his hands cuffed to an interrogation room table and no parka in sight. He rolled his shoulders back, slouched down in the chair—as far as the cuffs allowed—and crossed one ankle over his opposite knee. Then he rolled his bored gaze insolently in Barry’s direction and raised an eyebrow.

“Seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

Barry realized his mistake, a moment too late; as far as the CCPD was concerned, he and Snart had never met.

“Right,” Barry said. He wasn’t an officer, so protocol was fuzzy on whether he was supposed to introduce himself to an... inmate? Had Snart gotten himself arrested again?

Snart’s smirk deepened at his obvious floundering, so Barry looked to Joe instead.

Joe gave him the same resigned look he’d just received from Singh, but unlike Singh, Joe took pity on him. He flipped shut the file he’d been reading, then slid it across the table toward him.

It came to a stop within inches of Snart’s fingertips, and Barry saw him test the cuffs covertly as if considering intercepting it. Barry picked it up before he could try, throwing him a knowing glare.

Snart didn’t bother looking chastened.

The file, Barry noticed, was thicker than most that passed through the CCPD. When he flipped it open and saw the FBI seal emblazoned on the front page, he understood why.

A paper clip held a picture of Snart to the next page: a recent shot, judging from the hints of gray in his hair. Barry started to turn the page, then became aware of the twin looks of apprehension he was receiving from Joe and Snart. When he glanced questioningly at Snart, he looked away, feigning interest in his handcuffs. Barry looked to Joe instead, and felt a prickle of uneasiness when Joe only shook his head, knuckles pale where they were wrapped around the back of the empty metal chair across from Snart.

Barry flipped forward in the file. The next few pages were background on Snart, with no major changes from what Barry had expected. He was familiar with Snart’s rap sheet already, and the psychological profile they’d drawn up on him was about as accurate as a tabloid horoscope. He did feel an old pang of guilt when he passed a memo noting the unexplained disappearance of Snart’s electronic files, but it was getting easier to brush that feeling aside every time.

Unsurprisingly, the medical records from Iron Heights were sparse. Several pages were entirely blank, but there was a scribbled correction stapled to the bottom of one, noting, of all things, a severe food allergy to pineapples. Barry couldn’t help but grin at that; for such a mundane detail, it had apparently only recently been wrested from Snart, and with great effort.

He skimmed the rest of Snart's section. It was obvious that—tropical fruit allergies aside—the FBI knew less about Snart than he did. He pulled up short, however, when he turned to the next section and found another photograph clipped into the file.

“What is this?” He looked up at the answering silence, but Snart avoided his gaze, and Joe crossed his arms with obvious discomfort. “Joe?”

“Bartholomew," Snart interrupted, before Joe could answer, and Barry looked over at him in surprise. Snart gave him a slow, knowing smirk. “It is Bartholomew, isn’t it?”

No one had ever said his full name with such obvious relish, and Barry seriously considered throwing back a Lenny just to see how he liked it. But he caught himself in time, and he bit back an exasperated sigh.

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

It wasn’t very convincing, and a flicker of annoyance crossed Snart’s expression, obviously displeased that he wasn’t playing along with proper enthusiasm. Then the smirk was back, and Snart leaned back in his seat with an air of indifference.

Barry watched him suspiciously; he looked far too in control of the whole situation despite being the one handcuffed to the table.

“Feds didn’t tell me much,” Snart said. “But this…” He dragged his gaze down and back up Barry’s body in a long, appraising look. “This, I can work with.”

“Joe,” Barry repeated, pointedly ignoring Snart. There was a slightly hysterical edge to his voice, though, and Joe sighed and unfolded his arms.

“What do you know about the Morellos?”

Barry blinked; whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. The name was vaguely familiar, and it took him a few moments to put together where he’d heard it before.

“They’re an East Coast crime family,” he said, slowly. He looked to Joe for confirmation, and Joe nodded. “They practically ran Metropolis during Prohibition. Not much from them, since? I think they’re still active, but… they’ve mostly been pushed out by other Families.”

“Someone’s been listening to his podcasts.”

Joe didn’t so much as glance at Snart for the interruption, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Until recently, that was the case,” he said. “Members of the other Families have started dropping like flies, and the FBI thinks the Morellos are moving to take back power.”

Barry flipped through the file until he found a brief on the topic, and nodded for Joe to continue.

“Last year, they worked out some kind of alliance with the Russian mob,” Joe said, “and now they control ninety percent of the heroin passing through Metropolis. The FBI couldn’t figure out what they were trading for that kind of power, until they realized the drug deals were lining up with major art thefts in the city.”

Barry glanced up from the brief, thrown by the apparent non-sequitur. “What would the Russians want with stolen art?”

Snart snorted, and Barry turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Universal value,” Snart explained. He swept his palms in a broad gesture, though it was restricted by the limited reach of the handcuffs. “Markets crash, currencies fall. A Picasso stays a Picasso. And canvas is easier to smuggle than gold.”

There was a certain logic to it, though Barry suspected it was a lot more complicated than Snart was making it sound.

“And, what, you’re involved with this?” he asked.

Snart actually looked insulted. “Drug trade’s a nasty business,” he said, a curl to his lip despite his light, almost bored tone. “Messy work. Lotta bribes, lotta bodies. Hard to make a profit when the product keeps killing your buyers. Not my scene.”

“What’s this got to do with you, then?” Barry asked. He pulled the second picture out of the folder and held it up. “Or me?”

It was a copy of the photo from his CCPD identification. It was a few years old—his hair was longer on top, his shoulders a little narrower—and Snart’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Cute,” he said.

Barry rolled his eyes and slid the picture back into the file.

“Snart’s managed to get it into the FBI’s head that he’d make a good criminal informant. Apparently, he’s an expert in modern abstract expressionism,” Joe said, the last part clearly a quote. When Barry turned to him, surprised, Joe only shrugged. “I know. Surprised me too.”

“Learn all kinds of interesting things in my line of work,” Snart said, picking idly at the edge of his handcuffs. “Ab Ex dominates the market, has for decades. Post-War’s always in style. It's easy. People get it.”

His fingers didn’t curl around air quotes; they didn’t have to, his voice going vapid in a way that almost, almost pulled a smile out of Barry. Leonard Snart, closet art snob.

“Unspeakable horrors,” Snart continued, with a lazy, ‘and so on’ twirl of his fingers. “Expressible only through feelings over form…” He circled the gesture back the other way, with momentarily distracting, long-fingered grace. “Yada-yada-yada. Modern art fan, Bartholomew?”

He was having too much fun with the name, and Barry gave him a flat look for it.

“Barry.”

Snart’s lashes dipped on another once-over before he met his gaze again, eyes sharp and amused. “Pleasure.”

Barry didn’t need the way Snart leaned hard on the word, drawing it out even as his lips curled up at one corner, to tell him he’d walked right into that trap.

Snart lifted one hand and twisted the cuffs to extend the other out toward him, as close to offering a handshake as he could manage. “Leonard Snart. At your service.”

Doubt it, Barry thought. But he bit back the comment and crossed his arms instead, folding his hands pointedly against his sides, then said, “Yeah. I know.”

Snart’s eyebrows lifted at the slight, and he lifted both hands in surrender. “Ouch.” He dropped his lashes on a private smirk just to flick his gaze back up again, not finished with the taunt yet. “Thought we might have something in common. Civilian to civilian.”

Even the decades-old camera in the corner could probably pick up the amount of irony dripping from Snart’s voice, but Barry’s warning glance didn’t deter him in the least.

“What with you being an employee of the CCPD,” Snart said, tilting one hand in Barry’s direction before curling his fingers back to indicate himself, “and me being an employee of the FBI…”

“Criminal informant's not an employee.”

Barry didn’t jump at Joe’s correction, but it was a near thing. What was it about Snart that made it so easy to forget that there were other people in a room?

“Tomato, tomato,” Snart drawled. He didn’t so much as glance in Joe’s direction, attention still trained on Barry. “Feds want me to infiltrate the local underground in Metropolis, see if I can't rustle up a few Morello 'associates.’” That time, he did curl his fingers in quotation marks around the word. “I pass along the names, the feds arrest them. Everybody goes home happy.” He paused, then added, “Morellos excluded.”

Barry was tempted to ask Snart how long he’d been waiting for him to ask, but he had more pressing questions. “And you agreed to help, what, out of the goodness of your heart?”

Snart leaned across the table towards him with a dangerous smile, handcuffs scraping pointedly over the metal surface.

“Let’s agree to disagree about the goodness of my heart,” he said, and any lingering concerns that Barry might've had about Snart might not know exactly who he was disappeared at the private gleam in his eyes over those words. “But no. Feds had a little chat with the District Attorney here in Central City. Detective West knows the details, but—“ He drummed his fingers on the table, then ticked his head toward one shoulder in a shrug. “Like I said. Everybody goes home happy.”

When Barry looked at Joe for clarification, Joe shifted his hands to his hips before pulling his glare away from Snart, one hand settling pointedly beside his gun.

“The Mayor of Metropolis reached out to our governor," Joe said. "They’re talking pardons.”

“Yahtzee.”

There were a hundred follow-up questions Barry could’ve asked. But Snart was clearly still enjoying himself too, and Barry wasn't in the mood for more roundabout non-answers. So Barry turned his back on Snart and faced Joe head-on.

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “What's my role here?”

“For the record," Joe said, slowly, almost placatingly, "I told Singh this was a terrible idea.”

Joe hedging was never a good sign, and for the first time, Barry felt the stirrings of real apprehension in his chest.

“You told Singh what was a terrible idea?”

#:) ehehe #coldflash #my fics #writing this has really been like #me @ the fic: [mrs bennet voice] have you no compassion for my poor nerves?#the fic @ me: [mr bennet voice] my dear i have the highest respect for your nerves. they have been my constant companions these many years #also thank u so much for asking about this! i am posting this snippet for You specifically :)

54 notes · View notes

romanceandstarlight · 7 months

Text

Fictober 2023 Day 7

Prompt: 7 (“Do you recognize this?”) Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Neuvillette and Wriothesley Rating: G Warnings: None

It had been months since Wriothesley went to the overworld. Of course he knew what was going on up there, because he always did. But hearing about trials and the goings-on of his friends up on the surface was different from being able to see them for himself.

It almost made him want to leave the Fortress of Meropide more. Almost.

He had come up with Sigewinne. For once, he wasn’t up there because he himself had business. She had plans to visit some of her Melusine sisters, and Wriothesley figured a few hours away wouldn’t throw the entire fortress into any more anarchy than it usually was in day-to-day. He’d left Sigewinne to visit Elynas and come back to find him when she was done.

Given that he had no business, he fell back on his favorite pastime: stretching out on a couch in Neuvillette’s office while he worked.

“Just how many cases do you have stored here, anyway?” he asked after about fifteen minutes of silence between them.

“It varies. I never have the records for everything here, but sometimes I do switch things out if I think an older case will be relevant.”

Curious, Wriothesley got to his feet and started nosing around on the shelves and in the drawers. He knew Neuvillette was fine with him doing so. He often let people search through his archives if they thought there was something they needed.

When he got to a certain drawer and opened it, though, he paused for just a moment before pulling out what he’d found.

“Do you recognize that?” Neuvillette didn’t even look up from his work.

In Wriothesley’s hands was a preserved newspaper clipping with a picture of himself and Sigewinne, as well as Neuvillette, though he was in the background, seemingly talking to someone off-camera.

“That silly article the Steambird did when I took over the Fortress.”

“That’s right.”

“Any reason you kept this?”

“Well, it was one of your proudest moments. And one of mine as well.”

Wriothesley quickly put the article back where he found it and crossed the room to the couch he’d been relaxing on. That was enough embarrassment for today.

———————

Like my writing? I’d love if you’d leave me a tip on my Ko-Fi!

#fictober23 #genshin fic #genshin impact fic #neuvilette genshin #wriothesley #wriolette

19 notes · View notes

usafphantom2 · 9 months

Text

May 1973: My first combat mission with the F-4 over Cambodia

Diego Alves By Diego Alves 05/21/23 - 09:00 in History, War Zones

This year is a significant anniversary for me: it was 50 years ago that I flew on my first combat mission. In May 1973, I flew through Thailand and entered Cambodian airspace. At the time, there was a lot of pressure from the Khmer Rouge communists in Cambodia to take control of the country; it was our job to avoid this.

The plan was to allow South Vietnam to achieve stability after the early 1973 ceasefire with the North.

I knew I would be flying on bombing missions over Cambodia immediately. My leader told me that I could expect to fly on missions of three to four hours every day. There was an effort to get a combat flight before the end of the month, so that I could receive my "payment for dangerous service" plus $65 per month to fly in combat. Not much, even for those days. On May 28, I made my orientation flight to the combat zone, my call code was "South 40", as we flew over Thailand and briefly entered Cambodian airspace.

In his first month in Cambodia, John E. Norvell flew 18 combat missions.

After the orientation, each combat flight would start like this. First, he checked the flight schedule published the night before the mission to be sure of the time of the "show". Then, the next day, I would take the "bluebird" bus to the squad. So, I found my interception officer and informed our ward about what we would do. Then we went to Intel (the intelligence section) for a quick summary of the threat. At this point, about two hours passed. So we went to the equipment room to wear our costumes.

Dressing up, I made sure I had my Geneva Convention card, which we would carry if we were slaughtered and taken prisoner. So I took my survival equipment and camouflaged helmet; I checked my survival radios. I removed my wedding ring and badge from my flight suit and locked them in my closet. I did this so as not to have information about myself if I was shot down, to help the enemy.

Then I checked and carried a 38 caliber revolver, which I carried in a holster attached to my leg, gunman style. Then we all boarded what we call the "bread truck", along with other crews, to go to the aircraft parked in the buttress. Once in our "designated bird", we did the standard walk before the flight. This pre-flight was exactly as we did in Luke AFB, except that I had to check real bombs and missiles.

F-4 Phanton Cockpit: The "cargo dumb"

Our standard charge was the 500-pound dumb bomb Mark 82, as shown in my 8 mm film clip on the left. We could charge up to 18 Mark 82s. We also had two Aim-9 Sidewinder infrared-guided missiles and two Aim-7 Sparrow radar-guided missiles.

While checking them, I looked for leaks under the Phantom. I had to be careful, because it was easy to hit my head and take a "ghost'sbite". Also hung below were the RHAW and jammer pods. The RHAW (Radar Homing and Warning) warned us if the enemy had stopped on our aircraft with SAMS (Surface to Air Missiles). Although possible, it was not a significant threat to our missions.

Once in the cockpit, I put on my G-suit and connected a recorder to our intercom that recorded our mission. Later, we would give the tape to the intelligence staff if there were any questions. Then it was the standard triggering of the radar, aligning the INS and checking the RHAW. While I was sitting there, the team leader helped me with the parachute connections and pulled the pins of my ejection seat; now, it was hot and ready to shoot. I activated the frequency for the soil control. We received authorization and taxied. Then we go down to the weaponry area adjacent to the active runway. There, the ammunition team pulled the safety pins from the bombs. Then takeoff.

The rains flooded the area around Udorn most of the year and, as we went up, I could see the storms in the distance. We are now on our way to our meeting with the refueling plane and the mission of the day.

I wrote for home:

We bombed Cambodia - it's a funny feeling to use real bombs. The mission lasted 3 and a half hours and we had to refuel three times, a big difference from Luke. I'm getting a combat payment now. It's raining a lot; we're at the monsoons station. I had to have three special flight overalls made, two for work - green and light - and one black coverall for the party. I caught a cold at Jungle survival... there are 348 days left.

In my first month, I flew 18 combat missions.

Over time, I became introspective.

On the crew bus early in the morning, I often thought about how many men had boarded the crew bus to never come back that night. I never told anyone that I thought I could die. The mission was more important, and that was all that mattered. Maybe I wasn't alone in my feelings; all the troops that went into combat, no matter when or where, thought they could die. It was a thought that didn't last long.

I am forever connected to the veterans who served. When I flew in combat, fifty years ago, I became part of this combat fraternity. This changed my life forever.

John E. Norvell is a retired USF lieutenant colonel, a Vietnam War air combat veteran and a former assistant professor of American and Military History at the U.S. Air Force Academy. He wrote as a freelancer for the Washington Post, the Middle Tennessee Journal of Genealogy and History and for several newspapers throughout the US.

Via An American Family

Tags: CambodiaVietnam WarHISTORYMcDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom IIWar Zones

Sharing

Diego Alves

Related news

MILITARY

Poland buys Swedish early warning aircraft for $58 million

26/07/2023 - 13:00

AERONAUTICAL ACCIDENTS

Nine dead after Antonov crashed at Port Sudan airport

24/07/2023 - 13:00

HISTORY

The best U.S. fighters that were ALMOST placed on aircraft carriers

03/07/2023 - 00:49

BRAZILIAN AIR FORCE

MUSAL: KC-390 transports replica of the first airplane in history

26/06/2023 - 17:33

HISTORY

Aircraft used in 'death vows' returns to Argentina

25/06/2023 - 12:06

MILITARY

In the latest aid package, the US sends new missiles to Ukraine

01/06/2023 - 12:00

homeMain PageEditorialsINFORMATIONeventsCooperateSpecialitiesadvertiseabout

Cavok Brazil - Digital Tchê Web Creation

Commercial

Executive

Helicopters

HISTORY

Military

Brazilian Air Force

Space

Specialities

Cavok Brazil - Digital Tchê Web Creation

16 notes · View notes

cyarsk52-20 · 11 months

Text

The "Vanderpump Rules" Finale Reveal Of "Scandoval" Had My Jaw On The Floor The Entire Time

BuzzFeed Staff

Well, well, well. Here we are. Another week, another deeply unhinged yet fascinating look into Raquel Leviss and Tom Sandoval's hidden-yet-not-so-hidden monthslong affair. Except this week, aka the finale, IT'S ALL COMING OUT!!!!! And we finally get to see this moment fully play out:

It hurts my heart to see Ariana Madix go through this, but we also have to acknowledge that this pure rage and emotion captured will change the course of reality TV as we know it!

All of that to say, the finale episode of Vanderpump Rules Season 10 aired last night, and it's time to GET INTO IT.

This week's episode — Season 10, Episode 15, titled "#Scandoval" — is the finale we have ALL been waiting for. And it kicks off immediately with a clip from the infamous Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohenepisode that had Scheana Shay and Raquel (and Raquel stating that Sandoval is the hotter Tom) mere hours before the Scandoval news broke around the world. And already, my blood pressure has been raised and my armpits are sweating.

Then we get an immediate split screen of Ariana and Tom Sandoval, who are both "not ready" to talk about this but begin talking about it anyway, thank god. The phone story rumor is proved true, with Sandoval recounting that his phone "fell out of his pocket" during his appearance at a concert for his band (which no one cares enough about to remember the name of, sorry) at Tom Tom, and someone then gave it to Ariana for "safekeeping." Ariana said she felt she needed to look at the phone.

"Call it woman’s intuition, call it light bulb, call it whatever,” Ariana says. “Literally in that moment, I went, I need to look at this.” What she saw on the phone's camera roll was a FaceTime screen recording of her partner of nine years and "best friend" Raquel. “My stomach dropped into my fucking ass."

Sandoval said, "I would normally delete something like that, but it had been such a busy, chaotic day," which is, like, both a wild thing to say and something that feels like it was meant to establish that he didn't spread this intentionally. From there, he apparently took Ariana outside away from other people inside Tom Tom, and she then called Raquel demanding to know what happened.

Scheana says that Raquel — who was with Scheana in New York City after their WWHL appearance — then "nonchalantly" approached her and told her that she and Sandoval had been having an affair for seven months and Ariana had just found out. The fact that she could be so nonchalant about this is shocking, but I have a feeling it's the least shocking thing we're about to learn in this episode.

From here, we get a few random scenes of the cast in what I assume is "present day" timing, aka when the news of the affair had already broken. James Kennedy is cooking and Tom Schwartz is washing his face, which is a relief for a man who is known for bathing in a river on his wedding day.

We then end up back at Ariana and Tom's shared home in Valley Village, where they are still living together. Ariana is with her good friend Meredith on the couch, and Ariana is drinking wine straight from the bottle. A bottle, we soon find out, that was purchased on Tom and Ariana's very first trip together. The scene is so incredibly uncomfortable, you can *feel* the tension as a viewer, and it only becomes more intense to watch when Tom Sandoval dares to show his face, asking Ariana if she "wants anything." She replies with her now famous line of, "For you to die."

Chills. Already! Fucking chills.

Tom Sandoval sits down for a conversation with Ariana, where she reminds him that he STILL has not even apologized. He says, "Every time I try to apologize, you get angry." I'm sorry, but no fucking shit, Tom Sandoval. She is angry. I am angry. We are all fucking angry! He also tells Ariana he "didn't want to hurt [her]" before referring to her as "dude."

Ariana then reminds Sandoval that she has been in his life for YEARS — before they even began dating — and that she loved him when he had nothing and was driving a 1997 Honda Civic. She even says, "I loved you then. When you had nothing." She then tells him he just wants someone to "gas [him] up." She is not wrong, and it is so satisfying to watch her tell him what we've all been thinking.

Tom Sandoval tries to explain himself, and as much as I do not want to listen to a fucking word this man says, I am listening intently for this recap through gritted teeth. He refers to himself as "selfish," and Ariana reminds him that this is the nicest word he could use. And then we finally get the full context from the scene shown in the trailer: "I don't give a fuck about fucking Raquel. Your friendship is fucking bullshit." Ariana is honestly so FUCKING GOOD IN THIS SCENE!!!! It is both so hard to watch, and so incredible. Hard only because it's difficult to see such an incredible person treated this way.

Tom Sandoval then goes on the defensive and tells Ariana that his and Raquel's friendship is "real" because she "treats him with respect," which is "something he hasn't gotten from [Ariana] in a long time." Sandoval tries to claim it "wasn't about fucking" but was about them "giving each other confidence," which is possibly the most deranged thing I've heard in this episode thus far. Ariana points out that he's blaming her, and he tries to say he isn't. In case we have not established my feelings about this scene already: I hate this man and his bullshit excuses.

Somehow, the audacity of this fucking man continues, and he tries to tell Ariana all the reasons he did what he did, including, "We had no sex life." I am no relationship expert, but that's probably in large part due to the fact that you were fucking HER BEST FUCKING FRIEND, DUDE.

Ariana says that when couples go through shit, they go through it together, and his choice to sleep with her friend is not how you handle a relationship rough patch. Which, like, my god??? The fact that she even has to say this to him???????

He then claims that he "tried" to break up with her "two weeks ago" and she "wouldn't let him." Ring the alarm, everyone. Tom Sandoval is the world's biggest victim. Boo fucking hoo. You have been on a reality TV show since 2013, and as a main cast member since day one. If you really wanted to leave, Tom Sandoval, I promise you could have figured it out. Like, has he not heard of Two Men and a Truck? I know there are multiple hotels in the valley that your stupid ass could have stayed in!!!!!! Let's stop pretending you were held hostage in a relationship with a woman who you should be so lucky even LOOKED YOUR WAY.

Ariana continued and says, "I was ride or fucking die for you. And I had her back as well. And the fact that she has continued to smile in my face while smiling on FaceTime with you is one of the most god-awful, disgusting things I have ever heard." She's right. I honestly still can't believe these two humans were capable of doing this to someone they claimed to love.

Ariana is flawless in this scene, despite her obvious grief, and tells Tom, "You're worth nothing. And I want you to feel that, deep in your soul. I want you to hear that. I regret ever loving you." I actually wanted to stand up and yell at my TV and applaud.

They are both crying now, and unexpectedly, so am I. BUT NOT FOR TOM. Ariana says, through tears, "I was 100% committed to you; I would have followed you anywhere." Tom says that he never thought this would happen and she can think whatever she wants, but "they had some really good times." And with that, this scene ends.

We've now moved on to a scene of just Tom Sandoval and Tom Schwartz — two of the worst men in the history of Bravo — and Sandoval immediately starts dramatically crying and apologizing to Schwartz. The fact that this man is more apologetic to Schwartz than he was to Ariana has me seeing fucking red. Be fucking for real, Tom Sandoval.

Schwartz seems mostly upset about the fact that their restaurant — Schwartz and Sandy's — has gone from "4.8 stars on Yelp to 1 star." No offense, but I don't think this man's dalliances are the only reason. The lobster corn dogs aren't very good. Schwartz then asks Sandoval to "post about this" online and make it clear that he, Schwartz, didn't agree with this. Except that I don't believe that for one fucking second. And also, IS THAT REALLY THE PRIORITY RN???

Sandoval starts trying to explain his actions AGAIN and tells Schwartz that after guys night, he and Raquel went to the Abbey and they kissed, and he "felt something in that moment that he hadn't felt in a very long time." He then claims that he and Ariana have had issues FOR FIVE YEARS. Which is a HELL OF A LONG TIME to to stay in a relationship and PURCHASE A HOME WITH SOMEONE if you're so fucking miserable. Stop pretending you were held hostage — like, I actually cannot. He actually has the audacity to blame Ariana FOR NOT FOLLOWING HIM to see where he was going. Which is like a whole new level of fucked up that I wasn't prepared for.

BTW, Schwartz refers to this as "relatable." SHUT UP. And then says that "just for being Sandoval's friend and business partner, he's canceled." Sweetie, I wish that were true, because then we could stop seeing your miserable little face every week. However, you were not canceled, you are just fine, and more importantly, none of this IS ABOUT YOU!!!!!

Back to Ariana, and she is in her home surrounded by her friends. I am happy to see that she has support. Scheana shows up in a white, furry bucket hat and immediately starts crying, telling Ariana that she doesn't deserve any of this. Not that anyone does deserve this, but she is so, so right. Katie Maloney also shows up, and there are more tears and hugs, and I am feeling more emotional than I was prepared for.

Katie and Scheana say they can "put their shit aside" to be there for Ariana, and I am reminded about the hotel/wedding beef of this season between Katie and Scheana, which now feels like it happened approximately 15 years ago.

Ariana tells Katie and Scheana exactly what happened — including the fact that the FaceTime that outed the affair happened while Sandoval was at Schwartz's apartment, so spare me your fake concern, Schwartzy. She also shared that Raquel told her that the affair started "right after the girls trip," which is also when Ariana's dog, Charlotte, was dying. Fucking cold-blooded.

She at first said they "just kissed," but Tom Sandoval later admitted that they "fucked in her car that night," and then he didn't have a key to get inside and Ariana had to let him inside after he RANG THE DOORBELL.

Scheana begins to share what happened at the post- WWHL NYC bar hangout that we now know ended up in a restraining order from Raquel. She said she was "so angry" and that she "shoved her so fucking hard away from [her]." But Raquel is telling people that she punched her. Scheana then gives a demonstration of how she is physically incapable of punching with her nail length. Iconic. This is why she is a born reality star and deserves all of our respect.

Katie also shares that Tom Schwartz "obviously" knew about it. And this is part of the reason why he has literally always been the worst.

We're now at James Kennedy and Ally's apartment, and James shares how nervous he is. He says he isn't even that mad about Raquel but can't believe Tom Sandoval would do this. He says he has always looked up to him in a way, and even breaks down in tears during his confessional. James, BTW, is obviously the #1 guy in the group.

Lala Kent and Katie then show up to discuss further, and Lala shares that she really did suspect this for a long time. They all agree that this is certainly not the first time Tom Sandoval has slept around on Ariana because "no one chooses a best friend for the first time." Lala also shares that there was a rumor years ago involving Sandoval and former cast member Billie Lee. BTW, fun fact: I was once in a BuzzFeed videowith Billie Lee, and while this has absolutely nothing to do with anything, who doesn't love a fun fact!

James then straight-up CALLS Raquel, who answers, which is wild to me. Those producers sitting next to her, making sure she answers her ex-fiancé's call while a camera is on them, all really deserve a raise. Raquel informs James that she and Sandoval are "not an item," and that losing her friends has been "eye-opening." LMAO. Like, in what way, girlie? That consequences have actions?????

Things take a turn, and James basically calls Raquel stupid, which I can't entirely blame him for in this moment. He also says, and I quote, "You've done diddly fucked yourself over. And like, all the people you were building friendships with, you've trashed it for, like, Sandoval's little cocky cock. Like, his stinky 40-year-old cock? Seriously, Raquel?" LMAOOO.

Oh my god. We are now in Raquel's apartment in North Hollywood, which has galaxy lights *everywhere* and a sign above her sink that says "C'est la vie Paris" for some reason. I am not sure I am breathing. Tom Sandoval shows up, and they ask each other if they're OK while taking shots and drinking beer. Spare me. They then toast to "being in hell," and Tom Sandoval says, "Where we belong." Raquel then says they don't deserve to be in hell, because they're just two friends who fell in love. MMMM, not sure it's quite that simple, but sure, I guess!

Tom Sandoval then accidentally refers to Raquel as "Ariana," and it is both awkward and really fucking funny to me. They then begin discussing their families, and Sandoval shares that Raquel's mom "really fucking hates him." She is definitely not the only one.

Raquel asks Tom Sandoval about his family and he says, "They love you." But Raquel thought he said, "I LOVE YOU," and she says it back! I'm sorry, but you're in LOVE NOW?????? BFFR!!!!! Raquel says they always agreed they wouldn't do this if it wasn't "worth it." They embrace and then almost kiss, but both agree that they don't feel comfortable kissing on camera. I mean, you felt comfortable enough fucking each other IN A CAR OUTSIDE THE HOME YOU SHARED WITH ARIANA, so why stop now???

In a talking head interview, Raquel says she was "just so curious to know what it was like to be physical with someone you loved." And that she did "not have the willpower to not see him." We know. It genuinely does not seem that Raquel has ANY remorse, and it is CHILLING.

They then try to show the "injury" Raquel has on her face from Scheana, which is honestly so tiny, it's hard to see. Raquel says Scheana "definitely did" punch her, but she "took it like a champ." Tom seems to agree, despite the fact that he was quite literally not even there. And while I do not support physical violence, I also have some questions about how this all went down after seeing Scheana's amazing display of how her hands worked earlier in the episode. I also would love to know how "taking it like a champ" equals "filing a restraining order," but I digress!

Raquel says that she feels "so alone" and she only has her parents, Tom Sandoval, and her sister, but that she's not entirely sure she can count on Sandoval, considering that he cheated on his partner of nine years and he may do the same to her. Is this...LOGIC??? Also, all of these things could have been considered like, mmmm, seven months or so ago.

They then laugh together while being like, "He-he-he, oopsie, we fucked up," and it's like, you realize you didn't, like, forget your clothes in the washer for a few days, right? You betrayed your best friend!

We are now at Villa Rosa for the required Lisa Vanderpump scene. Ariana shows up in a very emotional state — and my GOD, who could ever blame her — and LVP offers genuine emotional support despite the fact that I know on some level, in her producer era, she is somewhat thrilled that this happened to her show. Ariana shares that she's been trying to "lean into her anger" because otherwise, she cannot function at all with all of this emotional pain. LVP asks if Schwartz knew (he fucking did!!!), and Ariana says she doesn't know but he had finally reached out that morning with a half-assed text that included the line, "I don't wanna kick my guy when he's down." Once again, the fucking audacity of these men.

Ariana says that Tom Sandoval is "not down," and she is correct. What exactly is going wrong for Sandoval? His restaurant had a few 1-star reviews? Boo fucking hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The text in question, btw:

Ariana is obviously emotional, and I think you would genuinely have to be heartless not to feel some of her pain in this moment.

We are now back at Katie's apartment for a scene with Tom Schwartz, my second-least-favorite Tom at the moment. Katie point-blank asks him, "How long have you known?" He says, "I don't know; I didn't mark it on the calendar," which is definitely something someone who was lying would say!

Tom Schwartz is really sticking with the storyline that he told Tom Sandoval he should end things with Raquel when he found out "just a month ago." Katie tells him that she knows he is lying and that he should tell the truth for once. He finally shares that he "knew about the one-night stand," which was obviously not a one-night stand. He also says that Sandoval "tried to break up" with Ariana. Again with the "tried." Sure, breaking up with someone may not be fun, but it is really easy to do before you fuck someone's best friend for seven months and counting. Schwartz once again brings up their fucking bar and how "hard" this is on THEM, and I seriously could not be more relieved when this scene ended because I could once again feel my blood pressure rising.

We are back at Ariana and Tom's shared home, and OH MY GOD, THOSE LEGGINGS... IT'S KRISTEN DOUTE TIME, EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! My god, I never thought I would be this excited to see Kristen back on my screen. They sit down to chat, and I am giddy with excitement and then reminded that the situation is actually very sad, and I feel bad.

Ariana and Kristen compare the similarities between their relationships with Tom Sandoval, and Ariana apologizes that she defended Sandoval "at Kristen's sake." Kristen will hear none of this, and they then move outside to "burn some shit." Kristen, you fucking icon.

Now we have another required LVP scene, except this time it's Tom Sandoval at Villa Rosa. Sandoval immediately goes in with his whole "I didn't want to hurt Ariana" shtick, and it's like, even if that were true, the whole point is that you fucking did! YOU DID HURT HER! SO NOW WHAT!!!!!!!!

Tom Sandoval says that he and Raquel "had every intention of telling Ariana before the reunion," which is, like, very convenient now that it was done for them. Sandoval says he is hesitant to share details because he doesn't want to hurt Ariana more, and then he has a full breakdown, which should make me feel bad but ultimately makes me feel nothing. I do hope he finds whatever it is he is looking for and leaves women out of it.

Sandoval shares that he wants Ariana to "get the love she deserves" before LVP says that he's "not a bad person, he just did a bad thing." Truthfully, I really don't know if I agree with this at this point, but I do hope he changes.

Now a group scene. It's Lala (in her "Send it to Darrell" sweatshirt), Katie, Charli Burnett, Scheana, and Scheana's sister. Ariana also shows up and comments that it "feels like a death." I honestly can't believe Ariana is even standing right now, much less filming. And then we find out that this was filmed the same day that the temporary restraining order was filed against Scheana. After the women speak for a bit, the second-worst Tom on this planet, Tom Schwartz, has the audacity to show his face. He asks Ariana to speak before noting that "he used to have a bar and cocktail lounge." YOU ARE NOT THE VICTIM HERE, BRO.

Ariana agrees to speak with him one-on-one but lets Schwartz know that she is not here to hear anything about him being "down" or sad. Schwartz and this fucking business, he can't stop bringing it up, and Ariana notes that Tom Sandoval apologized to the business BEFORE HE APOLOGIZED TO HER.

Schwartz says that he isn't looking for sympathy — an obvious lie — but that he's not a co-conspirator. Ariana says that she understands but she will not have mutual friends with Tom Sandoval, so Schwartz's and her friendship ends here. Ariana says that she wishes she didn't miss him but what she misses isn't real.

And for the final scene of what is absolutely going to be considered one of the best episodes of reality television in history, we get a sit-down between Scheana and Tom Sandoval. Say what you will, but Scheana is instrumental to this show, and it feels fitting that this is where this explosive season ends. Sandoval says, "I was going to break up with Ariana regardless." And Scheana responds, "But you didn't — you fucked her best friend instead." CHILLS.

Tom Sandoval then finallllllyyyyyyyyyyy admits that he did, in fact, sleep with Miami Girl, which, tbh, we all knew. He also claims that Ariana knew the truth about this all along and that there was "one other time." When asked if it was "just a random person," he says yes, then changes his mind and says no but won't go into it further. Only adding fuel to the fire of those Billie Lee rumors...

Sandoval claims that Ariana "threatened to kill herself" when he "tried to break up with her," once again putting the blame on Ariana in a situation that is most definitely not her fault. We all knew he would do this, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch it play out. The scene ends, I still have full body chills, and then we get a preview for the reunion. I genuinely can't even breathe right now.

And with that, this finale ends. I'll see you back here next week for REUNION PART 1!!!! And in the meantime, let's all try to emotionally prepare.

And be sure to catch new (and old!) episodes of Vanderpump Rules on Peacock!The "Vanderpump Rules" Finale Reveal Of "Scandoval" Had My Jaw On The Floor The Entire Time Tom Sandoval accidentally calling Raquel "Ariana" is something I may never recover from, TBH.

Read in BuzzFeed: https://apple.news/A_PYXWt0XTomdew5npNvytQ

Shared from Apple News

Sent from my iPhone

2 notes · View notes

godstrain · 9 months

Note

Rex’s Gardening Service here.

Loamy Soil:

Your passions outside of role play seep through in your writing; you bring an intellectual edge to your words, and it’s very satisfying to see. You’re also a very sweet person, and I hope you get to know you better.

Sunlight:

I’m just so impressed with your portrayal of Albert Wesker. This is a character I’ve loved for well over a decade, and yet I find myself loving him more and more through your muse. You don’t pull any punches, but you also don’t— hesitate to get down and dirty with his trauma and his struggles. Don’t ever change.

Drizzle from the watering can:

Tell us a self-indulgent headcanon that you have about your muse.

th,,, h

holy shit rex im going to fuckn cry???? what the fuck this is so sweet of you!!!!

but im going to get super real here.

honestly, when i first jumped into the RE rabbit hole, i was worried that i wouldn't be able to do wesker justice- and you know my track record of muses well enough from seeing me in the pokemon fandom lmao- and it's not like i haven't written characters that are sorta wesker-adjacent before, because i have, and still there was this lingering doubt which i will guess is due to the fact i had also never really been in a horror franchise because i had so much that i was afraid of. fear, i have found, really does hold people back, and i basically had to supreme exposure therapy myself and even then i was having a time.

that was ... may 5th, 2023. the day i decided to bite the bullet and make wesker a blog and write a character from a franchise i literally knew NOTHING about. and that's not often my style. i am a perfectionist at heart- proud and rather critical of my work, wanting to always put out my best and show that i know exactly what the hell i'm talking about. i'm a researcher and scholar just as much as i am an artist and writer- i accept nothing but 100%, and in the past, i would spend countless hours doing research before writing a goddamn thing, i'd comb through my rp partner's blogs for metas so i could make something unique for their portrayal (and that is something i still do and will always do), and then when everything was in place, i'd post a goddamn reply. i usually read at least 5 scholarly articles about a topic that i want to tie into a muse before writing a meta. i put my professional resources to use to bring life to my fiction.

but with wesker, i just went headfirst in. i didn't master the lore. i skimmed a wiki page and watched a few clips from various iterations of his character. i took a look at his tag on tumblr and twitter (and promptly was like mkay can't handle this right now). i read the wiki page a little more closely, and then i took the leap of faith, hoping that all the things i had learned from past characters and all the knowledge i had accumulated and all the experiences i've had working in the inpatient psych unit would be enough. i am not the type to leave anything unattended. this was wildly unlike me.

and i am so glad i did this, and more than that i am so, so honored that you have found more things to love about wesker through my portrayal. the portrayal that didn't get the same perfectionist treatment before it even saw the light of day. wesker, whose lore i have explored rather extensively in the ... what uh. 3 months i have been writing him- there's so much i still have to learn, and so much i want to explore. i see art as it should be: a mirror of life and society. the truth is, albert wesker could be anyone. that pain and suffering and horrible upbringing is a thing that happens. he's so painfully alive in that way. it's hard to look at the truth like that, but i also sure hate ignorance, in myself and in others. we cannot learn if we do not see. so i don't hold my punches, and i don't hide the aspects of him that i know sometimes would be cut out. there's so much i have learned from writing wesker- about how i write, what i expect of myself, and how i can better myself in so many ways, and i never expected to learn through this.

so thank you. thank you so much for this, it means more than i could possibly put into words.

on the note of self-indulgent meta analysis, i want you to know that i picked "wilde" for wesker's original surname because of my love for oscar wilde. it's a common theme in my metas where i will throw in something as a treat for myself like that. i picked cambridge, ma, for his birthplace because i live nearby, and there's something about having a character you love "nearby" that is??? sorta serotonin inducing. you know, in the style of tolkien's desire of dragons- "I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighborhood. But the world that contained even the imagination of Fáfnir was richer and more beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril." and for me, i guess it's something like that. i keep the things i find the most interesting close in some form, yeah?

#chounaifu #writing is hard ╱ out #ONE DAY THERE WILL BE ASSOCIATED WITH MY NAME THE RECOLLECTION OF SOMETHING FRIGHTFUL‚ OF A CRISIS LIKE NO OTHER BEFORE ╱ META

1 note · View note

humanistic-horsemanship · 11 months

Text

Rambunctious Rainbows

I found Kiara as an untouched two year old in 2018, from an ad on the internet. She was out of an Amish bred haflinger mare and by a gypsy grandson of The Lion King (hence her name, Kiara), and when I drove out to meet her she was so afraid of people that she would turn and try to kick you in the head if you got within 8 feet of her. I'd been looking for my partner for months...and finding it next to impossible to find a project over the age of 18 months who wasn't already in saddle training (stop riding your effing two-year-olds). And I don't know, I saw something in this gangly little tangle-mane. She had something special...a spark. So I arranged transport and brought her home a few weeks later, at the end of August. I called her the Rainbow Pony. My little unicorn.

I spent the first two months of our time together just trying to get her to come up to me. I approached her almost as a do-over of Rain: using my hindsight to come at the gentling process in a new way. I sat with a pan of grain in my lap and just talked to her until she came over to me, and used the grain to associate me with good things. Within a few weeks I was able to inch close enough while standing to rub on her shoulder and spray some Vetericyn on the scratches she had developed from the record-levels of summer mud. The next week we spent our whole session -- and an entire bottle of concentrated detangler -- getting the dreadlocks out of her mane and removing some of the dry, cakey mud. The next week I opened the stall door, the following day I was able to clip a lead to the halter she came in and we stood in the open doorway. The next day we took a few steps out, and the next we were able to go for a little walk around the boarding stable, mostly bribing her with treats to follow me as she'd never learned how to lead. She did great! The next week we began some round pen work, and within a couple more I felt comfortable enough taking her halter on/off, having her hook on, etc. to finally be able to turn her out with the herd. She did a few laps of the pasture at a full gallop (which was adorable), and then came back to me. YES!!!!

The next year was spent on groundwork. So much groundwork...We focused on relaxation and eventually did full "lessons" in-hand, going around and through the different obstacles set up in the arena, and working on round penning cues & responsiveness before we began teaching to work on a lunge line. Lunging wasn't awesome at first...took some trial and error to not go skiing, but then one day it just clicked, and she went around light and quiet. This was maybe sometime around March/April of 2019. Our first stable had trail access, so I took her out on trail in-hand once a week or so and we jogged together through the woods (I miss that!). Sometime around June I introduced Rambo's english saddle to our lunging sessions, and that July I backed her for the first time. We did a few short rides at the walk, working pretty much only on steering and stop, throughout the summer and in November we moved to a new stable for Kiara's health. Our new place had a track, and we spent the winter doing long walks in-hand and conditioning on the line, and I didn't ride her again until March of 2020.

Quarantine was very good to us. I was home (fortunately my partner at the time had an essential job) and lucky enough that our new barn was in Wisconsin, so I was there every. single. day. Kiara was now 4 and I re-started her under saddle, and rode pretty extensively during that spring and summer. We did a lot of transitions, cue work, and work on the track. By the end of the season, whether or not we wore a saddle was up for debate each day. Again, come fall, we took the winter mostly off from riding, and I restarted her AGAIN in March or April of 2021, thinking now she was turning 5 and ready for proper work.

We hit training in the fall of 2021 hard because I was invited to go on a big group trail ride and wanted Kiara to be ready. Long story short, she was ready in time, but we were unable to go because of issues with the other horses. But I suppose that's neither here nor there. In October of 2021 my relationship fell apart, and I'll admit that after a few months of pretty severe depression, it was hard to get back to things. I spend the next while going out to see Kiara once a week, then every other week, then once a month. And her attitude began to show that inconsistency...she had lost her trust in her training, and in me. She was getting dangerously herd sour, reactive, and spooky, something she had never been before. In March of 2022 she bolted on the track when her herd -- her pasture lined the track -- began to follow us and started a stampede. I was not in control, had flashbacks to Rambo, and was afraid. Again. We finished our ride but this only made my own anxieties worse, which in turn caused me to go to the barn less and less. I did not get on her back again until September, and never rode on the track again.

Fast forward to winter of 2022. I was in a happy relationship, my job was stable, and I missed my horse. In January of 2023 I moved her to a new barn, a small, quiet place to home, and spent the next few months trying to find any kind of consistent schedule...I'll admit that her attitude towards her training after the years of relative sitting was giving me serious ethical issues about whether I should be riding or working her, or any horse, at all. She was family and I'd have her until she died, but maybe just as a pasture pet (or as my partner calls her, a big dog).

Then one day, just a few weeks ago, something in my mind flipped. It was like a woke up 7 years old again, and all I could think about was horses. I spent my days at work daydreaming about seeing Kiara in the evening and what we were going to do. We've spent the past month doing a groundwork refresher and some conditioning, and this week I started riding again. We're still dealing with the sourness and reactivity/spookiness from her time off, but it's getting better each day and my training is very much focusing on building back up her confidence (and my own). We have been truly embraced by the people at our new barn, and I can honestly say we have never been happier.

I'm currently trailer shopping to be able to take Kiara on adventures --first in hand, and then under saddle-- plan to register Kiara as a gypsy sport horse this summer, under the name Rambunctious Rainbows to honor my Rambo-boy, and I am considering starting some training for eventing, since she is a gifted little jumper and I could pay a month's board if I had a dollar for everyone who tells me she moves like a dressage horse.

#horse #horsemanship #natural #natural horsemanship #humanistic psychology #gypsy #my little pony

1 note · View note

mizunetzu · 3 years

Note

Atsumu + Alcohol

If you make him drunk, I will hug you. Also, glad to see you’re back! :>

He’s drunk. Hug me. Now. But ehehe it makes me happy that you’re glad I’m back :,) NOW HERES DRUNK ATSUMU!

Also only @shiny-bun wanted to be tagged sobs reeeeeaaaal confidence booster I know :,)

——————

Atsumu x reader - Sweet, Sweet Lies Called Drunk Miya Atsumu

⚠️warnings - mentions of alcohol through the fic. reader records videos of atsumu drunk whenever he sees him. It isn’t in a sexual way at all; and reader doesn’t touch atsumu unconsentually at all. Just likes to watch him drunk bc he loves him still :,)

Also: FUCKING ANGST. you know it’s fuckign angsty when I got emotional writing it. Also, grammarly proof read it don’t trust it.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“I think we should break up.”

(Y/n) blinked, before down casting his head. He said nothing for a while, before opening his mouth again bluntly.

“...ok.”

Atsumu furrowed his brows. He gripped the coffee mug resting on the cafe table just a bit harder. He certainly wasn’t expecting that answer. “...Ya aren’t gonna ask why? Yer just ok with it?”

“Well,” (Y/n) emotionlessly bit into a small biscuit. His expression was unreadable, blank like a piece of paper. “It’s not like I can change your mind, ‘Tsumu.”

“But...can I at least know why?”

The two went silent. Atsumu pursed his lips, trying to find the words to say while (Y/n) sat there expectantly. Eventually, Atsumu looked back up from his coffee mug.

“S’a lot of reasons, I think. ‘M busy with volleyball, ‘specially since it’s my job now,” Atsumu chuckled awkwardly. It was true, with the Black Jackals, he was being paid to do something he loved. “And...I...”

“I think I found a girl I really like.”

(Y/n) looked down at his lap numbly. He already knew it was coming, he wasn’t blind to the faint lipstick marks Atsumu tried to wipe away when he came home, or the smell of expensive perfume that stained him when he would come back from ‘practice’. He knew, he knew yet...

“Ah.”

Was all he could say.

——

Atsumu downed his third can of cheap beer, hissing loudly and slamming it down on the bar.

“I hate life! M’gonna fuckin’...! Run away and shit!”

Sakusa hummed. “Oh no. What happened now.”

Loud, irritating club music blared through the bar’s speakers. Atsumu slumped over the counter, making Sakusa and Bokuto lean back.

“Oi! ‘Tsum-Tsum! What’s wrong buddy?” Bokuto poked repeatedly at Atsumu’s head, making him groan and pathetically try and flick his hand away.

“M’...M’so sad...” Atsumu whimpered. Sakusa rolled his eyes while Bokuto frowned. Atsumu continued to mumble sadly into his arms until he slowly became more agitated, and whipped his drunken head up.

“Shoyo’s got a nice boyfriend! That fuckin’...Kodzuken youtuber dude! Why can’t I! If I were Shoyo, I’d be laying on my boyfriend’s lap and bein’ all cute and shit —but here I am! Fuckin’ drinkin’ and bitchin’ and fuckin’...fuck! Fuckin’ Shoyo! Fuckin’ Kodzuken! Fuckin’—”

“But didn’t you just break up with that girl you were seeing for like, months now? Thought you were straight, man!” Bokuto said, playing with the little garnish on his drink. Atsumu deadpanned, swallowing thickly before letting his head thump down onto the table.

“Thought I was. M’gayer than if unicorns shat me out.”

Sakusa sipped on his fancy, green drink. “Is this about (L/n)-san, again-“

“‘Course it’s about (Y/n)!”

Atsumu waved at the bartender to grab him another drink. The bartender looked him up and down, before shrugging and leaving off to grab another beer. Sakusa looked at Atsumu with a disappointed expression.

“You do realize that every time we drink, you get shit-faced drunk, complain about (L/n)-san, call (L/n)-san, then he picks you up and you wake up in his house because he’s too nice to refuse to pick you up. And you regret and bitch to me every single time.” Sakusa closed his eyes and took a long sip from his drink. “Honestly I don’t know why I still come with you guys if I know it’s gonna end up like this.”

“Hey! ‘Tsum-Tsum has his problems and he’s just letting them out!” Bokuto defensively waved his arms around, gesturing to Atsumu on the table, laying down his head in his arms. Both Sakusa and Bokuto were pretty sure he was ugly sobbing. Or at least babbling nonsense that sounded like sobs.

“He can’t even sit up straight. And Miya-san was the one who broke up with (L/n)-san for another girl. He has no right to be complaining.”

“S-Still! ‘Tsumu’s the homie! Let him rant!” Bokuto chugged down his drink.

Sakusa fished his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled down his list of contacts, before clicking on one that read ‘(L/n)-san. (Atsumu’s pick-me-up)’. The phone’s screen turned black, displaying (Y/n’s) profile pic with a ‘contacting...’ right under it in fine print.

“Sure, Bokuto-san. Whatever you want.”

——

“Fuckin’...let go of me, Omi!” Atsumu slurred. He, however, made no attempt to push Sakusa off as he dragged him outside the bar. Bokuto had long gone, and Atsumu was a few drinks overdue for his trip home.

Sakusa sighed, standing out in the cold with his mask pulled up to his face. Atsumu lolled his head onto Sakusa’s shoulder, either in an attempt to push him off or just pure drunkenness. “Don’t drool on me, Miya-san.” Sakusa cringed.

Atsumu was about to retort back, until both his and Sakusa’s attention was drawn to a home-y, black car that pulled up right in front of them. The driver’s door clicked open, and someone in a baggy sweater and sweatpants emerged from the car.

“Please take him, (L/n)-san. I’m sorry for always calling you to-”

“It’s fine!” (Y/n) chuckled, opening the passenger’s side door for Sakusa to throw Atsumu’s body in. “‘Tsumu’s been drinking a lot, huh? Isn’t this the third time this month I had to pick him up?”

Atsumu groaned when Sakusa clipped in his seatbelt. He sighed when Atsumu began tugging at it like a child, not knowing how to unbuckle it himself. “Actually, it’s the fourth time. But he has a reason today, I think.”

“He finally broke up with Yumena-san.”

Breath hitched in (Y/n’s) throat. He covered his shock up with a smile, however, and closed the car door with Atsumu in it. “Aw. Well, I better uh, drive him home, now. Bye-bye, Sakusa-kun.”

Sakusa nodded. (Y/n) stepped into his car tentatively. Ignoring the way Atsumu was still tugging at his seatbelt, he started up the car, and drove.

“I’m...sure you won’t mind sleeping over at my place again...right, ‘Tsumu?” (Y/n) mumbled, more to himself than to the drunktard sprawled out onto his car seat. He silently unlocked his phone, tapping on the camera app and propping his phone up on his dash. He hit record, and withdrew his hand back to the steering wheel. Atsumu eyed it suspiciously, before shrugging it off sleepily.

“Naaaah…” Atsumu slurred. He threw his head haphazardly onto the armrests separating his seat from (Y/n’s), trying to get as close to his ex as possible. “Yer apartment smells good...I miss it...I miss you…”

Shifting so he was still laying on the armrest, Atsumu tucked his arm under his head like a pillow. “Yer so...pretty…love you so much...”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. Atsumu smiled dumbly, pointing a finger gun at (Y/n). “We should-you and I should like, totally get back together n’ shit…” Atsumu stopped, letting out a hiccup, before continuing. “I miss you...n’ I love you…”

Stopping at a red light, (Y/n) looked down at Atsumu, who was staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. (Y/n) averted his gaze, chuckling awkwardly. “...You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk.”

Atsumu shot up. “But I do! M’so sad without you!” Atsumu loosened his seatbelt enough so he could rest his face on (Y/n’s) forearm. “You were the best thing in my life, n’ I need you back! I love you so muuuuuuch!”

(Y/n) stayed quiet for a second, glancing at his camera pointed directly at Atsumu nuzzling his face into his arm. He slowed the car to a stop, taking out his keys and pressing the ‘Stop’ button on his phone. He slipped both of them into his pockets.

“We’re here. C’mon, get up.” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. After sitting in his car for a while, he finally got up, and walked over to the other side to haul Atsumu’s corpse-of-a-body out of his seat. “Fuck...sometimes I wish my apartment wasn’t on the third floor-’Tsumu! You can walk if I support you, right? I’m not carrying you.”

Atsumu pressed all his weight against (Y/n). “What if I want my boyfriend to carry me like a princess n’ shit…”

“I’m-” (Y/n) swallowed. His voice was quiet and shaky again. “I’m not your boyfriend. You say stupid things when you’re drunk...”

Atsumu was about to protest, when (Y/n) looped his arm under his own arm.

“Let’s go. You need rest.”

The walk to (Y/n’s) apartment was silent.

——

Atsumu pouted, eyeing down the way Kenma was showing a video on his phone to Hinata and smiling. Hinata grinned widely, his eyes glued to Kenma’s phone screen until an obnoxious sigh drew his eyes away.

“Why’d ya even invite me here...M’just third wheelin’ on yer guys's little date time.” Atsumu frowned, dramatically slumping in his seat. Kenma hunched his shoulders down, suddenly becoming very aware of the way Atsumu not-so-subtly stared him down. He brought his coffee cup to his lips, trying to hide behind the cup itself.

Hinata defensively wrapped his arms around Kenma. “Oiiiii! We invited you over because you always get super-duper depressed after waking up hungover at (L/n’s)!”

“I’m more depressed now that yer all cuddly-wuddly with yer frickin’ boyfriend while m’sitting here with my single ass!”

“Miya wakes up hungover at (Y/n’s)?” Kenma quietly asked Hinata. He nodded. Atsumu started flailing his arms around, trying to get Hinata to stop talking, but he didn’t seem to take the hint.

“Every time he goes drinking, he ends up crying about how much he still loves (L/n)—and ends up either calling him or someone else calls him to go pick him up. Either way, he wakes up super embarrassed and awkward in (L/n’s) bed and sulks the rest of the time at practice.”

Atsumu sat there, feeling like he’d been shoved to the front of a volleyball court completely naked. Kenma blinked, before looking down again.

“Oh.”

“That’s all yer gonna say-!?”

“I guess it kind of makes sense, now.”

Atsumu stopped mid-sentence, looking at Kenma with a confused expression. Kenma tried to dodge Atsumu’s eyes again, this time tugging on Hinata’s sleeve.

“...What makes sense now?”

Kenma had the look of ‘I said too much.’, trying to change the topic or hoping Hinata would swoop in and change it for him. But alas, no such thing happened. “I don’t think (Y/n) would…”

Hinata suddenly tugged back at Kenma’s sweatshirt, gesturing to turn around with him for a private conversation. They both turned their heads, mumbling out little ‘video-!’, ‘(Y/n)-!’ and ‘Atsumu-!’s here and there. Atsumu glanced from Hinata, to Kenma, before pouting that he’d been left out of the conversation.

Eventually, both Kenma and Hinata turned around again, looking directly at Atsumu. He stared back at them with doe-like confused eyes, when Kenma fished out his phone.

“If we show you, you promise to act like you never knew at all?” Hinata childishly extended his pinky finger out to Atsumu, to which he nodded vigorously and hooked his own pinky with his. Kenma piped up.

“The reason I said it made sense was because I found a folder in (Y/n’s) phone titled, and I quote: ‘Sweet, Sweet, Lies called Drunk Miya Atsumu (watch when sad)’. They’re filled with video’s of you, drunk, blabbing about how much you love him.”

Atsumu stared at Kenma.

“Yer fuckin’ lyin’.”

“I’m...really not.” Kenma turned his phone screen around, displaying a video filmed in what seemed to be (Y/n’s) car. Atsumu leaned down and peered at the video, seeing his head frozen in place in the corner of the screen. Kenma felt around for the play button, tapping until it started playing.

Atsumu watched the video in horror, his face going milk white as he watched himself cry and sob about how much he wanted to get back with (Y/n). Right in front of him. The video ended, and Atsumu looked up with the hope of getting hit with a bus.

“How...did you get-”

“I airdropped this one to myself when (Y/n) was in the bathroom one day because I found this one funny.” Kenma mumbled, turning his phone around and inspecting the screen. “There’s millions of them on his phone, this one isn’t even the worst. Some of them are in his apartment when he’s trying to get you into bed, and I think there’s one where you beg him to cuddle with yo-”

“Stop! Stop! No more!” Atsumu covered his face, embarrassed. Kenma let his mouth fall shut, while Hinata snickered into his drink. Atsumu let his head smack onto the table. “What did I do to deserve this…”

“Hey!” Hinata quipped, his positive voice making Atsumu’s brain hurt. “You know what that means, right?”

“That (Y/n) probably wants blackmail or revenge on me for breaking up with him?” Atsumu grumbled into his hands.

“Wh-no, what,” Kenma said. “He means-”

“(L/n) still loves you! I mean-he saves videos of you saying you love him to watch when he is sad or lonely or whatever, that means he loves you still! It was even in the title!”

Atsumu glared at Hinata like he was squinting at the sun. Kenma shrugged.

“S’true. He told me himself he watches them when he goes to sleep n’stuff.”

“Yer lyin’.”

“Was he lying when he showed you the video?” Hinata raised his eyebrow.

Atsumu opened his mouth, before letting it clamp shut and shaking his head ‘no’.

——

Clinging to his side like a kicked puppy, (Y/n) found himself nursing a drunk, sobbing Atsumu at his apartment once more.

“Tsum-” (Y/n) struggled to stick his key in his door’s keyhole with the way Atsumu was quite literally hanging off him. It was like he was trying to pull (Y/n) to the ground with him. “Atsumu! I’m trying to-”

“Don’t leaaaaave meeee! I love you!” Atsumu sobbed. He wiped his messy face onto (Y/n’s) jacket.

Finally sticking the key inside and turning it, (Y/n) pushed open the door and patted at Atsumu’s ruffled hair. “I’m not leaving, ‘Tsumu. Just taking you to bed, is all. We’re still...friends...I think.”

“Don’t wanna be your friend.” Atsumu sniffled, as he staggered into (Y/n’s) room with the support of his body. He was thrown on the bed with a loud groan, as (Y/n) went to grab his phone. “We were meant to be together...boyfriends...soulmates…!”

“I wish you meant that,” (Y/n) chuckled, setting up his phone, pointing it at his bed and pressing record. “Gave it up after the fifth time you came here sloppy drunk, though. It really is just you talking out of your ass.”

The hint of bitterness in (Y/n’s) voice increased unsteadily, wavering like a candlelight. “I-I mean, you say all these nice things-then the next morning you either deny everything you said, or leave before I can even say goodbye! Or you don’t even remember most of the time!”

(Y/n’s) disgruntled laugh made Atsumu blink. He eventually simmered down, looking down at the floor and busying himself with searching through his desk.

“That’s okay though. I have these little videos of your lies to keep me company. I can live with that just fine.” (Y/n) turned to Atsumu, holding up painkillers and setting them atop the desk. “...Sorry for problem-dumping on you, ‘Tsumu. I know you want sleep.”

“Don’t take these yet. They’re for tomorrow.” (Y/n) rattled the painkillers in their box, before producing a water bottle and extending it to Atsumu. He looked at the bottle like it was some foreign object. The water sloshed around when (Y/n) swirled it around Atsumu’s face. “It’s for your hangover tomorrow. Drink up, ‘Tsum-Tsum.”

“Only if you cuddle with me.”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then m’not drinkin’ the fuggin’ water!”

“Atsum-!” (Y/n) sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He set down the bottle of water on his nightstand, and rested his hands on his hips. “...If I give you a tiny hug, will you drink all the water and go to sleep?”

Atsumu nodded vigorously.

(Y/n) expected him to stand up and give him a hug, but instead, he opened his arms and sat expectantly, waiting for something to crawl between them. He was so far back on the bed, (Y/n) would probably have to lay awkwardly in his chest until he was satisfied.

So that's what (Y/n) did, after what felt like hours of contemplating and clenched jaws. He bit his lip, climbing slowly towards Atsumu on the bed. Atsumu smiled dumbly, and scooped him up in his arms like a claw machine.

What Atsumu didn’t expect, was (Y/n) to stiffen up, surprised, before melting into his arms pathetically. He clumsily wrapped his arms around Atsumu’s torso, his body curling into the shape of his own like dough. He let his head slump in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, taking in a shaky, deep breath and sighing heavier than he meant to.

(Y/n) figured he must’ve forgotten how much he relished being wrapped up in Atsumu’s arms, because he found himself not wanting to let go of Atsumu’s shirt that reeked of alcohol.

Still, after what was probably only a few candid seconds, (Y/n) pushed himself away from Atsumu, who slumped back on the bed confused, and wobbled his way back onto his feet.

“There…” (Y/n) breathed. He had the most unreadable expression, and his voice was quiet and raspy. “Now-now drink th-the water...you promised.”

Atsumu shrugged, swiping the water from the nightstand, and chugging it sloppily. (Y/n) went to work removing Atsumu’s socks, pants, and other things uncomfy to sleep in, until he was left in his boxers and t-shirt. Atsumu stared at (Y/n) sleepily, as he grabbed a spare pillow and blanket, and threw them on the swivel chair near his desk.

“...Y-Yer not gonna sleep here with me?”

(Y/n) furrowed his eyebrows, reaching over to stop his phone from recording, and curled up on the chair with his pillow. His voice was meek under the thin blanket he wrapped himself in. “You always ask, and i’ll always say no. Honestly I don’t know why you keep asking.”

“You look cold.”

“I’m...really not.”

“S’comfier on the bed.”

“...I like this chair.”

“I can scoot over-”

“Miya, if I give in and cuddle with you, everythings gonna be sunshine and rainbows ‘til the next morning—where you wake up next to me and regret everything! I’m-i’m trying to save your dignity here so stop asking!” (Y/n) croaked. He clutched his blanket tighter. “You’re drunk! You aren’t thinking! I already gave your-your stupid hug so stop it! How do you think I feel!?”

Atsumu rubbed at his head. (Y/n’s) hot face immediately flushed out, his voice quieting down back into his normal voice.

“Ah...I’m...sorry. You’re...tired and I probably shocked you with my-by being loud n’stuff.” (Y/n) bowed his head slightly, before shifting away from Atsumu in his little swivel chair. “Sorry. Go to sleep now. Night, ‘Tsumu.”

When he heard shifting on the bed, (Y/n) grabbed his earphones and turned out the light. Plugging in his earphones hurriedly, he switched on his phone, clicking on the photos app and on today's video of Atsumu to cheer him up. He even caught the hug on camera, so he was looking forward to that.

Dimming his phone's brightness to not disturb Atsumu, (Y/n) scrolled through the video, everything moving in fast-motion until (Y/n) saw himself climb into Atsumu’s arms. He paused the video there, smiling numbly, and taking a screenshot.

Before he could add the video to the rest of his collection of drunk-sumu videos, he was suddenly hauled up and hanging upside down. He was tossed over Atsumu’s shoulder, not even having time to protest before he was thrown carefully onto his own bed.

“Hey-Tsu-” Atsumu said nothing, climbing into the bed gracefully after (Y/n) and pulling the covers over the both of them. “Listen to me-! Let me go-!”

“If yer gonna keep sayin’ shit like...like i’ll regret it in the mornin’...fuckin’... let me,” Atsumu slurred. (Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, but Atsumu beat him to it. “S’my fault…’n...m’gonna deal with it in the mornin’. S-so lemme hold you.”

(Y/n) knitted together his eyebrows, looking conflicted on what he should do. He’d been so, so good at restraining himself from stealing hugs and kisses from Atsumu when he was drunk, and his reward was the videos. If he messed it up now, would Atsumu be too embarrassed to let himself get picked up by (Y/n) when he was drunk? Was he really willing to potentially give up future lovey-dovey drunk videos, and seeing Atsumu tell him he loved him for one night in his arms again?

He was.

(Y/n) relaxed, a numb expression on his face. He was just about done. One last time of drunk Atsumu holding him for a whole night, then it was time to move on. Hell, maybe after tonight, and after explaining to a very-embarassed hungover Atsumu in the morning that “No, we did not have sex,” maybe, just maybe, he would finally delete the videos. The video’s of his ex who didn’t love him anymore, feeding him drunk lies of ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’, and finally moving on with his life.

(Y/n) ran his fingers through his hair, and let out a tuckered-out sigh. Maybe after he stopped clinging to the past, he could be normal friends with Atsumu Miya again.

(Y/n) looked at Atsumu with dry eyes. He let himself succumb to Atsumu’s warm chest, breathing in his scent for what could possibly be the last time. Atsumu purred happily, adjusting so he could wrap both arms around (Y/n), using one as a pillow for him and another to wrap around his body. (Y/n) hummed dryly.

Atsumu giggled. “...Love you...so much.”

(Y/n), for once out of all the time’s he’d always respond with ‘No, you don’t.’ or ‘You’re just drunk.’, said:

“I love you too.”

“...hehe...he…” Atsumu kissed the crown of (Y/n’s) forehead, before nuzzling it with his nose. “I love you sososo much.”

(Y/n) was quick to respond, even though his throat began closing up and making it hard to speak. You could probably tell he was on the verge of tears. “Me too, ‘Tsumu. I love you most.”

“I love you so much…” Atsumu began, this time his voice way more clearer and sober than what he’d been speaking with this whole night.

“...That i’d pretend m’drunk just to see you again.”

“...”

(Y/n) blinked, not quite processing his words. He shrunk inside Atsumu’s cage-like arms, before timidly meeting Atsumu’s eyes. They seemed much clearer, less hazy from ‘alcohol’, and they stared back at him with it’s usual ‘Atsumu’ look.

“...huh…?”

Atsumu patted (Y/n’s) head. “Yer so cute. I love you so much.”

“Wh-wait-” (Y/n) tried to wriggle his way out of Atsumu’s arms. “You-you’re not-”

“Nope. All I did at the bar tonight was watch Bokkun and Shoyo-kun drink so i’d smell like alcohol. Then I told—well, paid Omi-Omi to call you sayin’ I was drunk again, so I could see what stupid shit I did at your place when I was drunk.”

“Though,” Atsumu nodded at the discarded phone on the ground, next to (Y/n’s) makeshift swivel chair-bed. “I could've just asked to see that video of me. Or the rest of them, ‘coordin’ to Kozume-kun.”

(Y/n) sputtered, trying to find the words to speak, but finding himself too embarrassed to. He’d, finally, been caught red-handed.

He sighed, casting his head down, before crawling out of his bed and taking the walk of shame to his phone. “...You caught me,’Tsu...Atsumu. Caught me real good, Atsumu.”

(Y/n) scrolled through his phone, searching for the album full of his drunk video’s of Atsumu. He clicked on it, then waved his phone around guiltily. He turned the phone around, peering down at it sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll delete all of these...and I...I can drive you home if you want.”

“Nah. M’pretty comfy here.” Atsumu laid back down. “I’d be comfier if you were in my arms again, though.”

Atsumu made grabby arms towards (Y/n). (Y/n) blinked, searching Atsumu for any sort of satire. He found none, and nervously inched toward Atsumu until he was pulled back into his chest. The phone was, once again, forgotten on the floor.

“Wheeeeeey, there we go~” Atsumu nestled down onto the bed, crooning (Y/n) in his arms and stroking his head. “Ain’t that comfy.”

He pressed a small kiss to (Y/n’s) forehead. “Love you. Goodnight~”

“...Wait, n-no you-”

Atsumu pressed another kiss onto (Y/n’s) face, promptly shutting him up. He tried speaking again, just to have another kiss placed onto his face. This cycle went on, (Y/n) trying to voice out his protests just to be hushed with kisses all over his face, until he reduced into a pile of hot tears, melting his face off raw.

Atsumu kissed (Y/n’s) tears away. When more kept coming, Atsumu pulled back, stroking (Y/n’s) hair as gently as he could. Gentle was not a word to describe Miya Atsumu, but he sure as hell would try.

“Stop cryin’...” Atsumu whispered, kissing another falling tear away. “I came here to win ya back, not make you cry…”

“I-I’m sorry-” (Y/n) sobbed out between hics. “I just- I missed you so-”

“I did too.”

They sat there, small hics coming from (Y/n) as Atsumu quietly stroked his hair, and in all honesty, they would have laid there forever. But (Y/n) finally wriggled his way out Atsumu’s grasp, timpering his way to his phone.

He picked it up, fiddling with it, before turning his phone screen around. Atsumu leaned closer.

‘Sweet, Sweet, Lies called Drunk Miya Atsumu (watch when sad) - 0 videos’

“Deleted them all.” (Y/n) murmured. “Figured I wouldn’t need them anymore now that I got you here…”

Atsumu blinked before erupting into a wide smile. He sprang off the bed and attacked (Y/n) with a big, bear hug. “You bet yer ass you won’t!”

He peppered kisses around (Y/n’s) face, and instead of crying, (Y/n) began to smile.

“Stop it-that tickles! ‘Tsumu-!” The red tear stains on (Y/n’s) face were barely noticeable under the flurry of kisses he was under. Atsumu grinned stupidly into (Y/n’s) skin.

“Ya know full well you don’t want me to.”

And he didn’t.

Atsumu pressed one final kiss to (Y/n’s) face, this time, and for the first time in a long time: on his lips.

——————

I’m really proud of this 👉👈 I’d like it if I could get a lil,,,reblog,,,with thoughts,,,or comments,,,aha ha ha,,,

Lil thing I found funny

#hq x y/n #hq x you #hq x male reader #hq sakusa #msby 4 #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu male reader #hq atsumu #atsumu x male reader #atsumu imagines #atsumu angst #atsumu miya x male reader #miya atsumu x male reader #miya atsumu

1K notes · View notes

yourlmanburg · 3 years

Text

benchsquad meetup // benchtrio (& others) + reader

i know nothing about london zoo

word count: 1,485

(this hasn't been proofread or anything pls forgive how bad it is smh)

---

You hadn’t felt excitement like this since you received your invite to the Dream SMP, barely containing your smile as you sat on the train on your way to spend the day with your three best friends. You’d known Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy for a good few months now after you met them through the server, and your friendship quickly solidified and morphed into an iconic group known as the “Bench Squad”, and today was the day you’d finally be meeting them in person.

It’d been agreed that you’d meet in London, film a Tom Simons vlog, and then meet up with Wilbur, Philza, Jack and Niki to film another vlog for your own channel before spending a few nights at Tubbo’s house. You had a busy few days ahead of you filled with recording and streaming but you couldn’t care less; you knew these were about to be the best days of your life. You passed the time with your airpods in your ears with your guys’ collab Spotify playlist blasting through your ears and catching up on missed vods and YouTube videos, when eventually the train came to a halt at your stop.

This was it. You were about to meet the people who meant the most to you.

You pulled out your bags as quickly as you could, not wasting a single second that could instead be spent with them. Shoving through the congregation of people and stopping one or twice to greet fans who recognised you, you made your way over to a less crowded area of the train station to shoot Ranboo a quick “where are you?” text. It took a few anxious minutes for him to reply, but once he did there was nothing stopping you from practically running to where they waited.

And there they were. You could see them not too far away now, two tall figures and a slightly smaller one stood in a row, looking around as if they were waiting for someone. It was then that you were struck with an idea, what if you just…

You snuck round to the other side of where they stood, making an effort not to be seen. You crouched down a little and creeped towards them, praying none of them turned round.

“BOO!” you shouted, successfully scaring the three of them and even a few poor strangers around you. With a smile you jumped straight into Ranboo’s arms, and you held each other tightly as the four of you grinned like children on Christmas day.

“Y/n!” Tommy and Tubbo exclaimed in unison, while Ranboo simply commented on the pun you accidentally made. You chuckled as you pulled away, wiping the tears from your eyes and readjusting your bags. This is the moment you’d been waiting for for so many months now.

“How was the journey?” Tommy asked after you’d greeted them properly and had begun to make your way out of the train station and to the location of where the vlog was going to be filmed.

“Wasn’t too bad, it was a bit scary doing it on my own and it took way too long but it could’ve been worse, I guess.” you replied, the smile seemingly glued to your face. “Where are we going again?”

“This way,” Tommy led you through many busy roads and you really wished you had somewhere to put your bags, which is why you were grateful when Ranboo offered to carry one of them for you. You thanked him profusely, rubbing your sore shoulder from where the heaviest bag had been resting. It took a while to get there so Tommy decided to film the vlog intro while you were all walking, though soon enough you found yourselves standing outside the great entrance to London Zoo.

“Here we are,” Tommy said as he held his phone up to the sign, clearly out of breath from all the walking, “We’re at the zoo!” he showed you and the other two on camera and you all waved, just as worn out as he was.

You went in and got all the registration sorted, and now you were free to do as you pleased! As you walked into the main area the gorilla enclosure immediately caught your eyes and you ran to see them, Tubbo in tow. Tommy started complaining to the camera as he caught up to you and Ranboo simply laughed, standing back and watching the “argument” you two were putting on for content.

The four of you walked around the zoo for a while, filming the majority of it and laughing and joking around with each other. You were having the time of your life, and it was far from over; you couldn’t wait to meet the others.

“Hold on a minute…” you interrupted Tommy filming Tubbo trying to get an Alpaca’s attention as a certain species caught your eye, and being close to the one and only Wilbur Soot made it impossible to miss. “Are they anteaters?”

“Thank God Wilbur’s not here, huh!” Ranboo chimed in, walking over and standing beside you. This still didn’t feel real.

“Can we go and see them?” Tubbo asked, but there was hardly a chance of anyone saying no. So now you were on FaceTime with Wilbur (who was already with Niki) as he gushed about how much he hated those damn creatures, pulling up the infamous list. None of you could stop laughing rather loudly and you certainly got many dirty looks, but you didn’t care.

The aquarium was quite something, too. One of the staff members got particularly mad at Tommy for tapping on the glass and shouting at the fish while you recorded him for a bit, which was definitely a sight to see. Needless to say, you rushed right past that woman the next time you guys saw her.

You saw so many incredible animals and had so many laughs with your friends, and you didn’t leave until late afternoon. It didn’t really matter though, there wasn’t much planned for your vlog. You guys made your way out of the exit and caught a taxi to take you to another place, wrapping up Tommy’s filming there. You admittedly almost fell asleep, but the calm conversation you were having with Tubbo kept you awake.

The taxi eventually pulled up outside a post restaurant which is where your vlog was going to be filmed. You didn’t choose anything too extravagant, the plan was for a short but entertaining video with you and your friends. It took about ten minutes of standing and waiting for the other four to turn up. First it was Philza, of course he was the only one on time. You suspected Niki would’ve been too, but she was probably being held up by Jack and Wilbur.

“OLD MAN!” you shouted, zooming in on him as the first clip of your vlog. He burst out laughing as he greeted you, asking if the others were here yet. “Nope! Bet they won’t be here for another two hours.” you joked, stopping the recording and talking to Phil and the others until they did eventually turn up.

Soon enough all eight of you were sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant, trying to decide what on earth you were going to order. You were squished in between Ranboo and Wilbur which made you feel particularly small, and Tommy was laughing at you from the other side of the table, Niki jokingly scolding him for being mean.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” he retorted, amping up his personality for the camera again.

“Neither did Y/n and you’re being mean to them!” Niki said, a smile evident on her face as you caught her eyes and laughed.

“Thank you, Niki, I believe Tommy should learn his lesson from a responsible adult.” you thanked her, Wilbur tuning in from his conversation with Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil and Jack.

“Tommy, stop being a dick.” He said bluntly, causing you all to burst out laughing.

“I agree.” Jack said with a deadpan face, earning an eye roll from Tommy.

“Oh, shut up Manifold!” He whined, failing to notice the very confused waitress standing over the table, waiting to take everybody’s orders. Phil was, of course, the one to apologise for all the commotion and you all took turns to let her know what you wanted, going straight back to your previous antics the moment she left.

You left the restaurant hated by most people who were in there, and you all found it funnier than it really was. You said goodbye to the adults and finished up your very chaotic vlog, making your way to another train station and taking the train back to Tubbo’s house. You got back quite late and all of you pretty much immediately crashed after such a busy yet fulfilling day. And it was the first of many.

#reader insert #x reader #platonic x reader #ranboo x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #philza x reader #nihachu x reader #jack manifold x reader #are those the right tags #i just don't want them in the general mcyt area #mcyt x reader

268 notes · View notes

princessofprocrastination · 3 years

Text

Not The Same (GeorgeNotFound)

summary : you put out a song, but it attracted the wrong type of crowd and caused too many misunderstandings.

trigger warnings : threats (including death and doxing), panic attacks, taking of meds.

"you're THOSE type of fans, huh?" you read the comments on your newest song release.

and that was the start of your downfall.

you and your dad really enjoyed singing. at any opportunity you two got, you would be doing a duet.

whether that would be at at a close relative's wedding or your at home karaoke set up, you two knew how to entertain people.

though singing was your passion, you ended up being too busy with school and trying to graduate with a diploma to even think about singing again.

but you swore to make a career of your singing after high school. you just loved it too much.

but then, you didn't go to college for music, which pretty much shocked your parents and your friends since they knew your only passion in life was singing.

but you took a different direction. you still wanted to sing and you were trying your hardest to find a way to make that your career.

someday, anyway. but you needed to have a plan to fall back into in case anything goes wrong.

you were a realist, after all.

so off to college you went.

you spent long hours studying for tests after tests, sat through hours of lectures, did endless amounts of projects.

in the end, it was all worth the wait and fatigue. you graduated top of your class.

you went off to be an intern, clocked in more hours before you could fully go into the next phase of your life.

and after those long hours, you finally made the decision (with the support of your parents) to take a gap year.

but before anyone panics. your gap year was not all fun in games where you took to rest and lay in bed all day.

you took the gap year to see if the music industry fits you. to see if you even had the chance to succeed.

and if it did, you could finally have your dream job. but even if it didn't you were not going to be upset if you needed to fall back onto your backup plan.

in the duration of the gap year, you took voice lessons, and poetry classes for song writing.

and with whatever you have learnt, you took that into writing songs that you felt really relate to your life experiences.

so you spend at least a couple months writing multiple songs.

after almost 2 years, you finally came out with your first song. and it definitely got recognition. more than you thought you'd get, if you were being completely honest.

and that was what pushed you to sit your ass back on your desk to write more, and go into your makeshift studio and make the words into songs.

your parents were ecstatic to hear that you were finally doing the things you loved. and you knew you'd never get this far if it weren't for your family's support.

and so your music journey began.

it was going well for years. you were finally happy doing the one thing you enjoyed doing.

and you definitely think you were good at it. seeing and hearing the positive feedbacks from your family, friends and listeners.

you felt good.

but you lost that feeling when you came out with a new single, called ‘fan of you’.

you spent a while working hard on that song and you felt relieved when it was finally released. it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

and you weren’t sure how one thing led to another, if you were being honest. at first, you received good feedback for your new songs. you even gained new listeners and your spotify rank rised.

but then it didn’t anymore.

your twitter flooded with mentions and your instagram full of tagged pictures and dms by accounts you’ve never heard of.

but you noticed a similarity with all of the spam. a guy name george. georgenotfound for short.

you being you, you looked into it. and that was when all of the information hit you. and all you had to look up was your name on twitter, and there it was, the longest thread of tweets you have ever seen in your life.

you took time to read it all, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial.

there must be an understanding. you didn’t know this guy name george. you’ve seen his face on pinterest once a while when you scrolled, yes. but you never looked into him.

this amazing person took their time to gather every bit of information there was about the scandal, which you were grateful for, or else you’d be scouring the internet for hours.

to summarise what you read, there was this artist by the name of tia jade who came out with a song a few months prior to yours called ‘just a fan.’

it was a good song, some say, and you could agree. it was professionally written and produced. but many fans of george found out that the song was about him.

not just about him, but about her falling in love with him, when she has never met him. and when his fans started to really listen and analyse the song, it got creepier.

basically, the song was about a fan falling in love with a celebrity/content creator and that they want to know them beyond their persona online.

but tia had apologised a little after the song came out, saying that she made that song based on a fan liking a content creator, and not about her falling for george.

but when you read enough of the issue, it definitely did seem like she was making that song to tell her story about falling for george. but she obviously needed an excuse to cover it up.

hence the apology.

and then you read about how they analysed your song, too.

they compared your song to tia’s and found it to have similar stories. stories about how a normal girl is falling in love with the man by the name of george, who had millions of followers on all social medias.

and if you admitted it to yourself, your song did seem to come out that way. especially if your mentality had been there. clearly your song could have been interpreted in many different ways.

you scrolled to the very bottom of the thread where there was a video of the man himself, george. he was addressing the issue.

“i don’t know how this happened twice. i thought once was weird enough, but.” he paused, focusing on building something on his screen.

“having heard of a song being about me again now makes my skin crawl.” he finished. it was short but enough to make his fans understand where he was coming from.

you scrolled further to see the replies of the thread. you wanted to know what were people saying about it.

and you definitely regretted your decision to do that.

threats everywhere. death threats, threats of beating you up, threats of doxing you. god the negative comments were drowned by the one’s that genuinely thought nothing wrong of your song.

you called you mom. this was the time you needed her advice. you needed to be told what to do. you didn’t want to accidentally trigger people.

you and her were on the phone for hours. she listened to you cried to her. she heard the painful sobs that came out of your mouth whenever you reminded yourself of what people were calling you on the internet.

she heard you cry silently on call when you saw your address and phone number being leaked on twitter.

but even through all of that, you joked around with your mom. “well, this was a hell of a way to be trending.”

you did what she told you to do. get a new phone number, stay in a hotel for a couple days while you try to settle the raging crowd of georgenotfound fans down.

in the span of a couple weeks, you got yourself a new number, a new house and a new car. you weren’t taking any chances.

you told no one besides your mom of the new changes, just to be safe.

and no, the threats did not cease. at all. these people did not have a life, constantly up in your dms, telling you to jump off a cliff or them hoping that a robber stabs you and leaves you dying.

you took your time trying to figure out a way to talk to george. or a way to speak out about this.

you didn’t want to write a half-assed notes app paragraph apologising when- first of all, you had nothing to apologise for and second, you had too much to say to fit it all in a notes app.

lucky for you, you didn’t need to start your own channel or make a sit down video on your own.

your recording label had brought up the idea of a documented series about you and how you became a singer about a year ago, and only started filming and posting the episodes a couple months prior on youtube.

so you took the series to your advantage. you pitched in the idea to your manager, to which she agreed to immediately, knowing that it was best you talked about it now.

this was how it played out on the perspective of viewers who watched that episode.

“bless you.” your producer says after you paused your singing in the mic as you stopped to sneeze.

you gave him a smile and a thumbs up from inside the booth.

the camera cuts to another clip.

the cameraman pans as they captured movers coming in and out of your old house, picking up your heavy furniture and boxes into large trucks to move into the new place.

it cuts again. this time it shows you scrolling on your phone with a focused face while your manager types something vigorously on her computer.

the camera tries to focus on your phone, and sees that you were on twitter, reading a lot of tweets under your name.

you exited the app and slide it away, going into youtube next, reading the comments on your song ‘fan of you’.

you scrolled far, clicking on some of the comments, trying to read the replies to certain comments you saw.

the camera cuts into a black screen. which then cuts again into a new scene, where you sat on your new kitchen counter talking to your mother, who sat on the chair in front of you.

your hair was up in a ponytail. a messy one. you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that seemed far too big on you, and your feet covered with fluffy socks.

you were nodding to whatever she was saying to you. it was clear your mind was elsewhere as your eyes were unfocused.

the scene cuts again.

you were seen on the couch, your legs were tucked into your arms and your head down, body shaking. it was obvious you were crying.

you were alone, your mother no where to be seen.

that was the first time the camera caught you crying.

the scene cuts as you were going to get up from the couch.

now, you were in the kitchen again, opening the refrigerator to take a water bottle, then walking to your room upstairs.

the camera follows behind you slowly into your room.

it hadn’t been the cleanest. there were a couple shirts on the floor, your bed undone, cups on your side table, your laptop open on your desk.

you were seen opening a drawer, taking out a small white bottle. you unscrewed the bottle and took out 2 pills, popping them in your mouth, drinking water straight away after that to swallow.

the scene cuts again.

this time, you were seated on the couch in the studio, the atmosphere dark and quiet.

your hair was more kept this time, being help up in a clip.

you were wearing straight jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt. you looked more refreshed this time. but it was obvious you hadn’t slept in a while because of your eyes.

your eyes that usually held a lot of happiness and joy turned dull.

“it’s been a while since i’ve spoken to a camera.” you offered a small smile. your song ‘just a fan’ was playing in the background of the clip.

the scene cuts again.

“when i released that song, i was genuinely proud of the work i had done.” you paused for a while. besides the song playing in the background, it was silent.

“but i guess the joy didn’t last very long.” the scene cuts there.

it transitioned to a collage of what people were saying about you. it showed clips of people talking about it on youtube. they even showed george talking about it.

and it cuts again.

it showed a different clip this time. a clip of your ex boyfriend and you at the beach on a picnic, that was taken by a close friend of yours.

this was when you were still in college.

it showed all the fun memories you two made while you were still together.

it showed a video of him studying in the library, flipping through his papers and scrolling through his laptop. it was clear he was hard at work, not noticing you filming him.

but then the scene cuts again. and the music turned somber.

your ex boyfriend’s grave.

it was the day you were visiting him. you sat down next to his stone, a blanket under you.

you were just staring at his stone, not moving.

and it cuts again.

“he was one of the most driven person i have ever met.” you told the camera.

“he knew when to be serious and when to have fun.” you looked down in your hands and played with your rings.

“all he ever talked about was becoming a surgeon. he worked hard in his intern years and continued being passionate through his residency.” you spoke up.

“people had only nice things to say about him. the only bad thing they would say about him is that he can be pretty uptight sometimes, especially when he was stressed about something.” you laughed a little.

“i was a huge fan of him, even when we just saw each other in the hallways. he’s just amazing. i’ve always wanted to be just like him.”

“i wanted to write a song about him but i didn’t the song to be sad.” you said.

“and that was when the song ‘fan of you’ was created.

the scene cuts there and goes into another.

you were in the recording booth again, this time, you were singing into the mic.

the camera pans to your producer and manager dancing and bobbing their heads to the beat.

the scene cuts, officially ending it with a black screen with ‘the end’ in a fancy white font.

you busied yourself with writing new songs as your name got trended again on twitter.

and george has never felt worse about himself ever in his entire life.

he watched the episode as soon as dream sent it to him.

“you’re an asshole, george.” dream sends to him, along with the link of the video on youtube.

as the video ends, he decides to read the comments, wondering what it was like down there.

it was the worse mistake he had ever made in a while.

but he knew he deserved it. he did assumed it was about him, just like the last song made with a drawing of his glasses as their cover photo on spotify.

this time, there was genuinely no reason to think that this song was about him, or anyone with a following whatsoever. he just believed what his chat told him.

sure, there were some familiarity of the character in your song and him, but the world did have 7.6 billion people living on it.

“so, here i am apologising.” george says to his camera, live. his tone was very sincere and apologetic.

“this shouldn’t have gotten this far. they shouldn’t have gotten threats at all, let alone death threats. they shouldn’t have woken up to the world knowing where they live and what their phone number is.”

“and if you’re watching. i sincerely apologise. i clearly was full of myself.” george finishes. ending the live with a small wave.

and were you watching? hell yes.

and that was the day the two of you followed each other on instagram.

he used your songs as his intros of his live, (with your permission, of course.) you showed in your documentary that you were watching whenever he was live or watching his youtube videos.

and that was the start to a beautiful relationship.

you sat on the chair, going live. you waved as people started joining. it went from hundreds, to thousands in seconds.

as you were talking and clicking on your keyboard and mouse, playing a game, you felt arms around your shoulders.

you smiled, yet continued playing.

“why are you live on my account?” he laughs.

you disconnected the headphones so that he could hear what you were hearing.

“george, you’re being replaced.” dream said on discord.

george smiles, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “that was well deserved.”

#georgenotfound imagines #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound fanfic #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound

121 notes · View notes

diamond-coral · 3 years

Text

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down.

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America.

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.”

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot.

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through.

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader

190 notes · View notes

beauvibaby · 3 years

Text

become a family – a.beauvillier

You hadn’t meant to keep Gia a secret from your childhood friend, really honestly, you two had just lost touch, and by the time you found out you were pregnant and her dad left, it felt wrong to reach out simply to tell him that. So you didn’t.

But when you found out you were relocating to New York, Long Island specifically. You knew you had no choice but to reach out, it only made sense, it felt wrong not too. “Mommy.” Gia whined, “play!” She demanded with a tilt of her chubby face, motioning to the Minnie Mouse tea set she had sprawled across your tiny unpacked apartment floor. “Just a second baby.” You assured her with a soft laugh, you read the message you had typed out, you let out a deep breath and pushed send before moving to join your daughter on the floor, forcing the thought of checking your phone to the back of your mind.

“Hey, Tito. I know we haven’t spoken in forever, but I’m moving to Long Island, with my daughter, I thought it’d be nice to meet up sometime. Hope all is well!”

When he got the notification from Instagram, both of you long having lost each other’s phone numbers, his heart stopped briefly, he scrambled to unlock his phone, Mat eyeing him suspiciously. Tito read the message at least five times before what you said had processed with him, he clicked on your profile, he hadn’t really paid much attention to your posts, and they were so far and few between, he scrolled to the first one that was baby related.

A picture of your sonogram in front of your crossed legs, your ready to pop stomach on display, “just me and you against the world baby girl.”

Tito’s heart clenched in his chest, guilt, curiosity and sadness running through him, he scrolled to the next, a simple black and white photo of Gia when she was born, the caption only being her date of birth. The next wasn’t for another six months or so, the two of you in a small apartment back home. “Gia and mommy’s first place!”

He went through them all quickly, up to the most recent, from just before you sent the message, you with Gia on your hip, the two and a half year old hanging on tightly to you with a giggle as you grinned at the camera, your keys hanging off your finger. “New beginnings…”

“Tito? Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mat finally spoke up, Tito nodded, “you remember, Y/N? Right?” He questioned his friend, Mat nodded, curiously. “She’s here.” Tito whispered, Mat raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she's here?” “She moved to Long Island.”

***

You truthfully had forgotten to check your phone that night, you ended up putting Gia to bed late and you simply passed out right after. So when you woke, the memories came flooding back, you rushed to grab your phone, seeing a response on your Instagram.

“Long Island? A kid??? We definitely need to meet up, I’m dying to know everything. Missed you.”

Your heart returned to normal at his response, thankful that he was accepting and not shutting you out.

“Missed you too, you became a big shot! I’m taking Gia to a park down the street from my apartment today, I’ll send you the address if you want to come.”

That’s how you ended up here, pushing your daughter in the swing as she shrieked excitedly. Your laughter echoed through the remotely empty park, your attention solely on her as she had a nervous look on her face as the swing went a little higher, you slowed her down and she resumed her happy shouts. “Y/N.” Tito called, your head snapping in his direction, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he looked over at you with a grin, his eyes flickering between you and Gia. “Hi.” You grinned right back at him as he walked over to you, he wrapped his arms around you in a hug as he reached you, Gia slowly coming to a stop in the child swing. “Oh god, it’s been too long.” You spoke, voice muffled by his jacket. “Definitely.” He agreed easily, pulling away as Gia began to fuss. You pulled her out of the swing and she clung to you, eyeing him suspiciously, she was always particularly wary about men. “Hello.” He spoke softly to her, giving her a soft wave. She smiled weakly, hiding her face in your neck. “Say hi, Gia.” You whispered to her, she lifted her head, looking over at Tito who was still smiling fondly at her, “hi, Gia.” She spoke, sending you both into a fit of laughter. “We’re working on it.” You assured him through your giggles, your daughter dramatically hiding again. “That’s ok.” Tito assured you, noticing all the ways Gia resembled you.

“Lunch?” She whispered to you, wiggling to get down, “yes, let’s go.” You led her over to the covered portion of the park, where you had left your things, Tito followed behind you, holding in a chuckle at the way Gia happily ran towards the table, swinging her arms for exaggeration. You sat her up on the bench, sitting beside her and Tito sat across from the two of you, watching you silently, “how have you been?” You started speaking, feeling your skin warm up under his gaze. “Good, yeah, I’ve been good.” He answered, “what about you? Been busy I see.” He joked, Gia glanced up at him as she took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Yeah, she keeps me on my toes, in the best possible way.” You smiled at your daughter, she happily minded her own business, clueless to half the stuff you two spoke about. You told him about her dad, only using his name so she wouldn’t be confused, already learning that she didn’t have the two parents that some of her other friends have.

Jesse, you never expected him to work out long term, but you never expected to get pregnant either. Long story short, you told him and you gave him the option to not be involved, but he had to be committed to being a co parent or nothing at all. He chose the latter, and never looked back.

“That’s-“ “it’s good, I think, he wouldn’t have been able to stay committed.” You cut Tito off, not needing the apology speech again. He nodded, moving past the subject, a large grin started etching across his face as Gia tugged on your sleeve. You leaned down and smiled as she whispered to the best of her ability, “share?” She asked you, Tito cocked his head to the side as you nodded and leaned away. Gia grabbed one of her fruit gummies and held it out to Tito. “Share.” She mumbled cutely, smiling shyly with her head tilted down a little, just like you do. Tito gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “thank you!” He took it from her and popped it in his mouth, earning a genuine laugh from her that made his heart sore. Already so in love with your daughter and wanting nothing but the best for both of you. She tried to offer him more but he sweetly told her no, and that she should eat her lunch, she listened and continued snacking away. “Has she been to a game?” Tito asked you with a wicked grin, “no, actually, I haven’t been to a game since I had her.” You admitted, cringing as he gaped at you, muttering in French under his breath.

“I’m getting you tickets.” He spoke, already pulling his phone out, “what? No, Tito.” You rushed feeling guilty,

“Yes.” He stuck his tongue out at you, typing away on his phone before asking for your phone number to send you the info. You gave it to him, knowing he would just be stubborn anyways. “Thank you. Really. She’ll have a blast, I’m sure.” You spoke as you opened your phone to look at what he sent you, “Anthony!” You scolded, Gia jumping in her spot next to you, “Y/N!” He mimicked, giggling at your daughter who glared at him. “That’s too much, those seats are–“ “Those seats are necessary.” He cut you off, “it’s final. No take backs.” He teased, much like he did when the two of you were younger. You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile, “fine, you better win, for her.” You told him, motioning to Gia who was getting sleepier by the second. “I should take her home.” You added as she yawned, her head resting against her arms on the table. He smiled at her eyes fluttering shut, “yeah, but I’ll see you at the game, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he stood up, you nodded, moving to give him a hug goodbye.

You watched with a bursting heart as he pushed some of Gia’s hair back, leaving a feathery light kiss to her full cheek, “bye, sweetheart.” He whispered, she whined, nestling further into herself. You wiped at your eyes once he was no longer facing you, the sight before you simply pulling on your heart strings.

***

You adjusted the jerseys on yours and Gia’s bodies, the both of you wearing jeans with them. She smiled at the excitement on your face, “do you remember mommy’s friend we met yesterday, Tito?” You questioned her as you walked hand in hand to the elevator, she looked up at you curiously, “we’re going to see him do his job, you get to watch them play hockey.” You explained to her, she simply smiled, all oblivious to what you meant, but she got excited because you were excited. “Teo.” She spoke, an attempt at his name, not very good but adorable nonetheless. You whipped your phone out, squatting down in the elevator, you started recording her, “who are we going to see?” You asked her, she shook her head happily, her pigtails bouncing around, “teo!” She said proudly, clapping for herself. “Tito, good job.” You praised her before ending the clip, you sent it to him with a thumbs up before continuing to acknowledge Gia’s babbling.

He responded quicker than you thought he would, “I guess I’ve grown on her.” He sent a heart afterwards, presumably putting his phone away for the night to prepare for the game.

Gia whined as she clung to you, terrified of all the people surrounding the both of you, “it’s alright honey.” You shushed her as you slowly inched forward in the line, she nodded against you, arms wrapped around your neck and legs trying to wrap around your waist. You thanked the person as they scanned your tickets, letting you two begin the journey to your overpriced glass side seats. You were relieved to see they had already begun warm ups so she would be distracted by them, once she adjusted to her surroundings you knew she’d be fine. “Look baby, see how fast they go.” You held her up, pointing out to the ice, she instantly became mesmerized by them whizzing by. You sighed in relief as you tried to spot the oh so familiar number 18. The two of you wearing jerseys with his name, something you knew he would get a charge out of, as long as you could remember, you would wear his number to his games. And now would be no different.

You spotted him at the same time he spotted you, a bright smile coming over his face as he flicked a puck up and caught it in his hand, skating over to you. He waved at you and Gia and she grinned, recognizing him and suddenly no longer being shy as she tapped on the glass with an amused smile. “Hi!” She shrieked, earning a laugh from him. He motioned the puck in his hand and you nodded, easily catching it as he tossed it over, handing it to Gia who stared at it in amazement, “good luck.” You mouthed, fist bumping the glass like you did as a teenager, he grinned and did the same before skating off, some of his friends nudging him and asking questions as you settled into your seat for the night.

Gia enjoyed the game and the loud sounds more than you thought she would, she adjusted quickly to the slamming of the boards, if anything, you think that may have been her favorite part.

Once the game was over, you were directed by Tito to tell one of the arena employees your name and they’d bring you down to see him. Much to your surprise, it worked, Gia was antsy to be let down to run around, and thankfully the person leading you through the huge building was a sweet young girl, probably your age, who was just absolutely loving Gia. “Just go to the right, and stop at the double doors.” She explained to you as the elevator came to a stop, “thank you.” You smiled, ushering Gia onto the concrete floor, her laughter echoing as she had some room to run around and burn up some of her energy. You were speed walking behind her just to keep up with her little legs, “baby, hang on!” You called, sighing as you rushed to grab her, just in time too as the doors opened and a couple of guys walked out, thankfully Tito was one of them. “Hey.” You breathed out, Gia looked over, “teo!” She ran over to him, putting her arms up, he looked at you for approval, “oh, of course.” You gave him a look, as if you wouldn’t trust him with your daughter. He easily lifted her up, smile widening when she wrapped her little arms around him. A stark difference to her greeting yesterday. “You must be, Y/N.” One of them spoke to you as Gia began babbling to Tito who nodded along enthusiastically. “I am.” You responded, shaking his hand, “Mat.” He grinned, you nodded knowingly, “I know, I follow the sport.” You teased him, earning a snicker from Tito as he walked over to you. “Hey.” He mumbled, giving you a one armed hug as Gia refused to leave his hold. You lightly tickled your daughter as she hid in his neck from all the other guys. “You played good.” You assured him, he smiled softly in return before introducing you to some of his teammates, laughing when you became all shy, staying close to him and your daughter. You answered all the questions they threw at you, not noticing Gia was drifting off on Tito’s shoulder until she was already out like a light.

***

It’s been about 6 weeks since that game, the season kicking into full gear, Tito traveling very often but still coming over to see you guys when he wasn’t on the road, and today, he was coming over for the first time in two weeks, and Gia had no idea. The relationship between them was more than you could ever ask for, even yours and Tito’s relationship had changed, it wasn’t even spoken, it just happened, one night as he was leaving after you put Gia down. You leaned up to kiss his cheek but he turned, not knowing what you were doing. You both jumped back, muttering apologies, but you kept your hands on his chest, slowly you inched back together, your lips coming together softly.

Then it became more often, sneaking in kisses here or there, I miss you texts, phone calls. And now, now you were bouncing with excitement just to see him.

Tito knocked on the door with a wide smile, excited to see his two favorite girls, that thought running through his head the whole trip back, in his mind, he wanted to call you his, but he knew he hadn't even spoken to you about what this was.

You rushed over to open the door, Gia only just waking from her nap, “hi.” You whispered immediately being engulfed in his arms, yours going to wrap around his neck. “I missed you.” He admitted into your hair, kissing the side of your head, “I missed you too.” You assured him, leaning away to meet his eyes, something went unspoken between you two as he pulled you in for a kiss. This one was different though, more powerful than the rest had been. You sighed against him, melting into his hold as you kissed him back slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. “Tito.” You went to speak after you pulled back to breathe, “yeah, I know.” He murmured, pecking your lips again before finally stepping all the way inside. “Is she sleeping?” He frowned, wanting to see her, “she’s starting to wake up, I heard her fussing.” You explained, neither of you making any effort to untangle yourselves. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like a date.” Tito asked, you nodded instantly, “can’t we just count all the times you’ve stayed over here late as dates?” You teased, instantly making him relax. “Well, then I think it’s fine if I do this, as much as I want.” He joked, kissing you again, squeezing your hips.

“I think so too.” You agreed, pulling away once you heard Gia climbing out of her bed. “Gia, I have a surprise!” You called, hearing her giggle and run down the hall, she saw you and then she saw Tito standing beside you. What neither of you expected was the word about to come out of her mouth, “daddy!” You nearly passed out right there, literally swaying and having to grip Tito for stability. She hugged his legs, looking up at him with a grin. “Tito.” He corrected her gently, lifting her up once you regained your composure. “Hi, sweet girl.” He tickled her sides as he hugged her tightly, her laughter filling the room, you smiled at the sight, hoping that one day this would become a reality.

****

“Rough day?” You questioned Gia as she dramatically huffed and sat at the kitchen counter beside her sister. “Yes.” Gia spoke with a sigh, you held back your laughter, knowing that 1st grade could just be oh so difficult, Tito walked in a moment after with her backpack and lunch box, smiling at you as you held the two month old to your chest. He walked over to the girls, laughing at the bored expression on Gia’s face as she watched her two year old sister munch away on her fruit, “hi princess.” Tito greeted Sadie with a kiss to the head, before making his way over to you, kissing your lips and whispering a hello before taking the baby from you. He smiled as Cade gripped his finger tightly, looking up at his dad with the bright blue eyes that they shared. “Daddy, can we go for ice cream tonight?” Gia pouted at him, using the look she got from you that made him cave immediately. He glanced at you, who nodded, “only because it’s friday.” He pointed an accusing finger at her, watching as her annoyed expression broke into a smile. “Thank you!” She sang happily bounding to her room upstairs. You laughed at the sigh he let out, “Aw, did you have a rough day too, honey?” You teased, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his free arm around you, Sadie coughing for attention and succeeding as you both looked over to make sure she wasn’t choking. She only smiled, Tito’s smile as she continued to eat her blueberries slowly, you glared lightly at her as she giggled. “I did have a rough day, thanks for asking.” He mused.

“My wife didn’t text me once all day.” He pouted at you, “I’m so sorry, I assumed you would be busy working and all.” You laughed at him, cupping his stubbled jaw, “how ever did you survive?” You asked with fake concern. “I’m not really sure. But I did, and I lived long enough to pick her up from school, I’ve earned my ice cream.” He quipped.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

#anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier #Anthony Beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier imagine #Tito Beauvillier

252 notes · View notes

cdelphiki · 4 years

Text

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #caged #batman #batfam #red hood #robin #tim drake #jason todd #c writes #fanfiction #injuries #hurt/comfort #batbros #cross posted to ao3

870 notes · View notes

migilini · 3 years

Note

Can I request an imagine with Charlie and like a typical day in their lives? Like they show their YouTube viewers their casual (Charlie chaos included) day? 💕

Typical - Charlie Gillespie

a/n: Sorry it took me a bit, had to take my wisdom teeth out... Anyways, I hope you like it :)) - Momo

words: 1.3k

warnings: fluffy like the clouds

requests are open :)

My MASTERLIST

----------------------------

“Hello hello and welcome back!” you told the camera propped up on one of your kitchen counters. The shot showing your tired face and loose pyjamas. A yawn escaped your slightly chapped lips as you tried to stretch the sleep away. Your eyes were heavy, your hair standing up in every possible direction, your body not fully awake yet.

“A lot of people asked for a little day to day vlog with the Gillespies,” you muttered as you made yourself a cup of coffee, the sparkling ring on your left ring finger very prominent in the shot.

“So we try to deliver! I just woke up a couple of minutes ago so excuse the light grogginess and don't know where my fiance is. Seems like you guys have to put up with only me for a bit.” you chuckled and poured milk into the steaming hot beverage.

“Sadly, we really don't have a lot to do today, well not much is planned…” you referred to the normal chaos a day with Charlie entailed. “We just need to run some errands, but I have a gut feeling that today will be a good one.”

You ended the clip and moved into your living room to turn up the radio. Ever since you were little, there was always some sort of music softly playing and therefore you hated a quiet house. It wasn't like you paid attention to the songs dancing through the air but the constant rumbling of background noise calms you down.

A little yellow piece of paper on the coffee table catches your eye. With furrowed eyebrows, you made your way over. Your eyes grew as you recognized Charlie's messy handwriting. Once again, you started a clip on your camera.

“I just found a secret message from Charlie on our coffee table.” you cleared your throat and started reading the note dramatically “‘Good morning Toots! I’m on a run and didn't want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful. I'll bring coffee from Allie’s. I love you, C Swizzle’” you grinned at the note, your heart beating faster with the love you have for him. “Hereby I declare the mystery where C Swizzle aka Char is as solved! I’m so hyped for the coffee. Allie’s is our favourite place in the whole city! Seriously if you're close by go and try it. So worth it. Now, until he’s back I’m gonna answer some emails and do our dishes from yesterday evening. You’re welcome to join me while I jam out to music.”

You propped the camera up on a shelf, filming yourself working for a bit. Then you went to the kitchen and turned up the music blaring out of the speakers you set up mere moments before. “Whenever I walk in the room. All the focus on me. The way I talk, the way I move. They all want on my team. Not tryin' to brag, brag, but I'm flawless.” screaming on the top of your lungs, you swayed your hips while the water from your tap filled the sink, the soap starting to bubble up.

“I'm taking over your playlist. Ain't perfect, but I can't miss, yeah. The party don't start 'til I walk in. I'm stealing all the attention. Don't get me started on mentions, yeah” A poor spoon had to be a placeholder microphone as you jumped through the small kitchen. Genuinely engulfed in the music, you didn't even hear the front door open and close. You didn't hear the footsteps walking towards you or the light chuckle that escaped the person's lips.

Sweaty arms wrapped themselves around your waist, making you scream and drop the cup you’ve been washing. The ceramic dish exploded on the floor, covering it in tiny splinters and shards. Charlie laughed at your reaction and pressed a loving kiss to your shoulder. “Sorry, Toots didn't want to scare you. I thought you heard me come in. Good morning by the way.” At the sound of his voice, you immediately relaxed. You weren't being murdered by an intruder. Turning around in his arms, you faced your boyfriend, your back pressed against the sink.

“I thought this was my last minute on earth. You really want to kill me before you even have the chance to marry me.” you chuckled and kissed his nose. “Where would be the fun in that? I do want to inherit some of your stuff.”

You lightly shoved him away but his arms stayed looking around your smaller frame. Looking down at the cup you frowned. “That was my favourite.”

“I'll get you another one. One that's even better than this one. Again I’m sorry.”

“I'll remember that. How was the run?” absentmindedly your hand brushed away some stray hairs that flew into Charlie's face. “Good.” he murmured “I don't like running with a mask on but it was all worth it because…” he turned around and got a little bag from the counter behind him. “I got us some coffee and that cream bagel you like so much.” you beamed up at him.

“Really?”

The next time you vlogged was at the grocery store several hours later. Charlie was pushing the shopping cart, while still holding your hand as you tried to deceiver your own grocery list. The camera sat comfortably at the front of the cart, framing you perfectly.

“Why did you think it was funny to write most of this in french?” you asked the boy next to you. He gave your hand a squeeze “Because you sometimes write stuff in german as well. It's only fair.”

You only rolled your eyes at that. “Yeah because I forgot the English word.” you huffed “Okay so we need d'oeufs. Eggs? And some milk. Right?”

“Mais oui mademoiselle.” He said amused.

“If you continue I will start to speak german,” you warned your boyfriend and you could bet that he was smiling under that mask.

“Threatening me in the grocery store? That's mean but the game is on honey.”

“You're gonna lose my dear. I had some french at school.” you let go of his hand and crossed your arms, raising one of your eyebrows at him while both of you grabbed some items you needed.

It wasn't the first time that the two of you suddenly challenged each other. One time, a couple of months ago, Charlie just randomly started to run and yelled back at you “Whoever is the last at the restaurant has to pay!” and with these words, he triggered your ambition. You struggled to get rid of your heels, hoping for the majority of the way as the two of you raced, reaching the restaurant sweaty and out of breath, earning some stares from other couples. Or another time where you suddenly claimed that you would be able to eat more pizza than him. A bet that you lost terribly.

Situations like this were normal for you, both really competitive and hardheaded. It was one of the things that spiced up daily life.

He raised both of his eyebrows, sparking a fire behind his eyes. “Essaie-moi, baby (Try me, baby)”

“In Ordnung, ab jetzt werde ich nur noch deutsch mit dir sprechen. (Alright, from now on I will only talk in german to you)”

Let’s just say the grocery shopping was a huge mess and took twice as long. You told Charlie to go and get the toothpaste and he came back with some pears which earned a laugh from you. Charlie tried to explain to you what he wanted to cook for you tomorrow evening, ingredients and everything but you only stared at him confused, occasionally nodding your head so he knew you were still listening. The dinner was gonna be a full surprise.

The two of you kept the act up all the way back to your apartment. You unpacked the food and had a camera recording somewhere. For the second time that day, arms wrapped around your waist, his head nuzzled in the crook of the neck.

“Do you have anything else planned for today?” he mumbled into your skin, his hot breath on your skin giving you goosebumps. A smile spread over your face. Wiggling out of his grip you sat on the tabletop and Charlie immediately stood between your legs, his arms around your neck. He leaned in to kiss you but before his lips touched yours you whispered “I won.”

His eyes grew wide and he pulled away slightly. He huffed and shook his head “Man I totally forgot about that. What is your prize, my lady?”

You traced his jaw with your index finger whilst your eyes never left his. “I demand… a thousand kisses!”

“A thousand?!” he exclaimed “My lady that's too many. You're going to starve the whole town.”

“Well then the town shouldn't have lost.” you teased back.

A smile was prominent on his face as he leaned in closer again “I must say you're a demanding ruler. But it seems like I must comply…”

The two of you stayed in bed for the rest of the day, only moving over to the couch to zap through Netflix. Naturally one of you already placed the camera on the shelf next to you.

Charlie tapped you on the shoulder, looking up from his spot half between your legs and on top of you.

“Yes, bubbs?”

“Play with my hair please.” he nearly whispered and made himself comfortable once again. Tiny hands finding their place in his dark hair.

At first, it was really weird to vlog all the time especially on a day where you and Charlie were just fooling around and being lovey-dovey. Luckily, you could still decide how much you wanted to cut out for the final video.

----------------------------

Taglist: @alluringworld

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfic

179 notes · View notes

ogravensimp · 3 years

Text

Dad!Constantine AU: Rhiannon

first one shot in my Dad!Constantine AU but there is plenty more of this to come so enjoy and make sure to tell me what you think :D

"John? What's that? Is it a tool to help us practice today? John? Is tha-”

Constantine couldn't help but chuckle at the string of questions coming from behind him. He began to think about how less than a few months ago the little girl would barely say a word a day…now he can’t get her to ever shut up.

He turned around and looked down at the tiny figure that sat cross-legged on his rug, who only looked back up at him with confusion in her huge purple eyes. Unlike the ancient power that was leaking out of her, the child in front of him looked exactly as harmless as you'd expect a 7-year old to look.

With her dark-plum hair unevenly clipped short to reach her chin and choppy bangs to cover the red gem on her forehead, it really gave you the illusion that she was a normal human child. And John liked to pretend that the terrible haircut helped achieve a more ‘innocent’ look and in fact, better hid her demonic origins…but that was probably just his only defence against his conscience that nagged at him for not going to a professional.

But hey, she was the one that begged him to cut off her originally waist-length hair and he gave it his best shot with the tools at his disposal—which happened to only be a pair of kitchen scissors, an old magazine for reference and a faded ruler for 'accuracy', but at least Raven seemed happy enough.

He felt his lip tug as he remembered how she had childishly bobbed her head left and right in the mirror afterwards; enjoying the liberation of short hair.

It seemed Azarath’s refusal to cut her hair off was the only thing the kid seemed to dislike about the place.

In fact, she had thrown a near fit when John recommended they ditch the tattered white Azarathian robes he had found her in when he pulled her from the depths of hell. He looked at her current outfit and noted that she seemed to have grown quite comfortable with the human clothes given to her.

She currently donned a large purple knit sweater and a pair of baggy jeans with flowers sewn on the legs. They were probably in style twenty years ago and weren't even her size but John had limited knowledge on where to find children's clothes(or about children in general) and assumed she'd just 'grow into them someday' when he had chosen them from a local thrift store.

Again, as long as Raven liked them.

"This, my little angel, is a music record," he held up the square packaging to her and made a show of sliding out the large disk inside, "This plays music. They allow music up in that Azarath place of yours or just prayers?"

"In Azarath? No, not really," John noticed whenever that cult of her's was brought up, she'd always lower her tone and look down at her fingers as if apprehensive of speaking wrong of them—John didn't know why though, they sounded like a bunch of wankers to him, "Azar said that music is a distraction that would only disrupt my mind by causing me to feel...feelings."

John felt the melancholy in the air as she spoke. It was rare she shared anything; for a kid, she was pretty secretive and John couldn't help but push to know more about his new ward, "And that's a no go, ey?"

"Only for me." She seemed almost smaller now, trying to hide deeper in her baggy clothes—maybe that's why she never pushed for more accurately sized clothes, "The others would sometimes gather to sing mantras in the courtyard as that’s the only type of music allowed but during those times Azar would always put me in the highest tower so I never really heard anything but muffles.”

John sighed.

Sometimes he didn't know if those quacks in Azarath wanted to actually raise Raven or terminate her but the more he learnt, the more he found the answer leaning towards the latter.

He crossed the living room in one large step and kneeled to be face to face with the little girl who stared up at him, nervous, "Listen, angel, I don't know much about Azarathian chants but I do know...", this time he allowed the girl to touch the record—though gently, "Fleetwood Mac. The best band in the world."

"What makes them so special?", Raven asked softly as she marvelled at the disc in her hand; holding it like it was a precious treasure.

John smiled— something he found himself doing a lot of since the arrival of this certain hellspawn. Plucking the records from the girl's small hands, he stood up and reapproached the player he was standing by, "Let me tell you a little secret in the magical community, love."

He placed the record on the player before dropping the pin and quickly turning, excited to see the reaction on the girl's face. Raven just looked confused, her mini caterpillar eyebrows scrunching up on her forehead as the guitar intro began.

"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

He plopped onto the floor next to Raven and turned to her, "You hear her? Like a voice from heaven, innit?"

The little girl just nodded, probably unsure of the right answer.

"Takes to the sky like a bird in flight And who will be her lover?"

"Her name is Stevie Nicks and she's...one of us," He made a gesture of pointing between both of them to symbolise his point, his smile growing as her amethyst eyes twinkled in interest, " The 'White Witch' we call her but non-supernatural's don't know nothing about that, all they hear is the music but we, we can truly hear her."

"All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind

Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?"

Taking her tiny palms in his, he instructed, “Now I want you to focus on your inner soul.”

She obediently followed instructions, letting her eyes fall closed and she instantly shifts to focus mode with an expression as still as a statue.

"She is like a cat in the dark And then she is to darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark And when the sky is starless"

Through her delicate skin, he could feel her once-raging magic begin to ease from the form of a ceaselessly pouring tsunami to simple irregular waves in a vast ocean.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

See, with Stevie Nicks being a witch herself, it only makes sense that some of her magic got laced inro all her music. Magic that had the properties to almost soothe one's magical core and opened up internal gates that were causing a blockage in one's being.

Similar to meditation. Just a whole lot more fun.

John simply didn’t believe in all that meditation stuff that Raven so pliably relied on and if he was going to take her in, it was his duty to teach her the many other ways she can control her abilities.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

"I can feel it...I can feel what she's saying." Raven's voice was so soft that John almost didn't catch what was spoken.

Suddenly there was an intense spike in the calm aura that's once surrounded them. He felt the hands in his grasp tense as her once still expression drastically changed.

"She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

Her small face was soon blown in full panic. Sweating like bullets, her already drained of life skin seemed even paler and the strength she used to struggle suppressed what a child of her stature should be able of achieving but John made sure to hold tight.

"She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover? All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind"

"John I don't like this! I...I can feel too much... make it stop!", Her eyelids shuddered as she seemed to be forcing them to stay shut.

Continuing to wiggle in his grasp, the magic concentration in the room got thicker and thicker making it harder to breathe but this was exactly what needed to happen and John knew this. So even though her hurting voice made his heart shatter, he had no choice but to steel his resolve in the face of her cries and just hope it will pay off, “John!? John, please….DAD!”

John didn’t know what hurt more, the way her demonic magic was stabbing him like shards of glass in his skin or the pain in her voice as she called him the title he never in his life thought he’d be referred as.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

“This is all your magic, angel, you got to feel your magic. Can't just lock it up, this is all you,”, he gritted his teeth while he was explaining, and filled with some unknown determination, he spat out a phrase he normally tried to avoid, “you have to trust me.”

Raven’s eyes flew open at that, revealing the orbs of amethyst that were wetting with tears. Her little mind struggled to wrap around the statement John had just said and for a moment she just stared at him. It felt like the longest moment of John’s life because he knew her empathic abilities could see the nervous wreck he truly is and he worried that would dissuade her.

For a second there was no action.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

Until, much to John’s surprise, she nodded, “ok…I trust you.”

And John could literally feel the truth in her words as she stopped struggling in his hands and started to return back to the focused zone she had been in before.

This time though, her eyes were open and staring straight at him but John found himself not minding.

“Good.” John took on the role of closing his eyes as he began to concentrate.

"Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky"

He wasn’t going to just burden a 7-year-old with whatever destructive sorcery that was sealed in her small body, it was his job as her teacher and her…dad to try and guide the freed magic back to her core.

But for that, he needs to concentrate real hard.

The moment John could feel air moving in his lungs again, he knew he had succeeded. Opening his eyes up, he was met with the same pools of purple still staring.

“So, how’d you feel?”

"Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind"

That was when Raven finally broke eye contact and instead looked down at her fingers, not in nervousness but this time in amazement, as if she could see the magic in her fingertips, “I don’t know…tingly.”

This time Constantine let a deep genuine laugh escape his throat at her childish choice of words, “That’s good, means your magic is finally spreading. If you ask me that’s a better option than keeping it all sealed up.”

Raven tilted her head to the side, once again confused.

Constantine didn’t blame her though, her little head was probably going through something similar to a whirlwind at this point.

After all, in her first few years of life, she had lived a life of nothing but restriction and then he spawns from nowhere finds and brings her from hell, seals her oh-so scary father in said hell and then begins to dismantle everything she’s ever been thought to believe in, in the first place.

Must be a lot for a 7-year-old to bear.

Luckily though, Raven is 7 and they aren’t known for dwelling on things for too long.

“Do you have any more songs like that?” She asked, now focused on the player that stood in silence now that the record had reached its end.

John smirked at that, “Oh plenty more of where that came from and we aren’t gonna stop at just Fleetwood, we got some Zeplin, Rolling Stones and…”

Raven just nodded, again, not knowing the right answer and simply letting herself be ‘educated’ on all things that John Constantine had to offer.

In her opinion, this was far more fun than her old teachings.

yes I got the Stevie Nicks is a witch from ahs coven, so expect a lot more supernatural TV crossovers in this AU cause they're now my obsession

#this family au is my comforte fantasy #raven teen titans #john constantine #dad!constantine #teen titans #dc comics #hellblazer #constantine & raven #fanfic #raven dc

62 notes · View notes