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miscfandomwrites · 3 months

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This was an interesting request. I was asked to do Natasha with a panic disorder, though there are PTSD flashbacks included with these. I noticed that while I was starting to write this, ideas and scenes started coming and were basically pouring out of my mind...so this was really good.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Student! Reader

Warnings: Natasha has a panic / ptsd attack,

Words: 1.1k

Requested by: ? Was my old account

Tagging: @tyler-t0t ~~

“It is currently four thirty a.m, on May fifth twenty twenty one, the weather outside is fifty three degrees and it is said that it will rain off and on all day.” FRIDAY’S voice chimed through my room, rousing me from my bed and forcing me to cross the room to shut it off or she would start repeating it on and on again until I lost my shit.

Why am I up this early again? I don’t think I have anything impor-oh.

Finals.

The last two weeks were filled with massive studying blocks, and the occasional movie night with the team. Despite being in my late twenties, when S.H.I.E.L.D. offered to pay for college classes, I took them up on that offer. I went back over to my bedside and straightened my bed out, then drank some water as I scrolled through and checked my phone.

I was given a month off of Avenger duty to do my finals, as long as I helped with reconnaissance...and took up a three month recon mission afterwards. The last thing I wanted to do, but there’s always a price to pay and a balance to serve.

A quick shower, a change of clothes, a bagel, and a cup of coffee later, I padded back into my room and stretched. It was almost five, and I decided to see if Natasha was awake before I started a two-hour study block. I never liked to be interrupted unless it was absolutely necessary during those times, so I made a point to check on her before and after I started them.

Lately, ever since she got back from a mission with Bucky she’s been a bit distant, and only from Bucky did I learn that they found an old training center for the black widows. No one was there, but I’m dead certain that is fucked with Natasha. Since then, both Bucky and I have been trying to keep an eye on her the best we can. She looked almost hollow when she got back, dark circles under her eyes, her normally bright red, fluffy hair, was dark and dull. Her skin was a lot paler and she had lost a decent amount of weight. She had asked me to cut her hair, which was past her shoulders at this point, back to around her ears. That was definitely when I knew something was up.

I knocked softly before opening the door, peering into the room. The fairy lights that I got her for christmas that she strung around her room were on, and she was curled into a ball on the bed, clutching the stuffed bunny I got her a while ago. She looked almost peaceful, but her face was still tense. The fact that she was holding a gun in her hand didn’t help either. Whatever happened there, whatever she saw, triggered this…

I peeked around the room and noticed a laundry basket filled past the brim with clothes, including a few of her favored hoodies, which unsurprisingly were all mine. I quietly slid it out the door and carried it to the laundry room, starting it and setting a timer on my phone to switch it when it was done. Passing back to my room, I glanced in and upon noticing she was still asleep, I quietly closed the door. I flipped the sign on my door around to ‘Studying, two hour block. Please do not disturb unless you want to get a knife thrown at your head.’ and closed my door.

Roughly an hour into my study session, my alarm went off and I quickly ducked out of my room and started down the hallway to switch the laundry before pausing. That’s when I heard it.

Screaming, coming from Nat’s room.

The door was still closed, and locked, apparently as I shoved it open breaking said lock in the process. She was sitting on the ground, back to the wall holding her hands in front trying to fend off Bucky from touching her while he crouched in front of her, yelling at her in Russian. Upon seeing me he turned and motioned towards her, switching back to English.

“She was yelling, and you didn’t hear so I went to check and she started attacking me, I can’t get her to calm down, I don’t know what to do-” he started, before another scream and what sounded like heavy, heavy Russian threats came from Natasha. She looked horrified, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Then it hit me; she thought she was back in the Black Widow training, and didn’t know he wasn’t trying to hurt her-

“Natasha, Natasha, Natasha look at me!” I said as I went over and grabbed the redhead’s arms, but not before her nails dragged across my face. I pinned them against the wall and looked at her, trying to even my breathing.

“Breathe, Nat. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re not there. You’re okay…” I told her.

I switched over to Spanish, telling Barnes to get the fuck out and to keep everyone off this floor until she was okay. There was definitely some colorful language thrown in there, but it was the least of my worries. My face throbbed, and I kept staring at Nat, keeping myself calm. I knew she would be calm if I showed I was, so I kept my breathing even and nodded towards her.

I adjusted my grip on her hands so it was less forceful, and started in Russian. “You’re free, you escaped, he is free, he is not going to harm you, you’re free, you escaped…” the same chant we had going when these attacks started happening a few years ago when she saw Bucky sometimes.

Finally, finally after what felt like a lifetime her breathing was even and she started to relax a bit.

Clearing her throat, and in a raspy voice she finally spoke to me in English: “I hurt you....” I nodded.

“It’s already clotted, it’s okay, love, I’ll be fine. C’mere..” I replied as I released her hands and opened my arms for her. The force in which she threw herself into them knocked me flat on my ass, but I happily accepted it and pulled her close to her, rubbing my hands on her back and kissing the top of her head.

“It’s okay, my love, you’re alright...it’s over..” I whispered as she nodded. We stayed like that for a long while, just holding each other.

#miscfandomwrites #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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spenzitz · 2 years

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LOVING THEM ~ BSD

a/n~this is a new thing? it's definitely out of my comfort zone, but I've been thinking about it for a while, so here you go! words~ 524

dazai, atsushi, ranpo, gn!reader, this is my first time writing for ranpo so uh, tw :)

DAZAI

loving dazai is putting up with his shit. when it's 7 in the morning, and you should have been up half an hour ago, but dazai was just too tired. too tired to get out of bed but awake enough to talk your ear off about whatever popped in his head.

when you finally do roll out of bed, you have to pull dazai along with you by his hand. you drag him to the bathroom to brush his teeth while you go get dressed and bring him his clothes.

there's something about getting dressed that changes his mindset from tired and half asleep to awake and energized. suddenly, dazai is the one dragging you around to get ready for the day. he makes you some breakfast which ends up being kinda terrible and a waste of food. but "thank you, dazai. it's lovely" is all you can manage to say to him.

you're both late for work that day, something you never did before dating dazai. but this is your new normal, and you think it might be worth it.

ATSUSHI

loving atsushi is taking care of him. see, atsushi has no concept of self-care(or love, lmao), so you have to do it for him.

one time, he stayed up until 3am doing paperwork because he didn't want kunikida to be mad at him. so he only got like 3 hours of sleep. the next day, he was completely useless like the dude should not have shown up. he also doesn't like coffee(he says it's too bitter, same atsushi...), so you couldn't really help him.

similar things happen for a while until you realize that he doesn't understand the problem. he genuinely thinks everyone does this, and it's ok. you realize if you don't have a conversation with him soon, he's gonna end up killing himself. so, you make him a rule saying that he can't do work after 7pm except in special circumstances.

you also have to make sure that he eats three meals a day and drinks plenty of water. he's so confused when you put a sandwich on his desk around noon. he's like, "but i already ate this morning?" or when you ask him if he's drank any water today. you really do wonder how he survived after getting kicked out of the orphanage.

RANPO

loving ranpo is bringing him snacks. he's a simple man. what can I say?

"thank you, my dear," he announces when you walk into the office. you grin as you drop off your bag on your desk and make your way to his. "for what, honey?" you say, pulling up a chair to his desk and propping your head on your hands.

he glances up at you from his work, peering over his glasses "for the food you brought me" he says all smug. you let out a big dramatic sight, " I just can't keep anything from you can I?"

"of course not!" ranpo closes his laptop and looks at you with pleading eyes. "you're not getting them until lunch!" you say definitively. he looks defeated but doesn't argue. he decides he'll let you win for once.

masterlist

requests~open

#dazai x reader #atsushi x reader #ranpo x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #osamu dazai x reader

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leafs-lover · 2 years

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Too Far Gone - Part Thirty Eight

Series Masterlist

A/N: Over the next few parts there are going to be some time jumps (typically only a few days) the dates will be specified to help you follow along.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, alcohol and substance abuse, mental health issues (mainly depression), maybe some swearing

Word Count: 2600

September 4, 2019

Stepping into the backdoor of the beautiful house in Cabbagetown, Tia wants to be anywhere but there. She knew the house was going to be nice, based solely on the neighbourhood and beautiful exterior. But it is almost something from a magazine. Wide plank hardwood flooring, lightly painted walls, a simple canvas hanging over the couch that probably costs more than her rent. It’s exactly what she would expect from a well-known, and likely very expensive therapist, running her clinic from a lavish Toronto neighbourhood.

When Tia woke up, Auston didn’t ask how she was feeling, how she slept, or if she wanted a coffee. He told her to get ready because she had an hour until an appointment with Dr. Heidi Madger, the therapist from before. He didn’t give her a choice in the matter, a choice in the doctor, just that he would be driving her, as if she was a child who couldn’t be trusted.

“Hi Tia.” A middle-aged woman with short red hair sprinkled with grey welcomes her, “I’m Dr. Heidi Madger, you can call me Heidi if you prefer. Please,” she motions to the couch, “take a seat.” Walking over a few steps Heidi sits in the only other chair in the room, adjacent to Tia and grabs a notebook. “I’ve spoken a little with Auston, but I want to hear from you. Why are you here today?”

“Because he’s making me,” Tia replies sarcastically, scanning around the room taking in the three degrees that hang on the wall and few other trinkets scattered around on the shelves,

“And why is he making you?” Heidi poses the question and Tia stays silent, only prompting her to continue. “Auston set up sessions a few months ago that you never attended, why is now different?” she asks, her voice smooth but assertive.

Tia fights to not roll her eyes. Heidi knows. There is no way Auston managed an emergency appointment with three hours’ notice without telling her every detail. She knows, she has to know. Tia also knows she has two options, sit in complete silence for their time and deal with whatever repercussions come of that, or she can talk. And so, she does.

She tells her how Auston overreacted when he found her on the floor, that it was just the result of her celebrating a birthday with some friends, she drank a little too much, did a little too much drugs and lost track of time. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Do you often drink and do drugs for thirty hours straight?” Heidi queries, obvious she doesn’t believe her. Crossing one leg over the other, she stares at Tia over her glasses. “Is that a normal Sunday for you?”

“No, not at all,” she quickly defends herself, letting her dak brows furrow. “I mean it’s not like I haven’t done it before…I had never tried ecstasy…but I drink occasionally and have done cocaine a couple times.”

“What is occasionally to you?”

“I drink a glass of wine every couple nights,” Tia shrugs in response. “Used to do cocaine once a month, usually less.”

“Used to?” Heidi peers back over her notebook, “you do it more now?” Tia releases a frustrated sigh, directed more towards herself than anyone and looks away. “Tia,” she closes the notebook, “you get from these sessions what you put into them. The more you talk, the more I –“

“My dad raised me alone because my mom died in child birth.” Tia cuts her off and starts rambling. “He was in the army, special forces, so we moved around a lot – Albuquerque, San Antonio. Belgium, Zurich. That’s where I met Auston,” a faint smile spreads as Tia trails off, momentarily remembering the nervous eighteen-year-old with a boyish charm that took her breath away. “I was in my first year of college, he was playing in the Swiss hockey league…we dated for about five months and when he returned home after the season ended my dad blocked us from the other on social media. I thought he abandoned me; he thought I abandoned him, it was a good time,” Tia laughs dryly as she speaks rapidly.

“Six or so weeks after Auston left I found out I was pregnant, my dad basically told me having an abortion was my only option, I left and came to Toronto. I was alone and struggling for months, and it only got harder once Taylour was born. I almost put him up for adoption but then I became a stripper, and suddenly it was easier to raise a baby alone, I kind of had it figured out. Two years later Auston rolls in and practically railroaded my life. His ex-girlfriend…Claire…she uh,” Tia shakes her head trying to hide her building frustration, “she went to the media and told them what I do for work, and that I was an escort – which I’m not. My father returned and told me my mother was alive, and for five months I basically ignored that, because what the hell was I supposed to do with that information?” There is a bitterness building in her tone as she talks about the betrayal of both her parents.

“I went to work, took care of Taylour, slept with Auston a couple times - because sleeping with your ex is always a good idea,” Tia huffs. “Then I met Thomas, we started dating about two months ago. We drink, go to bars, see bands, and yeah,” she shrugs dismissively, “sometimes we do coke. It’s been good, we have been having fun together. Then on Sunday, for whatever reason, I decided to go see my mom, she wasn’t there but I did meet her husband, and found out for seven years she has been a stepmother to his two sons.” Tia rambles off, speaking so fast she can barely get a breath in. “Where do you want to start?” Tia asks, almost rhetorically, slowly becoming frustrated by Heidi’s lack of response.

The fact is, while Heidi didn’t physically react, she noticed everything in the way she spoke. She heard the way Tia’s voice dipped when she mentioned her father, how hurt and betrayal came through. She felt joy when Tia mentioned Taylour, but it was also there when talking about Auston, along with regret. She didn’t feel that same enthusiasm when Tia spoke about Thomas, and most certainly didn’t believe her when she described their relationship as good.

Heidi didn’t want to talk about most of those things Tia brought up, at least not yet. Heidi wanted to talk about Sunday and Monday, and all the events that transpired over the weekend. What Tia didn’t know is, Heidi was trying to determine if Tia needed more in-depth psychiatric care, if her behaviour warranted a 72-hour hold. So, while they would get to everything she brought up at some point, today’s meeting was solely about the next steps. If she would be returning home or to a local facility for additional care,

In order to get there, there was a lot of ‘how does that make you feel’ and ‘why do you think that is’ with Heidi scribbling in her notebook. It was all frustrating, painful even, then as the session neared the end, she set her notebook down and looked Tia directly in the eyes.

“I’m prescribing you anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication,” Heidi informs her. “Anti-anxiety medication is to be taken as needed, where the anti-depressants will be daily. We will start with one tablet a day, and will re-evaluate in a few weeks and increase as needed. I will write all this down for you, but I believe we will be seeing each other a bit during that time.” Heidi smiles to reassure her.

When her appointment was over Auston was parked out front, a few bags sitting in the trunk of his car. Tia dropped into the passenger seat and with sunglasses over her eyes she stared out the passenger window.

Auston kept peering over at her as he maneuvered the busy Toronto streets and all he could think about was how she didn’t look anything like the woman he once knew. Not just in the track pants and oversized t-shirt she has wearing in public, or the loose braid her hair was falling out of, but it’s like she was completely gone, and all that remained was a shell.

The air in the car was thick and uncomfortable, full of her heavy exhales and constantly adjusting her sunglasses and shifting to block him from her peripheral. Once they arrived at her building, she watched him pull three Louis Vuitton bags out of his trunk, along with a few suits. She didn’t ask him what he was doing, or if he wanted help, she just shut the passenger door and left him in the parking garage.

Besides Taylour, it didn’t seem like she talked to anyone. Later that afternoon Becks came over, and even though they were in her room with the door shut, it sounded quiet as if no words were being spoken.

What he didn’t know is she spent an hour talking to Heidi, and just wanted to not talk for a few minutes - to decompress. Becks let her do that. She said nothing and was just there for over a half hour. Tia lay on top of her unmade bed and stared blankly at the ceiling; fingers gently clasped together and resting on her stomach. Becks looked the exact same a few feet away, listening to the constant sighs and muttering under her breath. And finally, Tia started to talk to her friend, and Becks never pushed her for more information. She let Tia lead the conversation and express whatever she felt comfortable with in that moment, and it was exactly what Tia needed.

Around dinner Tia re-emerged from her room. She walked by Auston in the kitchen, tossed her phone on the couch and joined Taylour on the floor. He had his alphabet puzzle out, and the two of them sat together, trying to get him to identify the various letters, being rewarded with cuddles, tickles, or kisses. Auston loved to hear the laughter echoing through the apartment, and he got to work unpacking all of his belongings.

There was no way Auston was going to leave Tia alone. He considered bringing her to his house, with the spare room everyone would have space, they wouldn’t be crawling all over each other, and he has everything Taylour needs. But he also thought some normalcy would be good for her, and with Becks right down the hall she could easily pop in and check on her.

He told her this was the plan. Told her. Never asked her thoughts on the matter - as if she gave up the right to have an opinion. She knew he was worried. She knew walking into her apartment and finding her lying on the floor was troubling for him, but it almost felt like house arrest. He’d drive her to class, pick her up, take her to therapy, if she needed groceries or anything at the store he’d drive her – God forbid she was alone for more than five minutes. He was going to be everywhere.

September 14, 2019

“Auston, you know I can’t talk about a patient,” Heidi explains through the phone. He didn’t know why he thought after ten days he would be able to see some real progress, but the fact that he hasn’t concerns him.

It’s not complete and awkward silence like it was the first two nights. Every morning Tia will ask him if he wants a coffee, they play with Taylour and watch movies together. She’ll talk to him about dinner plans, thank him after every drive.

But anything beyond surface level topics are not brought up. She won’t talk about that day, or any day before or after. She won’t tell him if she is happy, upset, mad and if he asks she just falls silent. Auston found himself dreading the silence because he knew all the things she had been fighting on her own, he didn’t want her to do it alone anymore. He wants her to talk and to know she has his support; it doesn’t seem like she wants to hear it.

It’s beyond stressful for him, watching someone he loves be in pain, but not being able to do anything. He feels helpless, defeated, and he has to know she is okay. So much, that he called the one person he hoped she was talking to. Otherwise, he was paying a lot of money for her sit in silence.

“Everything Tia and I discuss is confidential,” Heidi tells him.

“I know it is,” he sighs frustratedly. “I thought she was dead…I’m worried about her,” Auston clenches his jaw as he takes a deep breath and exhales.

“I know that. If I thought she was a danger to herself or someone else, I would be legally obligated to get her put under a 72-hour hold, I haven’t done that because I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“I know about the Zoloft,” he admits to her, hoping to get some more information.

“Then you should also know it can take time for medication to have an impact on her, up to a month.”

“How am I supposed to help if she won’t talk to me?” Auston asks. His voice barely over a whisper as he fights to not let fear cloud his mind. All he has felt for the last ten days is fear. Every time Tia says ‘I’m fine’ or “I don’t want to talk about it’ panic only burns hotter inside of him. He needs Tia to talk to him to let him know if it’s working, and she never gives him more than a simple shrug or three worded responses.

Auston hates this version of Tia. It’s someone he met once, very briefly earlier in the year when the article first came out. He thought this version was gone, that whoever she was left, and wouldn’t be seen again. And maybe she did leave and has reappeared, or maybe Tia just became good at hiding this side of herself. Either way he feels responsible for the darkness that has reemerged, even if it isn’t his fault. And because of that he’d do anything to make it better.

“You just have to be there for her. If she wants to let you in, she will.”

His conversation with Heidi did absolutely nothing to quell his nerves, in fact she did the opposite. The entire time he was in Newfoundland all he could think about was ‘if she wants to let you in.’ Tia always wanted to let him in, she would tell him everything, even if he didn’t want to hear it. Now it’s the opposite, as if talking to him is an obligation, and if there was a way for her to completely shut him out, she would.

The thing is if Auston wasn’t making her feel trapped in her own home she would talk to him. But every time he tells her ‘we’re doing this’ and doesn’t ask her opinion on a matter, she feels like she is back in Zurich with her dad – living with him trying to dictate her life as if he is the only person entitled to an opinion. She left that behind when she left Zurich, and never in a million years did she expect Auston to be the one to take her back there.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002@hockeypucksposttspost@ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann@dana-hqy@delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@localcalumhoe@partypoison00@princesscameston@puccbunni@queenmarvel21@sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@afuturemilf @eclecticfashionbookszipper@callsign-denmark @monnbc@simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221@idfan21@elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout

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artificialqueens · 1 year

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Looking At The Lights (JeLa) - Divine

A/N: I’m back again with another Christmas fic! This time inspired by Looking At The Lights. I’ve been hoping for them to release it since hearing it live, and after a year its finally out, anyways enjoy this lil JeLa hurt/comfort. :) CW: mention of death

***

As daylight savings came to an end the one hour difference felt like hundreds, typically it didn’t bother DeLa, she’d always been the type to enjoy the holidays. Hell she usually pulled out her Christmas tree November 1st, only for Jinkx, her best friend to get her to compromise with the night of Thanksgiving, though she always managed to convince Jinkx to help her put it up early. So when DeLa didn’t call her the night of Halloween expressing her excitement for the upcoming jolly season, she was alarmed, though knowing DeLa was a lightweight she thought she might’ve drank herself into a deep slumber, but she didn’t get a call the next morning either, just a normal good morning text. Jinkx brought it upon herself to FaceTime her best friend, while it was ringing she’d remembered that her nana had passed about three years ago now, from eating mistletoe of all things, but DeLa hadn’t been the same since, hadn’t been as jolly, though she attempted to put on a front, Jinkx could tell she hadn't enjoyed it the same since, only putting up tree, not traveling back home and forcing Jinkx along to spend the holidays with her family. Teena and Jinkx had been going to her home instead. DeLa answered the phone completely ready for the day as usual at the early hour only, she didn't seem as bubbly as usual.

“Hey Dink.” She smiled, sipping her coffee.

“No Christmas decor recruitments this morning?” Jinkx questions. DeLa’s smile fades the smallest bit as she shakes her head.

“No, I think I’ll wait until December this year.”

“Well that’s not like you at all, you don’t want to drag me out to the mall to all those pop up christmas shops to buy new ornaments? No new seasonal bath and body works hauls? I was actually looking forward to it this year.”

“No.. well, not no, just not right now. I’m sure it’ll be fun when the time gets here though! Sorry to disappoint ya Dink-a-doo…”

Jinkx frowns a little and hums, it was so strange to see the life of the party, the biggest smile in the room, be so sad, it hurt, she loved DeLa, she was probably her favorite person, despite their bickering. She wanted to see her smile, and make her laugh, which was surprisingly hard to do considering DeLa was always so busy making other people laugh she tended to always just wear a smile on her face as she tried to think of her next joke to make Jinkx cackle.

“Are you okay with me coming over? I wanna get this whole thing kickstarted for ya.”

“I mean, I’m not doing anything, but I’d need to clean first-“

“Oh don’t stress about it, I'll help you.” Jinkx assured her, DeLa sighs, finally giving in.

“Alright… I’ll put on some tea or something for when you get here.”

“Okay, I’ll head over right away.” Jinkx says before smooching the phone.

After finishing their goodbyes, they both hung up. DeLa was so stressed decorating was honestly the last thing she wanted to think about. She didn’t know if losing her grandmother was the only thing dragging her down so much, but more so how much the loss was affecting everyone in her family, and how everyone was expecting her to be the light at the end of some sort of depressive tunnel. While she was happy she could provide that happiness for her family, but at the same time it made her feel as if she had to hide and shelter her own feelings for their sake.

Teena wasn’t very fond of their Nana, being the only goth in the family, moving to Chicago, refusing to follow their traditions and religion really pushed her away from them, so when she passed she was bummed but not necessarily devastated, but didn’t want to be around her family more than she had to be, she paid her respects at the funeral, but didn’t stick around for the family reunion afterwards, rather walked the neighborhood with her little sister, who was much more hurt than she was, to comfort her. Even then she expressed her fears of having to be the one to keep everyone in good spirits for the next few months or years.

Over time it had really started to work her down more through the holidays, the first year was awful, everyone was in tears, nothing felt the same, everything felt so out of order, it was so bad that DeLa announced she wouldn’t be coming home for next Christmas, that she’d rather spend it at her own home, her family didn’t appreciate her choice and called her selfish for not wanted to spend this special time of year with her family and loved ones, it hurt her to hear them all blow up on her like that, she’d never really been a negative center of attention before. She remembered having to gather her things and walk through the snow out to her car in tears with her sister and Jinkx on the phone, weeping about how she’d basically been fully isolated because of a single decision. The next two years she’d spent them at home, and didn’t feel up to it this year.

Jinkx arrived at DeLa’s cozy vintage house, and knocked on the door, after only a short moment the door opened and DeLa smiled up at her long time friend before pulling her into a tight hug. Jinkx smiles while hugging DeLa.

“Alright honey, let’s get you in the holiday spirit, but first I’ll help you clean up.” She says walking in with her arm wrapped around her shoulder.

DeLa’s messy was never actually messy, usually consisted of just putting things back in their place, not real mess, but she was a little surprised to see their was dishes that needed to be cleaned, shoes scattered across the living room and a few unpacked burlesque bags from shows, nothing terrible, just out of character. Jinkx plopped DeLa down on the couch before pushing the curtains open and began cleaning up, DeLa was embarrassed and felt bad, telling Jinkx she could do the cleaning and that it wasn’t the gingers responsibility, but Jinkx insisted, hair pulled up into a messy bun as she strolled around the house as if it were her own, she’d been there enough times that she knew it as well as her own home, she knew where everything went, where to find cleaning supplies. After loading up and starting the dishwasher she went over to DeLa who was curled up on the couch and was watching Jinkx’s every move.

“I'm gonna go put up these costumes and props, you go ahead and go get your Christmas stuff out of the basement okay? And we can decorate together.” Jinkx smiles.

DeLa nod before standing up, Jinkx’s smile fades a little, maybe her frowning a bit worried was dramatic, but she just wanted her best friend to be okay. She took the bags into the packed burlesque room and began sorting through them and placing them where they belonged, it took just as long as it took DeLa to haul up her large totes full of Christmas decorations. When she stepped out to the living room she saw DeLa now kneeling on the floor, looking through the totes slowly, perhaps looking too sad as she was sulking in the glitter so much that when Jinkx turned Christmas music on using Alexa she’d jumped.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Now let's see what we’ve got here. Shall we start with the tree or.. err everything else? You’ve got a process don’t you?” Jinkx questions.

DeLa thought for a moment before digging through a tote, mostly stockings, the tree skirt, other soft things, she pulled out a binder from the bottom, flipping it open revealing a list, trimmed in festive doodles, glued onto a piece of red construction paper, and laminated, Jinkx looked over her shoulder scanning the list..

SWITCH

-wall decor (replace fall decor for winter, hang stockings)

-rugs, pillows, blankets, etc

-figurines

-candles

-wallflowers

CHRISTMAS TREE TIME!!!!

-lights

-garland

-ornaments

-star

-tree skirt

OUTSIDE:

-“hang lights” (just plug them realistically those things never get taken down)

-put our lawn reindeer lights

-switch wreaths

-wrap stair banisters and rails with garland

“Hmm.. detailed list.” Jinkx says, honestly impressed.

“Thank you, I laminated it so I can just use a dry erase marker and reuse it every year.” She smiles, a genuine smile, warm and bright, making Jinkx smile in return.

“You’ve always been one smart cookie Dooley.” Jinkx wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders. DeLa’s face twisted in displeasure to the nickname, but it was lighthearted.

“Thank you Dink.” She smiles resting her head against the ginger for a moment before looking back at the list. “I guess we should get started with the walls, hm? Gotta switch out the little pumpkins for little Christmas doohickeys and stockings.”

“Let’s get started then.”

—

It was an all day job, but alas, the house was decorated, the woodsy autumn smell had shifted to the smell of sweet sugar cookies and hits of pine. The two of them were exhausted and collapsed on the couch on top of each other, cuddling while looking at the work they’d done. It warmed DeLa’s heart to see her home festive again, but that song of sadness could still be felt deep in her chest as she thought about how happy she had been in past while setting all of this up, it felt like a chore half way through and the only reason she hadn’t given up was because Jinkx was by her side helping her through it.

Feeling like this honestly scared DeLa. She’d never been this sad before, she hated it, she just wanted to be happy again. She felt her eyes getting heavier as she was comforted by Jinkx’s sweet honeysuckle scent, wrapped up in blankets now, her thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, but Jinkx being here somehow muffled all the mean and scary voices, soothing her with her presence.

Jinkx noticed DeLa falling asleep, though she was fighting it. Jinkx kisses her head, pulling her a bit closer, if it were possible. Letting the woman know she was there and it was okay if she wanted to sleep, she could tell that even through her drowsiness, she was still thinking about the entire world. She just wished she could switch them off for a day, let DeLa be DeLa. Once DeLa closed her eyes, Jinkx knew she’d be trapped for at least 30 minutes as DeLa was resting on top of her, she could deal with it though.

The remote being within arm’s reach helped, she reached over and flipped through a few options on Hulu, eventually settling on family guy, again, she always found herself coming back to the raunchy cartoon. She lost interest half way through an episode at some point and started scrolling through her phone, seeing a memory from this time a few years back. The two of them, in the same house, DeLa wearing a cute Christmas pinup dress matched with red stockings, on her tiptoes, not wearing heels to help her match the gingers height, holding mistletoe over their heads as she kissed Jinkx’s cheek who was smiling warmly with her arms around her friends waist. She remembered that day, it was more fun than she’d admit at the time but she remembered Ruby and Randy had both come over to help as well, the photo was Randy’s idea. She smiles down at the screen, she knew how much she adored DeLa, she wanted her heart. Brought her so much joy, she just hoped that she was able to start getting back into those happy spirits.

DeLa stirred a little, startling Jinkx, who looked down at her, DeLa stretched making a squeaking sound before opening her eyes looking at Jinkx confused. Jinkx giggles a little.

“You alright there?” She questions, booping her nose.

“Yeah.. when is it?” She questioned groggily, eyes closing again, before cracking into a smile when she heard Jinkx’s cackle.

“Same day, just a little later, you decorated your way into a small coma.” DeLa yawns as she attempts to say “oops.” and rests her head back where it previously was.

—

As the season continued, Jinkx was making sure to keep an extra close eye on DeLa as the season continued, making sure that if she wasn’t getting better, that she at least wasn’t getting worse. Taking her out for coffee, to look at Christmas lights, all of DeLa’s favorite things to do this time of year… it seemed to be working, but Jinkx knew DeLa was particularly good at hiding how she actually felt until she burst.

Most of the holiday season was over, yet DeLa hadn’t forced Jinkx into listening to any terrible Christmas covers of dogs or cats meowing and barking christmas songs. Jinkx knew it was time to actually sit down and talk to DeLa about the matter, regardless of what she tried to get DeLa to have some fun, it didn’t work. She’d invited her over for some coffee and festive movies since it was snowing outside at a violent speed, she expected for DeLa to get trapped here over the night, or would at least suggest she’d stay, for her own safety and comfort; they were cuddled up on the couch when she decided it was time to bring it up.

“DeLa..” Jinkx says softly, after placing her mug down. DeLa turns her head and hums in confusion. Seeing Jinkx’s expression she knew it was a serious matter.

“You’re so sad, I want to fix it, but I don’t know how. I need you to stop acting like you're okay and actually tell me what’s wrong. I don’t like when you’re like this.. I miss my happy ray of light.” Jinkx frowns, turning to face her friend.

“I-i..” DeLa pauses, seeing the concern in Jinkx’s eyes. Her lip quivered as she started sniffling, tears following shortly after. I wanna be happy… I really do, but I just can’t get past this feeling of dread, I miss when I was happy this time of year, waiting month after month to cover my house in lights and glitter, and to force you out into the snow to play around.. I really do, but I can’t bring myself to let go of this awful feeling that I don’t even really know what is! I’m so sad, and hurt and I can’t even place it, I’ve grieved my Nana enough to realize her wrongs while she was alive, my family is bitter but over it for the most part, it’s just ever since all that happened I feel like nothing but darkness comes with this time of year!” She spewed, Jinkx pulled her sobbing friend into her arms and squeezed her tight, but as if a poor situation couldn’t get worse the harsh winds of Portland stole any and all the physical light they had, this for some reason only made DeLa cry harder. “Even the universe is out to get me!” She weeped.

“Shh, baby it’s okay, hang on.” Jinkx says calmly, trying to sooth DeLa before getting up and going over to the fireplace full of candles and lighting them all before going around lights the loads of candles she has throughout her home. She then grabbed a few pillows and blankets, setting them up in front of the fireplace before dragging DeLa with her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders before sitting next to her.

“DeLa. You mean the world to me, and I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry you don’t feel like yourself. I’m sorry I can’t take your sadness away, but denying it and pushing it down deeper isn’t going to make it go away, which I know how scary it can be. I’ve experienced this before, I wish you would’ve come to me about this sooner. I love you baby, I’ll always be here for you. There’s nothing you can do that will stop me from loving and supporting you, remember that okay? Now come here.” Jinkx opens her arms as DeLa scooted over, basically into her lap as she held her close.

“That really means a lot to me Dink, and makes me feel better about all of this.. not completely, but knowing you’re here beside me really helps..” She starts tearing up again and sniffles.

Jinkx smiles sympathetically before gently grabbing her face and kissing DeLa sweetly, not something they did often, this one felt different from others they’d had, but Jinkx liked the feeling, it was warmer, filled with love. Jinkx pulled away to rest her head against DeLa, surrounded by the darkness, looking at the lights.

#rpdr fanfiction #jela #bendelacreme #jinkx monsoon #hurt/comfort #fluff #holiday fic #lesbian au #divine #tw mentions of death #(please tell me if I've mis-tagged anything! -v)

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survey--s · 8 months

Text

609.

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Iced coffee.

Do you like clowns? Nope. I'm not terrified of them or anything but they really do freak me out.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? I mean, there have been two questions lol.

What’s the third text in your inbox? It's from Mike saying he needs new tyres on his car.

Are you listening to anything at the moment? I have Two and a Half Men on in the background and I can hear my own typing, the dryer and the dog snoring.

Do you twitch when you’re falling asleep? Yeah, all the time.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? We don't own a dishwasher.

Are you at home or with friends more often? Home.

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? About six years ago.

What have you eaten today? Two slices of toast and a donut.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? No, probably not.

Do you own a strapless bra? I'm sure I have one somewhere, yeah.

Does the person you like know it? Yes.

Did anything brighten up your day today? It was nice to have a lie in, but otherwise it's just been a pretty normal day so far. I slept in, had breakfast, walked the dog, bumped into Suzanne and Charlie, showered, did two loads of laundry, went to the shops, fed the animals and now I'm doing this.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? Kinda hungry, but otherwise I'm absolutely fine.

Are you someone who worries too often? Not so much anymore.

If you could date somebody who would it be? My husband, lol.

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? Sure, I know people judge me when I'm walking Archie and he's stressing out about other dogs.

What is one good thing you’re known for? Ironically, how good I am with other dogs haha.

How about one bad thing? I have no idea.

Are you taller than most? Most what? Most women, yes. Most people in general? No, I don't think so.

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? Today in the shower.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? I like both. I find being at home really relaxing and I recharge the best that way, but I can't spend too long indoors without getting out - otherwise I get cabin fever.

What time do you normally go to bed? 11 pm - 1 am.

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? Nothing in particular, to be honest.

What did you do today? Oh, I kind of answered this already lol. I slept in until about 8.30am, did a load of laundry, vacuumed, had breakfast, walked the dog, came home, showered, did another load of laundry, went grocery shopping and fed the animals - now I'm doing this and watching TV.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? I think I'm pretty average looking.

What was the last thing that you drank? Pepsi Max.

Is anything annoying you now? Not right this second, no.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? Yeah.

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? No.

Do you realise it when you curse? No, not always.

When was the last time you showered? About three hours ago when I got back from walking the dog.

Who did you last talk to in person? Suzanne.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I always do SOMETHING, but yeah, I do have some properly lazy days at times, lol.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yes.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I've never seen it.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? Nope, I don't really believe in that stuff.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? About 3-4 hours.

Best field trip experience? When we went to Paris for a week.

Have you ever been to New York City? Nope.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be? ...

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? Personally, about £30 per head but my dad once took Mike and I to a restaurant that was about £300 per person, not including alcohol.

What museums have you visited, if any? Too many to name. I was always dragged around museums as a kid.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Sure, all the time. It's why I've always hated stuff like that.

What’s your worst travelling experience? Getting scammed in France I guess, but it was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? The first one, I guess because it's what I grew up with along with all the expansion packs.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Sure, but that's what happens when you live in terraced housing or apartments. You just deal with it.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? Probably my senior school tutor.

Best muffin you’ve ever had? I love a freshly baked blueberry muffin.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? Yeah, we had to for a while in school.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I'm logged into it all the time but I only really check it when I have a notification or want to upload something.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I'm not good at any kind of maths, lol.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I love it - most people I meet haven't heard of the stuff I like, ha.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? I honestly have no idea. The girl over the road from us walks her ferret sometimes, that's pretty weird.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? I mean, I think sometimes people get lucky, sure, but I don't think it happens for any particular reason.

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? God, all the time hahah.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Sometimes, yeah. I don't pick messy foods if I'm out in public as I'm pretty much guaranteed to spill it down my front LOL.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Ohh yes.

How reliable is your internet connection? Generally it's fine but it has been going on/off a bit lately for some reason.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? Yeah, sure.

What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Phone calls with people I don't know.

What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? I pulled multiple all-nighters at university.

If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? I've been wearing glasses since I was seven years old.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? That would be AMAZING. Unfortunately, my prescription is too complicated for laser eye surgery so I'm just gonna have to live with them for now.

How many vegetarians do you know? Probably quite a few, but I don't really go around asking people things like that.

Have you ever considered going to art school? Nope.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? No. I don't really spend time with anyone like that.

How quickly can you write an essay? Depends on the subject and how long the essay has to be.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? Nope. I've never understood how people can do that.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? Yeah, a few times.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? I'm self-employed.

Favorite episode of Spongebob? I couldn't pick a particular favourite. I like the ones with Squidward as the main focus.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? Sure, don't most people?

Are your parents supportive of you? They most certainly are.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never. Around here, it's MUCH quicker and cheaper to drive.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? I do when I'm like, waiting for an appointment or for a friend to come back from the toilet or something, but I try not to do it in company as it's pretty rude.

#survey #surveys

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thebisexualdogdad · 2 years

Text

A werewolf in Roswell (Liz Ortecho x male reader)

Living in Roswell came with its perks, the main one being the abundance of desert land you had to run around in when you shifted.

You had been born a werewolf, where the gene came from in your family bloodline was a mystery but unlike those silly stories mundanes had been telling each other for centuries you were in fact not confined to the glow of the full moon however it was much easier to conceal yourself at night where in the darkness you would appear to be like any other wild animal that called the desert its home.

To the world you were just a normal guy, keeping out of trouble and your head down low, despite your lifelong secrets.

Arturo Ortecho was happy to give you a job as a busboy after high school, you and Liz had been friends since childhood so he already knew you would be a dependable worker and a decade later you were still cleaning off tables at the crashdown Cafe.

You kept in touch with Liz while she was away at college but drifted apart as sometimes friends do though when she returned to Roswell your friendship started to rebuild.

A lot of weird things had been going on in Roswell lately, the deaths of Noah Braken and Jesse Manes, the white supremists running around with guns and alien masks supposedly protecting their land, Maria DeLuca going into a mysterious coma and Arturo's niece Rosalinda who looked an awful lot like his daughter Rosa who had died shortly after high school coming to town just to name a few.

You needed to clear your head so you went outside the city limits and with no one around you shifted into your werewolf form.

Running around the desert always gave you a certain kind of clarity but tonight was different.

You accidently stumbled across a couples campsite, the woman screaming in terror and the next thing you hear is a gunshot accompanied by an immense searing pain coursing through your shoulder.

—

*morning*

Liz walks into the cafe, taking a seat at the counter and Rosalinda pouring her a cup of coffee.

She notices how a lot of the booths are covered with empty plates and coffee mugs from the morning crowd with you nowhere to be seen.

"Hey where's Y/N?" She asks.

"I don't know he was supposed to be in three hours ago," Rosalinda replies.

There's two guys sitting a couple seats down from her at the counter talking very loudly so of course Liz and Rosalinda overhear their conversation.

"Man did you hear what happened to Billy last night?" One man says.

"Didn't he and his girl go camping last night? What did the drunk bastard do, fall into the fire pit again?" The other laughs.

"Nah they got attacked by some crazy animal! Billy says it looked like a wolf but was the size of a bear! Says it might have been even wearing pants."

"Don't be ridiculous, they probably just drank an entire bottle of whisky and were seeing things."

"Either way Billy said he shot the thing in the shoulder and it ran off, they packed their shit up and got the hell out of there," the first guy says stuffing his face with his pancakes.

Arturo comes out from the kitchen, tub in hand to collect the dirty dishes himself.

"I'm worried about Y/N," Arturo states, "it's not like him to not show up to work, in ten years he hasn't so much as even been late for a shift."

"Let me call him," Liz suggests, taking out her phone and attempting to reach you multiple times with no response, "maybe he just decided to have a little too much to drink at the pony last night and overslept."

"Can you go check on him Elizabeth, something just feels off," Arturo asks.

"Of course Papi," Liz says, kissing her father on the cheek before she takes one last drink of her coffee and heads to your place.

Arturo was right, something was off, Liz spots a trail of blood going to your front door which wasn't even closed all the way.

"Y/N?" She calls out, cautiously stepping inside.

There's no response so she calls your name out again and this time is met with the sound of a struggled groan coming from your bedroom.

She finds you on the floor, shirt gone and pants ripped to shreds with blood pooled around you who's barely conscious and what appears to be a gunshot in your shoulder.

"Oh my god Y/N," she says rushing to your side, "you're going to be okay I'm gonna call 911."

With the little strength you have you grab her arm, "no don't."

"You've lost a lot of blood, we have to get you to the hospital," Liz replies.

"No hospital, just need to get the bullet out and I'll be fine," you explain.

"That's not how that works Y/N," she says, spotting a pair of pliers covered in blood that you had clearly been using to try to pull the bullet out of yourself with.

"Liz, please just trust me," you beg.

Against her better judgment Liz grabs the pliers and huffs, "this is really going to hurt."

"I know, do it, please," you struggle to get out.

Liz gulps, and sticks the pliers inside your wound, digging around for the bullet.

You howl in pain but Liz continues until she feels a tap of hard metal.

"I think I got it," she says using her free hand to hold you still as she pulls the bloody bullet from your skin.

The pain immediately starts to soothe and Liz sees your wound healing itself.

"What the hell was that," Liz says in shock, "your shoulder, it's like you weren't even shot. Wait, two guys at the crashdown were talking about their friend shooting some wolf bear thing in the shoulder last night."

"I'm not even going to try to lie to you Liz, I'm a werewolf."

"Oh… okay… that makes sense," she says oddly calm.

"You're not freaked out by this? I just said I'm a werewolf," you say confused, your strength starting to return to your body.

"You being a werewolf is one of the least weirdest thing that has happened to me in the last few years," she tells you.

"What does that mean?"

"Y/N… do you believe in aliens?"

#roswell new mexico imagine #liz ortecho imagine #liz ortecho x reader #x male reader #fic

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fictionalfics · 3 years

Note

I had an idea. Could you do a crossover thingy where Aizawa has a daughter and she goes missing and he comes in the next day looking worse than normal and then the broadcast gets sent out and Aizawa sees his daughter in it and he gets either happy she’s alive or sad because she’s in a war?

This is s great idea! I’ve never written a parent fic before, so this is quite a challenge. Hope it came out okay!

Title: Not This Time

Pairing: Dad!Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

!TW: VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF K*LLING, LIGHT ALCOHOL USE!

(Gifs not mine)

“Aizawa-sensei’s been sleeping a lot more than usual, have you noticed Iida-kun?” Midoriya looks at his classmate expectantly as they make their way to the dining hall.

It was true, their rugged teacher had been sleeping in class a lot more lately. He had barely greeted his class before the yellow sleeping bag made its appearance.

“I’m sure its nothing, Deku,” Ochako chimes in, “This is the first time in a while he’s taught a full class. Besides, you know who he has to deal with.“

Midoriya chuckles as his friend gestures to Kaminari, Bakugo and Kirishima - they didn’t mean to be, but they were one of the main sources of trouble in class 1-A.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

--------

Back kick. Block. Jump, kick, dodge. Bend the knees, feet to the floor. Breathe, start again.

The thick material of your scarf is tight around your palms as you dodge attack after attack. You hold your hand out and erase the enemy’s quirk, before landing a swift chop to the neck. Another one down. You handcuff them as fast as you can before dodging a beam of light. It just catches you ear, the scent of burnt hair becoming more intense as you roll to the side.

A stakeout operation gone wrong. A local gang that turned out to be something much bigger. You were fighting a war that had nearly run its course, and this mission was meant to be one of the last. That was, until your stakeout partner revealed she was working for the other team, a double agent.

That left you in this mess. You wished your dad was there with you right now, but he wasn’t. He’d taught you to cope on your own, you told yourself. You’d manage.

Smack!

-------

Three days. No text, no call, no you. Shouta had waited in the living room all night, sipping coffee to stay awake. It had been three days since you walked out the door with a great big smile on your face, saying goodbye as you left for work.

Ten years ago, the seemingly heartless man had taken you into his care after saving you from your burning orphanage. The hero saw himself in you, especially since your quirks were so similar. He trained you himself, teaching how to use the capture rope alongside your fists.

You had enrolled in Shiketsu High, in order to separate yourself from your dad, and started your work studies with a mid-ranked but successful pro in your second year.

Shouta was extremely proud of you, and made sure you knew it every single day.

But it was unlike you to stay out for days at a time without contact. The first night wasn’t so bad - maybe she’s at the bar with friends, I’ll see her in the morning, he thought to himself.

You weren’t there in the morning. He put it down to you staying over a friend’s house - he was up pretty early after all, so you’d be home later.

Nope. Nothing. He continued to make excuses up for you all night, and all the way into the morning too, only grabbing an hour’s sleep before leaving for work.

When he came home to an empty house for the third day in a row, he started to panic for real. Texted you every hour, on the hour. Called a couple of times. Called your workplace, to no avail.

6:30 on the clock. Shouta chugged the rest of his coffee and slung his work bag over his shoulder as he noted it was day four now. Work was going to be a long one.

------

Your ears rang as your former partner delivered another slap to your face.

“This would be over so much quicker if you told me where the boss is being held hostage, Y/N. You’re making this so hard for yourself!”

“Go to hell.”

Wack!

A scream held back in your throat, your teeth grind together as you fight through the pain. The edges of your vision began to go black, and you almost considered telling the gang everything.

------

Shouta’s thumb was over the send button when he heard your name on the local news.

Y/N Aizawa missing in action. Something about a fight against a gang, an ambush they said. No other details could be released for citizen safety.

The hero didn’t even realise he’d slid off the couch to kneel in front of the TV. Missing in action. He rested his forehead on the box, his hair sticking to the screen due to static.

Missing. You were missing.

His legs carried him to the agency you worked with. His voice demanded to see your boss, begged for the details of your whereabouts.

They wouldn’t tell him. “We cannot release details to the public, its for her safety as well as theirs,” your boss told him.

Shouta argued that he wasn’t the public, that he was a hero like you.

“There’s nothing more we can do, I’m afraid.”

-------

The ropes had begun to bite into your wrists as you hung from the ceiling. After deciding the initial interrogation was obsolete, the gang had taken you to a new building and strung you up. Your feet could almost touch the floor, but had given up trying to get free an hour ago. Possibly. You didn’t know how long you’d been there. You were sure you’d stayed awake, but even blinking felt like it took days in that dark room.

You strained your ears from information.

Move........found.....kill her.......risk? No......stupid.....

There wasn’t enough for you to piece together the crumbs of information. You were sure you were going to die at this point. So much potential, a great future ahead of you.

No, you can’t think like that! What would Dad do in this situation?

You couldn’t answer that one. Instead, you hummed a lullaby to yourself - your favourite that he used to sing to you if you’d had a nightmare. This entire situation was a bit of a nightmare, so you thought it was appropriate.

The door opened before you, the bright light bringing tears to your eyes.

-----

“She’s gotta be alright Shou, she’s tough! Besides, didn’t you go MIA all the time?”

Hizashi did his best to comfort his friend, handing him a small glass of whiskey, which Shouta drank in one. He slammed the glass to the table with a dull thud.

“That’s different Yamada. I knew where I was, and I was never gone for long. I don’t know where she is, and it’s been nearly a week.”

The blond runs his palm down his face, not wanting to admit the he feared the worst too.

“She’s a hero Shou, bad things happen. You know the dangers and she does too, she’s not dumb.”

“Another whiskey please.”

Hizashi refilled Shouta’s glass, and the liquid disappeared as quickly as he’d poured it.

“She’ll be okay Shou.”

------

Your arms were freed of their painful restraints as your friends occupied the gang and, summoning as much strength as you could, dragged yourself to your feet, using your peer as a crutch. Your head turned to watch your team take on the four or five people that had taken you hostage, silently celebrating as you limped to the exit.

“Sorry we took so long Y/N, it took us a while to figure out where they’d taken ya!”

A tired chuckle escaped you as your co-worker apologised. “At least you’re here now.” Your response wasn’t completely a joke, but you couldn’t blame them. This gang was good at hiding.

“The whole operation is gonna be extended, thanks to the newbie. We had no idea she was a double agent- it’s gonna set us back to square one!”

Double agent. You scolded yourself for not catching on in time. “I’m sorry, I should have figured out sooner. Now the entire mission’s been compromised.”

Your peer sat you in the back of an ambulance that had come along with the police.

“Don’t beat yourself up silly! Even us pros didn’t know, there was no way a student could have guessed!”

The fight was over relatively quickly, thankfully. After the criminals were handed over to the police for interrogation, you were escorted back to the agency to be patched up, and report to the higher-ups.

------

Eraser didn’t immediately jump up when the front door creaked open. He was a hundred miles away, trying to convince you to take a day off instead of going to work. You’d be home with him that way, smiling as you cooked your favourite meal in the kitchen. That smile... How badly he missed it.

He felt the couch sink next to him.

“Sorry I’m late Dad, I had one hell of a day at work!”

Dad? He snapped back to reality as the words sunk in. He looked to where the voice came from - his eyes traced it back to you. Covered in cuts and bruises, dark circles adorning your eyes, but you all the same.

“Y/N!” The dark haired man jumped up and lifted you into his arms. You giggled and squeezed him back, giddy with relief.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are grounded forever! What the hell happened to you?”

He set you down on the couch as you began to explain as much as you could, without giving away classified information.

“But I’m here now! I’ve got about a week to recover, because I wasn’t injured too badly, plus they did hold me in the recovery room for a day.”

“A week?” His shoulders slumped at the thought of you fighting. “They’re sending you back out there?”

“Yeah. The mission isn’t over yet, we have to dismantle them completely.”

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Promise me you won’t go missing again.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know that.”

“Humour me.”

Breaking eye contact, you sighed, before looking back at your father and smiling as wide as you could. “I won’t go missing this time Dad. I promise.”

“Good.” Shouta patted your head before standing up and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You’re still grounded forever.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts!”

“Even if I make you some coffee? Maybe cook some yakitori?”

“I may reconsider,” he chuckled. You always knew your way to his heart.

He loved his daughter so damn much.

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oneshotnewbie · 3 years

Note

Like what if Kara came home and found B!D sick on the couch?

combined with: can you do some more stuff with Kara looking after b!d?

---

The sun was already about to set behind the hills of National City and you were still on the couch; you hadn't moved from it since this morning. Your head was pounding and you felt like your skull would break, your whole body felt heavy and destroyed, almost like you had been run over by a truck.

You weren't often sick, but when you were, you were immediately violated with the pleasure that no pain pills would help, no blanket could calm the cold inside you and a warm bath didn't automatically move your tense muscles and quivering bones to hurt less.

The only thing you could do was endure it all, at least for the first 24 hours.

The darkened living room, the pillow that you had pressed over your eyes to banish the rest of the daylight and the fresh air that made it's way into the apartment through the open balcony door let the headache subside, at least a little. The hot water bottle on your back also helped you to relax a little and made everything a little more comfortable.

At least before you felt a huge impact in front of you that chased shock waves through your body and made you whine in pain. "Y/N, I am home!" shouted the blonde in her luscious bright and high voice. "Oh Rao, I am so hungry!"

You winced at the volume of her voice and clung to the pillow with both hands before throwing it to the side in annoyance. "You are always hungry and now don't be angry with me but shut up."

She walked back the last few meters she had already started to the kitchen and looked down over the back of the couch to your lying figure. "I am sorry, I didn't know... Did I wake you?"

"No but thanks to my Kryptonian sister which flew through the window like dumbo instead of taking the door like a normal human being I am in more pain than I was thirty seconds ago." you tried to roll your eyes but let it be when a spasm ran through your head and you paused for a moment. You hated headaches more than anything.

"It's way easier and faster for me and you know that!" she laughed confused. The blonde didn't know exactly what was wrong with you and why you reacted this way, she didn't saw you since yesterday evening and you were perfectly fine then.

With one quick movement of her hand she switched on the small standing lamp on the table next to the couch and you immediately flinched while crossing your arms in front of your face.

She raised her eyebrows and frowned her nose before dropping the bags of food on the coffee table and kneeling in front of you while one hand of hers found its way to your knee. "Hey, sweetheart. What's going on?"

"Nothing Kara and I am really sorry but my head hurts as if there are stones inside and I am in so much pain that I can't even breathe properly." you mumbled in the pillow and she let out a heavy breath before she switched off the light next to you and gently pulled the pillow out of your hands.

She knew how bad your headaches could hit you.

"I am so sorry, baby girl. If I had known, I would have been quieter." you waved with one hand as to say her that it was fine as you tried to sit up. The imagine before your eyes trembled and your head felt like a jackhammer. You pressed on the sides of your skull to ease the pain. "Have you already took pills for the pain?"

"Three times the normal dosage and nothing helped. I think I nodded off briefly or several times, but I am not sure." you admitted and looked at her sadly. "Why didn't you call Alex or me so we could come and take care of you?"

"My phone is in the kitchen and I didn't have the strength to move my body, risking I could faint or else."

She nodded in understanding and gently stroked her thighs before she fished a stranded hair piece out of your face and placing her hand on your forehead. You leaned into her cool hand and stayed like that for some time before she took it away and looked at you worriedly. "You have a high fever, kid."

There was a short pause before she got up and sat down next to you on the couch. Only now did she notice the hot water bottle and felt it to see if it was still warm enough. When she realized it wasn't anymore, she pulled it out from behind you and placed it on her thighs. "Have you already eaten something today? Drank?"

You shook your head slowly, careful not to aggravate the pain. "Didn't ate, drank only this little bottle of water." Kara rubbed her forehead a few times and sighed before getting up, taking the food and the bottle with her while going into the kitchen. "You should have called, Y/N."

You ignored your older sister's answer; you just didn't want to bother her and take her away from work if nothing bad had happened. With this thought, you lay back again and closed your eyes. Inside, you were glad that she was finally home and you were no longer alone as you had someone who was with you and took care of you.

---

After she made you some tea and managed to get some food down your throat, she lay down with you and watched your favorite movie while holding you firmly and protective, giving you more warmth than the precious hot water bottle. At least she was watching the film, the second she lay down on the couch, you turned away from the television and were now facing her; your leg on her thigh while both arms wrapped around her body and your head resting on her chest. "Try to sleep a little, you need to rest."

"You gonna stay?" you whispered.

"Don't worry, I will stay right were I am. I will be here." she paused and gave you a kiss on your hair. "Now close your eyes, baby girl."

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

comfortable silence is so overrated || h. styles

warnings: drunk harry, alcohol, swearing

word count: 2k

summary: in his drunken state, your friend, harry, makes a confession he would never make when sober...

You couldn’t help but smile at the video of Gemma’s cat, cooing at the purring feline. When the video ended, Gemma pulled her phone away. “She’s so adorable,” you hummed, smiling at Gemma.

“She’s a devil,” she mumbled.

You chuckled, “Excuse me, I will not tolerate any Olivia slander. She is an angel.”

“You’re an angel.”

It was Harry.

Your mum looked over, snorting quietly at Harry’s confession. Gemma laughed, “Harry, you’re so drunk.”

“I’m not,” he replied, his words slurred slightly.

Anne sighed, “Your sister’s right. I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Harry sighed, laying his head back against his chair. Your mum and Anne exchanged an amused glance at the sight of an exasperated Harry trying to convince everyone he was completely sober. “I’m fine. I didn’t even drink that much, did I? Y/N. Y/N. Did I? I didn’t even drink that much,” he said, frowning.

He was like a child. Especially when he was drunk, he was one of the neediest people you’d ever met. You’d been on your fair share of nights out with Harry having known him for so long. You’d known him before it was even legal for the two of you to drink. You smiled softly, hoping to entertain his beliefs somewhat, “No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly. Y/N says I didn’t drink and if I didn’t drink then I can’t be drunk,” Harry said, turning to Anne.

“No, darling, she said you didn’t drink a lot. You still drank some. And you know how you are with alcohol,” Anne sighed before turning to your mother. “Come on, we’ll go and pay and then we’ll head off.”

Sat at a bar in central London with the Styles siblings, your mother and Anne wasn’t exactly how you expected to finish your evening. You were initially planning to spend your birthday at home alone, maybe call your mum. However, when Gemma called, asking if you wanted to go out for drinks, you agreed. And, upon arrival, you were pleasantly surprised to find your grinning mother with the Styles family.

Gemma slipped her phone into her pocket, pushing her chair away from the table the five of you had been sat at. She mumbled something about going to the toilet. This left you alone, opposite Harry. He stared at you, “I’m not drunk.”

You shook your head slightly, smiling, “I believe you.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he said.

Not entirely sure what he expected you to say to that, the two of you fell into a lull in the conversation. You finished your drink, your eyes flickering up to meet Harry’s. He sent you another smile. You returned it. Harry and yourself had known each other long enough to grow past the awkward silence. Silence between the two of you was never awkward anymore. It was comfortable.

Whenever Harry was drunk, as he was now, you’d learnt to just keep him happy. If you didn’t, he became pouty and needy. And when he was pouty and needy, he became particularly annoying. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Harry asked, his eyes seeming to struggle on one thing.

You almost wanted to laugh, “You know I don’t.”

“Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “How come?”

Harry never usually dug into things like this. But, then again, he was never usually this drunk. You shrugged, slipping your arms into your jacket upon seeing Anne and your mother returning, “I’m not sure. Just haven’t met anyone yet.”

Harry stumbled into your house, nearly falling as he slipped his shoes off. Happily, you’d agreed to drive him home (being the only one who hadn’t consumed any alcohol over the evening). While the other three women were sober enough to get themselves home, whether that be via the underground or uber, Anne felt safer if you drove Harry home. You agreed, mainly due to the fact that Harry’s home was on the way to your house anyway. However, in a turn of events, Harry was now staying at yours for the night.

To put it simply, Harry had accidentally left his keys with Gemma. The two of you agreed that it would probably be better if he went to collect them in the morning, as it was nearing midnight by the time you reached Harry’s house and he realised he had no means of actually getting in. Besides, it wasn’t like you and Harry had never slept at one another’s houses anyway. Albeit the occasion being more rare now than it was when the two of you were younger.

Harry fell onto the couch, pulling one of the throws over his cold body. He grinned up at you goofily as you removed your jacket. “What are you smiling at?” you asked, your cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You,” he said. “You’re cute.”

“Cute?” you chuckled. “Are we ten?”

He shrugged, “It’s true, though.”

You sighed, leaving him be on the couch. You walked through to the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water for the morning. Your head was full of all sorts of questions. Harry was being clingy, and more clingy than he normally was when intoxicated. You wanted desperately to shrug it off and think nothing of Harry’s odd behaviour.

Maybe it was down to how much Harry had drunk at the central London bar. Saying that though, you’d been with Harry on his first night out when he turned eighteen. And nobody is ever drunker than their first night out. People are excited to finally be able to legally drink and they’re not entirely sure where they stand on the scale of lightweights. Little Harry had been no exception to this. “Here,” you smiled, placing the glass down on the coffee table.

You noticed his trousers had been kicked off, lying in a puddle on the floor. He was still in his t-shirt - one of his graphic ones. The throw was pulled haphazardly over the majority of Harry’s body.

He stared up at you, “What would I do without you? Maybe die. I might. I know it’s hard to imagine that. But it could happen without you, Y/N. You’re like perfect, did you know that? You always take care of me. I want to take care of you. But you never need it. Let me look after you, Y/N. Please. Maybe I am drunk. Hey, Y/N… I think I might possibly be slightly drunk.”

He was rambling. You smiled sweetly at him as he continued on about how ‘there’s a chance he may be drunk’ and how ‘wonderful you were to him’.

You chuckled, “No shit.”

He placed his hand on his chest, “There is no need to be like that. Apologise for that right now.”

Stifling a laugh, you forced out, “Sorry, H.”

He grinned, “It’s okay. I still love you.”

You just smiled at him. As far as Harry was concerned, you hadn’t even picked up on his words. Inside, though, was a completely different story. You were having a complete meltdown at what your friend had just opted to tell you. You watched as he closed his eyes, the tension in his features draining away. You cleared your throat. His eyes snapped back open. “I’m gonna go to bed. If you wake up before me, there’s cereal in the cupboard.”

He nodded, “Goodnight. If your dreams get too scary, I’ll be down here to hold you if you so need it.”

You forced a tight-lipped smile, “Noted.”

Spinning on your heel, you left Harry alone to sleep on your couch. He looked content enough. Content. Why was he content after what he’d just told you? ‘I still love you’? As you brushed your teeth and got changed, finally crawling into bed after such a long evening. The cold sheets felt refreshing against your flushed body.

Maybe he only meant it in a platonic way? You and Harry had certainly told one another that you loved each other before. And that had always been purely platonic. But this felt different somehow. Almost like he meant to keep you up all night pondering his words.

When you were fifteen, you first noticed Harry in a romantic light. For the four years you’d known each other prior, you hadn’t felt anything other than mutually platonic admiration for one another. But then you developed somewhat of a crush on Harry. You never told him - God, you wouldn’t dream of confessing such a thing to him. Not while you were sober, anyway. And then feelings faded and you were relieved to be back to your platonic love.

It was only six months ago did those damned feelings return. You weren’t entirely sure what triggered it, but you’d been in such a predicament ever since. Harry telling you that he loved you only amplified them.

As you jogged downstairs the following morning, you’d almost forgotten Harry was staying at your house. So, when you walked into the kitchen to find him rummaging through your collection of cereal, you almost had a heart attack. “Morning,” he smiled as he turned around.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” he grinned. “Did you?”

God, this small talk was killing you. Of course Harry didn’t care how you slept. Nobody ever cares how somebody slept, they’re just trying to make conversation, hoping something they say sparks an interesting discussion topic. “Yeah,” you lied.

You hadn’t slept very well at all. You’d been thinking about Harry’s words up until about four hours ago. Thankfully, Harry didn’t see through your lie, “Good. I’m glad.”

He sat down at the table, spooning some Cornflakes into his mouth. You poured yourself a glass of orange juice, sitting down opposite him. The unusually bright London sun beamed in through your kitchen windows, casting the most glorious light over Harry’s tired eyes.

He pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing slightly. He had a headache. You weren’t exactly surprised after how much he drank last night. The way he was speaking, it felt like he was dodging something. It was awkward small talk. Like he was deliberately trying to leave something out of the conversation. And you had a bit of an inkling as to what that was.

You had hoped he wouldn’t remember his drunken confession. Then you wouldn’t have to talk about it and you could just go on, pretending it never happened. But no, his tone suggested he definitely remembered saying what he said.

The silence you fell into was ten times more comfortable than the desperate attempts at conversation the two of you had been sharing. You sipped your orange juice, staring out of the window at the cloudless sky. Harry ate his cereal quietly, not taking his eyes off the bowl. And, as you finished your drink, you realised you were exactly what you’d been mentally scolding Harry for the night prior.

You were content.

You were content sitting opposite Harry on a warm summer morning, the sun washed over the two of you as you both basked in the comfortable silence between you. It was a little moment of domesticated euphoria. But, to Hell with comfortable silence, “Harry.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking up at you, anxiety pooled in those green eyes of his.

“You know last night?”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, his gaze returning to the bowl and the spoon between his fingers.

“You know what you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” you repeated, though you weren’t entirely sure why you did.

“Yeah, I meant it. I mean it. I love you.”

He said it as if he’d had one of those ‘fuck it, you only live once’ moments in his head. His confidence seemed to pile up upon every syllable that he uttered. “Even though I swore at you?” you smirked, recounting the seconds of revelations last night.

He cracked a small smile, “Yeah. Even though you swore at me. Do you, you know, feel the same?”

You hesitated for a moment, revelling in the moment of sober confessions. You grinned across at the man sat opposite you.

“Yeah.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles imagines #harry imagines

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hintofelation99 · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your posts and want to ask your opinion on something. Who do you think in the batfam has the most and the least common sense of a normal person? If you can, can you also list how they are arranged? Thank you!

Ooohhh, this is a fun one! In my mind all bats lack common sense. Like obviously they're hella smart, after all they are a family of detectives, they just aren't very bright.

Here's a quick rundown (least to most): Tim and Dick tie for first place, both lack common sense in just in completely different ways. Then Damian (mostly cause of the whole 'being raised by league of assassins' thing), Bruce, Cass (controversial ik), Steph, Jason, Duke, Babs, and last on the list is obvs Alfred. (Kate is probs between Cass and Steph, but I've only really seen her in the DCAMU and need to get to know her better).

And Ima add a 'keep reading' cause this is gonna get long.

Tim:

Tim is one of the smartest in the family. He deduced Batman's identity as a child, majorly fucked up the League of Assassins, and has been honored (I say this v sarcastically just btw) with Ra's creepy obsession. He's smart, plain and simple. However, when it comes to just day to day survival and being loved, goddamn that boy is dumb.

He regularly mixes energy drinks and coffee. Sometimes he even mixes energy drinks, alcohol, and coffee.

In his mind warnings are optional. "Tim, did you just sniff that drano?" "Yeah, why?" "IT LITERALLY SAYS DO NOT SMELL" "Oops"

He regularly tests shit on himself. "Why is Tim on the floor?" "He mixed joker venom and fear gas to see what would happen" "HE WHAT"

Also if you try to compliment him or tell him you love him he will find a way to misunderstand. "Tim, I love you and you are an amazing son." "I don't know who this Tim is but he sounds great" "It- it's you, literally you. Timothy Jackson Drake." "I'm a bit confused, I didn't know you knew two Timothy Jackson Drakes. You should really introduce us."

Dick:

Dick in many ways is a total himbo. He's a complete sweetheart, super supportive, and very ditzy. His ditzy-ness directly correlates to how relaxed he is. Chilling in the manor? Peak himbo. A mission in space? Absolute genius and amazing leader. Just took down a bunch of thugs? Slowly reverting into dopey boi. He always has the ability to be super analytical, smart, and big brain, but he likes being whimsical and even airheaded. And that's not a bad thing, it's just him taking mental breaks, being lighthearted.

"YOU PUT DIESEL IN YOUR CAR?" "...Yeah, in my defense the nozzles look basically the same" "They're different colors?! Also the diesel nozzle doesn't even fit into your gas tank, how did you get it in?" "I'm a good pourer."

He always responds to the word dick and it always confuses him. "God Ra's is such a dick!" "What?" "Ra's is a dick" "I'm not Ra's!" "Wha- no! I mean penis dick!" "Ohhhh, yeah he is a penis dick"

Once Dick is safe he reverts into himbo pretty quickly, even after stressful situations. "Hey Wally?" "Yes babe?" "I forgot how to change my lock screen again" "Dick, you just hacked into an alien spaceship not even an hour ago??" "What's that have to do with anything?"

Damian:

Damian lacks common sense from growing up with the League of Assassins. He's an amazing warrior and super analytical but casual human interaction alludes him. He is getting better though, so eventually he'll be lower on the list than Steph. But for now he's a senseless bby.

The first time someone tried to give him high five he assumed it was an attack and flipped them. Same with a fist bump.

This is complete canon but his original treatment of Alfred, his brothers, and, well, everyone. Like bby boy please read the room.

His ego can easily override common sense. Like he wouldn't jump off a bridge if everyone else was doing it, but if someone said he couldn't he'd immediately swan dive off that bridge.

Bruce:

For the world's greatest detective he can be a major dumb bitch sometimes. Some of it's growing up rich and some is being so wrapped up in his 'crusade for justice' that he just misses basic shit.

One time he walked in on Roy and Jason making out, the next day he saw them cuddling, then they mentioned moving in together. It took him three months to realize that they're dating.

He doesn't understand coupons, like at all. Jason has tried to explain them but Bruce just gets even more confused.

Bruce tried to make coffee once. He literally just poured coffee beans in water and microwaved it. He was surprised when it didn't taste good.

Cass:

Cass is similar to Damian in she lacks common sense from an unconventional upbringing. However she's learning way faster than Damian and depending on where in the timeline you're looking she might have more common sense than Babs.

Basic things like lines, turn taking, and speaking when spoken to aren't innate to her. Like, she knows and understands them, but often forgets about them.

There are many times that she blurs the line between civilian and vigilante because she'll do something that looks v stupid and dangerous for a civilian. The thing is she never notices when she does this.

One time she was in a restaurant and there was a cockroach on the wall across the room (cause Gotham) and instead of getting up and killing it like a normal person she threw her steak knife and impaled it.

Steph:

Steph is probably lacks common sense the most conventional yet slightly concerning way. She lacks common sense in the same way a cartoon character or sitcom character would. Like it's sorta realistic but at the same time damn bby girl why are you such a disaster??

She will do anything on a dare. Anything. There is a rule against daring Steph to do things while in the manor or on patrol.

Every time she hears someone say Red Robin she yells yum. This has gotten both her and RR shot.

Steph is v lucky that 1) she's a badass and 2) the batfam loves her because she annoys absolutely everyone just for shits and giggles and the only reason she hasn't been murdered is that Cass scares everyone.

Jason:

All common sense is lost when dramas at stake. Say what you will but Jason is the (second) biggest drama queen in the family. Also he, like most bats, lacks a sense of self preservation which leads to shit common sense.

He tried to steal Batman's tires.

Sometimes he listens to music during patrol and tries to hit people/shoot on beat. This has lead to stab wounds.

Jason loves to loudly quote classic literature while on stake outs. This is a problem for obvious reasons.

Duke:

Ok this is around the time you get to average common sense levels. But he still runs around Gotham beating people up in tights (or kevlar) so he doesn't get full points. Also he's still not Babs level common sense. One area Duke lacks common sense in is how to deal with the Batfam (which is v understandable tbh)

One time Duke was joking around with Jason and decided to steal a roll off of Damian's plate. This ended in blood.

Other than lacking Batfam common sense, most of his poor judgement moments are less notable but still concerning.

For example the time he challenged Dick to a hot dog eating contest then went on a roller coaster.

Babs:

Other than being a vigilante Babs almost has normal human common sense. However being a vigilante has negative side effects on ones common sense.

While Babs' sleep schedule isn't as bad as Tim's it's not a whole lot better. She's stayed up 72 consecutive hours multiple times.

She has accidentally poured coffee onto her computer instead of into a coffee mug.

One time she drank an entire gallon of milk before realizing it was a month expired.

Alfred:

Most assume that working for Bruce Wayne is a sign of him lacking common sense. But nah, it's him knowing, understanding, and challenging his own limits. Also it's him being a charitable human being. Like he has enough common sense to go around and tbh it's the only thing keeping the family alive.

"Master Bruce, you may not use Elmer's Glue All to close a wound."

"Master Dick I would encourage you not to teach Master Duke acrobatics on the glass coffee table."

"Miss Stephanie I would not advise trying to consume an entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting, and no, I do not care if Master Jason dared you to."

Tada, there's the list! Sorry that was probably a lot longer than anyone wanted, but I enjoy talking about how ditzy the batfam is. Like they're all geniuses but at the same time they're just sooooo dumb.

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43sparrows · 4 years

Text

l o n g e d - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2,713

Note: please come scream at me in my inbox

Call me.

You've been dreading this note from Five for the past week. It's not that the words are new--a week ago, it would've been excitement causing the twisting feeling in your stomach--but it's the fact that this is the first note you've gotten since you're meltdown. Sure, he'd brushed off your apology, but it's been almost a full week since you've seen each other, and something just doesn't feel the same. Even your roommate has noticed something's off, and while you've shared the news about your ex, you can't bring yourself to tell her how you've gone and proven yourself to be more work than you're worth to Five. So, while the note itself is normal enough, you have the sinking sensation that this is his version of "We need to talk."

And you don't want to talk.

That's why it takes you hours to finally steel yourself up enough to return his call. The sky's growing dark by the time you dial in the number, standing in the hall with you head tilted back against the wall, the phone cord weaving between your fingers.

"Five." His brusque voice makes you want to hang up the phone. Instead, you adjust your grip and tug at the cord.

"Hey," you say, softly. "It's Y/N."

"Took you long enough." His voice is still flirting with being abrasive, but he's saying more than just a couple of words which must mean something. You're not sure what though. "What are you doing in...two hours?"

Confusion knits your brow together as you wrap the cord around one of your fingers. "Nothing, I'm free."

"Howling Rock Cafe. I'll be at the bar."

"Ok," you agree. There's a pause and then the other end of the line goes dead.

You sigh before slowly untangling yourself from the cord so you can hang up the phone and get ready

It's glaringly obvious within the first few seconds of entering the bar that this is not Five's scene.

You can't help but compare this place to the smoky night club where you first met. It's like night and day--and not just because this place has strobe lights bathing just about every inch of the room in colorful lights.

For one, it seems to be crawling with barely legal drinkers. It's not like the two of you are that far removed in age from the rest of the crowd, but Five doesn't exactly seem the type to want to relive college nights out.

And then there's a cover band with the amps turned up way too high as they work their way through pop covers. You miss the lyric-less music of the other bar with its relentless beat that seemed to reverberate in your chest.

It crosses your mind that maybe Five had meant another place or that you'd misheard him on the phone, but then you catch sight of him sitting at the bar with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

"What are you drinking?" You ask, slipping into the seat next to him. He looks at you with heavy lidded eyes, pupils already blown wide. His gaze slides from the curve of your breasts that disappear beneath the plunging neckline of your little black dress down to your legs.

His eyes flick back up to meet yours. "Brandy. For now."

The line would be clumsy on another man's lips, but something about the way he says it has you dizzy, and it's the one piece of Five that's seemed anywhere close to normal since that night.

You tear your eyes away from him, flagging down the bartender to order yourself a gin, neat.

"So," you say, anxiety knotting in the pit of your stomach as you toy with the question that's been on your mind the entire way to the bar. "Howl's?" You change course last second, asking a different, less terrifying question.

"I've heard things about this place," Five said with a shrug. "Figured I'd check them out."

"What'd you hear?" It's genuine curiosity, and maybe it's the refocused attention or maybe it's the large gulp of gin, but you feel yourself relaxing slightly.

"I heard they're heavy pourers," Five says, taking a sip of his drink. He lifts both eyebrows and places the glass back down on the bar. "But it would seem I heard wrong."

You laugh. Nothing about this place suggests they have strong drinks. The prices are too cheap. The crowd is too young.

"At least the atmosphere is nice," you quip, and Five looks around the room before shooting you a mildly amused look. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by a loud group of co-eds who just walked in the door. You turn to look. One is draped in a pink "It's my birthday!" sash. This does not bode well.

"Let's go back to mine. I've restocked," you offer, but Five shakes his head. You wait for him to share a reason or even pick up the sentence he didn't get out, but he doesn't, instead taking another sip of his subpar brandy.

You wish that you had your own drink in front of you, shooting a look at the bartender who looks to be making about four drinks at once. The knot inside of you has come back, growing even tighter as the silence extends. Silence has never been uncomfortable with Five before.

You attribute this largely to the fact that up until this point you've always been so careful about following the rules of engagement, as it were. And while you don't know for sure, it feels like you're guilty of a breach of contract. You wish you could remember what you said, but you can hardly even remember what you did. It's all a blur.

You know he came over, you announced your ex's engagement, and then he tucked you into bed and made sure you had coffee the next morning.

There had to have been more to that night than just that, though. Because emotions and caretaking--that wasn't part of the deal.

Then again, neither was going out to bars.

The bartender placed your gin in front of you and gratefully you took a long drink from it. You could feel Five's eyes on you as you lowered the glass back down.

"That kind of day?" he asked.

You returned your attention to him. "That kind of week," you corrected. He nodded and toasted you with his own glass before the both of you drank.

You tapped your finger lightly against the side of your gin, the alcohol had yet to take hold but you could feel the warming sensation flowing through you. It was enough of a comfort to know that soon the nerves that had been humming beneath your skin all week would be quiet. "So, why are we here?" The words slipped past your lips, earning a raised eyebrow from Five.

"I told you, I wanted to check this place out."

"That's it?" Your finger still beat steadily against the side of your glass.

You could see the awareness dawn on Five, a sly smile twisting at his lips. "I can't just want your company?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Or maybe it was three. And although the alcohol was supposed to have you pleasantly numb, instead you felt like you were on fire. "I would have thought you had enough of my company after last week."

Realization reached his eyes this time as he shook his head at you. "No," he said, angling his body more towards yours. "I haven't had enough."

The two of you are in the bathroom two hours later.

As far as bar bathrooms go, it's surprisingly clean and roomy. The second part is probably due to the fact the owners had opted for a single use closet style bathroom as opposed to anything remotely functional for the size of the crowd this place has drawn in with it's mediocre music and watered down drinks.

It's not the worst place to have sex, but if you were in your right mind you probably would have insisted that Five pop you back to your place instead. But the consecutive drinks and Five's hand trailing up your thigh had been so intoxicating, you didn't even protest when he took your hand in his and dragged you in here to push you up against the sink.

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, his hands keeping your dress bunched up at your waist. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he moves your panties to the side, pressing a finger into you. "Five," you mumble, a moan escaping you as he curls his finger.

"Louder," Five commands, his lips grazing against your neck, moving down to trail love bites along your collarbone. He pushes into you again, and his name falls from your lips again, this time at a normal volume.

"Louder," Five urges, kissing under your jaw, as you fist the back of his shirt in your hands. Your entire body feels like a taut string, and he's just getting started. You know this has to be quick, there's probably going to be a line outside, but the way his fingers are moving has effectively killed all thoughts outside of the fact that you haven't lost him. He's still, in some small way, yours.

"Five, please," you plead, and you're not quite sure what you're pleading for--release or more of him.

"Fuck," he swears, withdrawing from you and spinning you around, so you have both hands on either side of the sink, your ass exposed to him. He leans in close, and you can feel the length of his entire body against your back. "I love it when you beg." His whisper is hot in your ear, and a needy gasp leaves you. Dirty talk isn't part of the usual routine, and you didn't expect it to have such an effect.

He withdraws, his fingers tucking into the sides of your underwear and dragging them down to your knees. Behind you, you hear his buckle clink as he frees himself from his pants. It's a second more of anticipation before his hands find your hips, and he slowly enters you, allowing you to feel each inch of him. His fingers dig into your hips as a groan leaves him. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you promise yourself that you'll remember this moment and that sound forever.

Five continues to move at a sensual pace, and your eyes flick up to the mirror, taking in his face. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and an intense but unidentifiable feeling builds in you. And then his hips unexpectedly snap into yours, earning him a loud moan.

It also seems to earn a knock at the door.

"Alright guys, wrap it up. Other people need to use the bathroom," a gruff voice says on the other side of the door.

It might have been a bit of a mood killer if it weren't for the fact that Five repeats the motion, leaving you gasping. He pulls you up close to him, one hand on your hip and the other toying with your breast. "Can't leave them waiting," he grunts, and your head lolls back onto his shoulder. Despite the fact that it's been shorter than the vast majority of your sessions together, you're more of a needy mess then you've ever been. Maybe it's the combination of the alcohol and publicness and the sounds coming from Five, but whatever it is, it's not long before you're cumming, and not long after, he is too.

There's now pounding at the door.

"Come on, you guys gotta get out. Let's go."

Five smirks at you from where he's pulling his pants back up--or at least, if he was anyone else you'd call it a smirk. It's softer than usual though--although it's still not quite a smile. Like you're in on the joke with him. It makes your heart beat a little faster, and you're just able to stop yourself from a full blown smile, the corners of your mouth turning down in an attempt to seem cool as usual. He gestures with his head towards the door, and after checking yourself in the mirror and making yourself seem slightly more presentable, you follow him out, keeping your eyes trained on the floor so you don't have to look at the bouncer or line of people waiting by the door.

Unfortunately, the bouncer seems to have other plans.

"Y/N?"

You know that voice. Without the door between you and the fake gruffness, it's clear as day, and it feels a bit like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. You feel painfully sober.

Your eyes widen, and you turn to see your ex dressed in the black t-shirt and jeans, looking just as shocked to see you.

"Oh my God," you mumble.

"Uh--" he says, pointing to the door, and you make your way towards it, Five still next to you, and your ex following up behind you. You stop just beside the door, across from where another bouncer is checking IDs.

"Sorry, I--you can't stay." He does seem genuinely apologetic, and you're not sure if it's just the awkwardness of the whole situation or if he really feels bad.

"No, no. I get it," you shake your head. Five's hand drifts to the small of your back, and your previously blank mind remembers that oh yeah--he's here too. This is the worst moment of your life. "Oh, this is, um, Five. Five, this is Jordan. We...we used to date." That seems like a wildly simplistic introduction for both of them, but you're still reeling.

"Five? Like the kid from The Umbrella Academy?"

Five's smile is so fake you wouldn't be surprised if Jordan could also sense the thinly veiled animosity. "The very same," Five says, holding out his hand and shaking Jordan's. His arm returns around you.

Jordan looks like he's a mixture of confused and impressed, and before this situation can get any worse, you open your mouth and start saying words, hoping they come out in order and make sense.

"I didn't know you work here."

Jordan's eyes linger on Five for a second more before meeting yours. "Yeah, I had to pick up another job...I'm getting married."

"Oh, congratulations." you say less than earnestly, pushing hair behind your ear. Emotion swirls in your chest, pressure building to react--to sob, to scream, to sink into the ground. Anything but stand here.

"Well," Five says, coming to your rescue. "I should take her home." You look up at him, and there's a ghost of smugness on his face. If you hadn't studied him for so long, you might have missed the look, but it's there.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Jordan nods, stepping back towards the bar. "It was good to see you, Y/N."

It's a lie. But he's not the only liar here. "You too," you say nodding. "Good luck with the wedding."

"Thanks," he nods again like a bobblehead, and you turn and head out the door quickly with Five.

The two of you walk down the sidewalk and towards the parking garage in silence. It's not until you're passing rows of cars that Five speaks. "Did you drive?"

You shake your head, your thoughts still on the way Five had handled that situation. You have a terrible feeling.

It's unspoken that Five will give you a ride home, so you don't bother to ask for a ride. Instead, you save up your question, waiting until the two of you are stopped at a red light, halfway home to ask.

"Did you know he worked there?"

The corner of Five's mouth turns up. "Might have been a thing I heard about that place."

You have more questions, but you don't want to ask them. That one was enough to shatter the illusion you'd been creating all night.

That he had brought you out because he wanted your company.

That he might return a hint of the feelings you had for him.

That this was something other than what it was.

Read the final part

#five hargreeves #number five #number 5 #number five smut #number 5 smut #five hagreeves smut #five smut #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number 5 x reader #number five x reader

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astralpenguin · 3 years

Text

@transnaturalweek day 2: coming out

1.4k, ao3 link

Kaia knew about Claire, but Claire had never needed to tell her.

Kaia had been there with them while they figured it out. Kaia had listened while they tried putting into words what they’d been feeling for a long time. Kaia had encouraged them to research these feelings, and had been there when they’d found out that there were a lot of people out there who felt exactly the same way. Telling Kaia that, hey, it turned out they’re not a girl after all, was easy, because Kaia had been sitting right next to them when they realised and accepted this about themself in the first place.

But if they wanted the other people in their life to ever stop calling them she, then they had to tell people about it.

Claire wasn’t interested in changing up how they looked. They liked having their hair long, and they liked the tinted lip balms they wore every day, and they didn’t want to bind. But they knew what this meant. They knew what people would assume when they saw them. Frustrating as it was, most people weren’t psychic, and they weren’t going to know that Claire wasn’t a girl unless they told them. Claire would be free to get as angry as they liked at anybody who continued to call them the wrong thing after they’d been told about it, and that anger would be fully deserved, but getting angry at people for using the wrong words to describe them when they literally didn’t know any better wouldn’t help anyone or solve anything. The world sucked, and the assumptions that people would make sucked, but it wasn’t any individual person’s fault.

They knew that if they’d figured this whole gender thing out while Kaia had been gone then they absolutely would’ve followed it up by getting angry at everybody they’d ever interacted with for not knowing. Kaia’s presence in their life calmed them, made them feel more able to face the world and all of its unfairness. They were okay so long as Kaia was in their corner.

And Kaia was in their corner about this. But Kaia couldn’t tell people for them. Claire didn’t want Kaia to tell people for them. This was something that Claire had to do themself.

They already knew how the conversations would go. Castiel and Sam would be supportive for sure. They’d probably be painfully earnest about it. Dean wouldn’t lay it on as thick as the other two, but he’d be supportive as well. Donna would grin like she always does and give them a hug. Jody would thank them for telling her and tell them that she was proud of them. Alex and Patience would actually know how to be chill, and Jack would definitely get excited and be overenthusiastic and very unchill. Claire knew that nobody that they wanted to know would react badly, and they knew that none of the people that loved them would love them any less once they knew.

It was still daunting.

Claire watched the coffee machine do its thing and considered the pros and cons of putting everyone in a group chat, making the announcement, and immediately leaving the chat. It was sounding more and more appealing every second.

“Oh, hey.”

Claire turned towards the kitchen doorway, and the source of the voice.

“I didn’t realise anyone would be in here,” said Patience.

Claire glanced towards the clock. “It’s three in the morning,” they said. “What are you doing up?”

Patience stepped into the room. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Claire flashed a grin. “I haven’t gone to bed yet. You’re the one with a normal sleep schedule.”

Patience eyed the coffee machine. “Are you planning on sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re making coffee?”

Claire shrugged. “Want some?”

Patience nodded. “Please.”

The coffee machine beeped and Claire poured out two mugs. They stirred in milk and sugar, and handed one of the mugs to Patience.

Most people weren’t psychic, and wouldn’t know Claire’s pronouns if they didn’t tell them. But Patience was actually psychic. Her specific brand of psychic ability allowed her to see into the future, not read minds, so Patience likely still didn’t know. There was a possibility that she’d already had a vision of Claire telling people, but there was a bigger possibility that she hadn’t had a vision about that, especially since Claire hadn’t made a concrete decision yet about when and how they’d be telling people.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” said Claire, leaning back against the counter and cradling their mug. “Why are you awake right now?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Patience turned towards the window and looked out into the night. “It happens sometimes. Usually nobody else is around.”

“Sorry to disturb your insomnia routine.”

Patience caught Claire’s eye through their reflections in the mirror and smiled gently. “It’s okay. You’re not disturbing me. The company is nice.”

“Does Jody know? Or-”

Patience shook her head. “I don’t want to worry her.”

Claire sipped their coffee. “I get that,” they said. “But if it gets any worse then you should tell her. She might seem overprotective but she’s only like that because she cares.”

Patience raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and you take it so well when Jody’s overprotective with you. Are you really trying to play the wise older sister thing with me right now?”

Claire stifled a laugh, aware that other people in the house were trying to sleep. “That depends,” they said. “Is it working?”

“Nope. You’re too much of a hypocrite.”

“Damn.”

Patience laughed softly and sipped her coffee.

And she didn’t know, she didn’t, so Claire couldn’t be upset with her when what exactly she’d said sunk in a little deeper. Claire wasn’t anyone’s sister, but Patience didn’t know not to call them that. She hadn’t done anything wrong. The only person that Claire could get upset with over this situation was themself, but they weren’t about to do that.

But there was a way to make sure that it didn’t happen again.

For all that it had seemed daunting earlier, in this moment it was easy.

“Speaking of things that Jody doesn’t know about, I’m not a girl.”

The smile on Patience’s face dimmed. She turned to face Claire properly. “You’re not?”

Claire shook their head. “I’m gonna tell everyone soon, but. Yeah. I’m not.”

“So you’re a guy?”

“No,” said Claire. “Well, it’s complicated. I’m kinda somewhere in between.”

Patience nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Should I use they and them when talking about you, then?”

Relief flooded Claire that Patience already knew about this stuff, and that they weren’t about to have to give a big explanation about things that they didn’t even understand themself until a few weeks ago. “Yes, that’s exactly what you should use.”

“Got it,” said Patience. “Do you want me to hold off on using those pronouns in front of people who you haven’t told yet? People might not notice either way, but I wouldn’t want to out you.”

“Uh...” Claire drank more of their coffee as they considered this. “I guess you can judge it for yourself? I’m hoping to tell people soon anyway, so I don’t know if that’ll be an issue. Kaia already knows.”

Patience placed her mug on the counter. “I figured you’d have told Kaia already if you’re telling me.”

“Kaia helped me figure it out.” Claire traced their finger over the rim of their mug. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Oh.” She looked touched. “Thank you.”

Claire pushed themself off the counter and put their empty mug in the sink. “Yeah, well. I mostly just wanted to correct you that I’m your wise older sibling, not sister.”

Patience laughed softly. “Older sibling? Yes. Wise? I’m not convinced.”

“Hey, screw you,” said Claire, a bubble of laughter escaping as they spoke. “I’m wise!”

“Didn’t you nearly get yourself killed last month because you tried fighting a pack of Rawheads by yourself?”

“I successfully fought a pack of Rawheads by myself, and obviously I was fine.”

“Jody was so angry when you told her about it.”

Claire grinned. “She was.”

Patience picked her mug up and placed it in the sink. “I’m gonna head back to my room,” she said.

“Gonna try and sleep?”

She shook her head. “Not much point. I’ll spend a few hours reading and go to bed early tomorrow to make up for it.”

Claire nodded. “Enjoy.”

Patience smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I will.”

She left the kitchen, leaving Claire alone.

Okay.

So that went well.

They took a deep breath.

Maybe tomorrow they could tell Alex. After that, they weren’t so sure. The group chat announcement was still looking like a good idea.

They didn’t need to worry about it now.

They hit the kitchen light and made their way up to their and Kaia’s room.

It was time for them to sleep.

#transnaturalweek #spn #supernatural #claire novak #patience turner #fanfic #el creates

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inkbyajm · 3 years

Text

Something Brewing

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety attack

word count: 1.5k

notes: felt like angst, felt like sobbing uncontrollably, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so imagining it will do for now. this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i didn’t realise how much i had written. now i’m splitting it into two parts. next part will definitely be more angst than fluff, so stay tuned for the terrifying sight that is angry corpse :) (p.s. don’t mind the occasional use of british english, it’s my default lmao)

next >

A peculiar thing it was, the concept of love. It was very personal and feelings about it varied from person to person. For some, it had existed since the beginning of time, when Adam and Eve first walked the Earth, when the Almighty willed his beloved humans to lead their own lives with him in their hearts. For others, it is a feeling to long for, to crave, a feeling they found themselves daydreaming about often. And for the rest, love is a tool of ruin, potentially driving people who cared for one another away from each other, instilling at least a smidge of repulsion in each one of them. However, humans are social creatures after all, and sometimes, attraction was unavoidable no matter how much one tried. And try he did.

━

Living in California could get hard and stressful at times, but at least Corpse didn’t live at the heart of the city of anxiety-inducing social interactions and constant chaos that was Los Angeles. Sure, it meant that he didn’t live close to his friends, but he wasn’t far away from her, and that was enough for him.

A few soft grunts and sounds of slippers landing on the hardwood floor echoed from the kitchen of (Y/N)’s apartment. He got up from the couch in her living room and decided to investigate the source of the noise. Coming into the room, he saw her jumping to reach the highest shelf in one of the cupboards. Looking at it, he noticed her favourite mug sitting at the edge of said shelf and, afraid she would knock it over whilst attempting to grab it, he effortlessly got it for her. “Thank you. God, I was about to grow a foot taller trying to reach for this thing.” she sighed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him, “See, this is exactly why you’re my favourite friend.” Friend? Well, yes, of course a friend, what else would he be? Corpse felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was feeling that way, so he brushed it aside. “Why was it that high up if you can’t even reach it?” (Y/N) wasn’t a short person, she was perfectly average, and he himself wasn’t that tall of a guy either. But when it came to situations of this kind, he couldn’t help but feel good about his being taller. “It usually isn’t, but I let (F/N) use it once the other day because she refused to drink out of any of the other mugs, that stubborn bitch.” she replied, pouring her homemade Italian hot chocolate into the acquired cup. (F/N) was also taller than (Y/N), so it was only natural for her to be putting things in higher places. It was done out of habit.

(Y/N) and Corpse walked back to the living room to once again settle into the couch. He glanced at her as she sat with her legs crossed, concentrated on blowing on her moderately hot beverage, while the light from the moon peeked through the curtains of the balcony door, illuminating her face ever so slightly. Since when did he start noticing these things? Looking away to set his eyes on the TV in front of them, he sensed his heart beating at an usual rhythm, palpitating, and along with it came slight lightheadedness. Was he having a heart attack? Were these signs of atrial fibrillation? Or was this simply the start of an anxiety attack? Surely any of these would be more...recognisable, to say the least. The only situation he could think of with similar reactions was when one would develop a crush. A fucking crush? At his age? How old was he, ten? “Earth to Corpse? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sleep with their eyes open, that’s fucking creepy.” Her finger snaps pulled him out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, were you saying something?” “I asked you if you had watched Bly Manor like three times. You were very far away.” she answered, emitting a few giggles. “Sorry, I uh- I was thinking of something, but it’s stupid. And no, I haven’t, I’ve been meaning to, though.” And just like that, they settled on the show they were going to watch for the next couple of weeks.

━

“NOOOOOOO,” (Y/N) yelled, voicing her defeat “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF LUCK IS THIS.” Corpse lay on the floor, slamming his palm down onto it out of hysterical laughter. They had been playing Unmatched for the past hour, this being their third round, and after many cards and a level of tension that could only be cut through with a saw, his Robin Hood had finally defeated her Alice. It was Corpse’s first time playing, so to say that his winning of all three games was a crushing moment for her was an understatement. “This is not normal, you lied saying you’ve never played before!” she pouted, putting everything back into the box, “I’m usually really good at this game.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep a good composure. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve found my talent,” he joked, but he did feel bad for stealing her thunder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that my Robin Hood is, like, extremely hurt right now? You have a fucking gigantic knife as a weapon, I only have, like, a bow and arrow. That’s kind of unfair.” (Y/N) bit her lip in hesitation, then picked up her figurine and lightly tapped it along the table to approach his. Putting Alice at a slight angle, she made a kissing sound as to imitate her character smooching his. “There, a kiss to make it better. I promise not to hurt you too much if you let me win next time.”

The same strange feeling he had experienced for the first time two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch of her living room, and many more times after that, had come back. He would’ve blamed it on heartburn, except it was nothing like it. It wasn’t anything he was used to. “Hey, you alright?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows in concern “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your chest like that.” Fuck. He had never noticed the habit he had developed. “I’m fine, just me and my heart problems, nothing unusual.” Filthy liar. Brows still furrowed, she moved closer to him and, with her legs tucked under her, she put her hand above his heart to check. “Jesus, Corpse, your heart is going a million miles per hour! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Looking up at him, she noticed how red he had suddenly become, and this worried her even more. “Bubs, you’re literally changing colours.” How did she expect him not to when she was doing this? (Y/N) further inspected his condition and put the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheeks, to check his temperature. Expectedly, he was getting warmer. She stopped for a second and listened intently, only to hear his shallow breathing fill the silence. She then glanced down at his left hand resting on his thigh, and surely enough, found it trembling. “Alright, Corpse? Hey, can you hear me?”

His breathing only picked up its pace as the seconds went by. On the spur of the moment, (Y/N) placed herself in front of him, her legs on either side, and gently cradled his head. “Corpse, darling, I’m gonna need you to look at me, okay? Focus on me, focus on my breathing, mm?” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ground and did as he was told, eyes darting around, analysing her expression. He’s never found himself having an attack in her presence, it was surprising how well she was handling it.

Wait- darling? Bubs? “Now, can you name four things that you see? Can you do that for me?” He briefly scanned the room for answers, his mind still cluttered. “The fridge, the couch, the light and-” Did she mean to call him that? It was probably nothing, she could be using it with any of her friends for all he knew. He wasn’t special. “and the game, the board game. On the table.” “Good, now can you name three things you hear?” This one took a lot of concentration, there weren’t many obvious sounds for him to point out. “The motorcycle outside, your hands rubbing against my skin, uh-” What the fuck else? Was he losing his mind? The task was simple enough, why was he having so much trouble with it? “I’m sorry, I- I don’t hear anything else.” “No, it’s okay. You’re doing splendid, see? Your breathing is much more stable.” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arms.

“Lastly, can you give me two things you can smell?” Nodding, he closed his eyes. “The coffee you drank earlier.” It took him a moment to come up with something else, and just as she was about to get off of his lap, figuring he had done a good enough job, she heard him mumble “your perfume”. Scared he’d get another attack, Corpse avoided looking into her eyes, which he could feel the gaze of. He only picked up on the scent from her shifting closer in the last second. “That’s funny, I had forgotten to put perfume on this morning.”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic

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batsandbugs · 3 years

Text

Daminette December

A/N: Okay so this one spiraled out of control a little bit, but I’m so happy with how it turned out! Marinette and Damian back to being chaotic little shits, Marinette being understanding, and Damian going a little too far but finding the one person who doesn’t mind. Let me know what y’all think. Thanks @daminette-december2019-2020

Daminette December Day 15 – Cats

If you had told Marinette back in May that by Christmas she would be living in the most crime-infested city in America going to college, working at a pet store that was most likely a front for the Russian mob, and trying to unravel a 300-year-old curse on said crime-infested-city…

… she would have believed you.

After all, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her.

But back to the pet store.

There she was a week before Christmas living in a shoebox apartment, drowning in fabric and notions, with a magical box filled with tiny gods who loved to squabble and give conflicting vague advice. They were supposed to work on how to break the giant magical curse laid out across the city, but Marinette had gotten hired at the local pet store down the street because if she spent one more minute sequestered inside trying to decipher the handwriting of centuries-old monks, without a break, she would scream.

Plus, the animals were ridiculously cute and the current owner obviously had no clue how to take care of them – which is how she concluded the store was a money-laundering front. The owner, a Mr. Petriov, had known her for all of three days before leaving her to manage the shop by herself. That hadn’t changed much in the month she had worked here, but at least the animals were in better shape now and she had a slightly larger budget for the endless amount of coffee she drank.

Marinette swept the back of the room, trying to make sure it was as clean as she could get it. Despite her best efforts at trying to cheer the place up, the plastic Christmas decorations and lively music did little to distract from the poor living conditions of the animals. Marinette wished there was some way to help, but she was rather limited in her options in a foreign city and Plagg’s suggestions of stealing all the animals and burning the place down was not a viable one.

No matter how much Marinette wanted to sometimes.

The store bell rang.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she called. She finished sweeping the last of the room, before putting the broom away, and coming out to the main part of the store. “Hi there, I’m Marinette, how can I-”

“Did you know that Gotham Department of Health and Safety Regulations, Section 45: Animals and Livestock, subsection C.1: Living conditions, states that cages for cats must be 30 inches in width, 28 inches in length, 30 inches in height, and 30 inches on the diagonal? And that yours do not match those specifications?” There in the center of the store stood a man about her age. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a long, expensive, looking coat billowed out behind him. His voice was posh and smooth, and his tone could cut glass. He looked around the store in thinly veiled disgust.

Marinette vaguely recognized him. He’d been in the store about two weeks ago. He hadn’t said anything when she asked if he needed help. He just went around to all the cages watching the animals through the bars. She had gone about her normal routine, and then he left a little while later. The only reason she remembered him at all was he was wearing the same designer coat with wool Marinette’s hands itched to get a hold of.

“I- I did not. Although, this is not my store.” The man glared at her, and had Marinette not been used to a lifetime of truly piercing glares from Chloe, she might have crumbled underneath it. “I’ve only been working here for a month and let me tell you it’s better than it was before.”

“These conditions are intolerable.”

Marinette usually kept a cool façade with the few customers who came in here, but this man was obviously looking for a fight; not that she didn’t completely agree with him.

“I’m well aware, but I’m doing the best with what I have here, especially since my boss doesn’t care.” One of the cats mewled loudly, and Marinette sighed. She knew exactly who that was. Walking over to one of the cages she opened it up. A tiny grey cat with tipped black ears and paws jumped into her arms. Marinette had named him Macaroon since Mr. Petriov hadn’t bothered to give any of them names.

“Sorry,” she said. “Macaroon likes attention, and he’s good with people so I bring him out when others come in to pet them.” The man came over and let the cat sniff his hand before scratching under the his chin.

“He looks well taken care of,” he complimented, although he still scowled. Marinette couldn’t help but think he would be much more handsome if he smiled.

“As I said, I try my best. I take them all out of their cages so they can stretch their legs, and not just the dogs either. But that’s whenever I’m not cleaning, or prepping food, or taking care of the paperwork.” Or at home trying to figure out how to banish a city-wide curse, Marinette thought to herself.

The man hummed. “Look, you seem… nice.” He said the word in such a way that implied he didn’t believe the concept existed. “So, I’ll let you know ahead of time, but this store is going to get raided tomorrow. It’s a-”

“Front for the Russian Mob?” Marinette finished. The man seemed taken aback and immediately glared at her again. “Yeah, I figured that out within a few days of working here. I just had no clue as to who to go to about it. Who’s going to help a tiny French girl about a corrupt business in a city known for corruption?” She raised an eyebrow at the man who seemed taken aback by her abruptness.

“Fair point. So why are you working here then? If you know it’s corrupt.”

Marinette sighed; it was true she had plenty else to be doing, school was over for the semester sure, but there was always magic to learn, or sites to go check out to see if they were connected to the curse, or she could have gone home for the break and visited her parents, but…

If she did any of that, no one would be here to look out for the animals. And just because she couldn’t actively be a hero, didn’t mean she was going to turn up her back on those who needed her, even if they were of the four-legged variety.

She looked back at the handsome man; how could she explain any of that to him.

… not that she should.

Because that would be bad.

She didn’t know him at all.

Even if he was ridiculously good looking.

Fuck.

She did not have the time to get caught up in anything else, especially not a crush.

So instead, she went with a mostly true answer. “Just because the people running the store are bad, doesn’t mean the animals are. I would come by here on my way from school and would want to let the poor things out of their cages. So, when I finally had enough time, I applied for a job.” The look on the man’s face was a cross between surprise and understanding. “And you’d want to do something else too if the last three months all you did was stare at miles of hand-sewn hems and contemplate if death would be kinder.”

Marinette bet the man would deny it if pointed out, but the side of his mouth turned up at her comment.

“Understandable.”

“My question is,” she asked, stroking Macaroon who was happily purring away in her arms. “Why would you tell the person working at the Russian mob front that you’re going to have the store raided the next day? Doesn’t that seem a little counter-productive?” Not that Marinette was in any way complaining, she had been waiting for an opportunity like this for weeks.

“It depends on whether you tell your boss or not.”

“Hell no.”

Finally, the man’s face morphed from a resting scowl into a self-satisfied smirk.

Oh no, he’s even hotter like that, Marinette thought.

“Then I think telling was exactly the right idea. You’ll need to give a statement to the department doing the raid, but you won’t be in trouble for anything that went down here.”

Marinette nodded, and then remembered something. “Would pictures help?”

“Pictures?”

“I’ve been taking pictures of all the documents that come through the front desk. The legitimate ones and the less legitimate ones. It’s only about a month’s worth of stuff, but I have it on a flash drive.”

The man’s smirk grew a bit more. “Yes, I do believe that would be useful.”

Marinette smiled, finally glad this place would get shut down, but then she looked at Macaroon so snuggly in her arms, and all the other lovely creatures throughout the store came to mind. “And the animals, will they be okay?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to them. They’ll all be going to reputable shelters or good homes through the Wayne Foundation.”

Marinette readjusted Macaroon in her arms. “That’s good. So, should I bring the flash drive when I give my statement or-”

“I can take it,” he said quickly. “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “You can give it to me, and I can hand it off to the… proper authorities.” The glint in his eye spelled trouble. Marinette thought it was completely unfair how attractive she found it.

“It’s in my apartment. My shift is only another hour, but….” She thought about her mess of an apartment covered in yards of fabric, questionable ancient artifacts, and the tiny floating talking gods. “It’s a bit of a mess, how about we meet elsewhere?”

“Yes,” the man responded quickly. He looked down at Macaroon and stroked the cat’s back, a light blush playing out over his cheeks. “Of course, that would be acceptable.”

“Coffee then?” asked Marinette, glad to have a little longer to chat with him.

“Sounds good. Inman Perk at 7th and Forge Street?”

“I love that place. I’m Marinette by the way, I think I said that.”

The man smirked again, “You did, but it’s nice to hear it. I’m Damian, Damian Wayne.”

“I’d shake your hand Damian, but my arms are a little full.” She readjusted Macaroon, moving over to his cage placing the content cat back inside. Marinette smiled, happy to know this would be the last night the animals would have to sleep in these too-small cages. She turned back to Damian and offered her hand.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Mr. Wayne,” she said with a grin.

He clasped his hand with hers, and she delighted at the chill it sent up her spine. “Not nearly as much as I am with you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette paused for a moment, “I don’t think I ever gave you my last name?”

Damian paused, his face of a person caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “I may, perhaps, have done a slight background check on you before I decided to confront you today.” He retreated his hands and clasped them behind his back. “Uh, I- I apologize if that comes off a little…” he trailed off.

“Invasive, creepy, overbearing?”

Damian’s face fell. “Yes.”

Marinette tried hard to hold in her smirk. “Or protective, concerned, over-invested? I’ve had friends like that before.” Thinking particularly of Kagami, or her own actions towards Adrian during those early years. “It’s a little much, but not so bad especially when confronting someone who may be part of the Russian mob.”

Damian’s face went from contrite to an all-out grinning smirk. “You? Part of the mob? A little hard to believe.”

“Oh, you never know”’ she teased back. “I think I could pull it off, no one ever expects the tiny French girl.”

A bark from the back of the store interrupted their flirting, soon all of the dogs were barking, and Marinette realized the time.

“I’ve got to get them all taken out and fed. I’ll be finished in about an hour, I’ll grab the stuff from my apartment and meet you at… 8:30?”

Damian nodded. “Of course, see you there.” And with that he turned on his heel and walked out of the store, his long coat billowing like a cape behind him. Marinette watched him disappear from view and waited a second before she punched the air. She couldn’t wait. She kneeled back down at the cage and scratched Macaroon’s chin.

“Thanks for being such a good luck charm.” The cat purred back happily. Marinette headed off to finish what she needed to get done, wondering what the heck she was going to wear.

Permanent Tag List

@loveswifi @fusser90 @animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @your-resident-chicken-nugget @nathleigh @moonlitceleste @m3owww

#damian x marinette #maridami #maribat #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #moodboard #damientte #daminette december #day 15: cats

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 3

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 3

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2344

Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.

Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn

Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.

The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.

“What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.

“Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.

“Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.

“You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.

You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.

Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”

“She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.

When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.

“I think we should do gifts.”

It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”

You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.

“‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.

“It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.

Sam heard anyway.

“You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.

“I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.

About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.

It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.

You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.

Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.

“Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”

He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.

“Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.

“Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.

“I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”

“That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.

You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.

“I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.

You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”

“They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”

You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.

“It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.

“It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.

“Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.

“Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.

“Want to open the other one?”

Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”

He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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