The AuDHD nursing experience is literally just *don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist don’t become a misogynist remember that cishet man environments suck differently okay? Okay*

Batting Practice Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley finds you having a panic attack on your bathroom floor, and he just knows Danny treated you as badly as he treated Everett. You start making your plans to move on. Bradley starts making plans for the rest of his life. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut and swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley wasn't sure what he expected to find when he got to your house, but the sight of you hyperventilating on your bathroom floor was worse than anything else he had imagined. You were wearing your suit from work, sobbing and clutching your hands to your chest. 

"Oh, Kitten. I'm here." He dropped to the floor next to you and kissed your tear streaked cheeks as he pulled you into his arms so you weren't lying on the hard floor. 

You were sobbing so hard, your entire body was shaking. Bradley kept trying to wipe your tears away, but more and more fell in their place. Whatever Danny said or did to you, it was unacceptable. And Bradley had a feeling that he might be heading over to Mission Beach to give him another piece of his mind after he left your house once you calmed down. 

"Bradley," you gasped, teeth chattering as he kissed your forehead and rubbed your back. 

"I'm here, Kitten," he promised, but the body wrenching sobs were back now as you shook your head against his chest. Your fists were clenched tight, and he was just trying to help you get your breathing even so you could talk to him. "I love you, baby. Take your time."

A few minutes later, you eased yourself away from him, hiccupping and taking deep breaths. Your voice was hoarse and filled with sorrow as you told him, "Danny doesn't want Everett."

Bradley's brow was furrowed as he ran his hands along your arms and helped you remove your suit jacket. He already knew Danny couldn't be bothered spending time with Everett, but he didn't know how to respond to you right now.

You said it again. "Danny doesn't want Everett." Your eyes were red and glassy, and you were staring past him at nothing. "I went to his place after work, and he told me he's not going to pay child support."

Bradley took your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. "You and Ev don't need him. You're better off without him."

You sniffed and shook your head as Bradley ran his thumbs along your cheeks. "No, you don't understand. Danny doesn't want Everett! When I threatened him with a lawyer, he told me that Ev and I can just fuck off." You closed your eyes against the wave of new tears as you whispered, "He hates us enough that he wants to relinquish custody. He wants me to make that happen."

Oh. Shit. 

"Come here," Bradley coaxed until you were sitting in his lap, fists still clenched. 

"I'm a horrible mom," you sobbed, and Bradley thought his heart was going to break. "I kept making him spend time with his dad, over and over again, and Danny doesn't even want him."

"Kitten."

"What's wrong with Everett?" you asked softly. "Why doesn't his own dad want to spend time with him? I can understand Danny hating me, but this doesn't make any sense. I can't understand it."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "You're a wonderful mom, Kitten. But Danny has never been good enough for you. And that's his problem."

Bradley held you tight so your lips were brushing his neck when you spoke, but your voice was miserable. "I left my son with his own father for the day, but Danny doesn't even want him. He was smoking pot the whole time."

Bradley could feel the weight of your words as you spoke. He wanted to make you feel better. Needed you to understand that this was all your ex's problem, and that it had nothing to do with your ability to be a good parent. "He's selfish, baby. And he's literally so fucking dumb. You and Everett are perfect."

You wiped your eyes on his shirt and mumbled, "I'm such a mess, Bradley. I tried so hard to give Everett everything he deserves, but I don't know what else to do. I wouldn't even blame you if you wanted to bail on us, honestly."

"Kitten," Bradley said, coaxing your chin up so you were looking at him. "You have it together. More than anyone else I know. You're not a mess. You're a good mom. You're already the best girlfriend I've ever had. And I'm not going anywhere."

You sniffed and wiped at your tears again, and that's when Bradley saw that you had your necklace in your fist. The paw print he'd given to you. Then he noticed that you had some abrasions on the side of your neck where your necklace should have been, and he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter. 

"What happened to your necklace?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

You sucked in a breath. "Don't be mad, but it broke. I'll get it fixed! I still have the charm!"

Bradley closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not mad, Kitten. Did Danny break it?" When you were quiet for a moment, he whispered, "I can see that the skin on your neck is scraped up."

"It was my fault," you told him. "He was pushing me toward the front door, trying to get me to leave his house. His fingers must have gotten tangled, and then I turned around and-"

"Danny had his hands on you? On your neck?" Bradley was no longer able to stay calm. "Are you kidding me right now?"

He was going to go over there and beat the shit out of Danny. Just like he should have when he picked Everett up yesterday. Bradley started to stand up, but you came with him and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"What are you doing? I didn't mean to make you mad."

And then he realized that if he did what he really wanted to do right now, he was going to cause more damage for you to deal with. He would just be upsetting you further. "I'm not mad at you. You're so damn sweet, Kitten. Always thinking of everyone else. I don't think there's anything you could do that would make me mad. But if Danny touched you today, that's unacceptable, okay? I will not allow that."

"Bradley."

"No. I won't allow him to hurt you or Everett. In any way. Turns out I can't stand the sight of either of you crying. Now promise me you won't go over to Danny's again without me. I need you to promise me."

You nodded and said, "I promise." And then Bradley collected your necklace from your hand and pocketed it before he kissed the scrapes on the side of your neck.

"You don't need him," Bradley whispered against your skin, pleading with you to understand. "You and Everett... you're better than anything. Anyone. Okay? And if Danny wants to give up custody, I think you should let him."

You just looked up at him in misery. "I don't know what the lawyer will tell me to do." Your voice was barely audible. "Ev won't have a dad."

Bradley didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't say it as he held you in his arms in the middle of your bathroom. "He's not worth it. He's never been a good dad. And you have Molly, and she would do anything for the two of you. Right? I know she would." You nodded at him, and Bradley ran his fingers along the side of your neck. "And you have me."

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

You let Bradley help you get undressed and get into the bathtub. He filled the tub with bubbles and kissed your forehead about a million times, and then he offered to order you dinner while he sat on your bathroom floor looking impossibly perfect. 

"I want pizza. Junk food will help me feel better," you told him, and there was a soft smile touching your lips now. Bradley was making everything better and easier. 

"I'll order it now," he said, looking up the phone number of your favorite place that delivered. 

You already knew that you needed to let Danny go. But having a panic attack and crying for an hour on your bathroom floor had been a necessary part of coming to terms with it. And now you were emotionally worn out, but your body was buzzing with energy as Bradley ordered both of you dinner with his credit card.

"It will be here soon, Kitten. And then we can cuddle and talk more. If you want."

You nodded. "I want."

Bradley smiled at you before he went to the kitchen to get some plates out for the food. You looked around your bathroom as you soaked in the tub. Briefly you wondered how much stuff Bradley had that he would bring with him if he moved in. He probably wouldn't even want to move in here. It was further from the naval base than his apartment was, and he was used to having his own space. He'd never know a moment of peace again with you and Everett all over him all the time. 

When you heard your doorbell, you took your time getting out of the tub. Your eyes were burning from crying so much, but you were feeling a lot better now. You were planning on contacting the lawyer this week. Molly had apparently been doing research on the best ones in San Diego for years, and she had given you a list. 

But first you had to have a conversation with Everett about Danny. And perhaps that's what you were dreading more than anything else. Your son was going to grow up knowing that his father did not want him. Your lovable, amazing, sweet, perfect child.

Before you could start crying again, you dried off and changed into some soft lounge pants and a tee shirt. Then you went downstairs to find Bradley opening the pizza box, and he welcomed you right into his arms. 

"I opened a beer. Wasn't sure if you wanted one," he murmured against your hair. You took a sip of his before getting yourself some water, and then you ended up curled up on the couch with Bradley and some slices of pizza. 

"How did Ev do at practice earlier?" you asked, sad you had missed it to go deal with Danny instead. 

"He's really very good, Kitten. And he's just going to keep getting better, because he loves the game."

Your heart swelled with happiness. "He keeps talking about practicing with you all summer."

Bradley finished chewing his pizza crust before he said, "About that. You'll have to let me know which days work for you once he's out of school for break. I need to teach him all about the different positions, and I can't wait. I'm probably more excited than he is."

You smiled at him. This was the kind of interaction that Everett deserved. Bradley was completely right: Danny wasn't worth your time or effort. 

"You look like you're feeling a lot better," Bradley told you, kissing your cheek. 

"I am," you promised. "I'm just trying my best to process everything."

You set the plates aside on the table and straddled Bradley's lap. He didn't say anything, rather he just rubbed your thighs with his big, warm hands, waiting for you to say what you needed to. 

You focused on the sincerity in his brown eyes as you said, "I know this is for the best. I know that Danny was never really a father to begin with, even when we were married. But part of me has always felt like I'm letting Ev down by it just being the two of us. Especially when Danny just lives across town. My child deserves everything. The entire world. And I guess in my head I thought that meant a dad who wants to be involved."

Bradley's eyes settled on the abrasion on your neck where your necklace should have been. "Yeah, but Kitten... isn't it better to just have a mom who loves him more than life itself? He doesn't need a dad like Danny. Everett is so smart, he knows Danny is a dick. He can tell."

You could feel your eyes welling up with fresh tears. "I never should have made him go over there," you whispered. "He didn't deserve that."

"Everett deserves you. And he knows how much you love him."

You nodded and kissed Bradley before your tears could fall. This was the first time you had ever been in love. You'd been married for several years, and you could say with certainty that you'd never been in love before this. Before Bradley. "You make us both happy, Coach. You know that?"

He kissed your lips, and the prickle of his mustache had you smiling like it always did. "I don't deserve you. You're too perfect," he whispered. You kissed him softly, and he didn't rush anything, but when you guided his hands up inside your baggy tee shirt, he slid them along your sides. 

Bradley pulled you even closer, and you reveled in the feel of his rough hands all over your skin. When he brought his right hand around to stroke your breasts with his knuckles, your eyes drifted closed. 

"I love you, Kitten. I love everything about you. Let me take you upstairs? Show you how you deserve to be loved?" 

You nodded and mumbled, "Yes," and Bradley had you in his arms. He carried you upstairs and gently set you down in bed. When he climbed in next to you, he ran his fingers along your arm and kissed your nose.

"You keep saying Ev deserves everything. But you do, too." His hand was warm on your skin as he rubbed your side and pulled you closer to him. "I don't know if I'm good enough for you, but I'm yours."

Then you rolled onto your back and pulled him on top of you with a smile. "You're more than good enough." You arched your back off the bed so Bradley could pull your shirt off, but when you reached for his, he held your hands above your head. 

"Just let me," he whispered, his mustache brushing along your neck as he spoke. So you kept your hands on your pillow and let him touch and kiss you. Everywhere. It felt like hours or maybe days. His lips and mouth and rough hands. He was in no hurry when he finally reached for the drawstring of your lounge pants. 

"Bradley." His brown eyes met yours as he kissed your bent knee and removed every last bit of your clothing. When you reached for him, he came willingly, and you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed him. 

"I love you, Kitten." And with one more press of his lips to yours, he eased his muscular body back down so he was kissing you just below your belly button. You sighed softly and let him spread your legs wide so he could taste you. And you just let him take care of you. Because he was so good at it. 

When you came on his face with one foot pressed to his shoulder and one leg wrapped around his back, he smiled up at you. "I'll do it again."

Your moans filled your bedroom, and after he got you off twice, you couldn't stop smiling. "Come here," you demanded softly, needing to taste yourself on his lips. 

It took some coaxing as Bradley told you, "I just wanted to make you feel good," but eventually you got his jeans and underwear off. 

"This is definitely going to make me feel good," you promised, and then you took care of him, too. 

You were on the verge of falling asleep, draped across his body. All your tears from earlier over Danny and on Everett's behalf had exhausted you. But when Bradley offered to go pick Everett up from Molly's house if it would make you feel better to have him at home, you opened your eyes. 

"No," you whispered. "I need to think about how I'm going to tell him that his dad is going to be completely out of his life soon. And maybe he'll be okay with that right now, but he's going to have to deal with knowing that forever." Bradley nodded and kissed your forehead as you added, "Plus Molly lets him do whatever he wants, so he'd be mad if I had him come home now."

He held you close and asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes."

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

You were dreading picking up Everett from school on Tuesday. You had made a decision about how you wanted to broach the topic of Danny, but you would have rather done anything else instead. The only thing that sent you running for the elevator at the end of the day was Frank headed in your direction. You pretended like you didn't see him, and then you dashed through the lobby and out to your car. 

As soon as you picked Everett up, he was rambling on about school and tee ball and his coaches and his upcoming birthday. "Do you think Aunt Molly got us good tickets? She won't tell me where we are sitting. Only that Coach Bob is coming too."

You smiled at him in the rear view mirror. "I'm sure she got the best seats, Ev."

"Like where we sat with Coach Bradley?"

But as you pulled into your driveway, you cleared your throat. "Ev, we really need to talk about something else, okay?"

"Okay," he said before unbuckling and heading for the front door ahead of you. As soon as he was inside, he was searching the kitchen for a snack, but you didn't want to lose your momentum. 

"Ev, sweetie, it's about your dad."

You watched your son pause in front of the open refrigerator and turn to look at you. His eyes were wide with concern. "Didn't Coach Bradley talk to you? I don't want to go back there."

"Ev," you whispered, closing the refrigerator and pulling him in for a hug.

But he was immediately hysterical. "Please! Mommy, I hate it there!"

"Ev, you don't have to go." 

"Promise?"

You knelt down on the floor in front of him and nodded. "How would you feel if I told you that you didn't have to see your dad anymore?"

Your son's open expression of hope had your heart clenching painfully. "Good. I don't want to see him."

But that was the response from a first grader. You knew that someday you would have to explain to a much older child or maybe even an adult where things had gone wrong. But you weren't even sure if you could do that. Because you still couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that this perfect kid's dad didn't want him around. 

"You won't have to see him anymore," you whispered, hugging him to your chest. 

He hugged you back, his small but strong body warm against you. "That's good, because we can do more stuff together or with Aunt Molly. Or with Coach Bradley." And then he was back to digging in the refrigerator for a snack. 

Your sister had promised you a million times in the past day that she would always be around to help you with anything you needed. She promised she would be around for Everett. She promised you that Danny should be the least of your concerns right now. So you wrote out a check for the lawyer you found on Molly's list.

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

Bradley got a text from you on Wednesday morning at work asking if you wanted to get pizza with everyone tomorrow night after the final tee ball practice of the season. He had already been planning on spending that entire evening with you and Everett, but if you wanted to get pizza, that was fine with him.

"Nat. Pizza tomorrow night?" he asked as he zipped up his flight suit. 

"With your little family?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," he replied smoothly. "And Bob's."

"Huh?" Bob asked, looking up from his newspaper and cup of coffee.

Nat's laughter echoed through the hangar before she said, "Bob, your future sister-in-law and nephew want to know if you're available to get pizza for dinner tomorrow."

"Oh," he said, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'm not sure what Molly's schedule is like, but I'll go." But Bob was now blushing profusely, and Bradley knew that Nat was going to jump all over him for it.

"What's on your mind, Bob?" she asked sweetly. "You look a little pink."

"N-No," he stammered. "It's just that... well, Molly is going to try to switch to mostly daytime shifts eventually."

"Then why are you blushing?" Nat demanded, smacking him lightly on the cheek.

Bob tried to adjust his glasses and actually made them more crooked. "It's. Well. I asked her to move in with me."

Nat screamed at the same time Bradley said, "Good for you, Bob."

"She said she would," Bob whispered, smiling as Nat made him slosh his coffee onto his hand. 

And when the three of them got called to the tarmac, Bob was still smiling and still blushing. And Bradley was thinking that perhaps all the things he wanted to do with you could actually be done as well. Maybe moving quickly wasn't a bad thing when you knew you were in love.

As soon as he landed and headed out for the day, Bradley drove to a jeweler who told him that he'd be able to fix your paw print necklace and chain. While he waited for the repairs and engraving to be completed, his eyes caught on a case of diamond engagement rings.  

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

Buy it, Coach! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 22

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Dating Wayne Headcanons

☆.｡.:*

warnings : violence, physical violence ((not towards reader)), protective wayne, blood, mentions of weapons like knives and guns, mentions of an abusive ex, cursing, sex mentions but nothing explicit.

pairing : fem!reader x wayne mccullough

authors note : STREAM WAYNE ON AMAZON PRIME PLEASE I LOVE THIS EMO BAD BOY WITH MY ENTIRE HEART!!!!!!!

☆.｡.:*

- It really wasn't supposed to go further than a few dates, but after he took you to multiple run down diners and nights spent in vacant parking lots on the curbs with strawberry and vanilla milkshakes, you started developing feelings towards him. Genuine ones.

♡ Before you met him, Wayne had never kissed anyone. You're his first girlfriend so he’s kinda lost when it comes to anything intimate. All he really knows is he wants to be around you constantly and wants to protect you, and that you tend to look cute 10/10 times without fail. Before you came along, no girl would ever think once about getting with Wayne, so he’s also kinda caught off guard when you awkwardly slide your hand into his.

“What are you doing?” He instinctively retracts his hand out of unfamiliarity.

“Holding your hand?” You say.

“What is this — a boyfriend girlfriend thing or a Y/n thing?”

“Both??”

Eventually, he gets the hang of it and really enjoys holding your hand to the point where he forgets that sometimes you're attached to him and will swing his arm inhumanly strong, causing you to practically fly into the air.

With kissing too, he quickly grows fond of the feeling. Once he’s hooked, he can never go back. Even if it’s when you two are hanging out doing nothing, Wayne sneaks a few kisses here and there but it always ends in a full blown make out session to fulfill his attention needs.

♡ Without fail, when Wayne gets in fights, you're there to clean his wounds. Since he doesn't care until you start to worry, you've become accustomed to bringing a few band-aids and alcohol wipes at least on you wherever you go.

“You don't have to do this shit, Y/n.”

You wrap his knuckles with bandages , “Just stay still, ok? I have to clean your face next.”

((He secretly likes it a lot, keep doing it.))

♡ When it comes to showing affection in private, he prefers kissing your lips more than anything; pressing soft kisses against the corners of your mouth, working his way to the middle of your lips like it’s a reward. He also really loves touching the back of your neck and feeling all the wispy baby hairs that hug your skin.

♡ Wayne’s big on physical touch, so much so that if you ever don't give him his daily dose of hugs he gets visibly sluggish, upset, and less tolerant of everybody’s bullshit. In fact if he sees you with someone else touching their arm or hugging them goodbye before you give him a big ol’ smoochie, he’ll walk over and get it himself.

♡ Speaking of jealousy, there’s no way this boy isn't a jealous person. Especially when it comes to you, his literal saving grace, his girlfriend, he sees everyone as a threat. Classmates at school, club members in your after school club, your guy friends, and random people on the street; no one escapes Wayne without getting a death stare or three. If they try anything though, that’s when all hell breaks loose, as well as someones arm.

♡ He’s not an outwardly jealous person though; he won’t throw tantrums and explode on you if he feels insecure about your relationship with a guy. Instead, If Wayne sees a guy flirting with you, he just automatically assumes he doesn't know his place in your life. So without of making a scene, he’ll walk up to you and smugly wrap an arm around your shoulder and stare bullets into the guy before you give him the time of day and pay attention to him.

“Yeah, Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh, nothin’. Who’s this?”

He tries to act intimidating in social settings, but he doesn't have to try hard at all. If anything he’s more of a silent jealous type where he just observes the person and analyzes them completely before knocking their teeth out.

♡ If you show ANY ounce of fear around someone, especially someone doing business with Wayne, his eyes harden and he changes into a human weapon complete with a totally non-lethal bat with nails hammered into it!! He has aimbot.

♡ Even if he is A Wayne, he’s still A guy and is pretty awkward with certain things. Dude will smash a guy’s head out any given time of day on command but gets nervous when he has to buy you pads or tampons because there's just so many of them. Occasionally, he subconsciously cracks a few dirty jokes in between his sentences in hopes he’ll impress you, basically saying ‘hey I  can be funny too, I’m not totally spooky.’ but regardless, you laugh at his jokes which makes him really happy.

♡ Wayne is also like, painfully sweet. He’s trying his best, since it’s all new to him, and you can see that.

“I got you these.” He holds up a small flower bouquet.

“Wayne, these are daisy weeds, fleabane, and white clovers wrapped in wrinkled caution tape. I think there’s a dead bee on this one here.” You stare at the mixture of weeds in his hands.

“Do you like them? I can get you more if you want.”

♡ There’s not a single moment of his day where thinking of you doesn't cross his mind. Wayne will smile, completely smitten with your eyes, your hair and your body. Remember when I said he’s a Wayne but he’s also a guy? Yeah. When he’s not deathly injured or when the two of you aren't running from someone with a gun, free time is spent in the back of a car or on your bed in a heated make out moment.

♡ During sex, his hands are ALL over your body. Mostly your hips and thighs, but he’d be lying if he said he didn't like touching your boobs too.

♡ He has a tendency to ‘accidentally’ leave articles of clothing in your possession in hopes of seeing you wear his shirt or his flannel or his denim jacket throughout the week. Sometimes you find half your closet just stuffed with random t-shirts that weren't there before only to find out they're all Wayne’s. 

♡ Wayne has this really cute habit of spinning you around like you're dancing even if there's no music playing and out of the blue. He thinks that the way your hair sways when you spin is just really pretty and he can’t help but say it too.

“Why do you always spin me around?” You chuckle and rest your arms over his shoulders.

“I just think you look really pretty today.” He grins ear to ear.

“How come you say that every day then?

He shrugs, “How can you be so pretty every day, Y/n?”

Say It to My Face

Dean and the reader confess their feelings for each other as she’s dying, but when she wakes up, he is perfectly fine with acting like it never happened.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: angst, elements of fluff, dean needs a hug fr, blood, mentions of death, canon-level violence

A/N: here is a little angsty flangsty hea one shot with our favorite angsty flangsty man dean winchester ! i’m not loving the ending but i also literally cannot get anything else out for the life of me and its kinda frustrating ALSO theres a little mention of jo because their story breaks my heart every time and i love her sm 

Masterlist 

You were bleeding out when it happened. It was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it, but you did, and the words shook every bone in your body to their core. 

It was a witch hunt gone wrong. From the start, it was a shit show. You had anticipated three witches only to find there were actually five. Sam had managed to kill one right off the bat, catching her off guard. But in retaliation, Sam was the first to be knocked out— hit with a spell, crumpling onto the floor in an unconscious slump. 

You shot the one that had thrown Sam with a witch-killing bullet straight into her throat, but you were pulled into a tight headlock from behind. Your gun was knocked out of your hand, and you watched it spin across the floor. As black dots began to spot your vision, you kicked the witch in her knee, hearing the pop! of her kneecap and she let go of you as she stumbled back in pain. You fell to your knees, gasping for breath, and scrambled to your gun, barely grasping the hilt before you were thrown into a mirror. It shattered upon impact and large shards fell to the floor, leaving you suspended in the air. 

“You’re going to pay for that, bitch,” the blonde growled, as she limped toward you. She picked up a pointed shard from below you. You desperately looked for Dean— your heart sinking when you realized his fight against the other two witches had moved into the next room. Sounds of punches being thrown and the occasional gunshot filtering throughout the large house.

“I’ll kill you and that giant over there,” she said, gesturing towards Sam’s body. “But don’t worry, I’ll leave your little boy toy alive. He’ll be delicious entertainment.” She laughed as she traced the curve of your face with the sharp edge. 

“He’ll kill you,” you promised. “He’ll kill all of you.” Your voice was strained as you struggled against her magic’s powerful grip. 

“I’d like to see him try,” she snarled, moving to plunge the glass into you. At that moment, a single gunshot rang out, and the witch looked shocked as you watched the light fade from her eyes. You felt the magic release, and you fell from the wall. Dean stood in the doorway, holding the still-smoking gun. He swiped at the large gash on his forehead, soaking his sleeve with blood. 

“Took you long enough,” you teased, giving Dean a small grin. “Let’s go wake up Sammy.”

You pushed on your hands to stand, but stopped at the sight of Dean. He was rooted in his spot as he stared at you— or rather, your stomach— in horror. Your smile fell from your lips as you slowly tipped your head down, following his line of sight. The wind was knocked from your lungs as you stared at the large piece of glass protruding from your stomach, blood already seeping through your clothes. 

“Oh,” you whispered, in shock. Your hands brushed the tender spot, covering your fingertips in the warm blood steadily leaving your body. As the last of your adrenaline left your body, you became hyperaware of the searing pain in your stomach, causing you to slump back onto the floor. Your movement seemed to have broken Dean from his initial shock, and he rushed over to your side. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his eyes darting frantically between your wound and your face. You were beginning to get lightheaded from the blood loss, feeling yourself growing weaker each second. You began to fall on your side as you lost the strength to keep yourself upright. 

“Woah there, Y/N,” Dean said, catching you before you could hit the ground. “I’m gonna have to prop you up, okay sweetheart? This might hurt just a little,” he warned before gently bringing your body upright. You groaned as the movement shifted the skin around your wound. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he kept whispering. He quickly took off his jacket, wrapping it into a ball. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut as he applied pressure, only opening them once the pain stopped spiking and was reduced to a constant throbbing. His eyes were lost, and you knew he was unsure of what he should do.

While Cas would normally have been the best bet in this type of situation, the angel was currently powerless, going under an alias of Steve who worked at a Gas-n-Sip in Idaho. 

The only angel that could help was Ezekiel, but Dean had no way of reaching out without alerting Sam. Dean had once tried praying to see if he could communicate with Ezekiel, but it hadn’t worked.

Dean could move you to the car, but that meant dragging Sam to the car too, and you knew that despite how strong Dean was, he didn’t have the strength to carry an unconscious 6’4 man.

Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, Dean decided to do assess the situation rationally, endless possible solutions running through his head as he removed his blood-soaked jacket and gently cut away at the bottom of your shirt to inspect your injury better. Your head pounded from the pain, and your breaths were shallow. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s head move as he began to stir.

“De,” you whispered, “Look.” He stopped the poking and prodding and followed your line of sight to where his brother was slowly rising to his feet. Sam’s eyes swept the room, taking in the dead bodies and shattered glass. They widened in shock at the sight of you bleeding out in the corner. 

“What happened?” Sam asked, quickly making his way towards you. 

“No time, we gotta take her to the hospital,” Dean said, relieved Sam was awake to help. He had no doubt his brainy brother would come up with something. Dean tried to get his arms positioned to scoop you up, but you flinched at the slightest movement, feeling the glass shifting. 

“Dean,” you gasped, as another stab of pain shot through your body. He froze, taking in the pain etched on your face and the tears in your eyes. 

“Sweetheart we gotta move you,” he said, knowing this was the only way you could be saved. 

“Dude, she’s not going anywhere. Moving her will just make it worse,” Sam reasoned, and you saw anger flare in Dean’s eyes. 

“We’re not leaving her here Sam. This isn’t happening again. I won’t let her die this time.” Desperation clung to his voice, and you knew he was thinking about that hardware store four years ago. When Jo had thrown herself to the hellhounds to save Dean. When she had been severely injured just like you. When she sacrificed her and Ellen’s lives to buy the brothers more time. Sam’s eyes were glassy as he also thought about that night. He shook his head.

“No one is dying today. Keep pressure on it. We’re surrounded by powerful spell books and ingredients, we have a whole library on speed dial— I’ll put Kevin on the search for a spell or something. He’ll be happy to have new reading material,” Sam said, leaving no room for argument. He pulled out his phone as he raced up the stairs in search of a spell book, leaving you and Dean alone on the floor.

The blood loss left you cold and clammy, not even Dean’s warmth helped at this point. You knew you were going to pass out soon— it was a miracle it didn’t happen sooner. Dean was staring at your wound with worry in his eyes. 

Your heart hurt at the realization that this would probably be the last time you would ever feel his touch. You had harbored feelings for the hunter for so long, but never acted on them, and now you had run out of time. As much as it hurt you to tell him, you knew that it had to be done.

“De, look at me,” you whispered. He shook his head in defiance when he saw the sadness in your eyes. 

“No, Y/N. No chick flick moments,” he said sternly, and you smiled at him sadly as a tear escaped your eyes. 

“Dean, I’m not going to make it.” He cupped your face and wiped his thumb across your cheek. His eyes were shiny with tears.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that. I can’t lose you. Sam and Kevin are gonna find something. You just gotta hold on, okay?” He insisted, and you sniffed as more tears fell. 

“I just… I—,” you sighed, not being able to find the right words. But fuck it. It hurt to breathe. You were fading fast. You stared into his deep green eyes that were clouded with anguish.

This is the only time you’ll be able to do it, so just say it.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. You watched the words hit him. His eyes widened a fraction and the corner of his mouth twitched, but then his face fell.

“You can’t just say that and then leave me here.” He blinked back tears.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, as black dots began to spot your vision. Dean could see you slipping away, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He pulled you close despite the blood staining his clothes, and you were so far gone you barely felt any pain. It was quiet— just a breath of a whisper— but you caught it as your vision and the rest of the world faded from your mind. 

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

The first thing you noticed when you came to was the familiar smell of your room in the bunker. Your eyes were still closed, but you could tell it was dark. Your soft sheets rubbed against your fingertips and if you strained your ears, you could hear the quiet hum of the bunker’s generator.

A bit confused as to why you were in your bed at the bunker rather than a hospital, your eyes fluttered open when you realized you were no longer in any pain. Your hand automatically went to your stomach, pulling up the bottom of the old t-shirt you assumed one of the boys had changed you into. There was no wound, no stitches, not even a scar. It was like your injury had never even happened. 

With a slight frown, you slowly got out of bed, flicking on your bedside lamp. There was no sign of soreness or fatigue as you rose to your feet. If it wasn’t for the dirty hunting duffle next to your bed, you could’ve been convinced that you had dreamed the whole thing. 

Determined to find answers, you stepped into the hallway, listening for any indication of where everyone was. When it was all quiet, you turned left, figuring the best place to start would be the library. Even if the boys weren’t there, Kevin definitely would be. 

True to form, there was Kevin, hunched over the table as he frantically scribbled away. He was surrounded by books of varying sizes and as you got closer, you realized half of the texts weren’t even in English. In the center of the organized chaos sat the Angel Tablet in all its glory. 

“Hey Kev,” you said softly, not wanting to startle the young prophet. It may have been too soft though, as he had continued writing symbols without any indication to your presence. You stepped closer to the boy, realizing why he wasn’t responding when you heard the faint sound of heavy metal. 

“Kevin,” you said, placing your hand on his shoulder. He jumped, turning to face you quickly as he pulled earphones out. His face morphed into surprise when he saw you. The drums were louder now, but he quickly turned the music off using the iPod stashed next to him. 

“Y/N! You’re up,” he said, excited.

“Yup,” you nodded with a faint smile. “How’re you doing?”

The boy shrugged, gesturing to the numerous books and papers around him.

“How does it look like I’m doing?” You studied his face, taking in his tired eyes and dark bags.

“When was the last time you slept?” You asked, concerned. He shrugged again. 

“Dean got me a twelve pack of RedBull on Thursday, and I’ve been drinking that since then, and today is Saturday, so…” He was quiet as he calculated in his head. “Forty-one hours give or take.” Your jaw dropped.

“That explains the heavy metal,” you muttered to yourself, before focusing back on the boy.

“Kevin that’s not healthy at all. You should go take a nap or something.” You made a mental note to yell at Dean about this. He can’t just keep pumping Kevin like a machine. 

“No, I’m good, Y/N. Great, even,” Kevin reassured, “I’ve been getting so much work done— I should’ve been drinking RedBull to study for my SATs.” You gave him a look.

“I’ll take a nap once the caffeine wears off, I swear,” he compromised, and you sighed before agreeing, knowing there was no point in him trying to sleep while being hopped up on RedBull. 

“Do you know where Sam and Dean are?” You asked, still having seen no sign of either brother. Kevin nodded.

“Sam’s in his room and I think Dean is in the garage.” 

“Alright, thanks Kev.” You watched as he reinserted his earphones and covered his hand with yours before he could turn the music back on.

“I’m serious, though. Get some sleep.” He gave you a smile in agreement and started his music. You began to walk towards the garage, but looked back once more at Kevin, his pencil softly tapping in time with the music as his eyes skimmed the page before him. You shook your head in disbelief at the sheer amount of motivation he possessed before turning. You grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge before heading towards the garage. 

Baby’s hood was up while Dean tinkered away. His head was ducked and his back was towards you. He had one arm leaning on the edge of the car, and you shamelessly watched as his muscles rippled underneath his black t-shirt with every movement. The soft guitar strums of Stairway to Heaven echoed throughout the garage accompanied by Dean’s quiet hums. 

“Want a drink?” you offered, not knowing what else to say. Dean stood quickly, muttering a quiet “fuck” when his head hit the hood. He faced you, rubbing the top of his head, and his eyes skimmed your body. Satisfied that you were truly alright, he smirked at the beers in your hands. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart,” he teased. You shrugged.

“Forty hours of beauty sleep does that to a girl,” you joked, as he walked over. He grabbed the two beers from your hands, setting them down on the workbench next to you before engulfing you in a tight embrace. You breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne and laundry detergent mixed with a tinge of motor oil, burying your face into his chest. 

“I was really worried,” he admitted softly, the vibrations of his deep voice resonating through his body and into yours. You tilted your head back until your eyes locked with his beautiful green eyes and you smiled. 

“I’m okay now,” you reassured. 

“How’d you bring me back?” You asked, curious ever since you awoke. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Sammy found a healing spell, so we just laid some mojo on you and let you rest,” he explained plainly. You nodded— it was really quite simple. 

His gaze subtly dropped to your lips and your breath hitched. You tilted your face up and slightly leaned in. Your stomach dropped when he leaned away, filling you with hurt and confusion. He stepped out of your embrace, creating distance between the two of you before grabbing a beer and chugging half of the bottle’s contents. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried thinking of what you did wrong. He said he loved you, but he doesn’t want to kiss you? Maybe it was a pity thing? Should you bring it up? 

He had gone back to working on Baby, and you took that as a sign of dismissal. For a second, you contemplated leaving the garage and crying in your bed for a good hour or two— heaven knew that’s what you really wanted to do— but you were also angered by his callous reaction. 

Fuck it.

“Dean, I heard you say it back,” you said, an accusatory tone twinging your voice. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this, Y/N,” he said, sternly. You rolled your eyes.

“Why not?” You were annoyed now. “I almost died and yes, it’s on me for not telling you sooner but at least I’m willing to talk about it now.” He huffed before setting his tools down and turning towards you.

“We’re not doing this,” he insisted, causing frustrated tears to well in your eyes. 

“Fine. Good to know that the only time you remember your feelings for me is when I’m dying,” you spat, tear spilling down your cheeks, before adding, softer, “I just wanted us to have more time.” 

You turned away, moving towards the door when you felt a warm hand on your wrist. You spun around, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. Your defiant eyes met his hesitant ones. 

“I want us to have more time too, sweetheart,” he started, and you scoffed in disbelief.

“Clearly,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “That’s why you pushed me away instead of kissing me and won’t even talk about whatever it is between us— so we could have more time.” 

“I just don’t know if us being together is the best idea,” he stated and anger flared within you once more. 

“And why not?” You pressed. 

“Because everyone I care about dies, Y/N,” he said, quietly. “If we were together, it would be dangerous for you. I’ll put a target on your back, and especially with all of the angels roaming around, I couldn’t handle something happening to you because of me.” 

“Dean, that’s bullshit and you know it,” you argued.

“Is it?” He cut you off. “I’m the one who cast all those angels out of heaven. You think they’re happy being trapped on Earth? We don’t even have Cas on our side this time.” 

“You’re acting like you’re the only one who took part in casting out the angels, but you weren’t. Sammy and I were right alongside you,” you insisted. “And you ‘putting a target on my back’ is a load of crap. I’ve been hunting with you guys for over five years and I was hunting alone for six years before that. You don’t think monsters wanna gank me too?” 

His intense gaze faltered, but you continued your tirade.

“If you don’t wanna be with me, then just say that. But don’t make shit up as an excuse, trying to turn it so that it’s in my best interests,” you stated with finality. 

“I want to be with you, Y/N,” he whispered. “God, I want to be with you so bad it hurts.” His large hand enveloped yours, and his thumb traced comforting circles. 

“But I want you to be safe, and you’ll never be safe with me.”

“Dean, I’m a hunter. I’ll never be safe, period,” you reasoned. He groaned, resting his forehead against yours. 

“At least give us a chance,” you pleaded, knowing his resolve was close to crumbling. 

“Alright,” he whispered. Your heart raced as you leaned in, and this time, he leaned in too.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine @bluedragonflylady @cevans-winchester

One Day At A Time (Part 3/?)

Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: More angst, ngl I was listening to Daylight by David Kushner when writing so this got away from me a bit wasn't expecting it to get this dark...

T/W: Anxiety, panic disorder, grief, PTSD, gun violence, torture, murder, prisoner of war, war crimes

Summary: Hangman's POW fiancée attempts a prison break; Javy talks Jake into doing something he doesn't want to do.

Masterlist

Jake POV -

Coyote can talk anyone into anything.

He's somehow convinced everyone to book the day after the mission off work to go to your place, not wanting his best friend to spend another one of your birthdays isolating himself.

Jake pulls up into the driveway and grabs the barbecue supplies from the back of the car before dumping them on the side in the kitchen.

"Wow, when we said let's go to Hangman's I wasn't expecting this." Rooster says entering the house with Phoenix, Bob and Fanboy in tow. All of them blatantly ignore Jake's tear-stained face and glance around in awe at the house.

"I'm not being funny but how on earth have you financed this?" Phoenix questions making Jake laugh. He cannot express the relief that her teasing makes him feel after a morning full of unease.

"Phoenix you cannot ask that!" Rooster gasps giving her a horrified look.

"This place was unbelievably gross when we bought it, It literally makes my skin crawl thinking about our first viewing... It was up for sale so cheap I knew there must've been a reason, other than it being close to base." Jake smiles, "there's no way in hell I would've bought this without Y/N walking around declaring what we should do to it." He elaborates, not having the vision to have done any of the renovation alone.

"Jesus he has a pool!" Fanboy shouts from the other side of the room as the others rush to the window to scrutinise outside. When everyone arrives Jake gives them a quick tour around the house to avoid anyone snooping without his knowledge.

He leaves Bradley to man the barbecue and heads inside to grab a beer. In doing so he watches Phoenix and Bob verbally dissect the photographs on the mantle.

"God she was gorgeous." Phoenix points out to no one in particular, tone sounding impressed that Jake managed to land you.

"She really was." Jake sighs looking at the photo of you at your backseaters wedding, grinning ear to ear at whatever he was saying to you.

God I miss you

"How did you two meet?" Bob queries, stopping Jake before he can spiral into his thoughts.

"Flight school... I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking, she literally knocked me clean off my feet day one. We started arguing and I just thought shit this is the girl version of me." He smirks as he answers.

"God I can't imagine there being two of you out in the world. How would we cope?" Payback winks, making Jake roll his eyes in response.

"Do you usually celebrate her birthday?" Bob asks not really knowing who Hangman is as a person outside of work.

Jake instantly shakes his head. "No she fucking hates -" he starts to answer swiftly cutting himself off. He ignores the bolt of heartache that threatens to shatter him as he realises he needs to correct himself, "-hated her birthday... She never wanted to celebrate it so we always just did something together without anyone else. I don't know why Javy's arranged this." Jake lies not completely oblivious to Coyote's attempt to force him to find closure.

He can't even argue that it's misguided. It's been years and he still needs to correct himself to past tense when talking about you.

Every time he comes home he half expects you to walk through the door after him.

Jake would never say it aloud but every time he comes home, he feels like he's waiting. Permanently waiting for you to get home too.

"You miss her a lot?" Bob continues trying to get a read on him.

Jake nods. "Every single day. She's my first thought when I wake up in the morning, and the last one before I go to sleep."

"Still?" Javy's worried disbelief comes from the doorway.

"Yeah." Jake's lip quivers slightly as he continues to stare at the photograph in Phoenix's hands.

I thought that this would get easier as time goes on - everyone says that - but every day I miss her more than yesterday.

Jake tears his eyes away from your photo and necks the rest of his beer in silence. All he can think about is how he'd give anything to not feel like this anymore.

Unable to shake the torment, Hangman slips out of the living room and heads back outside to argue with Bradshaw.

*

Reader POV -

You're shoved forward by a warden, collapsing onto your knees in the threshold of an outbuilding you've never been in before. Tears well in your eyes from the sheer force that your knees hit the concrete. The tears don't have a chance to fall, as the man hoists you upright forcing you inside.

Anxiety surges in your chest as you look up. You're greeted by blood splattered walls that instantly confirm your thoughts about this building.

This is where they kill people who are no longer useful to them.

You look over at Ghost hoping he will give you a look to convey that he has some form of grand plan for leaving this place. His golden skin looks ashy with sickness, sweat beads on his forehead, and his face is contorted in trepidation.

He doesn't have a plan. Neither of you have a plan.

It feels like someone has sat on your chest with how rapidly short your breathing is becoming, your apprehension is blossoming with every passing second spent in this building.

I do not want to die here.

You silently beg your backseater to look at you, as if meeting his gaze will prompt you to have some form of epiphany. His shoulders are hunched, eyes glued to the floor inaudibly accepting his fate.

He's been trying to convince you that you'll get out every day since you got here, you've told yourself every day that's not possible. Seeing him resigned to this reality sends adrenaline pounding through your body, you're not dying here at least not without a fight.

As the herding stops, you scour the room as best you can without moving, eyes flickering between all of the red covered rooms as you search for anything at all that you might be able to grab to attack the wardens with.

Fuck, this is hopeless.

We're as good as dead.

The rooms are almost completely empty.

There is nothing, not one single thing, here that we can use as a weapon, you realise.

Your thoughts of giving up are abruptly halted the millisecond after they form, as you watch the warden on your left shift his right arm towards a gun strapped to his waist. He's the prick who pushed you.

Somehow through the endless cries of the people around you, you hear the unmistakeable sound of gun safetys being removed. The fallacy that you've created of this place having some vague sense of security or solidarity among prisoners is shattered when the first round of gunfire begins.

You feel your stomach start to churn as people try to shield behind others. The sequential bout of nausea that washes over you is unignorable.

Your whole body traitorously reacts to the commotion, your rigid tension melting away to a whole body tremor. You've never been in the situation where you feel your knees shake with genuine well-placed terror before.

You've got to pull your shit together y/n. You mentally slap yourself trying to fight your inner anxiety away, needing to think rationally to decide your next move.

Without debating the consequences, you shove the warden next to you into the wall behind him with all the strength you can muster. He's thrown off guard, obviously not expecting any resistance. After his minute stumble allows you to take his weapon, he straightens up hand instantly moving to become a vice on your arm. He twists your arm in an attempt to throw you off balance. You do not shift even an inch, feet firmly planted on the ground. You're so deep in your fight or flight response that you barely even feel the motion that you expected to floor you.

The wardens are so focused on obliterating prisoners that they don't recognise the screams of their own as out of the ordinary, so you continue resisting.

When all of the wardens are down, you allow yourself to properly glance around the prisoners in the room.

Everyone looks broken beyond repair, most of them are bleeding.

Even if you got everyone out, you're not sure who among you is strong enough to live with this.

Ghost looks like a shell of himself

Ignoring that thought, you turn your attention to him, "I want to go home" you state croakily, arms still shaking as you lower the gun.

"There's no way out of here." Ghost reiterates, agitation plaguing his voice. It took the two of you, four days of recon to figure that escape was not at all possible from where they keep normal prisoners.

"Listen to your boyfriend Miss America." One of the wardens chuckles from his place on the floor, momentarily pulling your focus to watch him hold pressure on the bullet wound on his leg.

"Then we die trying." You instruct your back seater, before opening up your invite to everyone else.

A fail looking man that you bumped into earlier, shoves a boy in your direction quickly saying something to him in a language you don't understand.

There are kids here? A shudder runs through your body at the thought of children being exposed to this. No one should be exposed to this, especially not little kids.

The man turns to face you, opening his mouth to say something when a bullet rings out. You grab the kid shielding his eyes before he can see his potential father figure drop to the floor.

A warden sniggers from the floor as you stand glued to the spot in horror and disbelief that anyone would be that insanely cruel.

"Go." Someone chokes out, moving to shield you.

*************************************************************

Part 2 for those who missed it

Part 4

A/N: I promise I'll listen to something happier and write some fluff soon

Sunday Interruptions

Fandom: A Good Day For It

Pairing: Norman Tyrus x female reader

Word count: 1,410

Warnings: Mentions of potential past abuse

Author's note: This started with the little opening scene and then branched off in an unexpected direction. Sort of just plopped in the middle of something established, but it was fun. As always, not beta-read.

Special shout out to the wonderful @slashingdisneypasta for being so encouraging.

The loud crash coming from the opposite end of the house had to be caused by Wayne and Dale. Hopefully, not breaking something. Again. You groaned, the sound muffled against both the pillow and warm arm beneath you. It was too early to be dealing with this shit. 

"Fuck, Norm. I thought you said you didn't want children." A bit of a childish statement in and of itself. The two were staying with you because they had nowhere else to go. At least not at the moment. Having them close made it easier for Norman and his brother as well. Hands for a job were never far.  But it was like having two children in the house. Dale worse than Wayne, but them together? A low snort came from behind you before the arm around your waist tightened. 

"No, I said I didn't want those children living with us. Never said anything about our own." Before you had a chance to respond, the door flew open, and Wayne was walking in without a care in the world. Sometimes, boundary was a foreign word and concept. Norman let out a sound that was quite literally almost a growl. "How many times do I have to tell you? You knock and wait for one of us to answer!" You thought that Wayne was just hoping to catch you two in the act or even you undressing at one point. For the laughs, nothing more. There was a certain level of respect there, given you did belong to Norman. At least in the eyes of the men. 

It took a second for you to catch the look that was plastered over his face. Far more serious than typical. Something was wrong. Lightly squeezing Norman’s wrist, it was an attempt to both soothe and make him pay closer attention. 

“What's wrong Wayne?” You spoke up first, shifting but remaining under the covers. 

“Need you both to get dressed and come see.” The tension that ran through Norman was palpable. 

“Get out. We'll be there in five.” Wayne went to say something before thinking better of it and nodding. He walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving the pit in your stomach grow.  “Shit…” The sentiment was shared, though you couldn't verbalize it right away. Slipping from the warmth and comfort of the bed, you instantly regretted the decision, but there was hardly anything to do for it with the risk of trouble hanging over your heads. Norman moved with the same sort of lack of desire but with a little urgency. The crash that you had heard could have been trouble. 

“You got the gun I gave you?” Immediately, you moved to the drawer of the dresser and pulled it out. “Good. Let's go.” 

The house was oddly quiet. Since Wayne and Dale had shown up, there was almost always some sort of constant buzz of noise. So much so that it had become a background staple, something you were used to, and now that it was missing, it sent an odd chill through you. 

“What's going on, Wayne?” Norman broached the situation first, making sure you hung back a bit. You knew what the boys did. You, yourself, weren't ever directly involved. It was safer that way. For you, and for them. 

The man in question gave a small jerk of his head, hands stuck in his pockets. It was an indication of where he needed to look. A soft huff came from Norman. Great. That was no answer. He moved off to look just around the corner. 

“Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed, hand smashing against the wall beside him. Well, that gave you a decent idea that whatever it was, you didn't want to see it. And that the crash hadn't been the fault of the boys. Wayne had shifted closer to you, hand coming out of a pocket to rest against your back. 

“Why don't you get some breakfast started?” The kitchen was in the opposite direction. Normally, you would have playfully bantered back, but now, you also understood the underlying words. The boys needed to talk in private. 

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

“Keep the gun close.” So much for not worrying and the both of you needing to see. Norman would give you a better idea of what you needed to worry about soon enough. Wayne wouldn't keep you in the dark for long either if his genuine concern over it was anything to go by. Giving one final nod, you moved off to begin the nearly mindless routine of getting breakfast ready. It was Sunday, after all. And while the boys were rowdy, Sunday breakfast was a staple they never missed. 

You had just gotten the bacon in the pan, batter mixed and ready to go for the pancakes, when Norman entered the kitchen. You could hear Wayne and Dale muttering to themselves just on the outskirts, though there was no way to fully make out what they were saying. Norman was quiet. Too quiet. You turned your attention from the pan after a second. 

“Wayne's gonna stay here with ya while me and Dale head out to take care of something.” There was a pause, but not one long enough for you to ask what was going on. “You keep the gun close and listen to what Wayne has to say if something happens, alright?” He closed the gap between you. Warm lips met your forehead. Eyes closed, you grasped his shirt for a moment. Keeping him in place, reassuring yourself. 

“What's going on, Norman?” A heaving sigh, reluctance. After another second of silence, he pulled a bloodied piece of paper from his pocket. Unsure what it was or what it could mean, your eyes were fixed on it. 

“Go on,” he urged gently. None of this was good but you did as he asked. The paper crinkled, feeling brittle under your fingers. Despite the still damp spots on it. You almost wished you hadn't asked as the writing on it became clear. Bile rose in your throat, that bitter acidic burn keeping you grounded in reality. 

“Is this real?” It took effort, but you were able to tear your gaze from the letter up to Norman. You weren't sure you could recall him looking this serious before. At least not in your presence. 

“Yeah, it's real. But it's nothing for you to worry about, okay? Dale and I are gonna handle it. Fucker won't be coming near you ever again. Told you that before and I meant it.” His hand came up to rest against your cheek, a gentle touch that was meant to be soothing. You had to trust that he could handle the situation. Otherwise… Well, it wasn't worth thinking about. The sense of safety that you had found here couldn't be compromised. You couldn't go back to that. “We'll be back in time for dinner.” This time, there was a more reassuring smile that came to his face and it ease the tangle of nerves that threatened to constrict your throat. 

“Okay.” 

“That's my girl.” Another kiss to your forehead before Norman was properly pressing his lips to yours. A silent reassurance. One you wholeheartedly believed. 

Well, that left you and Wayne for breakfast then, the realization coming as you watched Norman and Dale head out the back door off of the kitchen.  

“Come on, Wayne. Sit and eat.” Routine was necessary. It was something to cling to and find more even footing after the morning had flipped everything on its head. 

“Bacon and pancakes?” He was already stretching to get the plates. 

“It's Sunday morning, of course.” Wayne chuckled softly. You knew why Norman had chosen Wayne to stay behind. Sure, he and Dale could act like children. More often than not, they did. But Wayne was easily the smarter of the two, more calculating even if he didn't always seem it. You felt safer with him than you would have with Dale, who was the sharpest tool in the shed. Loyal and eager, but needed a whole hell of a lot of direction. 

“How ‘bout we get settled in the living room and watch that movie ya have been bugging us to watch?” The offer surprised you. 

“Ya sure?” He shrugged as his coffee was momentarily more important than the food on his plate. Okay, so maybe those two living with you and Norman wasn't as bad as it seemed. 

Stinky and pizzano headcanons go crazy

OH BOY! im about to post images so uh rest under the cut

(x) (x)

the dev art of/about these two is really fucking good i must say.

i have a strange web of headcanons about their meeting and how they interact and about 80% of the gist is that stinky was doomed the second that they said "yeah hes the noisette function" and through a series of interconnected "wouldnt it be funny"s i see them as a kind of quirky mostly-noncommital(*) relationship with an incredibly rocky start. (*youll see)

stinky, Or Phil, since this was the before times, was originally hired for short term contract work on occasional odd jobs for PTV; he wasnt that aware or particularly fond of the network so he became a sort of Pizzano Favourite on virture of talking to him like a normal fucking person. the stuff pizzano asks for is weird and usually incredibly dangerous, but its a chance for him to actually strut his engineering legs and not just fix broken down cars all day. it was during this era that the nickname landed because im 100% convinced that pizzano fucked up his last name day one and called him stinky and never stopped. he hates it.

as jobs turn more frequent, he starts making visits to the studio itself, to do handyman work and maintenance on his pre-existing creations and some other gaggles of props and vehicles (and lots and lots of firearms??) lying around PTV. they strike up a familiar enough racket that pizzano suddenly invites him to join his actual staff, huge benefits and huge salary on top of still getting commission pay (the legality of his pay arrangement is dubious but literally nobody higher-up says no to the pizzano because hes an entertainment juggernaut, and also A Big Man With A Gun). he probably should have said no to this job, but the zeroes beckon him.

new position places him a lot closer to pizzano on the daily, which definitely starts to grate on him. hes loud, obnoxious, changes on a dime, gets stuck in moods from mere minutes to whole weeks, seems allergic to actually getting any proper work done, and is generally kind of a nuisance. the pay is nice, but he cannot deny some days he wants to like. grab that blue motherfucker and chunk him across a room until he stops bouncing. he didnt sign up to be a glorified secretary for some pastry baron lunatic.

the problem is because hes around pizzano a lot more than other workers, and pizzano has more inherent trust in him, stinky gets to see. some weird shit? some concerning shit. like nobody else is freaked out by how often this guy throws up? he just smashes himself into walls for fun? he doesnt even have windows in his room, for gods sake, is nobody else worried about this? but its also none of his business to tell, so he doesnt. the pizzano drags him to restaurants and moving showings and private parties and occasionally, embarrassingly onto the dance floor at a wrap party while intoxicated (lets hope i ever finish that wip). maybe pizzano just isnt great at having friends, stinky wonders, maybe he just exclusively has frenemies or something.

on pizzanos end, this is where the * and the noisette bit kick in a little harder. my biggest "wouldnt it be funny" was just like. what if instead of having the noisette proxy swooning over a relatively unaffected but still loving noise proxy just like a carbon copy of pizza tower it was. The Other Way Around. pizzanos really fucking bad at flirting; he just sorta treats stinky ""the same as he would anyone else"" (hes definitely treating him a little better but he has that irritating pizzano charm) and expects him to pick up on it. hes not mad if stinky DOESNT pick up on it, but pizzano is sure he will eventually! stinky does something nice for him after a bad day and he has to go back to his room and bury his head in his pillow and kick his legs behind him like a schoolgirl.

if anything happens to actually kick off a relationship between the two its probably happening while theyre both drunk at a party or something and pizzano is babbling about how much he enjoys stinkys company and stinky is like .oO{ a bear is fine } and they make some mutual bad decisions that they have to wake up and reflect on but both of them are honestly pretty okay with it. pizzano definitely loves stinky more than stinky loves him At First, but they steadily keep growing into something more comfortable as time goes on. i think sugary spire probably happens a bit before this event, rationally.

thanks for reading my manifesto

7 and 8 for the band of brothers asks (if you're still doing them!) Can you believe I've had the show on my to watch list for YEARS and only watched it fully for the first time over the Dec 2021 - Jan 2022 winter break.. and I've since watched it multiple times. So happy to see a cozy fandom still thriving here !

omg yes I was just talking today about how wonderful it was to have this fandom thriving SO LONG after the original airing of the show!!

7. how did you first find out about the show

8. when did you first watch the show?

the answers to these questions go together! in the summer of 2004 I was a junior going into senior yr of high school. my cousin and I went on a high school study abroad trip to France and England through the college I eventually attended, end of June/beginning of July that yr. it was a ww2 history course. we spent a couple days on campus and then flew to paris, did some stuff there, took a bus to the Normandy coast for a few days, then a ferry to England and did some stuff in and around London, then flew back home.

while we were on campus we watched 'the longest day' and I really liked it! I asked the boys if there was anything like that but more recent and they said "well there's saving private ryan, but that one isn't as good as the HBO show band of brothers." I only retained the name of the movie UNTIL

on July 4 we were in Paris at the eiffel tower and there were these really old guys all dressed the same and the boys in our group were freaking out like they were looking at a bunch of movie stars. we began talking to them...

and learned their names - don malarkey and buck compton. real ww2 vets!! it was so neat. afterward, the starstruck boys asked us girls if we knew who we'd been talking to. we were like yeah, vets, and they said "NO YOU WERE TALKING TO EASY COMPANY OF THE SECOND BATTALION OF THE 506 PIR OF THE 101ST AIRBORNE" and when were were still like 'yeah... veterans.....' they said "no like, BAND OF BROTHERS."

so when we got home I used my fam's Hollywood video acct (unlimited rentals, one DVD at a time) to watch the show. first time I'd binged a TV show, ever, those days in July 2004. then it was like, holy shit we met malarkey and compton!!!!

so then after that I'd watch the marathons on spike TV around D-day anniversaries or memorial day weekend or whatever, but usually I'd fall asleep to the sound of machine guns and not really pay too much attention beyond "oh I met malarkey and compton." it wasn't until a random half-interested watch in 2018 when I happened to look up at the TV right when nix got dinged outside of nuenen and I sat up straight and said "WHAT HAVE WE HERE???" that I found a ship that obsessed me. (I had read fic before, EVEN THAT SHIP!! but in an abstract way of "I read fic for every media I consume because that's just what I do even if I don't ship anything it's just another medium to consume" [who else does this??]).

and then summer of 2020 I was just really desiring some good leadership in my life and started thoughtful re-watches where I gave a shit about what was actually going on in a broader sense, FINALLY read the ambrose book, and on like my second re-watch I sent Google a question

then posted this on my instastory like "wow gliders seem like a death trap" and my mom responded, "your grandmother's fiancé was a glider pilot, that is how he died during the war, that's all I know about him except oh his name was ray and he was from columbus, oh" and that kicked off a research jag which led to me learning literally all there is to know about 2nd lt. ray schott's military career and being named as his granddaughter (close enough) in the glider pilots memorial newsletter. there were no portraits of him online in uniform until I got a scanned copy of him from my aunt.

my grandmother lit a candle for him every year in his birthday, August 25, and the anniversary of the day he died, December 27 (1944, yes he was KIA at Bastogne resupplying the 101st). when I learned this in 2021 I began lighting a candle on those days in her place. she passed away in 2009. ray was the love of her life. she married my grandfather about a year after Ray was killed. she was an anti-war activist up until her death.

The Vampire Diaries, Ep. 1x10

The Turning Point

this is a somewhat boring name for an episode, but it gains some meaning when you do a quick peruse of air dates and learn that this is the last episode before the mid-season break! is what i would say if this were a normal american tv show, but i must instead say that this is the last episode before the first mid-season break because there are two.

we start this episode very excitingly! it's melissa mccill! i love melissa mccill! she's the best character in teen wolf! she has the best track record of episode mvp awards of any character! i wonder how many episodes she'll appear in because i think she's amazing! oh... she's dead.

then, damon makes a quip about trying out for the amazing race. to which i say, 'i would pay good money to see them do the amazing race.' unfortunately, this turn of events seems unlikely. anyway, the brothers are blocked from the amazing race by learning that there's another vampire in town. (which they know because my beloved melissa mccall has been killed.)

damon finds out where fucking newsboy is (by coercing caroline into helping) and then goes to confront him. luckily, he gets shot like ten times by wooden bullets! it was a very cathartic moment for me because i hate damon. i wrote 'hell yeah!' in my notes. with the exclamation point.

after damon and fucking newsboy's confrontation, we learn about the main plot of the episode: career day! this is a classic vampire situation! what's my line from season two of buffy is a wonderful two-parter! i'm so excited!

unfortunately, we are not delving into the true power of career day on a vampire show, but we do get to hear stefan talk about his past, where he's apparently earned many many degrees, in a variety of subjects. elena used to want to be a writer, but since hasn't felt the same since her mom died. to borrow a line from a different (better) vampire show, 'when i look into the future, all i see is you.' (buffy summers to angel, buffy the vampire slayer 2x12 bad eggs)

back at the school, fucking newsboy takes caroline home, proving that she is a vampire magnet. (obviously, he's just trying to get a rise out of her mother.) also, fuck face is back. we spend some time with the mayor for the first time and learn that the mayor is a piece of shit. this means that both fuck face's parents are horrible, and it makes me feel a bit bad for calling him fuck face. not bad enough to stop, obviously. then, it is heavily implied that fuck face is a werewolf. which would make me very excited. and also make me stop calling him fuck face.

then, elena has her best moment yet: 'you don't get to make that decision for me. if you walk away, it's for you, because i know what i want. stefan, i love you.' elena has stepped up to the plate. she's making a decision, finally! she is claiming her agency, sticking to her guns, taking a stand. i have been begging for this since the show began, and it's finally here. of course, the thing she is standing for is her right to date stefan, not literally anything else. but, beggars can't be choosers.

after elena's big moment, she goes into stefan's house with him, and it becomes clear that they are going to have sex. then, there's another what's my line scene! stefan starts to vamp out and turns away. elena pulls him back to her because she's not afraid of his vampire nature and she truly loves him. awwwww

after they have sex, elena finds the picture of katherine that has been sitting on stefan's table the entire time (because he's a creep.) she takes off the necklace (bad move) and runs out of the house to her car. then, she drives away until she runs into a dark figure on a country road and flips the car. then, she hangs there, watching as the figure's bones knit back together and it stands again. that's a vampire. hard cut.

before i'm done with this episode, i have to talk about ht (history teacher [alaric saltzmann]). he kills fucking newsboy, who doesn't recognize him, throwing confusion on my theory from last episode. fucking newsboy has clearly met his sire, who told him about the vampires in the vault. he wouldn't know that katherine's down there unless he heard from a vampire, right? but he didn't recognize ht. i am feeling very confused about this whole thing.

500 words a day: day 1

Prompt: All the plants in and around houses in your character’s town are dying even though all other foliage is left untouched. It started happening after the last meteor shower. Goal: 500 words Finished: 817 words

a/n: this is a weird prompt because foliage is technically a cluster of leaves?? They’re parts of plants?? Idk I just went with it.

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

"Well, that's weird," Nykki hummed. “They’re all dead inside.” She swiveled in her chair, looking toward the other end of the field lab, "I mean, have you found anything? I've got nothing."

Lucy, her forty-something co-worker, whom she affectionately called Lulu, frowned and looked up from her microscope, "Nothing. Nada. I guess you were wrong. There is a reason for this quarantine."

"Do you think?" Nykki looked past Lulu and out the opening of their lab tent. Outside, a swarm of people in hazmat suits marched by; she heard a helicopter overhead.

"Nyk," Lulu huffed, red in the face as she shook a beanstalk at her, "we're literally dealing with the living dead here."

"I suppose," She scratched her nose, "but—"

"But what?" Lulu hissed; her eyes widened, "God, what if this is contagious? What if it spreads to all the other plants everywhere? That would be the end of it! How would we survive?"

Nykki shrugged, "Astronaut food?"

"Be serious."

"I am!"

Lulu fixed her with a look, and Nykki fought the smile off her face. "Okay, fine," She relented. "Maybe I could take this a little more seriously, but come on, Lulu, jumping to conclusions much? This isn't a zombie show. It's real life."

"Exactly," Lulu shook the beanstalk at her again, "this is real life. If it affects plants, who's to say it won't affect humans? Other animals?" She paused again, her hand coming up to her throat in panic, "Why don't we have hazmat suits on? They didn't even give us masks! We should have brought our masks! We need to call the lab! O-or whoever's running this place. It's not safe!"

"Okay, calm down," Nykki tried to soothe her, "you're getting ahead of yourself. We're dealing with plants."

Lulu glared, hissing at her again, "Then what is all of this—" she gestured widely around, "—the government doesn't ship in two nobodies for nothing! When have they ever actually cared about safe agriculture? There are men in hazmat suits. Men with guns. We are in someone's backyard, but there are no civilians. You seriously can't think for a second this is normal, not dangerous stuff."  

Nykki sighed, returning to her samples, "I've got rent to pay, Lu."

"They're going to make us do something bad, you get that, right? It's going to be like all those other environmental disasters, where they pay off the specialists to say everything's all hunky-dory and then make us look like corrupt ones in the end when shit hits the fan. You're just fine with that? Being someone else's pawn?"

"Lucy," She snapped, swiveling back around, "it's not a fucking movie. And even if it was—" She jabbed her thumb into her chest, "—what the hell do you want me to do about it? I know just as much as you. You came too! You're a pawn, too!"

They glared at each other until Lucy looked away, deflating, "You're right. I'm sorry. I, uh, I—well, I'm just scared." There were tears in her eyes as she looked back over, "I mean, everything's dead, Nykki. There aren't even any birds."

Nykki chewed on the inside of her cheek. She picked up one of the dandelions she had taken a sample from and twirled it between her fingers. Its petals hadn't wilted, and its stalk wasn't limp. Visually, the dandelion was picture-perfect, but it smelt like sweet rot. A flower gone bad. If she peeled apart the stem, she'd find mold.

She had plucked the dandelion just fifteen minutes ago from right outside the lab tent.

"It’s none of the normal viruses or bacteria. Maybe it's the water," Nykki mused out loud. "Maybe the water went bad?"

Lulu snorted, "If the water went bad, the plants wouldn't look like this."

"Have you tested the water?" Nykki swiveled back to her samples, already knowing Lucy had not.

Lulu talked over her, "It's pretty damn convenient, don't you think, that meteor shower? I bet it's a cover-up."

"Uh-huh," She hummed absentmindedly, placing a drop of water on one of her slides and setting it under the microscope.

"The timelines match up," Lucy continued, "two weeks ago, there was a meteor shower—" she said 'meteor shower' like it was some joke, "—then the crops died, people went missing, and there are no birds. No. Birds." Her voice dropped into a stage whisper, "It's aliens, Nykki. They're trying to starve us out."  

"Aliens, right." She agreed, rolling her eyes. With Lucy, it was always aliens, and if it wasn't aliens, it was lizard people, or mole people, or the Mother Board, or whatever podcast conspiracy she had come across that day.

But Lucy was right in one regard; the meteor shower was pretty damn convenient. Nykki pushed the microscope away and sat back in her chair.

First, a meteor shower. Next, dead plants. Now, dead water.

RANTING. SORRY

God I love being poor.

The way I have lost all of my hope in getting out of here.

I literally have no chance unless a miracle happens. I've been REPEATEDLY shown that I'm not allowed to hope or look up to things because the second I do, that tiny little chance vanishes. No matter how small a thing it was.

I have no money. No job. No transportation. Not. A single. Walkable. Thing. Near me. Not even a gas station. I have no way to GET money. I don't have a computer nor can afford one.

We haven't gone grocery shopping for weeks. I'm going to be kicked off my insurance soon and have to HOPE my prescription is cheap (not that we can afford it anyway).

Apparently alcohol and a potential gun (there are 2 in the house already) is more important than a few extra meals or necessities. -not my decision but the people who make the money in the house

Literally all I want to do is be able to provide for myself and not have to fucking leech off others but I CANT. My original goal was to stay here until I saved up enough money to leave and/or get out of state (bc FUCK THE SOUTH). BUT there's actually no chance of that happening at this rate.

My only option (which is barely even on the table) is to possibly stay with a friend and their family and work at the ONE walkable job there is (that pays minimum wage and is a shitty fast food place) but even then it's nor guaranteed, and depending on the living situation, could easily fuck up my health further.

I'm. Stuck. Here. And while it's not the worst situation I could be in (I could quite possibly be homeless or living with narcissistic assholes again), I have no way out. It's not fun. I shouldn't have to be worrying if I'll HAVE FOOD NEXT WEEK

Granted I've been in worse situations but it's not like I want to keep living like this??? I'm just fucking leeching.

I can't even start a gofundme or some shit. For one: I'd feel guilty about it. Two: I know realistically no one would contribute (not anyone's fault or obligation but I'm just thinking logically) three: I'll get backlash over how my situation isn't that bad and people have it worse (okay tell that to me 3 years ago where 1 packet of Ramen a week was my only source for food and no one gave a shit)

I can't ask for help bc the few people that would be willing are in similar situations as me.

I LITERALLY only have coins when it comes to money. If I'm given anything (from my dad, who i will never ask more of because he does MORE than enough for me), it goes to my stupid fucking bank so it's not in the negatives.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Also not to mention my necessities or struggles are seen as lesser than everyone else's :)

Anyways. I'd be surprised if you even opened this.

Sorry.

I just have nowhere else to say this shit.

I’m only dreaming

Request from @poptartpoppyy: How about something With Natasha and an S/o who tends to fall asleep a lot and in random places.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader - Fluff with some hurt/comfort.

Thank you for the request! And sorry for the whiplash, I went from extreme fluff to sad times in a second. 

Natasha didn’t know what to make of it. One minute you would be paying attention, the next you’d drift off and sleep anywhere you were. Literally anywhere.

It couldn’t be a medical issue; you’d never be cleared to work as an Avenger if you were at risk of just dozing off in the middle of a mission.

The first time, it happened during planning. It was tedious, the only light in the room coming from a projector -there was a whole discussion between Tony and Cap about using one- and it was damn early. Without caring, you place your arms on the table and sleep through most of the session. Every eye is on you when the lights turn back on. “Y/N?” Steve says, his voice stern. He rarely got openly annoyed at anyone that wasn’t Stark. “Yeah, Cap?” you say, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. “Did you even hear anything we said?” To everyone’s shock, you repeat everything that happened in the room, word for word. “Well, don’t make a habit of napping during mission planning” Steve warns either way and you mock salute him. Your eyes meet Natasha’s, a smirk on her face. Blushing, you wink and then turn back to listen to the last part of the presentation. It wasn’t until later that you realised a post it was stuck to your forehead. Probably why Natasha was smiling all along. Well, shit. — Your first mission went spectacular, playing your part perfectly. Only after that, Steve went easier on you. To celebrate, the team wanted to play laser tag. Which was fine, you could handle that. The winner would pick the pizza toppings AND the movie. “Are we playing teams?” you ask, checking your vest. “Nu-uh. I’m taking all of you down” Natasha threatens and you chuckle. “We’ll see about that, Red” She nudges you with her elbow before walking away. Sam wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes. “Do not even start” you warn him. “I’ve got my eye on you, naughty girl” he says with a grin and you chuckle. Still, he’s the first one you take down. You’re in the perfect hiding spot, high enough that people don’t even notice you’re aiming from your fortress. As soon as Sam realises he’s out of the game, he turns to Bucky, who’s hiding around. “Man, I thought we had a deal!” Sam shouts and then shoots at Bucky. “Payback!” “You can’t kill me, you’re already out! And I didn’t even shoot you!” “Lies!” he insists, shooting at Bucky again. A second later, there’s a click and Bucky’s vest turns off too. “Better not argue so loudly next time” Clint warns. His presence makes you nervous, so you’re on guard for the next couple of minutes, though there’s nothing but silence. The action seems to be going on across the arena. Well, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t rest for a little while, right? You put one of your hands behind your head, and close your eyes. Victory will be yours soon. Natasha finds you after she’s eliminated everyone else. She keeps track of all her “victims”, surprised you weren’t in the middle of the battle. Your aim was impeccable, almost rivaling Clint’s. Of course you’d be asleep while she does all the hard work. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I really want pepperoni pizza” she mumbles and in that exact moment you break out laughing. “That was the most un-assassin thing you could have said, Natasha” you hold your sides. “Well, I thought you were asleep! That’s not fair” “I was” you say. “And also… kawabunga” without warning, you pull out your laser gun and shoot her. She gapes at you, her mouth hanging open. “You distracted me! I took down everyone else!” “Not everyone, I shot Sam and in a way Bucky” you point out, the lights finally back on. “They don’t even count” Natasha chases you, practically throwing a tantrum. “And kawabunga? That’s worse than what I said” “Who’s the winner?” Tony says, looking between the two of you. “Rookie?” he guesses when you smile. “Folks, we are watching Crazy, Stupid Love tonight” you announce triumphantly and everyone groans. “What about the pizza topping?” Tony asks, dialing the number for the parlor that delivers 24/7. “Pepperoni” you decide, even though bacon and beef is your favorite. Natasha’s expression softens at that. Everyone gathers around, arguing over their strategies and eating to their heart’s content. Natasha picks the spot next to you. “How’s the pizza?” you ask with a cheeky grin. “Shut up” is all she says as she takes another bite. The movie starts and you’re almost hyper. You nudge Natasha as you look between her and the screen, eager to know if she’ll like the film. You take it as a win when she smiles a couple of times. Except after the first thirty minutes, you’re completely out of it. “Tony” Sam says, leaning his head towards you. The man looks at you and sighs. “Oh, thank God” he says, changing the movie for Die Hard. No one dares to comment on how Natasha stays still, your head resting on her shoulder. — Fucking five in the fucking morning. That’s how early Captain Ass is knocking on your door. “If you wake up early, you’ll go to bed early” Grandpa says, still concerned over your sleeping habits. One of his powers must be being super annoying. Especially when he has you doing reps over and over. Or changing the settings on the treadmill to make you go faster, until your legs burn. You’ll kill him. When you take a minute to rest, you also press a button on your smart watch. “Captain Rogers, Agent Hill is requesting your presence in the briefing room” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says. He looks at you and then nods. “Take a break. I’ll be right back” “F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock all the gym doors” you say the second he’s gone. Once the AI confirms it’s done, you sigh and rest against one of the leg curl machines. It takes a couple of minutes for Steve to realise Maria never actually called him to the briefing room. By the time he gets back to the gym, all the doors are locked. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., I need access” he requests, but is met with silence. “All you have to do is pull the door, Gramps” Natasha mocks, behind him. She’s the only other person that wakes up this early to train. She lifts an eyebrow when she can’t open the door either. “Huh”, she comments, almost sounding bored as she pulls out her phone. “Y/N is supposed to be there training” “Looks to me like she’s sleeping” Natasha offers her phone to him, where she’s checking all the security cameras. Sure enough, you’re sound asleep. “I’m gonna get Tony” he grumbles. Natasha waits until he’s gone to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for access and she grants it immediately. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty” “Aww, you think I’m beautiful” you sigh, opening one eye and squinting at her. “Cap went to get Tony because he couldn’t get in” “That’s what he gets for waking me up at five am” “What about me?” “Programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to let you in” you yawn, adjusting your position to rest on your side and go back to sleep. “I know you like to train early” She smiles and then goes to warm up. 20 minutes later, a very disgruntled Tony walks in with Steve hot on his trail. “You” he points a finger at you. “This is highly advanced code” he shows the screen of his tablet. “Yes” you say, rubbing your eyes. “You did this to prevent him from getting into the gym” “Once again, yes” Tony rolls his eyes and shoves the tablet on Steve’s chest. “Do me a favor, Cap. Let her sleep. Then I can sleep too. We’ll review that code later. I might have a job for you” he says as he leaves the gym. “You really don’t like waking up early, huh?” “Nope, Cap. Never have, never will. Not even for America’s ass” Natasha snorts as she punches the bag in front of her. “Fine” he resigns, expecting you to leave to your room. “Too far. Too sleepy” you mumble and then go back to dreaming about sparring with Natasha until she’s topping you. — Natasha looks at the clock. It had been almost two hours since you went to the garage, telling her you’d take a look at her car. Your father was a mechanic and with all you knew about machines, it would probably take you thirty minutes to fix the issue. So you said. She sighs and decides it’s better to go and find you. It didn’t take long for her to spot you, half of your body on a dolly under her car. She doesn’t see your hands, so Natasha assumes you are still working. “Everything ok?” she asks. “Son of a bitch” you jolt awake, but you have little space to move and end up crashing your head against her car. “Ouch, that hurt” “I’m so sorry, I thought you were awake” she says, pulling the dolly from under the car until your face pops up. “Yeah, no. I was already done, just checking some wires and then I guess I dozed off” you explain, sitting up and placing a hand over your forehead. “Let me check” she asks, running her hand softly over the bump that is already forming. “Ouch” you say again, but you’re lost in the way her hand feels against yours. You’re so close and she looks so perfect, which is honestly nothing new. “We should get you some ice” she comments, still close and all you can see are her lips moving. “I need you to answer me or I’ll assume you have a concussion” “I’m fine” you roll your eyes and begin to stand up. Natasha is stubborn, her hand taking yours so she can keep you close as you walk to the kitchen. When she finally gets the ice, she forces you to sit on the couch and places it on your forehead. “Can I ask you something?” she says softly. You’re aware that she’s pressed against you. “Mhm” you encourage, enjoying her warmth. “Why are you always sleepy?” “Not always” “You slept standing up in the subway the other day. Last week, you missed your stop at the train and you got down two stops later” “Ok, ok, jeez” you chuckle. “Being sleepy makes me angry sometimes so it’s perfect for missions, don’t you think?” “Maybe” the redhead concedes, but you know she wants more. “I guess I never slept a lot at night. Since I was a teenager probably. Everything at home was chaos and I could only have peace and quiet when everyone was asleep. And then, back in the army… I don’t know, I began to dislike the quiet. It feel threatening, that we were in the middle of nowhere, everything was dark and we could be ambushed at any moment. I always slept until late trying to keep an eye on the team” you clear your throat and Natasha begins to play softly with your hair, a silent signal that she’s there. “That little habit payed off one time and we stopped an attack. But I guess it became a habit for me. Now, I like to go up the roof and look at the stars or just stay around and keep an eye on the Compound. And once dawn is coming and Steve will begin his lunatic training regime, I know someone else has eyes on the team and I can get some sleep” “You know there is a flawless security system and a team of skilled individuals here, right?” Natasha places her hand on yours, running her thumb across the back of yours. “Old habits die hard, I guess” you finally look at her. “Ask Bucky-I-sleep-on-the-floor-Barnes” “I’d like to go watch the stars with you sometime” she mutters. “Would that be alright?” “More than alright. Perfect, actually” your eyes meet and she might be leaning forward when Sam, of all people, walks in. “Damn, girl! You growing a second head” he comments about your bump. “Shut the fuck up, Sam” you answer right away and he snorts. “Hope your other head is nicer to me” “Ugh” you groan, deciding it’s best to ignore him. But Natasha stays by your side, still running her hands through your hair until you’re drifting off for a quick little nap. — There’s enough tension to keep you up. Maria walked in, without even preparing you for the news. Three potential nuclear attacks in a week. “We have to leave right now” Steve insists. “They already have the codes. If they get so much of a whiff of us, they’ll blow everything up” Natasha argues. “So, we’re supposed to do nothing?” Tony protests. “Yes” Maria says and then looks at you. “When do I leave?” It’s almost as if you told them all to eat shit. They begin screaming and protesting, but you ignore them and reach out for the report Maria holds in her hand. “You’ve got twenty minutes” you nod and are about to walk out when she speaks again. “If your cover is blown we can’t extract you. You’ll be on your own” “Ok” “I can’t believe Sleepy is being sent for such a big mission” “Don’t be an ass, Stark” Natasha growls at him. “She’s the only one that can keep a low profile. This isn’t up for discussion. Y/N accepted the mission” Maria reminds them all. “Hey” you look at Tony, not taking what he says at heart. “I promise you I’ll do my best. I’ll stop it” “I know. I’m sorry” You place your hand on his shoulder and look around the room. “Be good to each other while I’m gone” you ask and Sam looks like he’s about to cry. “Don’t go soft on me, Wilson” “You better come back” he warns you and you nod. “See ya” you say before leaving the room to pack everything you might need. Natasha is waiting outside of your room when you open the door. “Hey” she whispers, pushing you inside. “Nat, what are you…?” before you can say another word, her lips are on yours. It feels urgent and desperate. You moan against her mouth and she pulls you closer by your jacket. “Please be careful” she pleads, her eyes closed as she tries to even her breathing. “Nat” you say and she finally looks at you. “I’ll be ok” “Promise me” she asks and her voice almost breaks. “I swear” you say, kissing her softly. “Will there be more of these in my future if I come back in one piece?” “Guess you’ll have to find out” the redhead tries to joke. You kiss her hand and let it down gently at her side. It takes every ounce of your will to keep walking. All you want to do is go back to her. — You got the intel, but your cover was blown. As soon as you were sure the team got the information, you tried to hide your tracks and disappear. It wasn’t easy to move fast and discreetly with broken ribs and bruises all over your face. The team got the information, but no word on you. There was enough to discover two moles at S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been secretly working for a terrorist network. Natasha was relentless in her interrogation. But still, no sign from you. It could mean you were safe. Bad news traveled fast, so if something had happened to you, they’d surely know about it. Right? Natasha didn’t find any comfort in that logic, looking everywhere for even a hint of your moves. “There was a shooting in London” Clint informs her one morning. They go over all the security footage. “It has to be her. She’s alive” Clint tries to comfort his best friend. “They found her” Natasha snaps. “They’re right on her tracks and if they get to her…” “She’s in a safe house. They think she’s still in London but she made it to the countryside” Maria interrupts them. “She’ll be there for a couple of hours. Then, maybe we can bring her home” “I’m coordinating an extraction” Natasha says, rushing to the door. “We don’t know where she’ll show up next” Natasha looks at Clint for back up, but he agrees with Maria. “She’ll come around” the brunette says when Natasha storms off. “You better be right” Clint sighs. “I’ve never seen her like this” A couple of hours later, when they hear the safe house got blown up, he feels like throwing up. Natasha doesn’t even look at him, at any of them, as she walks out of the briefing room. She doesn’t leave your room for two days, waiting for any sign that you’re still alive. “Agent Romanoff, your presence is requested in the medbay” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts the silence one night. “Agent Y/L/N is back” “What?” she mutters, almost thinking she’s hallucinating. “Come on” Sam says, walking out of his room and meeting her in the hall. Maria is closing the door to your room in the medbay when the team shows up. “Well?” Steve is the first one to speak. “Broken ribs, cuts and bruises, a gunshot to the left shoulder” she gives them a summary. “She got some injuries on her back from the shrapnel” “Can we…?” Bucky asks and Maria shakes her head no. “She’s pretty shaken up. At the shelter… the explosion destroyed a couple of houses in the surrounding area. She was already out but the families didn’t survive” Everyone falls silent. “She’ll need time” Maria says. That’s not comforting for any of them. — You leave the medbay against medical advice on your third day, in the middle of the night. You don’t want to run into anyone and have to speak to them. Someone was in your room while you were gone. You can instantly tell, but you’re too tired to wonder if you should be upset at all. There was hope that maybe you missed your bed and that’s why it was so hard to sleep. But you’re here now, looking at the ceiling and you can’t just shut down your brain, even if you feel exhausted. The first few days you avoid everyone, only leaving your room at night to get some food. Sleeping pills are most definitely not a solution, especially when you wake up from a nightmare that reminds you ten people would be alive if you’d let those men kill you in London. Natasha is losing it. She doesn’t know how to make it better when you won’t even leave your room. “Looks like our ghost is back” Tony comments, pointing at the half empty box of Pop Tarts. Later that night, when everyone’s gone to bed, she decides to go out and watch the stars, if only to feel closer to you. Natasha instantly recognizes your shape, sitting on the grass and looking up. The moonlight glistens against the silent tears that roll down your cheeks. When you hear her approaching, you make an attempt to wipe your face, ashamed and tired of feeling like nothing will be ok again. “Don’t shut me out” she pleads, kneeling next to you, her hands on each side of your face. “I- I can’t stop thinking about them” your voice trembles, more tears clouding your vision and she lets you rest your head against her chest. “I’m right here” she promises, her fingers running through your hair. “I’m right here” That’s the first time you get some sleep in a week. No one dares to comment when they see you out on broad daylight the next morning. There are some curious glances as you walk towards the woods at the edge of the Compound. You climb one of the trees and rest on a branch that you’ve used more than once to take a nap. It doesn’t work, but the squirrels jumping around help to take your mind off of everything. A branch snaps on the ground and you’re ready to fight an intruder, but you only spot Natasha, throwing a couple of blankets on the floor. There’s also a box with your favorite doughnuts. “So good” Natasha comments out loud. “Fine. Only because I’m hungry” you announce, climbing down. “What were you even doing there?” “I’m going back to places where I used to sleep and see if I can find some inner peace” “That’s one way of dealing with it” “Got any better ideas?” “Have you thought about going to talk to Doctor Jones?” Natasha says, pretending to be casual about it. She’s clearly nervous, avoiding your eyes. “Do you really think I’d be so relunctant to go to therapy?” you smile for the first time in a very long time. You’ve never seen Natasha so nervous. “Well, none of us really follow that advice. But I want you to be ok” “I’m tired of feeling like crap. So yeah, I think I’m ready for that” “Good” Natasha nods. You place a strand of hair behind her ear and then take her hand, your lips touching the back of it softly. “Thank you” you whisper, placing her hand above your heart. And you’re not sure if it’s the best idea to give yourself to someone else when you’re so broken, but when Natasha’s lips are on yours, you feel like all the pieces are coming together, healing you bit by bit. — The nightmares eventually stop. But Natasha stays with you every night, happy that she can feel you pressed against her back. She’ll never forget how awful it was to think you were gone forever. One night, when you’re losing sleep for the best reason, worshipping every inch of her body and meeting emerald eyes that look at you with so much adoration, you understand that sometimes, reality is better than dreams. Taglist/

@gimaximoff, @nataliaromanova-widow

Before anything, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING FOR FO3. I know it isn’t the most popular game in the series but the npcs are still so lovable!!

If you wouldn’t mind could we have Gob and Butch with a buff fem s/o? Like they’re pretty modest about it but she’s ripped and thinks it’s fun to fight enemies hand to hand! Thank you again sm dude, ur the best!

Gob and Butch Headcannons with a Buff! F!Lone

Aww, thank you for reading! And I’m glad you enjoy the stuffs with FO3 peeps! And I agree completely! This game is so deeply rooted in my nostalgia that I often realize how it literally shaped certain aspects of my personality, and the characters are a huge part of that. I’m so glad there are still people out there who appreciate it the way I do! 😊

This was a cute prompt as well, so let me know if you wanna see anyone else and I can add them.

I hope you enjoy! <3

Butch:

He always avoided getting in fights with Lone in the vault after a particularly disturbing show of her physical prowess that resulted in Paul Hannon having to run to her father in tears, as blood streamed from his nose and his darkened cheek swelled over. The tunnel snake decided against pissing her off after that, and tried to refrain from messing with Amata as well. Butch didn’t like the way his friend’s nose bent unnaturally to the side now, and he decided he’d like to keep his own how it is.

Out in the wasteland, he frequently stays out of her way when they’re fighting enemies, sometimes even just sitting back with his gun under his arm and a cigarette in his hand as she beats the ever-loving shit out of some particularly feisty mole rats with her bare hands.

He's always sure to tell her how badass she is though. Even if he didn't help out in the fight, he wants her to know that he was there for her in the form of moral and emotional support. No one is a bigger fan of Lone than Butch, even if he does still give her a bit of a hard time occasionally. She knows he's just playing, after all, right?

When she steps away from another fight, her enemies dead at her feet, her blood splattered across her chest and knuckles, he can be heard clapping and complimenting her before the bodies on the ground even stop breathing. He's like the world's most devoted boxing coach, always there with a towel and a smile, hyping her up both before and after a fight, even messaging her tight shoulders and arms at the end of the day, if she's game.

It's no mystery, the way the tunnel snake feels about his fellow vault dweller. Whenever they're spending time just the two of them, he's more than affectionate. Sure, out in the wasteland he has to be aloof, cool, and unbothered, ready for anything and always looking to win a fight, but when it's just them two? He likes to scoot real close, running his hands over her muscular frame as he sits so damn near to her, he may as well be in her lap, littering her with hot, affectionate kisses, as she grins and blushes beside him. In public however, it's still painfully obvious that she and him are going steady. Butch isn't as outwardly tender, he's gotta keep up his reputation after all, but there's bound to be some hand holding, tender looks, and a few stolen kisses even out and about in the wastes, or when they're taking a rest in one of the bigger settlements. Anyone really has anything to say about his reputation, they'll have Lone to answer to. So, you know, their funeral.

It gets annoying, but Butch loves to sign Lone up for bar fights she didn’t start. He never has to watch his mouth! It’s great! Cuz if it gets out of hand, Lone can deck anyone who decides they want a piece of the tunnel snake and his companion. After the first few times this happens, Lone is sure to pay more attention to what her partner is saying to the folks around him, often dragging him away by the collar of his jacket as he spews profanity, just trying to avoid getting kicked out of another bar.

Butch feigns annoyance, but he really does like it when Lone leans against him as well, with her brawny arm draped over his shoulder, or when she manhandles him, picking him up to move him out of harm's way or to bring him closer to her. At first it made him a little self-conscious, but as he becomes more used to it, he finds comfort in her ability to protect him, even if he insists he doesn't need protecting, it's still nice. The wasteland is unforgiving, and as badass as Butch is, it certainly helps to have a partner like Lone watching his back.

Gob:

At first, the absolutely ripped woman strolling into Moriarty’s Saloon frightened the ghoul until his voice was shaking and his heart was beating in his throat. As he asked for her order, his eyes were downcast, and his hands were trembling as he tried to refrain from dropping the glass he was cleaning.

Once he realizes her intimidating muscles aren’t aimed at him, Gob just feels sorry for whoever does have to worry about them. Though, when Lone uses her physical prowess to help defend the ghoul from his hellish boss, he almost comes to revere her. Using her superior physicality for good? To help him? He's dumbfounded, but immeasurably grateful.

If she deals with the thugs, raiders and monsters of the Capital Wasteland whenever he does go out with her, Gob will make sure she’s taken care of in every other way. Food, water, and rest are all provided to her for as long as the pair spend time together. Of course, that's pretty much a given. After all she's done for him, he would be remiss not to give her anything she needs to be comfortable and happy. At least... as comfortable and happy as one can be while strolling around the Capital Wasteland.

Gob’s really as gentle as they come out here in the CW, and it really comes in handy having someone like Lone at his side. Even just her presence keeps some of the wasteland riff raff at bay. Though, on the other hand, Lone’s larger frame does sometimes garner the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of crowd, the ones who aren't scared away so easily, and particularly those in a bar setting. Gob isn’t the most outspoken of ghouls, but for her, he’ll speak up against anyone trying to insult, question, or otherwise just be generally rude to her. Of course, if they end up going after him, Lone will step in and take care of whoever tried to hurt him as he scampers out of the way of their flying fists, but it’s the thought behind his words that counts.

No matter what happens though, Gob will be there to fix her up afterwards. He's a big fan of massages, if she lets him give them. After a long day's work, or a tumble with some rough bar-goers or raiders and the like, he wants to be there to help her unwind, and he's tremendous at all of the little domestic things like cooking her a high-protein dinner, making sure the sheets are clean, and her body is rested for the next day of ass-kicking. Plus... oftentimes these massage sessions can end up turning into something even more intimate, which gives the affectionate ghoul yet another opportunity to show Sole how highly he thinks of her gloriously muscular body.

He’s just in awe of her, all of her. She’s everything he hasn’t been all this time. She's fierce and strong and sure of herself in a way that he can't help but respect, and even envy. Though, he's not bitter, now that he has her, the ghoul wants for nothing. He seems to have it all.

Mga ka-tropa {Childe,Tohma + Scaramouche}

Synopsis: What your everyday life looks like with your Barkada (Squad)

- Head canon, Fluff, School AU, Based off of my experience I guess lol (I don't have many friends I just watch my classmates--), Mentions of NSFW jokes

- Filipino Reader, Taglish swearing dialogues

____________________________________________________

- They're the worst, but also the best and ya'll just vibe

Childe

- The rich kid who insists on paying for the food you buy

- Every time in class, he'd tap on your shoulder from where he sat and act like he's paying attention to the teacher whenever you turn to glare at him. Gives subtle side glances and finds your pissed expression hilarious

- The type to place cold drinks against your cheek out of nowhere

"Yah!!? Gago, Ajax-- can you fucking stop!?" You hissed, earning a chuckle from the lad

"It's not that cold, ha-ha"

- You ignored him for the rest of the class which caused him to buy you one of your favorite snacks as he pleads for you to stop giving him the cold shoulder. He's still gonna do it again, but he won't mind buying more food for you (Win-win I suppose)

- His grades are fairly average, but still insists you tutor him. He'll drag Thoma in one of your study sessions to make you accept his request.

- You have a soft spot for Tohma and he takes advantage of it

- He calls you "Ate" as a joke, but it eventually became a natural thing for the both of you

"Ate, when's the deadline for the assignment that Ma'am gave us again?"

- Whether you're older than him or not, he has taken a liking to the Honorific

- You once fell asleep in class and was the only person inside the room, when he arrived, he immediately snapped a few pics of your drooling face before blasting "Never gonna give you up" from the Bluetooth speaker he owns

"D-did you just.. Fucking 'Rick roll' me awake..?"

"Yeah. Pretty hilarious in my opinion,"

- He has Tiktok and forces you all to join his shenanigans

- If he can't annoy you, then he'll annoy Scaramouche. You don't know how, but he got him to be accidentally sent to the elementary department's floor, which made a teacher think he's a 4th grade student.

- He got a lotta bumps in the head from the angry gremlin later on

Tohma

- The goodie two shoes friend and also the teacher's errand boy (next to Aether/Lumine)

- I feel like he has a collection of different bandana's/Headband's with all kinds of designs. He once got you a bear themed headband for your birthday

- Often gets in trouble with Childe (and the rest of you gets into trouble as well) so you all get to clean the classroom

- Kind of the mom friend but not really. Maybe it's the fact that he often notices small things about you and the others. Like the fact that he knows about your obsession with sweet/salty foods, The fact that he knows about Childe's soft spot for whales and that Scaramouche always puts aesthetic shades of eye shadow. He has fun with you all and always points out your small habits that he finds adorable.

- All his pencils are chewed and chucked, and you once thought a dog did that. He often bites into them when he's bored or just in a random trance, you had to stop him before he could finish the whole thing.

"Tohma snap out of it! You're gonna scarf the whole thing at this point!!"

"h-huh..!?" The moment he noticed the bite marks all over the wooden object he only laughed it off. Later on he didn't notice he was chewing it again, which caused it to snap. You let him borrow yours and he made sure not to bite into them this time.

- Though.. you later on find a few nibbles on the top part of the pen, making you sigh

-You bought him a set of Chewable pencil toppers and he was ecstatic to say the least.

- Whenever you guys go to the gym for P.E he always gets hit in the head with the ball, he doesn't know why. The next day he brought a helmet to school and that made Childe go into a fit of laughter

- When he got hit by a ball sometime in P.E, he actually got badly injured, so you both went into the infirmary to treat his injured forehead.

"Punyeta. Why can't those 4th grader brats just stay on their side of the Gym? this shit always happens to you" You scowled as you tend to his wound

"Ha-ha.. even if they were on their side, I doubt the ball won't hit me" He sighs with a sheepish smile

- Has Tiktok as well, but the reason is to like most of Childe's Videos (very supportive friend lol)

- The escort of your class (And Ayaka was the class muse)

- He often get's into those Class Pageant contests (and the UN themed ones as well). He has a wardrobe filled with all the costumes he used lol

"Hold still Tohma! That get up looks great beside the vending machine," Childe cackles as he takes pictures of the blonde

"LMAO-- He's literally in a sparkling suit- HA HAHA" you mirrored his actions, taking out your phone. He plays along, posing with each snap of the camera's, while Scaramouche just deadpans at you three's antics.

Scaramouche

- The Sassy Honor student

- He's cold and snappy to everyone, including you. But don't worry, he warmed up eventually, though he still acts a teensy bit cold towards you.

- You guys were seat buddies while he and Childe were on the same club

- He trusts you to do his eyeshadow so you often both do each other's makeup (It's not allowed in campus so you both have glasses to slightly hide your eye makeup, matching glasses of course.

- He has a small taser keychain in his school ID and bag, and once threatened Ajax with it (He kept calling him short)

- Whenever your group goes out to eat you both get Drinks (Boba) together while Childe and Tohma goes ahead and buy Fish balls (lol)

- He once got a bad grade for the first time and he kept brushing it off whenever people ask about it, but you know that's not how he actually feels

"Hey Scara.. You sure you're ok? " You asked, when the both of you were alone in the classroom.

That's all it took for him to sigh and lean against your shoulder, mumbling a small "No"

It shocked you, but proceeded to place your hand on top of his crown to comfort him, after a few seconds of the both of you sitting in comfortable silence, he speaks up again

"Not a word about this. Or else I'll tase you."

"Sheesh, sunget naman" You giggled

- He sometimes uses you as an arm stand, it doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter, He'll stand on top of a chair just to lay his elbow on your head and he smirks down at you whenever you tell him to get it off, you couldn't convince him to, so you just accepted your fate.

- You were both often the sarcastic duo of your group and would always retort mean insults to the ginger (As a joke though, you three insult each other as friend of course.)

- Intellectual insults, brought to you by our favorite sassy boi

What the squad is like

- Ajax and Scaramouche are your classic Volleyball players and LMAO- they're basically Kageyama and Hinata in reverse

"The fuck kinda serve was that?" The red head teases

"Shut up you orange tree"

"Well, at least no one ever assumes I'm a 4th grader~"

"THE FUCK YOU SAY YOU IMBECILE!?" He snaps, hitting the ball with a strong slap when it reached over the net. And because he was out of focus, that ball ended up landing into Tohma who was cheering in the sidelines with you

"T-Tohma!!!" you shrieked as his soul starts to leave his body

- Whenever Scaramouche is very fired up in a game,you and Tohma would cheer and chant at him with these specific words;

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Will you do the Fandango!? ~"

- He tells you to stop cause it's embarrassing, but you don't and he honestly secretly enjoys it

- Your squad would sometimes ask Tohma to buy some snacks in the cafeteria (With Childe paying lol) and at this point he's carrying a reusable bag as if he were going to the market

"Eh? Tohma, why do you have that bag with you?" A student asks "Are you going to the market?.. But School's still going.."

"Oh, this? Ha-ha nah! I'm just going to the cafeteria"

- The Cafeteria staff kinda got used to the same orders he'd often list out so they just dump them in the bag and Tohma gives them the cash with a simple thank you as if it was a routine (Hm, maybe it already is)

- When all of you would hang out, out of school you'd go to the arcade and it takes Childe a whole minute or two in the Claw machine. You almost got banned because kept cursing so loudly (there were little kids around)

- You and Scaramouche would play shooting games and holy shit he's good-

-You asked him if he ever had experiences in actual guns and he responded with;

"Oh, no. I just envision the targets as that Idiot who can't get anything from the Claw machine" He points at Childe

"HEY!"

- Childe and Tohma would battle through DDR and it either ends with a tie or you and Scara having to drag them out cause it was getting late.

-Lots of prizes earned and Childe swore he was close to buying the entire claw machine (Damn rich boi--)

- At the end of the day, all you three would get your preferred drinks as you all gaze at the nearest beach sunset. (You had the classic soda and straw in a bag of course)

- Whenever you plan, get together's like these, you always looked forward to them

- But let's say hypothetically that your parents are strict or didn't let you join them this time, well bestie, it's either they wont go and reschedule or kidnap you lmao

- Childe asked you to come outside of your house and the moment you did, you were met by a car and a laughing Childe and Tohma who carried you bridal style towards the vehicle

"Pukeng ina-- Mom's gonna kill me!!" you laughed into the gingers arms, hitting him playfully

"Quick Tohma!" He calls out to the boy, getting inside the car as he still holds onto you "Drive bitch! drive!!"

- By the time you got home you almost got banned from ever hanging out with them (You got grounded though LMAO)

- Your Group chat's are filled with chaos.

-Memes, Arguments (Scara and Childe) and Assignment answers were the contents of your chats

Tortang talong: [Bitch]

Fandak-go: [Bitcher]

Mama's boi: [Guys can someone send me today's assignments?]

Tortang talong: [*Sends a rick roll*]

Fandak-go: [That's like the 100th time you've sent the same joke as before.]

Fandak-go: [You're so fucking Un-original]

Tortang talong: [Please.]

Tortang talong: [ Compare my sense of humor to yours and you'll see how superior I'am to you]

Mama's boi: Guys, please :"D

Fandak-go: [Superior to me?]

Fandak-go: [Like that'll ever happen.]

Tortang talong: [My level is higher than yours, considering your height-]

Fandak-go: [I'll fucking strangle you.]

Tortang-talong: [I'd like to see you try and reach my head.]

Cult master: [Bitchest]

Cult master: [Awe- I'm too late XC]

Mama's boi: [Y/n help- please-]

Cult master: [Oki hun, what do u need?]

Cult master: [Holy shit wait- we have assignments!?]

- You're a group of chaotic idiots

- But at least you're all in it together and that's what matters<3

Translations

Gago = Stupid/Idiot

Ate = Older sister/ Can be also used as an honorific for women who are a bit older than you

Punyeta = Asshole

"sunget naman" = "so sassy"

Pukeng ina (Putang ina) = Putang ina translates to "You're mom's a whore" but can also be an expression of "Mother whore" leading to something like this "Mother whore! you scared me!!" and 'Puke' means; Pussy, so this dialogue translates to "Pussy Mother" or "Fucking pussy"

Tortang talong = Fried Eggplant omelette

Fandak-go = Fandango and Pandak mixed together. Pandak means short

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

she ain’t a gold digger ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2417

request?: yes!

“Hi, please write a MGK imagine where the reader joins him on tour and he loses his wallet and when they decide to go out to a club one night, she asks him to get something from her bag and he sees his wallet in there. He accuses her of stealing and they get into a fight and she storms off. One of the guys confesses that they found it in their suitcase by accident and just slipped it in her purse to keep it safe but forgot to tell him and he apologizes profusely to reader and after some persuasion she forgives him”

description: when his wallet goes missing and he finds it in her bag, he lets the tabloids bullshit get to him and causes a fight he regrets

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst

masterlist (one, two)

The hotel room was basically overturned when (Y/N) walked in. Colson was tossing things from his suitcase, frantically searching for something.

“We’ve only been here like five minutes, is it really time to pull a full Motley Crue on this room?” she teased.

“I can’t find my wallet,” Colson said, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“What?”

“It’s not in my suitcase, it’s not in any of my pants - the ones in my suitcase or the ones I’m wearing - it’s not in my carry on or my jacket.”

(Y/N) crossed the room to kneel next to Colson. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. In a more calm manner, she looked through the things Colson had messily thrown about the floor. She helped him to look for the millionth time through everything, coming up empty yet again.

“Okay, don’t panic,” she said. “You had it at the airport because it was with your passport. We can call both this airport and the one we just departed from to see if it’s been turned in. In the meantime, we can lock your cards so no one can use them.”

Colson nodded, but (Y/N) could see the panic in his eyes. She cupped his face and made him look up at her. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find it, and if we don’t we’ll replace it the best we can.”

~~~~~~

Despite the stress he was still feeling, Colson decided to join (Y/N) and his friends at the club that night. He was glued to his phone the entire ride there, and once they got to the club (Y/N) took it and shoved it into her purse.

“Relax,” she told him. “We’re here to have a good time.”

“But what if someone calls about my wallet?” he asked.

“Then they’ll leave a message. I highly doubt anyone is calling you at almost midnight, though.” (Y/N) laced her fingers through Colson’s and pressed her body against his. “Please baby? For me?”

Colson sighed but (Y/N) could see the smile on his face. “Fine, but you’re paying for my drinks tonight.”

He had to admit the night out was what he needed. Besides the panic over his wallet, Colson had also basically worked himself to death the past few months. Between recording and filming, and now the tour. He was just grateful that his manager allowed (Y/N) to join them on tour. He’d be out of his mind without her.

(Y/N) pushed through the crowd to where Colson and his friends were and passed Colson his drink. He smiled and pulled her down onto his lap. (Y/N) giggled as Colson pressed a kiss onto her neck.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, do us the curtesy of going to the bathroom,” Rook called over the music.

“Please, I’m more classy than that,” Colson responded. “I’d fuck her in the coat closet like a gentleman.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and stood. “I’m gonna go dance. Enjoy your boy talk.”

Colson watched the beautiful curved figure of his girlfriend strut to the dancefloor. He finished his drink in one mouthful and went to follow her.

They danced together for so long that Colson had forgotten all of his worried for a brief period of time. He gazed lovingly into the face of the love of his life as she grinded her hips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sheepishly smiled up at him.

“Wanna get out of here?” she whispered seductively in his ear.

“More than anything,” Colson responded. “I’ll get our things. Meet me at the front doors.”

(Y/N) smiled and winked at him as they went their separate ways. Colson pulled out the coat check tickets to get his jacket and (Y/N)’s purse, and passed it to the girl working there. As he shrugged on his jacket, he got the overwhelming urge to check his phone to see if anyone had called about his wallet.

He promised (Y/N) he’d have a good time, but she didn’t have to know he checked. He would just look and see if there were any missed calls then forget until morning.

However, when he opened (Y/N)’s purse to get her phone, he noticed something on the very top: his wallet.

Why does she have my wallet? he thought. And why wouldn’t she tell me that she had it? She knows how worried I’ve been about it.

He tried not to overthink anything before talking to (Y/N) first. He made his way to the front of the club where (Y/N) was waiting with a joint hanging partially out of her mouth. She looked over at him and smiled as a puff of smoke rolled from her lips.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked. When she noticed Colson’s serious look, her smile fell. “Babe, are you okay? Did something happen?”

He found his words stuck in his throat, so instead of speaking he just held his wallet up.

“Holy shit! Is that your wallet?” Colson nodded, still unable to talk. “Where did you find it?!”

“In your purse.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? How did it get in my purse?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She looked up at him as she took another puff from the joint. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything, I’m just asking a question. This is your purse after all, the only people who touch it are you and me. Obviously I didn’t put the wallet in there so that leaves one person.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Say it Colson. Fucking say it.”

“Did you take my wallet (Y/N)?”

“No! Of course I didn’t!”

“Then why is it in your purse?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and turned away from Colson. She started to walk away, but he followed her.

“If you took it, I just want to know why,” he said. “I’m not upset, I know there’s likely a good reason for taking it and not telling me.”

“I didn’t fucking take it!” (Y/N) snapped, spinning around to glare at Colson. “I know how this looks, I know it makes no sense, but I fucking swear to you I did not take your fucking wallet. I don’t know how it got in my purse, I don’t know why it’s there, but I did not take your goddamn wallet!”

“Then why the fuck is it in your purse?!”

(Y/N) let out a frustrated groan and buried her head in her hands. “Why can’t you just fucking believe me when I say I didn’t take it? I don’t know how it got in my purse, but I didn’t take it.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, (Y/N). How else would it have gotten there? You’re the only one who even touches your purse, none of the guys have had access to it. You knew when and where I had my wallet last, and now it’s showing up in your bag.”

“If I had taken it, why was I trying to help you find it? Why did I tell you to shut down your cards so no one could use them? Why was I helping you to call the airports and turn over the entire hotel room another two times looking for it? Why would I go to those lengths if I just had it instead of telling you just to replace it all?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N), maybe you were just making sure you could get whatever fucking money you could from me without me realizing.”

(Y/N)’s face fell and her eyes started to well with tears. After being together for a year, she thought he would know her better than that. She thought he wouldn’t believe the bullshit tabloid websites were publishing about her being a gold digger and just dating Colson for the money. She thought he would knew she loved him with her entire heart because of who he was, not because he was a famous rapper.

Apparently she was wrong.

Without another word, (Y/N) turned away from him and walked towards the line up of taxis that were waiting outside of the club. Colson watched her go, his anger starting to subside and be replaced by guilt. But he couldn’t go after her, he wouldn’t. He needed some time to think about all of this, to let her think about it as well. Neither one of them were going to get any answers if they kept fighting and hurting one another.

Colson entered the club again, order two more strong drinks and finding his way back to his boys. They all looked at him with confusion as he sat down where he had been before.

“Dude, I thought you left,” Baze said.

“I thought so, too, until I found my wallet in (Y/N)’s purse,” Colson muttered. “We got into a fight and she left.”

“Why were you fighting about that?” Rook asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Colson waved off the comment, not feeling in the mood to relay the entire fight back to his friends.

“Wait, did I not tell you I put the wallet there?” Slim asked.

Colson nearly choked on one of his drinks. He coughed and turned to look at his friend. “You fucking had it?”

“Yeah man, it somehow got in my carry on,” Slim responded. “I found it when we were waiting for our luggage. I put it in (Y/N)’s purse cause I knew it would be safe there. I could’ve swore I told you that, though.”

“You didn’t,” Colson said. “God fucking dammit, I’m an idiot.”

“What did you say to her, man?” Baze asked.

“I...I insinuated that she...she’s only with me for my money and she stole my wallet so she could get it.”

The guys chorused disapproving noises at the same time.

“Kells, (Y/N) is literally the realest person I’ve ever met,” Rook said. “She ain’t a gold digger, and you definitely shouldn’t think that she is.”

“I don’t,” Colson sighed. “I was just pissed. God, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Bro,” Slim said, leaning forward to look at Colson, “go after your woman and apologize.”

Colson nodded and quickly stood from his seat. The cab ride back to the hotel felt incredibly slow. Of course, he had left his phone in (Y/N)’s purse so he couldn’t even call or text her. There was no guarantee that she was even at the hotel, and that thought had Colson’s anxiety so much higher.

He desperately searched his pockets for the hotel key as he approached the room. When he couldn’t find it, he realized it was likely he had left that in (Y/N)’s purse, too. He sighed and began knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he said, his voice soft. “Baby, can you let me in? I think my key is in your purse.” When there was no movement, he added, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should’ve listened to you. Slim admitted to putting my wallet in your bag, turns out he had it all along. I...I should never have thought it was you. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Can...can you let me in, please?”

There was silence. Not even signs of movement. Colson’s heart began to race as he realized the likeliness that (Y/N) had left. He had no idea where she could’ve gone, and now he didn’t even have any way of reaching her.

The door suddenly opened and (Y/N)’s tearstained face looked up at him. She didn’t say anything as she turned away and walked back into the hotel room. Colson followed in silence, unsure of what else to say. He just wanted to hold her and apologize forever, to do anything and everything she wanted to make things better.

(Y/N) got back into bed and laid with her back to Colson. He stood there in the dark, just looking at her.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You called me a gold digger,” (Y/N) responded, her voice equally as small. “After almost a year together, you called me a fucking gold digger.”

“I know - ”

“We’ve talked about how much those tabloid stories get to me, how upset they make me, and you really had the audacity to bring that up and not believe me when I said that I didn’t take your wallet.”

The fact that her voice wasn’t angry, but rather sad, made everything so much worse. Colson winced at her words, feeling a lump form in his throat.

“I know,” he repeated. “I don’t know why I said any of that. I didn’t mean it, I know you love me. I just...I have no excuses. I am a total fucking idiot and you have every right to be angry with me. I know I’m sorry won’t cut it, but for now that’s all I can say. I really am sorry.”

There was another prolonged silence. (Y/N) didn’t even move from her place on the bed. Colson had accepted the fact that she probably hated him and was preparing to go stay with one of the guys for the night, when he heard the bed shift and (Y/N)’s soft voice ask, “Did the guys give you shit?”

Colson smiled to himself. “Yeah, they did. They called me an idiot.”

“You are one.”

“I know.”

Through the darkness of the room, Colson could see (Y/N) lift the blankets and gesture for him to join her. He quickly kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket somewhere on the floor. The minute his body connected with hers, he felt relief wash over him. He hugged her tightly, never wanting to let her go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head and repeating the sentiment over and over.

“And I love you, as in you - Colson Baker. Not Machine Gun Kelly, not the man with the money. I love the real you.”

“I know you do. I promise I’ll never doubt that again baby.”

(Y/N) relaxed into Colson’s arms, still a bit hurt from what he had said but happy to have him there with her. Finally, after some time, the two drifted off to sleep.