#i dunno i have had a crappy few days i needed to get this out of my system

[thylaseraph]

JANUARY, 1995

It’s a shooting day and Dean’s ears are ringing with the pop of the .22 that’s growing heavy in his hands. At Bobby’s house he always has to wear earmuffs when he shoots; usually Dean complains because they look stupid, but right now his ears are so frozen he’s wishing he had a pair of his own.

He points the muzzle at the ground and shakes his head out, cupping a stiff hand to his cheek. There’s exactly zero blood flow happening in his face, and the cold makes each shot ring out so loudly he has to try not to flinch. And his socks are wet. Pretty miserable shit.

John’s on his way back from replacing the target, face grim.

“How’d I do?” Dean calls. Too loud, judging from the way his dad scowls.

“You’re blowing through ammo and you only got six on the page.”

Dean slumps. “Crap.”

“Yeah, it is. You need to get your shit together, I can tell your heart isn’t in this. You reload yet?”

Dean sniffles, even though he can’t feel his nose, either. “No.”

“No?”

“No, sir.”

“So get going. Show me you can do better.”

Dean’s fingers feel like ten useless icicles. He slides the chamber open and clink-clink-clinks ten bullets inside, then carefully closes the action. The Beretta is a testy bitch that jams constantly. Dad only trusts it for training and seems likely to chuck it soon.

He barely seems affected by the chill. Mostly he looks bored. “Go on and take a few steps forward. Ladies’ tee until you get ‘em all on the page, and then we’ll think about moving you back again.”

Dean’s skin crawls with embarrassment and he wants to protest—he could do better if it were warmer and if he weren’t so tired already—but obediently he moves closer to the target.

“Alright.”

He raises the gun and clicks the safety off. He’s probably more cautious with it than John cares, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

The target is a sheet of paper with orange circles pinned to a stump surrounded by casings. He lines the center up in his sight and then aims a little lower to compensate because the Beretta shoots high. God, if Dean could get his hands on that ivory-grip Colt, he’d die happy.

He empties her out, gets about nine bullets on the page. Four of them land tight in the center. The stray shot is only because he overcorrected his aim at first.

He turns back to his dad with a grin on his face, feeling pretty proud. There’s a pleasant buzz of warm feeling in his nose and eartips along with the ringing in his ears as he traipses back to the ammo box. “Not so crappy, huh?”

John shakes his head. “Dunno where you learned to be such a brag.”

“What am I supposed to be, humble? Pass.” He squats by the box, breathing on his numb hands before delicately picking up the bullets. “Hard pass.”

“Being humble is what keeps you alive. Nine out of ten only seems good on a target that doesn’t move. It isn’t your best—or it shouldn’t be.” John’s silence is as unforgiving as his voice. Dean watches his words sink through the winter air like smoke.“We stay here until you can actually hit what you’re aiming at.”

Through no fault of his own, Dean’s mouth is suddenly letting loose the complaint he’s been trying to hold in. “Come on, give me a break, Dad. It’s freezing, and I’m tired, and I’m about to have frostbite on my carpal tunnel. I feel like I can barely pull the damn trigger!”

His father’s boots crush against the frozen ground louder than a gun. He looks up quickly, stomach dropping. Dad and his rifle make a stark silhouette against the cold white sky above.

“You don’t ever speak to me like that again. You sound like your brother, like some insolent child, not a man I’d trust with my weapon. I know I taught you better than this. When lives depend on you, are you still gonna be making excuses? Are you gonna be whining about the weather when it’s your bad aim that gets somebody killed? Is it gonna be the trigger’s fault when you get yourself killed?”

“No, sir,” Dean replies, heart beating in his throat.

“You’re laughing, you’re fucking around, I can see you’re not taking this seriously. You still don’t understand the stakes. Think about Sam—you know whose fault it’ll be if you can’t take care of him or the lives you say you want to protect?”

“My fault, sir. Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Don’t be begging for respect when you haven’t earned it. The only reason we’re still out here is you. You being cold and tired right now is on you. This is all in your control. Your life is in your own hands, nobody else’s. Do you understand that?”

His eyes are so heavy.

Dean nods and looks down, unable to speak. He is so stupid.

The dry air is hurting his head; he won’t be surprised if they get back to the cabin and find Sam with a bloody nose. Kid’s got a fragile sinus. The sooner Dean makes this, the sooner they can get back. He loads fast.

“Sam told me that you went hunting,” John says, tone slipping back to conversational.

“Yeah,” Dean says, grateful as he slides the clip home. “Bobby showed us how to do animal calls.”

“Being able to hunt and eat what you’ve killed is important. For when you have to keep yourself fed, but for building character, too. A hunter should be able to hunt.”

“And fish,” Dean adds. “Hey, we should go again soon.”

John nods, the barest hint of warmth. “My point is, everything you need to survive should be in your power. Your gun is your second most important tool after grit. Even when you won’t know if you will survive, you have to know that you can survive.”

Dean nods, and after a few seconds of silence, he supplies, “Bobby makes good venison chili.” He doesn’t mention that Bobby specifically said John was not invited to any of his suppers.

“You get one?” John asks. “A deer?”

Dean stands slowly, thumbing the safety. He doesn’t click it off, yet, and he keeps it pointed at the ground. Like Bobby keeps cussing him out about. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

Dean’s mouth is sour, the pit in his stomach is growing again, and somehow he’s sweating. John sounds like he knows the answer why.

Dean clicks the safety off and Dad doesn’t even look twice, just waits. Dean walks back to his spot and gets into position. Behind him, John sighs. He sounds so tired.

“If you can’t even kill a deer, how do you think you’re gonna be able to shoot things that look human?”

Dean aims at the target and tries to breathe. The freeze is in his lungs, now, January’s teeth seizing his insides so every inhale is sharp. The target wavers in his sight as he tries to keep his hands still. It’s just an orange circle. Just a tree stump. Just practice, so he’s fine.

He exhales slowly, finger curling around the trigger. He’s fine and he’s got this.

“I mean, what am I supposed to think, Deanna,” John says lowly, voice pinched with disappointment, “you tell me you want me to treat you like a man, but you can’t even—”

Dean fires, ten rounds in steady, thundering succession until the ringing in his ears drowns out the sound of the chamber clicking empty.

The target is in tatters. He thinks they all landed.

His chest is still tight, and raw, and like maybe something has shaken loose or broken free. With shaking hands, he zips up his jacket, and then he turns and walks to his father’s side.

“It’s Dean,” he says thinly. He clears his throat and adds, “Sir.”

John’s looking at him and Dean can’t make out what’s going on behind his eyes. After a moment he nods, and then jerks his head toward their gear. “Pack up.”

As Dean’s cleaning up—collecting fallen casings and discarded targets, and making sure every gun is unloaded and every safety is on because Sam always pokes around even when they tell him not to—John claps him on the shoulder. His voice is soft again.

“I’m just worried about you, I need you to know that. I want you to be able to take care of yourself and Sammy when I’m not around. This world is mean, and cold, and it’ll tear you apart. I can be hard on you kids…I push you too hard, I know it, and it still won’t be enough to keep you safe. And that kills me.”

John cups the back of his head. Dean meets his eyes and sees a world in there that he can’t begin to fathom. “You did good today, Dean, really good. I don’t want you to think I have any doubts—about how strong you are, and how brave. And I trust I can depend on you, son.”

Somewhere inside Dean, a knot loosens, like he’s finally been allowed to breathe a little. It’s good.

#repost from my old blog #trans dean winchester #transphobia #misgendering #deadnaming #parental abuse #verbal abuse #forced masculinzation emotional stunting meow meow meow #bound for the floor by local h released 1996 changing nothing in deans life but becoming a soundtrack #dean: i earned respect! john: if i push him hard enough he will kill so good :3 #ficlet #supernatural #trans dean #cw misgendering #tw misgendering #deadname #tw gun mention #tw gun use #mine

[shapeshiftinterest]

A Semi Successful Rescue Mission: bowser x luigi

similar prompt as fic Frightened To Flirty in 3 Seconds Flat + the idea that bowser should have used luigi to roleplay practice his wedding with peach in the movie

first half has the same vibes as THIS post

mario, dk, and peach infiltrate bowser’s castle on a rescue mission

story under the read more

Semi Successful Rescue Mission (also on ao3)

The sound of rushed footsteps echoed through the corridors as Mario, Peach, and Donkey Kong looked for Luigi.

“We have to hurry,” Mario said, finishing a scan of the room and moving on to the next. “Based on the picture of Bowser you showed me, it might be too late!”

Sprinting down another hallway, they almost ran into a platoon  of Bowser’s troops before quickly backtracking. “Too late for what?” DK asked, trying to keep up with the plumber.

Peach gave the all clear on her end and the trio skidded around a corner, checking more rooms. “It’s only been 2 days, Mario,” she said. “It’d be too soon for Bowser to actually harm your brother; I’m honestly surprised we made it this far in so little time.”

It was true. The original plan would have taken at least another day or two, but Mario knew they would have run out of time by then.

“It’s not Luigi I’m worried about. I mean, I am worried about him,” Mario slammed another door shut and opened another. “But the one we should really be worried about is the Koopa King.”

Peach and DK paused to exchange a look. Mario stopped as well, looking to both ends of the hall before ushering the group into an empty room. “Look,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Sometimes when my brother gets to a certain level of scared he’ll get really, and I mean really, flirty. If that koopa is anything like your description of him we have to get to Luigi and snap him out of it.”

The two royals blinked.

“What?” Peach asked, unsure of where this was going.

“It’s some kind of- of self defense or coping mechanism, I dunno the specifics. Our cousins used to joke around about it when we were younger and call him ‘Lady Killer Luigi’ but it was a whole thing.”

Making sure the coast was clear, the three moved out and began checking the rooms for Mario’s younger brother.

“Mario, I still don’t understand-”

The three made their way to the last room with the biggest double doors Mario had seen in his life. He had a bad feeling about this.

DK snorted. “Relax, Princess. He’s probably just scared his brother’s gonna get hurt insulting that overgrown turtle with a crappy pick up line.”

“It’s much worse than that.” Mario said, pushing open the doors. Their eyes took a moment to adjust before Peach and DK’s jaws dropped. There, at the end of the aisle, was Luigi in a wedding dress. The younger plumber was standing next to a fully suited King Bowser, Kamek standing at the podium behind them.

“Not again.” Mario muttered to himself.

DK’s head whipped to the side to stare at Mario in shock. “AGAIN?!?!”

“Oh my god, what is happening right now,” Peach whispered.

“Mama Mia. This is just as bad as the time he charmed the entire wedding party and the couple getting married.”

“HE WHAT?!?!”

DK had never felt so lost and confused, so many things, so much information! He needed to sit down.

“Luigi,” Mario took a cautious step towards the ‘couple’. “Step away from the koopa.”

Luigi looked at his bro, side eyed Bowser, and then back to Mario.

His skirts swished as he shuffled a bit closer to the groom.

“Weegee, you leave him alone right this instant” Placing his hands on his hips, Mario stomped his foot on the carpet and gave his best Disappointed Big Brother stare. “You can’t marry a guy you just met!“

“Is this reality?” DK whispered to Peach as they watched the argument unfold. A few Shy Guys had joined them in the pew and were passing around bags of popcorn.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Peach answered, shoving a handful of snack into her face. She didn’t know if they should be watching but it was so hard to look away.

Luigi grinned, taking hold of the Bowser’s purple ribbon and yanking the king down to his level. The koopa grunted at the motion. “Listen here, you little-” he growled but was cut off by Mario.

“Weegee, no.”

“Good thing I’ve known him for almost 2 days then.”

“Luigi Mario, don’t you dare-”

Catching everyone by surprise, the green plumber grabbed Bowser by the face and slammed their lips together.

“MMPH?!?!?”

“Holy-!” DK and Peach squawked at the sudden kiss. Shy Guys were tossing popcorn everywhere in excitement.

“Damn it, Luigi,” Mario sighed, rubbing his temples.

Luigi pulled away first; sliding a gloved hand under the king’s chin and closing his mouth. With a wink and a playful pat to the larger man’s cheek, he turned and made his way to his big brother, shaking his shoulder.

“Relax bro, we were just practicing for his and Peach’s ‘future wedding’. It’s all pretend.“

“If you say so...”

        - 3 Hours After DK, Peach, Mario, And Luigi Leave Bowser’s Castle-

“Sire?” 

Kamek shuffled into the training hall, decimated exercise equipment was scattered every which way, scorch marks evident on some of them. The advisor even saw a few claw marks on the stone walls that had definitely not been there this morning.

All evidence pointed to one thing: Bowser was furious. Not only had he been embarrassed by that coward of a green plumber, he’d also been seen practicing for his wedding with the princess and kissed said plumber, IN FRONT OF PEACH!

Plus they’d all escaped and somehow set his prisoner’s free in the process. All that hard work for nothing.

“What?” He growled, growing hot with rage just thinking about the absolute disaster today had been. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I- erm, I have some... bad news, about the wedding, Your Majesty.”

The king groaned, running his claws over his face. Stupid practice wedding, stupid rizzed up plumber. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Yeah yeah. We’ll have to postpone it again until I recapture the hostages and fix whatever damage to the castle and troops Mario and the others did.”

He swore, the next time he saw Luigi-

“You and Luigi are officially, legally, married to each other.”

“WHAT?!?!”

Kamek barely dodged the burst of flame Bowser threw his way.

“Whaddaya mean me and Greenie are actually married?!”

The king snatched Kamek in one massive paw, eyes blazing as he glared directly at the magikoopa. “Explain!”

Apparently even just reading the scripts for the wedding could count as official if the contract was signed and the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. The advisor hadn’t thought they’d actually get that far. He’d thought even less that the plumber would be the one to initiate it as a prank on his older brother.

“Great, just great!”

Bowser released the magikoopa and tried to ward off an incoming headache. “Aauuggghh, whatever!”

“Kamek!”

“Yes, Your Ruthlessness?”

“Find a way to break the marriage contract and tell the troops to set a course to the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“But Sire! You can’t marry the princess if-”

“We’re not kidnapping her this time,” Bowser snapped, smoke and sparks appearing at the edges of his muzzle.

“We’re getting my ‘bride’ back.

BONUS

can’t write this part but some possible ideas:

the others get informed about the situation (king consort luigi) via magic ball zoom call with kamek and toadsworth

mario is panicking, peach is worried, DK thinks it’s hilarious, and luigi’s nervous but honestly fine with it

bowser tries to kidnap luigi either loudly or quietly:

loudly:bowser bursts thru a wall or sets a diversion, kidnaps luigi, but luigi switches back to rizz mode; the divorce can only happen if both parties sign

quietly: he gets caught (luigi stalls him) and ends up talking with everyone; there’s a part where he’s like ‘I’m just trying to divorce the guy but all the divorce stuff is at my castle’

bowser’s signature was already on the contract during the practice run, luigi sneakily signed it as a joke when no one was looking before leaving

slow burn thing where bowser starts crushing on luigi while trying to convince him to get a divorce

normal luigi starts being less scared at the koopa kingdom and uses his status to form relationships with other kingdoms kinda behind bowser’s back

luigi also teases mario about liking DK

#my words #my fanfic #fanfiction #shapeshiftinterest #movies #mario #bowser #luigi #bowuigi #donkey kong #princess peach #kamek #shy guys #LGBTQA #lady killer luigi #flirting #pre relationship #established relationship #in a way? #accidental marriage #scott pilgrim reference #wallace again?! #luigi again?! #frozen reference #you can't marry a guy you just met! #kisses

[holdmytesseract]

Bottled Up Feelings

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Beth's death took its toll on everyone of the group, but especially on Maggie and Daryl - who tends to just bottle up his feelings, until you finally get him to talk to you, causing his well build up walls to tumble down.

Takes place in season five!

Warnings: TWD stuff, mentions of death, angst, uhh fluff?

Word Count: 2k

a/n: I am so sorry... I couldn't help myself... 😅 I am super uncertain about this... I really dunno if this is good. I don't really think so. I’ve been thinking a lot about posting it at all; was on the verge of just deleting it again... 🙈 I tried to somehow get Daryl (and Rick) right, but well... I dunno. Please go easy on me - if you decide to read this crappy fic... 😅

Walking in the sweltering heat for days wasn't great and especially not easy. Walking in the sweltering heat for days without having enough to drink and nothing to eat, was excruciating. We were all weak and exhausted, almost having no strength left. If a bigger herd of walkers would attack us, neither of us could keep up the fighting for long or would be able to run away. This would be more than likely our death warrant. The almost forlorn situation we were currently in, and the loss of Beth and Tyreese took its toll on all of us - and Washington was still sixty miles away...

Droplets of sweat were rolling down my temples, as I reached for the bottle of water, which was strapped to my cargo pants. A frustrated huff left my lips, when I noticed that the bottle was as good as empty. Great. I took a small sip, before stowing the bottle away again. My eyes focused back on the road and my friends, walking in front of me. I didn't even notice, that I was falling behind, so I jogged slowly to outrun them again - and that was when I noticed somebody was missing... Rick was walking at the front with Carol and Carl, who held little Judith in his arms. Maggie was at Glenn's side - of course, while Michonne was at Sasha's. Rosita walked alongside Tara, Eugene and Abraham. "Rick!" I called out to my friend. I knew him since this hell broke loose above the world. He was like a big brother to me, without a doubt. The man in question turned around to look at me and stopped in his tracks to wait for me to catch up. "What is it, Y/N? You alright?" I nodded, "Yeah..." and paused for a moment. "Where's Daryl?" Rick nodded towards the wood. "He headed out, lookin' for some water or food." "Alone?" "Of course. We're talkin' about Daryl." I rolled my eyes. Typical for him to do this on his own... I knew that he could handle things alone very well. If someone could, then Daryl - but that didn't keep me from slightly worrying about my 'secret' boyfriend. There had always been something between us, from the very first day we met in that camp and well... Somehow, we kind of got together at some point. It wasn't an official thing, though. Nobody knew about us - except Rick. But just because he kinda walked in on us once – don't ask. The rest of the group was thinking that we were just good friends... "Imma go, look for him. Check, if he needs help or somethin'." A small, almost unrecognisable smile scurried over the policeman's face. "Alright. But look after yourself, you hear me?" "Promise." I checked on my daggers, before I left the group and walked into the woods, searching for Daryl.

I looked around, scanning the area. It was quiet. Only the sounds of the forest could be heard. No walkers in sight - luckily. "Daryl?" I followed the direction Rick told me Daryl went. He was nowhere to be seen, so I continued my search. "Daryl?" It took me quite a while to find him, but then I saw him, sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree and... I stopped immediately in my movement. Was he... crying? I took a few small steps closer, heard the heart-breaking sobs leaving his throat. He was crying. I stopped again, swallowed hard. I had never... Never in all those months seen him being this vulnerable before. He definitely wasn't a man who showed that kind of feelings often; always pretending to be the toughest man around. He wasn't. Especially not since Beth's death. He hadn't been the same since then. It had hurt him - deeply... And I knew it, was more than aware of it. I tried to speak to him, but he always shut me out, rather kept on bottling his feelings up. He needed a shoulder to lean on, so I decided to just approach him. I couldn't avert my eyes any longer. He was hurting - and I wanted to help him. So, I took small steps towards Daryl, until I stood right in front of him. He didn't hear, neither saw me coming; had his face buried in his hands. I squatted down and placed my hand gently on his knee.

"Daryl..." He flinched, took his hands immediately away from his face, eyes snapping open, dark brown orbs - now reddened from the tears he shed - looking at me. "Y/N??" He croaked out. "Whatcha doin' 'ere?!" Daryl asked, quickly wiping his tears away. "I... I noticed you were gone and decided to look for you..." "Why?" "Cause I didn't want you to be alone..." "Ya don't need to play my babysitter. I can look after myself." He switched immediately into his defence mode, acting tough. Also typical. He tried to stand up, but I gently pushed him back down. I wouldn't let him get away that easily this time. "I know that, but... Daryl... You're hurting. Since weeks. I can feel that. You were crying." He scoffed, crossed his arms over his chest. "I wasn't-" "No. You can't deny it. I saw it." Another scoff. "Ya don't know anythin'." He tried once again to stand up, but once again, I pushed him back down. "You have no idea, how much I know, Daryl Dixon." I crossed my arms over my chest as well. "I know how close you and Beth were. I know about the deep friendship you shared. Don't pretend otherwise. I know how much her death hurt you. I see it in your eyes, every time I look into them. I know, that showing this kind of feelings isn't your thing, but you can't keep bottling them up. At some point, they are going to eat you up. I know that as well, trust me. In these days, we all need a shoulder to lean on, including you... And I am not letting you go, until you finally talk to me." I meant it, but Daryl was still just staring at me with a clenched jaw. "Please..." I added quietly, placing my hand back on his knee, squeezing slightly, in a reassuring manner. My other hand went to his face, brushing his dark brown strands out of his face, before cupping gently his cheek. Somehow this gesture was all it took. He seemed to lose the strength to fight against it; the walls he had built up so well started to tumble down. I saw how his eyes got glassy once again. His beautiful face contorted, before tears started to run down his cheeks, followed by another heart-breaking sob. I reacted immediately, launched forward and pulled him against me. I said nothing, just let him cry against the dirty fabric of my black blouse, until he calmed a bit down again.

Sad and hurt brown eyes were looking now up at me. This wasn't the strong, invulnerable Daryl sitting in front of me anymore... It was a broken man, who lost a very close friend. "I'm sorry, I-" "Hey, it's okay, it's okay..." I interrupted him immediately, didn't want him to shut me out again. "It's me you are talking to, Daryl. You can always talk to me... You're my partner in crime, remember?" I gave him a soft smile and brushed my thumbs over his cheeks. Another tear escaped his eye. "I... I could've saved her, ya know... If I jus' had reacted faster o-or..." I shook my head, felt how my own tears started to build up in my eyes. "No, Daryl... Nobody could've saved her. Nobody saw it coming. As hard as that sounds, but... It was her decision to attack Dawn." "She jus' wanted to save that boy!" "I know! And she did... Noah's save with us now." Daryl clenched his jaw once again. "I shoulda kill 'er sooner." He looked down, fumbling with his hands. "Nah, I shoulda never let Beth walk towards that bitch. I could've stopped 'er." I shook my head once again. "I know you are blaming yourself, but that's not right. Everyone knows, that her death wasn't your fault. I know that. Rick knows that. Carol knows that - and especially Maggie knows that." I paused for a moment, saw how he swallowed. "You know what, Daryl?" He looked back up, his eyes meeting mine once again. "You were the one looking for her. You followed that damn car, all the way to Atlanta. You found out where she was being held captive. You helped saving her. Without you, we would've never found her again." "Yeah 'n I was the one who let 'er get kidnapped in the first place, didn't I?" "But only because you wanted to save her from those damn walkers!" I argued back, trying to fight against his stubbornness. "Can't you see, Daryl? You were the one who protected and rescued her all along!" He swallowed. I saw, how his tears started to fall for a third time - and once again, I pulled him into my embrace. This time, he buried his face in my stomach and wrapped his arms around my body. "It jus' hurts, Y/N... So damn much." He cried, clinging to me for dear life. "I'm so tired of losin' people." A few hot tears rolled down my cheeks as well. "Me too, Daryl, me too. But as long as I got you, I know I'll be alright." He didn't answer, but hugged me even tighter, trying to be as close to me as somehow possible. And so, we sat there, on the dirty ground, holding each other. It was definitely something we both desperately needed. Daryl more than me, but that wasn't the point.

After what felt like eternity, we let go of each other. "Feeling better?" I asked, standing up, Daryl following me. He nodded, smiling softly at me. "Yeah... Thank ya fer bein' so stubborn and gettin' me to talk to ya." "I told you all the time that this was going to help you, didn't I?" I winked, making him laugh. It was the first laugh, coming from his lips in weeks. "Shut up." There was the Daryl I knew again. I snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, I love you, too." He didn't answer, but I knew. He loved me, just as much as I loved him. Daryl wasn't a man of words, so he gripped gently my wrist, before I could walk away. I turned to face him, wanted to ask what was the matter - but I didn't get that far. Before I could even open my mouth, he quickly bridged the distance between us - and captured my lips with his. The kiss was short, but utterly sweet. So sweet, that I couldn't help myself, but to kiss him again. The second kiss was much deeper than the first. I tangled my arms around his neck, while Daryl's palms landed on my hips to pull me closer. This could've ended more than likely in a heavy make out session - if there wasn't suddenly Rick's voice, calling out for us. "Daryl! Y/N!" Well... We had been probably away for a bit too long... I let go of Daryl again with a slight groan, rolling my eyes. "Over here!" I yelled back, didn't want to let Rick search even longer. "Come on, let's go back." Daryl huffed out an annoyed breath, but followed me. "'N I jus' started to really enjoy this..." I just giggled at his words.

"Are you two alright?" Rick asked, as soon as he reached us. I nodded. "We are." Daryl just walked past him. "Ya have an awful timing, man." Rick's eyes followed Daryl, before he turned back around to face me. "What was that about?" "Well..." I shrugged my shoulders, smiling awkwardly and blushed slightly. That was seemingly answer enough for the policeman. He grimaced. "I interrupted somethin', didn't I?" "A bit, maybe?" "Sorry." I shrugged my shoulders again and waved him off. "Don't worry, I don't mind. It's good that you came looking for us. We could've been in trouble." I smiled at him, what he returned. "Did you find something?" "No..." Rick gave me a nod and placed his hand on my shoulder. "We're goin' to get through this. I promise. We will make this." "I know, Rick. I know."

-

Tagging @youlightmeupfinn and @lokisgoodgirl , 'cause, uh, you two seemed to like the drabble I posted? 🙈

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #twd #daryl dixon

[insomniamamma]

Surrender: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x F!reader

A/N: My hand slipped. Soft little sick fic. Same Reader Character as “Ephemera” which was meant to be a one-shot, but you all know how it goes. I’m relying on Google Translate for Spanish because I took Latin in high school like a dumbass, so please be kind.

Warnings: Implied legal age gap. Class and power dynamics. A little bit of angst on Reader’s part. Illness. References to sex but nothing super graphic. Mostly just soft, fluffy fluff. I wasn’t feeling great when I started this and wanted some comfort from our sweet, out of touch Nico.

I'd like to see you.

Your phone buzzes and you find it in the drifted pile of tissues on your dresser. You sigh and that turns into another series of coughs, hard enough to send black floaters behind your eyes.

I can't. I'm sick.

I'm coming to get you.

Nico no. I feel like shit.

You let the phone fall back into the mountain of used Kleenex and shut your eyes. You're about three hours out from your last dose of NyQuil and the neighbors are blaring their tv again, muffled enough that you can't make out words, but the argumentative tones of afternoon soap operas are enough to jolt you out of sleep every time you feel yourself drift. The phone buzzes a half-dozen more times and then rings.

           "Dammit, Nico," you murmur and reach for the phone.           "I am coming to get you," says Nico, "I will be there in thirty minutes."           "Nico, I feel like crap, I haven't showered I haven't even brushed my teeth-"           "Your apartment is too loud for you to rest properly," he says, and he's not wrong. Christ almighty when the commercials come on it's even louder. Why the fuck does anyone need to have their tv that loud? It's the middle of the day, you can't even justify ringing their doorbell or even pounding on the wall. What good would it do?           "'M all gross--"           "I don't care. Pack your toothbrush and a clean pair of pajamas. I'll be there shortly."           "Nico--"           "Let me care for you, Osita." You sigh over the open line. If it was anyone else you'd bristle. Part of you does bristle. You don't need Nico to whisk you off to his house in the hills above the ocean. You don't need him to do things for you. Sometimes this wordless thing you have with him feels like a weight, a cocoon and ever tightening shroud, whatever it is you are, lovers? Fuck-buddies? Are you his mistress? His charity case? You hear him breathe on the open line, and you are too tired to deal with these questions. When you are with him, you feel like the center of the universe, the burning heart of a galaxy.           "Please," he says, "Please, mi Osita." You make a sound of frustration and you swear you can hear him smile. Mi Osita. You don't know what it means, and you're not sure you want to know, but you like the sound of it, purred against the shell of your ear as he moves inside you, said with a warm wide smile and sparkling eyes when he kisses your cheek and pulls you in for a strong embrace after an absence. You know you won't say no and so does he. It's hard to tell him no.           "Okay," you say, "But I--" whatever you say dissolves into a series of coughs.           "My poor girl. You rest. I'll text you when I'm close."

          You shuffle out to meet Nico, puffy eyes slitted against the light screaming up off of the sidewalk and he immediately starts fussing over you, shucks his jacket and drapes it around you, takes your bag and wraps his arm around your waist as if you might not manage the few steps to his idling car. You smile despite how crappy you feel. He is so worried, so agitated. He presses his palm, and then his scruffy cheek to your forehead.           "It's just a cold, Nico, I'm not gonna die." He opens the door and maneuvers you in, speaks briefly to his driver and then joins you, offers you a bottle off water, cold and sweating and it feels like heaven on your scratchy throat.           "How long have you been ill?"           "I dunno," you say, "I had a sore throat when I got up on Thursday."           "It's Saturday."           "So?" His face is pinched with worry, little line etched between his brows, worries his lip with his teeth before speaking.           "You could have called," he says, "I would have come for you."           "I had to work, Nico," you dig your fingers at your throbbing temples, "You know? That thing people do to pay their bills?" And when you look up at him, his eyes slide away from yours, still smiling but his hands clasp each other in his lap, curl together like small animals. You reach for him, peel his hands apart and fold your fingers around his.           "Sorry. I'm tired. And my head feels like a giant bowling ball full of snot." Nico chuckles. He pulls you close, draws you down so you are resting across the bench seat, draped across his lap, smooths your forehead with the pads of his fingers, and you feel yourself relax under his touch. He talks, something about a bit of land in Ireland that caught his eye, a stone house along the cliffs, needs restoration, two people could live there quite happily, we could look out over the sea, between his voice and the highway hum and the warm pressure of his palm on your forehead you finally sink under.

          He leads you into the cool sanctuary of his house like being inside an eggshell. Mostly muted cream with little pops of color. A cobalt blue vase of calla lillies burgundy shading to velvety midnight purple, a room divider, flying cranes in shimmering gold and pearl and lacquered black. Not so sterile now that his furniture has arrived, but still, cream colored walls and pale carpet, it feels like a pocket universe, everything muffled and cool, soft breezes through curtained windows, sun-sizzle filtered, tamed. And blessedly quiet. The only sounds are the sigh of wind lifting the filmy while curtains like wings, the tinkle of wind chimes the occasional low cry of the parrot that shifts inside its cage. Nico installs you in a chair in front of the window where the breeze can touch you while he draws a bath.

          The parrot's name is Jerry. You'd made a face when Nico told you.           "I didn't name him. He belonged to the prior owners. The husband was suffering dementia and the wife had no desire to care for Jerry. She never liked him I suppose. I have contacted a bird rescue but they have not returned my calls."           "You're not going to keep him?"           "They live a long time," said Nico, "As long as a person. Some think they are as smart as a human child. I cannot care for him. I travel too much. I am away too long. It would be cruel I think."

          Jerry grumbles and shifts in his cage, painted eggshell white, another pop of color. Sometimes you feed him banana slices, green grapes from Nico's fridge. There's always fresh fruit. Jerry's still here and so are you. He makes a sound that reminds you of the baby raptors in the Jurassic Park movies.           "I know, Jer," you say, your eyes growing heavy, soft breeze and wind chimes and bug-buzz drifting in through the windows.

           You are nearly asleep when Nico reappears, offering his hand to pull you upright. Nico at home is a different animal that Nico out and about, jacket and slacks exchanged for a soft henley with buttons undone, loose linen pants. Nico likes softness, curls his toes in the plush carpet. Absently runs his hands over things as he speaks. He pulls you to your feet and wraps his arm around your waist and you lean into him, surrender yourself to his care.

          The bathroom is stupidly huge, cavernous like everything in this house, lit by skylights, sunlight catching the billowing steam in curtains of milky light. You can smell eucalyptus oil even with your head stuffed up, between that and the humid air, your nose starts running instantly. Your clean pajamas are laid out on a low table beside a neatly folded towel. Nico helps you undress, gentle, lingering touches that would lead to more if you weren't feeling so crappy, broad warm palms skimming up your back as he removes your top, braces you as you step out of your pajama bottoms, helps you into the tub, a restored clawfoot, the water just shy of scalding, the way you like it, he pushes up his sleeves and hunkers down pressing his thumbs into the place where your neck and shoulders meet, slides a folded towel under your head and leans you back. Kisses the crown of your head.           “You shouldn't do that," you say, eyes sliding closed, breathing in the smell of eucalyptus and peppermint, cooling your scratchy throat, and your nose runs helplessly, gross, but it lessens the pressure, swipe absently at your face with the back of your hand. It is so good just to be still, the have some quiet. The faint slosh of the water when you move, soft sounds of Nico padding around the house, your own snot-laden breath. You hear him re-enter the room, small sounds of his body shifting, hunkering down.           "Can you sit up for me? I need you to drink this." Nico presses a dose-cup of green goo into your hand.           "That's the nighttime stuff," you say, "It'll make me too sleepy."           "You need to sleep," says Nico, "You will rest. Even if I have to tie you to the bed to make you stay still." You chuckle, at what he just said and at his face as his mind catches up to what just fell out of his mouth. Nico grins, and giggles start bubbling up, his cheeks and ears going pink. Nico laughs like he's trying not to, like those giggles are something that should stay down, stay hidden, as if he is embarrassed. When he lets himself laugh freely he is beautiful, it's a rare thing, like an eclipse. You wish he would do it more.           "You know full well what I meant, you wanton thing." He says, "Take your medicine. Please. For me."           "Okay,"

          The water grows tepid, and there's no sign of Nico. You dry and dress, loose-limbed and clean and breathing easier, your nose and eyes are still running like crazy, but anything is better than that churning pressure in your sinuses. Even muzzy-headed from the medicine you still know where to find him.           Nico sits on the edge of the pool, lazily kicking his feet through the water, phone pressed to his ear, speaking animatedly in Spanish. For someone trying to do the California thing, your Spanish is abysmal. One more thing that you didn't think of before taking this endless, idiotic gamble. Too broke to stay and too proud to leave. You push this thought away and take a long look at your lover. Sunlight shining in his curls, the breadth of his shoulders, the sweep of his neck, the rise and fall of his voice, his guilty giggle. You must make some small sound because he turns towards you, his eyebrows pinched together in worry. He stands.           "...tengo que irme. Mi osito me necesita..." Nico closes the space between you, fast when he wants to be, wraps his hands around you upper arms and peers into your face.           "I am so sorry, I had to take the call, these developers you know how they are--"           "It's fine, Nico."           "How are you feeling?"           "Better," you yawn and it distorts your answer, "Sleepy though."           "That is good. You need your rest. Come."

          The overfilled air mattress is gone, long-replaced by a king size bed with a teak frame that looks like the height of modernity circa 1972, but the sheets are crisp and cool and welcome as Nico tucks you in. Your eyes slide closed, and you hear him move, small sound of a jar unscrewing, and his warm hand sliding beneath your shirt. Rubs the greasy, pungent balm on your chest like your grandma used to do when you were small, lets his palm rest there briefly, a warm, welcome pressure on your sternum, smoothes his hand over the soft swell of your belly and withdraws. You must make some small sound of protest.           "I'm getting you some water for when you wake," he says, "I'll be right back."

          You rise back up out of shallow sleep to the dip of the mattress as Nico lays himself beside you.           "You're gonna get sick," you protest, eyes closed, even as he pulls you to his chest, cradling you against his heart.           "I will not," he says, and tightens his arms around you. "I have a very strong constitution." We'll see, you think, but tuck yourself against him all the same.           "Tell me a story."           "What about?"           "Tell me about your friend from Milan, the one who almost got you arrested." Nico giggles.           "You've heard this story, Osita,"           "Tell me again. It's funny." Nico squeezes you so tight, so so tight.           "Alright, Little Bear, but it won't be any different than the last time. The story won't change."           "Doesn't have to," you say, relishing the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders, burrowed against him, sinking into his warmth like sinking into sleep, your ear against the steady beat of his heart. "Sometimes it's nice to hear the same stories over again."

          You wrap your arm around him, unthinking, slipping your hand just under the hem of his shirt, smiling at the little hitch in his breath. Nico is very ticklish. You have to be careful.

#nico (house comes with a bird) x f!reader #nico x f!reader #nico (house comes with a bird) #house comes with a bird #slice of life

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

FFS, I can’t believe I’ve screwed up this badly with my math!

Here I am, about to go do my once every two week shopping, and as usual I go check my bank account before getting out the cash.

Oh, that surprises you. Yeah, I use cash. I have a refillable debt card, but I reserve it for things I have to order or pay for online, and after trying to pay with a check at Walmart and being refused by their system because I “hadn’t written enough checks”, I’ve stuck with cash. It makes it easier not to screw up, having to keep a strict count while I shop, with no wiggle room, no space for impulsive “Why not?” It’s tough, but at least I don’t accidentally overspend….

Except I just found out I have!!!

It totally took me by surprise. My debit card it down to $12. I bet I forgot to count those new ankle braces I had to get, but the cause doesn’t matter right now. What matters is, if I get out my usual once every two weeks amount to buy the food for me and the animals I won’t have enough in my bank account to pay my $30 phone bill next week!

So here I am, kicking myself for every “luxury” (those blueberries) I bought and realizing I may not be able to buy the stuff I intended to get for the 4th. The 4th is my family “junk food” day, and I won’t have any more money until after!

I mean, I know it’s weird to complain about not getting to buy hot dogs, soda, and potato chips when you are already going “right, maybe you should skip meat and fresh fruit this time”. But darn it, I only buy junk food once a year! I look forward to it!

But the truth is fretting about food choices is distracting me from the real problem: The bills that might crop up before the 5th or 6th of July. The phone bill is the top of the list, but it is hardly the only thing.

Look, I’m used to being broke. Wear my parents’ old clothes, buy store brands, don’t drive anywhere you don’t absolutely have to, and that sort of thing. I STILL can’t drive the pickup because the next time I do it will hit empty and I haven’t been able to afford gas. It’s annoying, but I just shrugged and figured I’d get a few gallons with whatever cash I had left over after shopping. I’ve been saying that for two months now. But it hasn’t upset me too much. It’s just how poverty is.

But screwing up, doing my math wrong, buying a spare ankle brace because it was on special instead of the two new ones I needed right now, knowing my dumbness might mean I lose my already crappy phone service…..

I dunno. It’s not even the stress and anxiety of it, it’s the anger at myself over something I can’t fix that gets me. Like, “Oh good, I’ve driven off a cliff and all I can do is wait and see if I survive the crash.”

**sigh**

Well, someone sent me $5 through Kofi I still haven’t transfered to my bank account. That’s a start. Maybe I should go hunting for spare change in the parking lot. I won’t find $30, but every penny really does count…..

So if anyone likes my photos and/or sculpting feel free to tip or use my ko-fi once in a while. (If my tech cooperates I will add some fresh pics to my ko-fi page)

I hate to even write that, and I do NOT want anyone to feel pressured. As long as my tech holds on by it’s fingernails and I can keep my internet I will keep posting, and besides, I’ll figure something out or get lucky maybe. It’s all so humiliating.

But still, to remind folks:

Thanks for letting me vent.

#my day #poverty #money #I feel like such an idiot!

[dawn8080]

Alright, rant time! And yes; it’s about dreaded love.

BACKSTORY! Ive only had 2 romantic partners my whole 18-almost-19 years of life. I started dating my first partner, let’s call him K, on June 26th 2023. We broke up December 7th. He told me he was 19, going on 20 years old; he was 17 goin on 18. Understandably as someone who’s been groomed and also, yk, THE FACT HE LIED FOR 6 MONTHS over this made us split up. During our time dating though I had a friend named… let’s say T. I let K and T meet early on in my relationship; my best friend and my boyfriend, I’d hoped they get along.

Nope.

T used me as an emotional drop off of sorts and I was basically his only half decent support system. K didn’t really do emotions at all so like… hella different. T liked online rp and I indulged in it with him cause why not. He often rp’d snuggling with me and whatnot but it always stayed platonic. Until it got more suggestive, or unless he was having like a mental break of sorts. He rp’d trying to kill me once! K liked bossing me around, or leaving me on read for 6+ hours in favor of shows, friends, games… yeah. I wasn’t too satisfied. Anyways we tried a poly for NOT EVEN 12 hours. Within the first 5 minutes of all 3 of us consenting to trying a poly relationship, I’d went off to make dinner or some shit I don’t recall exactly what, BUT THOSE TWO ALREADY STARTED RP’ING SEX. Obviously I was hurt, because like it was THAT quick, and no one came to me about it, and then when T wanted his turn with me later that night I was like “sure why not” and we got a begrudging consent from K. I’d tried reaching out to K many times that night, he just kept ignoring me. Eventually that fell Al the fuck apart and it was so that K and T didn’t talk and I was middle manning. K left T ghosted, T got upset and I never brought it up to K (my bad, totally in the wrong there). Eventually my patience with the whole situation runs out and I drop T. Completely. I stay with K.

A few months later I break up with K. During my relationship with K, I still miss T and wonder how he’s doing, wishing I could get a hold of him without raising alarms anywhere because I miss my friend. A month after K and I break up I check my calendar; T’s birthday is in a couple days. I still have his number. I wait and text him happy bday on the 5th of January, and he’s utterly shocked I got contact with him again. Even more shocked K and I broke up. He says he doesn’t blame me; it was a crappy situation and I just chose to stay loyal to my man. He said he respected that. He tells me he’s in therapy now. And we keep talking. January 8th, we try dating again.

This has been the most emotionally fulfilling relationship I’ve ever been in, but also very… I dunno. Weird? Odd?? Like 2 months ago we weren’t talking but now we’re back to planning a future with each other (something we’d joked about as friends). I’ve helped him through a lot of mental stuff again already, but it’s worth it. But now there’s my mental stuff and I don’t wanna dump my shit on him but I also need to tell someone about it all but no one gets it.

[pennswoodsman]

You ever take a nap at 2 pm until 330 pm then feel burned out all freakin’ day? Yeah that’s me right now. I’ve felt pretty crappy all week. I’m currently sitting on my father’s front stoop here in what was supposed to be my home too.

A few nights ago I had a long phone conversation with Lauren. She told me she was on the verge of death again. Said her baby daddy m, who is supposed to be helping her with her every day stuff is leaving her to die. Took the kids with him and is purposely leaving her alone. She said he made her erase all her dating apps and said to their children “your mother fucks other men”. Of courses this appalled me. I gave her a sympathetic ear and calmed her down. Told her if only I asked her out when she was my waitress on one of the many times Bill and I were at Xandos all these years ago, maybe all of her troubles would be avoided. It was fun to fantasize for a minute. Yes, I know that means my and her sons technically wouldn’t be born but if instead we had the 2 sons maybe I can pretend it’s like Kevin and Nathaniel are still with me, just with a different mother. We ended the conversation with her telling me she loves my voice and it was so nice talking to me. That night I had a dream I was making out with Anna Harris. It was the first time we ever met and the sexual chemistry took us both by surprise and we were all over each over. When I woke up I realized Anna and Lauren look a lot alike, which is probably why it was Anna instead of Lauren in the dream. So skip ahead to the following afternoon. My sons are back with me after I was out all day running errands. I open up Facebook for the first time since the morning and I see Lauren had written like 10 updates. Mostly “I’m dying I’m dying” messages. But others were calling out her baby daddy for not being there. But she also called him her boyfriend. Another one sad she wants her family, which she specified was her children and their father, but added “(boyfriend!!)” to be by her side. Now, obviously the part about her sons being there makes perfect sense. But I was all like “wait…what?” Then I read more. Her other friends were saying how her baby daddy already told her where he was going and that they’ll be right back. Another one said “Why do you keep calling Mike out publicly like this when you already knew what is going on. You know what you’re doing could be considered abusive too”. I realized that I’m probably getting played. No wonder she “forgot” to call me a month or so ago so we could spend time together. And my trying to continue to be somewhat of a sweet talker was all pointless. Just felt like yet another disappointment. I know it’s not a big deal or anything but it’s just another bit of bullshit that got me questioning everything about everything she’s told me. ugh

I sometimes get depressed. I am trying to accept that I’ll most likely be single for the rest of my life. And let’s face it, if for. I other reason but because I’m a total slob and most women wouldn’t tolerate that. Kristan I’m sure would have broken up with me after a few months had I not insisted on coming to her most of the time. I miss her but I’m also kinda embarrassed that I told her I wanted her back and she flat out rejected me. And the fact that she brought up how “sometimes a girl needs a hard dick. No offense” wtf am I supposed to say to that?! I mean, I know it’s true. I’m not denying that part. It, was that really necessary to tell me? Ugh, I’m getting upset writing this. Mostly because I can only work with what I have and even though I would give her multiple orgasms every night we were together, it all comes back to having ED and therefore I can never really give her what she, and all women will ultimately want. Maybe she mostly remembers how I couldn’t get an erection for real sex more than half the times we were together. I dunno. But we broke up in February and I haven’t done anything with anyone since.

I still get flashes of anger at Dawn. But it’s not so much all the cheating anymore. It’s just the lie I lived that I have still not been able to re-create (or what I thought I had) in any shape or form. Grant it, I don’t want to be married again, or really live with another woman. and yes, I am a pain the ass to live with too (another reason I don’t want to live with another woman. Because I don’t want her to dump me out of disgust) and I have plenty of bad habits and I never blamed Dawn for being pissed at most of the things that pissed her off. Which is why I get anxiety thinking how I’ll die alone and be forever fixated on finding a woman. It’s my worst trait…I mean, as far as my mental health is concerned.

Anyway, I want to end this boring cliche rant of mine with a shot of the last woman I met via OLD. This was today, actually. Heh…I probably will never hear from her again considering how the conversation went…which is fine with me! Lol

[heavens-bookshop]

Marine Biology: Processes, Systems, and Impacts

“No no no,” Crowley said, slamming his empty wine glass on the coffee table to emphasise his point. Or at least he attempted to slam his glass. They'd had an absurd amount of champagne over their celebratory lunch at the Ritz, and had then retired to the bookshop in order to begin diligently working their way through Aziraphale's wine collection. His dramatic slam was more of a clumsy fumble that nearly sent the glass flying towards the floor.

“I’ve already told you this.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him from the other end of the sofa. He wobbled a bit before slumping into the leather. “Have you?”

Crowley made a garbled sound in the back of his throat. “Yes!” he said, gesturing wildly. “Sitting in this very spot! Eleven years ago!”

"I see. And, erm, what exactly was it you'd already told me?"

"Dolphins are not fish, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale blinked very slowly. "Of course they are. They live in the sea, don't they?"

"That's… Do you think everything that lives in the sea is a fish?"

"Well obviously! Fish in the sea, birds in the sky. Those… what d'you call them. Big horrible things with hooves."

"Horses."

"Horses. Walk around on the ground. This is all very basic, Crowley."

Crowley tried to look annoyed, but the entire endeavour was made difficult by the fact that Aziraphale's cheeks had turned a rather charming shade of pink from the alcohol.

"Plenty of… not-fish live in the sea. Turtles. Penguins. Snakes."

Aziraphale's eyes became very round. Crowley decided he looked like a drunken owl. It was stupidly adorable. "Snakes live in the sea?"

"Some of them do. Sea snakes."

"Now you're just trying to trick me," he said with a petulant frown. "Sea snakes, really. What kind of soft-headed fool do you take me for?"

With an exasperated sigh, Crowley pulled out his phone and punched 'banded sea krait' into YouTube.

"Here, look." He passed the phone to Aziraphale, who watched in rapt silence as a video of a black and white snake undulating along a coral reef played on the screen.

"Oh, what a handsome creature," he said, a touch too breathless.

"If you go in for stripes, I suppose," Crowley muttered, snatching the phone back testily. He scrubbed his hand over his face to compose himself. "But there you go, snakes in the sea. And snakes aren't fish. D'you think I'm a fish?"

To Crowley's complete and utter shock, Aziraphale started giggling. "I don't know, you might be." And then he started laughing harder. "Especially when you sit there with your mouth hanging open like that."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "For someone's sake, you're lucky I love you so much."

Aziraphale's laughter choked off abruptly. He sat very still and stared at Crowley, blue eyes glittering in the dim light of the desk lamp that sat next to the sofa. 

"You what?"

Crowley very suddenly wished he could slither off into the ocean.

"I…"

A very lovely and very silly smile spread across Aziraphale's face. "You love me." It was almost teasing.

Before Crowley could say anything, Aziraphale leaned into him and pressed their lips together in a very sloppy kiss. Crowley made a small noise of surprise before his brain finally caught up and decided to reciprocate. It was graceless and wonderful and over far too soon.

Aziraphale pulled back, face distinctly pinker than before, and Crowley's heart did a small backflip.

"Erm, now might be a good time to tell you I love you too."

"Yes I think I got the gist of that, angel."

Aziraphale slumped forward into Crowley's chest and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Despite your outlandish views on animal classification."

Crowley hugged him closer and dug his nose into soft blonde curls. "You know, on second thought, I'd like to rescind my earlier confession." 

"You're my favourite fish, Crowley."

"Shut up," he said, barely able to contain his enormous grin and finding he was no longer all that fussed over the finer points of marine biology.

#my fics #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #azcrow #in which the author is a long suffering marine biologist #i dunno i have had a crappy few days i needed to get this out of my system #ficlet

[rina-writes]

House Call

Summary:  You get a call in the middle of the night from Neelam saying Jack needs you and you come to the rescue.

Warning: Fem!reader, 18+ soft smut (oral male!receiving oral fem!receiving, squirting, penetration) fluffy

You looked at the text message on your phone and then back at the hotel room number.  This was definitely the right room, but no one was answering the door.  You briefly wondered if this was some kind of prank, but you knew Neelam wasn’t like that.  If she was calling you at 11pm because she thought Jack needed you, it was serious. As his manager and his friend, Neelam sounded incredibly concerned when she explained that an Uber would bring you to Jack’s hotel in a few minutes.  You weren’t completely sure if it was because you were Jack’s only fling in the area.  But, Jack never outsourced his booty call before. 

You knocked on the hotel door a couple times.  You made sure to hit your knuckles against it harder this time.  If Jack had spoken to you through the door you definitely couldn’t hear him.  The sound of your heart thundering in your chest was deafening.  You swallowed on nothing as the seconds ticked away.  

The door swung open, the light from the expansive hallway illuminating the room.  The room wasn’t completely dark, but the lighting was low.  There was only a single light on giving it a warm, bronzy glow.  Jack stood slightly behind the door to give you space to walk in.  He looked tall and wide standing there.  He had a grin on his face, showing the top row of his straight teeth.  There was the ghost of his dimple on his cheek, threatening to pop out more with just the right quip that would make Jack laugh. He had a nervous habit of stroking his chin and tugging on his chestnut colored beard when he didn’t know what to say. You bit your lip worried he would pull it off.

You stepped toward him and rested your hand on his wrist. He stared down at his own fingers, loosening the grip on his beard before letting his pale blue eyes dance toward yours.  You swallowed.  His eyes looked so sad.  The smile that had stretched across his face didn’t make it to his eyes and it created a gnawing feeling in your chest.  Jack let go of the door causing it to slam shut.  He pulled you into a tight hug, bending to put his face in the crook of your neck.  You hugged him back, blinking with wide eyes.

His body felt heavy in your arms.  Like he was leaning on you and letting go of everything he was holding inside. You held him tighter, trying to prove that you could hold him up.  Jack responded by wrapping his arms around you even tighter. You both stayed like that for awhile. You glanced around the room, trying to ignore the way your heart was quickening each time Jack’s breath tickled your neck.  His smell was intoxicating - a mix of his cologne and his hair products from his curls being pressed into your face.  

“Are you okay, Jack?” You asked, your voice coming out a bit shaky.

“I’m better now that you’re here…” He mumbled against your skin.  He straightened his back, staring at you with tired eyes.  “...I’m so glad you’re here.”

You could feel yourself getting shy under his gaze.  You forced a smile that you were sure came out wobbly from trying not to cheese too hard. “Neelam called me to come over.  She said that you needed me right now. I thought that was a little…I dunno…random.”

You laughed awkwardly.  Jack pulled back and frowned at you slightly.  Now, your chest was pressing against him and you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.  He reached under your chin to tilt your head back with the help of his curled, manicured index finger.  He was staring down at you through his long, brown lashes.

“She called you because I asked her to.” Jack clarified.  “I was having a crappy day and you were the only person I wanted to see.”

You blinked a couple of times as his words settled in.  Just as realization crashed into you, Jack pressed his lips to yours, muffling your response.  His lips were pillowy soft in contrast with the strength of their movement. He nipped and pulled at your lips, turning his head to the side periodically to devour more of you. His lips parted and yours followed suit, deepening the kiss and letting your tongues intertwine.  You moaned quietly into his mouth.  A growl, burrowed in the back of Jack’s throat, vibrated through you in response. 

Jack pulled you more into the hotel room and away from the door while not breaking the kiss.  You felt like you were chasing his lips, moving to match his speed. Your body was clamoring for the heat emitting from his, even the smallest distance seeming too much. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips despite the fact that your skin felt like it was on fire.  Jack was smiling as well making it harder for your lips to stay together as both your feet zig-zagged across the room.

This wasn’t the first time you kissed Jack.  If you decided to sleep together tonight, it wouldn’t be the first time for that either. Like many of Jack’s female friends, you and Jack had a flirtatious relationship.  You both met through a mutual friend at a party, hooked up a few weeks later, and then kept in casual contact.  You would be lying if you said that you didn’t notice Jack was reaching out to you more lately.  Usually your correspondence was limited to sexy photos and asking if you were both in the same city.  In the past couple of months, the topic of conversation opened significantly. He would ask you about what you were doing, ask about work/school, and check in on friends or family you referenced in previous conversation.  

The biggest shift was last month when Jack called you to ask you about some song lyrics he had written.   At the time, you had mixed feelings about it.  You were so used to FaceTime being sexy time that you felt stupid for delaying his call so you could change into something more “appropriate”.  After commenting on how good you looked Jack went into reciting his lyrics and gauging your reaction. There was no melody so, it was like going to a poetry reading.  If you were honest, it was a buzz kill.  You thought you were over the days of listening to a boy’s art to get some.  But you did your best to focus.   To your knowledge, Jack didn’t ask anyone outside of his label or PG for that kind of advice.   You gave him your sincere feedback, most of it positive and all of it constructive. He thanked you sincerely and wished you a good night before hanging up.  It made you feel special, but not in a romantic way.  As you laid back on your bed, you wondered if you had been officially friendzoned by Jack.  All of his female friends had warned you about it.  In fact, they thought it would happen sooner.  Regardless, everyone in Jack’s circle seemed to know it was coming and you had been preparing for it.  As best as you could.

When Neelam reached out to you tonight, you couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that you made still be in hook up purgatory. A welcome like this was an even bigger pick me up -- he was clearly still very attracted to you.  At the same time, you were confused.  Jack basically confessed that you were the only one who could comfort him in his time of need.  It caused the hope of a budding romance to bloom inside of you.  All this time, you had forced yourself to be content with your “promotion” from fling to friend, but girlfriend was something you never thought you would get from Jack.

And maybe you never would.  

This was Jack Harlow.  He chose success over everything else.  He had the lives and dreams of his friends and family riding on his back.  A romance just created one more person for him to take care of.  So, Jack opted for hook ups to take care of his needs without the commitment.  As much as you understood his side, you knew that if you allowed yourself to play this game of girlfriend responsibilities without a title, you would be the one hurt in the end.

You broke the kiss, fistfuls of Jack’s white tank top in your hands, and looked up at him. You wondered if your own eyes were as lust clouded as his.  His pupils were dilated as he pressed his thumbs into the small of your back. You were standing in the space between the arm chair and the bed.  Both were appealing options for what you had in mind.  As if picking up on your last thought, Jack leaned in to kiss you once more.  You pushed him back lightly and he frowned.  He looked like a little kid being denied his favorite treat. It was kind of cute.

“We should talk about what you said earlier,” Your voice came out hoarse.

“What did I say?” Jack smirked at you, once again lifting your chin.

Just as he was about to close the distance between you two again, you pushed him into the arm chair behind him.  You smiled triumphantly as he looked up at you in surprise.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Harlow.” You folded your arms as you peered down at him, relishing in his expression.

“Well, damn…” Jack laughed, his dimples finally making a full appearance along with his full pearly whites. He ran a hand through his curls and leaned back in the chair staring at you.  “Whatever you say, mommy. I’ll be good.”

His jean-clad legs were wide as he gestured for you to sit on his lap, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You obliged, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lower half into his jeans.  You were sure he could feel your warmth through your leggings and his low chuckle confirmed it.  His large hands gripped your behind through your leggings, molding it gently. You rolled your hips against him, giggling as he let his head fall back, his eyes rolling with it.

“Damn,” Jack conceded. “You got my attention.  But, if you keep that up and I don’t know if I’m going to remember my name in a few seconds.  Come on, if you wanna talk, baby, let’s talk.”  He was snapping his fingers to signal for you to go faster.  His face was scrunched in frustration, his eyes still shut.  You would think you were holding his family hostage the way he was forcing himself to focus -- not dry humping him.

You stopped grinding against him and you could see the flickers of regret and disappointment cross Jack’s features. His hands still remained on your behind, keeping you on his lap.  You chewed on your lower lip.  You had so many questions and with them all swirling through your head you worried that you wouldn’t make sense. The silence made Jack slowly open his eyes.  When he saw your face, his features relaxed slightly.  Jack reached up and gently pulled your lip from your teeth in the same manner you stopped him from pulling on his beard.  His eyes, dark blue in this lighting, had a tenderness to them.  

“What happened?” You asked him.  Jack let one of his hands reach up to your face, his fingers dancing against your jaw and down your neck with light touches.

“Nothing.” He paused for a moment. “Err...everything.? I don’t know.  You ever just have a day where nothing seems to be going right?”

You nodded.  Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to your neck.  As if addicted to the the taste of your skin, he did it again and again, each one coming faster than the last.  His facial hair scratched and tickled your skin, making you squirm in his lap.  He held you, not really stopping your movements, but keeping you from getting too far away from him.

“That’s been my whole week, until right now.” Jack whispered against your skin.  “And now that you’re here, I don’t even remember what all those little things were.” He laughed softly.

You sighed as his kissed turned to little nips, your fingers playing in his curls.  You felt tears sting your eyes as the sweetness of his words.  You were getting nervous.  You couldn’t shake this suspicious feeling that you were playing a game, but weren’t quite sure of the rules.  And that, somehow, you were already losing.

“Jack, why me?” You asked him, your voice coming out so quietly you worried that he didn’t hear you.

He pulled you close to him, his nose in the crook of your neck.  “I wish I knew.  I just need you.”

“Like need me how?” You pressed him.

Jack leaned back and you disentangled your fingers from his hair.  He sighed deeply as he studied your features.  You couldn’t tell if he was trying to memorize them or read your expression.  He looked away from you as he spoke.

“I want to f-ck you.”  You felt your face heat up with embarrassment.  It was a mix of being embarrassed by his bluntness and how you foolishly thought he wanted something more.  

Jack continued, “But, I also want to hold you.  I want to laugh with you. I want to take care of you. I want to argue with you and then f-ck again…”

He laughed at that last part and you smiled at him in disbelief.  Your mouth was dry.  You licked your lips waiting for your response to enter your brain, but it was blank.  You were overwhelmed with so many emotions: uncertainty and nervousness at the forefront.

Jack’s smile narrowed as he saw the confusion in your eyes.  He inhaled deeply before speaking again.  “I haven’t been a relationship guy for awhile now.   I knew that us being casual wouldn’t last the moment another guy was willing to call you his, fully. And the thought of that just twists my stomach.”

“Are you saying you want to be in a relationship with me, Jack?” You asked him.

Jack nodded, his ears tinting red with a blush.  You smiled a bit, trying to twist your mouth to the side to hide your laughter.  Was he the one nervous now?

“Now, I know you are not asking me out like that, Jack Harlow.” You said pretending to be upset. “What is this lack luster proposal?”

Jack chuckled, his smile widening.  “Y/n, my jewel, my star, my light---”

“Alright alright, that’s enough.” You stopped him, cringing. You started to push away from him, but his hands only reached up to your back to pull you closer.

“-- my heart, my guide, my everything, my world--” He started to kiss your face as he thought of gushier names to throw at you. His laughter filled your ears simultaneously warming you.

“Jack, please, you got me. You called me on my bluff.” You laughed as you protested weakly.

Jack’s lips covered yours in a kiss.  It was slower and more sensual than your first one at the door.  It was almost like he was kissing you for the very first time. “Y/n Y/l/n, will you give me the chance of being your man?  I’m a little out of practice, but I promise to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Yes, Jack.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jack gripped you tightly as he rested his forehead against yours.  Your faces were so close you could barely make out the blue in his eyes, but you could see that they were sparkling.  He crashed his lips against yours and you reluctantly pushed him back into the chair.  His brows furrowed in confusion, worried that he had done something to hurt you.

“I’m going to show you Mr. Out of Practice, how to properly make love.”  You smiled at him reassuringly.  You pressed a kiss into his temple, slowly moving down the side of his face with light, but purposefully kisses as you spoke, “I’m going to take care of you tonight.”

Jack swallowed, leaning his head back in the chair.  This gave you more access to his chin, his facial hair tickling your lips as you went down to his neck.  Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he gripped the arms of the chair.  Your lips worked down to his shoulders, making sure to kiss each sienna brown freckle dusted there. Your hands slowly rubbed circles into his chest, feeling his taut muscles underneath.  He was lean and not too buff causing your fingertips to bounce back with a bit of pressure.  You slipped your hands beneath his tank top and he raised his arms to help you pull it over his head.  You scooted back as far as you could on his lap to kiss his chest.  

Your hands roamed his torso and soft sighs escaped Jack’s lips as he relaxed into your touch.  You pressed soft kisses on his nipples, while not as sensitive as yours, they still elicited a quick huff from his lips.  You played with them gently, nipping the skin all around his chest.  You were careful not to leave hickeys, knowing he was showing more skin lately.  As much as you wanted to mark him, you knew it would be something you both would regret the next day.

You looked at up at him, please to see his calm expression.  Jack always seemed a little tense so seeing him like this gave you a sense of accomplishment.  You sat up to kiss his lips. He responded instantly, his lips parting to let you taste him.  Your eyes fluttered close and you played with the curls at the base of his neck, giving a little tug every so often.  His fingers drummed against your hips as groans left his lips.

“How do you feel?” You whispered.

“Like I’m in heaven.” He chuckled softly, “I’m so bricked up…”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think it over as you slowly raised your body off of him.  

You bent down between his legs, caressing his thighs over his jeans.  Jack closed his eyes again, allowing himself to enjoy the moment.  You unbuckled his belt and he helped you pulled down his pants by lifting his lower half from the seat of the chair.  Once you had gotten it down to his knees, he lowered himself back down on the chair.  You took your time, unlacing his shoes, pulling off his socks, before sliding his pants down. Jack was subconsciously bouncing his leg with impatience. You kissed his inner thigh as you rubbed the outside, your nails lightly raking themselves through the hair on his skin.  You heard Jack mutter something about you being a tease, but you continued your slow ministrations on his other thigh, continuing to take your time.  

Finally, your fingers hooked around Jack’s waistband and you heard his breath hitch in his throat. You glanced up to see his blue eyes half open staring down at you.  His lips were twitching into a smile as his teeth dug into his lower lip.  This wouldn’t be the first time you gave Jack head, but it was going to be a time he would never forget.

You freed his member by pulling down his underwear just enough.  It slapped him against the stomach and he grunted. It twitched lightly in the cool air and you cleared your throat to hide your excitement.  You reached out and grabbed it firmly so you could keep it still as your bent down to lick the tip.  Jack grunted, his hands finding purchase in his own hair as he endured your kitten licks on his sensitive, bright red head. You slowly worked up to rolling your tongue around the tip and then, finally sucking it gently.

Jack swore like a sailor, one hand on the back of your head and the other still in his hair as you took more of him in.  The part of his sex that weren’t in your mouth was being gently massaged by your hands that used your saliva as lubricant all the way down.

“Your mouth is going to be the death of me…” Jack choked out between moans.  “...you’re so good.”

You hummed in response causing his hips to buck towards you.  You used one of your forearms to press them down, still using both hands to pump his member. Using your thumbs, you gently ran up and down the vein on the underside of his cock earning a few high pitched moans from Jack you didn’t know he was capable of.  Your eyes darted to his, surprised to see him looking down at you with a bright red blush across his cheeks.

“I’m already close…” He warned you once you made eye contact.

You nodded, bobbing your head and taking more of him in the process.  Jack groaned, gripping your hair tighter as he released in your mouth.  You closed your eyes as you swallowed, trying to keeping yourself from gagging. You pulled back slowly off his member, tossing your head back to let the rest of his release fall down the back of your throat.  You sat back on your heels as you looked at him, licking your lips.

Jack was shaking his head with a smile.  “You’re so damn beautiful…” He cooed.

You smiled and stood up.  “If I had known this was where this night was going, I would have worn something a bit nicer.”  You said as you removed your oversized sweater.  When your eyes locked with Jack’s again, he was staring you with admiration.

“You look amazing in everything…” He said, eyeing the lacy black bra you were wearing.  

You tossed the sweater on the ground before turning your back to him.  You bent forward and slowly pulled your leggings down to reveal your cheeky black panties.  They weren’t matching set, but at least they were the same color. Jack leaned over and gave one of your butt cheeks a hard slap making you gasp as you turned around, covering your backside. Jack grinned at you unapologetically.  

“I couldn’t resist.” He shrugged.

It was hard to be upset him seeing him naked, his underwear just under his member that was getting harder right before your eyes.  You backed up slowly until the back of your thighs hit the bed.  You sat on the edge and extended a finger toward him and beckoning for him to come closer.

Jack practically charged at you making you laugh as you fell back on the bed.  He hovered over you, a hand on either side of your head helped to cage you in with his large biceps.  He grinned at you and pecked you on the forehead.

“My turn, huh?” Jack asked.  “I guess I have to show you that I’m a pretty good student.”

You grinned excitedly, scooting back on the bed so that your entire body could lay flat on it.  Jack kicked off his underwear before crawling on top of you.  The soft kisses he laid on your body felt like torture.  You understood why he seemed a bit impatient earlier.  He kissed every part of your body, only moving fabric out of the way when his lips neared it.  He gently kissed the imprint of your bra strap on your shoulders before using his thumbs to massage them as his lips move down to your chest. He kissed every mark on your skin tenderly, leaving a few sloppy kisses when he just couldn’t help himself.  He reached back to unclasp your bra and you sat up slightly to aid him, wishing the fabric had been discarded long ago.

Jack cupped your breasts, kissing every inch of them and giving special to your peaks.  You moaned as he used his thumbs to rub circles around them, hardening them, then replacing it with his tongue.  Your core clenched around nothing at his actions, wanting him to take you at this point.  But, you knew that he was going to follow your example and do that in his own time.  Once you had his fill with your breasts, he moved down to your stomach, hips and thighs. You lifted your lower half so he could remove your underwear and he chuckled.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” He teased you.

“Yes, Jack, I am.” You croaked, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice.

“You want my tongue on you, mamas?” Jack cooed, slipping his a finger between your folds and your underwear only to snap it against your skin.  You sucked air between your teeth and he smiled. “You want me to eat you out? Get all your sweetness on my tongue?”

You nodded, knowing you probably had an embarrassingly needy expression etched on your face.  Jack grinned at you, pulling down your panties and tossing it behind him.  He spread your legs as wide as they could go and went face first into your warmth.  He gave a couple strong licks from top to bottom, staring at you as he made sure they were long and slow.  You hissed, griping his curls tightly.  He did it again, but this time he let the tip of his tongues slip past your folds as it grazed your clit. A shrill moan left your lips and you used one hand to cover your mouth.

“Don’t hide it,” Jack commanded, reaching up to yank your hand from your mouth.  “Let everyone in this damn hotel know how good I make you feel.”

You closed your eyes as you felt Jack’s tongue tasting your core.  He wasn’t afraid to get sloppy.  You could feel his nose pressing against your clit periodically as he devoured you.  Your toes curled and your thighs squeezed around Jack’s head.  He responded by plunging his tongue deeper into your core and slowly working two of his fingers in as well.  You could feel the pleasure building in your stomach.  Your head fell backward, your tongue rolling out of your mouth as you panted in between moans.  You wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling, but you felt numb.  The sensations from your core overcame any feeling coming from the rest of your nerves.

“I’m close, Jack…” You told him.

Jack looked up at you, meeting your eyes, as he sucked your clit hard.  His fingers continued to pump in and out of your core.  You were screaming now, unable to keep staring at those baby blues as you came undone.  Tears stung your eyes as you let out a pornographic moan that signaled your orgasm.  You felt a warm gush of liquid spill out of you and you gasped. It felt like a splash was rushing out, the only thing stopping it was Jack’s mouth. 

Jack continued to lap at your folds, not like he had much of a choice with the way your thighs had locked around his head.

Once you relaxed, your chest heaving, you finally released him from your grasp. Jack’s face was drenched in your arousal.  He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.   He grinned at you, “You’re so soaked. I think I’d have to eat for days to clean you up.”

You covered your face with your forearm.  “It’s your fault.” You swallowed.  “I-I think I squirted.”

“Ah…” Jack let out a cocky sound of acknowledgement.  “I thought that’s what happened. Don’t worry, you had pretty good aim. Went straight to the back of my throat. Almost drowned me down there.”

“Jack!” You yelled, holding your arm tighter across your face as it began to heat with embarrassment. You could hear him laughing.  He loved teasing you. You groaned,  “Please! I didn’t even know I could do that can you just…”

“Oh?” Jack’s voice went up a little bit in mock surprise. Even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had that cocky grin on his face.  “What I’m learning from this is that my precious girlfriend seems to like it slow and sensual.”

Girlfriend. That word seemed to cut through some of the embarrassment welding in your chest.  You loved that it was referring to you.  Even more, you loved that he cared about what you enjoyed.

“I like it rough too.” You confessed.

You heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and you moved your arm away to look at him.  You stared down to see Jack putting on a condom, humming to himself.

“That I knew from past experience.”  Jack looked at you and grinned.  “I’ll never forget that hotel balcony.  And I’m sure neither would the local residents.”

Images of you bent over the banister, Jack pounding into you from behind while his hand slapped your ass flooded your mind.  You were already wet enough without him reminding you of the moment you always relived when you wanted to get off quickly.

You sighed deeply.  “If you’re just going to make fun of me, I can finish myself off.”  You pretended to roll toward the edge of the bed.  You liked teasing him too.

Jack pushed you on your back and bent down to kiss you.  “You’re mine now.”

He grabbed you by the back of your knees and pressed your legs as far down as they could go into a mating press.  “I’ll try to be passionate, princess, but I think once I’m inside you, I doubt I’ll be able to slow down.”

“Don’t hold back…” You told him as you clawed at his biceps

“Suit yourself…” Jack grunted before plunging into you.

Jack bottomed out almost immediately.  He slid in like you were made for him, sheathing him completely.  Despite his previous claims, he was able to keep long and languid thrusts.  He’d push all the way in and pull out to the tip and then do it again.  Your eyes watered again, feeling the pressure against your G-spot with each thrust.  You clenched around him, wishing he would just pound into you.  But, his eyes were filled with adoration.  

Jack was a good student.  He was making love to you.  It wasn’t the rough, animalistic sex of your flings.  You both knew you were capable of that.  This was showing each other that you could do more than that.  It wasn’t about just getting off, it was about being one with each other.

Your arms reached for him and he let go of your legs to lean into you.  You wrapped your legs around his waist as you captured his lips in a kiss.  Jack held you -- no he cradled you -- slipping his hands underneath your back, as he thrusted into you and kissed you deeply.  You were in heaven.  You two were completely intertwined, sliding against each other in perfect rhythm.  Jack would occasionally leave your lips only to shower your face with kiss and whisper sweet nothings in your ear before kissing you again.  

Once you started to clench around him more, he quickened his speed.  He reached a hand between you two to play with one of your breasts, his mouth still covering yours.  You felt trapped under his spell, your body contorting to his as your orgasm washed over you.  You tossed your head back, letting out loud moans that Jack only encouraged by egging you on.  

“Oh god, Jack!” You screamed as you pressed your fingernails into his back.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Jack chanted pounding into you, his own release coming at the same time.  He held you, kissing you deeply once more before collapsing on top of you.  Your body was still coming down from your high and you enjoyed the weight of him on you.  Your breathing began to calm and Jack pulled out and rolled off of you in a single motion.  

“Well?” Jack asked in a breathy voice.  “How was my love making?”

“Fantastic.  Best student ever.” You giggled.  You sat up and eyed his cock. It was soft, but it wouldn’t take long for that to change.  “How many more condoms do you have?”

“Quite a few…”Jack gave you a smirk.  “Why?”

“I want to do it…quite a few more times then.” You said, crawling on top of him.  “That was lesson one, you have a lot more to go…”

~ After a couple more hours of intimacy and a steamy shower to “clean up”, you were laying in bed with Jack.  He was the big spoon and was running small circles on your stomach.  With all the lights off, the only light was from the street lights coming in through the curtain.

“I really needed you today…” Jack said, sleepiness heavy in his voice.  “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m glad I could be here for you, Jack, now and in the future.”  

Jack pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.  “I’m the luckiest man in the world right now.”

“I’m the lucky--” You felt Jack pull you in closer, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back.  You heard his breath deepen, the exhales through his nose sounding a bit heavier than before.  You smiled realizing he had fallen asleep. You wiggled out of his grasp just enough to grab your phone from the night stand.  After snapping a picture of his sleeping form snuggled to you, you saw a few texts from Neelam.

Neelam:  Please tell me he finally asked you out.

Neelam:  And if not, pretend I didn’t sent that. 

You chuckled softly at the three covering mouth emojis she sent in a row.  You felt Jack’s grasp around you tightening so, you knew you had only a few moments until your bear of a boyfriend pulled you closer for warmth.

You: Mission accomplished.

#jack harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #r-writes-fic

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Fixer Upper: Saving Dougie - Mechanic!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: When you’re beloved car Dougie breaks down you try and convince the world’s grumpiest mechanic to fix it rather than scrap it

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language! Grumpy Curtis!

Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / AU Masterlist

You were exhausted. It had been a long day at work. Yes you absolutely loved your job, looking after the sick and injured. It was incredibly rewarding but god it could be tiring.

You were walking through the staff parking lot with your best friend and colleague Mollie. It had become tradition for the two of you to exchange stories post shift as you walked back to your car.

“You really should scrap that piece of junk” Mollie comments nodding to your car.

It stuck out like a sore thumb in a parking lot full of nice, fancy cars. It was probably older than you were and it had more things broken than it did working.

“I know but I dunno me and Dougie have been through a lot, plus I don’t think I could afford a better car” you sigh shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s a death trap” Mollie states glancing over at you.

“But it’s my death trap” you point out making her roll her eyes at you.

“Right well as much as I’d love to discuss your crappy car some more there’s a bottle of wine with my name on it at home” Mollie says patting your shoulder.

“Have fun” you chuckle unlocking your car.

You throw your purse onto the passenger seat as you climb in. You go to start your car but all it does is splutter and die. You try a couple more times but nothing. Groaning in annoyance you grab your phone.

“Hey Mols, you wouldn’t happen to have a number for a garage would you?” You sigh when she picks up.

“Sure I’ll text you the number, do you need a lift?” she asks you.

“Yes please” you say hopefully.

“Fine but you owe me a bottle of wine” she agrees.

About 45 minutes of waiting later a tow truck with the name ‘Tail-end Motors’ on the side pulled up in front of you. A tall man jumps out of the truck with a huff before walking over.

“You the ones with the broken car?” He asks glancing between the two of you.

“Um yeah, that one” you say pointing over to your car.

“Hm shoulda guessed” he huffs walking over to it.

You watched as he popped the hood and started looking over the engine. He was covered in grease and grim, it was even on his face. However it just made his icy blue eyes even more dramatic. He tinkers with the engine for a few moments before going to try and start the car only for it to cough and die again. He sighs pulling off his black beanie running his hand over his buzz cut length hair before scratching his beard.

“I’m gonna have to take this into the shop to get a full diagnosis” He sighs turning back around to face you.

“Oh okay” you say nodding quickly.

“I can tow it in, do you have a way home?” He asks rubbing his hands on his dirty grey top.

“Yep, world number one best friend right here” Mollie says holding up her hand smiling.

The man just nods, barely acknowledging her. He looks back over at you making you gulp slightly under his cool gaze.

“Swing by the shop tomorrow and I’ll let you know the damage” he tells you.

“Um oh yeah sure thank you” you nod smiling up at him nervously.

He nods in acknowledgement before turning to move the tow truck into position.

“I’m Y/N by the way!” You call out suddenly ignoring the look Mollie gave you.

“Curtis” he huffs not looking over at you as he continues to work.

“C’mon let’s head home” Mollie says practically dragging you away to her car.

As you walk away you spare a glance over your shoulder at Curtis. You see him glance over at you, your eyes meet before he quickly turns away.

“You like him” Mollie smirks as you get into her car.

“No, I was just being polite” you defend shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure, I just can’t believe you like the grumpiest man in town when he’s literally your opposite” Mollie scoffs rolling her eyes at you.

“I don’t like him, he’s just interesting that’s all” you tell her.

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself” She chuckles shaking her head.

The next afternoon you made your way to Tail-End motors. You knocked gently on the door only hearing the sounds on metal clanging in response. You slowly push open the door and step inside spotting a small team of mechanics working away.

You try and spot Curtis but you couldn’t spot him anywhere.  You didn’t dare step any further into the shop either.

“Hey you alright miss?” You hear someone call out.

Looking in their direction you spot a guy who couldn’t be more than 18 years old.  His light brown hair was sticking up all over the place, a smear of grease across his cheekbone. You glance over his overalls spotting the name Edgar stitched on the pocket.

“Oh! Hi, um Curtis told me to come here? He’s fixing up my car” you say nervously running your hands down your yellow floral sundress.

“Oh right, he’s in the office” Edgar says pointing to a door on the other side of the shop.

“Cool thank you” you say clearing your throat.

“No problem just watch where you step” he calls out as you start making your way through the shop.

After stepping over cables, around toolboxes and avoiding puddles of oil, you find yourself outside the office. The blinds were pulled down so you couldn’t see inside so you just knocked on the door. Opening slowly and carefully opening the door after hearing a gruff ‘what’.

“Um hi it’s Y/N, you told me to come by today” you say poking your head inside the office.

Curtis glances up over his computer at you, a brow raised. He lets out a small huff as he gestures for you to come in and sit down.

“I’ll be honest with you, that car should have died years ago” Curtis says getting straight to the point, pointing in the general direction of your car.

“There’s lots that needs doing just to get it to start, and then more just to make it safe” he continues with a huff sitting back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is that mechanic talk for trying to get me to pay for more work than needed” you ask making him arch a brow.

“No, we don’t do that here” he states giving you a cold stare “plus my advice is just to scrap it, get something better”

“Really?” You ask slumping your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can give you the number of a good scrap yard, might get a bit of money for it” Curtis suggests.

“Is there really no way you can fix it?” You ask hopefully.

“I could but it would take a while, I’d have to hunt down a lot of parts that aren’t common anymore, you’d be without a car for at least a couple weeks” Curtis sighs shaking his head.

“Please, Dougie means so much to me, I know he-“ you start sitting forward.

“Dougie?” Curtis asks arching a brow.

“Yeah, named him after the dog I had as a kid” you admit sheepishly.

“I’ve had him since I was a teen, all through university and med school so I can’t scrap him” you sigh looking over at Curtis pleadingly.

He studies you for a moment, resting his chin in his hand, fingers running over his lips. His icy blue eyes finding yours for a moment before looking to the side.

“I’ll see what I can do, no promises though” he sighs dropping his hand from his chin.

“Thank you Curtis that means a lot” you smile thankfully.

“Just wait to see if it works, you’ll probably have to sort yourself out with travel while your car’s in the shop, curtesy car” Curtis tells you making you wince.

“I can’t really afford one, not if I’m paying for these repairs too, is there something here I could use that’s cheaper? I really need something to get to work in” you ask hopefully earning a deep sigh from Curtis.

He pushes himself out of his seat grumbling as he walked around to a small metal box in the wall. He opens it up and grabs a set of keys, tossing them over to you.

“Take mine, I live a couple blocks away anyway” he huffs sitting back down.

“Oh great thank you, you didn’t have to” you thank him, surprised at his generosity.

He just huffs in response nodding his head slightly, looking back over at his computer getting back to work.

“Um I’ll let you get back to it, here’s my number give me a ring when it’s ready or you want your car back” you say scribbling down your number.

Curtis nods slightly in acknowledgement as you slide the piece of paper over to him. You give him an awkward smile before heading out.

Once you were gone Curtis slumped back in his chair running his hand over his face. He had no idea why he’d agree to try and fix your car or ‘Dougie’ as you affectionately called it. But for whatever reason he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Hey you told the girl to scrap the car? We could use the space” Tanya asks wiping her hands on a rag as she walks into the office.

“No I’m gonna try and fix it” Curtis sighs leaning back in his chair, running his hand over his beard.

“Why? Its a heap of junk” Tanya scoffs shaking her head.

“I like a challenge” Curtis sighs glancing up at her.

“Or you just have a thing for little miss sunshine” she mutters under her breath as she walks out.

You felt incredibly guilty that Curtis was doing so much just to fix up your car. Lending you his just so you could still easily get in and out of work. You’d guessed it wasn’t easy to fix your car too since it had already been a week and you’d heard nothing.

You wanted to thank him and Mollie suggested you made him your famous choc chip cookies. You’d heard that Curtis often stayed late to work on cars so one evening after work you made your way over to deliver them.

When you arrived outside you could see the lights were on, meaning hopefully Curtis was still there. When you step inside you could hear Black Sabbath playing loudly.

Glancing around you spot Curtis bent over working under the hood of your car. It looked like he’d taken the majority of the engine out, various parts on the floor around him. As you approach you try and get his attention but he doesn’t respond, continuing to work.

“Curtis?” You try again getting a little closer.

He still doesn’t respond so you step even closer putting your hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He instantly jumps up whacking his head on the hood of your car, cursing loudly in pain.

“Ah fuck! Shit!” He growls clutching the back of his head.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry” you apologise quickly, jumping back from him.

“Shit, fuck that hurt” he grumbled wincing as he rubbed his head.

“Are you okay?” You ask him watching him pace back and forward in pain.

“Yeah fine” he sighs but you could tell he was lying.

“Sit and let me check you out, make sure you’re not concussed or something” you tell him, but he shakes his head trying to wave you off.

“Please Curtis, I can’t just let you carry on here alone if you’re potentially concussed” you plead putting your hand on his arm.

“Fine, but I’m fine” he sighs moving to sit down on a stool nearby.

“Thank you let me just grab my med kit” you say before quickly dashing out to grab it.

Walking back inside you grab another stool sitting down in front of him. You glance over at him but quickly advert your gaze when you see his scowl.

“Um can you tell me what your name is?” You ask him as you grab the small torch from your kit.

“Curtis Everett” Curtis answers with a small sigh, you hum slightly hearing his full name.

“Can you tell me what day it is?” You ask as you shine the torch into his eyes, checking their dilation.

He winces slightly at the bright light “Thursday” he then says.

“And what are you doing here?” You ask.

“Trying to fix your lump of shit car” he huffs making you crack a small smile.

“Well you don’t seem more irritable than normal” you comment making him arch a brow.

“Follow my finger” you tell him holding up your finger.

He sighs as his eyes follows your finger as you move it side to side, up and down. The only time they stray is when they meet yours making your breath hitch. As you looked into your eyes you swore for a moment his icy blue eyes seemed to become warmer.

“How do you feel, do you feel sick?” You ask him dropping your hand.

“No just feels like I whacked my head on a piece of metal” Curtis says with a shrug of his shoulders, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Sorry about that” you wince with embarrassment.

“Its okay, just wasn’t expecting anyone, why are you here anyway?” He asks.

“I um wanted to give you these, as a thank you for trying to fix my car and lending me yours” you say standing back up grabbing the tin of cookies from your bag.

“Oh um thank you” he says as you pass him the tin.

“They’re my famous choc chip cookies, best in the universe apparently but um you can be the judge of that” you say rubbing your arm nervously.

“Thanks” Curtis says with a small nod of his head.

“It’s nothing, um I better go, but you should take some pain killers and head home, if the pain doesn’t go or if you’re sick you should head to the emergency room” you tell him picking up your bag and med kit.

“Sure will do” Curtis nods.

“Good, um see you soon I guess” you say quickly heading out.

Once you were gone Curtis sighed deeply turning off the music and heading into his office. He dropped the tin of cookies down on his desk, grabbing a bottle of water and some aspirin. He sits down at his desk quickly taking the pills with a few large gulps of water.

He goes to pack up, pulling on his beanie and coat. Just as he was about to step out of the office when his eyes land on the tin of cookies. Without a second thought he quickly grabs one taking a bite as he locks the office door.

It was a couple weeks later that you got the call to say your car was fixed up and you could come in and collect it. You were excited to finally have your car back, even if you and your bank account were dreading the cost. On the way in you made sure to fill Curtis’ car with gas and even give it a good clean as a thank you.

When you stepped inside the shop you were taken by surprise when a little kid went running past you. Letting out a small squeak of surprise as he dashed past you, if you were stood any further he would have run straight into you.

“Timmy! Careful where you’re going” you hear Curtis’ stern voice call out.

You look over in his direction spotting him stood in the door to his office. He gives you a quick upwards tilt of his head in greeting.

“Sorry about him, he’s Tanya’s son, comes in when she can’t find someone to look after him” Curtis apologises once you’d walked over.

“It’s fine no harm done” you smile looking over at Timmy who was hiding behind a cabinet, giving him a little wave when he peeks his head out.

When you look back up at Curtis you see a small smile on his lips. However, it quickly disappears when he sees you looking at him. Wordlessly asking you to step into the office.

“Right here you go, all fixed up” Curtis says passing you the invoice.

The first thing you look at was the final cost. When you do so you realise there must be a mistake somewhere. You check the breakdown of costs getting even more confused.

“Sorry I think you gave me the wrong one, the price is far too low for what I must owe” you say trying to pass it back.

“No that’s yours, you’re the only person coming in today” Curtis says reclining back in his seat, running his hand over his knuckles.

“But this can’t be right, the parts must have cost more than this, and you haven’t even charged me for labour” you say shaking your head as you looked over the invoice again.

“Well your medical expertise saved me from a medical bill so I thought we could call it even” Curtis says shrugging his shoulders.

“I think you’re forgetting I’m the reason you got hurt” you point out, Curtis shrugging his shoulders once more.

“The parts cost is still far too low, there’s no way that the many parts you got in were this cheap” you say shaking your head.

“Its why we’re the best garage in town, now hurry up and pay” Curtis says putting the card machine down in front of you.

You sigh in defeat as you pay him. You should be elated that the repairs only cost a couple hundred instead of a couple thousand. But it just didn’t make sense to you, and you felt incredibly guilty that Curtis went to all that effort for such a small payment.

“Thank you Curtis I can’t thank you enough” you sigh gratefully as you swap car keys with him.

“Its fine, it was a good challenge, Dougie is round the back” he says making you smile at the use of your cars name.

“Thanks Curtis” you smile turning to leave.

You’d just gotten to the door when you heard Curtis call your name. Looking back at him you see him look almost nervous as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Um Timmy and everyone else really liked those cookies you made so um if you have any going spare I’m sure they’d love some” Curtis tells you making a grin grow on your face.

“Sure, I’ll drop another batch over when I make some” you smile nodding your head in agreement.

“Thanks, have a nice day” Curtis nods before turning back around towards his office.

“You too” you call out, smiling to yourself.

Maybe the grumpy mechanic had a soft spot after-all.

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Masterlist / AU Masterlist

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#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett fanfiction #mechanic!au #Mechanic!curtis #Chris Evans #chris evans characters

[ragingbookdragon]

I’m Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 7

Batfamily x Batsis Story

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Anyone order a part seven? Cause I got a part seven for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Ever since the meeting that night, she’d gotten more letters from her family than she’d ever received in twenty-one years. Not that she decided to read them. The first line from Dick’s letter was, ”I never wanted you to leave because of me. If only I’d known…”. She couldn’t keep reading, and she wasn’t sure if it were from guilt, sadness, or anger, but there was something there that she didn’t want to face.

It didn’t stop there though. They kept coming even if she tacked a return to sender on it and sent it back. She’d even labeled one and written, ”Stop writing me.” but that didn’t stop them. Wally texted her every other night on top of the letters and she wanted to strangle him through the phone.

She knew though, that if she could keep holding out for three more months, she’d be home free. Wherever home was at this point. Every city she kept thinking about had some type of vigilante and there was nothing that didn’t; eventually she decided on Coast City. Somewhere warm and sunny, and as far from Gotham and Central as possible.

Of course that little voice in the back of her head just kept telling her to talk to them, but she was going to be as stubborn against it as possible—but time was dwindling, and so was her resolve.

***

“Ophelia, have you seen the extra bag of espresso beans? I can’t remember where you put them the other week.” She waited for a response. “Ophelia?” she turned and frowned. “Why did I accept the manager’s position when I can’t even round up my workers?”

She walked out of the storage and wiped her hands on the rag at her waist. “Ophelia?” A giggle sounded at the counter and when she walked out, her eyes went wide at the sight.

Jason was leaning against the counter with that smile he used to use on the models at the galas. He smiled at Ophelia. “Tell me, what do you make better, the cappuccinos or lattes?”

“Well, I make a —”

“She makes a mean ‘get in the back and find my espresso beans’,” she grunted and both of them jumped.

“Melisandre!” Ophelia stuttered, pale cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you were in the back.”

“I was. Think you can go find the coffee beans you put away?” She shot Ophelia a stare that screamed ‘scram’ and the girl nodded, hurrying to the storage room.

“Aww, why’d you run the cutie off, Melisandre?” Jason queried. “I was going to ask her out on—”

“Can I talk to you?” she interrupted, voice barely containing her seething rage. “Outside.”

Jason shrugged and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Sure, but be careful, people might get suspicious.”

She grunted and walked outside, listening to him follow and when the door shut, she turned around and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just getting coffee.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Jason. We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed and he noted, “You’ve really gotten comfortable using foul language. You know that, (Y/N)?”

She glared at him. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“You won’t answer our letters,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of options to talk.”

“And showing up at my job is the better option?” she griped.

“It was that or your house, (Y/N). Take your pick but you can’t have both.”

“Well, maybe my silence is supposed to be the answer to those letters. Did you think about that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But after the third letter being rejected, I decided to go big or go home.”

(Y/N) growled. “Go home.”

Jason smirked. “No.”

“I’m not fucking joking here, Jason. I don’t want you coming here. Ever.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he retorted then stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t wanna talk willingly, fine. I’ll make you talk to me. And if I have to show up here every day, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jason cocked a brow and tightened his grip. “You wanna bet? Because I’m not Dick and I’m sure as hell not Bruce. I don’t have a day job to get to.” He smirked. “I can do this all day.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a moment then sighed and yanked her arm away. “Fine. Come to my apartment after five. We’ll talk there.”

“Thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted coldly. “I’m agreeing for one meeting and then you fuck off back to Gotham City and leave me the hell alone for good.” She spun on her heel and started back for the door when his voice reached her, tired and pained.

“Do you really hate all of us? Do you really hate us like you make yourself think you do?”

(Y/N)’s feet felt like lead and she stopped, gazing at the glass door. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can find the apartment on your own. I know you’re good at looking for homes.” She slipped in the café door, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt.

***

Sure enough, a minute after five o’clock, her doorbell rang and she called, “It’s open.” The door opened and shut, and she looked up from the little kitchenette, watching the way Jason walked into her apartment, gazing around the empty living room.

“Shit, do you live in a home or a prison cell?”

(Y/N) grunted. “Nice quip. Come up with that by yourself?”

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as she prepared dinner. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken marsala,” she replied. “You’re here to talk. Start talking.”

“Are you going to be a bitch like you were the other night or can I ask about life in Central the last three years?” she shot him a glare, warning him, but he paid it no mind. “You going to school?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I go to Central City Community College. Take classes all week at different times.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“For now, general studies, but I’m minoring in political science.”

“Planning on a four year after you graduate?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her hands stalled for a moment. “I don’t have the money for a big school to get a bachelors.” Shaking her head, she chopped up the vegetables. “Figure if I can get a job in the area, I can scrounge up enough to start the process though.”

“Might take years,” Jason noted, and she nodded.

“Yeah, hard work usually does.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “What’s Cassandra like?”

He blinked, evidently not expecting that, though he recovered and smiled. “She’s great honestly. Kicks ass better than anyone I know.”

“Even Batman?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I’m sure she could wipe the floor with each of us if she decided to not hold back. Her mom’s Lady Shiva and her dad’s David Cain.”

“I don’t know who they are but I’m assuming from the tone that they’re not exactly the best parents in the world.”

“No…they’re not.” He agreed. “David didn’t teach Cass how to speak so she’s been mute all her life.”

“I’ve heard the few interviews she’s given,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s very eloquent when she does.”

“Shakespeare’s influence. And probably Emily Dickinson.” He smiled. “I leave her a lot of books to read so I can be her favorite.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Sliding the cast iron skillet into the oven, she sat at the crappy metal dining table, Jason taking the seat on the other side. (Y/N) scratched at the table. “Does Bruce like her?” she questioned lowly, and he nodded.

“Loves her like she’s his own.” He her with cautious eyes. “Just like he loves you.” Jason watched the emotion flash across her face, quick as lighting, a deep sorrow, then she was humming.

“Well, that’s good then.” She cleared her throat and looked at the clock. “How’ve you been? I hear a lot about Outlaws.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my band of renegades. Me, Roy Harper, and Koriand’r.”

“Remind me, those were Speedy and Starfire, right?”

He snorted. “Arsenal and Starfire. But yeah, close enough.”

(Y/N) got up and pulled two glasses from the cabinet before going to the refrigerator and getting the lemonade. She poured them both glasses and sat back down. “How’d you manage to wrangle two of the Titans into your posse?”

“Kori willingly tagged along, and Roy won’t leave me alone,” he griped, sipping his lemonade.

“Mmm…and how does Dick feel about you stealing two of his exes?”

Jason choked on his drink, spilling it on the table and down his chin. “That’s not—” he coughed. “That’s not what that is.”

“Uh huh, sure it’s not.”

“It isn’t,” he glowered.

“Riiiiiiight,” she drawled out with a grin, then took a sip and set her glass back down. “Figured you’d get Cass along with you. she seems like she’d be fit for Outlaws.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’d be better off with Tim and his Young Justice weirdos.”

“She non-lethal?”

“Mhm.”

They dwindled into silence until the timer went off on the oven and she pulled the skillet out and set two plates on the table. “You’re gonna feed me?” he asked as she handed him a fork.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Duh. I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.” She smiled sweetly. “But you have to leave afterwards.”

“Mmm…can I crash on your couch?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d try anyways.”

They ate in silence, occasionally speaking about their lives the last three years, and when the food was all gone and the lemonade drunk, he sighed and reclined in the chair.

“What?” (Y/N) questioned and he shrugged.

“Dunno…I’d like to do this again soon.” His teal eyes found hers. “It’s been too long since we were together.”

“Tread carefully,” she murmured, looking at the wall and he sighed.

“Sis, talk to me,” he begged. “Even if it’s just to tell me how much you hate me, just talk to me.” She didn’t respond and he sighed again, standing from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

“…I hate that you all put Gotham and every civilian before our family.” Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned, gazing at her, though she didn’t tear her eyes from the wall. “I hate that the only time I felt like anyone paid any attention to me was when we were at galas and even then, the attention was just for show. It didn’t matter because all anyone wanted to do was get the hell out of the manor and go on patrol. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t like any of you. I wasn’t a part of the real family.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate that I spent more nights sitting in a dark and silent manor than spending them with my family. I hate that I never had a normal family growing up where we’d go for ice-cream after school and attend school performances. I hate that I got stuck with a bunch of siblings hellbent on giving every piece of themselves to the world and they couldn’t take one night off to have a family night to save their lives. To at least pretend to be normal.”

(Y/N) finally took her eyes from the wall and he felt his heart tighten as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she breathed, “I hate that I was born Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter and I’d give anything and everything I have to be someone else’s daughter and sister.”

Jason’s mouth felt dry, and he didn’t have single thing to say to her and she whispered, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Jason?” she blinked. “Because that’s what I feel every morning I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks.

“Yeah well, I’m three years passed sorry.” (Y/N) nodded to the front door. “You should leave now.”

Jason nodded but his feet didn’t move. For a moment, he couldn’t move them, then he sucked in a breath and started edging back to the door. When he neared the door, he pulled it open and paused, looking back at her. “(Y/N)?” she didn’t answer but he said it anyway. “I love you. More than you’ve ever known.” He sighed and stepped out, closing it behind him.

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone at the dinner table.

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

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[fluffytriceratops]

I Miss You - Kenma Kozume

Note: Speaking of old fanfic imagines, I've decided to post a few of my hq ones as well. So here, have this kinda crappy but also kinda cute Kenma imagine! I love this bb~! Just some cute Kozume fluff because I was sad and craving it. Thanks for reading! <3

☽✩☾

He sat on the floor, back pressed against the couch with her laying on it above him. [Name] lay on her stomach as she typed away on her laptop. Currently working on a school project while Kenma played games on her PlayStation. He had already finished all of his homework and like always [Name] left hers for the last possible minute.

"Are you done yet?" Kenma asked, pausing his game and tilting his head back so he could look at her.

"Sorta," [Name] hummed in response, glancing over towards him with a soft smile. "Are you bored without me, Kozume?"

"I do enjoy your company, so perhaps I miss you just a bit." He teased in return. He spat falsehood, for he missed her company dearly. They haven't been able to hang out that often as of late, due to both of them being quite busy. [Name] didn't go to Nekoma, in fact she went to Aoba Johsai. They met through volleyball as she was Aoba Johsai's manager and they'd often see each other at tournaments and practices. And sometimes even training camp. Finally they had a chance to hang out when she remembered she still had a project she needed to finish before the weekend ended. Which led to where they were now. With Kenma busying himself with video games while she worked away. Normally he wouldn't mind, he loved video games. But he also missed her a great deal and now wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

[Name] giggled, "Just a bit?" She mocked, altering her voice to sound funny.

Kenma rolled his eyes, "Mhmm, just a bit."

"Liar." She snorted, returning her gaze to her laptop screen. "I don't mind though, because I missed you too. I just have to get this done first, and then I'm all yours Puddin'."

He sighed, "Can't you just finish it tomorrow? It's Saturday, you have all day to get it done."

[Name] giggled once more, [eye color] eyes flickering over in his direction. "I have a volleyball meeting to go to, I think we have a practice tomorrow as well. That'll take up a few hours, and then I'm babysitting for my cousin the rest of the day. I mean I could try to squeeze some time in then, but I dunno.. Those kids are trouble." Chuckling, she reached over and ruffled his hair. "Sorry babe, but I think I need to finish this today."

He swatted her hand away playfully and turned so he could rest his chin on the cushion. "How much have you got done so far?"

"At least half of it."

"Only half? You've been here for three hours already." He furrowed his eyebrows, and pouted a bit, which she thought looked utterly adorable.

"Two and a half, actually." She stated rather smugly, causing the boy to snort.

"Same thing." He muttered, turning over and going back to his game.

[Name] watched him for a few minutes before clicking her tongue, gaining the boys attention. "I'll tell you what, give me half an hour longer to work on this, and even if I'm not done, I'll come hang out with you. Kay?"

"Now you're making me feel guilty."

"Kozume!" She burst out laughing, sitting up and placing her laptop on her lap. Forcing him to lean forwards so she could let her legs down and causing him to lean back on them. Not that he minded, he almost preferred it, actually. [Name] leaned forwards as well and pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's fine, I don't mind. I'm sure I can get it done tonight, or even sometime tomorrow. Besides, I did come over here to hang out with you."

"I'm not doing anything tomorrow, so I can stop by and help you babysit your cousin's kids. That way you can definitely find the time to finish your assignment."

[Name] grinned giddily, nodding her head, "Deal." And with that said she returned her attention to her homework. Making sure to keep an eye on the time. Roughly after thirty minutes had passed, [Name] saved her work and shut her laptop. She stood up and did a quick stretch, smiling down at Kenma who had glanced up at her.

"Finished for now. I'm actually almost done." She said proudly, but instead of returning to her position on the couch she moved his legs, which were currently crossed, and sat down with her back pressed against him. Now sitting in between his legs, his arms wrapped around her, almost immediately pulling her closer into him. Kenma leaned his chin on her shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "Good to hear. I'm proud of you baby."

[Name] snatched up another PlayStation controller and signed on as well, "Black Ops Zombies?" She asked, smiling as he nuzzled his face into the back of her shoulder.

"In a minute, I just wanna be here for a sec." His voice was muffled by the fluffy sweater she was wearing, which was no doubt his. Now tainted with the scent of whatever soap and body spray/perfume she used with only a small hint of his cologne. He inhaled deeply, setting his controller down and closing his eyes for a moment.

[Name] didn't mind at all, she placed her controller down as well and turned around so they could embrace easier. Wrapping her legs around his waist and moving so she was sitting more on his lap. Her fingers combed through his hair as the other hand rubbed small soothing circles into his back. Kenma hummed in content, pulling her close and keeping his arms wrapped around her. One of his hands rubbing up and down one of her thighs, softly massaging the area.

"I missed you." He mumbled, pressing a few kisses along her neck and jawline.

[Name] sighed happily, "I missed you too." She cupped his face in her hands and brushed her thumb along his cheeks.

Kenma smiled briefly before leaning forwards and connecting his lips to her own. It was a soft and gentle kiss, something they both needed and adored. He pulled away after a bit, brushing his nose against hers. "A couple rounds and then we can watch a movie or take a nap."

[Name] grinned, "You wanna cuddle more?"

"I wanna cuddle more." He confirmed, flashing a grin in her direction. She laughed softly and pecked his lips before returning to her earlier position of being in between his legs. Picking their controllers back up, she began to set up the game as Kenma wrapped his arms back around her. He missed this.

☽✩☾

#haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shouyou #haikyu #kenma #kenma x y/n #atsumu x reader #kozume #kozume x reader #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #hq kenma #hq kozume #fanfiction #fanfic #writer #imagine #y/n

[harveywritings92]

MHA/BNHA: Shigaraki x reader with a phoenix quirk

You're quirk is called phoenix, like the myth if you die your body will burst into flames burning you to ashes, of course you don't stay dead within seconds a baby version of you will be reborn from the ashes, then you'll grow back to the age of an adult in the span of three to four weeks! It was emotionally taxing to your family who pretty much disowned you, save for your cousin Jin (Twice) who letting you stay with him, and somehow you're dating Shigaraki... who just accidently killed you.

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

A shocked silence fills the bar as everyone stared down at the pile of smoldering ashes that used to be a [y/ht] with pretty [y/hc] and fierce [y/ec] eyed woman by the name of Y/n, and their boss kneeling by the ashes crying looking at his hands while whimpering out apologies and that he didn't mean to... before running to his room, as this was happening, Toga disappeared and came back with Twice who looked around noticing everyone's somber expressions then joked, "Gee, who died?-read the room dumbass!" the room before his sight fell on the ashes. "Aw crap! not again!- did she order a flaming Moe..." he huffed confusing everyone as they watched the copy maker ask Kurogiri for a large towel and approached the ash pile.

Everyone watched the masked man reach into the pile which they noticed had started moving a little, after a few seconds everyone widened in shock their jaws dropped as Twice pulled a newborn baby girl out of the ashes shrieking like a banshee. "Hey there sunshine have a nice nap? - I got'cha! stop shrieking you damn brat!" He huffed carefully swaddling her in the towel then noticed everyone's eyes on him. "What?-dude really?!" Dabi was the first one to break the silence. "What the fuck? where hell did that kid come from?" he demanded pointing at the baby.

while Toga tried to coax Twice into letting her hold the baby.... which he kept just out of her reach. "Kid? do you guys need your eyes checked?-even a blind man could tell you who she is!" he showed them the little girl's [y/ec] eyes which were glaring at them all like she knew what was happening and was well aware of her surroundings. "No way... Y/n?!" Mr. Compressed exclaimed as the the kid rolled her eyes and huffed at them...

*Well obviously...*

Twice explained that it was her quirk she can't die, every time she's mortally wounded her body self-destructs then...reincarnates from the ashes. "She should be back to being an adult in about three weeks." that shocked everyone because they all thought Y/n was quirkless! "Someone should probably tell Shiggy." Toga cooed finally managing to pry the now infant Y/n from Twice but, wasn't able to cuddle the protesting baby for long as Dabi decided to do it, he took her from the blonde teen who pouted as the cremator carried Y/n to the back rooms before reaching the last room at the end of the hall; standing in font of Shigaraki's door.

The black haired man knocked. "Hey Boss, Open up!" he huffed only to be greeted by silence. "Look man I know you feel crappy, but ya need to open the door!" a muffled "go away" answered them as the scarred man huffed then thought of something he winked at the [y/hc] baby. "All right then, let's go Y/n!" Dabi shouted then turned around when he heard the door creak, Dabi smirked *too easy...* before looking over his shoulder to see a miserable looking Shigaraki staring at him suspiciously.

"What did you say just now?" the blue haired man hissed voice raw from crying, Dabi turned around giving his boss holding out the [y/hc] baby that was pouting. "I said let's go Y/n." the scarred man repeated Shigaraki's red eyes widen when he saw the infant in the cremator's arms, and was about to yell at Dabi for pulling this sick joke! 

until he saw her [y/hc] hair and her [y/ec] eyes glaring into his red one's with a clear message "*I'm still mad, you killed me over Mario-kart!*"  she humph'd at him causing her boyfriend to blink he was very confused, He looked at Dabi for an explanation. "I dunno, Twice said it's her quirk just ask him!" he huffed before handing her off to a frazzled Shigaraki who clearly didn't know what the fuck to to do! 

Shigaraki brought Y/n into his room put her in one of his T-shirts and sat her on his couch using throw pillows to keep her up right it was an awkward staring contest, as he asked her questions and she blink. (once for yes, twice for no)

"has this happened before?"  

{yes}

"more than once?"

[yes]

"Will you age like a normal baby?"

[No]

"how long before you grow up?"

*Y/n manages to hold up three fingers.*

"Three days?"

[no]

"months, [no] ...please don't say years. [no]"

"weeks?"

[yes]

Shigaraki relaxed but was still shaken up by this whole thing, and couldn't decide if he needed a drink, or go to bed... he opted for going to bed, and went looking for a laundry basket or something for Y/n to sleep in when he turned to look back at the couch he nearly had a heart-attack! when he saw Y/n trying to sit up on her own and started tilting towards the edge of the couch! The blue haired man cussed and had caught her as she was falling off. (he wearing gloves now don't worry) Shigaraki sighed in relief as held Y/n to his chest heart hammering against his rib cage.

 "Damn, those child safety commercials were right... it only takes one second!" he said voice cracking a bit as Y/n looked at him clearly offended that he called her a child.... and that he was clearly laughing at her! *just wait until morning then we'll see who laughs!* Of course the only thing she could do as a response was yelp "baw!" then blew a raspberry at Shigaraki who was checking his phone to see if it was fine for Y/n to sleep next to him? as she had clearly aged a few months, she started to crawling and tried to stand within the two hours that they were talking, the site he was on said it should be fine so long as she doesn't roll off...

The next morning.

Shigaraki woke up startled as baby Y/n wasn't sleeping next to him anymore! he panicked thinking she fell off the bed and  sat up looked around his room the paused when he set his sights on a little girl around 5-7 years old with waist long [y/hc] hair sitting on his couch watching Tv it was obviously Y/n, but that's not what caught his attention. "Where did you get those clothes?" he croaked tiredly eyeing the pink and black baseball-T and gray cargo shorts and blue flip-flops she had on.

"Kurowgiri gave d'em to me." Y/n said eyes still glued to the Tv, Shigaraki got up from bed and walked over to see what she watching. The news was running a story about some bartender in Ikebukuro with super strength chasing around some guy in a parka... 

Shigaraki turned his attention away from the Tv back to Y/n just in time to see her yank one of her teeth out! "Y/n!" the girl jumped and gawked at her boyfriend blood dripping down her lip. "Don't yank you teeth." he said sternly before turning off the Tv and taking her to the bar. 

Toga immediately tried hugging Y/n the little girl dodged and hid behind Twice; begging her cousin to make a copy of her so Toga will leave her alone, luckily her cousin obliged and Y/n could take a breath. "Don't yank your teeth!-naw, let her do it! It's so metal!" Jin barked seeing his cousin reach for her mouth; knowing what she intended to to do, the y/hc girl looked at him coyly before taking a seat at the bar or tried to, Dabi ended up grabbing her by the back of her shirt and sat her down on the stool next to him.

His eyes were glued to the Tv he was watching the same news story she was watching in Shiggy's room, everyone seemed really absorbed into it, *maybe they won't notice...* the [y/ec] child thought as she made sure no one was looking... "Don't yank your teeth." the cremator hissed as Y/n gawked at him, Dabi didn't even look away from the Tv! he just knew she going for it while everyone was distracted.  

That how Y/n's week went with adults left and right telling her to leave her teeth alone and let them fall out naturally, and they did, after Kurogiri gave her an apple... let's just say Y/n didn't smile much, was eating soup and smoothies for a couple days...

Week two the teenage week...

This Y/n was not too different from adult Y/n, except she actually like hanging out with Toga now... which creeped everyone out watching the two teens interact, talking about make-up, blood types and slasher films... and boys. Shigaraki was wondering if he should be worried when he heard the way his girlfriend talked about Hawks... But Kurogiri assured him it was puberty and hormones she'll forget all about the hero, and she did forget about Hawks.

Unfortunately, she seemed to have switched her fixation onto Dabi, who normally wouldn't mind the attention as he’d always had a small crush on Y/n, However that crush was on adult 'I take no bullshit' Y/n, not the little girl who stares at him all the time then runs away when he asks what she wants! He doesn't know how to deal with it, and he can't yell at her to piss off because She'll cry. then Twice will kick his ass! and Shigaraki will kill whatever's left! Luckily for Dabi this didn't last long! 

week 3 Y/n is back to normal.

The bar was completely empty, not a creature was stirring....... Well, Except for the two loud creatures that were screwing like rabbits in Shigaraki's room, their moans and groans echoing through out the base!   

end

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfic #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #dabi #jin bubaigawara #toga himiko #mr compress #kurogiri #league of villains

[angryinternetduck]

Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

���Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

#lol. never too soon to start celebrating halloween am i right !!!!! #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x you #halloween #halloween in august

[popculturebuffet]

Donald Duck by Carl Barks:  A Letter To Santa Review: STEAM SHOVEL FIGHT

Hello i’m jake, just a garbage man who reviews things about garbage birds and other such nonsense. And i’d like if I may to tell the tale of just how I decided to review this one. See I was reviewing the Super Snooper stories a few months back, one by Carl Barks that was an excellent satire of superhero comics and one by Don Rosa who says things like this without a hint of irony

So you can easily guess how that went. I used Fantagraphics wonderful Carl Barks Library for the review as it gave me crisp, lovingly restored scans that show his artwork in all his glory for lovely moments like this

So while going to the back to read the experts they hired to unpack barks work anaylsis of the work, which was helpful since unlike Rosa barks is sadly no longer around to give us his own personal insight, I found the image you saw above next to a story called “A Letter from Santa” that for whatever reason, despite being a christmas story, SOMEHOW involved Donald and Scrooge getting into a fight with construction equipment (I now know them to be steam shovels) for reasons I wasn’t going to have spoiled for me. I decided on the spot I was going to review it this holiday season. If nothing else, even if it was slow paced or had suprise racisim, it would give me the childlike wonder of two grown men trying to kill each other with steam shovels at christmas time.  And after a year full of series cancelations, covid escalations and general stupidity, I NEEDED two grown ducks fighting each other with consturction equipment for, as I found out reading this, incredibly stupid and petty reasons. I think we ALL need it after two incredibly crappy years in a row. Everyone deserves watching two ducks pound the crap out of each other. 

So with that I humbly ask you join me under the cut for two ducks fighting with steam shovels. And I guess some other stuff too. I dunno. STEAM SHOVELS. 

So we open with Donald and the boys gazing into the steam shovel, praying the steam shovel dosen’t stare back. It’s the day of Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve Day.. the Day of Christmas Eve? I dunno the syntax for that has always been confusing and infurating to me

Point is the boys are into steam shovels and are happy looking at one while Donald’s happy he dosent’ have to pay for christmas as Santa has it covered. This also higlights something intresting about Barks work: Barks geninely didn’t adehere to a strict continuity despite holding fast to his strong character work. Donald and Scrooge, once their characters were fully fleshed out, didn’t change much from story to story, but their situation varied entirely on what barks needed: Sometimes Donald would be on the brink of finacial collapse, sometimes he’d be stable, sometimes he’d be unemployed sometimes he’d have been working at this for some time. Same with Scrooge: Sometimes he’s fine othertimes he’s on the brink unless this latest adventure works out. It all depends on what makes the best story. And it works, even today, simply because the characters are so strong it dosen’t matter if one thing about the unvierse flips or not. It dosen’t matter if santa is real in one story and fake in the next, what matters is that it’s a GOOD story. While I prefer a strong continuity myself, I can appricate someone who can tell one off stories so expertly just as much. 

The Boys make sure donald mailed their letter and while he scoffs at them asking, a check for earmuffs reveals, to him only, that he didn’t so he dashes off. He decides he has to pay for it himself.. only to find out the boys want a STEAM SHOVEL. And Donald can barely pay the rent or put food ont he table. Asking him to pull as team shovel out of his ass is a lot. I mean for starters he can fit a lot of things up there but even Donald’s ass has it’s limits. Daisy found that out the hard way. 

So with no other options he turns to the richest person he knows... and when he finds out Batman’s broke nowadays he turns to the second richest person he knows, Scrooge. Naturally one jump cut later and the two are beating the piss out of each other, a sign of things to come, and it turns out Scrooge only got so angry because he thought Donald was asking for a steam shovel out of the blue, as he dosen’t keep track of the calendar. Look if he’s going to live a good two centuries, he’s got to get used to time being an abyss without his sanity snapping like a twig, that’s just thinking ahead. 

He gladly agrees, an interesting change from the penny penching ass he’d usually be, but one that fits: this is christmas and after the LAST TIME he didn’t give out good gifts on christmas resulted in him loosing his fortune down a crevice, he isn’t temping fate or santa’s well placed explosvies again

So Scrooge willingly forks over a pile of money.. but as Donald speeds out the door explaining the gift’s going to be from santa, Scrooge gets pissy in the way only rich white men can: he’s mad he won’t get any credit for his gift and plots to buy his OWN steam shovel, and get it to the house before Donald so he can get all the credit

We get a great bit of comedy as Donald tries to buy one from the yard, only for the guy to tell him it’s more for orders and you can’t just BUY a steam shovel.  He’s also annoyed that Scrooge shows up asking the same, so Scrooge simply buys the factory.. and the yard with the equipment, and that guy’s house and his kids and then moves the house to the bottom of a lake. 

So while a dog man learns to grow gills, we cut to later that day as it’s now Christmas Eve proper with Donald driving his steam shovel to give it to the boys as a christmas present from Santa, only to run into Scrooge’s. Donald finds out and is pissed botht hat his scheme is about dead.. and that Scrooge will ruin the boys faith in santa and well.. you know why i’m here, I know why your here. Let’s GET READY. 

TO RUMBLE!

So was this review worth it to finally see this? Did it live up to my expectations?

This is a short fight sure but it’s hilarious, brutal and gorgeously drawn. A petty fight with NEITHER side being that great (Donald wants to cover for his own lies and Scrooge wants credit for something he dosen’t NEED credit for), both being petty and the result being a mixture of comic gold and liquid awesome. I could end the review right here and now and I think we’d both be satisfied. 

So if you enjoyed this review check out my patreon

RIGHT HERE

Or come talk ducks at my discord server right 

OVER HERE BABY

And this isn’t working is it? Okay then, so naturally getting into a public brawl with heavy machenery gets the police involved and Scrooge and Donald get into court. But since Scrooge is rich he threatens to fire the judge if he puts him in jail and gets an easily payable one million dollar fine, even throwing in an extra million just in case they end up back there. Given Donald’s track record with petty crimes I say they’ll be back there by christmas morning over the turkey or something. 

Scrooge does suprisingly have a heart though and feels bad for screwing up, so he comes up with a plan to fix things. He has donald rent a santa suit, while Scrooge himself rents a sleigh with a reindeer, so Donald can play Santa, and thus bluff the kids by telling them he’s out of steam shovels. 

So donald even puts on a funny clay nose and heads down the chimney. His entrance is as graceful as you’d expect

I can’t say it enough Barks is a master artist... just the amount of detail in that last panel, how hilariously sneezy donald looks, the panicked sweat drops on the boys. Every inch of this is crafted to comedic prefection. It’s a level of skill few ever reach and few can match. 

The comedic genius dosen’t end here though as Donald’s plan backfires horribly: he just wants to dash away all before they realize he’s you know, Donald in a putty nose and rented suit, but naturally being a bunch of kids having met goddamn santa, they want to hang with him, give him lunch, show him the tree, what a real kid would want to do and what the kids reading this would likely be thinking. I know my younger niece would want to hang around santa a bit or get a picture or something.. or maybe catch him in a bear trap but that’s just her special way of showing she cares. 

They end up wanting to weigh him...

So he replaces the stuffing in his suit with beans and gets weighed sucessfully and the fact that’s not even in the top ten weirdest sentences i’ve written on this blog will forever haunt me. The beans end up expanding when they put him in a shower and he ends up trapped in the chimney. 

Scrooge naturally bought a second suit because he’s a clever old bastard. Naturally instead of you know, just going with the flow he instead brags about Scrooge. Before he can get to how long Scrooge’s... money bin is, Donald escapes the chimney and rushes in to kick his ass for being a selfish dick about santa on christmas. This leads to a fight, and Donald made the mistake of pulling the lette rout as the boys see it, see it has no post mark and we get... easily one of the saddest fucking things i’ve seen all year. 

Thankfully that punch to the heart dosen’t last long as Santa himself shows up just in time. 

So we get another great gag to finish things off as it turns out the boys naturlaly wanted a toy steam shovel, somethign Santa GLADLY provides despite donald forgetting to mail the letter, and after another fight Donald and scrooge follow the big guy out to ask him for a book on mailing letters. A great close to a great story

Final Thoughts:

Look Scrooge and Donald coming to blows with Steam Shovels would’ve been enough.. but this story then had to top itself with a great second half. On the second read I noticed how intricate the gags were and how fucking hilarous they were, and the result is a true comedy classic. While Shacktown went more for the heart with Donald’s noble quest to provid efor orphans, here it’s just a pure comic farce with a heartfelt ending. Barks art is at the top of his game with the steam shovel fight and his truly awesome santa design being highlights. If you can find this story read it, it’s in volume 8, trails of the unicorn if you were wondering which one. Check it out asap. It’s a really good christmas read. And speaking of christmas reads.. thanks for reading. 

#Donald Duck #Scrooge McDuck #Carl Barks #Huey Duck #Louie Duck #Dewey Duck #Santa Claus #Christmas #Holiday #Comic Reviews #Comics #reviews #disney

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto #hospital au #crappy romance novels #all the cliches