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python333 · 9 months

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bedbound — python333

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synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you.

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg.

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over.

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly.

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.”

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. “I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

974 notes · View notes

sohotthateveryonedied · 2 years

Note

What was Tim’s relationship with his parents like? It seems like they left him alone a lot, based on fanon - is that true?

Tim's relationship with Jack and Janet Drake is...messy. Very messy. There are a lot of misconceptions floating around about how Jack and Janet really were as parents, largely due to headcanons and fanfiction exaggerating their abuse/neglect of Tim. So, we're going to clear all of that up by analyzing how Tim's parents were as evidenced in canon.

From the very beginning of his time in comics, it's clear that Tim's parents are hella neglectful. The writers needed a Robin who would be able to do his crimefighting without the interference of parental figures, so they gave him rich absentee parents to achieve that.

Tim's parents mean well; they do genuinely love and care about Tim, considering that the first glimpse we get of them is the Drake family enjoying a trip to the circus together. At face level, they look like a typical happy family.

Batman #436

However, Tim's parents have a tendency to take long trips around the world for their job and leave Tim behind with the nanny. They were noted to be gone for long periods of time during Tim's Robin training, only keeping in touch with their son through halfhearted postcards promising to call soon. They also were prone to extending trips or leaving without warning, giving Tim very little input or notice when it came to whether or not he would be able to spend time with his own parents anytime soon. It got to the point where Bruce became suspicious of the Drakes’ neglect of their son.

Detective Comics #618

Robin #1

Robin #11

“I guess that sums them up! Never know where they’re going to be—or when—or even how long!”

Ah, yes, this is the proper way to raise your child.

So, it is firmly established that Tim’s parents are inattentive and neglectful. They love Tim in their own way, but not enough to be at home often and spend time with him, or to take him across the world with them. Granted, they are incredibly wealthy people with a large company, but…so is Bruce. And Jack and Janet don’t even moonlight as vigilantes, which doesn’t give them much of an excuse.

(I do think that comics tend to use Bruce’s relationship with Tim as a juxtaposition to show just how harmful Jack and Janet’s parenting is for Tim, such as neglecting his emotional needs, not respecting his privacy, etc. Over time, this leads to even Jack having this silent rivalry with Bruce over Tim’s affection. But I’ll get to that later.)

To contrast, here is Bruce offering to take the night off to stay with Tim and comfort him after his parents have been kidnapped:

Detective Comics #619

And Bruce has a reputation for being a questionable parental figure, which just makes Jack and Janet look even worse in comparison.

Then the Drakes are poisoned by the Obeah Man: Tim’s mother dies and his father falls into a coma. Janet’s term in comics was short, so we don’t know a lot about her personality or how she was as a parent, other than that she was not home often. When she and Jack were kidnapped, Janet seemed to express regret about her choices in life, possibly including not spending time with her son while she could.

Detective Comics #620

Otherwise, that’s about it for Janet. There is a fever dream Tim has when he’s dying of the Clench in which he imagines his parents both alive and knowing that he’s Robin. It’s a happy scene, with Janet preparing a home-cooked meal and being warm and present, which could possibly be Tim’s subconscious wishing that this was how his life could have been, but we don’t know enough about Janet’s actual parenting to do much with that. I personally choose to interpret it as Tim’s longing for the ideal family dynamic he never got to have, with both his parents home and acting like a real family.

Batman Chronicles #4

Now, Jack and Tim’s relationship is rocky from start to finish. One minute they’re getting along, the next everything is a disaster, over and over until Jack’s death.

After the Obeah Man incident, Tim is left grieving his mother and worrying about his paralyzed, comatose father. He continues to live with Bruce at Wayne Manor during this time, hoping for Jack to wake up.

Robin II: Joker’s Wild #4

Tim becomes conflicted over the fact that, with the Waynes, he feels for the first time like he’s part of a real family. Which is...very telling. But we already know how neglectful Janet and Jack were of Tim, so are we really surprised? The closest thing Tim had to a “real” family before Bruce was Mrs. Mac the housekeeper.

Upon waking from his coma, Jack has this great epiphany that he’s going to be a better father for Tim and right all the wrongs he made in life.

Batman #480

“I’ll make it up to you—starting tomorrow!”

With his father in a wheelchair and needing all kinds of medical care as he recovers, Tim feels obligated to move back in with Jack and take care of him.

Batman #480

Tim writes his dad a letter venting all of his inner conflicts and harbored resentment, saying that he never felt like he was part of a family before becoming Robin and meeting the Waynes. He wishes he could tell Jack the truth instead of hiding the most important part of his life from him, which causes a rift between Tim and Jack that honestly never fully heals until War Games.

Aptly, the letter is addressed, “To the Father I Never Knew.”

Batman #480

As it turns out, Jack Drake is deeply insecure when it comes to his place in Tim’s life. Jack has no regrets about neglecting Tim until he learns that Tim has a new father figure in his life, AKA Bruce, the resident Dad Supreme. Jack becomes jealous of Bruce, trying to get back into Tim’s good graces because he knows that, in comparison, he’s looking like a pretty shitty father compared to Brucie Wayne, the irresponsible playboy. Ouch.

Batman #480

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #3

This all comes to a head when Jack gets angry with Tim for acting out, cutting school, getting into fights, etc. In turn, Tim gets fed up and confronts Jack about his poor parenting.

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #4

“Who is the son you know, Dad? You don’t know me. You never bothered.”

By the end of the miniseries, they eventually work things out and apologize to each other. Honestly, the biggest problem Tim and Jack have when it comes to their relationship is miscommunication. They both want to be a real father and son, but there are too many obstacles in their way (Tim’s Robin activities, Jack’s inability to care about his son unless it’s convenient for him, Tim’s bond with Bruce) that keep them from having the close relationship they both clearly want.

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #4

Jack really does try to be a better father for Tim over the next few years, but he makes a lot of mistakes along the way. After being kidnapped (again), Jack tells Tim that he’s yet again going to try and be a more attentive father. (As if Tim hasn’t already heard this speech before lmao.)

Robin #7

Jack tries to spend more time with Tim, but his version of spending time together is mostly just springing new plans on Tim and giving Tim little say in any of it.

Robin #11

Robin #12

(It also shows how little attention Jack pays to Tim, since he doesn’t notice that his son has a literal six-pack and could probably benchpress his own weight by now.)

Jack eventually falls in love with Dana, his physical therapist, and she more or less takes up all of his attention for the time being. Tim once again falls out of the spotlight. Tim is partly relieved about this, since it means that Jack is less likely to catch on to Tim’s Robin outings with Dana as a convenient distraction.

Robin #12

Robin #15

Jack goes to all the trouble of making plans with Tim, only to cancel the moment something shiny and new moves into his line of sight. Great parenting, Jack. A+ work. Tim sees this as less of a problem than it is, thanks to his second identity, but any other child would be severely impacted by this “whenever I feel like it” method of parenting. Regardless, Tim and Jack’s relationship at this point is on its way to leveling out for the time being. They still don’t communicate very well, but they generally get along with each other.

After Tim runs away from home and causes a whole incident during No Man’s Land, Jack sends Tim away to Brentwood Academy, a boarding school literally in the same city as them, as punishment for being a lil hooligan. Just say you don’t feel like dealing with Tim anymore and move on, Jack.

Robin #74

When Tim is at Brentwood, Jack informs Tim that he and Dana are engaged through a phone call. Tim is not even an hour away, but Jack figures why waste a day spending time with his own son to tell him the good news when you can accomplish it with a phone call, right?

Robin #78

It isn’t long before Jack Drake goes broke due to his company losing money or however bankruptcy works, and Tim gets to leave Brentwood. Jack chooses this time to once again try to work on his relationship with Tim...

Robin #100

...and then slides right back into ignoring Tim when the loss of his fortune makes Jack too depressed to do much of anything. Not that it’s a huge loss, considering that when Jack does bother to pay attention to Tim, it doesn’t often go well. He has a reputation for getting overly aggressive when Tim acts out, and he has a habit of dragging Tim into obligations he doesn’t want to do for the sake of looking like a present parent, trying to exert control over Tim that he hasn’t quite earned.

(It’s also interesting the way Tim starts to question Jack’s decision, then quickly stops himself and agrees to whatever it is Jack wants, as if Tim has gotten used to being allowed to think and act for himself during his time with Bruce, and now he’s remembering that things are different in the Drake household. He has to go back to Good Obedient Son mode, and if that doesn’t make you sad then I don’t know what will.)

Batman #480

Robin #45

Robin #92

By the time Jack finally gets out of his funk, Tim (of course) forgives him immediately, so they’re back on track again.

Robin #116

(It’s also worth mentioning that Jack forgot Tim’s birthday. Yeah, he was going through his own depressive spiral at the time, but still. Dick move.)

Robin #116

Honestly, I owe a lot of the good moments in Tim and Jack’s relationship to Dana’s influence. She’s a great stepmother to Tim and she helps rein Jack in when he’s being an asshole. Her parenting style is far more caring and considerate compared to Jack’s, who tries to mold Tim into his idea of a perfect son: obedient, masculine, and quiet (whenever he feels like paying attention, that is).

Robin #122

Robin #127

Robin #45

Robin III: Cry of the Huntress #1

Robin 80-Page Giant (2000)

Where Dana is understanding and patient, Jack is commanding and rigid. Over time, Dana softens him enough so that Jack is more of a well-meaning dad clumsily trying his best than an abusive asshole, but still.

Jack acknowledging that he screwed up and is trying to fix his and Tim’s relationship has been a major plot point for years up to this point, and it remains a central part of Tim’s civilian narrative for as long as Jack is alive. Jack tries to fix what’s wrong between them, and Tim is eager to have a closer relationship with his dad, even if it’s difficult to accomplish due to his Robin activities. I repeat: They both want to have a good relationship. It isn’t that Jack simply doesn’t care about Tim (which, it could be argued that he didn’t care about Tim until Janet died). They both really do try to fix what’s broken between them. It’s just that Jack can’t accept that Tim is his own person, and Tim can’t risk compromising his identity.

Robin #71

For a small while, things are okay between Tim and Jack.

Robin #124

But pretty soon the inevitable happens: Jack snaps when he catches Tim in a lie about joining the football team to explain a black eye. Instead of confronting Tim about it, Jack decides the best course of action is to ransack Tim’s bedroom for evidence of his delinquency.

Robin #124

Jack inevitably finds Tim’s Robin gear in the closet. Instead of asking Tim about it, like a sensible human, Jack’s second genius move of the day is to go all the way to Wayne Manor and point a gun at Bruce’s face, demanding he return Tim to him.

Robin #124

(Personally, I think Jack’s reaction wouldn’t have been so violent if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Bruce, whom Jack was already jealous of for being closer to Tim than Jack ever was.)

Robin #125

With Jack threatening to expose everyone’s identities and ruin their lives, Tim agrees to give up the Robin mantle to keep Jack quiet.

Robin #125

After that, things between Tim and his dad are relatively okay. Tim is happy to be having a normal life for once, and Jack is appeased now that he has Tim all to himself.

Teen Titans #14

Then War Games rolls around and Tim once again dons the cape and boots to help in the gang war, and he and Jack finally have an honest conversation about Tim’s Robin activities. This time Tim isn’t just giving in to make his father happy, and he’s not struggling with the question if maybe he’ll be better off as a civilian, because he already tried that and he knows now that this is the life for him.

And for once, Jack actually listens to Tim.

Robin #130

They come to an understanding after that. For the first time in Tim’s whole life, he has an honest and loving relationship with his father.

Robin #131

Of course, this is about a week before everything goes to shit and Jack is murdered by Captain Boomerang during Identity Crisis. You win some, you lose some.

(What makes it even worse for Tim is that Jack asked him to stay in that night, but Tim chose to go out and help, so he wasn’t there when Boomerang came for Jack. Oof.)

Identity Crisis #5

In Jack’s last moments, he tells Tim that he loves him and that being Robin is a good thing and he should never turn his back on being a hero.

Identity Crisis #5-6

Unsurprisingly, Tim takes the loss extremely hard. It almost rivals Tim’s reaction to Bruce’s death, probably. After all, it’s his dad. Sure, Tim and Jack had their problems, but he was still his father and he loved him.

I also think a big part of it is that Jack was taken at a time when he and Tim were finally starting to see eye to eye. They finally had the relationship they both always wanted, and then a week later Jack gets murdered. I see it as Tim mourning the relationship he and Jack could have had, rather than the one they did. Tim never got to see what it would have been like to have a perfect relationship with his father because the second everything finally fell into place, Jack was taken away from Tim.

Identity Crisis #7

Robin #167

“Sometimes it’s for Bruce. Sometimes it’s for Conner. But a lot of times, I do it for you. Because you were brave enough to understand the man I wanted to be.”

DCU Holiday Special (2009)

Teen Titans (2003) #34

(Tim’s guilt and grief becomes all-encompassing to the point where he invents a fake uncle just to avoid being adopted by Bruce, but that’s a story for another day.)

Sooooo yeah, that’s about it. Tim loved his parents and they loved him back in their own ways, but he never had a perfect relationship with either of them by any definition.

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theminecraftbee · 11 months

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I'm really glad to have found the Hermitcraft fandom here on Tumblr, I've been a long time fan and it's awesome to discover all this great fanart and content and stuff. Any must-follow MCYT/Hermitcraft/Minecraft blogs?

oh gosh, welcome! in general i am BAD about remembering who i follow and who i don't; a great way to find who you want to follow might be to just go through the #hermitcraft tag and follow people you find funny, or, heck, if i reblog a lot of art from a certain artist you like (or not a lot, like one art even), go follow them!

while we're here, a few additional general etiquette rules (keeping in mind that like, this is tumblr, trying to claim ANYTHING is a whole-community norm is basically impossible i am claiming a norm from my specific circle of guys): do not crosstag, only tag things that are actually in your post. don't use the 'minecraft' tag, that tag is for people who like the actual game. (i mean, you can use it if you are posting about minecraft, but not if you're posting about the youtubers). it's generally considered rude to put your crit in the main tags, especially without tagging 'discourse' somewhere so it can be filtered. shipping should generally have a 'hermitshipping' tag on it for filtering purposes as well, but if something is tagged hermitshipping and you're mad about it just like, block them, they did the important part.

the hermits i know of on tumblr (could be more, idk): @/joehills @/pearlescentmoo @/falsesymmetry @/therealdocm77 (not actually active but has the account) @/geminitayyt. cleo also had an account but it is no longer active. also @/inthelittlewood is here and like very active, as is @/askzloyxp and @/quinnhills. as a general etiquette rule, just... act like they're perfectly ordinary tumblr users and continue your business as usual! and don't send them weird asks or anything.

off the top of my head, a few blogs i like, an EXTREMELY non-exhaustive list, find your own guys out there as well you won't regret it! like, you will find the experience you like best just going out there and looking for it yourself! i've absolutely missed a bunch of guys i love, let alone guys you would love! this is like 10 million percent non-exhaustive, i follow 1,570 blogs apparently, many of which aren't hermitcraft or mcyt related, but many of which are, so i just sorta. went for it. and when i was having trouble remembering if a name was a repeat that's when i stopped. so. non-exhaustive list:

@nightshadeowl, @jestroer, @astronomodome, @kingtheghast, @floweroflaurelin, @roenais, @silverskye13, @wasyago, @rusty-courage, @art-by-fate, @silverskye13, @redstonedust, @betweenlands, @sixteenth-days, @judas-iscaryot, @terracottakore, @cherrifire, @antimony-medusa, @hybbart, @made-nondescript, @luigra, @cuteiemonster, @mawofthemagnetar, @potionofinstantdamage, @concorp, @spiderziege, @salemoleander, @bc-jpeg, @magicalmanhattanproject, @simplydm, @12u3ie, @mishapen-dear, @lunarblazes, @girltimeswithscar, @kishdoodles, @quaranmine, @shadeswift99, @bdoubleowo, @quicksandblock, @beacon-lamp, @kikunai, @sideblague, @applestruda, @ingapotejtoo, @belmarzi, @strifetxt

anyway FEEL FREE TO PROMO GUYS OR YOURSELF ON THIS POST TOO! from what i understand we may be getting some new guys sometime soon here from the twitter lands? so it may be helpful to have that for anyone who's looking for new guys to follow!

and most of all: WELCOME!!!

#answered #i DEFINITELY MISSED ABOUT A MILLION BELOVED MUTUALS AND IM SO SORRY #I JUST. I STARTED TO RUN OUT OF ABILITY TO TELL IF ID ALREADY LISTED ONE OF YOUR BLOGS #PRETTY SURE I ACCIDENTALLY DOUBLED SOMEONE ALREADY.#also i am so sorry none of these links work. see when i tried to publish this ask originally tumblr decided that it couldn't actually #so i had to copy-paste it and try again.#anyway WELCOME I HOPE YOU FIND YOUR PEOPLE! :D #also if you don't wanna be on this post let me know and i'll remove you and also i'm sorry

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kingofthering · 5 months

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favorite reads of 2023 (motogp edition)

I've taken a lot of pleasure reading in the MotoGP fandom this year so I tried to put together a small list of things I've enjoyed. It's obviously incomplete and not fully coherent but anyway.

AO3

your savage good boy (bezz/cele) by @yekoc

Exactly the words that had to be written about Bezz’s nipple piercing. It was really made for this. This is so them, so hot.

I’ll meet judgment by the hounds (rosquez) by @moonshynecybin

The ambiance, the dialogues, the phone sex scene, the hopeful ending.

All I Wanted (rosquez) by @agnst-crrnt

A universe so well crafted and well thought, so many options explored and so many scenes that are still rotating in my mind.

High Infidelity (dovquez) by @agnst-crrnt

I think about this one so often and I picture the bed scene so well in my mind and just, bless Dovi.

all i've ever known is how to hold my own (but now I wanna hold you too) series (rosquez) by @moonshynecybin

Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue my most beloved. And also porn.

bikini porn (bezz/luca) by @remapped-soul

The thought about this getting a part two makes me so happy, so many lines make my brain go brrrrr.

solar power (rosquez) by @remapped-soul

How many times have I reread this? Yes. The hurt/comfort Rosquez you need.

death by a thousand cuts (mabio) by @remapped-soul

My comfort universe of all time.

tumblr

Obviously a lot of those are collective efforts/shared universe but when I wanted to highlight the whole universe I picked the person who had a working tag for the universe.

pecco/luca arranged marriage by @baking-soda

pacific rim au (rosquez) by @whatwepostintheshadows

there come to me certain birds (dovquez) by @lastlatebraker

harem au by @f1vegas

bezz/cele praise kink by @yekoc

casey/enea escort au by @baking-soda

bezz/cele abo thoughts by @babynflames

this list of marc ideas by @restacks

bezz/cele werewolf au by @yekoc, @veryspecificfantasies

bezz/cele abo by @baking-soda

boarding school au by @topnotchquark

pecco/luca thoughts by @babynflames

bezz/cele kid fic by @vettelsbitch

very important post rosquez reconciliation sex thoughts by @baking-soda

rosquez pain sharing soulmates au by @lestelledreams

pedrenzo college au by @whatwepostintheshadows

this pecco/bezz by @yamahussy

#rpf #fic #did this on my phone so it was a little bit of a mess #and computer tumblr won't let me copy/paste text so I can't organize the tumblr list like I wanted #favereads

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mihai-florescu · 1 year

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gay rep be like “kyaaaaaah!!! i like a boy but… im a boy >////<?!?!” meanwhile queerbait is like “You pretended to get close to me, pretended to grant my wishes, all while preparing to betray me at the most effective time. You estimated when i would love both you and fine deeply, when i most certainly would not wish to part ways with you... and then you'll fade away, as if you were nothing more than a mirage, abandoning that which could have survived if given only a single drop of water. The moment that i yearn for you and pine for you - the moment that i realize i've fallen in love with you - you'll disappear from my hands. Just like the bluebird of happiness... By your separation of what was once a unison, you are dealing me a fatal wound - just as if our souls were entwined within the same form. Congratulations! Just as you wished, you've accomplished your revenge, Hibiki Wataru of the Five Oddballs! I was so happy I had also forgotten - just like those other foolish people. But you're right, the one who called you my enemy was me, myself. You are my enemy. You have been from the moment we met, to this very second." "...Is that your interpretation? Even though you have been closer to me than anyone else during this past school year? This is a great shame, Eichi."

#i wrote this all by hand btw wiki didnt let me copy paste for some reason #i also dont think wataei are queerbait but i saw this format as a f.yolai post a few days ago and i Had to make a wataei one #enstars #wataei #ensemble stars

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lavenderrvalleyy · 1 month

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Introducing: A Comic That Took Way Too Long To Make For What It Is.

It's... it's done... *drops to the floor*

Anyway, I had this dumb idea in my head for literally a year and didn't do shit about it until now XD got the idea from the first time I ever encountered Pizza Tower, in the Lario Level Gnome Forest where Peppino has a break for once while Gustavo & Brick do some of the work... and I thought "man how unfortunate if the Noise found him napping like this and just AMBUSHED him in his sleep lmao" and thus... this happened. Yes I got carried away, can't help it these two are too fun to draw-

Oh, an ending? Yeah I can give you one:

Oh, you wanted a QUALITY ending? Sorry pal, we only post bullshit here. What you see is what you get.

Also since tumblr shrunk the comic panels here's the script if y'all need it under the cut:

Narrator/Granny Pizza(?): Here we see a Peppino, in his (un)natural habitat. In the bushes, a wild Noise stalks his prey...

*Rustle*

Noise: Hehehe... target acquired.

*Boing!* *THUMP*

Noise: HUUUH-

Peppino: ?

Noise: PPBBHHT

Peppino: GYAHAHAH! WHAT TH-?!?!

Noise: Coochie coochie coo >:3

Peppino: HAHAHAHA- No, that ti- tick-! HAHAHAHAHAHA- Not there!!! Wh- NOISE!!! What the hell?! I was ASLEEP!!!

Noise: Exactly! The perfect moment to strike.

Peppino: Hm... hehehe...

Noise: ...? Whoa, Easy on the grip, big guy! I was just kidding around... wait, are ya gonna-

Peppino: Revenge is-a MINE! HUUUUH-

Noise: *Squirming* Ohhh no no no no NO NO-

Peppino: PPBBHHT

Noise: NaaaAAA-!!!

#my stupid drawings #🍕#in case you're wondering I actually do not have the Pizza Granny Dialog font...#...I tried to download it but my computer wouldn't let me so I copy/pasted EACH FUCKING LETTER onto the panel and it was hell #longest comic I made so far... and I will make more longer stuff in the future :D but first I need a break because OWWWW my hand hurts #edit 4/14: fixed gustavo's nightmare mouth in the ending gif

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lavenoon · 11 months

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@naffeclipse since I never bothered to explain (and also will not do that in the future) how my modern day self insert actually ended up in the SJ-verse, here's an imagined menace4menace speedrun <3

*self insert is not a girl (he/ she)

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

Also throwing this silly character sheet out there with this because why not

#post let luce #dcamv #bloodstain fool #naffeclipse #my art #menace4menace #so i slept like 4 hours and my way of coping was “lets animate”#the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma. even to me #spite and gay audacity made me do the animation in six hours #which did include frantic clicking back and forth to figure out how to copy paste stuff onto animation cels #i ended up googling the solution <3 right click “create folder and insert layer” my beloved <3 #and yeah the character sheet i finished a couple days ago #but. its not that serious lmao like this is in no way some sorta. sub au or smth. its just me fucking around #but yes. fun sunday i animated <3

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operationjetset · 4 months

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maybe the illustrious death engine with your zor? no pressure if you don't wanna do em specifically

death engine... theirs now!

#i expect you to die #ieytd #zor #doctor zor #thanks :) i do not get to draw them often #was listening to falkes theme while i drew this. made it easier #let me copy paste because someone asked what the fish hooks symbolize #catching people on hooks like fish. cant describe it too well. once youre in their grasp theres really no way to get out-- impaled directly #whether it be their enemies or the people who work for them

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jalapenyochips · 2 years

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queen neve got me acting unwise... 😳

(timelapse on twitter!)

#my art #star trek #strange new worlds #star trek strange new worlds #star trek snw #snw #nyota uhura #cadet uhura #this new episode was actually the greatest thing ive ever seen in my bisexual life #also trying out clip studio paint for the first time!! idk if i like it though #it wouldnt let me save at the end i ended up copy/pasting everything into photoshop layer by layer #ill put the timelapse in the reblogs too if anyone is interested?? just bc i can now do timelapses with clip studio!#nvm i forgot u cant do that i linked it #1k

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dpr-stay · 10 months

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The Moon | YT22

Chef Au! Yuki Tsunoda x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, i think a few swears, the feels, i don't think i referred to gender.

WC: ~5.1k

Did i do this instead of course work? Maybe Do I regret it? Maybe Anyways, Yuki's so acts of service coded. I may have read a little too much 'the bear' fanfic whoops. also i only listened to winter cafe by lamp while writing this so bam. i'm a mobile user anyway.

The restaurant had been closed for a few hours at this point, the full-moon well having claimed the spot of the sun, the darkness of night taking over for a few hours till the early morning sunrise peaked over the horizon and you woke again.

You would probably have to get a taxi, you thought to yourself as you peeked through the gap between the kitchen and the empty dining area through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, you wouldn’t be able to walk home tonight.

You lived in a very safe place, so you weren’t necessarily scared of being kidnapped or the like. You just hated the dark. You’d always hated the dark, you didn’t fear the things in it or the possibilities it held, just the feeling of not being able to see. That feeling had always unsettled you, even as a baby.

Your mum had always told stories of you not being able to sleep anywhere but her side during your primary years. She always brought it up for a laugh over tea with the other ladies in the small town where you grew up, their fake laughter resounding through your ears as you sat at the end of one of the ladies ornate couches and sipped quietly from your cup, taking up as little space as possible.

Those tea parties were always the worst, sitting in a stuffy room of grown-up’s who could only tell stories of their past, too afraid of the future. You were always the youngest as well, the older children looking down on you when you tried to play with them.

Your only respite was the pastries eventually served sometime during their get-together. You’d come back in from one of the ladies' backyards, your fill of solitarily walking around her yard ten times sufficiently achieved, and you’d see the most lovely pastries piled high on tables you couldn’t quite reach.

A little stumbling and you’d finally reach the table, climbing on the chairs to be able to grab them, their intricate shapes, different colours, and varying textures meaning you tried every variation of every sweet you could find. This always prompted laughter among the older ladies, you being dubbed the ‘Sweet Thief’. You were not sure if this was meant to be affectionate or insulting, but your mother’s sharp gaze when you got back into the car after the party clued you in to the latter.

The opening of the office door snapped you out of your reverie and you looked back to see your boss exit the small room, where he had been doing paperwork. He barely glanced at you as he grabbed a sponge and started to wipe down the steel work benches, muttering under his breath.

You moved from your spot of being perched on your tiptoes to look through the serving gap and shuffled into the office to grab soap from under the sink, quickly pouring a measuring cups worth into the mop bucket before filling the bucket up the rest of the way with water. A quick twist of the mop head in the bucket mixed the soapy water before you shuffled back out of the office, dragging the bucket with your feet.

You moved in silence, him wiping down the benches with his sponge, cloth, and spray kit and you mopping the floor, trailing after him as to not make him stand on the wet floor. When you finished mopping you pushed the bucket out the backdoor before crouching down and tipping the dirty water down the drain installed in the middle of the concrete patio.

While the water drained, you looked up and absorbed your surroundings. The moon shone down onto the landscape, hundreds of green paddies stretching as far as the eye could see, paths between the patches appearing to resemble snakes the further the eye looked. You could occasionally see the headlights of cars flash on roads that wound along the mountains that enclosed the large valley, people with their own lives hurrying to make it somewhere. Anywhere.

One car caught your attention and you found yourself speculating. Maybe it was an important businessman being driven by his chauffeur? Could it be a runaway child being driven back to his parents? You watched until the car disappeared, it’s fading lights causing you to squint against the harsh light shining down on you.

You looked up at the lightbulb that Yuki had installed quietly after you’d told him of your fear of the dark and cursed. Darn the thing for being so bright! Your head snapped back down and you started rapidly blinking, scrunching your face as you blinked.

When you got your vision back, you stood up and grabbed the bucket, lugging it back into the building. The door opened when you nudged it with your foot and you quickly put the mop back in its place before moving back to the kitchen.

A quick look at Yuki confirmed that he was nearly done with his clean up routine and you moved to the small employee area, where you grabbed your phone and keys from a small pigeon-hole before grabbing your jacket from a hook and making your way back to the kitchen, trying to put on your coat as you walked.

Yuki looked at the sound of the door opening and a small smile came onto his face as he saw you, holding all of your items with one hand and struggling to put your jacket on. He dropped the cloth he was holding, wiping the residue away onto his apron, before he walked over to you and taking your jacket off your floundering form. He held it out so that you could weave your free hand into the sleeve before you swapped your stuff to your other hand and he held out the other sleeve for you to put your arm through. He nodded at you when he was done and power-walked back to his station, cleaning with vigor.

“Are you leaving yet?” He asked with his back turned. You nodded, paused, then began speaking. “Oh! Yeah, I think I’ll just wait till a taxi comes around and then I’ll go.” You said and he shot a curious glance back at you which you returned with a smile. He continued wiping down, his pace increased.

“That could take hours, y’know.” He said after a second and you sighed, leaning back against one of the benches. You were lucky he was turned around, not prepared to cop the brunt of his ‘are you serious, I just cleaned that’ glare.

“Hopefully it won’t, I might still be here when you come for opening.” He released a small laugh and you both descended into a comfortable silence. You grabbed your phone to see you had 0 notifications, a pleased sigh releasing from your throat.

Opening the taxi app for your area, you saw that the expected time for a taxi was indeed a couple hours and you groaned. You didn’t see Yuki’s shoulders tense at your sound, too absorbed in your phone.

“You were right.” You half-whined to your boss, too tired to care. He chuckled and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t stay back so late.” He murmured, before turning around and beginning to take off his apron. You didn’t comment on his arm muscles as he undid the knot. He moved around you to place his apron on a hook before looking at you.

“I could drive you home, you know.” He said, almost hesitantly, and you paused, stunned. You and Yuki were pretty close, very good friends out of work and you worked insanely well together during work, but you’d never progressed past meeting outside of work.

It was a line you both hadn’t crossed yet though sometimes you wished you had. Clearing the thought from your mind, you cleared your throat, leaning back and eventually nodding, hoping you covered your shock.

“Uh y-yeah. That sounds good, thanks.” You said and he nodded, going to step away before pausing and turning back to you. You watched curiously as he leaned forward, feeling heat rush to your cheeks the closer he got. He reached out a hand and slowly wiped away a stray hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, clearing your vision and giving you a pristine look at the man.

He had been one of the boys from your hometown, his family always seemingly on the outside. They had had money, something that most of your town envied, and Yuki had always seemed to get what he wanted, being able to race karts and have his parents attend his races, something that you always envied.

However, when his parents found out that he didn’t want to follow in their footsteps of leading their company and wanted to become a chef, they left him. They cut off all support, financial and emotional, and left him with his grandma. You only knew this because you’d seen him working tirelessly at his grandma’s bakery everyday on your way back from your school, trying to raise enough to eventually put himself through culinary school.

He’d vanished when you were both around two years out from getting your certificate, briefly being a trending topic among the townsfolk before being promptly forgotten. You’d only remembered him when you’d walked into the building you were in now, your resume in hand and a strong need to work radiating from you.

Somehow he had managed to buy the shop and had been running it since he’d left your hometown. It wasn’t hugely successful, it was in the middle of farmland of course, but it was a popular spot among students, who often rode their bikes past on their way home from school, and for locals to have a nice warm meal. Yuki had made his own way in the world.

You’d never asked him about what happened with his parents, where they went or if he talked to them now, it wasn’t your place. You were curious, of course, about all aspects of your boss. He was a quiet but kind man, one you couldn’t believe hired you, considering your forte was pastry making and his shop was more traditional cuisine. His hiring you wasn’t exactly surprising though once you got to know him, considering his main characteristic was being extremely thoughtful.

He’d often leave out water and treats for stray cats and would give a kid a free meal if they looked like they needed one. You didn’t question it when he asked if you were afraid of the dark, seeing the way you always left the shop with your phone light in one hand and your flashlight keyring turned on in the other, only to find later that week that he’d installed outdoor sensor lights which kept the dark away while you performed your duties outside and eventually walked away from the shop.

The light touch of his pinky against your eyebrow brought you back to the present and you jolted as you snapped back. He quickly drew away from you, retreating and hiding his hand away in his pocket. You both stood there awkwardly for a second before he cleared his throat.

“Wait outside, yeah? I’ll just be a second.” He said and then walked briskly back into the office, closing the door and immediately slumping against it. You couldn’t see him do this, but the creaking door pressing into the doorframe hinted it to you anyway. You quickly turned away before you let yourself speculate why.

Walking through the door to the dining area, your shoes clacked on the tiles as you made the small venture to the front door. The place wasn’t exactly classy, it was more homely, but it had charm. The laminated menu items stuck to the front window (something you’d seen his grandmother hang up, unaware of the way he shot you an exasperated glance at the decor) didn’t stop moonlight from shining onto the small two person laminate-wood tables.

The white and orange leaf-pattern plastic chairs also reflected the moonlight and you thought back to when you’d suggested buying them as a joke only to watch Yuki speculate for a moment before placing an order for them, even though they clashed heavily against the whole aesthetic.

The small service counter in front of the wall with the service window was missing your coworker, her having gone home hours ago. You walked diverted to the desk and bent over the top of it, quickly checking that everything was locked up and in place, before hopping down and walking to open the front door.

The sound of cicadas and the refreshing smell of clean air greeted you as you walked through the glass door, the tiny tinkling of a bell sounding in your ears. The light flicked on and you surveyed the small road in front of the shop, the dust having settled since the last car drove on it. The gravel was in contrast to the lush greeness that spanned in front of you, the front of the shop having practically the same view as the back, except from here you could see a small town.

That was where you, and to the best of your knowledge, Yuki lived. It was also where a large amount of your customers lived, them mostly dropping in during the day. You don’t know why the shop was built so far away from the town, maybe it used to be exclusively a place where farmers would have their breaks during the day, but it was doing ok so far.

The moon was blocked by the shop when you turned around and you frowned. You’d seen it earlier, it hadn’t moved that fast had it? That was when you noticed something you’d never seen before, a ladder. A ladder was tilted against the side of the shop and, after a quick glance through the windows to see no movement, you figured a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. You scampered over to the ladder and shook it to see if it was steady or not. No movement later and you had climbed the ladder, to stand cautiously on the concrete roof.

You looked up and, at that exact moment, the sensor light turned off, revealing the stars and the moon to you in all their unfiltered glory. A gasp left your lips, the pure beauty of the scene you were watching captivating you. You sat down, still staring up at the night sky, no thought about capturing the moment with your phone camera in your mind.

The sensor light turned on and you heard the tinkling of the bell, signifying that Yuki had left the shop, a concerned call of your name leaving his lips after a few seconds.

“Up here!” You called, moving to look over the side of the building down the ladder. Yuki appeared at the bottom of the ladder and fixed you a concerned look.

“Are you ok? It might be dangerous up there…” He said and you shook your head.

“Yuki.” Your call of his first name made him snap to attention, staring at you, an expression you didn’t recognise covering his face.

“Come up here and watch with me.” You said softly and he took a second before nodding, you reaching over to hold the top of the ladder steady as he made his way up. He clambered over the edge of the roof and moved to sit beside you after making sure the ladder would stay standing.

He sat down beside you with a huff, a little closer than you had been expecting. He must’ve realised how close he sat as well, a small sound leaving his throat before he slightly shifted away from you. You looked away as your cheeks burned.

You heard his head tilt back to look at the sky and a small approving hum leave his lips that had you turning to look at him.

“You ever come up here before?” You asked quietly and he shook his head. “I just had the ladder out for repairs.” He mused to the sky and you gently elbowed him, him overdramatically hissing in response. You rolled your eyes in jest.

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve helped you.” Your words made him quiet down and he shook his head. The moment sat for a second before you turned back to the sky. The silence stretched as did the night sky before you both. You wondered if he was, at any point, into the stars as a kid.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You quietly mused as you stared at the floating orb.

“It is quite.” Yuki said, inhaling and turning to look at you as he replied. You pondered that before turning to make eye contact with him.

“Did you ever want to be an astronaut?” He looked a bit put-out by your words before laughing wrly.

“Uhh I guess. But hasn’t every kid wanted to be an astronaut?” He said and turned back to the sky. You shrugged.

“I didn’t.” He looked shocked by your reply.

“Really? You never wanted to leave everything behind and go into space?” He asked and you just shook your head after a second.

“No, I always knew what I wanted to do. I always wanted to cook.” You said and he sighed, sounding almost mournful.

“Don’t lie.” He quietly murmured, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“You always wanted to bake.”

The distinction was important. Your heart clenched at the truth in his words and the unfamiliar look in his eyes. You tried to diffuse the newly made tension with a small joke, hoping you could get back the relaxed feeling you had when staring at the sky.

“I don’t know Yuki, I’ve gotten pretty good at plating salmon.” He scoffed at your poor attempt of a joke and you smiled lightly at the sound. Both of you turned to look back at the sky, the stars continuing to shine.

After a minute or two, Yuki uttered your name and you drew your eyes away but his remained locked on the sky.

“You don’t have to stay here forever. You could go somewhere else you know?” His words struck you in the chest. He had thought about this before, you could tell by his tone, he wasn’t saying this carelessly. He had planned this. You laughed awkwardly.

“Is this your way of firing me?” You joked but he didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the sky. Your heart dropped.

“Yuki?”

“I met a guy in culinary school, his name’s Pierre.” He started and every consecutive word felt like a knife to the heart.

“He runs a bakery in France called La Kika. It’s quite popular, you may have heard of it. He’s willing to take you as a student. You could go there and you could learn how to bake and everything. You’ve always wanted this. You could go there and learn and then open your own bakery.” He said, speaking as though he had it all planned out in his head.

You could only look at his form despairingly. The knowledge that he had arranged for you to go to France, to become someone's student, with no input from you as though he expected you to say yes instantly, deeply hurting you. Did he think you would leave as soon as you could?

“You aren’t meant to stay here, you aren’t meant for this.” He finally said and he refused to move his eyes from the sky, not seeing the hurt in yours. His words had exposed how he truly felt about you. While you thought you had been as close as two people could get without explicitly stating anything, he was just looking for the next person to pawn you off to.

“What, you’d think I’d just say yes?” You asked, your voice husky as you tried not to show your hurt through tears. He turned to you, surprise evident on his features.

“Well… yeah.” He said after a second and you inhaled through your nose, turning your head away from him.

“You think I’d leave the shop because I can’t bake a croissant or two?” Your words left out the ‘leave you’ you so desperately wanted to say. He remained silent and you took a deep breath before standing up, walking across the rooftop and beginning to climb down the ladder.

He gently murmured your name but you ignored him as the sensor light flashed on. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you turned the flashlight on before setting out along the dark path away from the shop. It was only a 15 minute walk, so you could handle it.

You heard Yuki call your name as you walked, the sound of him climbing down the ladder and fidgeting with his keys in order to lock up the shop echoing over the empty land. Halfway down the road to the main road leading back to the town was how far you made it before the sound of Yuki’s car starting up echoed in your ears. You ignored it as the sound got louder and louder until he pulled up beside you in his car, slowly matching your pace and winding the window down.

“Come on, stop it. We’ll talk about it on the drive back.” He said, almost if he was placating a child. That fact caused you to walk faster, Yuki having to press down further on the gas pedal to match your stride.

“No.” You replied deliberately childishly and he sighed, annoyed.

“Don’t be an idiot, you’re going to get hurt walking down the road.” You just ignored him and he groaned before rolling his window up and stopping his car. It almost hurt you how easily he gave up before his car started again and he drove into line behind you as you turned onto the highway to walk back to the town.

It was a large road and the lack of streetlights started to make his car look like a more inviting environment between the dark and his avoidance of the bigger issue. You walked along the highway for a few seconds before a click sounded and his car lights turned on. Turning back to glare at him, you blinded yourself again.

This time you didn’t let yourself lick your wounds, you just turned around and kept walking. You were eventually able to turn your phone off, relying on his car. You half-expected him to suddenly turn off the lights, no matter how out of character it would be, as revenge for making him do this, but the lights never turned off.

He drove behind you slowly the whole 15 minute walk down the highway, guiding your path as you followed the road. You were secretly thankful, as you’d walked down the road in the night before and it was not something that you ever wanted to do voluntarily. The cars speeding by always frightened you and the ominous noises coming from the fields on either side of the road also unsettled you.

The town eventually came into view, the lights from bus stops and convenience stores beacons as to where the village started. You arrived at one of the bus stops and stepped under the cover, watching his car come to a stop. He made eye contact with you through the window and gestured your hand in a wave, as though telling him to leave.

He rolled his eyes before unbuckling his seat belt and opening his car door, getting out. He trudged over to you and opened the car door on your side before gesturing to it as if telling you to get in. You only stone-faced him so he sighed and opened his mouth.

“Please, at least let me drive you back to your house so I don’t have to follow you through the town like that. It’s the least you could do at 1:30 in the morning.” He said exhaustedly and his tone made your resolve waver. His eyes seemed tired and, as much as you were angry at him, you still felt bad. So, you got in the car.

You buckled in as he walked around the front of the car, his figure being lit up by the lights. The many years he’d spent perfecting his craft and lugging around sacks of flour and rice was reflected perfectly in his build and he was built well. His arms flexed as he buckled himself in, your wandering eye catching the way he tapped his fingers against his thigh as he pulled back onto the road.

It was hardly the time to be thinking such things, after he’d tried to make you go to France and you’d pulled a temper tantrum. You were still mad, but even you could acknowledge that what you did was ridiculous. God, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?

Maybe, you thought regretfully, that was his plan. Get you to try and avoid him so that you’d leave on your own. His voice interrupted your thoughts.

“I meant what I said, you know.” And you groaned, feeling annoyance spread across you. You bumped your head against the window of his car, staring up into the sky and at the moon in blatant refusal to look at him.

“Let me finish, I’ve had plenty of time to think over what I’d like to say.” He finally said his tone sharper than you’ve ever heard it, the dig at your actions being well deserved.

“What I meant to say was that you have a lot of talent.” You took your head off the window to look at him as he stared straight ahead and continued speaking.

“Cooking is not your passion, baking is. You would enjoy being able to bake more than what you’re doing right now.” He said and you opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off.

“I know you’ll refuse that, but I promise you, when you find that one thing you’re passionate about, you should always pursue it. Never give up on it. I’ve got an opportunity for you to do better things, go better places, meet better people.” You could only stare at him, seeing him become more worked up as he continued speaking. You don’t think you’d ever seen him say something this meaningful or something this related to the both of you.

“I want that for you. I knew that when I hired you, you’d eventually move on to something else. I didn’t expect for other things to develop but I don’t want you to feel as though you should stay here with me because of what I feel for you.” Shock flooded through your body at his words, feelings that have always been there but you never thought you could act on coming to the forefront of your body. You watched as he clenched the steering wheel, the light from streetlights glaring onto his pale skin as he continued.

“I’ve accepted it, you’re not meant to stay with me. You’re meant for better things. So if I can’t be those better things, I’d like to at least give you the opportunity to find them.” Yuki could only take shaky breaths after his speech, not daring to look at you. It was silent for a few seconds before he heard you quietly speak.

“Pull over.” He felt his heart sink, tears forming in his eyes that he tried to field away at the rejection. He knew it was coming. He slowly turned his indicator on and pulled over on the side of the road. The sound of your seatbelt becoming undone and your door opening and closing filled his ears, causing him to drop his head.

He may have just lost you completely, convinced you to follow your dreams at the cost his. It was a fever dream anyway, he’d known since childhood there was no chance of you feeling anything back for him.

The first time he’d seen you stand precariously on a chair to trial all of his grandma’s sweets was the day he became infatuated with you. He was sitting on the couch, squished between his mother and his grandma, as he watched you slowly walk to the chair and taste the pastries, your reaction to each one making him want to be able to bake his own.

Everyday he’d watch you walk past his grandma’s bakery, hoping that you didn’t think of him differently since his parents had left him and he dropped out of school. Their disownment of him had left such a large hole in his sense of self, his confidence and trust completely shattered. He couldn’t walk anywhere through the town without people looking at him with sad eyes or muttering pitifully about ‘that poor boy!’. He’d left because he couldn’t stand being an outsider any longer, briefly mourning the unrequited love he’d felt for you that was overshadowed by his loss.

And then, when you’d walked into his barely new shop, resume poised and you almost itching to get your hands on any form of food creation, how could he say no? You were a good person and a good chef, the extended periods of time he was forced to spend with you made his feelings come back at full force.

But he knew that it wasn’t the best for you. You would always be wanting something more, something that he couldn’t give you in a run-down shop that was falling apart at the seams. Pierre was more than happy to give you a small course and set you up with employment, all it took was one stellar review from Yuki and you’d pretty much had the job.

He was glad that, even if he felt as though his heart was ripped from his chest, you were able to finally fulfill your childhood passion.

And then his car door opened.

He barely had time to turn to you before you’d grabbed his collar and drawn him into a kiss. His body melted, the tears in his eyes disappearing as he took in how soft your lips felt. He recovered from his shock quickly and unbuckled his seat belt, letting his hands then run to the back of your neck.

He pulled away and couldn’t say anything before you were staring at him, as though he was the moon himself, with stars from the sky sparkling in your eyes and you spoke.

“What do you say we open a pastry menu?”

she should be edited, but we'll see. anyways this may be my favourite thing i've written idk. through the years may beat it out *shrug* also i got a banger lewis idea while writing this so watch out for that.

#Yuki tsunoda x reader #f1 x reader #Yuki tsunoda x you #Yuki x reader #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #Yuki tsunoda fanfic #Yuki tsunoda one shot #YOU CAN COPY PASTE TAGS??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??#chef au #let yuki open a restaurant #f1 imagine #f1 reaction #formula one imagine #nighty night #Spotify

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trans-leek-cookie · 6 months

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Also accidental plagiarism is a Thing That Exists. Like just so y'all know that is what it's called when you take a source without credit by accident. Literally covered this beginning of a class.

(screenshot from the "Types of Plagiarism" section of https://guides.library.unt.edu/plagiarism/welcome )

like you probably don't have to worry about it (or self plagiarism) too much if you're not in a class or academia or whatever, but I think it's good to know that plagiarism can happen by accident. Idk abt punitive measures but I think it should be acknowledged as something that exists. Also I kept the mosaic plagiarism in bc that's the kind of plagiarism most often discussed in the video.

On the topic, I found this article (https://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2023/12/05/responding-to-hbomberguys-plagiarism-video/amp) to be informative and worth a read (goes into more detail about the specifics of plagiarism and such)

#James Somerton #Hbomberguy #Also if the thing I did for the image description isn't good (copy and pasted the text and added some context) please let me know #How I can fix it thanks

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howlingmod · 1 year

Text

Slippery

summary ; Wally takes some advice to heart. Instructions unclear, succeeded anyway.

notes ; no pronouns used for reader , reader and wally enjoy annoying each other ( in a married couple way ) , not proof read

wc - 1.3k

It was a silly little idea, to be truthful.

You hadn't meant for him to take it seriously, but that may have been your first mistake. You knew he had a tendancy to confuse you being genuine with you joking, eyes studying your expression for some hint whenever you would say something he wasn't sure of. You hadn't, however, expected that he would stick to his interpretation this thoroughly, even when it became clear you weren't serious.

( Part of you almost thought it was spite- you could swear you gleamed it from the way he'd proudly planted his hands on his hips when he told you he'd go through with it anyway, no matter what you'd really meant. Despite the fact that, for a rare moment, his eyes were closed to further demonstrate his confidence, you'd still hid a grin behind one of your hands. Though, you were sure he could surmise your amusement from your tone when you'd hummed a little 'ah, I'm sure you will,' in response. That is, if the following 'Don't you laugh! I'm being serious!' was anything to go off of. )

It'd all started with you sitting by as Wally went about the motions of his morning routine- or, well, morning routine was something of a stretch. You loved him, no doubt about it, if you didn't you wouldn't spend so much time hanging around bickering with him. However, you also loved your own sanity, and waking up at the hours he did unfortunately went against that. Luckily, he'd eventually picked up some habit of inviting you over shortly after the time you usually got up for tea or coffee or some other drink he'd suddenly grown fascinated with before you both went about your days. While not entirely the same, it was a nice enough replacement, it gave you both a chance to see and talk to one another with some privacy.

You'd been at it again, sitting close by with some book you'd picked up because the cover had a pretty illustration of an orchard in some hilly, rich-green scenery taking up your attention. You could distantly pick out the clatter and shifting of things as Wally worked on the drinks. For someone who wasn't particularly crazy about the stuff, he'd always had some complicated methods of making coffee that you didn't quite understand. You'd shown off your much simpler, compact way of making it before, which only earned him half-heartedly shooing you off so he could do it his own way, huffing about how you were missing out on all the key steps. You didn't mind the wait, it was a bit of an added charm, a unique detail. And truthfully, it tasted better. You will not tell him this. He would never let you live it down.

( Darling as he may be, he still had some pride to him. )

"Dearest."

You'd hummed your acknowledgement, only tearing your attention fully away from the page about ... something, something, different kinds of fruit, something, something, identification of fruit-bearing trees. You'd found his attention turned in your direction, hands reaching up to the top shelf in one of Home's colorfully painted cabinets.

"Yeah?"

He'd continued staring at you for a brief moment before glancing back to the shelf, then looking back to you. It was a silent request that you understood loud and clear. Part of you wanted to wait a moment longer, see if he'd simply say it or if he'd die on this hill of 'I will not be giving you that satisfaction no matter how much my arms start cramping' silence. Another part of you could really use the coffee, if your reading was anything to go by.

Setting the hardcover aside on the armrest of the cruelly comfortable chair you'd been taking up, you'd made your way over. There wasn't any crazy height difference between the two of you, it wasn't as though you absolutely towered over him- no no, but there was enough of a gap where you could reach the things he couldn't with juust an annoyingly simple amount of ease.

"You know, you really should invest in heels, Hun. That way you wouldn't have to make your poor, dear partner do all the heavy work," you'd sighed in faux exhaustion, hand feeling around for a glass surface blindly.

"Maybe I will," he'd blankly returned, just as the tips of your fingers found the mug hiding near the back of the cabinet.

"You should. You'd look good. Maybe then you wouldn't have to ask me to lean down for a kiss," you'd teased, voice sickeningly sweet as you pulled away to place the cup on the counter, making way for him to work his magic.

He'd just kept his head held high, ever-present smile pulled just a touch wider in smug confidence, plan already forming in his mind.

"Maybe."

...

For all his confidence and sureness in his plot, he had failed to entirely realize this wasn't as cut and dry as asking for a favor and getting a 1-up over you. For all his boldness, he hadn't concerned the outcome of you hiding a snicker behind your hand as his own was stuck to the wall to keep himself up, ironically unconfident in his legs doing that.

"It's not funny, you know."

"You sure? I think it's just a little funny."

He frowned at that.

"C'mon, just a tad?"

With a heaved sigh, he attempted to straighten himself up, immediately regretting it when he started to stumble all over again. He swung too far back only to go careening forward in the process of rebalancing and to the floor- that is, if it hadn't been for gentle, firm hands catching him and pulling him back up instead. His own hands instinctively found your arms, scrambing to clutch onto you for support now that the wall was ways away. You were too busy looking down to make sure he was stood upright to notice the shift in his stare, still everfocused on taking you in.

Eventually, once you were sure he wouldn't lose balance and send you both to the hardwood floor, you looked back up to meet his gaze. Before you could make any comment on the wide-eyed, almost curious look he'd fixed you with he made his own.

"You look different from here."

There wasn't any real postive or negative meaning in his words, it was just an observation. Granted, from his sudden stillness you could surmise that it wasn't a change he disliked. You could feel his hands move from their place just below your shoulder to wrap his arms around your neck. Apparently, his discovery gave him enough confidence to lean back just enough to get a better look at you. Partly to stabalize him and partly out of your own, bubbling up affections, you wrapped your own arms around his waist.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, smile growing a tad wider, "Yes."

Unable to stay still, he shifted forward again to move one hand just above your shoulder while the other cupped the side of your face, "Do you remember that thing you said when you brought this up?"

"I said many things," you hummed.

Ignoring your weak, smart comment he leaned ever closer. You really only now processed the sudden change in your height difference, having to tilt your head up just a bit further to keep your eyes on him. You had to hope the lighting from his perspective covered up any redness in your face. Granted, the little twitch at the corner of his lips let you know he most assuredly felt the rising warmth of your face in his hand.

"I think you were right."

With one last little grin and half-lived, quiet chuckle on your part, he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead.

#if anything is weird ... let me know .#this survived two different copy pastes . hopefully .#wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #mod writes

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