#family x reader
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neteyamyawne · 1 year ago
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╰ ₊Sully Family - Sully's Stick Together꒱༉‧₊
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-‘๑’- Key Genres
◦ | Fluff - ♡ | Angst - ✦ | Hurt - ✩ | Comfort - ☾ |
◦ | Na'vi!Reader - 𑁍 | Human!Reader - ❁ | Avatar!Reader - ֍ |
◦ | Daughter!Reader - ꕥ | Gn!Reader - ꨄ︎ | Pregnant!reader - ❀ |
◦ | Request - ☁️ | Non-request - 🌱| Platonic - ❈ |
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-‘๑’- One shots
➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...
-‘๑’- Two Shots
➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...
-‘๑’- Drabbles
➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...
-‘๑’- Head-Canons
➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...
-‘๑’- Series
➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...
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©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!
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mahmood11 · 14 days ago
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Please don't ship💔i need your help 🙏
Hello.. My name is Mahmoud Atta. I am 29 years old. I live in Gaza, Palestine.. I am looking for my life partner.😊 I used to work as an Arab teacher and I was looking for happiness, but suddenly my life turned around.💔 War was declared on Gaza without any advances. 🥺Tanks entered the neighborhood in which I live and the planes began bombing. 💔💔I found myself and my family trapped between shells. I miraculously escaped, only to find myself without shelter, without a bed, not even a place to go to the bathroom,💔 or even a meal. I couldn't find anything to eat I made myself a tent and lived in it out of nylon, 💔but it does not protect me from winter or from the sun. I am sorry that I am writing this, but this is the reality in which I live🥹💔. I ask you to stand with me so that I and my family can live. 💔💔Any donation will be good for me. Stand with and may God stand with you. Thank you for listening and donating😭😔
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Bruce: I raised five perfectly functional children
Y/N: *tearing up* You have five other children we don’t know about?!
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suiana · 5 months ago
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beo idk where i saw or read this but can you imagine a yandere! husband who would actually go insane if you left/escaped him?
like, actually insane. I'm not talking "ohhh my spouse left me :((( im gonna find them grrr" type of insane.
im talking like mental breakdowns, crying, screaming, actually getting ill, throwing fits and acting like a sick and deranged man because you're not with him anymore.
he's a rich guy, comes from an old money family. so obviously his parents and family all see the state that he's reduced to after his beloved darling left his grasp. and they absolutely hate the way that their son is so miserable right now. that's their son! and how could they let their son suffer? just how can they help?
so they find you on his behalf and bring you back to him.
like, they're sorry you're back here against your will but their son's condition is more important! don't you see? he loves you and you're just... just neglecting him! a good spouse wouldn't do that. you have to be with him. no questions asked.
upon spotting you, their son (who was literally clawing at his arms, nails all bloody) immediately switches moods and perks up. he's no longer the insane man he was just 5 seconds ago. now he's your loving and sweet husband.
his family all sees that, especially his parents, and they make a vow to make sure you never leave him again. i mean, they like you too! you're perfect for their son! why would you ever want to leave? you don't need to leave.
just stay here with them. stay with your husband. after all, he clearly needs you. and what type of spouse would you be if you left him again?
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rizsu · 6 months ago
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+ extra: canon-type family relations: jin itadori & sukuna are brothers, itadori is a child here ( 8 years ).
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boyfriend-girlfriend life with sukuna except he thinks he's being replaced — in all seriousness. sukuna's seconds away from destroying his nephew's remote-controlled cars collection.
can the kid move? he wants yuuji gone. he's not jealous of him, he just wants your undivided attention back on him. if he knew beforehand that agreeing to jin's invitation over would result in this, he'd probably fly out of the country with you to avoid it.
manspreading on the sofa with one hand slung over the backrest, he swirls the beer in his other hand. his brother's in the kitchen, stacking the extra beers in the fridge.
“you can help me, you know?” jin calls sukuna out, lacing his voice with slight annoyance.
“nah,” sukuna responds, waving him off.
he's busy watching you sit on the floor with yuuji, pretending to race against time with him.
it's not all that bad when he thinks about it — never mind, it is. the kid's had you on the floor since you walked through the door. not a moment spared for his uncle. all yuuji did was look up at sukuna, stick his tongue out, and engulfed your legs in a big hug.
ever since then he's been sulking in the corner. jin can only pity him for so long — it's been an hour, he needs to get over it.
jin sneaks up behind sukuna, gathering his fingers to surprise attack him. in only a matter of seconds he's subjected to the ear-pinch-and-ring combination.
sukuna flinches, immediately swatting jin's hand off.
“you must've gone fucking crazy!?”
he gets yet another ear-pinch-and-ring combination from jin.
“i have a son, don't curse.”
“fuck that boy,” he whispers under his breath, cupping his ear. it's hot from the pain — most likely already gained a red shade.
even after such commotion both yuuji's and your attention didn't turn to them. you both are far too immersed in the racing game.
the brothers are now both on the sofa: one has his attention on you and the other has his attention on the unattended mail on the coffee table that's been neglected two days ago.
“this one? no... that one? also no...”
“jin, quit mumbling.”
“cover your ears then.”
rolling his eyes, sukuna downs the last bit of beer remaining in the bottle. he's now officially out of beer and too lazy to get one.
being left without a distraction, he's forced to observe jin's house. it's nothing extraordinary. he believes his house to be better.
he voices out a sigh, slouching and spreading his legs further apart. the boredom's hitting him earlier than it usually does — this is your fault. if you weren't busy zooming cars around the living room with yuuji then he wouldn't be bored.
as sukuna's busy with complaining, he doesn't notice yuuji speed walking to the sofa with a broken car in hand. you're right behind him, sporting a smile that says you got yourself in some trouble.
“daaad, the car!” yuuji whines, climbing onto the free spot between his dad and his uncle.
jin hums, raising his eyebrows but his gaze is fixed on the mail as he's still sorting them out.
“it broke,” the boy complains, pouting at the toy.
“it lost control and rammed into the wall,” you explained further, sitting on the armrest on sukuna's side.
sukuna's arm fixes itself around your hips. he's slightly smirking at the news.
that doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're more than familiar with your boyfriend's joy at other's misery. you shot him a glare with a light tap on his shoulder.
“is that so?” jin's attention is now fully on his boy. he takes the glasses off, pulling yuuji onto his lap.
taking the car into his hand, he inspects the damages. it's not too much, and it's fixable.
“dad will fix it later, okay,” reassuring yuuji, jin ruffles his hair.
yuuji nods, jumping down from his dad's lap to return to the toys. as he's on his way, he turns, appearing to have suddenly remembered something.
“(y/n), come play with me!”
“no, she won't,” sukuna answers for you, ignoring the harder hit you gave him on his shoulder.
“i'll be right there, yuuji,” this time you answer, giving him a warm smile and a thumbs up.
“give the boy a fucking brother,” sukuna grumbles, looking at jin with pure annoyance.
jin shoots his brother a smile, giving him no reply before he goes back to reading the final mail of the bunch.
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nosyrobin · 3 months ago
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Nightwing: behold! My secret weapon!
(Dick pulls out chubby baby!reader who smiles with their gummy teeth.)
Criminal: MUHAHAHA stupid hero! No baby can—
(Criminal accidentally stares into the pure soul of chubby baby!reader who reached out to the air as they kick their cute baby feet and giggle)
Criminal who is now distracted: Awwww! How old are they?
Nightwing who is now gushing at the baby, completely forgetting his mission: 6 months old ! They are such a cute baby.
Criminal with heart eyes at how cute the baby is: they’re like a sack of potatoes!
(Robin popping up out of no where and clocking the criminal upside the head to knock them out.)
Robin: Our mission is done. Let’s go home, I wanna show Y/N all my sword collection.
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alisonwritesimagines · 8 months ago
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Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~
Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.
Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!
BatFamily Masterlist
Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her
Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut
Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!
Do not repost this anywhere!
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Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.
“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.
“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.
“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.
“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.
"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."
As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.
"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.
You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.
“Hello?”
“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”
“We just got home. Why?”
“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”
“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.
"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.
"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.
When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.
"Aw my poor husband," you say.
"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.
“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.
“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.
You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.
“Tempting me my love?”
“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.
“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.
“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.
The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.
“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.
"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.
"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.
By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.
“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.
“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.
“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.
You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.
“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.
“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.
“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.
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madebycloud · 15 days ago
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Ex at Christmas
violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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summary: christmas is just around the corner, and you've been invited to spend them with your ex-girlfriend's family. only one problem is that your ex-girlfriend has not told anyone that the relationship is over. (requested by anon) — SEQUEL warnings/themes: fluff and angst, found family af, fake dating, ex lovers, christmas, family gatherings, secret santa, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au vi just begging for you to take her back? words: 17.8k.... (i got carried away) notes: it's so long i should've cut it into parts but idk where... so suffer (╥﹏╥)
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As always, the last drop is a lively spot. warm, cozy, and familiar. Colorful lights hang from the ceiling, a decorated tree stands in the corner, a 'merry christmas' painted on the wall, even a few strings of garland have been hung from the low ceiling.
People are crowding around the bar. Some are playing pool, some are simply chatting amongst themselves, cigarette smoke curling up toward the ceiling.
Vander's voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Look who finally showed her face around here.” He reaches over the top of the bar to ruffle your hair.
“I know, I know,” you laugh, swatting his hand away. “Things are just... busy, y'know?” 
Vander rests his forearms on the countertop, leaning closer to you. “Just making sure you're still alive. 'Been an awful long while since I last saw you.”
“I've been fine, old man.” 
“Glad to hear you're doing alright kid. Haven't seen you around here in, what, three months? You need to come by more often, keep an old guy company,” he chuckles. “I almost thought you'd vanished.”
“You sound like a grandma with kids that never call.”
Vander grins and winks at you, taking a rag and wiping at the bartop. “You're like a kid to me, so I guess it checks out.”
You scoff but say nothing, leaning against the bartop as your eyes start to travel across the room. A few people mill about that you recognize as regular patrons, but other than that, there's pretty much no one of interest.
Vander snorts and lifts the rag to his shoulder. “We're having our christmas gathering again this year, you should swing by. Just like last christmas, eh?”
A lot has changed for you in the past month, and you've been dreading this coming up. “I... don't know. I don't think so.”
Vander raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don't know? Not up to seeing the old gang again?”
“Not exactly,” you murmur, the memory of the breakup is still fresh. It's not that you don't want to see your friends, it's just the idea of seeing Vi again.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It's not that, I just... things have changed, especially recently. I don't want to... accidentally make things awkward or something.”
Vander shakes his head and it almost seems like he's laughing at you. “Why would it be awkward?”
“I don't know…” You sigh, your shoulders slumping in resignation. “Nevermind it, I'm going.”
Your words get a smirk out of Vander, and he reaches over to poke your arm. “That's what I like to hear,” he gives you a wink, folding his arms across his chest. “You better show up or I'll drag you here myself. You know I could.”
“Like I'd let you drag me here, old man—there's no way your back can handle that.”
“Ah, you kids these days have no respect for your elders. You're gonna break my old back and then I'll die,” he pretends to sniffle, making you scoff.
Silco then walks over, looping his arms around Vander's shoulders. The two of them exchange a knowing glance before Silco turns his attention to you. “Look who actually decided to show up.”
Vander laughs as he pats Silco's arm. “Cut the kid some slack. They're just here to have a good time.”
Silco chuckles, his eyes still on you. “So are you coming on Christmas?”
You almost sigh as Silco brings up the party again. You rub at the back of your neck, and just as you're about to answer, Vander beats you to it.
“Yeah, she's coming,” he confirms.
Silco hums, he lifts his arm from off vander, resting it in his hip instead. “Good, I was beginning to think you were going to weasel your way out of it.”
Vander smacks his shoulder. “Lay off, would ya? let the kid breathe.”
Silco relents and waves his hand dismissively. “I'm just saying,” he looks back at you. “We all want you there, you know. It wouldn't be the same without you.”
Hearing them say that makes you feel guilty for even considering not going. You know they mean it. You just hope it won't be too much awkward with Vi there.
Vander nods and smiles. “He's right, you know. Everyone's been asking about you. They'll be happy to have you there.”
“I get it. You don't have to butter me up, old man.”
Vander chuckles, then he glances over his shoulder, gesturing to a small, unassuming box on a nearby table. “Hey, could you grab that little box over there for me?” Silco smirks and nods before moving to get the box, bringing it over and handing it to Vander.
“What's in the box?” you ask.
Vander grins at you, holding the box in his hands. “We're doing a secret santa,” he explains, “and since you’re coming that means you're participating too.”
Your eyebrows raise to your hairline. You'd completely forgotten about the secret santa. You groan in annoyance, running your hands over your face. “I'm still annoyed I got that whoopee cushion from Powder last year.”
“That was a good one. She was so damn proud of herself too, and besides…” Vander pauses, turning to look at you. “You never know, you might get something less annoying this year.” He then holds the box out to you, a smile on his lips.
There's always the possibility you won't get something shitty, but knowing most of your friends... Yeah, that's unlikely.
You look at the box, then up at Vander, sighing. You take the box from him. “I hope you're right, old man.”
Vander chuckles before stepping back to talk to Silco.
You turn the box over in your hands, feeling the weight of it. It's not too heavy, and you almost feel compelled to shake it. But if you do that, you'll probably end up drawing Vander's name, and that's basically cheating.
Sighing, you decide to just bite the bullet. You take the lid off the box, sticking your hand inside. Your fingers rummage around before they eventually close around a folded piece of paper.
You pull out the slip of paper, unfolding it slowly. You glance at the handwriting, then almost roll your eyes.
Of course you got Vi.
Out of all the names you could have drawn, you get the one person you didn't want to get. You could have gotten literally anyone else. Mylo, Claggor, Powder, Silco, or anyone other than Vi. but no, you had to get your ex. Just your luck.
You look at the note again, and the first thought that comes to your mind is...
Well, crap.
You're so focused on the slip of paper in your hands that you don't notice Vander and Silco peeking over your shoulder.
“So, who'd you get?”
Vander's question makes you jump, you quickly stuff the paper into your pocket before they can see who it is.
“No one,” you say, waving your hand to dismiss the question. “It's not important.”
Silco raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you pocketing the paper?”
“It's a secret for a reason.”
Vander and Silco glance at each other, and you can tell they're silently communicating. 
Vander turns back to you a moment later, rubbing his jaw. “A secret, huh? Well, that means whoever you got won't know it's you.”
Silco hums. “That's probably a good thing,” he mumbles.
“That's kind of the point of a secret Santa.”
Vander nods, scratches his beard before his lips turn up in a small smile. “True means you can give them something real nice.”
Silco glances at Vander before looking at you. “Whoever you got is probably going to be very happy when they get their gift.”
You almost snort at Silco's words. Yeah, right. a gift from you? She’ll probably chuck it straight in the trash.
You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the thoughts of Vi out of your head. You don't know why you're worried about how she'll react. Why care if she'll like the gift? Why care if she's happy with whatever you get her?
The answer is so obvious, but you don't want to admit it even to yourself.
Vander and Silco are still looking at you, and you realize that you have to say something. Any longer and they might figure it out.
You push those thoughts away and force out a small scoff. “If they'll actually like it. I'm not the best with gifts.”
“Oh, I'm sure they will,” Silco says, an almost knowing smirk on his face.
Vander nods. “Just give them something from the heart.”
From the heart, my ass. The only thing you want to give her from the heart is a kick in the ass.
“Because someone's gonna be real happy with something from me.”
Vander and Silco exchange another look again, like they're having an entire conversation without actually saying anything.
You turn away from them, looking out the window. They're probably trying to read your mind, figure out who it is you got. The thought makes your eyes twitch. You don't want them to know. You don't know why, but you really don't want them to know.
“Just do us a favor,” Silco suddenly says, cutting into the silence that had fallen between you. “Try not to stress too hard about it. You'll give yourself gray hairs.”
Vander chuckles at Silco's words, “You'll give us an old heart attack.”
“Ha ha, funny.”
Silco grins at your response. “Well, we're only half-joking.”
Vander's eyes soften. He slaps Silco's shoulder to get him to shut up. “What he means is, you overthink too much,” Vander adds.
You almost huff. Yeah, so what if you overthink? It's a normal thing to do. especially in situations like this, where you're stuck with the one person you don't want to be.
Why keep thinking about her? You need to stop obsessing over her. She made her choice, and it wasn't you.
You run your fingers to your face, trying to think of something else to distract yourself. It's not like you don't know what you want to get Vi. You just don't know if you should get it.
“I don't overthink,” you grumble, shifting your weight on your feet. 
“Oh yes, you do.”
And they're both right about that.. You can't even count how many times you've paced around your apartment, replaying every interaction you had with Vi over and over again in your head. Every word, every touch, and every look. All of it, it's like your brain refuses to let you forget.
You've spent countless nights trying to figure out where you went wrong. What you could have done differently if there was something you could have changed. All of that, just because of one person who tossed you aside without a second thought.
“Listen,” Silco suddenly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over at him as he stands up straight, a smirk spreads across his lips. “You're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about something that hasn't even happened yet.”
“He's right,” Vander gives you a look before continuing. “And for the love of God, stop overthinking.”
If only it were that simple. If only you could just switch off your brain and stop thinking about everything.
But you know damn well you can't do that. Your thoughts are as uncontrollable as the weather, and right now, they're a mess.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your thoughts.
“I should probably go,” you mutter, and the two men nod. Vander pats you on the back as you start for the door.
“Same place, eh?’ he calls after you.
“Don't think too hard, kid,” Silco adds.
You give them both a small nod as you exit the bar, shutting the door behind you.
Christmas is going to be one hell of a mess this year, you can feel it.
Now all you have to do is figure out how the hell you're going to deal with it.
You're standing outside of Vander and Silco’s house, the weight of the present in your hands suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier.
You've replayed this moment in your head countless times, but now that it's happening for real, you're not sure if you're ready.
Christmas music drifts out of the house, it's a familiar tune that you've heard a million times.
You push down the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You shouldn't be feeling so nervous, it's just a gift. Just a present for a secret santa.
But this isn't just anyone, this is Vi. The one person who you didn't want to get. The one person who broke things off without a second thought.
Stop thinking about this. It's just one night. one stupid night, and then it will be over. You can get through this, you can handle being around Vi for one Christmas. No more thinking about her. No more wondering where you went wrong or if you could have done something to change things. Just get through the night and forget about her.
You take another deep breath, straighten up, and square your shoulders. Then, in one moment, you push open the doors to their house and walk inside.
Your eyes search the room, looking for that familiar pink hair. But you don't see her. Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe she's not here yet. That'll give you a few minutes to brace yourself. No one is around right now, probably in their rooms or preparing for the dinner. 
You were so distracted by looking around that you didn't realize someone was standing right behind you until they grabbed you and spun you around. Your eyes meet their powder blue ones, and your mouth suddenly goes dry.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Woah, hey-” you stumble over your words.
“Don't 'woah hey' me,” she snaps, her grip tightening on your arm.
Vander's deep voice cut in before you could even speak. “You've actually came.”
You feel her look away from you, her hand finally falling from your arm. As soon as it does, you rub the skin where she grabbed you.
Vander looks between the two of you and says, “Hand me the gift, kid. I'll put it there.” He gestures towards a christmas tree where the gifts are already sitting underneath.
You quickly hold the present out for him to take.
He takes it before giving both of you another look. “Go easy with your girlfriend, eh?”
You freeze, your heart stopping as his words register. Your eyes widen as you slowly turn your head to look at Vi.
Girlfriend?
“I will.” Before you can even process what's happening, you're being pulled outside.
You yank your arm back from Vi, quickly putting some distance between the two of you. “What's your problem?”
She spins around and scoffs, looking you up and down. “I should be asking you that. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Vander invited me. He asked me to come.”
“Then you should've said no.”
“Wow? just wow.” You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I know that things didn't go well between us, but you don't get to push me out of this family. They're my family too, and Vander invited me here to celebrate. I have as much right to be here as you do.”
You refuse to break eye contact with her. “You can ignore me all you want, but you don't get to decide how I'm allowed to spend my Christmas. If you want to keep acting like this, fine. Ignore me, pretend I don't exist, just like you've been doing for the past months.”
Vi lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand on her forehead. “They do not know.”
You blink at her. “What do you mean?”
She looks over at the entrance and says, “They all think we're still together.”
Your eyes widen. “What?” you almost shout. “Why the hell would they think that?”
“Because I didn't tell them,” she scoffs. “Every time I talk to them, they ask me how you are. Silco and Vander keep making comments about how we make a cute couple. They still think we're together.”
“Why the hell didn't you tell them?” you glare at her. “Were you ever going to?”
“I don't know,” she retorts, throwing her arms up. “They're all so happy about us being together.”
“That's such bullshit,” you snap at her. “That's such a crappy excuse! You should be the one to tell them we broke up.”
She looks away, planting her arm on her hips. “Don't you think I know that?” she shoots back. “It's not that simple. I can't just rip off the bandage like that.”
“Is that it? You’re scared that they'll know?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know how Silco and Vander can get.”
“I know how they get,” you snap back at her. “You’re just too much of a pussycat to face them and tell them the truth.”
Her expression hardens, and her jaw clenches. “Look who's talking. You can't even say no to a little family gathering, but here you are.”
“Don't even start. I didn't come here because I wanted to see you. I came for the family, not for you.”
“As if I wanted to see you either. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with you all night.”
You look her right in the eye. “Fine, you know what? I'll go tell them right now that we broke up. They deserve to know.”
She grabs your wrist before you can take a step towards the door. “Wait”
You look down at her hand, then back up at her. “What?”
“Don't,” she says through gritted teeth. “Just... don't tell them yet.”
You scoff, ripping your arm away from her grip. “Why the hell not? So they can keep thinking we're still together?”
“Just don't tell them tonight. Can you just give me until after Christmas?”
“Why are you still dragging this out? What difference does it make if we wait till then or do it now?”
“Because it's fucking christmas!” she snaps before dropping her gaze. “Look, it's the holidays. I just... I don't want to ruin Christmas. They've all been looking forward to all of us celebrating together. I don't want to ruin it by spoiling the fun.”
“Wait—let me get this straight. You want to fake it this christmas? Pretend we're still a happy couple?”
She's quiet again. “Yeah,” she whispers, looking down. “Yeah, that's what I'm asking.”
“You’re unbelievable, Vi.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself together. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You're asking me to pretend like we're still together, to pretend that nothing has changed.”
“It's just one day,” she mumbles. “One day, that's all I'm asking for. We can tell them anytime after that, just not tonight, please.”
She even says please. Something about the way she says it makes your heart ache.
She looks desperate, like this really means something to her. Who are you kidding? Of course, this means something to her. 
They're her family, they're important to her. And on Christmas, all they want is for everything to be perfect. perfect food, perfect presents, and perfect couples.
You hate the way she's looking at you with those soft, pleading eyes. She always looks at you like that when she wants something, and you always give in. She does it subconsciously, knowing how to get exactly what she wants. And damn it, it works.
“Fine,” you mutter through clenched teeth. “You've got your damned wish.”
And there it is. There's the look you've been waiting for. That look of relief that comes to her eyes.
You hate that look. You hate how your heart flutters when she looks like that. You hate it so much.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, you've got me for tonight. I'll pretend like we're still together. Happy now?”
There's a flicker of a smile on her face, something quick that's gone before you can even register. “Yeah, thank you.”
She looks away again. Silence falls between the two of you as you shift awkwardly.
This is gonna be a long night.
You let out a sigh, watching as she keeps her focus on the floor. This is so damn awkward.
And it's your own fault for agreeing to this nonsense. There's no way this night doesn't end up being a goddamn catastrophe.
You would give anything to just disappear right now.
Powder's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Peeking her head out of the doorway, looking at the two of you. “Hey, you two. It’s cold out there, get your asses in here.”
You look at Vi, waiting for a sign of acknowledgment.
She slowly glances up, her gaze meeting yours. “Come on,” she murmurs, holding out her hand.
Taking a deep breath, you take her hand in yours.
You've held her hand so many times before—more times than you can count. Holding her hand used to be nothing, but now it feels so odd. Almost awkward.
But she doesn't seem to notice how out of place it feels. She slowly leads you towards the door, squeezing your hand as she pulls you along.
“How are my favorite love birds doing?” Mylo's voice greets you as you both enter.
He slings a casual arm over your shoulders, leaning on your shoulder to get a better look at you. “It's about time you two showed up. I thought for sure you were just gonna keep making out in a corner somewhere.”
It takes everything you have not to elbow him in the stomach. Instead, you keep a neutral expression and chuckle awkwardly, “Yeah, you know us. Can't keep our hands off of each other.”
“You two are sickeningly in love, it's really cute, actually.”
Your eye twitches, and you bite the inside of your cheek.
“Yeah, we're very in love,” Vi says, and you can tell she's trying not to roll her eyes.
Mylo claps you on the shoulder before releasing you. “Well then, I'm going to go find myself some eggnog,” he leaves towards the kitchen, whistling to himself as he goes.
You turn to look at Vi, and you almost feel a twinge of hatred towards the way she so casually holds your hand, like nothing is wrong.
“Are you okay?”
Her voice brings you back to reality, and suddenly you're all too aware of how hard you're clenching your jaw and the fact that you're basically just glowering at the floor with a storm cloud over your head.
You raise your eyes to meet with hers, and you have to force yourself to release some of the tension. “Yeah, fine,” you mutter. “just cold”
It's a lie, obviously. It's not cold at all. Vander always keeps the place nice and warm.
Not even she's dumb enough to fall for that. She glances around, clearly noticing how you're not really hiding your feelings well.
She runs her thumb over the back of your hand. It's an innocent gesture, one that you've seen dozens of times before. It's not meant to be anything special, it never was. And yet, it still makes your heart skip a beat. 
You have absolutely no idea how you're going to get through this night with both your sanity and your heart still intact.
“Okay,” she finally says, “can you stop clenching your jaw so hard? you look like you're trying to grind your teeth down to the bone. I know this isn't the ideal situation, but please don't go around looking like you want to kill everyone in this room.”
Her fingers squeeze your hand, and you realize just how tightly you're holding her hand in yours. Your knuckles are white, and your fingers are probably digging into her skin.
Gritting your teeth, you loosen your grip. 
“There, that's better.” She lets out a quiet breath. “Please try and just relax for a bit. This is going to be hellish already, so I at least need you to not look like you hate me every second we're in here.”
You let out a frustrated huff, looking away from her. “Please don't act like you care.”
“I'm not acting like I care,” she says, a tone just loud enough for only you to hear. “I do care, and that's the problem.”
Of course she has to say something like that right now. Of course she has to hit where it hurts the most.
Care? care about what? about you? about what she put you through, how she broke your heart?
You open your mouth, but your response dies in your throat. You have no idea how to respond to that.
A loud shout interrupts your thoughts, and you both turn around. “Oi! Time for dinner!” Powder yells from the doorway into the kitchen.
Vi mutters under her breath, “finally.”
Powder grins as she waves you both over. “Hurry up or Vander will eat everything and complain about his bad back afterwards.”
“We're coming,” Vi calls back.
The two of you head towards the kitchen. There's a long table in the middle of the room, covered in a red and green tablecloth. Everyone is already crowded around the table, taking their seats as you two enter the room. Vander is at the head of one of the tables, Silco seated beside him. Mylo and Claggor are chatting amongst themselves as Powder takes her seat beside Claggor.
Vi looks at the seating arrangement and sighs, realizing what's about to happen. She pulls you over to the table and sits down, pulling you down into the seat right next to her.
After a few moments, everyone quiets down and turns their attention to Silco.
Silco places his hands together. “It's good to see everyone together like this today. I am thankful that we are all here, safe and healthy.” He glances around the room in a quick survey, seeming to count everyone's attendance. “And what better time to be together than the holidays?”
Powder lets out a huff. “Can we just eat? I'm starving.” 
Silco raises his hand for Powder to stay quiet. “Patience, Pow. First, let's do something a bit… different.”
Mylo and Claggor glance at each other in confusion. “Different?” Mylo repeats.
“Indeed,” Silco replies. “Instead of just diving into our meal, I thought it would be nice if we all took a moment to share a few words about what we are thankful for this year.”
“We're really gonna do this?”
Claggor nudges him. “Be polite, Mylo.”
“He's right, though,” Powder chimes in.
Silco raises an eyebrow at them both. “Is it really such a hassle to express gratitude at the end of the year?”
Mylo and Powder grumble something under their breaths.
Claggor is the first one to respond. “I think it's a fine idea.”
“Thank you, Claggor,” Silco replies, “I'm glad we have at least one cooperative person here.”
After a moment of silence, Vander speaks. “Alright, then I'll go first... I am grateful for my family,” he says as he looks around the room, taking in the faces before him. “I am thankful for my health, for my business, and most of all, that everyone is still here with me and safe.”
“That's so soft,” Powder mutters, but everyone ignores her.
Vander turns his head and looks directly at Silco, as if he's saying something that's meant to be for Silco's ears only, though everyone can clearly hear. “I'm also thankful for you, Sil,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile.
You're not sure if you're the only one who noticed, but that comment definitely seemed personal and almost a little out of place.
He collects himself quickly and nods at Vander, seemingly not quite sure of what to say. “Thank you, Vander.” 
Silco clears his throat and composes himself, turning his gaze to Powder. “How about you, Pow? Any words of gratitude?”
Powder groans, slouching back in her seat like a child who's been forced to eat her vegetables. “I swear, if you make me say something corny-”
Mylo leans over the table to look at her sister. “Say something nice for once, or you're not getting dessert.”
“Ugh, fine. I am thankful for…” she looks around the room. “I'm thankful everyone's here and we're all... whatever, happy and healthy or something like that,” she mumbles.
“I'll take whatever I can get,” Silco mutters before turning his attention to Claggor. “What about you, Claggor?”
Claggor seems to be taking a moment to think, like he's actually putting effort into what he will say. “I'm grateful for…” his eyes are almost unfocused as he thinks. After a moment, he glances up to look at Vander. “I'm grateful for the family I have here.”
Vander gives him a warm look in response.
Everyone's gaze turns to Mylo, expecting him to go next.
He fidgets anxiously, shifting in his seat as he glances around the room. “What am I supposed to say?...er, fine... My whole life's a mess, but...at least all you idiots are here to make my life more miserable.”
“We love you too, Mylo” Powder teases. “Real touching. I think I might cry.”
Mylo throws a glare in her direction. “Shut up.”
Silco glances at Vi, his gaze lingering as he waits for Vi to speak.
“I'm thankful for…” her voice is a bit quieter than usual, more hesitant. She glances at you before continuing. “I'm... thankful for the people I have in my life.”
Everyone's gaze settles on you next, waiting for you to say something. “Well, I... I guess I'm thankful to be able to still participate in this family gathering, even if I haven't seen everyone in a while.” You take a look at Vi before moving on. “Hopefully I can still be here and spend Christmas with all of you next year too.”
She holds your gaze for a moment, almost as if she's processing what you just said… and then, unexpectedly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
It's a subtle change, barely noticeable, but you see it. and just seeing her smile, even a small one like that, has butterflies filling your stomach. It's been so long since you've seen her smile like that. A part of you misses it, a part of you yearns to see it more often.
She quickly looks away, and you notice that her cheeks have turned a light shade of pink.
“There, we all said our little cheesy bullshit,” Powder says, clearly getting impatient.
Silco turns to Powder, his expression disapproving. “Language, Pow,” he reminds. 
Vander sighs. “Yes, Powder, mind your language” he adds, earning a mock-offended look from Powder.
“Like you don't swear all the time.”
“I do not swear all the time, Pow,” he protests, although you know it's a lie. Even the most proper and upstanding people swear, and Vander is definitely not that.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
Vander huffs but chooses not to add anything. Silco lets out a dry cough to redirect everyone's attention. “Right, now that that's over, let's go ahead and eat, shall we?” Silco says, as if the whole moment of gratitude never happened..
“Finally,” Mylo grumbles, “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about why we all gathered here.”
Silco gives him a look. “Patience is a virtue, Mylo.”
“We've all been patient for the last hour, so spare me.”
Claggor lets out a little sigh, but thankfully Mylo and Powder seem to settle into silence for the time being.
Silco nods in approval. “Then, shall we begin?”
Vander gets up from his seat, moving to go grab the food.
Powder and Mylo look at Vander expectantly, and they both look like they're about to get out of their seats. Silco gives them a warning look, silencing them before they can get a word out. “Wait until everything is ready.”
They both grumble, but they obediently sit back down. They're impatient, sure, but they at least know better than to piss off Silco.
Vander returns a moment later, setting a platter filled with food on the table. It looks delicious, and the smell is mouthwatering. Your stomach growls a little, reminding you of how hungry you are.
Powder and Mylo are practically drooling, and you honestly wouldn't be surprised if they lunged for the food the moment Silco gave the word.
Thankfully, he doesn't give them any chance. He simply says, “Please, help yourselves,” and Silco has to gesture for them to wait.
They almost get up and move to the table, and they're clearly resisting the temptation to shove each other to try and get to the food faster.
Mylo lets out a curse, and Jinx giggles in response. Vi stands up and grabs both of them, grabbing onto their shoulders and holding them back from each other.
“Enough, you two,” she scolds, “there's plenty of food for everyone. Chill out.”
They look at her with expressions that clearly are saying, 'no, we're hungry'. Powder lets out a huff, and Mylo looks like he's one more remark away from shoving her sister.
Vi's expression sharpens, her eyes boring into Mylo and Powder. “No, quit the bullshit, you can wait a few minutes, and if you two can't act like adults about it, neither of you are getting any.”
Mylo immediately shuts up at that, his expression turning slightly more guilty. Powder just looks like she's about to protest, a pout forming on her face. Vi glares at Powder to shush her as well.
“Just quit it,” she says. “You can wait, the food will taste better if you don't shove it all down your throats like dogs.”
“Fine, we'll wait,” she grumbles.
Mylo just nods with a pout, staying quiet.
Vi seems to notice their looks, and she rolls her eyes, staying put just in case. She seems wary as she watches Powder and Mylo, her eyes switching from them to the food on the table.
And sure enough, the moment Silco gestures for everyone to get their food, Powder and Mylo are gone, rushing to claim their plates.
Claggor lets out a sigh as Powder and Mylo shove each other for their own plates. No one says anything though, they're all just used to it. This is just how Powder and Mylo are, and they've come to accept it. Vi doesn't even seem as bothered as everyone else does. 
Mylo seems like he's really close to just pushing Powder to the side and snatching up the slice he wants, and Powder doesn't look any better. Honestly, if Vi didn't step in, there was a chance they'd start throwing punches.
And judging from how the others' looks, especially Silco, they look like they're expecting this. 
It's like this is all completely normal, they know to expect this kind of behavior when food, and more importantly, free food, is involved.
Powder and Mylo finally settle down after their little fight, and they finally begin digging into the food.
Mylo is practically shoving it into his face, eating it like he's been starved for weeks. Powder isn't any better, although at least she's not making a complete mess.
Claggor is significantly slower when it comes to eating, choosing to take his time as he slowly eats as opposed to just shoving the food into his mouth.
Vander eats at a decent pace, and he doesn't seem as starving like Mylo is.
The last one to begin eating is Silco, and surprisingly enough, there's a smile on his face. He takes one look at how Mylo and Powder are chowing down on their food, then he turns his gaze and looks at you, as if silently asking if you're going to eat.
You take the hint, and you decide to dig into your own food. The food is delicious, and you can't blame Mylo and Powder for basically trying to swallow their food whole.
Vi also begins eating now that everyone's settled down.
Vander lets out a laugh, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Slow down a little, you two, the food isn't going anywhere.”
Mylo and Powder both raise their heads at that, and they both look like they're considering it for a moment... but they immediately go back to shoving food down their throats.
Claggor shakes his head as he watches them eat. “You'd think they'd never seen a Christmas dinner before.”
“You know them, they would scarf down all the food in town if they could.”
Powder glances up at that, a small pout forming on her lips. “Hey, it's not our fault we're just starving.”
Mylo nods in agreement, his mouth too full to say anything.
“You both just had eaten before this,” Claggor counters.
Mylo swallows whatever food is in his mouth long enough to argue with Claggor. “And that was hours ago.”
“Yeah,” Powder agrees, “it was practically an eternity since we ate.”
“Two hours is not an eternity,” Claggor retorts. 
“It might as well be,” Powder counters.
Despite the bickering and arguing the dinner feels oddly... domestic, almost.
Claggor looks like the responsible and mature oldest sibling who's done with his siblings nonsense, Vander almost acts like a tired parent, Silco acts more like a stern aunt, and Powder and Mylo act like rowdy kids who are constantly at each other's throats.
Vi sits next to you. She's making sarcastic comments with Silco, laughing at Powder’s jokes, and making small talk with Claggor. She even gives Mylo an unimpressed glare when he tries to snatch all the bread for himself.
It's almost like you're both back to normal. The way she's acting makes your heart ache. She's giving you all the attention a partner would give.
She gives you fond smiles whenever you make a comment, she casually slides an arm around your shoulders, she even scoots her chair a little closer to yours.
Her eyes are soft, her voice is soft, whenever you look at her, she looks back with this almost affectionate look.
It's so normal, that it almost takes you back to your relationship and how you two were before the breakup.
She's even doing little things, like leaning closer to you, letting a hand rest on your thigh, even discreetly grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with hers under the table.
You want to hold her tight and never let her go, but your brain keeps reminding you. You two aren't together anymore.
But when you look at her, when she looks at you with that look in her eyes, everything goes quiet. 
Maybe it could work this time.
Maybe you two could just bury the hatchet and move on.
Maybe things could work between you two if you try it out again.
Then you remember the fights, the nights you spent on your bed, crying while Vi was out with friends. You remember how she treated you after the breakup—how she tossed you aside like discarded trash.
You try to ignore it, push it to the back of your head. But it's so hard when Vi sits next to you, close enough for you to catch the scent of her perfume. She smells like cigarettes and leather, something that's so her.
You're so focused on trying to stop yourself from touching her or even getting closer that you're almost surprised when she suddenly leans her head against your shoulder.
She doesn't say anything, just leans against you.
She's so close. She's pressed against your side, her shoulder against your shoulder, her head against yours, her hand on your thigh.
You notice her scent again, now stronger.
Her hair brushes against your neck, the way you can feel the warmth of her body, and the way her thumb draws little circles into your thigh.
She's so close, and yet you want her even closer.
You want to run your hands through her hair, you want to nuzzle your face into her shoulder, you want to feel her hands roaming your body.
You just want her.
Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Powder, her question pulling you out of your head. “It's been a while since we've seen you two together,” she says, her mouth still full of food.
Claggor shoots Powder a look. “Powder-”
“Shush, I'm just wondering,” she argues, shrugging casually, “has she been avoiding you?”
“No,” you say before anyone can say anything. “We just... haven't had time to schedule any dates, that's all.”
“For months? Haven't had time to schedule a single date for months?”
“Life gets busy, y’know,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.
Mylo scoffs at that. “You two are dating, the least you could do is at least manage one date a month.”
Claggor smacks him over the head. Mylo grumbles and rubs the back of his head, shooting his brother a glare. “What? it's true,” he mutters. “We just kind of... we all miss you.”
Vander gives Mylo a disapproving glare. “What Mylo means is, your presence has been sorely missed around here.”
“We all just... we just want you around more,” Powder puts in her two cents, speaking around a mouthful of food again.
You cast a sidelong glance at Vi. You and her are putting up a pretty good facade so far, but Mylo's question seemed to have put her on the spot a little. She catches your glance, and you give her a look that says, just play along. Vi sighs, her hand squeezing your thigh.
“Look, I-” she glances around the table, meeting everyone's eyes before sighing and putting on the most believable expression. “I know we haven't been as... present as we should have been for the past few months. Work just got really hectic.”
“That's true,” you back her up with a nod. “I had to travel away for a business trip a few weeks ago, so it's been pretty hard to find time to spend together.”
Vander, Silco, and Powder all nod in understanding. They're aware of the fact that you have a job in a big city, so it's not an unbelievable explanation.
Mylo, however, snorts and crosses his arms. “You don't have to feed us some lame excuse for not hanging out with us.”
Claggor gives Mylo another smack. “Would you shut up already?”
“Ow!” Mylo grumbles as he rubs his head again, shooting Claggor a dirty look.
Vander sighs. “Regardless, it's good to have you here for Christmas this time.”
Everyone nods and agrees. Powder grins at you, Silco shoots you a small almost-smile, and Claggor and Vander both look genuinely pleased to have you here.
All eyes then land on Mylo, and he shrugs again, mumbling, “I guess it is good to have you here.”
“See, it's a christmas miracle, Mylo isn't being a little prick for once,” Powder teases.
Mylo scowls at her. “Hey, I'm never a little prick-”
“Bullshit.”
Mylo just grumbles again, his eyes narrowing at Powder. “I just think that-”
“Nobody cares what you think,” Powder interrupts again.
That just causes Claggor, Vander, and Silco to laugh. Vi snorts next to you, squeezing your thigh.
The conversation soon changes to talking about old childhood holiday memories.
Mylo tells a story about you and him stealing Silco's secret chocolate stash when you were twelve. Silco scowls at the memory, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Powder tells a story about the time she accidentally burned the back of Vander's hair with a roman candle. Vander laughs and shakes his head at the memory.
At some point, Claggor chimes in to tell a story about a time he and Mylo accidentally broke a window during a snowball fight. Even Mylo himself laughs at that one.
There's lighthearted banter, friendly jabs, and just a lot of laughter in between. This, this is what it should have been like from the beginning. It reminds you of the way it used to be when you were all younger, but still has a different air to it. In a way, it's almost better than those old days. Everyone's grown, but there's still that same energy that always connected you all as a family... it just feels fuller.
You don't know if it's just the christmas lights playing tricks on your mind, but you swear you can almost see the faintest tearful sheen in Vander's eyes. He's almost always had a bit of parental pride and love toward all of you, but seeing you all sitting here together, happy... damn, it must bring back a lot of memories for him.
Silco even looks slightly less grumpy than usual, his mouth twisting into a barely visible smile as the rest of the table continues talking. Yeah, this is how christmas should be…
It almost makes you forget that all of this is fake, almost makes you forget why you and Vi aren't together anymore. It's almost like just for tonight, you can pretend like things are back to how they used to be.
But you know this will not last. When everything is said and done, when christmas night is over and you're all saying your goodbyes, you have no doubt in your mind that you and Vi will go your separate ways again.
You glance at her, taking in the sight of her laughing with the rest. Her eyes are bright, her smile is big, and her entire face lights up with joy. 
You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your heart to quiet. 
Vi must notice you looking, because she glances over at you. She's looking at you with that look again. You recognize it so easily.
That look... that damn look she's giving you again. The look that makes your heart stutter against your ribs, the look that makes your stomach twist into knots. It's a look that almost makes you want to lean forward and kiss her.
You almost give into your urges. You almost reach out and push a stray strand of hair out of her face, you almost do something to kiss her, almost.
But you don't, you can't. That would spoil the whole 'still dating' facade, and besides.... you have boundaries.
You give her a little nod, offering a small smile, and you almost swear that you see disappointment flash across her eyes.
She looks like she wants to say something, her hand tightening over your knee again, but she seems to change her mind and just smiles back.
Maybe it's just a figment of your own imagination, you think to yourself. Maybe it was a trick of the light or something.
Claggor reaches over to grab something from the middle of the table, and Silco clears his throat. “How about you two?” he says it casually, like he's just making small talk, but there's a hint of concern in his voice. “Any... any problems between the two of you lately?”
You and Vi both sit up straighter. “Problems...?” Vi repeats.
Silco just shrugs, playing it casual. “I don't know, I'm just wondering... a lot of couples who have been together for as long as the two of you have.” He trails off, but everyone at the table knows the implications.
Mylo grumbles under his breath. “I swear, if you start talking about how high the divorce rate is—” Claggor elbows Mylo, and he shuts up.
Silco just chuckles. “Oh, I'm sure you two can last.”
Powder rolls her eyes. “These two have been together since forever. You guys were like... practically attached at the hip, from day one.”
“Yeah, we were like that, weren't we?” Vi looks back at you.
“Yeah,” you say with a casualness you don't feel. “Yeah, we were.”
Silco hums. “I remember when you two first started dating.”
“Oh, do you remember that?” Vander says, looking at Silco. “I remember the two of them coming to me the day they decided they were going to be official.”
Claggor nods. “Yeah, and they were so... so mushy. All 'you're mine' and 'we're never going to break up,” he puts on a mock high-pitched voice, imitating you and Vi
“That was the worst,” Powder groans, shoving food into her mouth.
Mylo grins and elbows Claggor. “How many times did you have to stop them from making out all over the bar again?”
“Way too many times.”
“By the way,” Mylo says. “You two aren't doing anything for new years, are you?”
You and Vi exchange glances. “..we haven't made plans yet,” you say slowly, trying to think of excuses.
“Oh, you should come join us then,” Mylo says, leaning back and stretching his arms. “All of us are getting hammered down here for new years, you two should come.”
“Yeah, it'll be fun!” Powder pipes up, eyes lighting up. “You guys will come, won't you? promise you'll come.”
You open your mouth, trying to wrack your brain for excuses, but before you can say anything-
“Of course we'll come.”
You turn to look at Vi, and she just gives you a shrug.
Mylo grins. “Good, good! That'll be fun,” he sits up and points a finger at you both. “I swear, the two of you used to be so much fun at parties, it's like you both went boring when you got older.”
“Hey, just cause we're getting old doesn't mean we suddenly became party poopers,” Vi says defensively. “We're still fun.”
Mylo cackles. “Are you now? I never see you two do anything anymore,” he leans back in his seat. “Ever since you got that fancy shmancy job, you've been too busy to have any fun.”
“We know how to have fun, we have—” you pause, trying to think of the word, “responsibilities now. responsibilities that a certain someone is too dumb to understand.”
“I understand responsibilities, but I understand the concept that if you don't get wasted while you're young, then you'll wake up at forty, old and boring,” he says, looking at Silco and Vander. “And I want to make the most out of my young and reckless years. Meanwhile, you've already turned into an old, boring fart.”
You scowl at that, but Silco interrupts before you can respond. “Don't knock on old farts just yet. Some of us are old and still know how to have fun.”
“Yeah,” Vander chimes in, nodding his head. “Just because we're old doesn't mean we don't know how to have a good time.”
Mylo rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you old farts can still have fun. You just don't know how to have real fun anymore.” Mylo then pouts. “I just... I miss how it used to be, you know?” he sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Before all that adult crap, when things were easier.”
“Easier,” Powder mutters, poking at the remains of her food. “Yeah, when we were broke and always hungry, real easy.”
Mylo reaches over and flicks her arm. “Easy doesn't always mean money, you dumbass.”
Powder scowls and smacks his arm back. “Don't call me a dumbass, you dumbass.”
“Then don't be a dumbass,” Mylo snaps back, smacking her again.
Powder smacks him again, harder. “Don't you dare call me a dumbass again.”
Before they can start another childish argument, Silco's voice cuts in. “Enough you two," he says, and they immediately grumble and fall quiet.
“Honestly, I sometimes wonder how the two of you aren't still in high school,” Vander mutters under his breath.
“That's an insult to high schoolers, they're more mature than those two,” Claggor jokes, earning him a smack to the head from both Powder and Mylo.
He yells and puts his hands up in surrender, “ow ow ow, ok ok! don't hurt me!”
Jinx and Mylo laugh, while Silco shakes his head. “See what I mean? Children.”
“And they both insist they're mature enough to be out in the real world, independent and capable,” Vander says, while Silco chuckles.
“They're still just as chaotic now as they were in high school,” Silco says dryly. “Nothing has changed.”
Powder and Mylo both glare at him. “Really? like you two were that much better in high school,” she grumbles.
Silco raises an eyebrow at that. “We certainly weren't as immature as some people,” he says pointedly.
“You guys were probably just as bad as us, you just don't remember."
There's a pause, and Silco and Vander exchange glances before Silco snorts. He tries to bite back a laugh, but it comes out anyway, causing Vander to burst out laughing as well.
“I can't-” Vander wheezes between laughs. “I can't believe... you actually…”
Silco doubles over, laughing even harder. After a moment, he manages to gasp out a few words. “Oh, if you only... if you only knew…”
Powder and Mylo exchange confused glances, while Claggor tilts his head. “What? what happened? what's so funny?”
The laughter finally dies down as Silco composes himself enough to speak. “Nothing, it's nothing,” he says, waving a hand.
“All right, all right,” Vander looks around the table. “I think most of us are done eating. Who wants to help with the dishes?”
There's a collective groan from the rest of the table. No one likes doing dishes.
Powder and Mylo immediately groan out a “not it,” and Claggor follows up with “You all know I'm terrible at dishes-”
“Don't look at me either,” Silco grumbles. Vander just sighs and shakes his head.
and that just leaves you and Vi... great, just great.
You're about to argue as well, anything to get out of being stuck in the kitchen with Vi, but she beats you to it. “Yeah, we'll do it,” she says, before you can even open your mouth.
“Oh, I-” you pause for a moment. You had been fully intending to dodge the chore, but now you can't without looking like an ass and leaving her alone to do dishes.
Vi stands up and picks up the nearest stack of dirty dishes, balancing them on her arms as she turns to you. She shoots you a look, almost like she's daring you to try and weasel out of helping.
You get the hint, shaking your head a little and standing up. This is absolutely the last thing you want to do right now.
You follow her to the kitchen, grabbing a few more dishes along the way.
She holds the kitchen door open for you, and you step into the little kitchen with its small stone countertops and simple appliances. You set the dishes down on the counter near the sink, turning to find Vi already rolling up her sleeves.
She's not looking at you, but when she starts to roll up the left side of her shirt sleeve, you swear you can see her eyes dart over to you for a split second.
You pause, staring at the side of her face. You can't tell if she's... no, you must be imagining things. The light must be playing tricks.
She clears her throat, raising one eyebrow. “What, you're not gonna help?”
“No, no, I am,” you hurriedly say, turning away as you start to roll up your sleeves.
You're not going to look at her. Not at the way her forearm flexes when she reaches down to turn on the water, not at the way she bends over to grab some dish soap, and definitely not at the way her shirt tightens across her shoulders.
Yeah, you're definitely not going to look at her. Not at the way her fingers move when she soaps up the dishes, not the way her biceps flex when she bends her elbow, and especially not at the way her hair falls into her face when she scrubs at a stubborn stain.
Why is she so fit?
You look down at your own hands, watching the water and soap bubble up between your fingers. You start washing another dish, trying your absolute hardest to look anywhere except at her.
The minutes tick by in awkward silence, but eventually, your mind starts to wander. After all, washing dishes is pretty damn boring.
You glance over at her again, out of the corner of your eye, watching the way her shoulder blades shift under her shirt. The fabric of her shirt is stretched taut against her shoulders, and you wonder what she looks like under it if she still has all the same muscles....
Yeah, okay, you really have to stop staring at her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Well, so much for not looking at her. Your head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and you force yourself to just focus on scrubbing at the glass in your hands. 
“Depends what the question is,” you grumble, shifting a little.
You expect her to ask you something about your current life or something generic. What happened when you were gone, what life was like where you were?
Instead, she asks something completely left-field.
“Do you ever think about us?”
You tense up, the glass in your hands slipping a little in your grip. You were not expecting that question. Hell no, you were literally not expecting that question.
How are you supposed to answer that? yes? no? sometimes?
What was she even expecting to hear? did she want you to say yes, to say that you always thought about her, that you would've come back to her in a heartbeat if you could've? or did she just want to hear you say no, to hear that you moved on, that you had to move on because it was either that or let yourself fall apart?
‘Sometimes’ was definitely not the answer you would've given months ago.
Now, though? you would admit that sometimes, after a rough morning or a particularly lonely night, you'd let yourself think about her. You'd remember those nights you spent in her apartment, on her shitty couch, talking her ear off about everything and nothing, the nights where the two of you would sit on the couch and watch tv, her head resting on your shoulder, and you'd wonder if maybe... just maybe..
You wonder if she thinks about that kind of stuff too, if you cross her mind late at night when she's alone. You wonder if she still thinks about the nights where you would stay in bed together, talking for hours after a particularly good round, your head resting on her chest as she played with your hair, or the mornings where you'd wake up and find her making breakfast for you.
Yeah, you thought about her a lot.
But you couldn't say that to her. You can't tell her that you think about it all the time, about how sometimes you can't fall asleep because you miss the feeling of laying in bed with her, about how you always find your hands searching for her in the middle of the night. No, you absolutely cannot tell her that, no matter how badly you wanted to.
“I used to,” you say instead of letting your thoughts wander any farther. “Not anymore.”
You keep scrubbing, even after there's no longer any more dirt on the glass. Just so you have a reason not to look at her, just so you have a shield from the thoughts you know are brewing in her quiet mind.
She's quiet for a moment, and you can feel her looking at you. Looking at you, reading you, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth or not.
After a few moments, she takes a breath like she's going to speak, but then stops herself. It's something you're all too familiar with. She's overthinking something, that much is obvious. She's trying to pick her words carefully, and damn, you just wish she'd spit it out.
The silence feels like it's been going on for a year, but really, it was only around a minute. Your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you're gripping the glass you're washing, and your shoulders are beginning to ache from how tense you are.
“What about you?” you murmur. “Do you... do you think about us?” You force yourself to look over at her, and you instantly wish you hadn't.
She's not looking at you now, she's not watching you suspiciously or anything like that. No, instead she's looking down, staring at the soapy water, and avoiding eye contact with you.
She's quiet for a second, her hands pausing in their scrubbing. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I do.”
Damn it. Her answer goes straight to your gut and twists deep inside you.
You were absolutely expecting a solid “no”, hell, you were even preparing yourself for a cruel “god, no.”
Anything, anything other than “I do.”
She continues scrubbing at a plate as if she hasn't just turned your world upside down. How are you supposed to react to her answer? do you say something, do you not say something?
“Why?” the question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.
“Why do you think so?”
You don't say anything, you just shrug your shoulders. You genuinely don't know. You'd just blurted out the question without actually knowing what you wanted the answer to be.
Her eyes linger on yours for a few seconds, and you can't quite read them. She looks like she wants to say something, she looks like she wants to reach out and hold you, and you'd bet real money that if circumstances were different, she would've done exactly that.
Instead, she just averts her gaze back to the sink and lets out a sigh. “I don't know... I just do.”
You go back to scrubbing dishes. It's obvious there are a million things that you want to say, that you need to say.
“Oh,” is all you say in response, and the word hangs in the air awkwardly.
You're both quiet for a few minutes after that. It's quiet, except for the faint music playing in the background and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another.
A few times, you catch yourself glancing over at her, trying to pick up any hint of what she could be thinking, what she might say next. But, every time, she stubbornly keeps her eyes down on the dishes she's scrubbing. It's frustrating, the way she just won't look at you, and what pisses you off most is the fact that you understand why she won't look at you.
You have a feeling that if she were to look at you, if she were to meet your eyes right now, she'd either burst into tears or shove you into a storage closet and kiss you until your lungs burned.
You don't know which one would be worse.
It's so quiet, so awkward. You're both just scrubbing and scrubbing, refusing to look at the other.
Every time she takes a breath, you look over at her, convinced she's about to speak. But, time and time again, she doesn't, and the only sound to come from her is a shaky exhale.
It's maddening.
The sound of Claggor's voice finally breaks the stifling silence, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. He peeks his head into the kitchen, grinning widely. “Yo, you two almost done here? Powder is about to get impatient.”
You're thankful for the interruption, and judging by the look on Vi's face, so is she.
“Yeah, we're done,” Vi mutters, glancing up from the dish she's been washing for the last ten minutes.
You dry your hands off on a nearby towel, trying to look unaffected. “We're finished.” 
Claggor grins again, “Thank God, Powder is about to start biting people.” He laughs, then disappears back into the main room.
“That sounds like her,” she says with a chuckle, scrubbing her hands off on a towel.
“Guest we should head out there then,” you murmur, trying to get her to actually look at you.
She hesitates for a second, still running the towel over her hands even though they're no longer wet. She looks down for a moment as if she's contemplating something, then finally lifts her head to look at you.
Her jaw is tense like she's forcing herself to stay quiet. After a few seconds, her features soften a little. “Yeah.”
You want to ask her what she's thinking, you want to ask her why. Instead, you just push the door of the kitchen open and gesture for her to go first.
“Now that we've had an amazing dinner, it's time for the best part of the night.”
Everyone gathers around, now sitting either on the couch or on the floor. Powder and Mylo immediately get squished together on the floor. Powder mutters under her breath, “Hey! you're shoving me!”
“Only because you're taking up too much space.”
Vander smiles from his spot on the couch. “Alright! It's time for secret santa. Everyone remembers who they drew, right?”
A group of nods and hums go around as everyone pulls out the slips of paper that have the names they drew.
Vander clasps his hands together. “Good!” he says as he looks around the room, his smile getting wider. “Who wants to go first?”
A few seconds of silence, then Powder’s hand shoots up. As always, she's the most excited one. “me!”
Vander laughs. “Well, look at that, our little girl is so eager. Okay, you can go first, Pow-Pow.”
Powder smiles and scrambles off the floor, almost tripping over herself as she pulls a present from beneath the Christmas tree. She glances down at the tag and grins.
She then scans the room with a giddy smile, then her eyes land on Silco.
She bounds over to him, practically shoving the present into his hands as she sits down on the floor next to his legs. 
Silco smiles faintly as he takes the present. “Alright, let's see what you got me, hm?” He's quiet as he carefully unwraps the present, and Powder watches him who barely contains her excitement.
After a moment, the wrapping paper is set aside, and the present is now fully unwrapped. It's just a little box, though Silco is curious as to what's inside.
He glances at Powder as he takes the lid off the box, looking a little wary. Powder just grins at him. “Go on, open it,” she encourages.
He looks back at the box and, with a little nod, reaches in and pulls out the item inside. He holds it in his hands and looks at it curiously, then looks at Powdr with a raised eyebrow.
She's still grinning, and she looks extremely pleased with herself. Mylo glances over to look and snorts out a laugh. “Would you look at that?”
Silco looks at the item in his hands, then looks at Powder again. “You got me…” he begins, trying to sound unimpressed. “...a little shark plushie?”
Powder nods, her grin getting wider, still very pleased with herself. “Yep!” she exclaims, “I got you a little shark plushie. You like it, right?”
Silco glances at the plushie and then at her again, looking vaguely fond. He carefully sets it down on his lap, then smiles a little.
“I adore it.”
Her grin somehow widens even more. She's clearly happy with herself. Silco chuckles a little under his breath, then looks around. “Who's next?”
Claggor shrugs, raising a hand. “I'll go,” he offers, to which Vander nods.
“Go ahead, Claggs,” he says approvingly.
Claggor gets to his feet from his spot on the floor, then moves to the tree. He crouches down and rummages around, looking for the present with the correct name tag.
A minute passes as a few minutes go by. He eventually stands back up, a small present in his hands. He looks around the room, then his eyes land on Mylo, who's now lying down on the floor and looking very bored.
Claggor moves over to him, tossing the present into his lap. Mylo looks up and catches the present, shooting him a glare. “You couldn't have done that a little nicer?” he complains while sitting up.
Claggor just shrugs and gives him a flat look. “Suck it up,” he tells him bluntly before sitting back down.
Mylo scoffs and begins to unwrap the present, ripping the wrapping paper off carelessly. He tosses the wrapping paper away, then looks down at the present as he tears the box open. He's quiet for a moment, looking at the contents...
..and then he groans, covering his face.
“Oh, come the hell on,” he grumbles, though he sounds more whiny than anything else. He glances up from his hands to give Claggor a withering look.
“Dude, seriously?”
“What?”
Mylo just sighs, shooting the toy in the box with a dismayed look. “Really? a stress ball?”
Claggor shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea,” he says, clearly not bothered by Mylo's unimpressed tone. “And you seem to be lacking a bit in the stress management department.”
“Well, excuse me for being a bit stressed when you're being a dick.”
“See, you need the stress ball. You proved my point right there.”
Mylo just groans and throws his head back. He picks up the stress ball and squeezes it hard. “I hate you.”
Claggor merely grins. “I love you too.”
Mylo mutters something under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear, then looks up as he addresses the group. “So, who's up next? I'm sure there's some poor sap itching to go.”
Silco raises a hand. “I'll go next,” he offers.
Everyone glances at him, then nods and gestures for him to go. He gets up off the couch and saunters to the tree. He scans the presents beneath it, moving a few aside to find the one he was looking for.
He finally finds it and smirks to himself, grabbing the present and standing up. His eyes sweep over the group, taking in everyone's expressions. He then turns and walks over to Vander, holding the present out to him.
Vander glances at the present, then at Silco, taking the present and curiously giving it a little shake. “What is it?” he asks curiously.
Silco just grins in a vaguely irritating way and sits back down. “Just open it,” he replies, his voice dripping with innocence.
Vander raises an eyebrow but begins to unwrap the present meticulously, occasionally shooting Silco a glance, as if expecting something. He peels away the wrapping paper to reveal a small box, then looks at Silco, his eyes questioning.
Silco simply shrugs and gestures for him to go on. Vander quirks another eyebrow up but opens the box anyway, now a little intrigued.
Then a snort finally escapes him. He's now fighting to hold back laughter.
Mylo sits up suddenly, looking at Vander, then at Silco, curiosity in his eyes. “What? What is it?” he asks eagerly.
Vander doesn't answer for a moment. He's still staring into the box, looking like he can't believe what he's seeing.
He then looks up at Silco. “Please tell me you're joking,” he implores.
Silco's smile widens even more. “I couldn't be more serious,” he replies.
Vander lets out a long, suffering sigh, then digs through the tissue paper and pulls something out of the box.
It's a pair of comically large underwear, one that could practically fit an entire person inside of it.
Vander groans, holding the underwear up and staring at them with slight disgust.
Mylo and Powder both start laughing once they register what the present is. Powder laughs so hard she nearly falls over, clutching her stomach as she howls with laughter.
Vi's eyes widen at the sight of the underwear, her mouth dropping open a little in surprise. As much as it pains her to admit it... she just knows the jokes that Silco is going to start making any minute now.
…and she's right.
“You see, I thought it was a necessary gift.”
“Necessary?” Vander repeats, still holding the underwear up in disbelief.
Silco just nods. “Of course. you're getting old, and as you get older... accidents happen.”
“I'm not that old,” Vander grumbles, though he knows it's probably not the best argument.
Silco smirks, raising a hand and waving it dismissively. “Oh, you know what I mean. Things begin to... fail as you age. I simply wanted to make sure you had a spare pair.”
Mylo is now practically rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. “Oh, my god, I can't breathe—this is—this is gold,” he wheezes. Powder is laughing so hard she's choking, practically coughing her lungs up.
Vander sighs again, looking down at the underwear in his hands. He looks like he wants to throw it into the fire and destroy it right there.
He glances up at Silco, giving him a look that clearly says, 'I will get you back for this'.
Silco leans back against the couch and crosses an ankle over his knee, looking all too pleased with himself. “What? You don't like them? I personally thought they were a good choice.”
Vander opens his mouth to reply, but Powder interrupts him.
“Oh, god,” Powder chokes out, “you should try them on. They'd look perfect on you.”
Vander shoots Powder a glare to kill. “No way in hell,” he mutters firmly, folding his arms and sitting back.
But Powder’s not done. “Come on, just try them on,” she wheezes. “It really would be a look for you.”
Vander turns his glare to Powder, his expression clearly saying, 'I will murder you if you keep talking.'
“No,” he replies through gritted teeth.
Even Silco is starting to look amused.
“Just for a second,” she teases, “come on, just long enough for us to see. We won't even say anything.”
Vander lets out another long, suffering sigh.
He shoots a sneering look at both Silco and Powder. Eventually he lets out an exasperated grumble and stands up, mumbling something under his breath as he heads into the bathroom with the underwear.
Mylo falls back onto the floor, clutching his stomach.
Silco is laughing too, watching as Vander heads to the bathroom to change.
Mylo is dying of laughter, gasping for air in between wheezes. “Holy shit,” he chokes out. “He's really doing it.”
It takes a few minutes, but eventually the bathroom door swings open and Vander exits, looking like he regrets every decision he's made that led him to this.
His face is as red as a tomato as he stomps back over to them in the gigantic underwear.
Mylo and Powder are losing it again, falling over and rolling on the floor with laughter.
Silco is smiling, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “They look even better than I imagined,” he comments.
Vander can hardly look anyone in the eye, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you. I hate you all.”
Claggor looks at Silco and Powder, clearly trying not to laugh. “You guys are terrible,” he says, a trace of a smile on his face.
Vi can't hold back her laughter anymore, she's grinning from ear to ear. “You look... perfect,” she comments through a strangled chuckle.
Vander turns his glare on her, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you all,” he repeats, shaking his head.
Powder is still giggling from the floor. “I want pictures,” she wheezes, holding up her phone.
Vander looks like he wants to smack her head off. “Absolutely not. I forbid it,” he snaps, sounding as serious as someone wearing comically large underwear can.
Powder just pouts, lowering her phone. “Oh, come on,” she says with a whine, looking up at Vander with puppy-dog eyes. “Just a few.”
“No, I'm not having pictures of me in these... embarrassing things circulating the internet.”
“The internet? Who said anything about the internet?” she replies, a smirk on her face. “I just meant... a few for my own personal, um, research.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but Silco chimes in first. “Oh, come on. Humor her. It's the season of giving.”
Vander turns his glare to Silco, his expression almost murderous. “There's no way in hell—”
“Pleeeease?” Powder interrupts, holding out her phone again.
Vander looks like he's about to argue, but Powder is already giving him those damn puppy-dog eyes that he struggles to resist.
He hesitates, then, with a grumble, he sighs. “Fine, one picture.”
Powder looks like a kid on Christmas. The instant the word 'picture' leaves Vander's mouth, she leaps to her feet and lifts up her phone.
“Stand up straighter.”
Vander obeys, reluctantly straightening up.
“Say cheese,” she grins.
Vander grumbles under his breath, but he cooperates. “Cheese,” he mutters, putting on a strained smile.
Powder snaps the picture, then lowers her phone and looks at it with a satisfied smile. “Oh yeah, you're getting on the naughty list for this one,” she grins, wiggling the phone a little.
Once the picture-taking is over and Vander changes his clothes back, Silco motions for Powder to settle down.
“Alright, settle down. It's time to continue with the secret Santa,” Silco says, looking at the others.
They all nod in agreement, still snickering but mostly focusing on the present exchange.
“Who wants to go next?” Silco asks, looking around the group.
Mylo looks around, then grins. “My turn.”
Powder rolls her eyes, knowing that look on his face all too well. “Here we go,” she mutters under her breath, preparing herself for whatever nonsense Mylo is about to come up with.
Mylo smirks, holding up his present. “Well, I drew someone's name... and it was a pretty easy choice.” He then looks around the group with mock innocence. “Oh, where's my victim?”
Claggor lets out a defeated sigh. “Who exactly is the unlucky person this year?”
“There's only one person who I could have possibly chosen…”
“Would you just spit it out before the suspense kills me?” Powder snaps, impatient.
Mylo huffs. “Jeez, have some patience,” he grumbles. “Anyway, my secret santa is…”
Vander sighs, looking like he's already regretting this. Claggor puts his head in his hands, bracing himself.
“My secret santa is, drumroll please…” they reluctantly drum their hands against any surface near them.  “My very special secret Santa is…”
Claggor covers his face with his hands, looking like he's praying.
Mylo grins, looking from face to face, savoring the moment before he does the big reveal.
“My secret Santa... is Powder!”
“Fuck!” she groans, burying her head in her hands.
“Aww, what's the matter, Pow?” Mylo grins, holding up the wrapped present.
Powder lets out another groan, glaring up at him. “You're the worst,” she mutters, looking like she's praying to any god out there to just put her out of her misery already.
Mylo grins, clearly getting a kick out of her misfortune. “Come on, don't be like that. It could be worse, I could have gotten you a box of spiders,” Mylo teases, shaking the present in her direction.
Powder looks like she's seriously considering that as a better option. “You know what? Give me the spiders. Spiders would be better than whatever it is you got me.”
“Nice try. You're not getting out of it that easily,” he says, holding the present just out of her reach. “You have to open it, come on.”
Powder grumbles in protest, then reluctantly reaches out for the present. She snatches it out of his hands, shooting him a glare. “If I die from this, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life,” she mutters, slowly tearing the wrapping paper.
Then, Powder tears back the last piece of wrapping paper, revealing a plain black box. “What the hell is this?” she mutters, looking like she's already fed up with whatever shenanigans Mylo has come up with.
“You're going to have to open it and see for yourself.”
Powder grumbles, giving Mylo a glare that could freeze hell over. She slowly opens the black box, not sure what to expect.
“Please tell me this is not what I think it is,” she mutters, looking like she's two seconds away from throwing the entire box at Mylo's head.
The others lean in closer, curiosity getting the better of them.
“You did not get me what I think you got me.”
“Oh, you're going to have to be more specific than that,” he replies, trying to hide his smirk.
Powder glares at him, her jaw clenching. “You know what I'm talking about,” she snaps, looking like she's contemplating dumping the contents of the box over his head.
Mylo just shrugs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.” 
Vander just rubs his face with one hand, knowing that this situation is about to spiral out of control.
“You're telling me,” Powder hisses through clenched teeth, “that you didn't get me exactly what I think you got me?”
“Like I said, you'll have to be a bit more specific,” he responds, looking entirely too smug for his own good.
Powder looks like she's about to explode. “Mylo, I swear to-”
Claggor cuts her off, knowing that she's about to blow her top. “Calm down, Powder,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I'll calm down when the box goes straight over his head.”
“Why so angry? I thought you'd be excited.”
“I can't wait to make you eat that box,” she mutters, her hands clenching into fists.
“Oh, I'm so scared.”
Vander interjects, trying to diffuse the tension. “That's enough. No need to start throwing things around.”
“I was just having fun.”
“Yeah, have fun with a black eye.”
“Enough,” Silco says, giving both Powder and Mylo stern looks.
Both Mylo and Powder grumble, reluctantly backing down a bit.
“Can we all just get back to opening presents, please?” Vander asks, sounding exasperated.
The others nod in agreement, though Powder still looks like she's not done with Mylo yet. She glares at him one last time before reluctantly returning to her seat.
Mylo just grins, clearly enjoying having gotten the last word in. He takes his own seat next to Claggor, looking very pleased with himself.
The others exchange glances, silently agreeing to not let Powder and Mylo be too close to each other for the rest of the evening.
Silco clears his throat, getting everyone's attention. “Now, who's next?” he asks, looking around the room.
Vander nods, leaning back in his seat. “I'm up next, I guess,” he mutters. He rummages at the gifts under the Christmas tree. After a few moments of searching, Vander finally finds the present he was looking for. He picks it up, holding it in his lap.
“This one's for you,” he says, handing the present to Claggor.
Claggor takes the present, looking curious. He glances down at it, then looks up at Vander with a soft smile. “Thanks,” he says, starting to unwrap it.
Once the wrapping paper is off, Claggor is holding a box of assorted tools. They range from pliers to wrenches to screwdrivers.
“Just like you requested,”  Vander says, watching as Claggor starts inspecting the tools.
“Wow, these are great. Thanks, dad,” he replies, running a hand over the tools in the box.
Vander smiles, clearly pleased to see that Claggor likes his present. “I thought you'd like them. I saw them at the pawnshop the other day and figured you could use them.”
“I definitely will. These are a huge upgrade compared to what I have now.”
Vander reaches over and pats Claggor on the shoulder. “You deserve it. You've been working your ass off lately.”
Vander looks around the room, looking for the next person to take their turn. “Alright, who's up next?” he asks, eyeing everyone lazily.
Mylo's head suddenly snaps up, a smirk on his face. “Oh goodie, it's Vi's turn.”
“Come on, Vi, your turn,” Silco says, looking a little amused.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses,” she mumbles, getting to her feet and making her way over to the christmas tree.
Vi crouches down, rummaging through the presents. After a few moments, she finally finds the present. She grabs it, standing back up. She looks over at you, looking a little bit like she's been caught doing something she's not supposed to do.
She makes her way over to where you're sitting, holding out the present. “Here, this one's for you,” she mutters, looking a little tense.
You take the present from her, looking down at it. It's heavy in your hands, the wrapping paper slightly crinkled from how hard she was holding it. “Thanks, Vi,” you say, looking up at her.
“Don't mention it, babe,” she mutters, her voice sounding a bit strained.
Powder and Mylo both let out a chorus of ‘aww’ when they heard her use the nickname.
“Shut up, you two,” she says, glaring at them both.
You start unwrapping the present, tearing off the festive wrapping paper to reveal what's inside.
Once the wrapping paper is off, you're holding a small box. It's plain, made of brown cardboard, and doesn't look like much. But as you look back up at Vi, you can see a hint of nervousness on her face.
She's watching you intently, her expression almost anxious. It's a look you don't often see on her face, and it's a little startling.
Still curious, you glance back down at the box in your hands. You lift off the lid, opening it slowly.
There, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, is a necklace. It's a silver chain with a small silver heart pendant. It looks delicate and beautiful, and judging by the look on Vi's face, she spent a lot of time picking it out.
You slowly reach into the box, lifting the necklace out of the tissue paper. You hold it up, letting the chain dangle from your fingers. It glints in the light, the pendants catching the glow from the Christmas tree lights.
Vi is still watching you intently, her eyes fixed on the necklace. She shifts a little on her feet, looking like she's holding her breath. 
“Do you like it?”
You look up from the necklace, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I do,” you respond, your voice just a little bit shaky. “It's beautiful.”
You hold the necklace in your hand, running your thumb over the pendant. Without even thinking, you reach up and clasp the necklace around your neck.
It fits snugly against your skin, the pendant resting on your collarbone.
You look up, catching Vi watching you as you adjust the necklace. “Looks good on you,” she says, her voice lower than usual.
“Thanks,” you reply, still running your thumb over the pendant.
Mylo and Powder both let out another chorus of ‘aww’ clearly touched by the sight.
Vi shoots them another glare, her eyes narrowing. “Would you two shut up, for Christ's sake?”
“Oh, come on, sis. It's cute” Powder teases.
“Ah, young love,” Silco says. 
Vander chuckles, nodding his head. “I remember my younger days.”
“Don't you mean your younger hookups?” Silco shoots back.
Vander grins, holding his hands up. “Guilty as charged.”
Silco laughs, shaking his head. “Some things never change.” Then, he glances around the room, looking for who's turn it is next. “Lasty, who's next?” he asks, looking at everyone present.
You look around, seeing that almost everyone has given out their gift. It's obvious that your turn is next. “I'm up next.”
You get to your feet, making your way over to where the presents are. then you hold the present in your hands, not looking up quite yet. You can feel Vi's eyes on you.
This is it. You take a deep breath and look up, meeting her gaze. 
You walk over to her, your heart beating a little faster. You feel a little bit nervous, but you try to push it down.
You stop in front of her, holding out the present. “Here you go, babe.” 
Vi's expression softens a bit, her eyes darting down to the gift in your hands. She reaches out and grabs it, looking slightly puzzled.
You watch silently as she unwraps the gift. 
Vi looks at it, her eyebrows raised. “Is this... a sweater?” she asks, a little bewildered. It's clearly hand-knit, with uneven stitching and a clashing color scheme.
“I made it myself,”
“You made it?” she asks. “Like, with your own two hands?”
“Obviously..”
“I mean... it's…” she starts, her voice trailing off as she tries to find the right words.
“It's hideous?” you suggest.
She winces a little, looking like she can't deny it. “Yeah, kinda…” she mutters.
“Hey,” you say, mock-indignant. “I spent a lot of time making that, you know.”
“I can tell.”
“Then, try it on.”
Vi hesitates for a moment, looking at you a little warily. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” you nudge her. “Just try it on, for me.”
She sighs, clearly realizing there's no way out of this. “Fine.”
She pulls it over her head, struggling a bit to get her arms through the sleeves. The fit is a little awkward, and the sweater seems a little too small. But somehow, it kind of makes her look... cute?
She tugs at the sleeves, looking down at herself. “How do I look?” 
You pretend to look her over, like you're seriously considering the question. “I dunno,” you reply. “it's... something.”
“Be serious. I look like an idiot, don't I?”
“Don't be like that” you tease, reaching out to straighten the collar of the sweater. “It's not that bad.”
“Not ‘that bad?’” she repeats. “Are you kidding? I look like a walking christmas tree,” she groans, tugging at the sleeves yet again.
“I think you look…. fine”
“That's the best you've got? 'fine?'”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don't know,” she mutters, sounding slightly petulant. “Something more than just 'fine’”
“Okay, okay,” you say, holding up your hands. “Let me rephrase that, you look…” you pause, scratching your chin “...very christmas-y”
“You really know how to boost a girl's ego.”
“I didn't realize you needed your ego stroked.”
“I don't,” she protests, a little flustered. “I'm just saying, a little bit more enthusiasm would be appreciated.”
Silco clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Ahem, now that the present giving is concluded…” he glances around at the crowd.
Silence falls over the room as everyone waits for Silco to speak. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock is the only sound that can be heard.
Silco glances at the clock, a smile on his face. “It appears to be midnight,” he says, pausing for emphasis. “Which means…”
A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” rises up from the group, everyone sounding festive and cheerful. 
You look back to Vi, who is still fiddling with the sweater. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper, not wanting the others to hear.
She glances at you, a small smile touching her lips. “Merry Christmas to you too,” she replies, her voice just as quiet as yours.
Awkwardly you glance down at the carpet, unsure of what to say next. 
“Hey,” she says suddenly, her voice drawing your attention. “Can I talk to you for a second…? In private?”
“Sure,” you agree, following her as she leads you away from the group.
She leads you into a small back room, closing the door behind her. The room is dimly lit, with only a few bare light bulbs lining the walls. Aside from a few boxes and some old crates, the room is empty.
She turns to face you, leaning against the wall. She's quiet for a moment, her gaze averted to the floor. you can tell she's trying to find the right words, fiddling with the hem of the sweater again.
“Listen,” she begins, finally meeting your eyes. “I know this is weird, and I know things are... difficult right now. But…” she pauses, letting out a short sigh. “I just want to say one thing…”
“Go on,” you encourage.
“I…” she starts, then falters. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, nervousness flitting across her features. Her gaze drops to the floor.
“Well, I just…” her fingers fumble at the edge of her sweater. “I just... I miss you.”
Your heart skips a beat as she finally says the words out loud.
You've been wanting her to say that for weeks, months even. After everything that's happened between the two of you, you desperately wanted to hear those very words fall from her lips. But now that she's saying it...
What the hell do you say to that?
You're speechless, stunned into silence by her honesty. You open your mouth, intending to say something, anything. but words seem completely lost to you at this point. You just stand there, staring at her, dumbfounded.
“Say something,” she finally says, her voice tense. “Say anything. You're just staring at me like an idiot.”
“I don't know what to say.” Because, you really don't know what to say. You have so much you want to say, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat.
“Say you hate me. Say you never want to get back together. Just... say something.”
She's waiting. Waiting for something, anything. An opinion, a response. something, anything from you. But what can you say? Do you tell her the truth—that you've missed her so much you can't even sleep at night? that the last month has felt like a living hell, having no contact with her?
You want to tell her that you hate her for throwing you away just to come back around wanting something from you again, but your tongue feels like cotton.
“Say something… yell at me, curse me out, anything!”
But her tone gets under your skin, and suddenly you feel the anger start to build inside of you. 
Who does she think she is, demanding a response from you? she's the one who tossed you aside without a second thought. You're sick of this. You've done everything for her, given her everything she wanted, and here she is, pushing you for more.
It is too much—all too much. Without a word, you turn from her, heading toward the door. You can't do this anymore. 
You hear her call out your name as you shove open the door, but you don't stop. You make your way back, stopping at Vander's side.
“Vander, I'm going to head out.”
Vander nods, giving you a knowing look. He can tell something's going on, but he's wise enough not to press the issue.
“Alright, kid,” he says gruffly. “Get some rest, yeah?”
You nod your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I'll try,” you mutter, giving him a wave before starting towards the exit.
When you pass by Silco, he gives you a curious look. You catch his gaze and give him a small nod.
Finally, you make your way out the front door. The cold night air hits your face, making you shiver. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the walk home.
But then you hear the door swing open behind you, her footsteps hurry after you.
“Wait!” her voice calls out. “Wait, stop!”
You keep walking, your steps quick. You're trying to get as far away from her as possible to outrun all of the feelings that came rushing back to you—
“Let me walk you home.”
Her words cut through your thoughts, sharp and unexpected. You falter, your steps slowing down.
You stop walking, turning around to face her. “What?”
She's standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Her shoulders are slumped, her expression sheepish. She can tell you're not happy she's followed you out here, but she looks like she doesn't care.
She lets out a huff, her breath coming out in a white cloud in the cold air. “I just... look, whatever happened in there, whatever happened between us... just let me look out for you. Just let me walk you home. I.. I have to know you're safe.”
“I don't need a babysitter,” you practically growl, your irritation obvious. “I can handle myself.”
Vi flinches at your words, but she doesn't back down. If anything, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I know you can,” she snaps. “I'm not offering to babysit you. I'm just... I'm just asking to walk you home.”
You glance back at the entrance of their house, the warm lights and sounds spilling out into the cold night air. 
You turn back to look at her, your voice softer this time. “You don't have to walk me home. We don't have to keep up the act anymore, I'm going home and... you've got better things to do than worry about me.”
“Screw the act,” she mutters. “I'm walking you home. It's not up for debate.”
You stare at her, baffled by her insistence. “Seriously? What's the point, Vi? We're not together anymore. Why bother?”
Her jaw clenches, her shoulders tensing. You know she hates this. She hates hearing you say it. Her heart is on her sleeve, and you're tearing pieces out of it, right in front of her.
“Because I care!” she snaps. “Maybe it's hard for you to believe, but I still care about you.”
You shake your head, scoffing at her words. “No, no, no, you don't get to act like you care now. You're the one who broke up with me. You're the one who walked away and left me.”
“I made a mistake,okay? I was a damn idiot, and I screwed up.”
“A mistake?” you echo, scoffing again. “You ended everything, and now you want to walk me home? What, you think that makes up for everything? You think it’s that easy? You threw away everything we had like it meant nothing, like all those months we spent together meant nothing.”
Your voice is trembling with anger as you continue. “And then what did you do? You went around, throwing yourself at anyone that gave you a second glance, like I never meant anything to you. Yeah, I know all about that. So don't try to act like you actually care when you clearly didn't give two shits.”
She looks away, her jaw clenching. “I was trying to get over you. I was trying to push you out of my head and it hurts like hell. Every night, every morning, it was like there was a hole inside of me, and no matter how hard I tried to fill it, no matter how many times I went out, how many times I tried to forget you, nothing worked. You were stuck in my head, and I hated it.”
She takes a step closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid. I know it doesn't make any sense. I just... I needed something to distract me, something to keep me from thinking about you. Because it hurt too damn much to think about how much I messed things up.”
“Yeah, congrats. You did a damn good job at distracting yourself, huh? It sure as hell didn't take you very long to get over me.”
She winces again, the guilt written all over her face. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you. How many times I thought about coming back to you and begging you to take me back.”
“But you didn't,” you say. “You didn't reach out to me, you didn't try to fix things. So why should I believe you now? Why should I believe that you're sincere when you didn't care enough to fight for us before?”
She looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “What was I supposed to do?” she whispers. “I messed up. I messed things up and I don't know how to fix it. I don’t know how to take back what I did, how to make things like they were before I messed up. All I know is that I miss you. I miss you so damn much, and I’d do anything to have you back.”
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. Everything she's saying, it's everything you've wanted to hear for months. It feels like a dream.
But you can’t let yourself fall back into this. Not when you’ve worked so hard to move on. Not when you’ve spent so many nights crying into your pillow, reminding yourself that she didn’t care enough to fix things, to fight for you.
“Why now—Why do you want me back now, after all this time? Why didn’t you want me back when it mattered, when I needed you?”
She looks up at you, desperation in her eyes. “Because I was an idiot! Because I was stupid, and scared, and I thought walking away would make it easier, but it just made it worse. Because I spent every damn night regretting that I let you go and wishing that I could take it all back. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for what I put you through.”
“Sorry doesn't fix things,” you say, your voice shaking. “Sorry doesn't take away the pain, sorry doesn't undo what you did.”
She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know saying sorry won't magically fix things, but I am sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for walking away, I'm sorry for everything I did wrong. Just... just give me a chance. Give me a chance to make things right.”
She takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “Give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I love you and that I want to make things right. If I screw up again, you can toss me to the curb and never speak to me again. But please, just give me one more chance.”
“I don't know,” you murmur. “I just... I don't know.”
“I'll do anything. I'll get on my knees every day if I have to. I'll beg on my hands and knees. I'll crawl on my hands and knees. I'll grovel on the ground. Just... please, just give me one chance.”
“I'll think about it. Just...just give me some time to think things over.”
“Okay, okay. I'll give you time or whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out completely.”
Without hesitation, she envelops you in a tight hug. Her arms wrap around your waist, her face burying into your neck. Her body clings to you, every part of her desperate and needy. “I miss you so much,” she mumbles.
You stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But then, your body betrays you, your arms slowly wrapping around her.
For the first time in a long while, you're holding her again. Her warmth, her scent, her touch—it’s all so familiar, so painfully familiar. So damn familiar that it hurts.
“I hate you.”
“I don't blame you,” she pulls back a little, her hands coming up to cup your face.
She lifts her hand, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I hate you so much,” you repeat, a tear falling down your cheek.
“I deserve that,” she says, her thumbs gently wiping away your tear.
“Damn right you do.”
You have no idea what to do or what to feel. Everything is a mess, and you're drowning in it.
For now, all you could do was hold her tight and bury your face in her shoulder. 
You hated how good she felt against you and how right it felt to be held by her. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat whenever she whispered in your ear. 
Damn her for making things so confusing, for making you feel so damn much.
You felt her hand rubbing your back, her fingers tracing circles over your skin. It was a soothing gesture, a silent apology for all the pain she had caused. It only made things worse, making your heart ache even more.
If only things had been different. If only she had been more communicative. If only she had been more sensitive to your feelings. If only she had been there for you when you needed her.
If only she hadn’t walked away and left you broken. If only she hadn’t hurt you the way she had.
And most of all, if only you had been strong enough to push her away and protect yourself from this mess.
But here you are, standing in the middle of a street wrapped in her arms. You felt like a fool, like a damn idiot, for still wanting her after everything.
You wanted to hate her, you wanted to make her suffer the way you had suffered.
But how could you hate her when she was looking at you like that? how could you hate her when she was holding you like this?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she still had this kind of effect on you. 
Her eyes met yours, and you saw everything you had missed, everything you had longed for. and you knew, right then, that you were in damn trouble.
In the window, Vander and Silco watched you and Vi from afar, the soft glow of the christmas lights casting shadows over their faces.
Silco takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he exhales. “Your little plan worked quite well,” he says, looking at Vander with a sly smile.
Vander just shrugs, sipping his drink. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replies, keeping his expression neutral.
“You're not fooling anyone.”
Vander hums, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know what you mean,” he says again, keeping his gaze locked on you and Vi.
Silco let out a puff of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don't play coy, Vander. You knew damn well what you were doing when you rigged that secret santa.”
“I may have had a little influence,” he admits.
“A little influence? oh, don't downplay it. You wanted them back together, and you knew exactly how to make it happen.”
“I have had a hunch that they still cared about each other,” he says, his voice casual. “And plus, I don't want to see Vi moping around for the past months.”
“And we couldn't have that, could we? seeing her moping around like a lovestruck puppy.”
Vander nods. “She was really terrible at hiding it,” he says. “always pacing around, always looking like she lost a puppy.”
Silco takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing rings into the air. “It was painful to watch,” he says, shaking his head.
“It was like watching a kid trying to hide a secret… I just hope they figure things out.”
“I agree,” Silco says, his eyes flickering over to you and Vi. “Hopefully they can work things out.”
Vander hums in agreement. “Only time will tell.”
They watch in silence for a moment, seeing how you and Vi are still holding each other.
“I still wouldn't forgive you for that damn underwear you got me.”
“That was the funniest thing you could have received.”
Vander grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Silco. “I do not find it funny to receive underwear as a gift.”
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notes: idk what is happening
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sayangrafayel · 19 days ago
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Sylus singing to MC's belly when MC is pregnant
Sylus, singing: Hush little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mocking bird, and if that mocking bird won't sing, papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring~
[The Interview]
MC: Mama'd buy ten diamond rings to get that mocking bird to shut the hell up.
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1K notes · View notes
acid-ixx · 23 days ago
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before the bell rings (a loving family, an unpalatable desire spin-off)
ft. romatic yandere bruce wayne x gn reader x platonic yandere batfam.
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tw: slight nsfw. bruce watches and kisses you while you sleep. in no way, shape or form do i condone this behavior irl.
ihave a raging headache but i don't care because i love making spin-offs of my original series'. and now i've been thinking of something related to a loving family, an unpalatable desire where just like again &. again being the opposite of like him, in this current universe i'm writing about;
you're much too loved by your husband, bruce wayne.
there are eyes everywhere when you two have been into the first stages of your marriage. he may have proposed to you for the sake and promises of protection both your families agreed upon from when martha and thomas and alive— your relationship must've been purely transactional during your childhood; but in the process of knowing you better during the planning for your wedding, in the process of grief and accepting his parents' deaths, a broken childhood and cold glances—
bruce came to love the comfort and warmth you offered him.
the entire time he was convinced that your marriage will be all but a distant relationship all throughout planning for possible venues, cake designs, guests and attires; a task he chose to uphold for the sake of your preference of a picture perfect wedding and his reputation to keep in public.
it was all that, mere promises to maintain cordiality.
there would be no affectionate touches, or the need for intimacy during both your honeymoon stages. he respects your boundaries, and you do with his privacy. after the entire wedding, everything will return to normal; with the added fact that you'd simply be living in his mansion with no qualms to bother him whatsoever.
those were unsaid agreements that you yourself knew to abide by. you were never close with the man you'd be married with during childhood, after all. for him, you must've been a checklist for him to fulfill his parents' will; there was no love before or after his grief, not even when you'd attend the funeral and expressed your apologies for the loss— his eyebrows furrowing at your shorter form, but never quite looking at you.
younger you knew it was the protection that will be granted, and never the love you wanted, but you still held on to that flicker of hope that somehow, someday you'll eventually form an amicable bond with your soon-to-be husband.
yet to you, he was the only ticket way out of your abusive home life, one filled with not only coldness, but sharp glares from a mother who never wanted you and painful beatings from a father who criticizes his own child's every mistake, each hit more painful than the last.
as much as you desire something more homely from your soon to be husband, you've long since accepted that your life will never be filled with visceral love that eats you up, love whose hands tangle upon your hair not out of sheer hatred but desire, love whose strong arms raise you up in the air rather than raises itself up to hit you.
and as you both prepare for your wedding, an air of awkwardness and discomfort was expected. backs turned, never facing each other, your eyes never quite looking at his, and unwanted brushes of each other's bodies bumping into each other translates itself to tension and mere desire to get over the plans just as quickly.
bruce tells himself, it will all be over soon. this is necessary to keep up facades and earn more connections. he hasn't been as close with childhood friends after his parents' death, hence why he was too ruffled to properly communicate with his partner after years of isolation from peers. he knows you know to understand that fact.
you tell yourself that as much as your heart aches at the impending doom that you wouldn't be able to spend time with your husband as much after the entire fiasco of dealing with wedding arrangements, with wayne enterprises and hundreds of other duties to fulfill— you've nothing to do but embrace that mere fact.
so it was all that.
bruce will never love you as much as you force yourself to love each and every flawed part of him. the first steps of planning your marriage already reflected what would soon be the damning years of a loveless courtship.
love is painful, loving bruce will be painful. your heart will never flutter at the meaningless bouquet of flowers he'd gift you, or jewelry that was never your preference, all because you both knew it was a necessary farce to make things prettier on the outside. bruce can never learn to love again after the heartbreak of losing two of his loved ones.
all that.
yet the longer you two spend time in the same room in stuffy outfit fittings and bakeries whose warmth both your loves you thought would never quite reach— the more bruce notices the slight quirk of your lips every time he guessed your favorite color or design, the gleam in your eyes glowing brighter at him choosing what he thought would be the perfect confectionaries for reception, and the tiny claps and soft tugs at the cuffs of his sleeve the more he chooses to accommodate each and every preference of yours.
he starts to fall, not out of hindsight. he was never an obvious man, no.
but he fell in love, either way.
with your habits, the way your hands gesture your excitement, and the shy grin you show his way whenever he pursues physical affection to you in both private and public; with you melting into his once stiff chest and ridged shoulders, hands wrapped around your waist, head slowly nuzzling into the crown of your hair. sometimes he'd be brave enough to caress your hips and run his fingers through the flesh between your neck and shoulders.
every damn time he takes a newer risk, every time, you'd be left shocked, yet never pushing away at his ministration.
a surprise that rewires your perception of him in your mind— not less pleasant nonetheless.
he falls in love whenever his heart beats faster— a feeling he thought he'd never come across after years of hardened training— at the way you buzz every time he proposes you two go out on dates, at your unheard gasps whenever he actually gives you bouquets of your favorite flowers as gifts, at your incoherent mumbles as you two walk through the farmer's market with his body shielding you from stalking paparazzi's and countless of admires; your mouth forming words, brows furrowed, oblivious at bruce's unwavering gaze and arms ready to rest upon your shoulders as if he never once hesitated to touch you.
and he soon realizes that he begins to yearn sleeping in the same room as you. you still stay at your home at the time being, only to be housed at his right after your marriage— but bruce loses sleep all the same. at thoughts of what you would feel like all pressed up against him, the warmth that emanates off your body every time your arms would explore his chest, and how he'd wake up to your wide, intoxicating smile, calling him, bruce wayne, your husband as you caress him and tell him breakfast is ready.
he could picture you sitting beside him, your arms unknowingly on his thighs because you crave physical affection, your attention on both your children, chattering with them as if you were always their parent. he sees you scolding damian for sneaking food under the table for his, telling jason and tim off for arguing yet again, whilst dick laughs at his brother's clumsy way of eating with barbara rebuking his statements. you'll always be the first person cass would talk to about her ballet recitals, the one duke chides for advice about which club to choose, and steph's first choice every time she stumbles upon drama.
the entire atmosphere would be spontaneous. there could be small fights, little debates and sometimes even tension, yet they listen to you nevertheless. at your pretty voice giving them an earful altogether whilst bruce would worship you with his hungry eyes, forgetting the breakfast on his plate just to hold himself back from the urge to pepper kisses on you in front of the family.
the perfect dream, like a gomez to his morticia who admires every side of them. their beauty, their sadness, anger and flaws. you complete him, he only realizes at such a late time.
just as quick as he imagines those fantasies, bruce would find himself stalking through the confines of your family home as batman; confirming to himself your breathing patterns, the flutter of your eyes, soft mumbles, and your tight hold on one of your pillows, wishing it was him instead. there, he takes in the state of your room: the decor, your wallpapers, each and every trinkets and hobbies you've collected all over the years; and most importantly, just how small and confined your room is, yet cozy at the same time.
the manor would be your castle soon enough, and he promises that it would feel as homely as your previous room. he promises that you wouldn't be sleeping alone eventually. you'll be so loved... so cared for. he'll learn to properly love you, how to touch you in all the ways he could imagine, to kiss parts left neglected, to satiate the hunger watching you every damn time.
every night, he gains newer information about you as you sleep oblivious to the presence looming above you. every night, he notes the texture of your bedsheet, the blankets that hug at your body tightly, the pillows you drool on and the softness of your mattress.
he'd ruffle your hair, and begin to trudge closer and closer to you, to the point his confidence would be at an all time high and he'd be breathing the same pattern as you, body nearly pressed atop yours as his hands tangle itself upon your messy hair. bruce watches your skin bathe in the moonlight's glow, he admires the slow rise and fall of your chest and the delicious peaks of skin from the fabric that threatens to fall.
his desire only grows stronger, his willpower grows weaker all the same.
and at a time of momentary weakness, at the passion that drips off his body merely watching you, at the unsated hunger and moments of restricting himself from touching you too much during your times together— he kisses you while still sleeping, deeply and unregretful at his choice. devouring your lips, wishing he could instead feel his tongue pressing against yours, and licking at the drool that escapes from his relentless kisses. his hands would be on either side of your head, but his thighs pin your waist, heavy and unrelenting on moving from its position.
when he lets go, he laps at his lips for any remaining taste of you, hardwiring the memory into the deepest, most sinful parts of his brain, and admires your beauty from up close. bruce watches just how angelic you look sprawled atop a bed that soon would be big enough to fit two, he sees the smile slowly forming on your face, and the giggles that erupt all while you still remain asleep.
you must've been dreaming something pleasant. he hopes that it is him, he hopes that it would be him lavishing you in his love.
and he'll be coming back home right after pecking your lips and cheeks one last time, before leaving your room, to sleep in his bed all alone after a night of a passionate endeavor. he'll be dreaming of a night with you, every night with you in fact. of your pleasured closed-eyed smile in bed and arms that reach to wrap around his body like you do your pillows. he'll cover you like a blanket with his warmth, too.
and you'll always be in his mind, even as he wakes up every morning after another day of sleepless patrol, without you by his side, without your body pressed tightly against his, without the feeling of your plush skin on his scarred one, or the melody of your snores and flutter of your eyes at the light that hits it; bruce would never be satisfied.
in fact, he begins to crave for more as he touches his lips, remembers how easily pinned you are, how fitting your body is wrapped around his. he realizes that mere fantasies would only serve as distractions, he realizes that he needs the real thing.
soon, he'll invite you to the manor, all in his own accord, without hesitation or implications that it was all for mere planning.
there you would be, shy and modestly greeting his children. bruce notices the way your finger shivers, and the barely concealed smile that makes it way to your face when you finally meet your soon-to-be family, your soon-to-be children.
unaware, oblivious to the night he took your first-kiss. he knows it is your first kiss, you've written it in a journal of yours that you're saving it for whoever is your future husband— it's only right that he prides himself in the fact that he is your fiance.
he notices how well you fit in the manor, how you're such a perfect match to the neverending energy of adrenaline to fight and to patrol, acting as a mediator, a peacemaker to the hustle and bustle of spontaneous fights and arguments that alfred used to deal with alone. and his children—?
god, his children love you.
after first impressions, after you spend time coddling beside your fiance, talking to each and every one of them with a fond smile; acting as if they're all already your children without any second thoughts, never forcing yourself into their lives or invading private topics or inside jokes like the other suitors interested in bruce who visited; after you leave the manor despite their insistence that you stay—
all of them took it in their hands to help you both prepare for the wedding arrangements; damian made a comment to push for the wedding date to be way earlier. dick says he'd be in charge of the music, steph butts in saying she knows how to play the piano, cass opens up about performing a ballet piece during the wedding, duke suggests alfred should be handling the food, barbara says she has connections with entertainment factions, tim states matterof fact that he will be organizing the entire schedule, even jason insists on attending, just simply disguised amongst the background.
it would've been a marriage where it's only your side of the family who attend, an agreement you both settled for in the earlier stages of planning, but...
if the family loves you so much at just a first impression then...
bruce wayne loves his spouse even more.
and you, being the hopeless romantic you ever are, craving intimacy at such a young age from the lack of it, took the bait and fell into his controlling hold when you've still had the chance to back out.
after all, what is love without sacrifices?
soon enough, what once were lingering, unsure touches would be bruce holding you tightly against his chest like you two were puzzle pieces fit perfectly together. he was never the type to compliment through words, but every time you wear your favorite shade or those that matches his suit colors every time you both go out for outings, his bright blue, yet dull eyes would glimmer in the sunlight, taking in your entire form. he'll kiss you for what feels longer than half a minute, and sometimes even pin you down against the mahogany door of the office if it meant he was that pleased.
you love the attention, you bask at just how easy it is to love his children. even if their personalities contrast, even through the fights they sometimes have in front of you; none ever lash out at you for breaking it up, even the youngest, damian, who would always be the most violent amongst the siblings.
hell, he'd always be the most possessive, the most demanding of your attention for whenever you stray too close to his other siblings. always glaring, always picking up fights and insulting everyone, but never directing anything at you, even threatening to bite those who dare touch any gifts you give him.
yet you love them, either way, and you've come to love bruce, too. at the most unexpected of times, even. you love it when his touches linger a bit longer, you buzz with joy every time he'd hide your face from paparazzi and hold you tighter, never once letting a hand stray far away from your body, always having you in his arms just like how your perfect fantasies would always play in your head.
and even if you're still unaware of bruce's identity of being batman, the same hero you used to fear, you still insist on kissing bruce's scars that he always comes home with every night after patrol. you let yourself become a treasure he worships, you allow him to kiss you, defile you, and never once let you out alone anymore— your occasional manor visits before your marriage turned into countless of nights spent under a roof with people you thought you'd never be... that closely intimate with.
it is only before the wedding bell rings that bruce falls in love with you, and it would soon be after that you realize just how trapped you truly are.
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reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: after this, i will return to hibernation. and if anybody asks, yes, superman wanting to smash you in this au is still canon. and yes, he will find a way to persuade you in smashing him.
taglist: @donnaaurelia, @prince-nikko, @neerathebrightstar (i hope u like this :))), @mr-celestial-writings, @glasscurrents, @sh4rk-k1d, @vellichor-and-hiraeth, @sammytheotakunerd.
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plethorawrites · 21 days ago
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How the batboys would react to you labeling them as your property.
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Bruce: You'd been helping Alfred label things in the attic all day and at the end, you print one extra, pressing a sticker that had "Property of—" your name written on it. You stuck it on the breast pocket of his suit before an event you weren't able to go to because of other obligations, just to make sure no one else would try to flirt with him and he didn't even notice until halfway through the evening. It was the most peace and quiet he'd gotten in a while (Aside from a picture in the press with a headline that read "BRUCE WAYNE SO SMITTEN HE'S BECOMING PROPERTY".) When he got home, he gave you a small disapproving glare and pulled it off, watching you frown dramatically. A few days later he hands you a small box with the label inside of it, properly laminated and made into a little pin for him to wear to any event you couldn't be there for.
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Dick: You bought a label maker and were OBSESSED with it, to say the least. What started as a project to organize some cabinets and spices turned into the entire apartment becoming labeled with item names or the stuff that specifically belonged to him or you. You labeled your milk, because you knew he'd finish your very specific kind without caring. You labeled your hairbrush, in hopes he'd stop getting his hair in it whenever he used yours because he couldn't find his. And you labeled him. He frowned, feeling you place something on his back and shrugged his jacket off, checking to see what it was. Your name had been printed on a label, attached to it his jacket. He smirked in amusement, watching you shrug lightly as if you had no idea why he was grinning. Then, he pulled it back on, taking the label maker from you and officially revoking your privileges as he offered to take you lunch, not bothering to pull the label off.
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Jason: You were bored, watching from the couch as he read quietly one evening in his favorite chair. You spent all day organizing stuff around the apartment on his day off with him occasionally looking up to glance at you before turning a page. When you were finally done, he was still reading, almost at the end of the book in his hands. You fiddled with the label maker, pressing some buttons and printing out your name next to the words 'loves Jason' and then stuck it to his sleeve. He didn't even glance at it. So you printed another. And another. Until his sleeve was mostly full, so you stuck the next one on his cheek. That finally broke him and his lips tugged into a reluctant smile, having known the entire time what label you'd been attaching to him. He set the finished book down and pulled the label maker out of your hand, printing one that said he loves you in return, and sticking it on your shoulder before getting up and tackling you on the couch, his arms wrapping around your waist, tickling you as he buried his face in your neck while you laughed.
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3amfanfiction · 3 months ago
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You know what one of my favorite tropes is?
When reader starts dating someone in the 141 and quickly finds out that they’re a package deal.
The first time you meet the rest of them (very early on) they’re hovering around the edges, just waiting to be let into the group, like a pack of shy dogs wanting attention and to be loved but scared of demanding it, scared of frightening you away.
And then you look at all of them, truly look—at this captain who always has to be right. If he’s not right 100% of the time then people he cares about get hurt.
At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.
At this handsome sergeant, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to follow in his captains footsteps, but the steps are so large he scrambles behind, always feeling like he’s never going to catch up.
At this energetic sergeant who has been shooed away again and again, never finding the person with the patience to deal with his attention. Always loud, always restless, looking forward to the next thing.
And you’re standing there looking at them—deciding if you want to let them into your home, into your life.
Because they are a unit, and you can pull one out for a short time but they will end up wound back into the twisted rope before the end.
So you do.
You let them in.
But they are dogs through and through. Pack animals to their core and you’re part of them now.
No going back from here.
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em-ontv · 29 days ago
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Need some space — d.w.
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader
Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could
Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!
Word count: 912
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Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.
Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.
"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"
"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."
You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.
"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."
"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."
Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.
When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.
"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.
"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.
"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.
You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.
You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.
"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.
"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.
Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."
"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."
"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.
And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.
"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.
Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.
"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"
"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."
He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.
It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.
Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.
"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.
He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.
"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.
"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.
Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."
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jaythes1mp · 2 months ago
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The Incident
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Before the incident, you were no one special. 
Growing up, your family belonged to the middle class, your mother a waitress and your father a construction worker. You were an only child, raised by your grandmother from a very young age, as your parents were young and unfit to care for you. Choosing to spend their time working and partying with their friends rather than looking after their baby.
You hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges in your area, so you resulted in making a basic wage by working dual jobs. Saving up just enough money for some scrappy apartment on the outskirts of Gotham.
One afternoon, just before you were able to clock out of another grooly ten-hour shift, six masked women had smashed through the front windows, raiding the store.
The back room was dimly lit, with only a couple dusty desk lamps shedding any kind of light. You were shoved to the ground and forced to sit amongst the other victims while the women gathered whatever they came for. One of them, presumably the leader, began to count the people they had captured, when she stopped and took notice of you. It was the luck of the draw, really. 
You were terrified, practically trembling as the barrel was shoved up against your temple, the hard shove against your front being the only warning to move. 
You don’t remember much after that. Seeing four of the infamous masked fighters coming to rescue your fellow workers and subdue the other robbers. You, however, weren’t as lucky.
Just as the blunt edge of Robin’s katana was slammed into the side of the woman’s weapon, a shot rang out, echoing throughout the walls. 
The weapon was knocked to the ground by the force, completely out of her reach, and she was wrestled to the ground by the vigilantes.
You’re not sure why you fell, but everything suddenly felt warm.
As the room around you grew dizzy, your head spinning from the impact, the world around you felt like it was slowly fading, blurring and darkening at the edges of your vision. The ground was growing sticky beneath you at a rapid rate, turning dark as the deep red liquid began to seep and pour out around you like a spreading fire.
You remember all four of the vigilantes rushing towards you, their faces twisted into panicked masks unlike anything you had ever seen, not even the one time when you had broken your arm as a child. They were more worried than your father would have been at the thought of you dead. 
Oh... I’m dying.
You wanted to chuckle at how absurd it was. You were barely twenty four, and here you were, lying on the cold, dirty floor of a back room, shot through the chest. 
Fuck, my chest hurts.
A deep, shaky breath left your lips, watching as the last few moments of your life were spent looking at the frantic and worried faces of Gotham's heros.
You weren’t sure why they were so devastated. They had all seen death before, first hand. You shouldn't have been any different. There was nothing special about you. You were just an average, worthless citizen, no friends, a shitty job, and an even shittier apartment.
Your hand moved to the hole in your chest, a pained scream ripping through your lips, your eyes squeezed shut.
Then it all went black.
Or.. at least it should have.
Instead, you woke up. 
Gasping frantically for air, you looked around, your heart racing. The looks of the worried teens around you were inconsequential.
Your hands flew to your chest, clawing at the covered skin, looking for the bullet wound that had once been there. It's gone…
A deep, shaky breath left your lips, a relieved sigh following right after.
Then, you finally looked up to meet the eyes of your tenth grade literature teacher.
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After the incident, you had found yourself flung back nine years into the past. However, this time, things were different from how you remember them to be.
Now, a cocky, billionaire’s son was claiming to be your best friend, your neighbours, who you vaguely remember having been old, crabby couples, were now completely different. Your old friends were nowhere to be found, And the ever prevalent vigilantes in Gotham seemed almost obsessed with you.
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This is a slightly over-detailed synopsis.
I created this idea while I was working on chapter three for Here, Kitty.
If you’d like me to make this drabble into full chapters, then please reblog, comment, or message me. If it gets no interaction then I will understand that it was a shit concept and drop it. If not, then I have a lot of ideas for how the plot will spiral, and a potential twist-ending.
IF anyone was interested in it, then it would include both the BatFamily and SuperFamily, as yanderes.
Thank you for reading through all of this, lovely readers💚 Feel free to send in any suggestions or questions!!
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pastryfication · 2 months ago
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Can you do another Piastri family fic where the reader is in pain or smth and Oscar can’t be there to help her so his family does xx
PAIN, MORE PAIN
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pairing: oscar piastri x reader warnings: mentions of appendicitis & reader being in terrible pain.
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the apartment you share with oscar in melbourne feels impossible big and lonely. the bed feels cold and strangely empty despite the humongous amount of throw pillows you have laying around.
the loneliness is something you’ve grown used to, but the loneliness mixed with this terrible pain in your stomach is too much to bear.
it hit you suddenly, no warning signs in sight, and now you lie curled up in the middle of the soft sheets, clutching your stomach as waves of unfamiliar, sharp pain hit, relentless and terrifying.
your hand trembles as you reach for your phone. oscar is thousands of miles away, getting much needed rest before the race. you know it’s late where he is—too late to be calling. you hesitate, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. you shouldn’t bother him. shouldn’t steal away his focus—what could he do either way?
but as you curl even further into yourself, helplessness consuming you, it becomes too much, and you feel so weak. weak, helpless, and scared.
scared enough to press the call button. shame, guilt, pain, and more pain fills you as you watch your phone ring in silence.
oscar—your absolute angel of a boyfriend—picks up after a few rings, his voice groggy from sleep but instantly alert when he hears the panic in yours. “hey, love. what’s wrong?”
“i didn’t want to wake you,” you start, the guilt gnawing at you. “but something’s really wrong. my stomach . . .” you let out a involuntary whimper. “it hurts so bad, osc. i don’t know what to do.”
there’s a brief pause, and you can practically hear him sitting up in bed, a deep frown taking over his features. “how bad is it? have you taken anything? should i call a doctor?”
“i don’t know,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your side, trying to breathe through the pain. “it’s getting worse. i can barely move.”
“damn it,” oscar mutters angrily under his breath. “i wish i was there with you. but listen, i’m calling my mum. she’ll come and take you to the hospital. you need to get checked out, okay? don’t argue with me.”
you start to protest, your instinct telling you to handle things on your own. “oscar, i don’t want to bother her—”
“you’re not bothering anyone,” he cuts you off firmly. there’s no room for argument in his voice. “you’re in pain. we’re not messing around with this. i’m calling her now, and i’ll stay on the phone until she gets there. promise me you’ll let her help.”
you’re too exhausted to argue anymore, the pain blurring the edges of everything and you desperately want to cry. “okay,” you mumble, feeling a small wave of relief knowing help is on the way despite everything.
oscar keeps talking to you—for once, he’s the one doing the most talking—trying to keep you calm as he calls his mum. within minutes, she’s on her way, and oscar is back on the line, his voice soft but urgent. “she’ll be there soon, love. just hang in there.”
his words are comforting, but the pain is becoming unbearable, and by the time you hear the soft knock on the door, tears are slipping uncontrollably down your face. you barely manage to shuffle to the door, clutching your side, and open it to find nicole standing there, her face etched with worry. she takes one look at you and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders.
“oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, guiding you toward the couch. “you don’t look good at all. let’s get you to the hospital.”
even more tears spill over at that. it’s not just the pain, it’s the overwhelming sense of being cared for. nicole doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if it’s too much trouble. she’s just there, steady and reliable.
“i’m sorry,” you whisper, hesitating to meet her eyes. “i didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
nicole shakes her head, already helping you into the car with a comforting arm around you. “don’t be ridiculous, love. you’re part of the family now. we look after each other.”
her words settle over you like a warm blanket, and you blink back more tears, grateful for the maternal gentleness she offers.
the ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and exhaustion as nicole speeds toward the emergency room. her hand reaches out to squeeze yours at every chance she gets, the worry in her eyes almost overwhelming.
when you finally arrive, nicole is by your side every step of the way, holding your hand as you’re wheeled into the exam room and after what feels like hours, the doctor finally returns with a diagnosis: appendicitis. you’ll need surgery, and soon.
oscar’s voice cracks through the phone when he hears the news. “i’m so sorry i’m not there. i feel useless.”
nicole gives your hand another reassuring squeeze. “she’s in good hands, oscar. i’ll be with her the whole time, don’t you worry.”
you try to smile, though the pain is still gnawing at your insides. “i’ll be okay. just focus on your race.”
“not a chance,” he replies, his voice softening. “i can’t concentrate when i know you’re in pain. you’re more important than any race.”
as they prep you for surgery, nicole stays by your side, never letting go of your hand.
the last thing you hear before drifting off is her voice, quiet and full of love. “i’ll stay here the entire time, sweetheart. just relax.”
when you wake up after surgery, very groggy but no longer in pain, nicole is still there, sitting by your bedside. she smiles as you blink awake, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
“there you are,” she says softly. “everything went perfectly. you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
you blink away the tears that well up, overwhelmed by the care she’s shown you. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”
nicole shakes her head, her smile warm and full of love. “no need to thank me, love. we’re family. that’s what family’s for.” she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before tugging your duvet up, helping you get more comfortable in the hospital bed. “hattie is here somewhere, too. came as soon as she woke. think she wanted to buy you some snacks first.”
her words hit you in a way that feels almost foreign. the casual way in which they came out feels weird. to you, it isn’t casual. family is a concept you’ve always struggled with, never having had one that felt like this. but now, with oscar, with nicole and the rest of his family—who are buying you snacks and worrying—you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing.
as you drift back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the bed and something else—something warms from in your heart—you realize that for the first time in your life, you truly have a family—and it feels like home.
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dontbesoweirdkira · 2 months ago
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Just thinking about how both platonic! yan! Dick and Jason have a habit of laying on top of their batsis and crushing her.
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just look at how guilty they are....
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Requests: open
Dick is a menace. He's a full sized golden retriever who thinks he's still a puppy. When he jumps or lays on you to try to be all affectionate...he forgets that he weighs close to if not over two hundred pounds.
No matter how often you tell him he's way too big to do this, he doesn't care.
He just loves engulfing you in these full body hugs and cannot help himself. It's cute though, if you try not to think about your lungs collapsing on itself. He acts innocent by nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck,,,,but it's a ploy to then attack you with tickles which leads to play fighting.
I mean it's his brotherly duty to be as annoying as possible. Sometimes he just likes the fact hes stronger than you and can hold you down this easily. Rookie mistake to announce you need to use the bathroom or get ready for something when you're chilling on the couch. He will trap you until the last possible second.
As much as you complain and cry, don't mind it too much. It's nice to be apart of a real family like this and Dick is trying to show his love by playing.
Jason on the other hand is just kind of clueless about the fact he's crushing you. You're sitting on the couch and Jason comes home after a long night and sees a perfect napping spot..
You don't really want to tell him that he's wayyy too big to just plop down on you like that because it's nice that he's feeling safe enough to just do these things now.
He also is like a big dog. He does that big huff and occasional twitching in his sleep. lol
Sometimes you'll also fall asleep right with him because he's basically a human weighted blanket. You'll eventually wake to him looking up at you. It's subtle but there's a soft smile there. He's happy you feel safe too.
I like to think he desperately wants to be held sometimes but he doesn't know that he needs it or even how to ask so he just does it. You naturally wrap your arms around and rest them on him anyways. He's like a little kid when he does this. It heals something inside of him. His cold un-dead body, finally feeling an ounce of fuzzy warmth.
Do you think sometimes Jason will pull a snack or something out of his pocket. Like he lays on you but then pulls out a jolly rancher as an offering. lol. One moment he's sleeping and the next you can feel him munching on something crunchy.
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