#laughs nervously in adhd

[vivaciouscynner]

<laughs nervously> Look I don't want to claim something I'm not, but is it possible I'm undiagnosed?

POV: mister Devon Price, PhD, telling me that I am right about everything

Source: Unmasking Autism, discovering the new faces of neurodiversity

[lis-likes-fics]

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

~

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

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[eustasskidagenda]

omg hi hi! i adore your writing so much :3! if its alright with you, could i get headcanons for how crocodile, law, kid, and ace would be with an autistic s/o who loves to infodump, but is nervous to do so. theres always this odd bit of shame that accompanies infodumping for me because i get so excited i cant properly articulate myself *lays down* its just a mess of stimming, stuttering, and laughing at my own jokes. i feel embarrassed after, even if its totally an illogical response. im unsure if you write for autistic y/n so feel free to ignore this if you dont. thank you so much <33

☆Crocodile, Law, Kid & Ace with an autistic s/o who loves to info dump 

Hello, dear anon! I'm not used to write autistic y/n, because I don't know enough about this and I wouldn't like to be harmful. However, the situation you're describing is something close to ADHD, which I know well. So I've made some additional researches to be sure and come up with something, I hope you will like it. Thank you for your request, it was a sweet one ♡

CW : g/n reader, slight curses for Kid, fluff 

WC : Around 1,500 words

Crocodile 

Crocodile doesn't talk much, he's always serious and quiet. It's just that he's often thinking about his business and plans. But he's a good observer and would immediately notice if you want to say something but are too nervous to do it. He knows you perfectly, so he would recognize the way you're fidgeting.

He's a man with good manners, so his first reflex would be to lock the door and make sure no one can enter and destabilize you. When it's done, he will point his chair towards you.

"Sit. I'm listening, y/n." 

Actually, he likes hearing you speak during hours. He knows it's a way to express your love and feelings. He's flattered that you want to share your world with him. Go ahead and speak, he will listen. Even if he's just nodding or commenting short sentences in response, he has a good memory and will remember everything you said to him. 

If you're talking too fast and start to get really flustered, he will let you know that you're speaking too fast, like 'y/n, what did you just say?' 

Your hyper-focus and info-dumping are appreciated by Crocodile because he enjoys learning new things and you're a source of knowledge. Maybe he's impassive and struggles to express his feelings, but sometimes you will hear him talk about what he learned with you, so clearly he listened to every single word. 

"Don't be ashamed, it was interesting. Can we talk more about this specific point?" 

If you say something that he is really curious about, he has no shame asking for more. It's a way for him to express his genuine care for you. For him, it's a way to prove to you that even though he's always quiet, he cares.

Law

Law is similar to Crocodile in his lack of emotional expression and limited speech. He is always busy, struggling with his parasitic thoughts and taking care of his patients. Finding some private time with you is a challenge for him. 

If you run into Law with excitement about your passion or new hyper-focus, he may feel embarrassed because it's not the perfect time for him. Autism is something he knows about, and he is an intelligent and educated man. And, he wants to make you feel safe and comfortable. 

"I'll be yours in a moment, y/n-ya."

He has a complete understanding of you and is an excellent observer. The way you're already blushing, fidgeting, and swallowing nervously. He can even hear your heart racing. So first thing first, he will tell you to take a deep breath. After all, he’s a doctor. 

"What do you wanna talk about?" 

As Crocodile, he's a great listener. When you're full of passion and excitement, he thinks you're cute. He likes the sound of your voice. He loves when you want to find him and talk about your passion, because you're offering him a break from his work. If you weren't there, he would be stuck either in work or in his own head. When he's with you, he can forget about his dream of avenging. You're his safe place, truly. 

He doesn't speak a lot. But he is listening.M and asks questions from time to time.

"Yn-ya, there's been no urge. Take your time." And if you're stuttering a lot, he would just say nothing because it's pointless to make a remark, as long as he can understand what you're saying, he will never say something about your elocution. 

"That's interesting, where did you learn that much?" 

Law is a curious and intelligent man, so he likes to learn more about almost everything. If it can help him with his plans or maybe his patients, it might even be beneficial for him.

During your bedtime together, he would ask you to talk about your passions. The way you talk and laugh is like his own lullaby. When you speak, he can find inner peace because it shuts down all the voices in his head. He might fall asleep sometimes when he feels tired. It's just that you're providing him with some relief. When he wakes up, he would be deeply sorry. "So, yesterday, you stopped at this precise point… what were you trying to say after?"

Kid 

Kid is so goddamn loud. And really passionate. He's focused on his goal of becoming the next PK and has loved mechanics and robotics since childhood. He would be aggressively sweet, like frowning when he notices how stressed and nervous you act towards him. "Hey, Y/N, why are you so fucking nervous? Just speak" 

He thinks you're cute with your cheeks all red. On the flip side, he's a bit confused. Why are you nervous? Is it his fault? He knows he's loud, hard to love and rough, but he cares about people he likes. Have you seen how he acts with Killer and his crew? He loves his people. 

And, as a punk, Kid is marginalized. He knows a lot about being different, and if you feel ashamed about it, he can understand. "Come on y/n, let's find a private place" 

Grab your wrist in an aggressive yet sweet way and lead you to his workshop or bedroom. He sits you on the bed with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Now we're alone." 

So, you start talking nervously. It doesn't matter if the topic is interesting to him or not, he will listen. Because as I said, Kid is a passionate. Everything can be made interesting by passionate people. So, yeah, talk about birds, cakes, plushies, or anything stuck in your head. He will like it. And he enjoys the sound of your voice. He’s even flattered to be your special someone, the one you’re looking for when you need to talk. It fuels his ego and pride.

He will deal with your stuttering as he deals with Killer's laugh. He'll shut up and smash all the people making fun of you if there's something you hate about yourself. You're his s/o, no one can laugh at you and continue to live without facing his rage.

"Goddamn, slow down" yes, not the best with kindness, but at least he's paying attention. 

He wouldn't help but think you're really cute, with your eyes shining as you finally manage to relax and express how passionate you are. He understands your excitement because when he talks about robots, music, punk or weapons, he's exactly the same. 

Kid is not the most culturally advanced, it depends on the topic. He enjoys learning new things thanks to you or Killer, it's important for him to be credible, and he hates looking inferior in front of others. 

"See, there was no reason to be that nervous" When you finished speaking.

Just poke your cheek, grin and leave a mark of lipstick on your front-head before returning to his activities and yelling proudly to everyone he knows everything about the subject you just info-dump about.

Ace

The sweetest. Ace's personality is both compassionate and protective. He grew up with Luffy, so passionate and talkative people are something he knows a lot about. As he's proud of his brother, he's proud of you and can listen to everything you say for hours. 

"Y/N, is there something wrong?" 

Yeah, he would immediately notice that you're starting to get nervous. His first reflex is to find a more private place, if that's not already the case. He wants to do everything to make you feel safe and loved. If it's winter or just cold, he would even use his DF to warm the room. As soon as you're all comfortable, he'll run his fingers through your hair. "You know I will always listen." 

Ace doesn't speak a lot about what's on his mind. He's way too stubborn and always struggles with guilt due to the blood running through his veins. So he enjoys having someone like you. Your voice is soothing him, and he loves how passionate and honest you are always. 

For him, it's even amazing and unreal to have someone talk to him. You're treating him like a normal human and not a failure, because he feels like it often: unloved, unwanted and unworthy.

"Sweetie, you don't have to rush, we have the time, I'll always listen" if you start to speak too fast.

Would entwine his fingers with yours when you're stuttering and laugh heartily at your jokes. You remind him of his dear little brother. He feels lucky to have you by his side. 

"I could listen for hours." And he's totally honest.

If someone makes fun of you, he's truly mad. You are as significant to him as his brother or Whitebeard. And if someone makes fun of his loved-one, Ace is merciless and really impulsive.

"Please, say more about this specific point!", "Oh, really, that's so funny?" He wants to make you talk even more. Until you're finally relaxed and able to speak without stuttering, blushing, or anything else. He doesn't mind it, even if it lasts for hours. Once you're done, he has his usual sweet smile on his face. "That was so interesting, why are you so embarrassed?" 

So you explain to him that you feel embarrassed about your info dump because you're afraid to annoy people or talk too fast etc." It's alright, you won't bother me." 

You're his sunshine. He feels loved with you. He feels more than just the son of someone; he's just Ace, and that's the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

Such a sweet boy. ♡

[shallowseeker]

DEAN: *is all watery-eyed and weird when cas dies the first time*

CAS: *returns and is very, very Cranky (TM) and yelling at everyone*

Instead of being happy, relieved, or appreciative of one another's fighting spirit outright, they fall into a pattern of fighting and banter. They're full of fear, fatalism, and their own discordant Hail-Mary-style ideas.

And they disagree with each other. Their fear, in general, manifests in being short with one another and hilariously calling each other's plans stupid.

They're very immature and ill-equipped to handle caring about each other, basically. It's kinda cute.

They could say "thank you," or "I'm glad you're okay." Instead? Cas flies out of the gate, bossily laying into them about needing to be more careful. Later, he arrives at the hospital and calls the plan of fighting Lucifer stupid.

When Dean responds that Cas's plan is even stupider, Cas tells Dean that he wasn't worth rebelling for at all because he's a failure and should shut the Hell up.

Glorious.

There's so much Weird tension getting in the way of what should be a renewed brother-in-arms-friendship. It should be simple, a hearty hug between friends, some thuds on the back—you know, a simple "we made it, brother!" style of camaraderie.

Instead, they're weird about it.

///

And while Dean is usuallyweird (he's a weird, word-vomitey guy at heart), he's being epically weird in 5x03.

I'd say he's being even weirder than Cas is at times, and not just about his nervousness surrounding personal space.

It's everything.

It's even played for laughs a little bit. Cas says a lot of weird shit to the cop, and then somehow gains the cop's trust anyway.

Right after this, the cop calls Dean out, but not Cas.

"Uh, no, Kolchak."

In the end, Cas winds up having the advantage in this bizarre exchange. In a surprise twist, the officer has responded better to Cas's frank honesty than to Dean's sarcasm and indirectness.

///

But anyway, it's no wonder Dean's being odd. Man's Hella stressed.

Per the conversation with Sam at the end of 5x01, Dean is barely hanging in there. "He's trying." But he's also feeling the weight of his own fatalism. "I'll fight, but we haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell of winning."

And I personally think he's still anxious post-Cas's first death.

That's a frightening thing to contend with, that one of your strongest, "seemingly invincible" Superman allies can die. It rocks the tenuous stability beneath your feet, so to speak.

Here's the strangest thing: Cas asks Dean to go on a mission with him. But even after Cas straight-up tells Dean no angel would dare harm him, Dean assumes that they're both going to die anyway.

...

I think this speaks to Dean's issues focusing. His anxiety must be through the roof, because he's usually so good at hanging on to details like that.

There's also his guilt surrounding Cas facing Raphael alone the first time. And it's coming out this way.

This time, he's automatically cast himself in the role of being there alongside Cas, dying alongside him.

It's not until later that his denial falls away and the truth catches up to him, that Cas means to die alone:

Cas repeats himself, that the archangel wouldn't dare harm Dean:

This is not a revelation.

Cas told him as such right off the bat. But like in the scene with Chuck, Dean's brain prefers to dive straight into denial.

It's interesting for a character like Dean. He's VERY used to losing people, but with Cas, there's a creeping denial and disappointment clouding the whole thing.

There's probably already a crush there... it's coming out in watery eyes and hilarious ADHD-word vomit (Thelma-Louise, fussing about personal space and then getting into his personal space, Bert-n-Ernie-are-gay, last night on earth) because Dean doesn't know what to do with it.

He doesn't know how to handle the confusing mix of feelings. He had a lot of them when Cas died the first time. Now, where can that energy even go?

The face journey he goes on as he realizes Cas is expecting to die... again.

It's a little sad, tbh.

///

And then later, when they face off against Raphael, facing him together as Raphael enters "their" kitchen, Dean's fears all come out as jokes and banter again.

It's his preferred defense mechanism against strong emotions. He's worried, but he can't show it.

///

Another thing.

I think it's neat that they're squatting in this cute, dilapidated house.

Raphael appears in a kitchen, recreating the circumstances of Cas's first death in Chuck's kitchen.

Some other cute details about the house they're chosen. Dean has his usual cooler, but here he's put it near the hearth of the home, one of his motifs. He acts as bait, drawing Raphael nearer while Cas moves to attack him.

But the specter of the hearth is still meaningful.

And while Dean distracts Raphael, they lure him deeper into the home, a space they're controlling together.

And still, they banter. Cause they're immature and adorable.

DEAN: "Don't look at me it was his idea."

Aside// The lantern and the beer bottles.

Here, we get another glimpse of their symbols. For Cas, it's this dark lantern on the table; it's been on the table "with him"on his side" since the very beginning of squatting in this house.

It symbolizes both Cas himself and this concept of Dean waiting for him. "Where have you been?"

The fact that this lantern is OUT is a callback to Cas's death, and a nod to his current fatalism.

///

Actually, the house they're squatting in IS pretty cute. The table they sit at together is cute. Here we have the two of them, mutually aching over their absent fathers... and reeling over the painful, complicated brokenness and betrayals with their respective brothers (Raphael, Sam).

The inside of this house is "dead and dusty," but there's new growth just peeking into the window. Greenness. Renewal.

This living room, where they're spending time together, also contains important Dean-Cas symbols: empty chairs, lanterns, and an unlit hearth.

While the two of them are trying desperately to fix their respective families, they're automatically carving out their own living space together, instinctually, almost without knowing or trying.

It's also funny that we see some of the strife that will color their relationship. It looks like Dean wound up doing a lot of waiting around, and he's irritated about it.

Note the prominently lit empty Cas-chair. While Cas runs off to do his suicidal Heaven errands, Dean waits up for him in a room with a hearth and a conspicuously placed lantern.

Cas appears in front of the stairs. Later, these stairs will be prominently lit by the only lit lantern in the entire house.

///

Here we go. Dean and Cas return to face off against Raphael in the house they've come to bond in—in a home they control. Now, the stairs are highlighted by a homey, welcoming light.

It's the only lantern on.

It leads upstairs to the bedroom, or it's a nod to "Heaven" if you prefer that reading.

But it seems to me that this light is conspicuous like, despite the storm and the power outage, these two are carrying a secret torch for each other, a nascent longing to cobble a life together.

Raphael's pyrotechnics are exploding all the lights except this one, after all. Perhaps the lighted stairs represent them as a Heaven-Earth unit, Heaven + home, the one who guards the door + and the one who lights the hearth:

///

And goodness, some of these images are lovely.

Raphael breaks the window, letting the storm into the little nook they'd carved for themselves.

The lantern and the beer bottle.

That's their table!

It's funny. It's almost like they instinctively gravitate to trying to fix/rebuild a home when they're together. They naturally want to fall into this weird... rhythm of life.

It's maybe a bit spooky for them, it maybe unnerves them, and they don't know what to do with that. They've both got so much baggage with their respective families that they mostly try to ignore it, and they get pissy and short with each other as a result of ignoring it and circling this...

...confusing thing.

[wassupmygays]

do u have any hc of the significance of pony and soda in the musical having jewelry/necklaces they play w a lot but darry not having any and i noticed when i saw brent is v still when he speaks but soda and pony fidget a lot

i am always fascinated and in awe of the ways actors use physicality to portray so much about the character, and this show is no different. you can definitely look at this both from canon facts and hcs of the characters.

darry, for example, we know through ponyboy's eyes as this rock of a man that doesnt give in to anything. ponyboy is seeing this through his young, upset eyes and just thinks darry is so stuck and strict bc he doesn't like ponyboy. but i also think that is just . darry coping. and trying not to break. brent has said in multiple interviews that he plays darry very still on purpose. partly because, thematically, he is the rock of the family. he is the pillar holding them up. he has to be still and strong. i feel like if he thinks if he lets himself fidget nervously too much, he'll break, and he just cant have that. the only fidgety character choice i know brent does is biting his nails during stressful scenes, which in my heart is a trait darry and pony share (pony does it in the book a bunch)

sodapop, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. i think if he settles down for a moment too long, that is when he breaks. jason understands soda as a character SO WELL every time he talks about how he plays him im just like yea. youre sodapop. anyways he regularly talks about how when soda allows feels emotions, he experiences them in Big Ways. he cries for days, he feels everything so completely. but he cant let himself do that all the time, so he bounces around. he deflects with a laugh. he busies himself with making everyone else feel better so he doesn't have to focus on his own emotions until he can get the time to let himself let it all go. headcanon wise i think he especially fidgets with his dad's dog tags whenever hes gotta try and hold it all together. he's also an adhd king, so even if he isnt trying to distract himself, hes not staying still.

and finally, ponyboy. i think he is a nervous fidgeter. hes also a 14 year old kid, with all of this pent up emotion about his family and his world and wanting more somehow. he has so much inside of him that he just doesn't understand. i don't think he's as hyperactive about it as sodapop, but its still there. hes chewing his nails, hes tapping his fingers, hes playing with his necklace, or hes running a hand through his hair. to me it feels like hes a mix of his brothers; he can't stay still at all, like soda, but his movements are smaller, like darry. him and darry share a lot of the same motions. and also i think writing, movies, and daydreaming is where he gets out a lot of his energy and feelings.

anyways. that was really long. i love you if you read all of that. as you can see i have So Many thoughts about these characters, so thank you thank you thank you for this ask and im sorry it took some time to answer dkfjdkjfkjf. i will always take more asks to talk about these characters and this story <3

[poppitron360]

This is probably one of the first PJO fics I ever wrote- I started this back in May when think I was still reading Mark of Athena, before I even shipped Valgrace. Not sure why I didn’t post this back then but I will now.

— — — — — — — — —

Leo wasn’t sure how many hours he’d spent in the engine room. The rhythmic thumps of the machinery and thick, hot air seemed to lull him into a trance. He remembered stories Percy had told him about a place called the Lotus Casino, where time slipped away and you never wanted to leave. Leo felt like that whenever he was working on something. Nothing else existed beyond this room.

Banging on the door snapped Leo out of his daze.

“Leo?” A muffled voice called.

The door opened, and Leo was hit with a rush of cold air. Frank came in, a nervous expression on his face. He was holding a plate with a cheese sandwich and some crisps on it, his hand still on the doorknob. His face was knotted with concern, and his brow was sweating. Not many people went into the engine room- Leo didn’t mind the heat, but it made his friends uncomfortable.

“Umm… you weren’t at dinner,” Frank said, nervously.

Leo cursed in Spanish and rubbed his forehead, “Must’ve lost track of time. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Frank said, quickly, “It’s just no-one’s seen you all day. We were getting kinda worried. I, um… I brought you some food and your ADHD medication from your nightstand. I didn’t know if you’d taken them yet today.”

“Thanks,” Leo took the bottle of meds and the water, genuinely touched. He popped a pill and chugged the water. Immediately, he felt better. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he was.

“Sorry,” Leo repeated, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “It’s just the engine needs work, there’s an issue with the primary coupling- nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

Frank put the plate of food down on the floor next to him and sat down.

“Show me. Maybe I can help?”

Leo smiled, and then began pointing at various bits of machinery, explaining as best he could how all of it worked. Frank nodded and listened.

“The problem is with the pistons at the back,” Leo explained, “It’s hard to reach, so it’s tedious work.”

“Maybe I could turn into something small and take a closer look?” Frank offered.

They worked on the machine for the next half an hour, Leo instructing Frank, who had turned into a desert mouse as it was smaller, and better adapted to the heat. Working together, the problem was solved in no time. When they were done, they sat with their backs to the wall, sharing the bottle of water, Leo wolfing down his sandwich and crisps.

“You need to learn to take breaks,” Frank advised, “You can’t just stay in here all day every day.”

“The thing is,” Leo said, once he’d swallowed his bite of sandwich, “I feel like I’m no good to anyone if I’m not constantly being useful.”

It had taken a while to get to the point where Leo felt like he could tell Frank these things, their friendship had gotten off to a rocky start, but Frank was a good listener- he seemed to know when to keep quiet and when to speak up.

“That’s why you make jokes,” Frank observed.

Leo nodded, took a swig from the water bottle and handed it to Frank, “People keep you around if you can make ‘em laugh.”

Frank scoffed, “I keep you around in spite of that.”

They laughed.

“But seriously, dude, you don’t need to constantly fight to prove your worth. You’re family- you should be guaranteed a place here whether you’re always useful or not.”

Nothing in Leo’s life had ever been a guarantee. His mom had died when he was eight. His own blood relatives had cast him out, people who were meant to love and accept him at all costs. He’d spent most of his childhood running away from foster homes- they were all temporary places for him. Leo had earned his place with the rest of his comrades through his hard work. If he wasn’t useful to them would they reject him just like everyone else? He wasn’t important. He was the seventh wheel- a useless part of the machine. A spare. An extra.

He told this to Frank.

Frank listened, knitting his eyebrows in thought. After Leo was done, he thought for a moment, and just said, “Cars have five wheels.”

Leo stared at him.

“Yeah, you got the two front wheels, the two back wheels, and the steering wheel, which is ultimately the most important one.” He drew a box with his arms in the air in front of him, and mimed where the wheels would go. “You’re the steering wheel, Leo. You drive us along. Yeah, you’re alone, but you’re function is unique, and… this metaphor is kinda unravelling, isn’t it? Sorry, this probably isn’t helping.”

Leo laughed, “Look at you being all technical. Don’t come for my job.”

He wagged a finger at Frank in mock-strictness. Frank chuckled. Then he stood up, offering his hand to Leo.

“Let’s get out of here,” He said, “get some sleep, man.”

— — — — — — — — —

Gods, my writing has changed. But I like this fic.

VALZHANG ARMY ARISE!!!

@lokiwiiiiiii @lavenderfairiez @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @frayna-of-the-hollow @notwillingtobefound @via-rant

@euryvices-deactivated20241019 @deciduowl @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now

[dafodils-on-the-moon]

Different version of the Court Jester Merlin AU, predates the Captive Flame AU. Might revisit one day.

In this one he didn't grow up in the castle with the others, rather, Hunith found Merlin has an easier time not using magic very when he’s physically and mentally occupied, so she tries to always have him busy with one hobby, job, game or another.

When she runs out of things to occupyher restless Waroock in a small town she sends him to Canelot to learn healing from his Uncle and perform and pick up jobs in the city to keep him busy.

When Lady Helen turns out to be a vengeful sorceress and sings a curse over the banquet, he rather than immediately thinking to use magic, prances across the table, loudly singing over her curse to disrupt it, SWINGS from the chandelier “accidentally” brakes it and “accidentally” tumbles into and floor tackles Arthur. Uther laughs so hard be cries and immediately makes him court jester.

This Merlin has many many MANY odd skills and tricks, and is less dependant on but also less in touch with his magic. The Dragon is often flabbergasted by Merlin’s tendency to forget magic is an option, and his reluctance and nervousness around using it, since he was raised to go do something till it goes away or pour it into items so no one sees. He’s skilled in enchantments for this reason, filling artworks and everyday items with little magics all around him. He wittles (unknowingly taking after his father) carves and sews, and all his creations are anywhere from a *little* bit aware to full-on alive and moving whenever people aren't watching. He struggles with seeing his magic as part of him rather than something to be kept busy and poured elsewhere so it doesn't act out.

He's also a bit of an obnoxious, nosy, impulsive, impertinent little shit. Classic Merlin but make it more adhd coded.

[thestoryofella]

hii i love ur writing for steve and was wondering if u could write something about him changing bedsheets for an autistic reader ? maybe they're trying to cuddle and watch a movie or something but the reader can't focus/stop squirming ? certain textures/fabrics are very much sensory hell for me and i've had this problem a couple times and didn't want to be rude so i barely got any sleep lol

no pressure to write it ofc !! ty for reading :]

thank you for requesting; you’re my first request ever and I couldn’t wait to write this! I’m not on the spectrum but I do have adhd and am very familiar with sensory issues, so I tried to focus on those since I know them well. I hope that’s okay lovely!

warnings: fluff

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1393 words

You and Steve had been dating for three months and had the quintessential, imperative, and possibly relationship-changing date planned tonight: the sleepover. To put it plainly, you were terrified. You liked Steve, a lot. He was kind, thoughtful, and so handsome it made you wonder how you were dating him in the first place.

When you got to his house, you had packed the essentials: pajamas, a blanket, personal care items, and popcorn for your movie, of course. Despite being well-prepared, you couldn’t shake the nervousness from the first sleepover with a new significant other, or the butterflies in your stomach that you could only blame on your infatuation with your honey-eyed boyfriend.

Steve’s parents were out of town for the weekend, which thankfully allowed you to avoid the whole meet-the-parents situation, along with sharing the house. You packed your trunk and drove over to Steve’s house with some anxiety bubbling in your throat. When you pulled into his driveway, you prayed things went smoothly.

When you reached his front door, you only had to knock your fist on the door once before Steve opened it quickly. It appeared that he had been waiting for you, and he opened the door with a smile gracing his lips. He stood with one hand on his hip, and the other posed in a wave when he saw your face.

“Hi, honey,” he spoke, one hand reaching out to grab your backpack, and the other to grab yours. Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness of his actions, not used to having someone so readily help you with heavy bags, or grab onto your hand so quickly.

“Hi, Stevie, how are you?” You asked genuinely, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. He smiled in return, leading you inside by your hand.

“I’m doing good; I’m just excited to spend some time with you,” He answered, tugging your hand after placing a gentle, delicate kiss on the back of it, and leading you to his bedroom. He hadn’t dropped your fingers since you walked in the door, his thumb now gently rubbing over your knuckles.

Steve quickly led you into his cozy bedroom. You had both agreed that watching a movie there would be more comfortable so you could fall asleep directly afterward. Upon entering, it was clear you didn’t need to bring any blankets, as Steve’s bed was piled with everything you could need for sleep.

He was already dressed in comfortable clothes wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a white wife beater that accentuated his strong biceps and revealed a peek of his brown, sparse chest hair and skin dotted with moles. He added your blanket to the mountain-high pile on the bed and plopped your backpack down on his floor. “Do you wanna go get changed?” He asked after taking in the sight of your day clothes, which probably weren’t very comfortable to watch a movie in.

You huffed, a bit disappointed by your lack of planning, wanting to immediately crawl into his arms and get comfortable. “I guess I should; give me a few minutes,” you said, a displeased sigh added to your words. Steve laughed in response to your obvious disdain and after digging through your backpack, threw your pajamas into your hands while putting the bag of popcorn you bought on the bed.

Walking into the bathroom, you got changed into your pajamas hurriedly, excited to watch a movie and cuddle with Steve. You had brought the most comfortable clothes you owned–though maybe not the cutest–a T-shirt that went down to your middle thigh and shorts that wouldn’t shift during the night. You hated when you woke up with your shorts in disarray, not arranged on your torso or hips correctly anymore.

After changing, you ran into Steve’s room, plopped down next to him, and got situated for the movie. You both sat next to each other on his bed, in relaxed positions. His arm was slung around your shoulder, lightly rubbing your scalp, and your head plopped onto his shoulder, breathing in his scent of vanilla, citrus, and woodsy musk. One of your legs was tucked under his, allowing his warmth to keep your frequently cold toes–wearing socks in bed was a cardinal sin–comfortably warm.

You guys decided to turn on The Princess Bride after deciding a horror or thriller movie was too intense, and after approximately one hour, you both had carefully shifted down the bed into a sleeping position. One of Steve’s hands was now thrown over your waist, the other under your midsection, and one of his legs was tucked in between yours as you tucked yourself into his chest, keeping you both warm.

Sleep had evidently taken over Steve; his breath hit your shoulder in warm, slow, even cycles. You could even feel his chest moving up and down behind you, and his hand on your waist had gradually gone from a grip to an effortless touch. The issue? You could not get comfortable. His sheets were so soft and grippy that they resembled a microfiber towel, seemingly sticking to every hair follicle on your leg, more similar to Velcro than bedding.

You tried to carefully shift to get more comfortable, tired, frustrated, and eyes heavy with sleep. When you shifted your midsection though, you accidentally put more weight than intended down and pressed hard on Steve’s hand.

Stirring, he lifted his head and chest a bit in response to your motion. Voice heavy, muffled with sleep, and eyes squinted, he yawned briefly and then asked, “You okay, sweetheart?” Reaching up to rub his groggy eyes with one hand and gently grabbing your pointer finger with the other.

You hesitated. You were so tired, but you also didn’t want him to get upset with you. Although you were comfortable with Steve, and he had given you no reason to not trust him, three months isn’t a long time to be with someone. Ultimately, after taking a moment to think, you decided to tell him the truth. After all, Steve had always been so receptive to listening to your complaints in the past concerning clothes, loud sounds, and overstimulating social scenes.

“I’m okay, I just can’t seem to get entirely comfortable. The sheets keep sticking to my legs,” you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at your confession.

Steve almost immediately sat up at the confession, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “You should’ve told me sooner! I’ll be right back.” He hurriedly got out of his bed. In the distance, you heard a closet open and close, as well as his footsteps, heading back to the room. When he came back, he had his arms full of new sheets which he put down on top of the duvet.

Reaching his hand out, he grabbed onto your fingers and pulled you up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll be quick,” he spoke earnestly, proceeding to wrap your shoulders with a stray blanket to keep you warm while you stood.

Stripping the bed, he quickly pulled down the blankets and ripped off the old sheets. “I stole my parents' expensive sheets; they should be a lot more comfortable,” he spoke, offering you a toothy grin while you stood next to the bed, slightly embarrassed by his actions.

It took him only a few minutes to replace the sheets and throw the duvet cover back on. When he finished, he promptly hopped back into his previous spot, making himself comfortable. For a second, you were worried he was a little bit upset, but when he pulled the blanket up for you, an invitation to nestle back into his chest and get some rest, you felt a strong sense of relief.

You hopped back in bed next to him, returning to your previous positions. He tucked his arm back under your torso, nestled his head into the crook of your neck, wrapped his remaining arm around your front, and stuck one of his legs comfortably and loosely between yours.

“Try to get some rest now,” he spoke, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, loosely interlocking his hand under your torso with your own. You fell asleep to the feeling of his chest rising and falling, comfortably warm, and confident you had the best boyfriend in the world.

[turtlecleric]

Imagine.

You've been friends with Rise Leo for so long, that you can't seem to remember a time when he wasn't there teasing you with his signature smirk.

It was always jokes with him. Puns. One liners. Horrible cringe pick-up lines. You name it, he'd say it.

Word play was the game and boy did he know how to play. The dumber they were, the harder you laughed.

You always seemed to be laughing around him. It felt…nice. Just to be silly, let the weight of your world roll off your shoulders just for one moment.

You guessed why that's why it was so easy for you to fall into a habit of teasing him back. Y'all both just needed a reason to laugh.

But…you weren't laughing now.

There, he stood in front of you, with that signature smirk on his lips, telling you that he had feelings for you.

That he ALWAYS had feelings for you; he just never had the words for it until now.

You tilted your head at that, your brow narrowing in confusion as you began to rub a hand nervously over your arm.

So you did what you always did. What he would always do when it came to uncomfortable feelings.

You brushed it off with a laugh, missing the way Leo’s hands flexed at the sound.

You looked up at Leo with a shaky smirk, mirroring his own face, your eyebrow quirked teasingly.

“This is a joke right? I'm missing the punchline here. You've never cared about serious feelings like this before, so why start now?”

Leo’s eyes widened slightly, his stomach sinking as he watched you shake your head with that disbelieving and exasperated smile that he had come to love so much.

His hands slowly curled into white-knuckled fists as he watched you literally laugh away his confession.

You thought… you thought this was a joke. That he wouldn't take these real feelings seriously.

Leo’s gaze narrowed as his attention sharpened into focus on you.

Very well then.

Leo would show you just how serious he could be.

Imagine.

All of those jokes, all of that teasing, that ADHD intellect, that strategy, that charisma and charm directed solely on you.

Imagine.

Every comment, every look, interaction and touch becoming calculated, purpose driven and direct.

Focused. On. You.

Imagine.

Leo wanting to show you what serious intention looks like.

Because it was NEVER a joke when it concerned you.

~Ninja

[brights-place]

Synth x s/o with panick attacks comfort? Love your writing your actually amazing :3

Synth comforting his S/o

Pairings: Synth X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Panic attacks, Anxiety

A/N: Synth is such an cutie I love him so much! GOD HE'S SUCH AN CUTE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOY! I headcannon him with ADHD btw cause he shows some aspect and my friend also agreed on it

- You never cease to be surprised with synth with every day you spend together which is everyday as he discovers something new about you no matter how small and how you notice things about you too... even when how hard you try to hide your sadness and insecurities - Like I said Synth wasn’t the most emotionally aware troll so he finds it hard to understand your emotions sometimes

- It takes him awhile but he gets there just for you and just to see you smile again cause if your not smiling he wouldn’t know what to do. - Synth would stare at you confused as you were biting your lip while you both were at a rave - You weren't hyper or dancing with him so he noticed it quickly since you would always laugh with him dancing together but you weren't doing that - He just stared confused before taking your hand and pulling you away after nodding to trollex meaning Synth was gonna be helping you - He took you to an calmer area "(Name)- Uhm" He looked around nervously before making you sit down as you stared at the floor before tearing up "OH! I KNOW WHAT TO DO!" Synth said excitedly when seeing you tear up he swam off and came right back with items in his hands - He placed an seaweed blanket over you and handed you some of your favourite food - He just sits beside you waiting patiently but he is hearing the loudness of teh rave so he bops his head and smiles at you as you sniffle - You knew that The reason Synth likes raves so much is because he feels like it's the only time he can let loose and be free without worrying about anything else. He can let go of all his fears and anxieties and just have fun, knowing that everyone around him is doing the same. - Yet you couldn't help but relax that he was with you atleast - Synth paused and leaned in to you "sooo..." Synth started "Wanna talk about it?" Synth said taking your hand and lifting it up to cup his face as you smiled softly "No it would be a bother Honey" You muttered as Synth hummed leaning into your hand and smiling at you - You couldn't help but admire your lover. Synth always has a big smile on his face, even when things are difficult, and he can often be the light in the darkness... He is the sun to your moon - He reminds you that things will get better and that everyone has their own strengths and talents.

- He can see the beauty in everyone and always tries to highlight the best parts of each person.

- He never judges anyone for their past failures or mistakes, and he always seems to have the right thing to say to comfort them... and thats what he is doing right now trying his best to comfort you - You let out a sigh as synth cuddled you and join you in the seaweed blanket "I dont know... I just feel overwhelmed... you know?" Synth stared listening the best he could even with His ADHD you knew he was doing his best - His large doe eyes stared at you like an golden retriever smiling up at their owner - Synth stared listening as you ranted to him about how you were feeling this whole week. You felt drained and tired and you weren't feeling good yet you didn't know why you felt drained and tired - Synth is always there for you aka lover when you needed someone to talk to or to comfort them. He listens without judgment and provides support, understanding, and affection for you - he just nodded listening as you relaxed as he cuddled into you and kissed your lips for an moment which relaxed you as he pulled away "I understand that!" you smiled "You do?" Synth nodded "I mean I'm hyper 34/7 365 days every year but there's always one day or some longer that makes me feel tired! but I always get back up! and so will you!" Synth said happily as you sighed - He nuzzled into you and kissed your cheek as you cupped your cheek that he kissed before giggling and turning to Synth peppering his face with kisses as he smiled happily

- He makes sure to treat your feelings as seriously as he would want his to he treated so he makes sure that you are pampered with kisses

- He is always willing to go out of his way to make you happy as he makes sure you are relaxed and calm

- Synth is also very sweet and affectionate and always makes sure to tell you how much he loves and appreciates you for dating him and how he appreciates you opening up to him

- As the rave music in the background was soft and quiet Synth stood up and sticked out his hand towards you "You may feel down but you know what makes me happy? and I think the same would work for you" Synth said as you laughed "Dancing to the beats in the background" You replied raising an brow chuckling as Synth nodded quickly - You took his hand as he smiled bopping up and down as you giggled joining him dancing to the techno music and vibing together as you smiled at how he was hyper and always made sure to kiss your cheek when you were close beside each other while dancing - You knew synth isn't that great with emotions but he was doing his best and cared for you and you wouldn't change it at all. - Him just being there with you and smiling while making sure your hyped up with the music is enough for you too know that he loves you and wants you to fight of these feelings with something he knew that could make you feel better.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

@story-blossom I’m your @duckblr-secret-santa! Sorry you’re getting your gift a little late, sickness, celebrations, and adhd were conspiring against me lol

Anyway, the gift! In the episode Quack Pack!, I’ve always gotten the implication that other episodes have taken place in that universe that we don’t ever see, so I decided to write one! It takes place in a DT season 1 equivalent, so Della is nowhere to be found and Lena is under Magica’s control. But it’s still Quack Pack of course, so silly shenanigans and laugh tracks abound. (Also tumblr made the formatting a little wonky but I’ll try and fix it up when I post it to AO3)

Story under the cut!

[Fade In]

[Int: McDuck Manor Foyer. Lena is standing by the front door gathering her things after a sleepover, with Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby standing a few feet back. The boys are clumped together while Webby is stood slightly closer to Lena.]

Lena: Thanks for letting me stay the night, guys!

[She turns to pick up her backpack, which is open and showing a magic trick box set.]

Dewey: Oooh, what’s that?

[He points at the box.]

Lena: Oh, uh… I’ve just been… teaching myself some magic tricks. Yeah, magic tricks.

Webby: Ooh, can you show us some?

[Lena fidgets nervously but plays along with it.]

Lena: Uh, okay…. What do you want to see?

[She grabs the box out of her backpack.]

Dewey: Oh, Y’know what would be so cool? You should give us wings!

Huey: Dewey, I don’t think that’s what she means by magic tricks-

Louie: No, no, let’s let him be delusional.

[The audience chuckles.]

Lena: I can totally do that… if that’s what you want.

Dewey: Wing it on!

[He winks at the camera, and the audience laughs.]

[Lena pulls out a basic, cheap-looking black and white wand from the box.]

Lena: Here goes…

[She waves the wand around in a circle once, then twice. Unbeknownst to the rest of the cast, her amulet necklace starts glowing. The wand circles a third time, and she thrusts it forward towards Dewey and his brothers, producing a bright purple beam of magic.]

[Dewey sticks his arms out, as though he is accepting the magic.]

Dewey: Sha-Dewey!

[The audience laughs at the catchphrase as the beam strikes the triplets, creating a large poof of purple smoke obscuring the camera.]

[When the smoke clears, Huey, Dewey, and Louie have become fairies and are now barely visible due to their size. Lena and Webby both stare at the boys, shocked.]

Lena: Uhhhh… bye!

[She quickly turns and runs out the door. The audience laughs and the theme song begins.]

—

[The theme song ends and we go back to the foyer with Webby staring at Huey, Dewey, and Louie.]

Dewey: … I can’t believe that worked!

Louie: Nice going, Dingus, getting us stuck like this.

Webby:Are you guys alright?

Huey: Yeah, surprisingly so, considering we just grew two entirely new appendages out of our backs.

Dewey: I think you mean… Appendewges!

[The audience laughs.]

Huey and Louie: Shut up, Dewey.

[They both smack him on the back of the head, sending him spinning forward in the air and making the audience laugh harder.]

[Webby holds her hand out, inviting the boys to land on her palm, which they do.]

Webby: I can’t believe you guys are actually, like, fairies now! What’s it like?

Dewey: Oh my gosh, it’s so cool!

[As he says this, he flutters up into the air and does a floating backflip before landing again.]

I can fly, and my wings are so pretty!

[He wiggles his wings back and forth to show off the translucent blue patterns on them and the shimmering silvery fairy dust coming from them. The audience oohs at the sight.]

Huey: While I wouldn’t go as far as saying it’s cool, it is fascinating how our bodies automatically adjusted to the change in height and shift to our centers of balance due to the wings on our backs.

[He loses his balance as he says the last line.]

Okay, maybe we haven’t totally adjusted.

[The audience laughs.]

Louie: The wings put massive rips in my favorite hoodie, so I’m not a fan.

[The audience laughs. His wings twitch, causing some gold fairy dust to come off of them.]

Ooh, the gold is nice, though.

Webby: If you’re actually fairies now, I wonder if you guys have any other abilities. In a lot of folklores, fairies were mischievous spirits that had all sorts of abilities they could use to play tricks on people.

[Dewey’s eyes light up.]

Dewey: Say less!

[He makes a comically intense face of concentration before his tail suddenly turns into that of a tiger, which he swishes back and forth excitedly.]

[The audience oohs and then applauds, while Louie chuckles, then smirks.]

Louie: You should totally try turning it into a snake next.

[As though under a trance, Dewey’s expression drops and his tiger’s tail instantly morphs into the head of a snake. It turns around and hisses at him as he snaps out of the trance, causing him to jump up and try and run in a circle away from the snake. The audience laughs hard.]

[Huey rolls his eyes and mutters to himself.]

Huey: Get me away from these lunatics.

[The camera cuts to a more zoomed out shot from above where we can see Webby looking down at the action in her palm.]

Webby: Huey? Where’d you go?

[The camera cuts back to an empty shot of where Huey was on Webby’s palm.]

Huey: What? I’m right here.

Webby: I can’t see you at all though…

Huey: I know I’m short now, but I’m not that short!

[The audience laughs.]

[The camera cuts back to Louie and Dewey, who we can see is still being terrorized by his tail in the background.]

Louie: Wait, Huey- flutter your wings.

[The camera cuts back to the empty shot, where some shimmery bronze fairy dust appears seemingly from nowhere.]

Webby: Oh my gosh, Huey! You’re invisible!

Huey: I- I am? I can still see myself! How do I change back??

Webby: We should ask the rest of the family what to do. I’m sure they’ll know how to help!

[As Webby finishes speaking, Uncle Scrooge walks into the room.]

Scrooge: Aye, Webby darlin’, I heard you were wanting ma help?

[The audience cheers wildly when he speaks.]

Webby: Yeah, Uncle Scrooge! Huey, Dewey, and Louie got turned into fairies and I don’t know how to help them!

Scrooge: Bless me bagpipes, that is serious! We need to get going right away… to the library!

[The crowd laughs and cheers as the scene transitions to…]

[Int: Library interior. Scrooge is standing at the head of a table surrounded by bookshelves. Standing behind the chair closest to him on the right side of the table is Webby. Also standing around the table are Donald and Mrs. Beakley.]

Scrooge: Alright everybody, we’ve got a lot of work to do to help the boys, so let’s get moving! Go, go, go!

[A research montage begins with the characters pulling books off shelves, flipping through pages, and consulting library signs to a detective movie style remix of the series theme song. Donald drops a comically large stack of books on his head, making the audience laugh. The montage ends with a camera shot set up in the space between two books, and Mrs. Beakley shoves a book back into the space on the button of the music. As the screen goes dark, the scene snaps back to…]

[Int: McDuck Manor Foyer. Huey, Dewey, and Louie remain floating about where they were before. Louie is laid back in the air as though he’s relaxing on a lounge chair, Huey has successfully become visible again and is stood hovering near Louie, and Dewey has just now gotten his tail back to normal and plods over to his brothers and sits on the air, breathing heavily.]

Dewey: Never (inhale) do that (inhale) to me (inhale) again (inhale).

Louie: It was funny though.

[He smirks at the camera and the audience laughs and some swoon.]

[Huey sits down as well.]

Huey: How did Webby describe fairies again? We’re trickster spirits, right?

Louie: I can see why, with all these powers.

Dewey: Y’know I’ve missed playing pranks on people.

Huey: We have been pretty busy lately…

[Louie stands up and holds his hand out towards Huey and Dewey.]

Louie: Then whaddaya say we take advantage of all this fairy stuff while we have it?

[Huey and Dewey glance at each other, then smirk and grab Louie’s hand. The audience cheers.]

[The camera cuts to a more zoomed out shot of the foyer, where we can see Huey, Dewey, and Louie all flying off screen as the audience continues cheering. The scene shifts to…]

[Int: Garage. Launchpad is going about setting up instruments for the Crash Happies’ rehearsal.]

Launchpad: Oooookay! There’s the drum set.

[Huey, Dewey, and Louie fly up to a cracked open window visible on the far left of the shot. They giggle between themselves then slip into the room one by one.]

[Huey lands on the cymbal of the drumset and turns invisible. The camera cuts back to a shot of the full room with Launchpad as Huey begins to dance on the cymbal, making it rattle “inexplicably”.]

[Launchpad turns around in confusion.]

Launchpad: Bwuh?

[Dewey and Louie then fly up to Launchpad’s ear. Louie puts on a deep voice and begins incomprehensibly whispering in his ear while Dewey watches.]

Launchpad: Ah! Who are you?! Show yourself!

[He flails around in a panic.]

[The camera cuts to Dewey, who flies over from Louie to the cymbal with Huey. He turns invisible as well, and they begin to jump back and forth on it, almost like a seesaw. In the background, Launchpad continues to freak out.]

Launchpad: I haven’t even crashed into anything cursed yet today!

[The camera cuts back to a shot of the full room. Launchpad is laying in the fetal position on the ground with his expression comically terrified. The cymbal of the drum continues to rattle back and forth.]

Launchpad: Ahhh!!!

[The door to the garage opens, revealing the rest of the Crash Happies.]

Crash Happy Drummer: Launchpad?

[The audience laughs, cheers, and applauds as the ad break begins.]

[Fade Out]

—

[Fade In]

Disembodied Voice: Consumer Alert! Did you know that if you have been exposed to any of these Glomgold Industries products, including Glomgold Signature Plaid Paint, Glomgold Foods Haggis, and the Junior Glomchucks Glombook, you may be entitled to financial compensation?

[A long list of Glomgold branded products scrolls across the screen.]

Disembodied Voice: These Glomgold Industries products have been found to contain high levels of dangerous materials including toxic pesticides, asbestos, and plutonium. Call this number today to see if you qualify for compensation!

[A phone number flashes on screen, as well as a line of text reading “Announcement paid for by Calisota Anti-Glomgold Society” and a photo of Glomgold in a devil suit.]

[Fade Out]

—

[Fade In]

[Int: Library. Scrooge, Beakley, Webby, and Donald are around a table at the library, surrounded by tall piles of books, scouring through them for a cure for Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s fairy transformations.]

Scrooge: (Very loudly) AHA! I’VE GOT IT!

[He excitedly slams the book he’s reading down onto the table.]

Librarian: (Offscreen) Shhh!!!

Scrooge: (Whispered) Aha! I’ve got it!

[He slams the book down again quietly. The audience laughs.]

[Webby, Donald, and Beakley gather around the book to see what Scrooge found.]

Scrooge: The boys would have to agree to this, but we should be able to turn them back by having them relinquish their fairy dust.

Donald: Well, what are we waiting for?! Let’s get back to the mansion!

[He throws his hands up and accidentally knocks over one of the piles of books, causing several books to hit him on the head. The audience laughs.]

Librarian: (Offscreen) Shhhh!!!!

Scrooge: (To librarian) Sorry! (To family) Let’s go.

[The shot does a sliding transition to…]

[Int: McDuck Manor Foyer. Scrooge, Donald, Beakley, and Webby stand just inside the front door on the far left of the shot showing an empty foyer.]

Beakley: … Aaaaand they’ve disappeared.

Donald: (Panicking) How could this happen?!

Beakley: Well, fairies are famously mischievous spirits…

Webby: … And with Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s love of pranks…

Scrooge: … There’s every likelihood that they’re off somewhere causing chaos.

[Donald faints from stress and hits the floor with a thud, making the audience laugh.]

[Scrooge bends down to pick Donald up.]

Beakley: Well, if they’re not here, we’re going to need to lure them to us. What attracts a fairy?

Webby: Fairies usually are drawn to sugary foods and shiny objects. They also typically avoid urban, polluted areas, but since Huey, Dewey, and Louie aren’t normal fairies they might not have any issue with that.

[A beat of silence.]

Scrooge: Curse me kilts, how did you learn all that, Webby?

Webby: Uhh… cute girl stuff?

[The audience laughs and cheers at her catchphrase and Scrooge and Beakley shrug and accept her response.]

Donald: (Drowsily) Funso’s.

[The others all stare at him, confused]

Donald: Put all that stuff in Funso’s and I don’t think the boys would be able to resist.

[They all share a look of agreement and the camera cuts to…]

[Int: The marina. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are flying around messing with people on the boardwalk.]

[Dewey suddenly stops in the air.]

Dewey: Guys, wait… we should go to Funso’s.

[Huey and Louie also stop.]

Huey: Actually yeah, that sounds really good.

Louie: (Getting more and more and more giddy as he speaks) And with this size I could practically swim in Pep!. Let’s do it!

[They quickly fly the short distance from the boardwalk to Funso’s. They enter the building and are greeted by their family standing around a circle of Pep!, candy, and gold coins.]

Webby: I told you guys it would work!

Donald: Boys! We found a way to turn you back to normal!

[Huey, Dewey, and Louie exchange a hesitant look]

Dewey: What if… we don’t want to?

Huey: Yeah…, as weird as it’s been to be fairies, it’s also been a lot of fun.

Louie: What they said.

[A brief, tense silence occurs, the camera framing the scene to look like a standoff between Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and their family.]

Scrooge: Ay, boys, I know it may be a lot of fun to be fairies right now. And trust me, I’ve dealt with many magical shenanigans like this in my years, the fun never lasts. It’s always more worth it to keep the brief fun memories than to have them tainted by getting bored or suffering the consequences of your own magic.

[Huey, Dewey, and Louie exchange another look.]

Huey: Okay. What do we need to do?

Beakley: (Pulling out three vials from behind her back) Just shake some of your fairy dust into these vials. Once we close them up, the rest of the fairy dust should remove itself from your systems, turning you back to normal.

[The boys fly up to Beakley. Huey flutters forward, and Beakley holds out the first vial. He shakes some fairy dust into the vial’s mouth, then goes back to his brothers. Beakley holds out the next vial, and Dewey does the same thing. Louie flutters up to the last vial, but pauses.]

Louie: Wait! Can I do one last thing before we do this?

[The camera cuts to a shot of Louie swimming around in a cup of Pep!. The audience laughs loudly.]

Louie: Aaaaah… it’s better than I ever dreamed!

Donald: Come on, Louie.

Louie: Alright, alright.

[The camera cuts back to the shot from before. Louie flutters back to the vial and shakes some of his fairy dust inside as well.]

Louie: (To Huey and Dewey) Well, it’s been real.

Dewey: Indewbitably!

Huey and Louie: Shut up, Dewey.

[As Huey and Louie smack the back of Dewey’s head, Beakley corks the three vials, and a poof of purple smoke obscures the camera. When the smoke clears, Huey, Dewey, and Louie are sitting on the floor, drowsily leaning on each other, no longer fairies.]

Donald: Boys!

[He runs up and bear hugs them, picking them up off the floor.]

Louie: (Feeling his hoodie’s fabric wet with Pep! and touching the tears in its back) Eugh, my hoodie’s ruined!

[Dewey takes a step forward but stumbles, and grabs Huey’s shoulder to catch himself, startling Huey and nearly pulling them both down. The audience laughs.]

Dewey: Gosh, I’m tired.

Webby: You guys probably overexerted yourselves while you were fairies. You might’ve had the energy for all that flying and magic then, but your normal bodies don’t.

Beakley: Let’s get you three home and changed, and you can sleep.

[She hands the boys each their vials, now full to the top with their respective fairy dusts.]

Louie: I cannot get to bed fast enough!

Huey and Dewey: Ditto.

[The door to Funso’s closes behind the family as they exit. The audience cheers for the happy ending.]

[Fade Out]

—

[Int: Garage. Launchpad is now putting everything away after the Crash Happies have left rehearsal. The scene quickly shrinks to a small window so the credits can roll.]

Launchpad: (Seeing the scene shrink) Aaah! The ghosts are back! And they shrunk the room!

[Launchpad promptly drops back to fetal position on the floor.]

Launchpad: (Screaming) MR. MCDUCK!!! YOUR GARAGE IS HAUNTED!!!!

[A beat of silence.]

Scrooge: (Muffled, in the distance) What?

[Fade Out]

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 7: Into the Bear's den

Words: 6.3 k (cause apparently I don't know how to write short chapters)

Summary: You're offered a new job and Carmy opens up about his past.

a/n:So we're getting close to the final line and i've never finished anything ever (cause adhd) so i don't know what to do with myselffff.

You cracked your knuckles again and glanced down at your watch nervously, for what seems like the fifth time in ten minutes. The view from the window beside the table where you sat gave sight to rustling leaves and little butterflies floating in the midday wind. You looked back down at your phone and reread your friend’s text, ‘Be there in 15’. 

It surprised you to see her name across your screen a few days back, asking if you could finally talk around lunch on Wednesday, and it was an even bigger one that you had agreed. You had practically cut off everyone after what happened at your old job, you didn’t want to tarnish her reputation too and drag her down with you. So you stopped answering calls and texts hoping she’d get tired of not hearing from you and just give up. Now as you sat in the small restaurant waiting for her, you knew how ineffective that plan had been.

You heard the small ding of the entrance bell and rose your head up to find her walking in your direction. 5 '9 and too strong for her own good, Joyce lifted you from your seat in a bone crushing hug. Your arms dangled at your side for a few seconds, but then moved them up her back as best you could.

“Joy, I can’t breathe.” You said, the sound muffled through the fabric of her dress.

She laughed softly and muttered a ‘Sorry, sorry’ before holding you at arm's length and staring down at you with a smile. Her face then fell slightly and she lifted her hand from your shoulder only to smack it back down on the exposed skin.

“Ah! What the hell!”

“Why didn’t you ever answer me?!” She questioned, a hint of hurt concealed in her ever present calmness.

You bit your lip in guilt and sat back down with her taking the place across from you. You both sat in silence while a nice waitress handed out the menu and offered drinks. Once she was gone with your orders, Joyce stared at you expectantly.

“So?”

Your view was trained on the slightly trembling fingers picking at your nails. The words were all an endless jumble inside your head, there was so much you wanted to say but they all pushed at the same time and nothing seemed to come out. She placed a well manicured hand above yours and softly called your name.

“I went to your house and everything. Your mom said you wouldn’t even leave your room. I think she was mad or something cause she didn’t even let me in.”

You let out a humorless laugh and finally look up to comforting green eyes. “Yeah, uhm… she thought you knew.. that he was.. y’know.”

“God no! Barely even knew the guy before that.” She squeezed your hands in hers. “Trust me, hun. If I would have known, I would have stopped it from the beginning.”

“Yeah-no, I know.” You gulped down and waited until the waitress was done serving your drinks before speaking.

“I really am sorry,” You whispered “I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole goodbye text and then just disappear like that.” You took a sip of your drink and Joyce gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I just needed time to… process it all.”

“And did you?” She asked, concern looming over her eyebrows.

“Yeah… I feel like I have. I was mad at myself at first, I felt like such an idiot for not seeing it before, y’know? There were so many signs that I refused to notice cause I was so entranced with the idea that someone like him could lo-like me…” You focused your eyes on the other occupied tables to avoid her gaze. “I don’t believe it now, of course, but… I truly thought he was good for me.” 

You were both silent for a moment, the words floated around you like the butterflies you saw outside, finally free from the confinements of your chest. It felt nice, to be able to admit what you had kept down for so long, especially to someone who you knew wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Then I was angry at him.” You continued. “Because who does that shit, Joyce? I mean, you have to be really fucked in the head to make someone believe you’re wife’s been dead for two years, jesus.” She let out a small laugh along with you, the situation too crazy to seem remotely believable. 

“It wasn’t your fault…”Joyce’s voice grew serious after a short silence. ”You left as soon as you found out, despite what you felt for him, you left. I need you to understand that’s the best you could do.”

“I know..” You reassured her.

The waitress arrived with great timing, placing a bread basket in the center then two bowls with tomato soup as your entreé. You stirred it slowly with your spoon, head concentrated with the recollection of emotions that used to burden you but now didn’t feel as heavy.

“So…How do you feel now?” She asked, letting go of your hand to grab her own drink.

You sat on the question for a moment. If she would have asked you that a couple months ago, your reaction would be completely different, pissed off. You would’ve yelled every profanity that existed under the sun, cursed him out until your throat ran dry and your eyes stained your flushed cheeks salty. He was the reason you were unable to find another job in the area. When all the snobby rich ladies around Lincoln found out you were a ‘Homewrecker’, the news spread like wildfire and doors closed solely at the sight of your face. 

All the rejection had pushed you to your lowest point… though had it really?

You had found solace at The Beef. People you admired, who were hardworking and kind despite the blows of life. And you had also met Carmy. Sweet, adorably fucked up Carmy, the sultry ocean current guiding your adrift boat home.

A loving smile unrolled on your lips. “Happy.” You said, scrunching up your nose and a small relaxed laugh left your mouth.

Joyce’s expression mirrored your own, she reached again for both your hands and rubbed her thumb over the back of yours.

“I actually… met someone” You confessed, cheeks ablaze.

“Hun, that’s great!” She gushed, giving your hands another rub. “Show me, show me!”

You laughed at her excitement and pulled out your phone, swiping through your pictures. You found your favorite, one from last week at the end of your grandpa’s birthday. The photo was shaky but you could still make out Carmy's profile as he gave your temple a chaste kiss. You could also see your beaming smile, eyes scrunched up in happiness. You passed the phone to Joyce and dug into the lukewarm soup.

She stared at the screen with raised brows for a couple seconds, flicked her gaze to you then back to the screen.

“You’re dating him?” She asked in a mixture of surprise.

You swallowed slowly and nodded at her. “You know him?”

“Yeah.. I wrote a column about him sometime last year. Big deal in the culinary scene in NYC. Won a James Beard award, or something like that.” She handed your phone back and pulled out her own. 

You were taken back by the sudden information. Sure, from your time working with him you had noticed he was good, great even, but a JB? That shone a new light to the already present question, what was he doing at The Beef?

“I knew it! See?” Your friend turned the screen to you.

It was an article from December last year. He was standing with his back straight and hands locked behind his pristine white coat, hair combed like you'd never seen, almost glistening from the amount of product. He’s thin, the bulky arms you'd grown to love hidden behind long sleeves, eyes decorated with heavy bags that made your stomach churn. It was him, Carmy. Your Carmy, but different. Like if the picture had only captured his vessel but not the soul, he stood separate from the nine cooks behind him with an air of arrogance clawing at his stand. 

‘Carmen Berzatto: The Artist Behind the Best Restaurant in The World’ Read the article in bold menacing letters.

You handed Joyce her phone back, slightly puzzled but didn’t let it show on your face.

“We had dinner at the restaurant and everything. His shit’s like, stupid good. You really didn’t know?” She asked.

You shrugged while putting another spoonful in your mouth, reducing the importance of the situation, though the small ache bothering your chest might say otherwise. You decided to push it back until you're able to ask him subtly.

“He’s not the bragging type.” You answered nonchalantly. 

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy. How’d you meet him anyway?”

Over the course of lunch, you updated her on the past months, your time at The Beef, everything with Carmy and how you were now unemployed but had gotten something pretty good out of it.

“Honestly, I would’ve chosen dick over a job any day too.” She said and had you grinning from side to side.

“And it was in the middle of his kitchen too...” You mumbled before taking another drink and her eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Look at you, little freak!” Joyce joked and your chest bloomed with laughter.

It felt like a breath of fresh air to joke again with her, like nothing had changed in the last months and you were still as close as ever. Joyce was your oldest friend after all, and she proved to be the strongest when despite how the situation had unraveled she still stood by your side. 

“So what have you been up to now that you're a burden to society?” 

“Nothing really. I’ve been painting a lot to pass the time but my savings are almost running dry so I have to start looking soon.”

“Have you thought ‘bout getting something outside of cooking?” She asked curious.

You had. It was just an idea of course, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. Sure you loved cooking and the everpresent bustle of working in a restaurant, there was something about the rush that kept you on your toes, but a part of you wanted to slow down. If only you didn’t need money to survive, then you could take the time to pursue something else.

“I mean I have, but I don’t know what it would be.” You juggled the idea in your head. “Besides, it's the only thing in my resumé and I don’t think anyone would hire me in another field with zero experience.”

Your gaze fell back down to the white tablecloth, it had been cleared and only your half empty glasses remained. Joyce had been quiet for a while and you looked up to find a smile inching up her cheeks.

“What?” You asked cautiously.

“I know someone.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“You know someone that what?”

“Hire you! Keep up!”

You looked at her with a blank expression. “Joy, I love you, but I would make a very shitty writer.”

“Not with me, I suck at being a boss.” You rolled your eyes, but agreed. “I meant with Jeremy’s aunt. She’s got a gallery in River North where she teaches painting classes to kids. She’s pretty old so she’s been looking for someone to help her out.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call your future aunt-in-law old.” She waved her hand dismissively. “What if I’m not good enough or say something and fuck up the kids?”

You wanted to remind her about the last time she convinced you to take a job, but preferred to avoid the subject altogether. “I don’t want anyone to blame you for recommending me when I screw up.” You answered instead.

“Dude, please give yourself some credit. I’ve seen your work, it’s really good.” Your cheeks flared up at the compliment, “And I’m sure she’ll like you too, she’s a sweetheart. Plus, how hard could it be teaching kids how to paint?”

A velvety sensation stirred in your stomach as you contemplated the idea. There wasn’t really much to contemplate, it was a great opportunity and  one that not many people get without experience. So you swallowed down the nerves that mixed with your self doubt and nodded  happily towards her. She let out an excited squeal and reached out to hug as much of your shoulders as she could with the table in between you.

You left the restaurant with your arm locked around hers as she updated you on the past months of her life, your future job and all the planning she had been doing for the upcoming wedding. It was difficult for her enthusiasm not to rub off or even harder to ignore the glowing specks of light that appeared in her eyes when she spoke lovingly of her feancé. You wondered silently if your eyes glimmered with similar joy when you spoke of Carmy.

**********

Teaching children how to paint was, in fact, only slightly hard, but nothing you couldn’t manage after the first week. There were only six kids per class and only two one hour and a half classes from five to eight p.m. Most of the kids were older than nine so they were pretty calm, except for the day you decided to bake cookies for them and swore one had even burnt a hole through his sneakers from all the running he did. 

Mrs Marjorie, Jeremy’s aunt and not as old as Joyce had made her out to be, just leaned laughing by the railing upstairs while she enjoyed the show the children were putting on. Taylor Swift playing on the speakers seemed to calm them for some reason, and after a small impromptu dance party, you reminded yourself to pass by the bodega on your way home and pick up sugar-free choco chips for the next batch.

The gallery itself was one of the oldest in the area. It rested in the corner of the street, with high glass walls that allowed the natural lighting to illuminate the two floors inside. Most of the exposed brick was covered with framed paintings, with the right  and back walls harboring enough works to almost reach the tall ceiling. The bottom floor was separated into different areas, first the main lobby where the works were sold. Past that was the showroom, an ‘H’ shaped maze divided by white walls that displayed the series of paintings chosen for that month, and behind  that was an open space for the painting classes, near the back window wall. 

The second floor was half the size of the first, with a metal railing along the perimeter instead of walls, so you were able to keep an eye on the bottom half. It was the perfect mixture of a Victorian and maximalist library. Tall bookshelves stood against the walls, decorated by flourishing plants in unique pots. Old leather couches divided the library from a small employee kitchen, equipt with a microwave and fridge. 

Your favorite part, however, was the back. Long shelves that seemed to go on forever amidst a stretching white corridor, sheltering all kinds of sculptures and paintings carefully wrapped to avoid damage. Beside the emergency exit rested a studio, complete with paints, easels, unfitted frames and an industrial roll of canvas fabric. Everyone was allowed to use it as long as it didn’t interfere with your activities. The whole place smelled of paint thinner, old books and wood. Add the endless supply of chamomile tea, and you couldn’t be happier.

You were busy stirring the honey into your tea while also keeping an eye on the floor below, since almost everyone had gone out for lunch. With the steaming cup in hand, you carefully walked back down and began preparing your station for the first class of the afternoon. You carried out the easels from the back and unfolded them in a semi circle facing against the lighting, then entertained yourself rearranging the paint cart that the kids loved to misplace. You also brought out their works in progress and as you placed each one on the wooden base, you admired the different creative takes each child took with the reference image. 

Thirty minutes before the first class, you had everything set and the paint splattered apron already fastened at your waist, when you heard the light ‘ding’ of the bell over the entrance door. You stepped out from behind the exhibitions and in your line of vision, Carmy stood with his back to you, head slightly tilted while he analyzed one of the abstract paintings by the entrance. You smiled at the way his shoulders seemed to loose tension when he wasn’t at the restaurant, then with light footsteps moved to stand behind him, stood on your toes and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m good at understanding art.” He said with eyes still trained on the frame. his head now rested softly on yours.

“It’s abstract, everyone sees something different in it.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you see?” He asked and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to stand in front of him with his chin now resting on your head.

You hummed gently as your eyes swiped over the canvas of swirling oranges and soft greens. “ A sunset, maybe a flower bed. You?”

He stood silent for a few moments. “A… giant lemon.” He answered more like a question and an involuntary snort shook your chest at his answer. “See, I told you I was shit!”

“No, no you’re right! Now that you say it, I kinda see it” You agreed, turning to snake your arms under his and hugging his waist. “That is definitely a lemon.” You whispered up to him.

He let out a breathy laugh at your answer, then leaned down slightly and pressed his warm lips to your forehead.

“Brought you lunch.” He said between kisses, pulling out a sandwich, from the pocket of his jacket, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil. “It’s sweet n’ spicy with extra pickles.”

“Ooh, my favorite, thank you!” 

A shy but proud smile covered his lips, knowing he had your order completely memorized from the few times you’d take dinner home.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” You took his hand and took a single step further into the gallery.

“Wait, I can’t. I left Syd in charge and-uhm, I’ve got this.. this thing I have to get to… sorry.” He scratched at his nose by habit and rubbed his thumb along your soft skin as he felt your hand loosen its grip.

If you felt slightly disappointed, you’d rather not let it show. Instead covering it with a closed smile. It had been a while since you’d seen him. Between getting accustomed to a new routine and Carmy’s already hectic one, it was hard to find mutual free time that wasn’t just covered by a phone call after closing shop. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t at least a little crestfallen at not seeing him as much as you were used to, but you also understood that this was the way adult relationships worked, schedules didn’t always match.

You also still had your conversation with Joyce in the back of your head and no amount of begging Syd to tell you was enough to make her budge. The thought of having to ask him yourself made your stomach uneasy, but it was something you needed to do… 

Just maybe not at that moment, though.

“Oh, yeah, no prob.” you answered instead. “I have to finish setting up for the kids anyway.” You pointed with the sandwich to the already set up station. ‘But he doesn’t need to know that’ you thought.

“Shit, right. My bad.” He scrunched his eyes closed and gave a single nod and you could tell his thoughts were getting to him.

You stepped into his space and placed a lingering kiss, long enough to pull him from his head, while rubbing soothing circles into his hand.

“Thank you for lunch.” You whispered, then pecked his nose. 

He stared down at you for a few seconds, eyes the clearest blue you had ever seen.

“Are you hungry?” He asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him with furrowed brows but with a smile, head tilted in confusion as you raised the sandwich and slowly shook it.

He let out a soft breath that fanned your warm cheeks.

“No, I mean…Can I make you dinner? Tonight” He asked again, eyes glistening brightly under the filtering sunrays.

Your cheeks grew painful from the force of your smile and you nodded enthusiastically at him. His expression mirrored yours, hand holding tightly onto your own.

He kissed you one more time after promising to pick you up around nine, then left in a rush through the crystal doors in direction to wherever he was going. You stood there for a moment, a strange sense of worry bubbling up, but with a heavy breath you decided to credit it to the persistent questions in your mind. You walked back up to reheat your now cold cup of tea then left the sandwich in the fridge. It was almost time for the kids to arrive and since most liked to be there early, you would only be able to take a bite or two before having the little parrots telling you about their day.

Almost like clockwork, the bell dinged again the moment you placed the cup on the desk and little footsteps echoed their way to your direction. 

“Ms. F, you will not believe what Sasha said to me today?!”

**********

There was something you liked about buying groceries with someone that made it feel familiar, almost home-y. The simple action of walking hand in hand through the tightly packed corridors while throwing around ideas on what to make for dinner brought a calmness to your soul that you had not known before. To any outsider you were simply a couple meeting up after work, stocking up on the produce that you would then take to your shared home. And maybe for the half hour that you were in the store, you’d let yourself believe that too. Let the domesticity of it all embrace you as Carmy dragged you through the isles, absentmindedly mumbling to himself on the ways he could use every product he picked up.

You wondered what you would see if you could look inside his head. It would probably look like the office back at The Beef but infinitely.

“So you’re not gonna tell me what you’re makin’?” You asked for the third time on the car ride to his apartment, the bag of groceries he refused to let you pay for resting on the floor between your feet.

He let a soft laugh blow through his nose, then with eyes still on the road, he reached his right hand out to you and threaded his finger between yours. It was a quiet ride, the soft music from the radio filling in the comfortable silence.

“D’you like chicken?” He asked after a while.

“As pets or food?” You asked, teasing him. 

“Uh.. food… I hope.” He answered with a laugh.

“If I say pets, would that ruin your idea for dinner?”

“No” He answered simply, a soft smile covering his lips. “But I’ve been told foxes like chicken, so I think I’m in the clear.” 

A chuckle escaped his mouth when he saw your eyes grow bigger on your face and the redness on your cheeks match the stoplight above. He pulled your hand to his lips when a groan left yours.

“Fuckin’ hell…was it Joshua or my grandpa?” 

Carmy hummed ignoring your question and let go of your hand to finish parking the car. 

“C’mon! I gotta know if I have to beat the little shit.”

“You know what they say, snitches get stitches.”

“Yeah and in this case, he’s the snitch” You grumbled. 

He killed the engine then took your bag from the back seat, swung it over his shoulder and exited the car. In a few seconds he was by your side opening the door while you carried the bag of groceries. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” He said, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and walking through the building doors. “ I got stuck with Bear.” 

You liked Bear, to you it sounded quite appropriate. You had heard Fak and Richie call him that once or twice but never asked where it had come from.

“I like Bear, it suits you.” You looked up to see the pink hue creep up his neck, then looked forward again to finish climbing the stairs.

You reached a door at the end of the hallway and he searched for his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry for the mess, by the way.” He said nervously, putting the key in the hole and turning it.

You reassured him with a ‘S’okay’ and a soft rub on the back. He extended his arm to let you walk in first then closed the door behind him and turned on the lights.

The room was illuminated by the soft white light of the hallway and as you walked further into his space you corrected yourself, this was definitely what the inside of his head looked like. With small mountains of cooking books occupying every flat surface, an ashtray filled to the brim on the coffee table and pictures of people you hadn't met yet hanging on his small living room walls. 

“It’s not much but it’s… yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck in anticipation for your review.

You scanned the room once more, inhaling the scent of coffee and cigarettes that felt completely him, then turned with the bag in your arms and smiled. That seemed to be enough of an answer for him as his chest deflated from the pressure of his sigh and he walked to place a soft kiss over your hair.

“C’mon, or we’ll be havin’ dinner by midnight.” He joked, taking the paper bag from your arms and guiding you to the small space of his kitchen, turning the lights on in the process.

Almost mechanically, he began taking the products out and setting them in a bowl to wash by the sink, then pulled out the chicken and placed it on a cutting board. You moved behind him rolling up your sleeves and turning on the tab to wash the groceries, avoiding his stare.

“What? I wanna help.” You mumbled.

But he only let you help with that, insisting that he invited you over for dinner. From blatant observation, you had learnt that food was his love language, so you didn’t protest when after cleaning the lemons, he took you by the shoulders and planted you on one of the stools on the other side of the small counter.

“Here, you can help me with this” He said, placing a bottle of white wine and a barely used corkscrew in front of you.

“Yes, chef” You answered sarcastically, only to see his hands slightly falter and his darkened gaze sweep over to you, filled with the all too familiar memories.

You bit the inside of your lip and continued with your task, trying to ignore the spark that his eyes had ignited.

Between light conversation, the humming of his stereo and occasionally distracting yourself flipping through one of his cooking books, you watched him work. Skilled fingers danced with precision over the handle of his knife as he julienned the garlic and added it to the sizzling pan with butter and capers. The room was drowned with the aroma of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the hissing of frying chicken. 

He moved around with perfected ease, no hunched up shoulders or erratic movements like you would sometimes find him doing, like if he were expecting for the restaurant to collapse into itself at any given moment. No, this Carmy was in control, precise, doubtless. This is the Carmy you could imagine working for the top restaurants in New York, the one with the slicked back hair and rigid posture on the article Joyce had shown you. 

The haunting image of sleepless dull eyes flashed in your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to pull you from your thoughts. That and a short glass half filled with wine that Carmy slid to you. You lifted your head from your resting palm to thank him and took a sip from the glass as he poured himself one then added a splash of the liquid into the pan.

“So- uh,” You swallowed the tasteful liquid. “There’s something I wanna ask you.” You began.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He asked and turned your way with raised brows.

“So a friend of mine-”

“Wait, try this for me?” He interrupted, taking a spoonful of the sauce from the pan and carefully placing it in front of you, cupping the bottom to avoid spillage.

You leaned on the counter with your elbows and blew on the hot metal before placing it in your mouth. You swirled it around your tongue, the acidity of the capers exploding in your mouth and triggering a smile. He brought his hand up to your face, tilting your chin up to him and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip before leaning down and kissing it. It somehow made the sauce taste ten times better.

“That is delicious, chef..” You breathed, the compliment filling his chest.

He let go of your chin and turned back to the stove, to stir the pan.

“Sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’…?”

“Right- yeah…” you cleared your throat to get your thoughts back on track. “My friend Joyce, she’s a writer for Food & Wine, in New York…” His head shot in your direction and you could instantly see the shift in his features as the words left your mouth, but it was too late to stop them. “and when I saw her a couple weeks ago, she showed me an article from last year that she wrote about you- which is pretty cool n’ all- but it kinda made me wonder… H-how come you never talk about New York?”

Carmy cleared his throat and turned the stove off, the sizzling sound dying down slowly, then he rested both hands against the edge, muscles flexed and eyes darting around your face. You were thankful for the music filling in the otherwise insufferable silence.

“I-I dunno I jus’...guessed you didn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Why?” You asked confused. 

He shrugged lightly, distracting himself by plating the chicken and adding the minced parsley and some Parmesan on top. He slid both plates over on the counter and you held his hand before he could turn around. 

“You know I really care about you, right?” You searched for his gaze, but his eyes were focused on the dishes in front of him. “And if… whatever this is, is gonna work out, then maybe we can tell each other this kinda stuff… even the ugly, no?”

You reached your hand up slowly to his cheek, then when his eyes finally met yours, your stomach dropped to the floor. Sullen wide eyes bore into your own, a mournful expression that you had only seen flashes of before. He nodded in agreement, hand cupping the one on his cheek and turning to kiss the base of your palm. 

“No-yeah, you’re right…You’re right.”

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb for a few more seconds before he turned to get two sets of silverware then rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside you. You ate in silence for a while, only letting him know how delicious the food had turned out; then halfway through your plates, he took a sip of his wine to clear his throat and rubbed his palms along his thighs anxiously.

“Just, bare with me cause I’m not good with words, okay?” He took a breath, then began. “I-uhm… I was CDC at this really badass place. The food there was, god, it was… art is the only way to describe it. And the staff was disciplined and always on point, but the exec was an absolute dickhead. He would degrade and belittle and humiliate anyone for the smallest of mistakes, I think he got off on that shit cause not a day would go by when he wasn’t shouting on about how he was surrounded by idiots.”

Carmy took another sip from his glass and you reached out to place your palm over his resting on his thigh.

“You’ve probably met an idiot or two like that..” You gave him a sympathetic smile because he was right, though not at the level he seemed to describe. 

“Although, I think he took a liking to fuckin’ with me more than the others. I was used to it, y’know? Insecure fuckers who think you have it out for their job, it’s fine, you get used to it. Then the nominations for the JBF’s dropped and when he found out I got in and not him, it got much worse, like exponentially worse.”

His fingers jerked and wrapped a bit harder around yours, but despite the slight painful sting, you refused to let go.

“I would always be the first one there and last one to leave, I think I would get maybe… four hours of sleep, if I got lucky. Sometimes I would- um- I would throw up before work, probably some anxiety shit- I dunno- but it fucked with my stomach and made it hard to eat anything. I was miserable for those last few months there.”

He was silent for a moment, gaze fixed on the half eaten breast, but not entirely there.

“Why did you stay?” The question floated in the static air between you.

He took your hand in both of his, unsure fingers massaging the joints in yours to distract himself. You saw the remnants of little scars scattered around the hardened skin.

“The prestige, I guess. I liked… being good at something, the best actually.” He sneered in distaste. “I think I wanted my brother to know that I was good enough to work with ‘em.” He confessed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes raked up from your joined hands to his mournful expression. A thin red tint outlined his droopy eyes.

“Y-you never mentione-”

“He shot himself in February.”

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing you could say that would make the situation even remotely less terrible. Instead, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped your arms as much as you could around his frame. The soft shuddering of his heavy breaths blowing puffs on the side of your neck, where his face had buried.

It all clicked suddenly. The constant obsession of wanting- no- needing The Beef to succeed. How you had always thought Carmy had so much potential to just wither there. But it wasn’t wasted because he knew the industry, better than most ever did. He knew it with each persistent scar and cut on his arms, with each jab to the soul as they beat and battered him into pulp, when his only crime was possessing the talent they so desperately craved. He personally knew the limelight that many spend a lifetime chasing, and even if all that abuse had made him an outstanding cook, what he had lost in the process could never be regained.

You finally understood the desire he had for the beef to thrive, not only because he felt like he owed it to his brother but also as a big ‘fuck you’ to those motherfuckers that ever made him doubt himself.  

“I’m so sorry...” You whispered, because that’s all you could muster to say ‘Sorry for even asking’. 

“S’okay..” He whispered back.

“No it’s not, I shouldn’t have asked- it’s not my place-”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, placing a soft kiss over your hair.

“Hey, no you’re right, this is good for… us.” 

You pulled yourself from his embrace when the position had grown uncomfortable on your back, but still rested your head in the dip of his neck to stay close. 

“Thank you for telling me.”

His hand rubbed along the length of your arm as you both sat silently staring at your forgotten dinner. The rhythmic movements of his hand paired with the calm beats from his chest had your eyelids dropping every few seconds and an involuntary yawn filling your chest.

“D’you think I can stay over? ‘M too tired to make it home.” You asked, rubbing a bit of the sleep off your eyes.

Knowing you wouldn’t be finishing dinner, you began collecting the food in a single plate, then stood from the stool to stretch out your cramped muscles.

“Yeah- yeah sure. C’mon leave that, I’ll wash it up in the mornin’.” He said following behind you and taking the dishes from your hands, turning off all the lights and pulling you into the direction of his room.

While you took your sneakers off, he searched his drawers for a shirt and some bottoms for you to sleep in, then directed you into the bathroom where you changed and hoped that splashing a bit of water on your face counted as skin care for the night. You found Carmy already laying by the edge, hands relaxing on is head with eyes closed and if you weren’t so fucking tired, you would probably try to end the night in a more vigorous way. But as you crawled into the warm space beside him and he automatically pulled you into the direction of hhis arms, the tingling sensation that spread through your body when he kissed your forehead was way better than anything else.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest reminded you of the calm back and forth of the waves and you could almost hear the soft ocean breeze in his steady breaths.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” You mumbled with the last grains of consciousness you had left.

And it could have been the dream bleeding in through the cracks that let you hear a ‘You can stay forever if you’d like’ before losing yourself completely to the dark.

Chapter 8.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[alicedash2]

Shanks x Y/N with ADHD

Warning: nope, just fluff

- YN, so, I just wanted to say...- Shanks started to speak, but YN at first paid attention, but, suddenly, his mind started to wander

"Should I have studied? " YN starts to think

"That cloud looks like a boat"

YN starts looking up at the sky, then turning back to Shanks

"His face, he didn't trim his beard like usual"

"What did I eat yesterday?"

- Got it?- Shanks said at the end, YN having his attention back to Shanks

-Hi?- YN said.

-ah, I understand, you can leave it to me- YN said nervously

-... Can you repeat what I just said? - Shanks asked

- ah... - YN gives a nervous smile

- I'll say it again, try to focus, I'll speak more slowly and briefly - Shanks said

- sorry, Shanks- YN says

- ok, it's simple, you just need to reload the pistols and help me load some chests - Shanks says

-Oh, okay!- YN said with a smile

" let's go!" YN think

°•°°°•°•°•°

- It's the last chest...- YN was about to pick up and take the last treasure chest to the ship, when she sees a cat, which was rubbing against the chest

- how cute! He is so sweet!- YN was petting the kitten, completely distracted, but little did YN know that there was someone watching her from afar until a certain moment, YN felt something on her head, behind YN there was a pirate pointing a gun at her head

- don't scream, don't move, just give me the chest...- The pirate said

-Who are you?- YN asked

-Who am I doesn't matter, you're the redhead's girlfriend, huh? You'll serve a good hostage...-

The pirate takes her by the collar and lifts her, he takes her to the ship

- I can't believe it, YN, getting into trouble again? - Yasopp said laughing

- do not laugh! He has a gun pointed at me-- What is that? Wait, he has a gun pointed at me! And why am I being used as a hostage? YOU ARE DISGUSTING!- YN screams angrily

- you're the redhead's girlfriend! You must cost good money for your head, and shut up! - the pirate said while putting the gun on YN's head again

- Red-haired! Give me all your treasure and I'll set she free! Nobody gets hurt!- the pirate said in a big cruel smile

-he... better not - Shanks would say, he knew you would be safe

- why not?! I'll shoot her in the head if you don't do what I say!- the pirate starts screaming, trying to intimidate Shanks

- I think it's hard - Shanks turns and starts walking

- let's go to the ship, let's leave soon - Shanks gets a "yes" from the crew

-I WILL SHOOT- - The pirate finally realizes that YN was out of his hands

- How did she get out?! Where is she?! - the pirate asked

-I think I'm forgetting something, Shanks- YN saidp

- did you clean all the pistols?- Shanks asked, YN nods positively

- and the chests? We're going to need them - Shanks climbed onto the ship

- oh right, I ended up forgetting one! - YN says while going to the chest that he ended up forgetting and takes it back to the ship

- Hey! What are you doing?! You are my hostage!- the pirate frustrated with the situation spoke pointing his finger at YN

- am I? I didn't notice, sorry! I have to go, bye! - YN said while going up to the ship

-What a strange guy! - Yasopp said laughing

- he tried, let him, and YN! - Shanks called YN and then goes to her

- be more careful, although you ran away from him, he could have hurt you - Shanks runs his finger across YN's face

-but... I...- YN tries to speak, but Shanks turns around, asking them to leave soon, because he was having a party and he wanted to drink soon

- come, YN- Shanks called her, YN goes to Shanks-, who puts his arm over YN's shoulders and kisses her on the cheek

- you do thing that's just you can do it!...- Shanks whispers

- It's not my fault!- YN protests

- I know! Go drink and eat something, you haven't eaten anything today- Shanks would say taking her to the kitchen with the rest of the crew, they have fun for the rest of the day, just relaxing and partying

- you're so beautiful - Shanks said

-hm?- YN look at Shanks

- what? - Shanks ask

- I am what?- YN ask to Shanks

- ...-

-...-

-... nothing, let's go- Shanks said and starts walking towards the crew who were drinking

- WAIT! REPEAT! REPEAT WHAT DID YOU SAY! Did you call me what?!- YN scream at Shanks following him

[somelonelywordmonger]

I nervously wait for the moment when I run into some older guy who judges me on my appearance and for my love of Pink Floyd. "Oh you like Pink Floyd, do ya!? Name one song that isn't from The Dark Side of The Moon. Bet you can't."

And then I just hit him with this absolute banger from Ummagumma that I truly love: "Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict" and then I proudly cross my arms and go "hmph" smugly.

But I am nervous because while my autism knows it, my ADHD dictates that we 1. never remember from which album this comes from off the bat as, for me, Ummagumma, A Saucerful of Secrets, Piper at the Gates of Dawn, and sometimes Atom Heart Mother tend to blur together which makes me have to dig through the albums to find where it is. And 2. the name of that song is about as ridiculous as the song itself and I can't remember all of that LMAO.

Anyway, you all should give it a listen for a good laugh. It is pretty avant-garde, Waters. LOL

Wikipedia Article on the Song

[pekejscatbed]

Hearing You So Breathless (a sound i never wanna forget) | Dick Grayson x Wally West

Info/Warnings: Dick is 17 and still Robin, Wally is 19 and still Kid Flash, both are trans masc (t4t birdflash>>>), consensual kissing, making out, groping, and grinding, but No Smut, movie date (mentioned movies: Black Christmas (1974), Red, White & Royal Blue (2023), BASEketball (1998), and Barbie (2023)), both Dick and Wally are suggested to have ADHD

loosely based on me and my bf's date the other night <3

batman masterlist

------

It's their fourth date, and the two decide to have another movie date, as they both want nothing more than to curl up next to each other and forget their alternate lifestyles, even if it's just for one night.

Dick, despite popular belief, is actually a good cook, and makes a pot of Cajun Chicken Alfredo from a recipe Alfred taught him, enough to feed all of the Justice League, really, but Dick is just accounting for his boyfriends never-ending appetite; perks of dating a speedster, right? And not only do the two lovers have that to eat, but they have a cake, too, that Wally picks up on his way to Wayne Manor- a 'thank you' for cooking, even though Wally will maybe- probably- definitely- eat most, if not all, of it.

(The Alfredo is gone in ten minutes, and the cake in five.)

After they eat, they go up to Dick's room and put on their first movie, one of six they've chosen to watch tonight, three chosen by Dick and three chosen by Wally. The first movie is one of Dick's, an old horror movie surrounding Christmas that neither of them pay much attention to. Next is a movie Wally picked out, a romance and comedy about gay princes, with a non-descriptive sex scene that has Dick saying, "could be us", just to fluster his boyfriend, because with all the flirting Wally dishes out, he still gets so shy when someone flirts back. The third movie is another one of Dick's, a sports comedy with outdated humor, but it has both Dick and Wally laughing the whole time, and the two main characters, both male, kiss at the end, despite both being straight and pining for the same girl, leaving Dick and Wally to spout headcanon after headcanon about how the characters are "so totally into each other" and how they've "definitely explored each other's bodies".

During the fourth movie, a feminism movie surrounding children's toys that just recently came out with an actress who looks suspiciously similar to Harley Quinn and Wally's second choice, the two young men gets antsy from sitting still for too long despite the fact that neither of them want to stop cuddling. Luckily, they quickly come up with an alternative, one where they can still cling to each other but move enough to not want to rip their skin off; kissing. 

The only problem with kissing, however, is how shy Wally is whenever they start, nerves through the roof and turning him into a giggly mess, which then turns Dick into a giggly mess as well, and now both of the vigilantes are laughing every time one of them tries to initiate and kiss.

Eventually, they both calm down, and the laughing has eased Wally's nervousness, so now they can share a proper a kiss. Except one kiss turn into two, turns into three, turns into five, and on and on, until they're just making out, movie forgotten in the background. But then making out leads to Dick perched in Wally's lap, and then Wally falls back onto the bed with Dick on top of him, and then Dick is rolling his hips against Wally's,, and Wally is so excited he’s beginning to vibrate, and-

"You can touch me, babe." Dick breaks the kiss to look down at his boyfriend, who's face is flushed and Dick wonders if his own face is just as red.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure?"

"Yes, Wally," Dick presses another kiss to the redheads lips, "I'm sure."

And then Wally's hands are cupping Dicks breasts through his shirt- through Wally's shirt- and Dick hums into the other mouth. "You can touch me under the shirt, if you want."

"Do you want me to?" Wally is breathless now, looking up at his boyfriend with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and bruised lips.

"Yes."

So, Wally's hands find their way under Dick's shirt, groping the raven-haired males chest, skin on skin. His hands occasionally move down to Dicks hips, pulling him impossibly closer, and to Dicks ass, giving a light squeeze every now and then.

"You look so pretty under me," Dick mutters against Wally's lips, who bucks his hips up at the compliment with a whine, and he’s trying so hard to stay calm and not vibrate right through Dicks bed. Both of them are soaked through their boxers by now, and Wally asks if he can touch Dick lower, and Dick is guiding the others hand towards his boxers, fingers just slipping past the waistband, and-

Knock, knock, knock!

"Master Richard, please do clean up after yourself when cooking." Alfred's voice is smug from behind the door, like he knows what Dick and Wally are doing.

Dick groans, shouting back, "Yes, Alfred! I'll be right there!"

Wally laughs as Dick rolls off of him, though both boys are disappointed at the interruption.

"Finish this later?" Dick asks, pressing one last kiss to Wally's lips.

"Later." 

The two walk hand-in-hand downstairs, ready to wash these dishes as fast as possible (without powers, of course; Bruce always knows, and he's incredibly strict on his "no superpowers in Gotham” rule) and finish where they left off.

[k-marzolf]

Make me perfect.

reader as ADHD (written from MY experience with it after being diagnosed, once as a child, and once as an adult. Please keep in mind everyone experiences it differently), friends to lovers, fluff, fem!reader.

Word count; 419.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

&&&

It was late, and you and Billy were having some drinks, and playing Battleship, something you and your mother had played when you were growing up, before she died.

“A5.” Billy said, growing increasingly frustrated, watching your expression. You had a good poker face.

“No.” You said. You were slower to make a move, and Billy realized you were thinking it through, where his ships could be based on your recent fires.

You’d already taken down one of his ships. “D7.” You said sipping your sangria, looking up at him.

“Hit.” He said frowning, leaning back looking at you. “I haven’t had a challenge like this since Frank. How’re you doing it?” He asked, drinking his beer.

“Probability. Figuring the statistics in my head, based on where I’ve hit you.” You said, jiggling your leg as you always did. You fidgeted a lot, and usually lost interest in things quickly. You were always moving to one thing after another, keeping Billy on his toes.

And your organizational skills were terrible, your bookcase was random. Not alphabetical, not by series or color, just books thrown in there.

And your kitchen was a nightmare. Tupperware with the pots and pans, and spices with the canned goods.

He stared at you, “You musta done good in school, sweet pea.” He said, watching you.

“No. They said I wasn’t smart enough to be with the class, but I wasn’t slow enough to be in special education. I just worked hard, but I could never please my father.” You answered softly, nervously taking another drink.

“E7.” He said, processing what you’d said. In other words your father thought you were stupid. It made Billy angry.

“Hit.” You said, fidgeting more, eyes moving towards the living room.

He hummed, “Bored, baby?” He asked, amused.

You leaned back, eyes raising to Billy’s, “Want you to read Dorian Gray to me.” You said, finishing off your drink, a little buzzed.

Billy laughed, having learned to roll with whatever you threw at him. “And just as I got a hit on you.”

“Sorry. Dad always said I could be brilliant if I’d just hold my attention.” You mumbled.

He huffed a laugh, ruffling your hair. “It’s all good.” He stood up, and you followed, cheeks warm. You curled up against him, buzzing with contentment; reading with Billy was the one thing you could focus on for an extended period of time.

He wrapped an arm around you, and began to read, his voice rumbling against you, comforting you.

Here, you were accepted.