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babygirl-riley · 11 months ago

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Small Traditions

Simon starts to notice the small signs that his mother would do when he was young to what he now does with his girls

A/N: GUYS naturally I had to use @ave661 art cause listen ovaries HURT anytime she posts the dad!simon series 😭

“That she's gettin' older and I wish that you'd met her. The things that she'll learn from me, I got them all from you.”

Warnings: angst, fluff, dad!simon, mentions of childhood trauma, missing mom hours, swearing

Taglist

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

Simon was finally able to actually spend time with his baby girl. He was gone for a while, 3 months to be exact. Which made his baby 6 months old, he missed out on appointments and her first roll over on her tummy. So when he came home, he made it a mission to spend anytime and every time with her.

When she woke up early in the morning he turned to you, feeling you getting up. “No love stay asleep, ‘ll get the little one.” He mumbled, waking up a bit.

You hummed and laid back down immediately passing back out. Simon put on a black shirt as he adjusted his sweats as well. He made his way to his babygirl’s room. She was standing up holding onto the rail of her crib. Her smile beaming as she giggled, jumping up and down.

“Ah isn’t the little rascal,” Simon smiled chuckling lightly. She reached up for him as he picked her up. She placed his head on his shoulder and gripped his shirt. “I’m happy to see ya too princess.”

Simon changed her diaper and started to make his way into the kitchen. His daughter cooed as he held her close. She would play with his shirt or put it in her mouth. “See ya starting’ to teethin’.” He said softly, letting her suck the shirt.

After making the bottle he went into the living room to put on the tv. He set her on the couch with him on the edge, she was old enough to hold the bottle herself so he just watched. Her hands gripping her bottle as she chugged the milk down.

Simon chuckled now sitting on his calfs. “Damn little one, ya that hungry?”

He never knew if she was listening or even understanding by how her eyes would just stare blankly. As he stared at her, he noticed the small things. The features that would bring his heart to swell but also break a bit. The dimples that she had were in the same spot that his mother had.

Simon picked her little feet up and played with them as he thought. His mother would be proud of where he is at. The family he created after all the pain he went through. Never would have thought to be a father, after what he saw with his father. He was afraid to become him. To be him. Yet here he was, with a baby girl.

“Grandma would have loved ya,” He mumbled kissing her little socked feet. She sighed as she fought back a laugh, she was very ticklish on her feet. Just like Tommy, as kids Simon used to piss him off by tickling his feet. Simon inhaled deeply before shaking his head. He didn’t need to get emotional, there was no need. However just the way his daughter had some of the features conjured them. “Would love the way you look so much like me, have some similarities from her, hell Uncle Tommy would make fun of actually settling down.” He chuckled to himself.

He never thought even before the tragedy of his family that he would settle down. Family was plagued by his father. His childhood made Simon not want to give his own children one solely on fear of course. Yet here he is. Half of him and half of you. He would never trade it for the world.

Simon has even noticed the things he would do that his mother would do before his father was shunned away from the family. The way she would hum particular child songs to calm both him and his brother down. How when dad wasn’t home, she would whip up a random treat, particularly peanut butter bars. In which, your child has become addicted to them. Or when putting him to bed she would say ‘never forget, you’re smart, you’re handsome, and you’re loved.’ Instead his babygirl would be replacing handsome with beautiful.

Simon would only do it when you weren’t around, whispering it softly. Even though he doesn’t know you usually are around the corner, listening to him, with tears. Simon noticed these things as time grew on with his daughter. It didn’t hit him until now. Thinking of all the things that his mom would do with her grand baby. The family dinners. The babysitting. The holidays. All of it.

Simon noticed that tears were at the edge of his eyes. He shook his head and coughed then grabbed her little feet and softly ran his thumb from her heel to her tiny toes. “Ya made me soft ya brat.” He tickled her foot as she let out a laugh kicking his hands away.

Years gone past and now he has three of them. He stood in the kitchen as he placed lunches in certain boxes. You needed help as you did hair and gathered their school things. Simon never could do hair hell not even his youngest’s hair and she was 1. “Dad! I can’t find my shoes!” Millie yelled as she ran down the stairs.

Simon sighed and smirked. “Well since you didn’ put them away, I threw them in the trash.”

Millie stopped in her tracks and had the same smirk that was on his face on hers. “Uh huh, really though please.”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ight ‘light, they’re in the closet with the coats,” She shook her head and went towards the door. Simon placed the last thing in the last box. “Start puttin’ them in ya room yeah?”

Millie nodded and looked at him. “Aye,” She walked up to him and lifted her finger. “Love ya see you after?”

Simon looked down at her finger, his mom would tap his finger, going once up and they would switch sides and tap again. It was their way of saying bye and love you when dad had his beer and game review on. Simon smiled and tapped her finger as they flipped them over to do it again. “I’ll be pickin’ ya both up.”

“Daddy! Daddy,” His head snapped up to see his second daughter soaring down the stairs. “Look what mum did!” Her hair was in to braids that linked into one large one. A smile beaming on her face. Showing one of the dimples his mother once had.

Simon chuckled grabbing a small piece of it before placing his thumb on her cheek. “Looks beautiful Alli,” He said softly then kissed her on her forehead. Simon looked up the stairs and saw you smiling down, holding the newborn. “Ya takin’ them?”

You nodded as you walked down the stairs. “Yes I have to grab more things from the store.”

Simon and you already talked about the store and her taking Millie and Allison to school. Simon pushed and pushed to only get pushed back, eventually compromises came and he staying to give you a break from the 2 month old. Then he could pick up the girls after school. You handed Tessa over to Simon. “Already changed just needs to be held. Needy this morning.” You whispered kissing Simon softly on the lips.

“Roger,” He mumbled as he kissed her one more time hearing Allison fake gag. Simon chuckled as he turned handing you the boxes. “Packed and ready.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, grabbing them, and ushering the older two out the door. “I’ll be back!”

“Bye dad!” Millie yelled walking out first.

“Bye daddy!” Allison followed suite turning to sign ‘I love you’ with one hand.

Simon did it back cradling Tessa between his chest and bicep. You smiled at him, kiss towards him. He smiled as the door shut. Tessa wiggled and started to whine. “Shh shh,” He whispered looking down at her. “It’s ‘light we can go down stairs and watch somethin’ yeah?”

Later that day Millie and Allison opened their lunch boxes that day and found a small sugary snack with a note attached reading; ‘what do you call an angry carrot… A steamed veggie.’ They always loved it, having notes from dad that had terrible jokes even if Millie would roll her eyes and smirk. She loves them.

You didn’t know about it until the next day. You were check boxing everything that was needed to grab as Simon helped with Tessa. When you opened it you saw the note, chuckling to yourself. Millie stood next to you and looked at you. “Dad says that Grandma Riley would leave jokes for him and Tommy.”

You looked over at her and up to the stairs, making sure he wasn’t coming yet. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Millie smiled. “I always read ‘em to my friends. Just don’t tell him. His head will inflate more.” She joked grabbing her box.

You smiled as you watched Simon come down the stairs in his uniform. “I shouldn’ be long,” he mumbled having his balaclava in his pocket. Millie frowned as did Allison. “I told Uncle Price I’ll be late to take you two.” He smiled at them as their faces calmed into a soft content expression.

Simon handed Tessa to you and kissed your cheek. “I’ll be home no later than 8.” You nodded and watched them go out the door.

Simon opened the door for both Millie and Allison to get in as they went down the street. “Was Grandma Riley fun?” Millie asked nonchalantly as she looked out the window.

Simon could feel his throat hitch from the sudden question. “Yes.”

“Do you do things like she did to us?”

Simon looked in the rear view mirror for a brief moment. Only if she knew, all the things his mother taught him has been passed down to his girls. After his father was kicked out for good his mother was more open about good parenting, she always was of course. However there wasn’t any hidden signs or anything of the sort. Even when he was older, when confrontation came around, she was kind and gentle. Since both him and his brother didn’t know how to handle or deal with situations as so.

Simon taught his girls to be polite and kind to everyone. Just like his mother was. Everything she did that he remembered he wanted to pass along. Simon inhaled for a moment. “Ya know the finger taps,” Both her and Allison nodded their heads. “That came from grandma. It was our sign to say love you and bye.”

Allison smiled. “Did she do the night routine?”

Simon smiled. “Yes.”

It was silent again before Millie shifted a bit. “Grandma Riley sounded cool.”

Simon smiled again and nodded. “She would have loved all of ya.”

It was good silent as he stopped in front of the school, as kids packed to go inside. Allison opened the door and turned with her finger out. Simon and her did the signature finger taps as she hopped out. He waited until she caught up with friends that were right outside the car. Then he went to Millie’s school.

“What happened to them?” Millie asked, Simon knew that eventually the girls would put two and two. Uncle Tommy and Grandma Riley not around, yet dad talks highly of them? It would make a tween curious.

Simon took a second to think of the answer. He never told you until 3 years of your guys’ relationship. Millie was too young to know but he couldn’t lie to her either. “Someday I will tell you.” Was all he could say to it.

Millie nodded and chuckled. “Was she terrible at the jokes like you?”

Simon laughed a bit. “Terrible? My jokes are amazin’!”

Millie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah yeah.” Simon pulled up in front of the school and he turned to her. She unbuckled and lifted her finger, smiling. “Glad you keeping’ traditions dad. Grandma would be happy.”

Simon felt his chest tighten as he smiled it off. Doing the taps. “She would be happy indeed,” He nodded his head to the school. “Get goin’ ya love the joke today by the way.”

Millie laughed as she opened the door and shook her head once more. “Yeah maybe.”

Simon watched until she got into the school and drove to the base. “You would have loved ‘em mum.” He mumbled to himself as he kept the tears at bay.

Even through all the hardships, he will be forever grateful for his mother and her teachings. He hopes that one day that she will meet his family, the family that he knows she would have loved. To see how much as changed in Simon that he thought that could never happen. So she could see that not only her that showed him unconditional love even through the darkest parts but how his girls have showed him as well.

Simon sighed as he relaxed. Yeah, she would have loved them all.

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sunshineandspencer · 5 months ago

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Friendly face (Part 3)

A/N: I know I said I always succumb to peer pressure, but that did not need to be tested. Also if I did a Hotch(or Spencer) taglist, would anyone be interested, also.. how do you do a taglist?? I may be 20 and from the UK, but I have only been using tumblr for about two months, I’m learning (slowly). [I’ve made a form for a taglist!! it’s underneath the parts!!]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Receptionist!Reader.

Summary: Little does the team know, their little receptionist and their Unit Chief had been closer for a lot longer than any of them knew. And while he’s brilliant at hiding it, she is now.

Word Count: 825

Warnings: please, stop requesting the fluff it hurts my little heart

part 1! and 2!!

be added to the taglist!!

Honestly, she could come to work with a massive neon sign floating above her head saying ‘stupidly in love with Aaron Hotchner’ and it would have probably the same effect as she normally does to him.

While he goes through the rules, needing to check about whether their relationship - yes, relationship - was actually legal, they needed to keep it secret.

A serious conversation they’d had over dinner well over six months ago, one that she’d seem to conveniently forget whenever they were actually in the office together. Thankfully that isn’t very often, unless he’s personally asked for files she stays by her desk.

Sometimes, he will admit, he requests reports just to get her into the office, but not very often.

However, it seemed to have been just often enough for his coworkers - Emily, mostly - to realise. From there, and after getting everyone else to join her, they were trying to find exactly how much the pair actually cared for each other.

Crowding together at the round table, quickly giving everything they’d noticed before Hotch arrived.

Emily starts, grinning at both Morgan and Spencer, nothing better than a bit of office gossip.

“So, she doesn’t hide anything. But, we’re all well aware that he sometimes uses excuses to get her into his office. But I noticed that she always leaves post-it notes on the files that she does give him, and they do look sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to believe Hotch actually likes that.”

Spencer chimes in, wringing his fingers lightly. He loves gossip as much as the next person, but the receptionist is a sweetheart and treats him so kindly, plus he doesn’t really believe in talking about other people’s business.

However, he’s invested in her happiness, and knows that there’s more to the pair than meets the eye.

“Well.. he smiles at her, more than I’ve ever really seen. And he does things for her that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He helped her set up her desk and made sure she settled properly with the team.. plus Penelope found the paperwork and he requested her to be moved up.”

“What?! She didn’t tell me that!” Morgan looked pretty dejected, and Emily could only pat his back apologetically. But as much as they want to say that Morgan is her favourite, Spencer is everyone’s favourite.

He just shrugged, and Morgan kept talking, needing to add in what he’d seen - and profiled - about the two of them.

“Whatever. We’ve all seen how smitten Jack is with her, kid practically has hearts coming from his eyes. And I heard them talking about her having stayed over on the weekend. And we all see the way Hotch is with the two of them, it’s like the past decade of the job lifts off him.”

They all eventually came to the agreement that they believed that Hotch and their receptionist were together, and they needed to know more. The achilles heel of most profilers, the desire for gossip whenever they can get it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, they quickly nominated Spencer to ask Hotch, panicking the younger agent as he spluttered over his words.

As Hotch stepped through, with her following close behind, files in her hands as she waited for Hotch to take them. Waving to the rest of the team happily, very grateful the images weren’t on screen yet. Emily booted Spencer under the table and he jolted, getting Hotch’s attention.

“Hotch!” His voice cracked, how cute. “I uh- we, we wondered if you and uhm.. if you two--”

Christ, she wanted to take pity on the poor boy, looking up at Aaron. Thankfully he seemed amused rather than irritated that they’d worked it out. Looks like they got their answers on whether or not the relationship was allowed.

He nodded at her softly and she grinned, leaning up to peck his lips quickly, stuffing the files into his hands.

“Let me know if you take the case?”

“I’ll text you.”

Grinning, she winked at Spencer, which earned her a warning “sweetheart”, which only fed into her giddiness now that they didn’t have to hide it. Loving the surprised looks on their faces, even though Morgan was definitely acting as if he knew the whole time. Exactly as Aaron said he would, god she loves that he knows them so well.

“Stay safe you lot. Bring my boyfriend home safe or I’ll hunt you down!”

As she walked out of the briefing room, she smacked Aaron’s ass and scampered off giggling, being followed with his scolding voice.

“Dove.”

Eventually, he had to turn back around to his grinning teammates - bar a very embarrassed Spencer who now avoided his boss’ gaze - he sunk into his chair. Waiting for whichever one was going to say something first.

Emily, of course, was the one to speak up first, looking at him all innocently as if she didn’t know damn well what she was doing.

“Dove~?”

“Don’t push it.”

Want more?! Good!

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner

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with-my-calamitous-love · 3 months ago

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BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN / SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS

shouto todoroki x reader

shouto makes a mental checklist of all the things he loves about his home. (you.)

inspired by cornelia street

houses and homes are two different things for many different people.

for shouto, a house was simply a structure that sheltered the most personal details of ones life. the family, the fights, the scars… a house was a place he was forced to be in, forced to grow up in. it was never happy for him.

and shouto knew his childhood house well, as if there were key signs that warned him of incoming disaster. the stillness of the house, even the old floorboards refusing to move. the sudden change of tension in the air the moment the front door opens. the lack of his siblings laughter, all hiding away from him.

the worst kinds of hurt come from the people who should be protecting you.

so he’s hesitant when it comes to getting close to people. his worst fear, now as an independent pro-hero, is going back to one of those still, tear-filled houses.

and you can’t blame him. he doesn’t know what a home is, at first.

1) home is your apartment.

first, shouto learns that home is going to your apartment after work, because he knows your fridge is actually filled and you’ll have clean towels for him to dry off. as self sufficient as he may be, he’s a youngest child at heart. that means be loves to have people to lean on- though they’re far and in between.

as he drives through the city, its as though the street lights point him in your direction. he’s completely mystified, wanting nothing more than to seek your refuge. he barely has a chance to fumble with his keys before you’re already opening the front door for him, as if you just sensed his presence.

“how was work?” he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook food on the stove. you love him when he walks out of the shower, wearing nothing but his black sweatpants with a loosely tied jaw string. his perfect muscles are glistening with water, and his hair smells like your shampoo.

he hums as he listens to you, clinging with zero interest of letting go. he loves this, and loves coming home to you after gruelling days at work. sure, his house was bigger, maybe more lavish with unreasonable monthly rent, but all of that doesn’t compare to your laughter at his shitty jokes. it pails in comparison to your favourite mug and the specific way you take your coffee. its the mundane things that make you so beautiful to him.

2) home is your cooking.

he’s used to running on an empty stomach. he doesn’t pay too much attention to his self care, despite his status and previous training. he simply just doesn’t have the time to sit down and have a proper meal, not when he has to work hard and maintain his rank.

all of that changes, however, when you begin your ritual of making soba for him every friday night. at first, he’s confused- not that its incredibly hard to make, or that it would take you that much time- no. he’s confused as to why you did it specifically for him. i mean, sure, you two are dating, and it was a really sweet gesture, but it was also so personal. you could have surprised him with flowers, or treats, or lacy lingerie, but instead you crafted the dish he loves so much.

and it tastes so good.

“your mom told me its your favourite.” you sheepishly admit, referring to the phone call you had with rei earlier. “did she?” shouto smiles, slurping up that last piece of soba eagerly. it makes him warm, knowing that you actively talk with his mom, even when he’s not around.

and she loves you, because you’re an extension of who shouto is. and he will proudly announce that to his family, wanting to share that love with others too. he wants to thank you not just for the food, but for everything else too. though he can’t quite grasp just everything you’ve done for him.

3) home is your smile.

its a no brainer that shouto has money. he grew up rich, and has become one of the most successful pro heroes to date. he loves to spoil you, because he loves seeing the way your eyes light up when he hands you a bouquet of your favourite flowers or that new book you’ve been raving about.

he’s also a man of style. he loves to buy quality clothes and comfortable fabrics, obviously for himself but more so for you. he loves seeing that the jacket around your shoulders is his, walking around in the autumn air.

“you’ll get cold.” you almost whine, but fail to make an actual protest as he leaves his long trench coat around your shoulders. you love the smell, his cologne on your skin. shouto just smiles- he’s never really been impacted by temperatures too much anyway. “its alright, beautiful. it looks better on you, anyway.”

he loves to see you basking in the summer sun, walking through the subtle crisp of autumn leaves, spring pollen making your nose scrunch up adorably, or the way the snowflakes sit on your eyelashes. he loves you all the time.

or the fancy dates he takes you out on, long nights of drinking and laughter. and he’ll happily call you two a taxi, hoping that the person on the other end of the line can excuse his happy-intoxicated slurs. you two sit in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar.

“you’re so cute when you’re drunk, love.”

“you’re -hic!- just as drunk as me, sho.”

“am i?”

he’s also the type to almost forget your address when the driver asks- he’s way too drunk, half off of the alcohol and half off of you.

4) home is your arguments.

familial arguments aren’t a new thing for shouto. he’s used to it- the tears, the yelling, the scars that cut deep. but for the first time, maybe ever, he doesn’t want to back his bags and leave before you even know he’s gone.

he finds himself wanting to stay, wanting to make things right. he’ll distance himself, let himself cool off before going to talk with you. he doesn’t dare to say the wrong thing, to let something slip at the heat of the moment. he needs you to know that he loves you not just through every kiss, but through every argument too. he’s here for the good and the bad.

he hates seeing you cry. your pain, the person he loves more than anything being in pain is a kind of heartbreak time could never mend. he’s terrified if you ever walk away. you’re the one person he can’t lose. absolutely not.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous.” he hums, laying down on the bed next to you. he makes it impossible to stay mad at him, for whatever has happened. you just sigh, any traces of anger disappearing when he touches you, pulling you in and forcing you to look at him. he has puppy dog eyes and doesn’t even know what they do to you- and it drives you insane. “i’m sorry too.”

you don’t say anything else, but you opt to leave a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before drifting off to sleep in his arms. in the morning he’ll call in sick for you and bring you your coffee in bed. it doesn’t matter how stupid, how petty or how hurtful the argument was- you two will make up.

5) home is the memories you’ve made.

shouto can’t dance. and for a man who is supposedly good at everything, you find that absolutely adorable.

“am i doing this right?” he asks, holding your waist close to him as the two of you sway together. the lights are off, the soft glow of the refrigerator light illuminating the two of you like a snow globe, round and round.

you nod reassuringly, the sounds of some american singer playing on the radio. both of your bare feet creak beneath the wooden floorboards, as if the house itself was humming along to the tune.

this is your religion. and this is a sacred new beginning for shouto. the first house he had ever felt was home.

“i love you.” you whisper, getting on your tip-toes slightly to kiss his jawline. “i love you so much, darling.” he hums back, vowing to remember this moment forever.

6) home is wherever you two are, together.

he never wants to lose you. he physically, cannot lose the floorboards, the streets, and the home he’s loved you on. he’d never walk these streets again. if they don’t lead to you, they don’t lead home.

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

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Sound

Steph Catley x Baby!Reader

Summary: Steph talks with Macca

The rest of the Tillies crowd around you when Steph settles in a seat.

She'd left training early last night to pick you up and sign the paperwork and had slept in. She was lucky Tony was so accommodating. This was a big moment and she's glad that she's got you now.

The idea of adopting hadn't been on Steph's mind at all until she'd finished a game and looked up to see a little girl holding a sign that said 'This is my adoption day present'.

There was something about it that got Steph thinking. It hadn't crossed her mind once and then all of a sudden it was all she could think about. The process was long and she was constantly flying back and forth from England to Australia to sort everything out.

"How old is she?" Mini asks.

"Six months," Steph replies, smiling down at you.

"You're going to be a great mum, Steph. If you need any help just call. I'd be happy to babysit for a bit."

"I can't ask you to do that. Really, it's-"

"Trust me," Mini laughs, patting her on the shoulder," Give it a few weeks and you'll see why I offered." Her eyes are drawn behind Steph's shoulder. "Kyra! Charli! Stop teaching Harper bad habits!"

More of her teammates come up to fawn over you but Steph's waiting in anticipation for one in particular.

You seem unbothered by all the noise, something almost everyone comments on and Steph has to offer them all a forced smile as she rocks you back and forth and pulls silly faces to make you giggle.

"You wanted to talk?" Mackenzie says as she falls back next to Steph," You sounded pretty serious. You're not dying are you?"

"No...Macca...I was wondering if I could get some advice."

"If it's about changing position then I don't recommend goalkeeper. If it's about this little angel, then I'm not sure I'm much help either."

"I think you are." Steph isn't quite sure why she's treating it like it's some big secret. Everyone will know eventually but it's personal right now and she doesn't want anyone prying.

"Steph, you're scaring me a little."

"You know when you found out about your hearing loss, did you feel like learning auslan would help?"

Macca's brow furrows. "Why would..." Her eyes drift down to you. Somewhere across the room, Kyra and Charli shriek. It's enough to catch everyone off guard, heads automatically turning to the source of the noise but you don't react in the slightest. "Oh."

"She failed her first AOAE test and then the second one too. She failed her ABR test too."

Macca reaches out gently as Steph looks at her with wide eyes. "Is it complete hearing loss or is she hard of hearing like me?"

"Like you. I've...I've got baby hearing aids for her..." Steph digs around in her pocket to bring out a little blue case decorated with whichever stickers caught your eye when she got you yesterday. You'd smacked a few of them when Steph presented them to you and she had stuck them onto the case. She pops it open to reveal the aids.

Honestly, Mackenzie didn't even know that you could give babies hearing aids.

"She doesn't really like them though. The doctor said to keep them in whenever she's awake but...She really doesn't like them sometimes and I don't want her teased when she goes to school."

"It's different," Macca says eventually as she watches your whole face be taken over by a yawn," I was much older when I found out. I knew how to speak and communicate. I...I don't think it could hurt to learn it with her although if you're staying with Arsenal long-term then you should probably do a bit of bsl too, just to be safe."

"Right, yes."

Steph had known about your hearing loss for months now. Some of the workers assigned to you had tried to warn you away from her because of it. They made you out to be a difficult case or defective in some way.

But Steph thought you were a little angel.

You were so perfect and sweet and she wanted to adopt you even though everyone told her that there were better, hearing babies to choose from.

But you had endeared her from the moment you met, smacking blocks together and chewing on your fingers.

"You should put her hearing aids in though," Mackenzie says," She'll get used to them eventually but they're no help if she's not wearing them. Did they teach you how?"

Steph nods. "Yeah."

"Can you teach me? Girls like us have to stick together. I can't believe they make ones that small."

That shocks a laugh out of Steph as she sits you upright to slip your hearing aids on.

You whine a little when they're turned on, scrunching up your face at all of the noise you can suddenly hear.

"Yeah," Macca laughs at your annoyance," It was like that for me too. It's so strange that people just regularly hear so much."

You turn your head towards her when she speaks, the first time she's seen you react to noise at all and giggle, kicking your feet.

Steph beams as she stands you up on her thighs and kisses your chubby baby cheeks, blowing a few raspberries on them for good measure.

"Can we play with the baby now?" Kyra asks, suddenly barrelling into the quiet moment," Please?"

"No, Kyra," Steph says with an eye roll," You can play with my angel after camp. You'll be seeing a lot of her back in London."

"Please? I'm really responsible! I take care of Harper all the time!"

In sync, Steph and Mackenzie both watch as Charli goads Harper into rolling off the table. Thankfully, Mini is there to catch her just in time.

"That wasn't my fault! Charli was watching her!"

"Go and play with Harper, Kyra," Steph says," This angel needs a little nap so she can greet her adoring fans at dinner. Maybe, if you're good, you can help feed her."

Kyra walks off in a huff as Steph gets up from her seat.

"Steph," Macca calls out as Steph starts to get ready to put you down for a nap," My audiologist in London does kids as well. I can set up an appointment for you if you want."

"Thanks, Macca."

In the quiet of her hotel room, you finally settle. Steph's seen this kind of behaviour from you before, on those visits before she could adopt you.

Noises still seemed a little shocking to you and strange.

You give her a little smile to show off the few teeth you've got and Steph flutters kisses upon your cheeks as you giggle ecstatically.

It's the best sound in the world and Steph settles on the bed with you on your chest. You're still giggling as she slips your hearing aids out so you can sleep peacefully.

"Go to sleep, angel," She coos to you, close enough that you can feel the vibrations of her words against you," We're going to have so much fun together."

#woso x reader #steph catley x reader #steph catley #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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boxofshadows · 1 year ago

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How Pro-Heroes would react to y/n getting attacked by a villain and ending up in the hospital

✦Includes: Midnight, Eraserhead, All Might, Ms. Joke✦

A/N: sfw!! requests are open if your fav isn't here! I'll write for anyone~★

Midnight

Midnight is incredibly good at hiding her emotions, I believe. Shes used to wearing a mask 24/7 in her hero role, so when she finds out you'd been hospitalized by a villain, she puts on a mask of levelheadedness. She would feel guilty if you had to comfort her after you'd just been traumatized.

Course, you aren't used to this side of her, so you assume she doesn't care. You end up breaking down and asking if she even cares.

"Of course I care, love, did I make it seem like I didn't?" "I'm so sorry baby, I just didn't want to stress you more."

After that, things smooth out. If you don't mind the eventual scar, she'll make it into a joke and flirt about it. "Y'know, I always thought scars were attractive~" and similar things.

If you don't like the idea of a scar, she offers comfort, and a way to hide it until you're more comfortable. "If you want, I can help you hide it and minimize it."

Shes very affectionate the entire time, she doesn't leave the hospital until you basically force her to go check on your cat and get some actual sleep.

Secretly blames herself for not being able to protect you.

After you get out of the hospital she doesn't treat you like glass, persay, but she does NOT let you do anything against your doctor's orders.

She also helps you sign up for therapy and reminds you that whatever happened wasn't your fault. (Hypocrite much?)

Kisses you and reassures you 24/7

It takes a bit for her to stop blaming herself, but you work together:)

Eraserhead

Most emotional man I know of. "logical" my ass.

Aizawa is immediately at your side. Like he will run across rooftops to get to you. He has NO chill. Part of me believes he gets to the hospital at the same time as you.

Clingiest motherfucker alive. Every ten minutes in the waiting room it's "Can I go in yet?" To the nurses. He doesn't sit down once.

Once he gets to you literally nothing is capable of getting him away from you.

He comforts you whenever you need it, deep down he knows there was nothing he really could've done to get there sooner. He's completely and totally focused on you.

When your other friends get the clear to see you, Joke takes pictures of you and him sleeping in the most awkward position

Brings your favorite blankets and foods

Makes you a playlist of classical music to help you sleep

Anything you need, bro is on it immediately

Once you're released he refuses to let you do anything strenuous. He opens the car door for you, helps you get buckled, etc etc.

He does take the hint when you ask to shower alone, and backs off a bit after that.

He offers to ask Recovery Girl to heal you, and brings you painkillers when you need them.

He understands your paranoia after the incident and helps you learn basic ways to keep yourself safe.

All Might

Would get to the hospital as soon as he could, but knows that you'd want him to stay and finish any responsibilities.

If he's in the middle of something, he finishes it as fast as he can and then gets to the hospital.

He gets there just as you're being taken to a room

Instantly asking if you're okay, if you need anything. The second you say you need something he's on it.

Also a clingy motherfucker

But he knows how to distract you from whatever hurts with dumb jokes and pictures of his student's progress.

Knows how to fill dead air basically. Doesn't really ask about the villain unless you bring it up, just to make sure he doesn't potentially trigger anything.

Listens empathetically when you tell him about what happened.

Offers to get you food, but you're both indecisive so it's just a back and forth of:

"what do you want to eat?"

"idk, I'm good with whatever, what do you want"

"you're the one in the hospital bed, what do you want?"

"you have to go get it, so-"

"fine, (food you hate) it is."

"..."

Won't treat you like glass, he knows what it's like and fuckin hated it.

Still offers to help you though, he just doesn't want to suffocate you

Takes you on drives across the coast to get a break from the city

Ms. Joke

Tries to act like she wasn't worried and knew you'd be fine the whole time

She didnt

She had to call Midnight to calm her down

Makes jokes about you "being apart of the club now" (having been attacked by villains) and then apologizes for what happened

Brings you treats and things to make you smile (comfort items, silly things she saw at the store, etc)

Has Nemuri smuggle your guy's tiny dog in and out like twice

Sits in silence and watches you sleep

Brings you headphones to drown out the annoying beeping

A little over protective afterwards

Clingy, but not Shouta clingy.

"you should go home"

"why, is something wrong?"

"you haven't left the hospital in a week, you clown."

"oh yeah. Oops!"

"..."

"ok ok I'm going!"

Showers, but also washes the exact same clothes and rewears them just to fuck with you "you didn't say I had to change"

"tell me you washed those, em, or you're on the couch and the dog gets your pillows."

"Of course I did!"

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sweaterkittensahoy · 1 year ago

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My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.

When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.

Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."

Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.

And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.

I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.

Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.

But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"

This is bullshit. She was very aware.

Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.

No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."

But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.

So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.

It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.

It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.

#disability awareness month #disability #chronic pain #endometriosis #ada rules

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skipper1331 · 11 months ago

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Ice rink // Leah Williamson

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it!

Leah had a plan. It’s genius, so would she tell.

She would take you on a date but not just any date - a winter date. She knew you loved winter and everything about it.

Your eyes lit up at the slightest sign of snow, you started baking (even though you couldn‘t bake), mandarins became your to-go snack (at least one eaten a day) and whatever you did Christmas themed music was playing in the background. Winter was your favorite time of the year and Leah had made it her mission to make it even more special.

"Special date night, tonight, I’m picking you up at six" the blonde smiled brightly, peppering kisses to your cheek as you walked towards the changing room.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, a blush covering your cheeks.

"For me to know, for you to find out" she replied sweetly, kissing your lips before she hurried away. Leaving you alone in the hallway, thoughts running wild. Leah was very pragmatic, something you learned quickly as you started dating the blonde. Date night usually meant that she would take you out to a fancy restaurant, be the charmer herself as she would open every door for you and complimented you every two seconds and of course, she would pay for your dinner. There wasn't much point in discussing it - she stuck to her opinion: "need to treat my girl right", "I am taking you out, so I am paying"

Every now and then you tried though, enjoying the unamused glare she would send you and trying to explain herself, "you can pay me back with kisses" she would huff, grumbling about your ridiculousness - there was no way she would let you pay for anything. She was Leah Williamson, how could she ever let her girl pay for her?!

So, what was she up to? Special date? Should you be scared?

At home, you realized something. Leah hadn‘t told you what to wear. You couldn‘t be over or underdressed for her special date night.

You

what should I wear?

darling

what happened to hello? how are you?🙄

not even a heart, my girl

you‘re hurting my feelings

You

ha ha.

my dearest lover, what should I be wearing tonight?❤️❤️

better?

darling

much better.

Wear whatever you like, you always look beautiful

You

Leah, that‘s not helping

darling

something causal, baby x

With new information, you showered, freshening up for your night with Leah, dressing in some casual clothes.

The two of you haven‘t been together that long yet, both of you still living in your own apartments even though, Leah spent most of her time in your flat. The blonde was far too obsessed with you to stay away from you longer than a few hours. Nights where she had to attend to events were awful for her. She would rather cuddle you and have a night in instead of being out, surrounded by cameras and the media.

After event nights, she would return to your home, not thinking about her own - she just wanted to have you back in her arms.

As you waited patiently for the time to pass by excitement flashed through your body, what did she have planned? You thought about some date ideas Leah might had planned but none of them made any sense - it was Leah after all.

5 minutes before the clock ticked six, your doorbell rang. Happily, you got up from your seat on the couch, walking towards the door to open it.

"Hi!" the blonde greeted you, pulling you close with one arm as her other hand held a bouquet of flowers before she pressed a loving kiss to your lips, "I’ve missed you" she mumbled. Your cheeks turned crimson at her confession, relaxing further in her embrace, "missed you too" you admitted shyly, pecking her cheek.

"Got these for you, my girl" she showed you the flowers proudly as if you haven‘t seen them already, "they look almost as beautiful as you" she grinned.

Walking into your home she like she owned it, she tossed her bag aside, making her way to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

"Thank you, baby, they‘re perfect" you told her as you trailed behind her.

With the flowers in the vase resting on the counter, her full attention was back on her favorite, "come here" grabbing your hands, she pulled you in, arms snuggling around your waist, "you look so beautiful" she muttered, pressing loving kisses to each of your cheeks before kissing your lips. Immediately, a blush spread across your features, Leah’s touch and sweet words making you melt.

After a quick lovely kissing session - Leah couldn‘t stop peppering kisses along your features, your blush and giggle too cute, the two of you left your home.

The blonde sat behind the steering wheel, hand firmly resting on your thigh as she drove to your destination. The whole driving journey you stared out of the window, admiring the city lights, the little bit of snow that was falling and all the house decorations. Everything was just so christmassy - you loved it.

As the car slowly came to a stop, the defender requested softly, "close your eyes please" to which you obeyed. Your girlfriend pressed a thank you kiss to your cheek before she hurried out of the car to your side, opening the door, "be careful, baby" she helped you out of the car, hand protecting your head, so you wouldn‘t hurt yourself. "I‘ll guide you some steps, keep your eyes closed" her arms wrapped around her waist to steady yourself as she led you to the ice rink.

"Open your eyes!"

Carefully, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness of the Christmas lights, only now realizing the Christmas music playing.

"Ice skating?"

"Yes! Awesome, isn‘t it?" she had one of the brightest grins on her face, so confident in her idea. "Have you ever been ice skating before?" you asked as you couldn‘t imagine the girl on the ice without falling on her bum.

"Of course, but don‘t worry, my girl, we‘ll get you one of the penguins" she replied cockily with a special glint in her eyes. She was lying - the 'I’m trying to impress you'-lying. Nonetheless, you went with it as the big smile on her made you forget everything.

"Let‘s go. We need skates" grabbing your hands, she pulled you to the shoe rental.

"Ready, baby?" you asked, standing a step away from ice rink entrance.

"Yeah, sure" she answered with some hesitation, suddenly feeling afraid. Sensing her nervousness, you took her hand, "can we go at the same time?" smiling shyly. She nodded, stepping on the rink with you.

"Ah!" the defender shrieked as she slipped away, just catching the rink wall in time.

"You okay?" you giggled.

"Yes! put my weight on the wrong side" she shrugged, standing back up correctly, "come on" she pushed herself away from the rink, trying to balance herself in the skates - failing miserably. Her arms flung in every direction, hips and body too but it was no help. She fell again. She huffed, getting up immediately as she grabbed your hand, determined to show you that ice skating wasn‘t that hard. "Do you want some help?" you asked softly, the feeling on being on the ice an old familiar one to you. The sounds of the blades scratching the ice, the tightness of the laces and the shivering warm sensation made you feel nostalgic. You had spent hours on the ice as a kid, falling over and over again while you tried new figures.

"No, I told you I can ice skate" she stated, grumbling "can‘t be that fucking hard" under her breath. She left her hand in yours, feeling the need to do so as she tried again - it was rather moves of not falling than skating.

"Ah!" she yelled, pulling you down as she fell once again. You fell right on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs, "sorry. are you alright?"

"yes" she huffed, getting more and more annoyed at each of her falls.

The hand holding soon turned into arm clinging as she desperately tried to stay on her feet, not wanting to fall again.

But she continued to fall, your heart slowly aching at her misery. Indiscreetly, you guided her to the wall where she instantly grabbed onto it, clinging for her dear life. "Let me get you a penguin" you suggested, eyes searching for one on the rink.

"I‘m not a baby!" she grumbled, pouting and crossing her arms - she didn‘t come that far her skates slipping away, arms back at hugging the rink.

"They are not for babies, they‘ll help you, my love"

She huffed, glaring at you, not used to the fact she couldn‘t do something - something as simple as ice skating, "fine"

"thank you" you pressed a kiss to her cheek before you skated away with an ease. like a goddess you glided across the ice, Leah amazed by it. It looked so effortless as you did. Not once did you fall - not when people suddenly appeared in your way nor when people skated straight into you, you just turned on the ice skating backwards as you helped said people not to fall themselves.

Leah‘s mouth agape, when did you learn to skate? You were glowing on the ice.

"I didn‘t know you could skate" the defender pouted in awe as you were back at her side, the penguin in front of you.

"You never asked" you laughed, pushing the penguin to her, "I used to figure skate" you stated at her raised brows.

"And you didn‘t tell me!" she looked at you offended, playfully hitting your chest. All her annoyance had washed away by seeing you skate, truly amazed by your talent. "Can you show me how to skate?" she asked shyly, head hanging low, slightly embarrassed as she had tried to impress you with something she couldn’t do and you were an expert in.

"I’d love to" you replied, "put one hand here and the other one there" you started your lesson.

With one arm gripping the wall, the other one made its way where you had showed her to put it. Then the other one did the exact same thing.

First step - letting go of the rink wall - check.

Second step

Your arms gripped her hips as you pushed her slowly over the ice, so she could get a feeling on it.

"How does that feel?" you asked, still holding onto her.

"Good"

"Now try to move your feet. First, you slide with one of them diagonally forward, like pushing yourself forwards, same goes with the other after that. Lean your weight slightly on the penguin"

"Alright"

She tried pushing, her weight on the penguin, but without any luck. If you weren’t holding her, she would’ve fallen to the ground.

"Gently, not with so much force" she huffed, trying it again. This time it worked a bit better but still wasn’t optimal as she came to a stop - her body on the ice.

"You‘re supposed to hold me" she complained.

"Baby, you pulled me with you, how am I supposed to hold you?"

"I don’t know!"

Pulling her back up, she clinged onto your body, no trust in the little penguin as it moved too much and fast.

"Do you want to go?"

"yes, please" she admitted bashfully, big eyes fearing your reaction.

"then let’s go" with your lover in yours arms, you skated to the exit, helping her to step out as you followed behind. Both of you took a seat on the bench, taking off your skates - Leah still with a scowl on her face. "What‘s the matter, my love?" you asked, stopping her in her movement as it was way too aggressive.

"I ruined our night" she grumbled, finally able to cross her arms without falling.

"Hey" cupping her cheeks, you turned her to face you, "no. no, you didn’t." Sad eyes looked at you, all Leah wanted to do was something special in your favorite time of the year (and impress you.)

"What about a hot chocolate and maybe crepes?" you suggested, caressing the wrinkle between her brows.

When Leah heard the word chocolate she was already convinced. The pout washed away, a wide smile making its way over her features, "I love you so much" she whispered, leaning towards you to lock your lips. Her kiss was gentle and soft, her hand resting on your thigh as the kiss lingered. She was so in love with you. More than anyone could ever imagine.

"I love you too" you smiled, leaning your forehead against hers as you soaked in the cold winter night, your lover keeping you warm.

"So about the hot chocolate…?"

"let’s go"

the blonde kissed you quickly in appreciation before she held out her hand for you to take. She grabbed the skates, yours and her own as she brought them back to the rental store.

"Do you want them with marshmallows, my girl?"

"No, whipped cream please"

She nodded, hurrying to the stand who sold warm drinks while you sat down at a table. With a wide grin, she came back, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands, "I asked her if she could add a smiley face on yours with chocolate sauce, look" placing the drink in front of you, a smiley face smiled at you in the whipped cream. Your features matched the one in your drink while you 'thank you' kissed Leah. Her eyes shone as she looked at you, you looked so beautiful. "My pretty girl" she admired while she took a seat beside you, wanting to be as close as possible.

"Cheers?" you lifted your cup, waiting for Leah to join you.

"Cheers"

Both of you took a sip, the drink melting on your tongues, not too hot and not too cold - just perfect.

The blonde beside you let out a laugh which caught your attention. "What?" you asked confused.

"You‘ve got there something, my girl" she chuckled, pointing to your face, the whipped cream had created a beard.

"Where?"

"Here, lemme just" the defender wiped it away with her thumb before she tasted it, "delicious" she giggled, still wiping away the last few bits, "all gone, baby"

"I don’t think it is" you said, taking the drink in your hands to apply more cream, this time perfectly on your lips, "try harder"

"my cheeky, cheeky girl"

Of course, the gunner immediately leaned forward, connecting your lips. Your body tingled at the heavenly sensation of her touch, mind blank as you could only focus on her lips on your own.

When air became a problem, she pulled back, grabbing your jaw with one hand, her touch gentle as she examined your lips, turning your head in every direction, so she could she them from each angle, "no, not finished yet" she grinned, interlocking your lips again.

For sure, Leah wasn‘t the best ice skater but her love for you was clear. Leah Williamson was head over heels for you and would try everything in her power to impress you each day. Sometimes it‘ll work and other times, like today, it won‘t but that‘s okay because she was Leah Williamson, England Captain, European Champion and you were her girl.

So in the end, it was indeed a special date night - she made the winter even more special to you.

Also, she wanted to watch you figure skate - the two of you would definitely come back here.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #lionesses #engwnt x reader #engwnt #lionesses x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #arsenal #gunner #awfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader

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mochinek0 · 11 months ago

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Daminette December 2023: 16-Pet Store

Marinette thanked the kwamis for giving her an advantages around animals. She had moved to Gotham and was working part time at a pet store. Her new apartment still didn't allow animals, but she could still play with them.

Marinette looked up from her desk as an owner and his dog walked up to the counter.

"This is Titus." the boy announced.

"I can take him from here." Mari spoke.

"I insist that I take him to the back." he stated, "You look new. Titus has specific taste."

Marinette rolled her eyes and grabbed the leash out of his hand.

"Come on, Titus." she smiled, "Think you can prove your owner wrong and go by yourself like a good boy?"

Marinette turned and Titus willingly walked along side her to the back. Neither saw Damian's shocked expression. Damian had trained Titus himself. He knew Titus wouldn't trust anyone so easily.

'Something is wrong here.'

When Damian returned, his anger only grew. The same girl had brought Titus back out for him. Titus stood towering over her and licked her cheek. She had smiled and reached behind the counter and handed him a sealed dog biscuit shaped like a bone.

"The ingredients are written down on the back." the girl declared.

Damian turned it over and sure enough there was a sticker on the back.

"The font is misleading." Damian spoke, "It appears to be handwritten."

"It is." Marinette replied, "I made them. I make all the treats."

Damian looked at it again and shoved the treat in his pocket.

"Titus. Come." He spoke.

Titus followed obediently.

'I'll just run analysis on this and see what kind of underground network she is apart of.'

Damian had found no hidden agenda through the biscuit. All ingredients were perfectly healthy for Titus or any dog. He had handed it over to Titus in disappointment. Titus ate it happily.

'Traitor, but I know who won't betray me.'

Oh how wrong he was. Marinette carried a happily purring Alfred the cat in her arms.

'I should bring Goliath. She'd likely be frightened. I would win and she would no longer have power over my pets. I could do that, but then Father would be upset. He already doesn't like Goliath and finds him to be dangerous. This would only further his thinking.'

"Cupcake!" a voice shouted from behind him.

"Uncle Jagged!" Marinette smiled, placing Alfred in his carrier.

Damian turned to see Jagged Stone and his famous pet crocodile walk in. He watched in surprise as she disregarded the reptile and hugged the Rockstar. After, she turned towards the croc. Damian was ready to pull her away, but the croc rolled over and she scratched his stomach as if it as a dog. He was speechless.

'Maybe bringing Goliath would be a mistake. I need to learn her secrets.'

Marinette looked at Damian as he handed over his resume.

"You don't need the money." She spoke, "So why?"

"I prefer animals to human company." He answered honestly.

Mari smiled, "I say anyone who doesn't is a liar."

Marinette turned away and took the resume to the back. Damian realized he had smirked when she left. He quickly brought him emotions under control.

"I don't think there would be a problem, but I'm sure my boss would want to cover her ass, if you somehow got hurt on the job." She declared, coming back.

"Explain." Damian insisted.

Marinette sighed, "Make sure that if you got injured, while on the job, that she isn't sued by a Wayne."

"I would be fine." he growled out.

"And your father?" she asked.

The Wayne heir sighed, "I think his only concern is that I don't bring more animals home." making her giggle.

'Did I pass?'

Damian was called back to the boss' office. He knew they wanted to know his angle; why he wanted to work there. His siblings ad gone through it before when they got jobs. Damian took out an envelope and slid it over the desk.

"Inside is a viable check worth $10,000." Damian stated, "Pair me with Marinette Dupain-Cheng as my mentor. If I am not paired with her, I'll report the check as fake."

The vet just looked at the signed check and nodded, absent-minded. As Damian went looking for Marinette, he heard the boss call out that they had a quick errand to run.

Damian observed how careful she was with the animals. There were times he thought she was trying to flirt, by acting clumsy, but he quickly learned that wasn't the case. Other workers would ask if she had fallen that day or if she needed a bandaid.

Marinette waved off the concern, "It'll just be another bruise. I probably wouldn't notice. I can't keep count."

If he caught her, she'd say thank you and continue ignoring him. Damian had learned from the other workers that Marinette fixated only on the animals. They invited her many times to hang out or even grab a bite to eat after work. Some offered to pay, but the answer was always no. They had later learned that in the past, Marinette's friends had backstabbed her. As a result, she was friendly at work, but once she was off the clock, she didn't give them a chance to get to know her.

"I would like for you to come to my home." Damian declared.

"No. Thank you." Marinette answered, getting ready to leave for the day.

"I have animals." he spoke.

"I've seen them." She replied, "Titus and Alfred, correct?"

"You haven't seen Jerry or Batcow." he remarked.

Marinette froze as she was tying her shoe.

"As in-" she began.

'Gotcha.'

Damian smirked, "Batcow is an actual cow and just so you are aware, Jerry is a turkey."

He could see her trying to figure out how to answer him. Ignore him or see animals she had never seen before.

"I'd like to see the cow." Marinette whispered, embarrassed, "This doesn't mean were friends, all of a sudden!"

"Of course not." Damian agreed, "Just colleges, who share a love of animals."

Marinette smiled as she walked out the door.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

#daminette december 2023 #daminette #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #titus the dog #alfred the cat #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #pet store #goliath #jerry the turkey #batcow #damian gets a job #damian stalks marinette #mochinek0

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tinandabin · 2 years ago

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Yandere hashiras x modern reader PART 2

Part 1

@mikoz-u I woke up and wrote this.

Having your tongue cut off wasn't pleasant, especially from your own creations. All because you happened to talk about their oh-so-sad past.

But will that stop you? No. So of course, you have to learn sign language now. And you did.

The hashiras were baby-ing you more ever since they had to 'punish you.' Really now? PUNISH? Babe, that's not a punishment, it's a crime.

Did they care? No.

Mitsuri would out of the random start blabbering apologies and start crying saying of how she was just soo sad.. She really didn't wanna hurt you! But it was for your own good. But she promises that she didn't wanna hurt you! :(

And our dear Sanemi couldn't just get enough of taunting you, saying that those were the consequences of your own action. Sometimes Obanai would join him.

He would all be like, "See? If you hadn't talked shit and acted like a brat, none of this would've happened." All the while you would be cursing him off in sign language.

All of them learnt sign language with you, which was one of the most convenient way to talk to you.

But did the all of you ever have a civil conversation? No.

You would still be taunting them in sign language, obviously.

"Sabito died because of you, Giyuu!"

"Genya is all alone and is probably dead, just because you couldn't stay in your own world, Sanemi!"

And more and more taunts at their past.

You've made them cry NUMEROUS times. But they never cried in front of you, though.

They were now contemplating cutting off your fingers.

They do regret cutting off your tongue, a bit. I mean, they can't hear your sweet voice now.. Even if it was always insulting them, still.

They just wish for you to behave like a good girl so that all of you can live in peace and harmony.

Is that too much to ask now? They've gone through so much all because of you, and now you refuse to be their place for solace and calm? Don't act so selfish, now.

All you have to do is sit there and behave. They will take care of everything else. You wouldn't even need to lift a finger.

"Ne, [Name]-Chan, please open your mouth!! This is extremely delicious," Mitsuri swooned, hovering some mochi near your mouth. You couldn't do anything but open your mouth, still remembering what happened the last time you didn't.

In the background, you could hear Obanai and Sanemi chuckle saying how their 'punishment' seemed to work.

Like a doll, you were dragged from one hashira to another. All of them saying, '"It's my turn now with [Name]!" Were you some kind of damn puppet? You would say that, but you can't. I mean, your hands are tied and you can't speak..

Muichiro dragging you with him outside to your backyard to cloud-gaze so that he can lay in your lap.

Uzui forcefully making you model different clothes he bought for you, some of them too revealing for your liking.

Kyojuro making you watch a movie with him, thinking of it as a date and all the while ignoring the fact that you were tied up.

Mitsuri styling your hair and squishing your cheeks, treating you like some kind of Teddy bear. Man, you feel like biting her hand if she touches your hair once again.

Gyomei is the most tolerable, since all he wants to do is simply be in your presence.

And then comes Shinobu The Witch. She is probably secretly researching how to make a 'love potion.' If given the right materials, then man you are doomed. I feel like she would enjoy gardening with you. To her, it feels intimate.

All Giyuu wants to do is hold your hand and cuddle you. Anywhere. He doesn't care who is watching and where you are. Probably the neediest and clingy.

Sanemi would also likely make you watch him cook. Look, you can't tell me he isn't a good cook. I refuse to believe such bullshit. The food he makes is bomb, but of course, you would never admit it to his face.

Last but not least is Obanai. He is too shy to ask for your attention so he would most likely be stalking you doing different activities with everybody in the shadows.

You are just some doll for all of them. A real, breathing doll.

Masterlist

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astroboots · 1 year ago

Text

Every You Every Me #8

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You embark upon 'a Cosmic Masterplan to survive' - Phase one

Word count: 6,600

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Ten days have passed since your home was blown to a million pieces.

Ten days since you found out that there are multiple universes.

Ten days since you learned that your universe—the world as you know it—has less than three months left before it implodes unless you can somehow find a way to save it… and yourself.

Despite the fantastical nature of those events, you find yourself returning back to your everyday life, just as mundane and ordinary as ever, cosmic murder attempts notwithstanding.

The helicopter crash was featured across the front page of The Times by morning, and apparently no one was hurt. The pilot had somehow been flung from the helicopter into a nearby window and miraculously survived without even a scratch. The only real casualty was your every worldly possession.

After a personal calamity of that scale, you’d hoped you might be offered an extended leave from work. Unfortunately, corporate America stops for no tragedy.

The only thing you're offered is a very sympathetic email the day after with a gift voucher for Dominos attached. Then Sally from HR had let you know that, given the severity of your situation, the company was generously granting you three whole personal days to sort out your affairs. After that you were requested to return to the office—the second quarter of the financial year was beginning soon after all.

And so you find yourself back at work.

Back to 8+ hours a day spent sitting in your rickety office chair, killing your eyesight in front of your computer screen as you pore over excel sheets. Back to the same old boring one-on-one meetings with your boss, who keeps harping on about Key Performance Indicators, as if they mean anything. You don’t understand what the point is. No matter how key your performance is, it never seems to be enough to net you a raise.

“Our total revenue increased by 15% compared to last year, which is a significant achievement considering the challenges in the market, but I know we can do better if we just–”

You stifle a yawn, as you readjust yourself in your chair. It’s Monday morning, and you find yourself in one of the stale meeting rooms, with staler treats that you’re not even allowed to have because they are for external clients only. Your boss is right next to you, droning on and on about how she wants to see better results in the next fiscal quarter. All the while you’re trying to fight the losing odds of keeping your eyes open and the temptation of gravity that wants your head to lay down on the conference table for an impromptu nap.

“We managed to improve our profit margin by 3% by reducing overhead costs, but we need to focus on further optimizing our operations in order to–”

Out of nowhere, the sound of her shrill nasal voice stops, and for a second you think that perhaps, sweet mercies of mercies, the meeting is finally over. But instead she points out the window and says the last thing you expect.

“Hey, isn’t that Spiderman?”

Huh?

You whip your head around to stare out the window so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash, and the sight that greets you is nearly enough to give you a heart attack on the spot.

Oh, it’s Spiderman alright. Your Spiderman.

Your maybe-vampire-but-maybe-not (he hasn’t combusted in sunlight yet, but then again he wears a full-body spandex suit) Spiderman.

Your Spiderman is right there in front of you in plain sight on the outside of the building, plastered to the wide wall-to-wall meeting room window. That dark blue super suit with the angry red spider emblazoned on his chest like a neon sign screaming: ‘Here I am!’

Your boss skips closer to the window in giddy excitement, until the two of them are only about a feet away from each other separated by a half an inch of glass.

“Look, his suit is different! I wonder if it’s an upgrade?” she exclaims, tilting her head to study him from the window. “He sure is a lot bigger in person, isn’t he?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, and the whole of your back breaks out in cold clammy sweat against your blouse. Doing your best to act normal, you force yourself to stay seated in your chair despite the shrill scream ringing in your head and the way your heart is threatening to leap right out of your throat.

What the hell does he think he’s doing!?

Thank fuck your boss still has her back to you, too enthralled by the unexpected superhero sighting to pay attention to anything else. You take advantage of her distraction to gesture frantically at Miguel, waving him away with as covert of a shooing motion as you can manage and praying that he’ll take the hint.

You know he sees you because the triangular outlines of his eyes narrow into annoyed slits and then he turns his face away as if offended, refusing to look at you. But at least he finally moves, leaping into the air and disappearing out of the sight of the window.

“Oh, shoot! There he goes again,” your boss says, letting out a long, loud sigh as if even she doesn’t want to go back to listening to her own voice for the rest of this meeting. “Well, back to work. Guess that was the excitement for the day.”

Scratch what you were saying before. There are no more completely mundane days. Not now that Miguel O’Hara has entered your life.

Once upon a time, your biggest dilemma with him was that he was avoiding you, refusing all your attempts to force a face-to-face meeting. Now you find yourself in the strange position of having the opposite problem.

True to his promise, Miguel is always there to protect you.

In fact, he’s just plain always there.

Never more than 10 feet away, regardless of where you go. He’s the last thing you see… or rather, hear before you go to sleep, his incessant snoring reverberating off the walls of your shared hotel room. Then, when you wake, it’s to his big 6’9” frame draped across the tiny velvet sofa, his long legs sticking off the end and hanging out into the room.

Miguel hovers over you when you eat, in case you get another piece of toast stuck in your throat and he needs to do the Heimlich maneuver on you again. Or, like that one time last week, in case you developed another hitherto completely undiscovered food allergy and have to be rushed to the ER. He is constantly on alert, eyes glued to you at all times.

Miguel comes with you when you go grocery shopping at the corner bodega. Sticking close to your back in the cramped aisles, lest one of the shelves fall over and bury you under crates of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops… again. He has a sneaky habit of covertly dropping the most nutritiously questionable grocery items in your basket: jellied donuts, sugar-frosted pop tarts, fun dip and jolly ranchers. He eats like a five year old who has too much pocket money and no understanding of the food pyramid. It’s worrying to watch and you definitely google diabetes risk for spiders at least once, but the internet has nothing helpful to offer on that front.

Even when you’re relaxing in the luxury hotel suite that’s become your home, flipping through Tik Tok-edits on your iPhone (the newest model, which Lyla snagged for you!) or catching up on Netflix, Miguel is always right there. Not two steps away from you, looking over your shoulder.

Being the constant center of Miguel's attention is… disconcerting. You know it’s because he’s watching for the next random disaster to strike, but having his eyes on you nonstop leaves you feeling uncomfortably aware of him all the time. Especially when you’re trying to watch Bridgerton on your new macbook pro (also courtesy Lyla) and an R-rated scene comes on. You’ve resorted to having Lyla order books and magazines for him in an attempt to keep him occupied, but it doesn’t seem to make much difference.

It’s so bad that you can barely go to the bathroom without Miguel guarding the door like a zealous German Shepherd, his back plastered to the nearest wall when you emerge. You try not to let the lack of privacy bother you… or to think about the fact that his spidey-supersenses probably let him hear everything.

The only place Miguel doesn’t come with you is when you go to work, because he doesn’t have the clearance needed to get into the building—tourists and non-personnel aren’t allowed any further than the lobby. It doesn’t stop him from climbing the walls of the building and hanging around outside the 44th floor though. You know he’s there because, you see his shadow blurring at the window whenever you get up to get more coffee or unstick the paper jammed in the printer.

It’s an adjustment, but for all the madness that comes with the package, having Miguel around does make you feel safe.

Time always seems to pass too quickly when there’s a deadline approaching.

The problem is that right now the due it’s not the date of a school assignment or some work project that you’re worrying about. And if you take too long, the consequences will be much worse than a lower grade or a slap on the wrist. If you fail to meet this deadline, it will be the end of the world—not just as you know it, but for everyone in your entire universe.

A week ago you had been dauntless, facing Miguel down across the table at Starbucks and announcing that you intended to fight cosmically impossible odds in order to live. Bold even, when you’d confidently declared that the only thing you needed was three months and his protection from the universe's murder attempts to make that happen.

In retrospect, you might have been less dauntless and more… delusional, because so far the only real progress you've made is drawing up a Master Plan, complete with a bullet point list and no idea if any of it is actually going to accomplish anything.

'A Cosmic Masterplan to survive' - Phase one

Step 1: Personal history:

Identify past wrongdoings

Determine if they could explain cosmic retaliation

Step 2: Analyze incident patterns:

Study recurring near death incidents

Identify commonalities and patterns

Determine strategies to stop or prevent future occurrences

Step 3: Research genealogy:

Explore family history

Investigate any ancestors who may have incurred celestial grudges

Determine if these grudges extend to descendants

Step 4: Examine past life wrongdoings:

Establish if reincarnation is real

Investigate potential past life transgressions

Assess if they correlate with current cosmic retaliation

Step 5: Seek cosmic expert assistance:

Consider approaching Dr. Strange for guidance

Request expertise in understanding cosmic phenomena

Things had started out okay.

You completed Step 1 in less than a day, quickly compiling a list of all the people you’d wronged in your lifetime. Anything that might make the universe want to intervene on their behalf and dole out some karma against you.

So far, your life's most egregious crimes include:

That time when you wet the bed during a sleepover when you were six and blamed it on your friend Sally Jenkins.

The night you bailed out in the middle of a date with a dentist from Tinder who insisted on ordering for you and kept talking about Alpha and Betas. (It was only after a very confusing and awkward conversation that you realized he was not talking about the omegaverse). You’re pretty sure you did both of you a favor when you told him you were going to use the bathroom before dessert and took off without saying goodbye instead.

That summer you brought only chocolate with coconut back to share with your coworkers after your vacation in Canada so that Matt in accounting (who always steals your yogurt out of the office fridge) couldn’t have any because he's allergic to coconut.

Are those the actions of a good person? Probably not.

Are they petty? Oh yeah.

Are they bad enough to justify karmic retaliation from the universe in the form of death? You doubt it.

As for Step 2, despite all the near death experiences you've had recently, there doesn’t seem to be any discernible pattern that could help you predict or prevent future incidents. After all it’s a bit difficult to predict that an impromptu mounted police parade would take place near your office, only for there to be a wild stampede of panicky horses that tried to mow you over.

Step 3 of your plan? Another dud.

Your family line is made up of uncles working blue-collar jobs at warehouses, aunties who pester you about being single, one grandfather who likes to talk about how things were better in the old days and a grandmother who likes to complain that you never call every time you call her (and another grandma you actually like because she feeds you sweets and cakes when you go visit).

There are no skeletons hidden in your family closet. Nothing interesting at all except maybe that one cousin who claims to have hooked up with Leonardo Di Caprio at Coachella (unverifiable and unlikely).

Your mission to try to figure out if all of this is caused by any past life connections in Step 4?

It had seemed like a reasonable thing to look into, but how the heck do you go about doing that? You’ve put it on hold for now.

As for the final step? Your search to seek out cosmic expert assistance is still ongoing.

Contacting another Supe that has a magical expertise in the cosmic should be the most logical avenue. Doctor Strange is the superhero that famously deals with the magical cosmos stuff, so you figured maybe he could help in some way. That it wouldn't be hard for Miguel to reach out to him, one superhero to another.

It’s the one part of your plan you could actually take action on that seems like it might lead somewhere. Problem is, you've run into a big sassy roadblock named Miguel O'Hara.

Miguel flatly refuses to have anything to do with Dr. Strange.

His justification?

"Hate that guy."

Repeatedly pestering him has gotten you nowhere, and it’s not like you, a random normie, can just rock up outside of Dr. Strange’s residence and ask for help because the universe is out to get you. That’s a good way to get yourself hauled away, like that guy from Colorado who was in the news last year for faking a UFO invasion with cheap props on YouTube and then camping out outside of Bruce Banner’s lab. Idiots like that show up from time to time, Superhero fanatics seeking the attention of the Avengers for some fake emergency.

Worst comes to worst, you could probably just stand outside Doctor Strange’s house until something tries to kill you again and hope that he’ll notice, but you’re not sure the universe won’t thwart you on purpose. Probably not the best use of your limited time, especially since you’re out of PTO.

For now, you’re hoping to change Miguel’s mind through sheer persistence, but given how stubborn the man is, that might be more of a lost cause than trying to thwart the universe itself.

It’s payday today, and you’ve decided to take Miguel to dinner in Chinatown as thanks for the man’s continuous efforts in saving your life.

As touristy as that area can be, there are some good, cheap diners owned by grumpy Cantonese families that serve large enough portions to feed this horse of a man.

It’s not entirely selfless. You’re tired of being cooped up in the hotel room as soon as you get off work, and you want to stretch your legs. You’re also hoping that stuffing Miguel full of food will make him more receptive to the next round of your arguments in favor of Step 5 of your Cosmic Masterplan.

But you’ve been here for two hours now, and you’re not sure Miguel knows the meaning of the word full.

He’s ordered egg tarts by the dozen. Crispy fried seafood noodles drenched in sweet cornstarch slurry. Deep fried turnip cakes soaked in sweet soy sauce. Beef Ho Fun. Every other dish is deep fried and slathered in XO sauce, and you are starting to be genuinely concerned about his cardiovascular health as you watch him shovel it down his maw, barely pausing to chew as he goes.

At least he looks happy while eating? Endearingly so. It’s the only time you’ve seen him relaxed and finally drop his guard a little bit, though you’re sure he’s still aware of every minute detail in his surroundings. You decide it’s better not to say anything since scolding him about being a glutton would be like the pot name calling the kettle. Your wolfish food habits is a shared hobby you have with Miguel at this point.

“What’s wrong with the egg tarts?” you ask, eyeing the plate that lies still untouched on the table, the only food to have escaped Miguel’s massacre. Given how sweet they are, you would have expected him to inhale them within seconds.

“I ordered them for you,” he says, not slowing down as he spears more food onto his plate. “Your favorite, right?”

You nod slowly and reach for one, touched by the gesture but not sure what to say.

There’s a fleck of sauce smudged on his cheek, a stray rice grain on his nose. He looks like any other civilian as he scarfs down the food in quick succession.

Out of his super suit, he looks different. He’s partial to oversized clothes that makes him look oddly gangly even with his build. You’ve caught him with glasses on more than once, even though you’re pretty sure he’s mentioned that supersight is one of the things he’s gifted with. You can’t help but wonder if he wears them out of a sense of habit or if it’s a conscious fashion choice. Probably the former, given what you’ve seen him wear so far—fashion doesn’t seem to be one of his fortes. All in all, it makes him look like a much homelier person with a slightly nerdy vibe than the handsome superhero when he’s on the job.

He’s softer without the supersuit. Still scowling, but it’s less intimidating when he’s doing it wearing a big hoodie with dumb logos printed across his chest.

It’s still odd seeing Rude Spiderman in these domestic settings, but you think you prefer him like this.

“How’s your plan coming along?” he asks, mouth full of fried rice as he’s already reaching for a piece of char siu.

Of course, he has to ask you a question just as you bite into sweet and creamy egg custard.

“I’m kind of stuck,” you admit, the words muffled slightly by the pastry in your mouth. “I think we need to talk about reaching out to Dr. Strange.”

“No.” He doesn’t even bother to stop eating, still chewing with a gusto as the word emerges.

Nothing more than that. No reasons or explanation given, just ‘No.’

Irritation brews in your chest at his unhelpfulness. He’s throwing a monkey wrench into your cosmic survival masterplan, and he won’t even tell you why.

Too busy stuffing his face with crispy wontons.

“But why? He’s the only Avenger with an expertise in cosmic magic!”

“Expertise, my ass,” he retorts.

“Why do you hate him so much?” You slide the plate of roasted duck across the table, away from him, and that finally makes him pay proper attention.

Miguel is doing that scowling thing again, first at you and then dropping his gaze to glaring down at his rice and chopstick like he’s about to stab it.

“Because he’s an idiot. “Doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. Gives terrible advice.”

“He was one of the world’s leading brain surgeons,” you huff. “I don’t think he’s an idiot, Miguel.”

Miguel leans over the table, sliding the plate back closer to where he’s seated.

“Being handy with a scalpel isn’t a transferable skill to the supernatural. And he wears a cape. Only idiots wear capes.”

“Wait, what? You don’t like him because he wears a cape!?” you spit out incredulously. You don’t understand this man’s logic sometimes.

“Capes are impractical. Get snagged everywhere. No superhero worth the name would wear one,” he explain as if this alone perfectly justifies hating someone. He stabs a piece of meat with his chopstick and brings it to his mouth. “I will never ask that man for help again.”

Then he inhales the rest of the plate of roasted duck.

You leave the restaurant frustrated.

Miguel’s stubbornness remains as immovable as stone, and this big red and blue boulder has left you stuck at a dead end roadblock in the middle of a street, one you don’t know how to get around. He won't agree to talk to Strange, and you don’t know what else to do.

You need divine inspiration, or failing that maybe just… a hint. Something to tell you what direction to go in. Some kind of a sign.

Deep in thought, you turn round a corner, barely noticing how the alley narrows as you keep walking forward. It’s not until a pile of crates in front blocks your path, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks that you lift your head to survey your surroundings.

You and Miguel are at a small alley that you don’t recognize, which is weird because you know this area like the back of your hand. Somewhere along the way you must’ve taken a wrong turn.

Just ahead of you, there's a red stall set up on the sidewalk surrounding a small rickety table with red cloth draped over it, a couple of folding chairs set up in front.

Above it is… a giant sign. Fortune Teller, it says.

Not quite the metaphorical sign you were asking for a few minutes ago, but maybe the universe has given up on subtlety for today. Hey, at least it’s not trying to kill you… unless fortune teller assassins are a thing. Shit, is the universe resorting to baiting traps now? You really hope it doesn’t start setting out poisoned cookies on window sills, because then it will be game over for you and Miguel both.

You look the stall over, noticing that there are no crystal balls. No tarot cards. No trinkets or ancient scrolls like the ones you see in the movies.

There’s just an old lady. Her head is cleanly shaven, shining slick under the sole street lamp in the alley. She’s wearing a thick robe with a blue shawl draped over her shoulders that seems much too warm for the current weather, and cheap oversized sunglasses perch on her small nose despite it being evening. That outfit is certainly a choice.

Maybe you should be more cautious, but what harm can it do at this point?

The fortune teller certainly looks harmless and frail with her big round cheeks, sitting on a small stool. Even though she looks nothing like her, she makes you think of your grandmother—the one you actually like to call. The grandma who always has cookies stashed away for you when you come to visit.

Maybe she can give you a reading of who you were in your past life.

Maybe she can give you a protection amulet to make the universe chill the fuck out for a while.

Maybe she can burn some incense that will make you relax and get rid of the migraine you've gotten since the universe decided to murder you.

"Miguel." You tug at the lapel of his jacket, and point in the direction of the sign.

He turns around, scanning the space and then his eyes narrow disapprovingly.

"Fortune… teller,” Miguel reads off the sign in a slow skeptic drawl. He doesn't need to say more to express his complete and utter disdain, but that doesn’t stop him.

"You know it's all a scam right? People like this can't actually tell the future. They have no supernatural powers. What they do is cold reading."

It’s entirely unsurprising Miguel doesn't like the idea. There are a lot of things Miguel doesn’t like.

"What else do you propose we do?"

"Ask someone with actual skills who can help us?"

"You were the one who shot down the idea of asking Doctor Strange for help," you remind him.

"I don’t want his help," Miguel shoots back, grimacing as though the mere mention of the name is enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"Yeah, so you keep telling me." You continue on to the stall, despite your companion's strong protests.

The sweet old lady greets you as you sit down at the table. She looks even weirder from up close, her bald head abnormally large for her small body. You try not to stare, not wanting to make her self-conscious, but you can’t help but wonder how gravity keeps her head upright.

“Fifty dollars,” she announces the moment you take a seat.

Fifty bucks to get your fortune read!? Talk about highway robbery! You could get seven overpriced Spiderman cookies for that.

“That’s too much.” You shake your head, rising from your seat.

“Okay, okay. I can do cheaper,” the woman immediately concedes, looking nervous at your sudden outburst, and you have to bite back a smile.

That was easy.

“How much cheaper?” you ask. You know how this game is played.

“Twenty?”

If she’s willing to drop the price from fifty to twenty that easily, you can definitely get her to go lower.

“Ten.” You cross your arms where you stand, making no move to sit down.

“Are you really haggling over this? You were the one who wanted to do this, and now you’re going to cheap out over ten bucks!?” Miguel says from behind you, but you ignore him. It’s enough to have him there looming over the lady as you stare her down, taking a note out of his intimidation tactic book.

“Some of us aren’t made out of money, Miguel–”

“Fine! Ten, I’ll do it for ten,” the lady says over the top of your arguing.

She’s skittish in the sudden silence that follows, looking over her shoulder to her left and right, as if she’s checking if your loud outbursts have attracted any attention.

Seemingly reassured that there’s only the three of you here, she gestures for you to sit back down and then tilts her head towards you.

From behind her sunglasses, you can see that her eyes are clouded white from glaucoma, but when she raises her gaze to give Miguel an appraising look from head to toe, it’s obvious that she’s still able to see.

“Your husband is tall.”

You see Miguel go rigid out the corner of your eye and chance a quick glance up at him. His sour expression hasn’t changed but you can tell he’s uncomfortable from the way his fingers are gripping the fabric of his hoodie where the chain holding his ring is hiding underneath the layers of clothing.

"Can you do a past life reading?" you ask instead, trying to steer the conversation away from anything that might inflict further painful reminders upon him. "I want to know if I could have attracted bad karma in my past lives."

“No such thing,” she says bluntly, shaking her head, "You have no past life. Reincarnation is not real."

That’s step 4 taken care of, you think to yourself, and you think you hear Miguel choke back a laugh behind you. You’re not thrilled that he’s having fun at your expense, but at least he’s not sad anymore.

"Uh… okay…" You try to think of what else was on your list. "Then can I buy a protection amulet or something? I've had really bad luck lately."

The old granny looks you over appraisingly, eyes traveling from the top of your head as far down as she can see before the table top gets in the way, and her benign and friendly smile fades as she does.

"No," she says, eyes wrinkling with worry. "An amulet is of no use to you. Just a waste of money."

Oh wow, grandma is really dissing you right now.

She gestures her hand in a come hither motion to get you to lean down, and then pulls out a paper and pen and starts to draw an uneven circle with thick, crude lines.

"See here?" she says as she loops the circle closed, "This is all of us, our world"

Miguel is suddenly right next to you, hunching down and bent over the small table. You don’t know when he managed to sneak up on you, but he’s right there, so close his shoulder is brushing up against yours.

The fortune teller moves her pen inside the circle to draw a much smaller one, then a forked line sticking out of it, and another line across the center of that one. It’s so crudely drawn it takes you a second to realize it’s a stick figure.

"This is you," she points at it with a pen, seeming to admire her own creation.

Next to you, Miguel is staring down at the childish drawing with his hands crossed against his chest in irritation, his right eyelid is twitching. He looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

Even though he’s not saying a word, you swear you can almost hear his inner monologue, protesting the lady’s poor handmanship and drawing skills. He doesn’t need to say it but even $10 is too much of a price to pay, even for a man with infinity dollars.

Seemingly oblivious to Miguel’s irritation, the fortune teller proceeds to draw angry darts from inside the circle aimed at the poor you stick figure. Pressing so hard with her pen that the ink bleeds into the paper and the darts are starting to look like daggers. You almost wince when you see a couple of them pierce through your stick figure. “Outside interference has brought bad luck to you. It will never go away; it will follow you forever.”

You peer down at the paper with a sense of unease. Aren’t scam fortune tellers supposed to tell you what you want to hear? Where are the reassuring lies? Shouldn’t she be telling you that you’re going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger? Or that you were a princess in a past life? Since when do they tell you that you’re doomed to die over and over?

“So what am I supposed to do?” you ask.

“Keep moving,” she says with an unfaltering smile as if she hasn’t given you the most grim fortune telling of all time.

You lean back in your seat deflated. Scam or not, the prognosis isn’t looking good for you right now.

The lady ducks under her desk, and is sorting through a pile of junk paper, before she pops back up again. She shoves something into your hands, and leans over to you with a piercing gaze in her milky-white eyes. “The man who will help you lives here.”

Hope sparks bright in your chest at her words. Finally, a lead! Someone who can help you! You can’t believe your random decision to stop has given you the first clue that might actually lead somewhere!

You look down at what she’s given you. It's a pamphlet map of New York. Yellow and bright, the title reads: ‘Star Maps of Celebrity Homes.’ One of those cheap plastic ones they hand out with the tour buses.

The hope that had been building in your chest deflates, popping like a cheap balloon.

You make yourself scan the tacky star map for any clues as to who she means, but you you don’t see anything to lift you out of your disappointment. As much as you love Robert De Niro and Whoopi Goldberg and would love to get their autographs, you don’t think any of the people on this map are in any position to help you.

You sigh.

Ok, maybe Miguel was right. The fortune teller was a bust. What a waste of money.

From behind you, you can already hear the rustle of movement from him, as he’s stepping away.

“Come on, Cielito,” he says as he nods his head in the direction towards the exit of the alley.

The fortune teller grabs your hands in hers, as she leans in closer to your ear and whispers, as if trying to be out of earshot of Miguel. “Be careful with that one. He’s not from around here.”

Back at the hotel, you plop down on the ridiculously wide and fluffy bed, but not even the luxury of your surroundings can lift your spirits. You’re still uncomfortably full from dinner. The overload of delicious egg tarts sit like lead in your stomach, weighing you down.

Wasn’t there a Swedish king at some point who ate too many sweet buns and died of a burst stomach? Wouldn’t it be ironic if, after all the calamity and disasters you’ve escaped, your gluttony was the thing that ended you? You don’t think anyone who knows you would be surprised to read ‘died from eating too many egg tarts’ in your obituary. It’s perfect. A stupid and meaningless death to match your stupid and meaningless life.

From the corner of your eye, you see Miguel drag off his hoodie over his head. You squint your eyes, pretending not to look as the tan skin of his firm muscled back is revealed to you before he pulls on a tight-fitting white t-shirt that pulls taut against his chest.

The free peep show usually makes excitement and heat thrill through your spine, but tonight it does nothing. You feel… oddly numb.

The lights go off with a gentle click, and then you are left by yourself in darkness with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

You don’t know what to do. The fortune teller had been as stupid and pointless as every other idea you’ve had.

You grit your teeth, sighing as you turn restlessly onto your side in the bed, stretching out your leg to make yourself more comfortable, hoping sleep will claim you so that you can stop these thoughts from running on a constant loop on your brain like the world’s shittiest radio channel.

God, you can’t believe you spent $10 dollars on that fortune teller, and got nothing to show for it except a crappy map meant for gullible tourists.

What are you going to do if you’re too stupid to think of any other ideas? Your skin crawls at the thought, a tangle of worry sitting in the pit of your stomach, climbing upwards and trying to burst out of your chest. You roll over, but it only seems to get worse.

Are you just going to wait out your time like a sitting duck?

You twist your body, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts won’t stop.

Are you just going to sit here doing nothing?

Are you going to di–

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeech.

The loud noise startles you, and you freeze, suddenly aware of just how vulnerable you are with only the sheets and comforter for protection.

Oh god, what is trying to kill you this time?

Your eyes are wide open with a strain, staring off into the darkness like a deer in the headlights as you listen to the sound of something sharp scraping against the wooden floor.

It’s coming closer.

Fuck. Is it an assassin? Some kind of otherworldly monster that’s come to drag you to hell with it?

And where is Miguel? Why isn’t he stopping it!?

Maybe he’s gone, a cruel voice whispers in your head. Maybe he’s had enough. Maybe he sees what you don’t want to—the futility of what you’re trying to do. Running around like a headless chicken trying to find a way out of the grand cosmic slaughterhouse that is set on ending your life. Maybe he’s given up on you.

Maybe you need to give up too.

You’re too scared to risk making noise, but you can’t not do anything. You turn as soundlessly as you can in bed, rolling towards Miguel—hoping with all your might that he’ll still be there to save you—only to be greeted by the sight of his back closer than you expect, hunched over the lounge chair as he drags it towards the bed, the metal legs scraping against the floor, making the very sound that had just scared you half to death.

You dart upright in the bed, outraged.

“What are you doing!?”

Miguel looks back at you, then down at the chair he’s moving, and then back up at you with that blank expression on his face.

“Moving this?” He sits down on the lounge chair that’s now next to your bed, “I heard you tossing and turning. Thought you couldn’t sleep.”

There’s a pause as he peers at you in the darkness, then he rubs his hand at the back of his neck.

“Shit, did the noise scare you? Sorry, Cielito.”

There’s that nickname again. You don’t remember when it started or where it came from, but it’s something he’s been calling you more and more often. He’s wearing a wrinkly oversized t-shirt and a sheepish expression as he’s eyeing you, making sure you’re okay. It’s almost, nearly endearing.

“Why do you keep calling me Cielito?” you ask. “Is that what you used to call other me?”

“No, I didn’t call her that.” He shakes his head, the same aching longing in his eyes that’s always there at the mention of your other self. “I called her Nena.”

“Then why Cielito?”

He tilts his head down at you as if the answer is obvious, and then he breaks out into a small smile. “Because you keep falling through the sky.”

You stare at him in silence for a second, at the goofy looking grin he’s wearing. He looks so proud of himself and his silly dad joke that you can’t help but smile back, laughter bubbling up and out of your chest. His smile just gets bigger.

What a dork.

You lay back down in bed, still tittering with laughter, and there’s a comforting weight that rests on top of your head for a brief moment. It’s his hand. The touch is pleasant, his palm warm against your skin, and the comfort of it erases the last trace of residual alarm in your body.

“Just go to sleep already." The words are impatient, but his voice is gentle, and it makes your chest warm as he continues, “It’s okay. You don't have to worry. I won't let anything happen to you.”

He hasn’t given up on you.

His words drip through your insides and warms you from inside out. It’s comforting, the way a blanket feels wrapped around you in the winter when your heating is out. He sounds so confident when he says them. Like there’s no doubt in his mind that you’ll survive this, because he will personally see to it. The anxious chatter in your mind finally quiets, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s only an arm’s length away.

Somehow, with Miguel here, the impossible odds you’re up against don’t seem quite so impossible, and hope buzzes pleasantly in your chest as you drift off to sleep. It's the best sleep you've had in a long time.

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedication: Love a thousand and million years for @thirstworldproblemss who had to finely comb over and beta-read and edit this chapter over and over and rubber duck i with me while I was fixing up the details. I hope that I get to write with her til I go old and grey and senile, because it is the most wonderful joy and experience and I love her so.

This chapter is also dedicated to the wonderful and talented @forwantofwill who was endlessly kind in doing this amazing, beautiful piece of art of Miguel eating cookies in the windowsill Thank you so so much for making this and gifting me not just with your immense talent but also your time!

For those of you who haven't yet please follow her! She's amazingly talented and have such a wonderful blog filled with gorgeous and amazing fanart!

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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1-danid · 1 year ago

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Dating Teen Vi

Dating Arc 1 Vi would include..

Vander loving you as another kid. You may have your own patents but he still sees you as one of his children. Meaning he gives Vi the talk instead of you because he feels she'll need it more.

Teen Vi is 100% shy when it comes to PDA. She will hold your hand in public but that's about it. On the rare occasion when she's a bit jealous she may give your check or lip a kiss but it's rare.

When it's just the two of you or 3 of you powder can see her soft side. She'd go all out and be attacking your face with kisses and love.

At this stage you guys wouldn't know your love language so expect a bit of everything at this stage as you're trying it all out for the first time.

I don't think she can cook, no one in that band can. So often you'd cook meals for the group and bake treats for her and Powder.

If you go on the "jobs" with the group, Vi would be protective of you. Yeah she knows you can kickass but she doesn't want to lose you or to get you hurt.

Also Mylo would be annoying cause she'd stop for a sec to admire your beauty and he'd be like

" I could do better than that. She's just showing off at this point."

You'd flip him off whilst flipping to another building. And when you get to wherever you are going to rob she'd let you take personal things for yourself and not to sell. Honestly she wouldn't care what you do she'd just watch you for a minute with a love sick smile on her face.

The others would 100% tease her about it. And she's blushing a bit and playing it off. They'd believe for the first few times until it becomes a daily routine.

She'd get you little gifts when you don't do jobs together and surprise you with them

If you don't go on jobs with the group you'd originally babysit Powder. Keeping her distracted and happy while the others are out risking your lives.

You weren't a fighter so you never asked to go to jobs. However you did learn how to treat basic ailments to help Vi and Claggor when they got badly hurt.

Vi would 100% get you little gifts from the jobs she does without you surprising you with them. She'd be like;

"We were out at this one house, and I saw something. It reminded me so much of you. It was perfect and beautiful so I thought you should have it."

And then she'll give you a beautiful necklace. Or something romantic that you appreciate because of your relationship.

You'd bake her cupcakes whenever she's had a hard day and you think she needs to relax. The two of you will just cuddle as you sing a soft song to her. For example, falling for you by peachy!

Because you're always baking her sweet stuff and 'cause she loves your cake and cups she calls you…

CUPCAKE

I'm not sorry for that. But on the note of pet name's teen Vi will call you anything to see you flustered.

She just loves you so much and you love her too

She’s definitely the big spoon and powder loves you more than vi (you didn’t hear that from me)

Like she see Vi as her hero but she sees how Vi looks at you and see you as Vi hero

You’re literally the coolest kid in Vander’s house

Plus you can work the bar, you have a lot of free time, so you’re able to earn a little for shifts at the bar

When Vi leaves powder behind you’d both have a big cussing 100%

Like you know how scared and confused Powder is and refuse to go and help because Powder needs support as well

Powder (bless her) would 100% influence you and beg you to bring her to the fight

One look at her puppy dog eyes, and you would cave and bring her in once she promises to stay hidden

You’d bring her and miss all the signs and when the bomb goes off, you’re their trying to protect her

Vi slaps (I refuse to write the p word) both you and her sister

Cue another heated argument you’d slap her back and cuss her out for touching you and Powder

And you’d break up.

So pissed you tell her to “fucking go to hell Violet.”

And she pretty much does, you’d try your best to comfort powder

Trying to stay strong for her, yet you’d let a few tears fall at your newly broken heart, your loss of home and your loss of your friends

You don’t notice Silco and when you do you don’t trust him fully.

But you know you and Powder need a place to stay so when he accepts Powder’s hug, you lower your guard

Moreso when you see a familiar face, passed out Sevika eases your nerves

You never do find out what happened at the warehouse, but you do know you lost everyone except Powder

You wonder if you’d ever see Vi again as you take on the older sister responsibilities for Powder’s sake

A/N

I hope you enjoyed this. I feel its better than the version i posted last time. To old moots this is not a goodbye. THIS IS A REVAMP!!

TIL NEXT TIME MY LOVES

-Dani

#‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ dani writes ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿#vi league of legends #vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x fem reader #arcane x female reader #vi masterlist

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 11 months ago

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Part 14- taking these wounds to their grave

"I'm battered and broken, my spirit's been stolen, but I'm taking these wounds to their grave. Surrounded by allies with fire in their eyes, for the past I don't need to deny." -Relentless by The Nearly Deads

Masterlist Part 13

In all honesty, learning his girlfriend was a Queen Regent for a different realm wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to him. Sure, being told that ‘hey, by the way, we forced this substance that tastes like pop-rocks and sprite down your throat to save you from dying again’ was on that list too, but Jason had fucking died. His death was brutal, no doubt, but the weirdest part was the fact that he had been a Revenant the moment he awoke in his coffin.

A vengeful spirit unable to move on.

Forced to wander the earth until their reason for clinging to the mortal realm is satisfied.

It hurt his heart in a phantom reminder of what he had suffered the same day Joker had been brutally murdered, the pain off what had been his second death due to his ‘reason’ being satisfied.

(It hurt more to realize that he had never needed Bruce to kill Joker.)

(It had all been for nothing.)

Jazz was quiet where she was tucked up against him in the large medical bed the Yeti had treated him in, not yet asleep by her breathing but calmly existing with him in this space.

It was everything he needed.

Jazz was truly the other half of his soul, the one he was meant to find.

(She avenged him.)

(She saved him.)

He would marry Jasmine Nightingale aka the Regent of the Realms aka Lady of the Acropolis, he would be her staunchest supporter as the world keeps turning around them. What else is he meant to do in the face of her overwhelming love for him?

(She avenged him.)

(She saved him.)

They still had more to discuss and Jason would continue to swallow down the question that began with ‘Will you’ and ended with ‘Marry me’ amidst the others he needed answers for. They’d only been dating a month, so it would be a while before Jason was comfortable even allowing thoughts of matrimony to blossom from seed to full bloom.

(He wanted everything with her.)

(His Lady.)

(The Lady to his Knight.)

(Jason Nightingale had a nice ring to it.)

Jason kissed the top of Jazz’s head and pulled her further onto his chest before he fell back asleep, content with having his lady in his arms again.

Bruce wanted to laugh and cry in equal measure as he studied the pictures of his wayward son with his girlfriend, laughing, smiling, in love. Oh, Bruce could tell how smitten Jason was by how he looked so fondly at Jasmine Nightingale, the civilian his son had chosen to build a relationship with. On paper, they shared a common love of reading (Jason was classical literature, Jasmine was psychological thrillers), and an excellence at school (Jasmine had a 4.0 gpa), but there was little else to draw them together.

Yet, despite this, the two were happy together. They were in love. His son was in love.

And he was missing.

(Bruce swallowed down the grief at Jason being dead…again.)

(He’d been missing before, he’ll turn up.)

It was worrying that the sub-dermal tracker stopped working while Jason was at Jasmine’s apartment, but there had been no immediate sign that they’d been caught in the explosion or remained trapped in the debris.

Phantom had vanished almost as soon as he entered, no doubt on the trail of what had disturbed the spirit’s haunt so violently. It was concerning how competent the child ghost was at fighting, how angry Phantom became when there was a threat he had to face. Insult, demean, threaten him and the boy laughed it off with a casual grace that spoke of experience, but turn that attention to the people he claimed as his? No chance in the infinite realms that he wouldn’t find you. Constantine had been adamant to leave the spirit alone, to let him exist in his way, but the Magician often went out of his way to let others deal with his messes, so Bruce often took his advice with far more than a grain of salt.

\B, Phantom’s back. He says Hood is fine./

Relief coursed through the big bat, untightening the knot in his chest. Jason was fine. He is fine.

His eyes drifted back to the pictures splashed across the bat computer, the adoration in Jason’s gaze as he focused on his girlfriend was the common theme between all the candid shots Barbara had shared. Jasmine always leaned into his frame or held his hand, just sharing his space, body language comfortable and open.

(He could have a daughter-in-law very soon.)

(Maybe even a grandchild.)

Bruce let a smile slowly stretch across his face at the idea of being a grandfather, of finally retiring from the cowl and WE to be doting on a granddaughter or grandson, spending time with his family while he was still able to in this life.

(A part of him squealed and clapped at the very thought of more family gracing these once-empty halls.)

But first, he had to talk to his son and meet his future daughter-in-law.

Bruce was about to activate his comms, to have Tim get more information about Jason, but an urgent message from Diana, demanding he’s needed in the Watch Tower.

Constantine was summoning the Ghost King.

Phantom had in fact left the apartment building.

Jazz’s familiar teal-tinted portal opened for him to step through while he investigated and he didn’t waste any time crossing over to the Realms to where Jazz awaited him.

And there she was, arms outstretched and awaiting him to embrace her.

“Thank the Ancients!” Phantom exclaimed, diving into her waiting arms to wrap around his big sister, their different temperatures ignored in favor of communicating his relief with chirps and trills.

Worry. Safe. Concern. RELIEF. Protect?

Jazz clutched him tighter to her, nuzzling his soft white hair as she chirped back.

Safe. Relief. Guilty. LOVE.

At least Jazz would never fail to communicate her love for him, even while trying to reassure him she was okay.

Phantom’s core purred and Jazz’s Proto-core echoed it, albeit weaker in frequency. They stayed like that, hugging each other right outside the tribe’s boundary for a while before Jazz spoke.

“Little brother, we have to talk.”

Those words beginning a conversation often led to him being angry or upset, but Jazz hadn’t needed him to be so serious for quite a while.

“Hmm?”

She shifted her weight a bit, readjusting her grip around Phantom’s form.

“It’s about Jason…I told him about me.”

“As in,” Phantom began, pulling back from the hug, “you told him about Amity and…me?”

Jazz puffed out a sigh, a wisp of breath in a mockery of his ghost sense hanging in the air between them.

“I told him about us being ecto-contaminated, me being the most liminal being and all, but I told him I wouldn’t share your secrets.”

Phantom grinned, “Good because it’s about time I gave him a shovel talk.”

“No, little brother.” Jazz got a pained look on her face for a moment as the frosty air grew tense. A summoning and a painful one at that. “Phantom-”

“Go, I’ll talk to your boyfriend.”

“Be nice, not bitchy nice.”

“I’m always nice!”

He only received a scoff before Jazz was dragged along by the summoning, a brief flash of her armor appearing signaling it was a serious situation. Phantom did not envy the idiot who tried to summon the Ghost King only to get the Regent instead.

Speaking of idiots, Phantom had a Liminal to lecture and threaten.

“Hurt her and I’ll shove you into a thermos, mix you into a smoothie, and drink you for breakfast.”

“Creative.”

With that out of the way, Phantom floated over to Jason’s side and poked his stomach.

“You doing ok?” He questioned, concern for his fellow vigilante bleeding through. Sure, he cared about Jason the human, but Red Hood was infinitely cooler.

“Yeah, kid. I’m doing good.” Jason shuffled a bit more towards the center of the large cot, “You’re Danny Nightingale.” It was definitely not meant to be an accusation, Phantom was sure, but it sure felt like one.

The ghost kid nodded, “I’m a Halfa, half-ghost and half-human. When in ghost form, I prefer Phantom.”

“They/him?”

Phantom shrugged, “Close enough.”

Jason snorted, “How’re you doing kid?”

“I’m currently talking to my sister’s boyfriend about to give him a crash course on the spooky and ooky.” The halfa grinned, “I couldn’t be better.”

“Was that a reference?”

“Was what a reference?”

“Nevermind.”

To say Jason was horrified was a gross understatement.

He was so far past horrified he was well into confused panic at the sheer audacity of what he was currently hearing...

“You’re the rightful Ghost King, but you’re too young in human and ghost cultures to rule in your name so your older sister is acting as your Regent. Do I have that right?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

(Wow, Jazz was a badass.)

“Wait, but she goes by Regent as a vigilante?”

“It was easier than calling her anything else, a lot of the ghosts refer to Jazz as either Regent, Your Majesty, or My Lady so she’s grown used to responding to them.”

“Hold up- Lady?”

Another hum, “Jazz is the Lady of the Acropolis, a former student of Pandora, the Guardian of Hope and Ancient of Peace.”

“Wow, my girlfriend is awesome.”

Phantom chuckled, a soft pat on Jason’s shoulder, “And don’t you forget it.”

Whatever face Jason made as he realized he was courting a Lady, an actual Lady with a title and everything, was hilarious enough to make Phantom burst out laughing.

Whatever, Jason could take the mockery from Phantom as long as his family never found out about him dating a Lady. His brothers would never let him live it down, that he was living out his Regency fantasies.

(Fuckers, they’re just jealous he got a badass with a sword.)

“Where is Jazz?”

Phantom cringed, “She, uh, had to deal with something?” It was phrased as a question.

“Something we should be worried about?”

“For Jazz?” There was a hint of hero worship in his tone as the Ghost spoke of his sister, “We should be worried for the poor idiot that summoned her.”

(Hold up.)

“Summoned?”

“Summoned, keep up.”

Put a pin in that for later. “Why would anyone want to summon Jazz?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like she’s Regent of the Realms Infinite.” Ok, yeah, Jason deserved that sass. He was still wrapping his head around the fact that Jazz, his lovely spitfire of a soulmate girlfriend had Regency over a dimension of ghosts because Holy Shit.

(He was totally simping over her, he’s man enough to admit it.)

Somehow that seemed more of a staggering revelation than being told he had been a Revenant with corrupted Ectoplasm that had technically died for a second time when he had those severe chest pains, only to be revived by Jazz pouring pure ecto down his throat.

(The same Ecto she needs to keep herself healthy.)

(He wondered if Jazz had felt the connection between them even then.)

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked.

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever dared to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble.

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so.

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in.

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated.

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others.

With a breath, the Regent stood.

And so we continue….

A/N:

If you're confused by the ending it picks up from Part 12, my special Jason Todd/Red aesthetic entry for the series. Part 12 to 13 takes place right beforehand, so we'll be entering into the endgame of the Anti-Ecto Acts being repealed soon.

Kudos and thanks to my beta reader @meditating-cat. Apparently I over use commas, who knew?

They had one thing to say about Jason in this part: SIMPPPP

I agree, I'm a totally dork for Simp!Jason and Loving!Jazz.

As for other news, I've been making a bunch of boards for The Regent (and my Revenant!Jazz prompt) while I've been sick, so there's that. I don't like many of them anyways.

A surprise poll will be included in an upcoming part, maybe not the next one, but it will come so keep an eye out for it because the answer will be included in the series.

Happy Holidays and best wishes from me to you!

-Love, the one strong with the sarcasm

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