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alonetimelover · 8 months

Note

Hi, was wondering if you could write a dadrry social media au? Could be about anything, just love to see that content ❤️ amazing work btw!

pairing: Harry Styles x famous!reader

summary: just dadrry and his sweet family of five

a/n: a little fic based in the famous!reader universe!

masterlist taglist famous!reader

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 65 292 others

harryupdates HARRY and his youngest baby were seen hiking in Italy!!

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ynupdates that's certainly a way to hold a baby!

harrysmoustache FATHER IS HERE

stylesbabie you're the real one for putting this emoji on baby's face! i saw others not being so considerate

⤷ harryupdates of course! it's a child and besides the as it was bts neither yn or harry posted their face

harrysmylife here i thought he would stop walking so much after having children. nope! now, he's bringing them with himself!

ynsmymama i saw photos with their oldest baby there as well, yn's having some me time

hArrysbtch y'all here praising him for being a father and here i am staring at his arms. my man got some guns on himself

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, ynupdates and 6 492 392 others

yourinstagram being heavily pregnant during winter >>>>> during the summer

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harrystyles You look flawlessly.

⤷ yourinstagram nothing you say will give back my biscuit

⤷ harrystyles We have two packs in the pantry.

⤷ yourinstagram yeah? but that one had the most raisins i've ever seen on a biscuit. and you ate it.

annetwist As soon as you'll be back in London I am taking kids for a week. I miss them!

⤷ yourinstagram you're the best, mum. can you take your child as well?

⤷ harrystyles Rude.

⤷ annetwist Of course! You need some alone time!

gemmastyles hello, sexy mama. are you single?

⤷ yourinstagram i am for the next twenty minutes. let's make the most of it. gelato?

ynupdates you're glowing

harryupdates what a beautiful family

ynsmymama how do you like the ball exercises? because i hated them during my pregnancy

⤷ yourinstagram hi child! and tbh i don't exercise on that ball. i just roll on it

⤷ ynsmybestie ICON

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YN via IG story

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates and 34 202 others

harryupdates HARRY was seen walking to the hospital in London! It's the hospital where YN and him went to a few days ago.

view all 2 302 comments

ynupdates ohhhh, this is a fresh dad Harry

hArrysbtch that's the man that for the third time, THIRD TIME became a father

harrysmoustache DILF

ynsmybestie i love how cozy he looks

stylesbabie finally that big ass bag is full of necessary shit

harrysmylife when is he going to start wearing dad clothes? i can't wait to swoon over a man dressing like any father on the planet, because I will

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Harry via his IG story

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 45 392 others

harryupdates HARRY was at the playdate with both of his and YN's older kids!

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hArrysbtch hot dad at the playdate???

stylesbabie i hope those mums and dads are respectful

harrysmylife i asked for a dad outfit and he delivered

⤷ harrysmoustache definitely! my dad dresses the same

ynupdates he looks good, fatherhood is treating him good

⤷ hArrysbtch i wouldn't expect anything else

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dailymail

liked by user45 and 279 302 others

dailymail Harry Styles and wife, YN YSN, were asked to leave the restaurant after customers and staff were disturbed by YN breastfeeding their newborn. Our source says that after having a conversation, led by YN, the manager of the restaurant didn't change his decision. Harry escorted YN and their child to the car and then came back to have a talk with the management of the restaurant. Apparently, he was visibly furious and on the edge of losing his temper. After a discussion and manager's attempts to apologise, Harry stormed off.

view all 23 201 comments

harryupdates I'm not surprised he was furious! was yn supposed to starve their child?

ynupdates it's 21st century and people are still scared of women breastfeeding

ynsmybestie who was disturbed, men or women?

⤷ stylesbabie the article said it was three men complain

⤷ ynsmybestie I'm sadly not surprised

ynsmymama if they were so bothered by her breastfeeding near others, they could propose her some private room and not throw them out of the restaurant!

⤷ ynsmybestie but they shouldn't have a problem with it. she shouldn't leave restaurant for feeding her child

⤷ ynsmymama of course! but wanting to please all the customers you adjust to the situation. they didn't do thag

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist, ynupdates, harryupdates and 8 302 302 others

yourinstagram Hello, you little people in my phone! As most of you know (because of Daily Mail) two days ago, my husband, our child, and I were asked to leave the restaurant we ate at, because of causing disturbance to other customers. The said disturbance was me breastfeeding our child. Before our waiter and then the manager talked with us, my husband took a picture (above) (he really takes pictures of everything) showing what was visible while breastfeeding (A BREAST !!). There really was no conversation between two parties. When asked if covering myself with a cloth would be more comfortable, I was just once again asked to leave the restaurant. No person should be forbidden to feed their children in public. I shouldn't have asked if covering myself would be more comfortable with others. No. We shouldn't accept this kind of non written 'rules'. With everything said, I wasn't going to let our child starve and went to feed her in a car, so no stranger eyes could see a breast. In the link in bio you can find a great article about breastfeeding in public and what parents go through to please the strangers being bothered by a flesh of naked skin. Be kind to each other. YN.

view all 349 302 comments

harrystyles You are the best mother our children could have. And the best partner I could find and share the life with.

⤷ yourinstagram I love you.

annetwist ♥️♥️

gemmastyles You tell'em sister

ynupdates I am so mad that you needed to made a statement about it. sick.

harryupdates people are very delicate when it comes to breastfeeding but have no problem with parading without a shirt on

hArrysbtch im just gonna focus on how precious that picture is, and the fact that harry is that type of a father to snap pictures of everything

⤷ yourinstagram he really is, those 256gb are straining and in need of expanding

⤷ harrystyles Not my fault they don't allow SD cards anymore.

⤷ hArrysbtch we love a millennial

harrysmoustache that restaurant is going to flood with negative reviews right now

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist and 11 291 492 others

harrystyles To the best woman I know, thank you for choosing me to be your partner and father of our beautiful children. There is no moment in the day or night when I don't think about how lucky and fulfilled I feel spending my life with you. Happy birthday, my love. Your, H.

comments to this post have been limited

yourinstagram Come downstairs. There are now words to describe my love.

annetwist Happy birthday, YN. I believe there could be no other person more perfect to be in our lives.

gemmastyles Happy birthday, wifey!!!

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a/n: should i write some blurbs about dadrry?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles one shot #famous!reader #dad!harry

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kcrossvine-art · 1 year

Text

hi friends! :D y'all voted and fought neck and neck for this SO- heres the first entry into our little cooking journey of J. R. R. Tolkeins fictional food for his fictional little guys he puts in fictional turmoils for our enjoyment and awe!

Before we get started i wanna say i owe my heart to all the LotR fans who upkeep the wiki, debate the cannon, and create their own versions of the foods mentioned. Both because of my love for people who LOVE (passionate people)(passion about anything) and because my own knowledge of this series is a little dusty. I've never seen the movies but I did read the books growing up. I'll be learning and remembering things from a fairly newbie standpoint, so no worries if you yourself arent familiar with the series! (and if you are familiar, hopefully youll forgive me!)

We will be making Lembas ('waybread') today! If you've made your own version of this please feel free to share it, similarly if you have any ideas for what we make next!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Lembas?” YOU MIGHT ASKWell so the funny thing is we kinda dont know. At least not entirely? The elves are dicks like that. But heres what we'll be using in ours-

Butter

Self-rising flour

Granulated Sugar

Raisins

A small dried fruit of your choosing

Almonds OR Pecans

EGG

Whole Milk

Heavy Cream

And if you would like for dipping-

Blackberry jam

To the extent i understand this is kinda like hardtack from the bri'ish military, but a fantastical version of it that actually tastes really good. Hardtack was a military provision with the texture of a brick that took a long time to spoil and could be easily carried with soldiers. So the texture we're going for is super dense, packed full with nuts and fruits (haha just lik-), but perhaps not that dense. We want something closer to a dog biscuit than actual tack.

I remembered something about corn being mentioned, thankfully the wiki clarified that no actually the british just referred to any grain as corn back in the day. Thank Fuck! Although I would like to try a version of this using masa in the future.

AND, “what does Lembas taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Took a few tries but eventually got it perfectly chewy and dense

The raisins cook-in like little beads of flavortown sweetness

Cant speak for other fruits but for dried apple it softened up nicely, kinda matching the raisins in the end

Im a big pecan slut, pecans fuck on anything especially here. Crumble them on top after you coat the dough with the egg-mixture for some visual appeal

Somewhat flakey outside

The jam was my idea, it was nice but might be too sweet for some tastes

Would pair very well with a kiwi flavored drink

Or mead

I can see why this would a travelling provision. Its both sugary (a good thing when expending energy) and filling (also a good thing when youre travelling) while not being overwhelming with flavor (if youre prone to motion sickness. Horse sickness? Do get motion sickness on horses?)

Its like how if you're going hiking you want a good mix of sugars and salts, to balance your intake of water.

. If you wanna make it like the illustrations or the movie, use a cookie cutter for either triangles or squares . If you don't have a cookie cutter, an apple cutter also works ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . try to keep the board you'll roll the dough out onto chilled before you use it, it seems better for the texture of the food though i dont entirely know why

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So from beginning to end, it took about an hour and half for the first attempt. Down to about 40 minutes for the second attempt. These are a real simple recipe because its not like a croissant where the margin for error is nonexistent. Middle-earth be damned my boy can work a grill.

I'd recommend storing in a tubberware container, but if you're deadset on using leaves please rinse and dry them first, and wrap the bread in either wax paper or saran wrap underneath. We dont have mallorn leaves in real life (as far as we know) but most salad greens should work, or as Marie Porter says (linked in the reblogs!) a banana leaf.

I really enjoyed the process of making this recipe, itd be really easy to batch-bake these en masse, and the process of eating said recipe. Like all jokes aside, i think this would be a great substitute for trailmix. Its not going to get smushed and even if it breaks a bit it wont affect the taste. It wont keep you fed for a whole day but pair it with some pickles or a salty snack and yeah itll keep your motor running.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Let me know if you think I got something wrong, or if you ran into issues with the recipe. We're off to a strong start, lads!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

6 TBSP butter, chilled

2 cups self-rising flour

1 TBSP granulated sugar

½ cup raisins

½ other dried fruit (strawberry slices, oranges, etc.), chopped

Handful of almonds or pecans, chopped

1 egg, well beaten

½ cup whole milk

4 TBSP heavy cream

Method:

Preheat your oven to 400 f.

Cut the butter into slivers/small pieces. With your hands, combine the butter into the flour in a mixing bowl until the mixture resembles coarse sand.

Chop your dried nuts and dried fruit until it feels right.

Mix in the sugar, raisins, nut, and dried fruit of your choosing

In a seperate bowl, beat the egg until combined, and then mix in the milk until combined. Keep a bit of this mixture to brush the tops of the bread.

Stir while adding the egg/milk mixture and the heavy cream into the flour. Mix just until combined into a soft dough.

Knead the dough until firm on a floured surface.

Roll into a half inch thickness and cut with a square or leaf shaped cookie cutter. (...or in my case, an apple corer).

Place on a lightly greased baking sheet, with about an inch of space between each piece. Brush the tops of the lembas with some of the mixture you saved earlier.

Bake for about 15-20 minutes, or until it turns a soft gold and the inside is chewy.

#cross cooks lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #lotr art

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bunnylovesani · 2 months

Text

He Was a Boy, She Was a Girl

Summary: Sam has never been the most reliable neighbour- but will he have your back when the opportunity arises?

Content warnings: Fluff with the tiniest bit of smut at the end

WC: 2.4k

Sam Monroe was nothing if not an asshole. If the mailman mistakenly delivered only one newspaper, he would rush out to make sure he was the first to get it. If you were studying and asked him to turn the music down, he’d crank it up to full volume until the walls vibrated. The one time you were sick and couldn’t wheel the garbage out to the end of the road, he laughed at your plea for help, kicking the piled-up bin on his way out. What’s more, he came over again later just to complain about the smell while you answered the door wrapped up in your duvet, sniffling through your painfully reddened nose.

There was no doubt whatsoever that Sam was a self-centred, lazy, abrasive boy. You’d learned long ago that if you wanted something done, he was not the neighbour to ask. So why were you so obsessed with him?

Maybe it was his steely cold good looks or the way he endlessly teased you that got you hooked but one thing was certain- he would never like someone like you.

Or at least that’s what you thought. Though the bravado he put on was impressively convincing, behind the layers of angst and attitude was a boy who had been smitten with you for years. He’d observed you closely since you were kids; your bedroom windows were parallel to each other and you weren’t too fond of closing your curtains. How could he not fall for you when you left taped-up paper notes for him on the glass, signing every message off with a heart? He’d roll his eyes and shut the blinds in response but a smile would creep up on his face once he was out of sight.

That’s just the way you were, tooth-rottingly sweet and resiliently kind despite his many attempts to enforce a distance between you. But you gave your kindness out to everyone- he could tell by the way you chirped “Good morning!” to the whole street and the wide grin that was always plastered on your angelic face.

Yes, it was clear as day that your brightness was not reserved for him, which is why he was decidedly careful not to mistake your warm-hearted nature for something more.

He didn’t see the way you baked your cookies just for him, swapping out the chocolate chips for raisins because you knew he preferred those even though you couldn’t stand them. He didn’t know that your beaming smile was only there because he’d crawled out of his room long enough for you to catch a glimpse of him that day. Just like you didn’t know that there was no smell coming from the bins that day, he just needed an excuse to see you were okay.

“Sam! Come on, open the door. I know you’re in there.” You sighed, tapping your foot impatiently outside his house.

“What?” He huffed, opening up with half-lidded eyes and his usual boorish demeanour.

“There you are, I’ve been knocking for all of ten minutes. Brad needs a flat nut tool for his guitar and I thought it sounded like something you’d have.”

“Brad?” He raised his eyebrow. “That Neanderthal has taken up playing?”

“He wants to be a guitar tech.” You chewed on your bottom lip, his scrutinising glare piercing into you.

“And he can’t buy his own tools?” Sam turned around and walked off into his room with you trailing closely behind.

“He says he forgot to buy this one.” You shrug.

“Well too bad, I’m not loaning my best tool to a guy that forgets to turn up to his own finals exam.”

“That was one time!” You defended him though you weren’t entirely sure why.

“One time too many.” He lands back into his unmade bed with a soft thud. “You know he wants to fuck you, right?”

“Brad? No way.” You shake your head fervently.

“Oh, yes. He’s pretending to be your friend, taking you out to all these parties, just waiting for an opportunity for you to let your guard down.”

“You’re too paranoid, Sam. I mean, honestly. Not every guy wants to get in my pants. I mean, you should know. You can barely tolerate me.” You chuckle mirthlessly, hoping in vain that he would refute your claim.

“Yeah. I suppose.” He clears his throat and sinks deeper into his duvet, awkward energy filling the air.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. Sorry for bothering you.” You turn on your heel.

“Bye.” He grunts as you make your way out of the house.

In hindsight, what you’d asked of him was embarrassingly silly and you knew he’d never agree- but you would take any excuse to talk to him, even if the conversation was uncomfortable.

As you strolled the few steps it took to reach your home next door, you saw Brad standing by your porch.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” He smirked, opening his arms to pull you in for a hug.

“Brad?” You hugged back confusedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason to see a friend?” He quipped disingenuously.

“Uh, I guess not. I asked Sam about the flat nut but he doesn’t have one.” Your gaze wandered to Sam’s bedroom window, which faced out to your porch.

“The what? Oh, that. Ah man, that really sucks!” He slapped his leg insincerely.

“Yeah…I should be going now, thanks for stopping by.” You try to shake him off but he steps in front of the door before you can enter.

“Woah, woah, wait. Saying bye so soon? But I came all this way.” He cocks his head and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“That’s why you should’ve called first.” You try to sidestep but he grips his broad hands on your shoulders, holding you in place.

“Don’t be rude.” He warns, beady eyes darkening.

“Get your hands off me!” You slap him across the face and wriggle out of his grasp, pushing him aside to run into the house. You slam the door shut, locking every bolt and key you have before peering out the peephole to ensure he’d left; he trudged down the porch muttering curses under his breath until he was out of view. Sliding your back down the door and bringing your knees close, you exhaled a shaky breath. Sam was right.

“Hey, hold up!” Sam shouted as he ran out of his front door to catch up with Brad, who had just passed his front yard.

“The hell do you want?” He grumbled, stopping for a moment to observe the scrawny, pale specimen marching towards him. “I don’t actually need the damn flat nut.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the tool.” He chuckled, giving himself no time to think about how much taller or broader his opponent was before his arm reared back and he punched Brad square in the jaw, knocking him down to the concrete pavement.

“You come near her again, I swear to God. I’ll show you what flat nuts look like.” Sam spat, enraged by what he’d seen unfold through his window.

“The hero act is adorable. It really is.” Brad wheezed. “But she’ll never want you.”

“If you so much as look at her again, I will put you in the fucking ground.” Sam recoiled venomously, adrenaline and fury pumping through his veins.

Before being tempted to do something more drastic, he paced over to your front door, giving himself a moment to diffuse before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey. You okay?” He asked breathily once you answered.

“Quickly, come in.” You ushered him in and looked both ways before locking the door securely behind you. “You were right, Sam. He tried making a move on me! And he wasn’t best pleased when I didn’t play along.”

“What an idiot.” Sam shook his head disapprovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh come on, don’t cry. You know I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Sorry.” You winced, wiping them away immediately as he scratched the back of his head, a conflicted expression painted across his face.

“Why are you here?” You sniffled, remembering you forgot to ask.

“Oh, um, I- I came to ask if you wanted to get some ice cream.” He declared somewhat unconvincingly, subtly scanning you to make sure you were unharmed.

“You? Want to get ice cream with me?” Your eyes stopped watering at the thought.

“I’m craving some, why not bring you along? It’s a nice day and there’s an ice cream truck parked right down the road.” He gulped, hoping you wouldn’t question his out-of-character behaviour.

“O-okay.” You nodded, chest feeling lighter at the thought of a strawberry scoop.

“Come on then, slowpoke, out you get.” He opened the door and swung his arm out.

“Coming.” You chuckled, Sam’s teasing instantly brightening your mood.

He guided you down the road, thankful the truck was in the opposite direction to the block he’d had his scuffle with Brad.

Halting before the white van, you observed the myriad of flavours on display and pondered.

“We’ll have one cone with vanilla and one with rum and raisin, please.” Sam announced to the balding ice cream man before you could interject. He swiftly scooped up the creamy spread and gave it to you both, eyebrows furrowed at the scrunched-up 5 dollar note Sam handed him in return.

You gulped at the brown-mauve lump, not wanting to appear ungrateful but struggling to hide your displeasure.

“You love raisins, right? You put them in all your cookies.” Sam sucked at his melting white scoop and you glared enviously.

“Of course, yeah.” You muttered as convincingly as you could before licking a stripe up the unappetising glob, careful to avoid any rogue raisins.

“How is it?” He asked earnestly.

“Amazing. So tasty. Wanna try?” You nudged the cone his way but he shook his head.

“I’ll stick to my boring vanilla.” He winked before taking a crispy bite out of the wafer.

Using strategic nibbles, you could stomach the flavour of the rum by swallowing it whole before the sickly taste had time to disperse. The raisins, however, were a different kind of challenge. Whenever Sam looked away, you took the opportunity to quickly pick the morsels off and toss them to the ground. He was too lost in his usual grumbling, heightened by the excitement with Brad, to pay any notice. Finishing the last of your cone with a sigh of relief, a shiver coursed through your body.

“You cold?” Sam nudged your shoulder against his own.

“A little.” You shrugged, acting like it was the weather and not the monstrosity you’d just ingested causing your goosebumps.

“I didn’t bring anything.” He tutted, stopping in his tracks. “Let me run back and get you something.”

“No, Sam, it’s fine-“

“It’ll only take a minute.” He interrupted, already jogging back towards the house as you took a seat on a nearby bench. It was pointless arguing with him.

Sam retrieved a black fleeced hoodie from his coat rack and quickly paced his way back, not wanting to keep you waiting. As he caught up with you, he noticed a trail of little brown lumps scattered across the pavement, each fleck spaced a couple metres apart. Squinting, he peered closely until the details came into focus. Are those raisins?

Somewhat carelessly, Sam tossed the hoodie in your direction and you grabbed it with a grateful nod. You draped it over yourself with a contented hum, the warmth of his scent enveloping you.

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully.

“No problem.” He sat down besides you, keeping a small distance. “Let’s play a game.”

“What kinda game?” You cocked your head curiously.

“One of those rapid fire ones. I ask short questions and you have to say yes or no really quickly.” He explained with a faint smirk.

“Okay, hit me!” You slapped your palms against your thighs excitedly.

“Alright. Is pink your favourite colour?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love roses?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like Brad?”

“No.”

“Is today a Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your lips, your breath hitched and your mind began racing with ways you could take it back. Sam smirked and shuffled back on the bench, spreading his legs apart and resting his hands behind his head.

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly taking pleasure in your humiliation.

“As a friend. As a neighbour!” You interjected frantically.

“Don’t try to backtrack now. You love me.” He laughed, shoving you playfully as you dropped your head into your hands, keen to hide your reddening face. “Why did I find a trail of raisins leading up to here, huh?”

You raised your head to meet his gaze, now softened and sincere.

“I hate raisins.” You mumbled.

“And you put them in all your cookies because?”

“I knew you liked them.”

“I thought as much.” He hummed, his suspicions confirmed.

“Look, Sam- it’s a really stupid crush, I’ll get over it, I promise. This doesn’t have to change anything, right?” You whined desperately.

“Of course it does. It changes everything.” He shook his head.

“What? No, Sam, please-“

“Now I can finally do what I’ve been wanting to for years.” He turned to face you, Adam’s apple bobbing with apprehension.

“Wh-what? Wait, Sam-” You quietened, shrinking into nothing as he drew closer.

“Shut up.” He grasped your jaw firmly and you melted into his touch as he grazed his bottom lip against yours. “Enough talking.”

Your whimpering was swallowed by the plump pink lips that enveloped your own, fingers tangled into your hair as he kissed you in a way that made you feel his years of longing. The soft, wet flesh smacked messily and filled your chest with an aching desire, unlike anything you’d experienced before. Strings of drool connected your lips as you pulled away reluctantly for breath.

“You’re a good kisser.” You panted breathlessly, blissfully unaware of your surroundings or the judgemental glares you’d been getting from passers-by.

“Come back to mine and I’ll show you what else I’m good at.” He smirked, wiping the spit off his deliciously swollen lips.

You wanted to play modest but you knew there was no use resisting- by the end of the night, you’d be bent over his unmade bed, scrunching up the sheets with balled-up fists and moaning out his name as he mercilessly moulded himself into your squishy guts.

You couldn’t wait.

Taglist:

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#hayden christensen #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fluff #life as a house #hayden christensen x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader

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monachopsis-11 · 4 months

Text

The infantilization of having restricted eating is crazy, I get treated like a kid on a regular basis by people who were treating me normal five seconds earlier just because of my sandwich order.

I have sat at a restaurant meeting while I was a hostess where all my coworkers laughed at how plain the food on the kids menu was and how kids had no taste and they were so glad they weren’t like that anymore. At the same job people questioned my orders when I got food at the end of a shift saying it was barely even the same thing anymore and wouldn’t I like something else? If I had wanted something else I would have asked for it, you don’t need to double check and use baby voice with me I’m fully capable of deciding what I eat.

I get judgmental looks and questions from people who take my food orders in public more and more often as I get older and it’s less socially acceptable for me to say no vegetables on things without being treated like a spoiled child who’s inconveniencing them. People look at me in surprise and ask if they heard right, scoff, roll their eyes etc. on a pretty regular basis.

When I need to send back food after someone makes a mistake on my order and I can’t eat it my family acts like they’re embarrassed of me and sometimes when I’m not paying they refuse to let me. I will go hungry every time and have been made to often as well.

For years school trips and meals with other peoples families were a terrifying ordeal and still give me anxiety. I was denied desert and sometimes the meal as a whole for not eating even though I asked what was being made ahead of time so I knew if I should eat before hand or bring something else and even knowing this people ignored it and changed meal plans to try and pressure me into eating more variety.

The worst part of all of this is that I wish I could eat everything other people can but sometimes the smell or look of food I don’t like on someone else’s plate is enough to make me feel sick, the thought of putting it in my mouth for any reason is unimaginable.

And maybe the whole “they’ll eat if they’re hungry enough” thing works at a certain point but I lived off beef jerky, raisins, and half a bagel for four days on a school trip where no one bothered to accommodate my eating restrictions and I would’ve gone much longer before eating what was offered.

I had a teacher who kept me in for six recesses in a row over me not trying a bite of food we cooked in class in third grade purely because they were annoyed and took it on themself to step into something that wasn’t their business.

I regularly get guilted and called out on my unhealthy diet and it hurts because I would do anything to be able to eat more foods, I hope that maybe I will in the future, but right now it’s not an option. I’m hoping if I find a good smoothie recipe I can get more fruits and vegetables in my diet but even then I won’t ever be in a position to just eat what is served and I shouldn’t have to endure judging and being treated like a child by random strangers who have no business in what I want the food I’m paying for to have on it.

It’s valid for adults to have restricted eating too, it doesn’t make us children, and it’s not a moral failing. It’s also not anyone else’s business.

#actually autistic #autistic experiences #late diagnosed autistic #invisible disability #actuallyautistic #autism #asd #autistic community #disability #restricted eating #sensory issues #food issues

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sofiaispunk · 1 year

Text

The Bakery Crush - PART (1/2)

Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

summary: Just two fools clearly in love, pining over each other because ... well, they are fools.

words: 3kish

warnings: angst, JEALOUSY, Joel being a fool, smut, pining, age gap, bad puns, heartbreak, 18+

You enjoyed the little things in Jackson. The little fairy lights that brighten up the street and making Jackson almost feel like a magical wonderland, the vibrant colors of the changing leaves in autumn, the sound of the flowing water from the nearby river, but what you enjoyed the most was the smell of freshly baked bread from your little bakery on the corner in Mainstreet.

Shortly after arriving in Jackson Maria assigned, you to baking duty, since you were a professional baker before the outbreak, and showed you to your new working place.

It was a charming little bakery that had been abandoned for years but as you peered through the dusty windows, you immediately saw the potential.

Tommy, Maria’s husband, helped you turn the rusty shop into your dream bakery. You spent countless hours painting the walls a warm shade of yellow, installing new cabinets and countertops, and laying down fresh tiles.

You were determined to make the bakery stand out, a place with a warm atmosphere where everybody felt welcomed. You even found old wooden crates to use as shelves, hung vintage baking utensils on the walls, and added some decorative flowers for the ambiance.

That was a year ago and since then your bakery has become the favorite place of the residents of Jackson and Jackson became your home.

You were busy kneading a batch of dough when you heard the familiar jingle of the bakery's bell.

"Hey there, Ellie!" you greeted her with a smile. "How was school today?"

"It was fine," she replied, shrugging off her backpack. "But you know what would make it better? A freshly baked blueberry scone."

You chuckled. "You never change, do you? One blueberry scone for my favorite customer coming right up."

As you handed her a warm scone on a napkin, Ellie grinned mischievously. "Thanks, (y/n). This looks berry delicious!”

You couldn't help but chuckle at her pun. "That's a good one, Ellie. You really do have a way with words."

She grinned. "Thanks, I try. I mean, it's not like I'm rolling in dough like you are." She waggled her eyebrows at you and took another bite of the scone.

You laughed lightly, continuing to work on your dough, "You're too much, Ellie. But you always make me smile, that’s why you my favorite, y‘ know."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," she said with a grin. "To brighten up your day and eat all your delicious scones."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You're lucky I like you, kid."

Ellie finished up the last of her scone and sighed contentedly. "Man, that hit the spot. I don't know how you do it, really. Your scones are always so flavorful and yummy."

"It's all about using the best ingredients and putting my secret ingredient in … love." You answered playfully, slightly cringing at your cheesy answer.

Ellie just groaned silently but nodded. "Well, it shows. You know, you really raisin the bar when it comes to baked goods."

Now it was your turn to groan. "That one was a bit of a stretch, Ellie."

"Hey, I can't help it. I'm on a roll today."

You both laughed as she grabbed her backpack and headed over to you to give you a small hug and a quick kiss on your cheek "Thanks for the scone. I’m off to Dina’s. See you, tomorrow.”

And with that Ellie rushed her way towards the exit.

"Take care, Ellie," you called after her with a smile. "And keep those puns coming, kid."

It was getting late and you were closing the store front for the day. You packed up the leftover treats from the bakery and couldn't help but think that maybe Joel would want to enjoy them. So you gathered up some pretzel pieces, bread, two scones that Ellie loves, and some croissants and made your way to Joel's house.

The evening sky painted in different hues of orange and pink. The streets were quiet as most people had retired for the night. You walked leisurely towards Joel's house, taking in the sights and sounds of the town you had grown to love.

When you reached the house, you knocked on the door and waited. Ellie opened the door with a surprised look on her face.

"Hey, Ellie. Sorry to drop by so late. I thought maybe you and Joel would want to have some of these leftover treats," you said, holding up the bag of the baked goods.

Ellie smiled, "Of course we would. You know he can never resist them, and neither can I. Come on in."

As you followed Ellie to the kitchen, you couldn't help but notice how cozy and warm their home was. The living room was dimly lit, and the only source of light came from the candles on the coffee table.

“Joel's not home yet, though.“ She said while tearing up a piece of croissant, “I don't know where he is, and it's kind of weird because he's never out this late."

Your eyebrows furrowed with concern. "Really? That's strange. Do you want me to stay with you until he gets back?"

Ellie shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'm sure he's just caught up with something. Thanks for the offer, though."

You nodded and headed over to the door, "Sure, no problem. Let me know if you need anything, okay kiddo?"

Ellie nodded and bid you goodnight and you made your way home, in desperate need of a warm shower after a long day at work.

You stood under the warm shower, the water cascading down your body, the stream slowly relaxing your muscles, allowing yourself to let your mind wander. Thoughts of Joel flooded your mind. You couldn't help but think about his chiseled physique and his strong, defined features. His nose, perfectly carved, led down to his plush lips that always seemed to be turned down in a permanent scowl.

But then, there was his smile. The one that could light up an entire room, the one that made your heart skip a beat. The way his face changed, softening, and becoming almost boyish, when he talked to Ellie. His soft brown eyes crinkling with laughter every time Ellie tells one of her many jokes. It was like seeing a completely different side of him, that almost felt like was just reserved for you and Ellie.

You let your soapy hands glide over your body pretending they were his big, calloused ones exploring your body. Steam filled the bathroom as your moans and whimpers echoed though the small room.

You drew tight circles on your most aching part while imagining the way his broad shoulders would feel under your hands, and his strong thick fingers, that always seemed to be working on something, replacing yours. His lips sucking and licking on every part of your body, consuming you.

"Joel,” you let out a final moan, your voice not much above a whisper, as you reached your peak, your walls clenching around nothing.

The water started to cool as you tried to catch your breath, bringing you back to reality. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel. You knew you needed to push these thoughts aside, but a part of you couldn't help but think about Joel and wonder where he could be at this hour. You just prayed that he was okay.

The next morning, while you were getting ready to open the bakery, you noticed Joel and Ellie walking in. To your surprise Joel was carrying a bouquet of flowers and a bag of coffee beans, which caught you off guard.

"Good morning, (y/n)!" Ellie chirped, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Morning, Ellie. Morning, Joel. What brings you guys in today?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Joel smiled warmly. "I just wanted to say thank you for the bread and scones yesterday. They were delicious. And I thought you might like these flowers and coffee beans as a small token of my appreciation."

Your felt your heartbeat race as he handed you the small bouquet of wildflowers. "Thank you, Joel. That's very thoughtful of you."

Ellie nudged you with her elbow, a sly grin on her face. "Looks like somebody's got a secret admirer… well, not so secret," she teased.

"Ellie, please. That’s enough" Joel gave Ellie a stern look. Ellie just shrugged innocently in return and skipped off to the display case, leaving you alone with Joel.

"Listen, I don't want to keep you from your work. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate what you do for me and especially for Ellie. And, well, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

“Thank you, that means a lot, Joel” you blushed slightly.

“Anytime, darlin’,” he placed his warm hand on yours and you felt a flutter in your stomach at the contact of his skin.

As if reading your mind, Ellie sauntered back over, a chocolate croissant in hand. "What's going on over here? Are you two making googly eyes at each other?"

Joel laughed. "No, Ellie. She and I were just having a friendly conversation."

But Ellie wasn't convinced. "Uh-huh. Sure, you were. Well, I'm going to go enjoy this delicious croissant. You two keep doing your thing."

As she walked away, Joel turned back to you with a warm smile. "Don't mind her, darlin´. She's just teasing. But, really, thank you again for everything."

As Joel and Ellie were about to leave, Ellie turned to you, "I almost forgot to ask you if you wanna come to the community hall tonight and watch a movie with us?"

"Really? You want lil’ old me to come with you?" you teased.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Duh. We wouldn't have asked if we didn't want you to come. We're watching this old western movie that Joel loves. You know, to keep up with his cowboy persona."

Joel chuckled. "Ellie, you know I'm not a real cowboy. But, yes, we would love it if you came. “

You grinned. "I would love to come. And I'll bring some blueberry scones."

Ellie's eyes lit up. "Yes! I knew you would say that. Those are my favorites."

You made your way to the community hall, the twinkle lights hanging above the entrance, casting a warm and inviting glow. The hall itself was a modest, single-story building with wooden walls and a sloping roof. Overall it was a cozy space and pretty much the center point of your little community.

As you entered the hall, you were greeted by Tommy and Maria , who were standing by the door, handing out programs for the evening's event. They both smiled and greeted you warmly.

"Hey there, (y/n)!" Tommy said. "Glad you could make it."

Maria chimed in. "Yes, we're all excited for the movie tonight. Have you seen it before?"

You shook your head. "No, I haven't. But I've heard good things. Ellie seemed excided."

You made some small talk about the movie and the bakery before you spotted Ellie and Joel sitting in the front row. You made your way over to them, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation.

"Hey, guys," you said, sitting down next to them. "Looks like we got good seats."

Ellie grinned. "Of course, we did. Dad always gets here early to get the best spot."

Joel chuckled. "That's right. Gotta be prepared."

Joel was holding a big bag of popcorn and handed it over to you, your fingers barely touching, sending shivers down your entire body. "’M glad you could make it.” he whispered into your ear. You felt his breath lightly tickling your earlobe.

"Oh, I have a small favor," Ellie exclaimed, turning back to you, causing you to abruptly snap out of your trance.

"Dina's birthday is next week. Do you think you could make her a cake?" Ellie asked shyly. “Only if you want of course and only if you have enough spare ingredients. I know it’s a lot to ask from you but Dina is not just any friend … well… she is my friend of course but she is my best friend and special and I want to do something extra special for her. I am sorry, just forget I said anything. “ Ellie was visibly distressed.

You smiled and put a reassuring hand on her arm to stop her rambling. "Of course I can. What kind of cake were you thinking about?"

Ellie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "She loves chocolate. And... wait for it... peanut butter."

You laughed. "Well, it sounds like we'll have to come up with something extra special for her then."

Ellie hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help but feel so much adoration for the girl. In the short timespan you knew each other she crawled her way into your heart and became part of your family.

Ellie nudged you. "Oh and look, there's Karen and her grandkids. She's been raving about your cinnamon rolls all week."

You looked around the hall and were surprised to see how many people had shown up for the movie night. There were families with kids, elderly couples, and even a few teenagers.

You smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe I'll make some for the next movie night."

The lights dimmed and the movie began, Joel and Ellie sat on either side of you, munching on popcorn and occasionally making side comments about the movie. You were immediately drawn into the Western that was playing, with its sweeping landscapes and rugged cowboys which kind of reminded you of Joel.

About halfway through the movie, a woman sat down next to Joel and began talking to him, completely ignoring the fact that you were in the middle of a film. Ellie let out an annoyed huff and shushed her, but the woman didn't seem to get the message.

You turned to Ellie and gave her a gentle nudge. "Hey, now. Let's not be rude," you whispered.

“She’s the one being rude. “Ellie rolled her eyes but quieted down and turned her attention back to the movie.

You on the other hand found yourself growing more and more distracted by the conversation between the woman and Joel. They laughed and chatted, and Joel seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company.

Your curiosity was piqued, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Who is that woman? How do they know each other? Did he invite her to watch the movie with him? You tried to focus on the movie, but every time the woman laughed, your attention was drawn back to their conversation.

Your thoughts didn’t seem to quiet down and raced through your mind, and you found yourself feeling increasingly agitated. At the corner of your eye stole a glance at Ellie, who was engrossed in the movie.

You strained your ears to catch snippets of the conversation between Joel and the woman and immediately noticed the flirtatious undertones in their banter. The woman was playing with her hair, and Joel kept stealing glances at her. You felt a knot forming in your stomach as you watched them.

At one point, you heard the woman mention something about a rodeo, and Joel's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, you were a natural on that bull," he whispered, chuckling.

The woman grinned. "Yeah, until I fell off and almost broke my arm," she replied, playfully punching Joel in the arm.

Then, the woman leaned in close to Joel and whispered something in his ear. You couldn't hear what she said, but Joel's eyes widened, and he let out a low chuckle.

She leaned back in her seat. "What do you say, cowboy?" she asked, winking at him.

The credits rolled and the lights came on, and you quickly stood up and you couldn’t wait to get out of there. You couldn't bear to be in the same room as Joel and the woman any longer. You didn’t care how childish you were behaving or if somebody would notice your weird behavior. The jealousy and hurt were too much to bear in this moment.

You hugged Ellie tightly, not wanting to let go. "Thanks for inviting me, Ellie. I had a great time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie looked up at you with concern in her eyes. "Hey, you ok, right?" she asked, sensing that something was off.

You forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah, of course, Ellie Bellie. Just a little tired," you lied.

Joel and the woman looked over at you, and you nodded in their direction goodbye, unable to meet their gaze, and quickly made your way out of the hall.

Once outside, you steadied your breathing and tried to compose yourself. You felt foolish for letting your emotions get the best of you. Afterall, Joel was a free man, and he was entitled to date whoever he wanted. You knew this, but you still couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment and hurt.

Suddenly the sky opened up and it started to rain heavily. It felt like the world was crying with you. The raindrops were mixing with your tears, and you couldn't tell the difference between the two. The wind was picking up, and you felt cold to the bone. It was as if the weather knew the pain you were feeling and was trying to make it worse.

Your body was shaking uncontrollably, and you felt foolish for thinking that there could have been something between you and Joel. How could you be so naive? Joel was just being kind to you, and you misinterpreted his kind gestures and turned it in some twisted delusional romantic idea.

How pathetic of you for even considering the possibility that Joel might have had feelings for you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together as the rain continues to beat down on you.

At the end of the day, Joel Miller, was nothing more than your stupid little crush.

Part 2

#joel miller fic #pedro pascal #aesthetic #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #pedro is daddy #pedro almodóvar #pedrohub #pedro gonzalez #jealousy

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five-rivers · 18 days

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 17

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Danny reappeared in the entryway of Clockwork’s house in a swirl of blue. He met Clockwork’s eyes for just a moment and saw the muted concern in them.

He couldn’t stand it.

He darted to the side and made for the stairs.

“Daniel–” said Clockwork, behind him, but he ignored him.

He reached his bedroom and dove under the covers of the bed, wrapping himself up in the quilt, because he missed grabbing the sheet underneath it. He pressed the nearest pillow into his face and tried to stop crying.

“Daniel,” repeated Clockwork softly from near the doorway. Danny hadn’t closed the door.

Danny shook his head. Whatever Clockwork wanted right now, Danny just couldn’t–

The edge of the bed sank down as Clockwork sat on it. He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It will be alright, Daniel. You are safe here.”

“You know– You know what they did.”

“I do.”

“How could you just let me– How could you let me go there?”

Clockwork sighed. “I am bound by the limits of the role I have taken on. I could not tell you.”

Typical. Danny rubbed angrily at his eyes. “How did I get away? Do you know?”

“I know,” said Clockwork. He didn’t say anything else.

“But you can’t tell me, is that it?”

“If I were to tell you,” said Clockwork, carefully, “I would be removed from my current role and replaced by someone… less able. The Observants are ever eager to exert control.”

Danny sniffled. Clockwork’s explanation was reasonable, from a certain perspective. It still hurt.

“Why did they do it?” asked Danny. “They said they wanted to understand, but they– Who could do that if they wanted to understand?”

“I cannot say that I understand their motives,” said Clockwork. “I certainly couldn’t imagine acting like that.” He began rubbing a small circle into Danny’s back. “But you need never see them again, if that is your wish.”

A sob caught in Danny’s throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he had twisted around to throw himself into Clockwork’s arms. Clockwork received him with a remarkable amount of grace.

“I don’t know why– I don’t– Why I’m acting like this, I barely know them, knew them, it shouldn’t feel like–” He didn’t know how to describe it. “I don’t know why.”

“The why of it does not matter so much as the fact that you do feel that way,” said Clockwork, continuing to pat Danny’s back.

“It matters to me.”

“Ah, I see,” said Clockwork, soothingly. “I’m sorry. Of course it matters to you. Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny.

“No, no,” said Clockwork, “it’s quite alright.”

“I’m crying on you.”

“It’s fine,” said Clockwork. “Tears wash out.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You learned about something very upsetting. This is natural.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“It still happened, and is responsible for your present circumstances. It’s alright to cry. I will be here.”

“I made oatmeal today,” said Clockwork, putting a steaming bowl down in front of Danny. “I thought that something simple would be best, after last night.”

Danny grunted and picked up a spoon to stir the oatmeal. It wasn’t as simple as all that, really. Clockwork had put raisins and cinnamon sugar in it. It probably tasted just as good as all the other food Clockwork had made for him.

“I’m supposed to choose now,” said Danny, listlessly.

“This is the stage of the trial where you choose, but you need not do so immediately. I cannot advise you on how to choose, or how to weigh your options, but it would not be out of the question for you to contemplate the matter for several days.”

“Right,” said Danny. He scrubbed at his face. Even after he’d sent Clockwork away, he’d cried on and off all night. His skin around his eyes felt grainy and salty. “What happens, when I choose? Do you just teleport me back and the doors start working again? And I, um, get my memory back?”

“That is a portion of it,” said Clockwork. He sat down at the table across from Danny. “First, however, the power involved in the ritual that is the trial would coalesce into a bond between you and your chosen guardian. This would include the power involved in altering your form, so you would shortly thereafter regain your original appearance.”

“I kind of like the ears and tail, though.” He ran his hands over his ears reflexively. “They’re fluffy.”

Clockwork smiled. “There are ways you can either regain or retain them. Once that has occurred, the Observants will come to return your memories, and, finally, you will be escorted to your guardian.”

“Huh,” said Danny. He poked at the oatmeal some more.

“You should eat,” said Clockwork, gently.

Danny sighed, and did his best.

“I should make a list,” said Danny, having given up on breakfast.

“Of what?” asked Clockwork.

“Names,” said Danny. “Of people. Choices.”

“You already have one of those,” Clockwork pointed out. “In the folder.”

“Oh. Yeah. Where did that get to, anyway?”

Clockwork slid it across the table, along with a pencil.

“Thanks,” said Danny. He flipped the folder open. “I guess I can start by crossing off the people I’m definitely not going to choose.”

“That seems like a logical way to proceed,” agreed Clockwork.

“So. Not the Observants, obviously.”

He looked up at Clockwork out of the corner of his eye. He could swear he’d seen him smirk at that pronouncement. Just a little.

“And not Skulker, Ember, and Technus,” he continued, moving down to the next entry he could safely cross out. “And not, and not, um. Not Jack and Maddie. Those’re– those are the ones I can’t, who won’t, um. Yeah.” He looked at the rest of the list. “Vlad is okay, but he lied to me a bunch, and I don’t really get why we were enemies, so when I get my memory back, I might hate him again, so not him. Jazz…”

Danny licked his lips and tapped the eraser of the pencil against the table. He liked Jazz. And she was his sister. Given everything else, he could sort of understand why she was lying, but… No. Vlad had a point, saying that he shouldn’t choose her.

“Not Jazz,” said Danny, finally. “I don’t want to do that to her. Which leaves Pandora and Frostbite.”

“A difficult decision indeed.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. He sighed. Either one of them would be good. Different. Very different. The culture shock would be hard. Ancient Greece and the Far Frozen were both very different from what he was used to. But Frostbite and Pandora would take care of him, and that’s what really mattered, in the end.

But he had to wonder if there wasn’t another option.

“Clockwork, you knew me before, didn’t you?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Right. But Jazz knew you, which sort of implies that I knew you. So. You knew me.” Danny bit his lower lip, thinking. “You, um. Why didn’t you join in? As a guardian, I mean. Why didn’t you, um. Apply? Is that the right term?”

“It’s as good as any.” Clockwork leaned back in his chair. “There are still limits on what I can tell you.”

“Yeah, but tell me what you can tell me.”

“If I were to adopt a child,” said Clockwork. “Any child, not necessarily you; you understand that I cannot speak of such specifics.”

“Right,” said Danny.

“But, if I were to try to adopt a child, the Observants would be very cross with me.”

“Why?”

“Because my responsibilities to such a child would supercede my oaths and duties to them. They would not appreciate the loss of control, and would do everything in their power to prevent it.”

“Like, by making you be a neutral party. Taking you out of the running.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork. “That would be something they might do.”

Danny fidgeted with the edge of the paper folder. “If you– Did you– Would you have applied? If you could? You know, hypothetically.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, simply.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Then… Then, if I… I can choose anyone, can’t I? Anyone I want, right?”

“Correct,” said Clockwork. “That is the base rule upon which this whole trial is based.”

“So… what happens if I do? If I, um, if I choose you?”

“That would be a nonstandard ending to the trial,” said Clockwork. “It would not end as smoothly, perhaps, as it normally would. The pathways that the power involved would travel upon may be confused. You may not regain your original form. The Observants would certainly withhold your memories.”

“And that would be… bad,” said Danny. “That would be…” He shook himself all over. “I, um. I don’t think…” He faltered, looking down at his hands. “That wouldn’t be much of a loss. Really.”

“Fifteen years of memories is not insignificant,” said Clockwork, a note of warning in his voice. “This is not a decision to make lightly. It will affect your entire life. There may even be other side effects that I have not listed. Things that even I cannot foresee.”

“I don’t think I want to remember. Not if it means remember what…” He swallowed, with difficulty. If what had been written in that binder had actually happened, he didn’t want to remember it. “I’ve been thinking about this decision for months, right? Every moment I remember. I’m not making it lightly. I know how important it is.”

Clockwork inclined his head towards Danny, acknowledging the point.

“Pandora and Frostbite are great, but…” Danny took a deep breath. “But it’s you. I choose you.” He braced himself preparing for rejection. A sort of tension built inside his chest until the feeling scraped the edge of pain.

Then Clockwork was next to him and reached out to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. “Oh, Daniel,” he said.

The tension abruptly collapsed, and Danny let himself fall forward, into Clockwork’s arms. Clockwork carded a gloved hand through Danny’s hair, ruffling his ears.

“It’s okay, right? It’s okay for me to choose you.”

“Of course it is,” said Clockwork. “Of course. I cannot tell you how glad I am.”

“But you can tell me other things, though, right? You’re not neutral anymore.”

“Quite right,” said Clockwork, and Danny could hear a smile in his voice. “I have so many things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” asked Danny, settling his head against Clockwork’s collarbone. Or whatever ghosts had instead of collarbones.

“All sorts,” said Clockwork. He chuckled. “You’ll be able to see my actual lair.”

“Is it purple, too?”

“You’ll see.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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zepskies · 11 months

Text

If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks.

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her.

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you.

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think.

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him.

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps.

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling.

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.”

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch.

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel.

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car?

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

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vaspider · 5 months

Note

Spider!! Hola :)

So I know I came back way too early this time but with this whole situation we lost sight that 2 of the affected family members will be having their bdays.

So, if you don't feel comfortable with us asking so soon for a boost I do come asking for a fool proof apple pie recipe.

We're short on money so gifts are out of the question, but I could make them something tasty, and they have always wanted to try apple pie.

There are many recipes on the internet but I need one even I, who have never baked a pie, can bake.

Hope it's not a weird petition, I just remembered you have valuable experience in the recipes department.

Thanks for taking time to read our ask, please stay safe!

If you're looking for foolproof, I would actually skip over Apple pie as a starting point & I would instead go for an apple crisp.

A crisp is much easier to make - pastry can be really finicky if you aren't familiar with how to make it, whereas a crisp you just mix together all the good stuff that makes a tasty topping and you are good to go.

Easy Apple Crisp

Ingredients

1/2c butter, cold (do not take out to soften like you would for cookies)

6 apples (Granny Smith, Fuji, Pink Lady, or similar. NOT RED DELICIOUS.)

2T granulated sugar

2t pumpkin pie spice (or cinnamon, if that's what you've got, but I find that using pumpkin pie spice is just... better... if you can)

2t lemon juice

1c light brown sugar, lightly packed

1c old-fashioned rolled oats

1c all-purpose flour (if using gluten-free flour, that's fine - you don't need to add xanthan gum for this recipe)

1/2c chopped walnuts or pecans

1/2c craisins (technically optional, but don't skip)

Pinch kosher salt

Equipment

2 medium-sized mixing bowls

Sharp knife

Cutting board

2 large spoons for mixing

1 small bowl for butter

Method

Wash hands thoroughly before beginning. You should do this every time you cook or bake, but especially this time, bc we will be handling a lot of the ingredients directly.

Cut butter into small cubes. Put into small bowl and place back into refrigerator to keep cold until needed.

Preheat oven to 350°. Spray 8" baking dish with non-stick cooking spray or grease with butter. Set aside.

Core and chop apples into large bite-sized pieces, about as big across as a nickel. Some people peel the apples. I don't. I think that's a lot of extra work to eliminate a great source of fiber & flavor. Place apples in one of the mixing bowls. Add lemon juice, granulated sugar, 1t of the pumpkin pie spice. Stir until combined, then pour into prepared baking dish.

If you prefer smaller bits, lightly chop the craisins. I like them full-sized, personally.

Put the rest of the ingredients except the butter - craisins, chopped nuts, brown sugar, flour, oats, 1t pie spice, salt - into the 2nd bowl and stir to combine.

Get the butter out of the fridge. Work it into the dry ingredients with your fingers until you have pea-sized crumbs. You can also use a fork or two knives for this or a pastry blender if you're very posh, but I really prefer using my hands. It's easier, and you get better texture, IMO.

Spread evenly over apple mix. Even it out a bit with the back of one of your mixing spoons. Don't leave any big gaps, but also don't press down on the mix at all.

Bake for 40-50 minutes or until the topping is golden brown and the apple/sugar mix bubbles up at the corners of the dish.

Notes

This recipe is specifically written with round amounts to make it easy to size up or down! You can halve this or double it. Doubling it should make about enough to fill a 13 x 9 casserole dish.

Make sure to adjust your cooking time if you adjust the size!

If you have small oven-safe bowls or ramekins, you can divide this between those ramekins instead. If you do this, DON'T heap up the topping higher than the top of the dish. It gets very easy to spill.

Like technically you don't HAVE to use the nuts or craisins but ... why would you want to skip those? THE FLAVOR!!

If you really prefer raisins I guess you can use those. I hate raisins, and also craisins add a tart element which makes the dish really delightful and more complex IMO.

You can make a crisp like this with lots of different fruit! This recipe works pretty much exactly the same if you substitute in 4-5c of blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, or pears. You may want to fiddle with the amount of white sugar or the spices, but yeah. Once you know this recipe, it's a good basic dessert recipe that you can use for a lot of fruit!

If using berries, make sure to rinse them very well with cold water and inspect for any spots of mold. Supermarket berries get moldly REALLY fast. If possible, buy berries from chain supermarkets the day you're going to use them, and check berries in the store. Open the containers, don't be shy. Nothing sucks more than wasting money from your grocery budget and realizing when you get home that you bought moldy berries.

Enjoy!

#my peasant roots let me show you them #baking

99 notes · View notes

piedpiperart · 10 months

Text

Phantom of Gotham 16

Chapter 15

Danny woke up not long after he fell asleep. And wasn’t that weird? He wasn’t sure what the change was but he’d been sleeping a lot more lately. Was it because he didn’t have ghosts to fight all the time? Or school, considering they had a bit of a winter break right now with the blizzard. He figured they’d be going back to school tomorrow or the day after at the latest, because the snow had already started to melt significantly. Danny wasn’t really sure what that was about but he figured it might be a Gotham thing.

Upon waking up, he’d immediately noticed the warm body next to him, and his face grew warm with embarrassment. He was more or less leaning most of his body over- yep that was Tim. He was surprisingly comfortable, and his core preened at his friend getting some much-needed sleep. Danny had noticed the dark bags under his eyes, and frankly horrifying coffee addiction. Even when Danny had subtly made Tim’s coffee go cold the boy still gulped it down like he was starving.

Looking at the sleeping body pressed against him, Danny preened at the fact that his coffee-stealing had paid off. Sure, he’d probably have to fetch the coffee cups out of the walls, but it was worth it. Tim did not need to drink so much coffee, and it was obvious that no one else in his family was going to put a stop to it. He’d have the twelve cups a day whittled down to three in no time. Mostly due to ghostly interference, but Danny could admit he needed superpowers to fight Tim on this one.

Slowly, Danny creeped out of the little blanket cuddle huddle with a subtle use of his intangibility to keep from waking Tim and placed the blanket more securely around Tim. After a moment, he also phased the game controller out of where it was digging into Tim’s ribs and put it on the coffee table. Satisfied with his work, Danny pulled out his phone to check the time, and to his relief, he didn’t need to get to the warehouse just yet.

Glancing periodically back to Tim snoring softly on the couch, Danny made his way to the kitchen. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes while he padded down the hall in Tim’s fluffy Superman socks. He made his way to the kitchen only to find no one but Alfred there, puttering about and making what looked like oatmeal cookies. Danny grimaced. Chocolate chips were better, he reasoned.

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

Tim woke up with a start, finding himself surprisingly warm. Glancing around, he could tell he was on the couch in the game room. Alone. His stomach rumbled lightly and Tim assumed Danny had gotten hungry and left. Slowly, stretching his limbs until he heard a few concerning cracks, he shuffled his way to the kitchen. He checked his phone, noting that he’d missed dinner. They must have let him sleep, he figured, but couldn’t argue with how rested he felt.

“What if we make ones with oatmeal and chocolate chips?” Tim heard Danny voice from his spot outside the kitchen door. Amused, he pushed the door open to see Danny at the counter with what looked like leftovers from dinner, the boy gesturing with his fork towards where Alfred was baking cookies.

“Ah, Master Timothy. Have a seat, your food will be ready in a moment,”Alfred gestured. His lips were tilted up with amusement the moment Danny piped up again.

“I can make chocolate chip cookies,”Danny reasoned. “My sisters like it when I make them. I can share my secret recipe with you if you don’t put oatmeal in them.”

Alfred’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he placed a heated plate of vegetables and meat in front of Tim. Tim nodded in thanks, turning to Danny. “Is this another toast situation? I promise Alfred’s oatmeal cookies are really good.”

“I’m sure they are,”Danny placated,”But I’m just saying they’d be better with chocolate chips instead of raisins,” He said, shuddering at the word raisin.

“If it would appease you Master Daniel,”Alfred said, noting the flinch and grimace Danny made at the name,”I shall make half with raisin and half with chocolate.”

Danny thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

“And then we can mix them up for everyone else so they don’t know which is which,"Tim added helpfully. Danny beamed at him.

“Exactly!” Danny cheered. Tim knew for a fact that most of the manor wouldn’t mind either option, but Dick would. Over the years Tim has found that Dick’s sweet tooth has left him easily susceptible to food-based pranks. In his early years, Jason apparently utilized this tactic constantly.

Tim picked up his coffee mug and made a face when he realized it was tea. Alfred, most likely. “Thanks for the food Alfred, I’m gonna head to bed a bit early today,”Danny said, dropping his dishes in the sink. “The nap earlier kinda tired me out,”He added, patting Tim on the back on his way out. Tim opted to finish his plate before asking Alfred about the rest of the family.

“Alf-”Tim started when he’d gotten up to put his plate away, only for Alfred to cut him off.

“You’ll find the rest of the family in the cave,”Alfred raised a brow. “They’re reviewing some concerning discoveries about Danny and getting ready for the meeting with Phantom.”

“Oh, great,”Tim said, pulling out his phone and pre-emptively sending his research and plans about how to make a treaty with people from another dimension to the batcomputer. He ignored the sting of being left out of the family gathering, but he brushed it off as spending time with Danny instead. Besides, now he felt refreshed. If only he had some coffee…

Making his way to the cave, he immediately heard arguing and sighed. Maybe it was better that he’d gotten some peace and quiet before dealing with this, he reasoned. He miserably sipped his thermos full of…tea… and made his way to the batcomputer.

“Okay, so we just have to do the treaty thing first and then get more information on Danny,”Jason gestured. Most of them were already in costume, minus Dick, who was without a domino.

“It’s more than a simple treaty, Todd,”Damian scoffed.

“Enough,”Bruce chimes in gruffly.”This is just a meeting to negotiate. Since the Fenton’s and the GIW are committing interdimensional war crimes, we’ll have to bring this to the Justice League eventually.”

“You think the Green Lanterns are going to intervene?”Dick pondered aloud, and Batman’s mouth twitched down. Tim could tell it was because Bruce didn’t like dealing with Hal Jordan. Or any other lantern, really.

“They shouldn’t have to if we manage to keep things civil here,”Tim chimed in from his spot at the batcomputer, startling a few of them of his presence. “Assuming the Ghost King just wants the human realm to stop hunting them and poking holes into their dimension, we can take over with charging the necessary parties responsible. Though, we don’t know what kind of resources or information the Infinite Realms have, so this could possibly be a good thing for Earth.”

“How was your nap?” Jason cooed, and Tim frowned exasperatedly. Sometimes he wonders why he hasn't moved out yet.

“It was fine. Danny’s purring lulled me to sleep in minutes,”Tim deadpanned.

“Awww, I can’t believe I didn’t get to see it in person!” Dick complained. “Do you think Phantom purrs? That would be adorable.”

“Timothy has stated that all ghosts are likely to purr,”Damian stated. “I assume they only do it when they feel safe and comfortable, which is unlikely for Phantom to do around vigilantes.”

“I bet I could do it,”Dick grumbled to himself. “Ten bucks to the next person who can make a ghost- or Danny- purr.”

“Bet,”Tim smirked. What can he say, he’s a bit competitive.

Bruce sighed at their shenanigans. “Tim, get in uniform.”

“All of us are going?” Dick bounced. “So early?”

“We’re setting up,”Batman grunted.

“Ah, contingency plans,”Jason sighed. “I for one, trust Phantom. Sure, maybe the other ghosts aren’t so great, but the kid wouldn’t do anything bad on purpose. Hell, he’s stuck in Gotham just to protect Danny.”

“Can never be too careful,”Damian tuts.

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

Flying out as Phantom, Danny made it to the agreed upon warehouse in record time. Okay, so he got a little lost, but it was fine. He made it early, even. The warehouse was already full of bats, Danny smiled at the pun, and he could even see Robin from where he was phasing through the roof. He observed them for a few minutes, taking in the familiarity of their banter. It reminded him of the Wayne kids a lot. If he thought about it, there was probably one bat to each Wayne, he mused, shaking his head.

Danny took a breath to steady his nerves, and flew down to meet everyone. Batman was first to register his presence by the way he stiffened. Danny wasn’t really sure how, but he figured his nerves were making the air around them a bit colder. “Hey,”Danny called, popping into existence. The five vigilantes turned towards him, a few taking stances.

“Hey Phantom,”Red Robin called, making his way over. The rest followed, and Nightwing in particular looked excited.

“Oh my gosh, you’re adorable!” Nightwing cheered, and bounced into Danny’s personal space. Danny floated back a bit, amused but nervous. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.”

“Uh, you too,”Phantom said, rubbing the back of his neck. He nodded to Robin and Batman, who didn’t move much.

“So, if you’re serious about an alliance, I figured we should probably start small with ghosts to meet,”Danny said, rambling a bit at the attention.

“We’ll follow your lead on this one kid,”Red Hood said, and that made Danny relax. No pressure, he reminded himself.

“Alright, well, for starters, I need you to hold onto this,”Phantom instructed, pulling out what looked like a regular stick from off the ground. He passed it to Hood, who seemed exasperated yet curious.

Phantom turned to the rest of them, “Stay where you are and don’t make sudden movements until I calm him down.” And before anyone could process that sentence, Phantom let out an ear-piercing whistle.

The bats exchanged glances, and nothing seemed to happen for a moment as Phantom floated in the center of the warehouse. Just when Dick shifted to say something, a bright green, swirling hole opened up in front of Phantom, getting bigger and bigger by the second. Hood, recognizing that particular shade of green, took a step back. Phantom only seemed to have eyes for the swirling portal.

Once the portal got to a worrying 16 feet in diameter, the bats startled as a loud bark echoed around the warehouse. Tim was maybe starting to think this whole thing might be a bad idea when he spotted something large and green coming out of the portal. It looked… like a dog?

Once the massive beast stepped through the portal, Phantom proceeded to fling himself at the giant green dog. “Cujo!” He exclaimed, the green fur practically hiding him. “I missed you boy!” Phantom cheered, petting him vigorously. The bats collectively took a breath of relief.

Then, surprising all of them, Phantom floated back from the excited, slobbering dog. “Can you shrink for me buddy?” He asked in a babying voice, and Cujo gave another deafening bark before shrinking to a tiny little dog that was floating around Phantom happily. “Good boy! Now, I want you to meet someone so behave.”

Phantom gathered the tiny wigging dog in his arms as the portal vanished, and brought the two of them to the warehouse floor. Phantom’s white boots were glowing against the concrete as he stepped closer to the Bats. Tim noted fondly that Phantom was practically beaming as he held his ghost dog.

“Okay, so, this is Cujo,”Phantom gestured with his arms, not bothered when Cujo licked his face at the movement. “He’s a ghost dog, obviously, and he’s got a thing for playing in the human realm sometimes. My job is usually to take him back home when this happens, because, well, you saw how big he can get.”

“How many other ghosts can make portals themselves?” Batman asked, and Phantom tilted his head.

“Two or three that I’ve met. I know some that are probably strong enough to make them, but just don’t leave, so I’m not sure exactly,”Phantom said, and at Batman’s stare, he sighed. “I’m still learning.”

Ah, Tim thought. That explained why he brought Cujo first. He had to admit, the dog was cute. Phantom kind of reminded Tim of show and tell with the little presentation he had going on. “It’s easy to get Cujo to do what you want when you understand what he wants. The Fentons, however, just shoot at him and try to trap him, which just makes him get big and then people get hurt,”Danny said. “If there’s an alliance, there needs to be protections to prevent Cujo from hurting people, but also to prevent people from hurting Cujo. It’s hard to keep him in the zone, cuz he can just leave whenever he wants. Since not a lot of ghosts can do that though, you won’t have to worry much about other ghosts coming and going.”

“What sort of powers does Cujo have?” Red Robin piped in from where he was taking notes.

“He has the basic skills of a ghost, which is flight, increased strength, intangibility, and invisibility. What makes him unique is the portal thing, a ghostly bark, and the bigger form. Not a lot of ghosts can do that stuff,”Phantom listed. “Usually ghosts will also have some form of ecto-blast too, but I’m not sure if Cujo has one.”

“Ecto-blast?” Batman grunted, and Danny perked up, before glancing at his hands that were busy holding Cujo.

“Uh, yeah,”Danny muttered, stepping to Robin. “Here, hold him for a minute,” Danny said, dumping Cujo gently in Robin’s arms. Dick was worried for a moment before he saw how positively excited Damian was to be holding a ghost dog, and he almost laughed when Cujo immediately started licking his face.

Meanwhile, Phantom held up a hand and generated a small glowing ball the same color as the portal. “All ghosts are more or less made of ectoplasm, so we can generate it into concentrated blasts.” He then demonstrated by firing a small blast to the floor opposite to everyone. It reminded Dick of Starfire’s energy beams.

“What other powers do you have?” Tim asked.”You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, it’s cool,”Phantom waved.”Some abilities are unique to the ghost. For me, I have an ice core, so I can generate ice. But Technus has an electric core and Jonny has a shadow core so they both have different abilities.”

“So ghosts are like pokemon,”Hood commented and Danny shot him an exasperated look. He kind of wasn’t wrong though.

“So Danny has an ice core?” Robin asked, and Phantom froze. How did he- Danny had only told Damian that and- Did he- “I’ve seen him make snowballs with his powers, and he is unaffected by the cold.”

“Is an ice core common?” Red Robin piped in. Phantom’s eyes widened as all the dots in his head connected. Damian is Robin. That meant… Tim is Red Robin. Dick is.. Nightwing? And that leaves Jason for Hood and Batman as Bruce. Woah.

“Uh,”Phantom stammered. “No? Maybe? I’m not really sure. Some ghost cores like Ice and electricity and fire are obvious, but then other times I have no idea how to classify a ghost. Sometimes only the strongest ones have specific cores, while the weaker ones don’t. Take Cujo for example, I have no idea what kind of core he has.”

A glance towards Cujo and the dog preened at the attention. Yeah, Tim could understand the reasoning there. Robin was still absently petting him.”And can all ghosts purr?” Dick added.

Phantom choked on air for a moment before he croaked out a,”What?”

“We just assumed, since Danny can purr,”Damian scoffed, but he looked interested in the answer.

When did I- Danny thought frantically before he figured it must have been when he was sleeping in the game room. He couldn’t help it, it was just comfortable and warm, and he’d only ever purred around Tucker, Sam, or Jazz before. He abruptly realized that he’d gotten comfortable enough around the Waynes that he’d purred.

Phantom took a breath, pushing those thoughts far back into his mind. “Yes, ghosts purr when their core, uh, hums or vibrates or something. It usually happens around family or friends when they’re relaxed though.”

“Aright, so what can we expect from the stronger ghosts?” Red Robin asked.

“As I said, the abilities of a ghost are unique to the ghost. Cores are a way to determine that, but also obsessions,”Danny continued. “It’s rude to ask about obsessions like it is to ask how a ghost died, but usually it’s pretty obvious when you meet them. Technus is a ghost obsessed with technology and inventing, so usually when he comes to the human realm he goes into the powerlines, or steals computers and stuff. Ember was a singer when she was alive, and she has an obsession with being remembered, so she has the power to hypnotize with her guitar. Stuff like that.”

“You said Ember was a singer? Were all ghosts alive in the human realm before?” Dick chimed in. The unspoken, were you alive before was something Danny chose to ignore.

“Ectoplasm is largely made up of emotions, which can form from basically anything, including a human who had a pretty big obsession with something when they died. But no, ghosts can also have ghost kids with other ghosts, or things like shadow or blob ghosts can just form from a bunch of strong emotions,”Phantom said.

“Wait- ghosts can-”Nightwing sputtered. “Ghosts can have kids?? How??”

“When a ghost loves another ghost very much-” Phantom smirked but was cut off by Hood’s bark of laughter. “But yeah, Lunch Lady and Boxy had a kid, so I know it’s possible but not too sure about the specifics- and please don’t make me think about it longer than I have to.”

“That’s fair,”Dick nodded.

“Alright,”Phantom clapped. “Introductions and explanations done, any more questions before I grab some regents?”

“So many,”Red Robin muttered, typing on his computer almost violently. Danny worried about him, he really did. Course, he was still reeling over the discovery that Tim was actually a vigilante, and now that he thought about it, the lack of sleep Tim got made sense now. He just resolved to push all thoughts of the Wayne-Bats to the back of his mind and deal with it later.

Batman gave a look, and Phantom stretched his hands out,”Alright then, for me to find a regent I’ll have to go into the realms and get him. Does anyone want to come with me? It’s a hundred percent safe and we’ll be gone for like, twenty minutes. Probably. Maybe thirty.”

“Into the realms?” Nightwing echoed.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,”Phantom reassured. “I just thought I’d ask. Electronics don’t work through the portal and it’s pretty cold where he lives, but other than that you’ll be fine.”

“Can I come?” Red Robin raised his hand, and the bats gave him a look. “What? I wanna go explore the Infinite Realms.”

“You sure it’s cool with the Ghost King?” Hood asked, and Phantom grinned.

“Oh yeah, totally. He knows we’re meeting and everything,” Phantom said. “And Cujo can stay here so you can observe ghost dog behavior or something. If he gets rowdy just have Hood throw the stick for him.”

Batman sighed, knowing no amount of arguing would persuade his most curious son when the opportunity to research something was offered,”Twenty minutes,” He grumbled.

“Sweet,”Red Robin grinned, bounding over to Phantom.

“I’ll give you the ghostly tour,”Phantom beamed, floating to the center of the warehouse. It took a minute, but the kid clawed through the air with a bit of difficulty. “Ta da!” He chimed when a smaller portal opened up.

“I thought you needed Cujo to open a portal for you,”Red Robin commented, and Phantom shrugged.

“I’m still learning, but since he already opened one up here it’s easier for me to just re-open it,”Phantom said, pointed teeth shining through his grin. “Now, hold onto me and don’t let go. I don’t want you getting lost and ending up in Walker’s prison or your pelt on someone's wall.”

“What?” The bat family heard Tim say before the portal closed around them.

“So… that happened,”Hood broke the silence. Batman turned to type things on his computer while Dick bounded over to where Damian was giving Cujo some love. Hood kept a hold on the dumb stick and made his way over to the duo.

Jason had to admit, the tiny green dog was cool. He reached over to let him sniff his hand before running it down the dog’s back. It felt like petting a cloud, not very solid but still there. Fuzzy around the edges, Jason thought.

“I can’t believe we just let Red Robin explore an entire dimension by himself,”Dick fretted, petting Cujo a bit frantically until Damian gave him a look. Cujo seemed content in Damian’s arms, occasionally licking whoever came close to his face.

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Phantom will take care of him,”Jason replied, fiddling with the stick. He kind of wanted to see what would happen if he threw it for the dog.

“I believe Phantom has an obsession with some kind of protection aspect,”Damian scoffed. “Red Robin will be fine.”

“Maybe we should take a vacation into the Infinite Realms after this,”Jason mused. Though, after seeing the glowing green swirling portal so similar to the lazarus pits, he wasn’t so sure. At that moment though, Cujo started getting restless.

The dog squirmed in Damian’s arms, much to the boy's disappointment. Before Damian could set him down, he was shocked when the dog just phased through his arms and floated around the group. Jason grinned, holding up the stick.

“Here boy, want the stick?” Jason said, brandishing the stick in front of the dog to catch his attention. Ears perked up, and Cujo barked, though not as loudly as before. “Fetch!” Jason called, and the dog dashed through the air after the stick when Jason threw it clear across the whole warehouse.

The three of them busied themselves with playing fetch with the ghost dog until a familiar portal opened up in the middle of the warehouse. Phantom stepped through first Red Robin following, though they saw him asking Phantom a million questions about the zone. Everyone in the warehouse let out a sigh of relief, seeing Tim in one piece. The only thing different was his face was flushed and smiling and his hair was more of a mess than usual. Phantom on the other hand, looked the same as before he left. Behind Phantom, a tall, broad, ghost walked through the portal, looking like what one would describe as a yeti.

Cujo bounded up to them excitedly while Tim rattled off more questions, oblivious to the other bats. “No, well, I’m not sure,”Phantom was saying,”Frostbite?” He said, turning to the yeti.

The guy- Frostbite- looked fond and amused at the two,”Most ghosts have a haunt, or share one. Phantom, I suspect yours is the human realm,”Frostbite chuckled at the bewildered expression on Phantom’s face. “Now, I assume you’re the Bat Man?”

“Just Batman is fine,”Bruce nodded respectfully. “This is Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, and you’ve met Red Robin,”Batman introduced. Frostbite nodded at the kids gracefully. The two ghosts were glowing eerily, but Frostbite seemed a little more solid than Phantom.

“I am frostbite, leader of the Far Frozen and one of the regents for King Phantom,”Frostbite introduced, and the bats froze.

“Dude, you’re the Ghost King?” Red Robin accused, giving Phantom a look. Phantom just groaned.

“Yeah, yeah I’m the Ghost King, whatever,”Phantom muttered. Frostbite giving him a sympathetic yet amused look. “Thanks a lot Frostbite.”

“How?? Why??” Dick exclaimed, and Phantom sighed.

“Long story short I beat up the old Ghost King for doing bad things and that made me Ghost King by default except I’m not really- uh- old enough to be King yet so Frostbite and CW and a few others are ruling as a council until I’m ready or whatever,”Phantom huffed. “It’s not really important because I don’t really make decisions about anything and I have absolutely no idea how a treaty alliance thing works.”

Ah, well, Dick could understand that. Still. “Guess we have to call you your highness now, huh?” He responded.

“No,”Phantom groaned, putting a hand to his face. Meanwhile, Frostbite and Batman made their way to the side to continue the grown up conversation. Ugh, paperwork, Danny shuddered. “Call me that and I’ll haunt you forever.”

This time, Cujo found a spot in Jason’s arms as the teens and Dick conversed. He pet the ghost dog absently as the three called Phantom anything between Supreme Emperor to Princess. For the first time in a while, he was actually glad to find an easy mission like this to bide their time. Sure, he knew the legal stuff might take a while, but it was unlikely that they’d end up in any kind of invasion-scenario. He was almost relaxed in the present company.

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

Batman was surprised the alliance was going so well. While he was surprised Phantom turned out to be the Ghost King, he was relieved he had at least a good judge of character for the kid going forward. In addition, Frostbite was surprisingly helpful.

The two mentors discussed policies on ghosts who end up in the human realm, sentience laws that needed changed, and much to his surprise the Yeti offered to share advanced technology and lost human artifacts. Batman considered all of these good points, and knew they could hash out the intricate details like researching the Infinite Realms and so on later. For now their main priority was overturning the anti-ecto acts, protections for halfas, getting the two known portals shut down or at least confiscated, charges against the GIW and Fentons, and setting up a safe way for ghosts to be sent back to the zone.

Bruce was relieved that Frostbite was so logical about everything. It made negotiations far simpler, and he found himself learning a lot about ghost habits and biology. It amazed him at how much trust they were putting in him and he vowed not to let them down. Frostbite was definitely not what he’d been expecting, but he was pleasantly surprised. He wondered how many ghosts resided in the realms, what their society is like. He’d have to read Tim’s report about what he found on his tour with Phantom. And then lecture him on taking unnecessary risks.

Two hours later, they had a plan. Phantom and Red Robin had apparently searched the warehouse for boxes and brought two to Frostbite, who smiled at their antics. When the group asked Tim about it later he said they had run into the Box Ghost on the way to Frostbite and Tim had promised him a box. They weren’t really sure if Tim was pranking them or not, but decided to change the subject.

When Frostbite disappeared into the portal with Cujo, they turned to find Phantom had disappeared as well.

Chapter 17

#Phantom of gotham #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton

168 notes · View notes

fallout4-reacts · 9 months

Note

Oh! I have a fun idea! How would the companions react to sole going through some rubble and finding a former degree/award for some massive achievement that was prewar. Like sole finds some massive medical award and is like “oh yea. This was for that surgical technique I made up” or like a military award like “oh yes this was when I saved 4 guys from a bomb”

Sole demanded them to assist them in clearing out the house of anything that had not stood the test of time. They remove the shattered old furnishings from the master bedroom. Sturges might be able to assist with one or two repairs. When they drop a drawer, a plastic-coated document falls out. Sole rushes to hide it from their companion, but it is too late.

Cait : "Hold up, what's that I'm seein'?" she asks.

Sole replies with "nothing."

"It's a real big deal," Cait says as she takes the certificate from Sole's grasp. "Damn, I did know about this tournament! It was some fancy-pants international featherweight champion. I had no clue you were into the ring, darlin'! And here I was, thinking I was the one who fought for the both of us!"

Sole seemed to be really uneasy.

"It happened in college. I was actually at college. To pay for my studies, I had been fighting in the ring. It was... another era."

"Hold up, there's a difference between scrapping and scraping to fund your education and being the legendary international champion! Are ya still sportin' yer belt? "

"No. I sold it to put down the deposit on this house. And I assure you, it was nothing. I won luckily."

"Luckily?"

"Yeah. Just one foolish thing. I was fortunate in every bout. The guys had been drinking or cheating on their diet the night before. As a result of one thing leading to another, I was proclaimed champion."

"Without raisin' yer fists, huh?"

"Of course I raised my fists! I won by chance rather than by forfeit. But I'm sure I couldn't compete with opponents like yours."

"Still, it's bleedin' impressive.”

Sole grumbles as they stuffs the document into their bag.

"Are we moving this furniture, or are we still gossiping about things that are worth nothing?"

Cait snatches her side and says nothing. However, she vows to request lessons when Sole will be in a better mood.

Codsworth : "Ah, sir/madam, I must confess, I was not aware of your esteemed possession of an honorary doctorate of science!"

Sole specifies, "The most important word is honorific."

Codsworth grabs the document and holds it up to his ocular sensors. «They do not bestow honoris causa to simply please. What did you do?"

Sole appears irritated. They sets down their side of the furniture because Codsworth doesn't seem to be willing to let go.

"Ah, foolishness. I contributed to the concrete's resilience to salt action. Not much at all."

"Doth mine ears deceive me? Verily, I comprehend that this wondrous concoction of concrete hath indeed brought forth a grand revolution in the realm of construction. Yet, I beseech thee, should such an accomplishment truly warrant the bestowal of a doctorate?"

"I may have studied the radar and the atom... that may have prompted me to design a radio-localisation model as well as the practically autonomous extension of the atomic battery... which may have led to the final version of the Pip-Boy 2000 mark VI."

Codsworth perfectly imitates an impressed whistle.

«Just that, » he says ironically.

"Sturges will be waiting."

They takes their side of the furniture and Codsworth does the same.

Curie : "Is this a publication highlighting your remarkable achievements?"

Sole rushes to grab the document and hide it beneath their mattress, but Curie quickly catches it.

"Hero of the day?"

"Arf... good luck. Good time, good place. I was the first on the line when a man hit his tanker on the road. I assisted him in getting out of the cabin before everything blew up."

Curie is pleased by both the act and the modesty.

"It is documented that you valiantly ventured into the fiery depths of damnation to rescue this unfortunate soul."

"Journalists favour to exaggerate things. It wasn't quite as good."

"But the vehicle experienced a rather explosive event.”

"Like the grenades that lob at me all day long. Do we remove that piece of furniture or not?"

Curie adds nothing. Her long-held admiration for Sole, on the other hand, has only grown.

Danse : Sole quickly hides the document, but Danse sets the furniture down and crosses his arms.

" What is it, soldier? This appears to be of great significance."

"It is not."

A tiny smile is stretched out by the Brotherhoods.

"I have perused the text. However, I yearn to receive your words directly."

"I may have rescued a patrol during a military operation, and my unit just happened to need publicity. That kind of stuff happens all the time in a fighting era."

Danse takes the document from Sole's grasp. " The Medal of Honor, a symbol of unwavering valour and unyielding dedication to duty. Though it existed long before my existence, I am not oblivious to the profound significance that this esteemed recognition embodies."

"Well, it's nothing anymore, and it won't take my furniture out of the room."

"That doth epitomise the individual who didst cast themself into the fray, valiantly rescuing mine unit from a ravenous horde of feral ghouls.”

Sole growls and grips their side of the furniture once again. Danse sets the certificate on the bed and vows to persuade Sole to display it noticeably in the Prydwen dormitory.

Deacon : Deacon goes up to Sole and grabs the document to read. Sole tries to take it from him and follows what appears to be a tango.

“God! Gold? I never knew you were a spry athlete, pal.”

"Congress gold medal, nothing to do."

"Yup, ain't got nothin' to do with it, I see. Service to the country ain't no walk in the park, my friend.”

Sole finally gets the document out of his hands and throws it in the back of their closet.

"If you bring this to anyone...I swear..."

Deacon chuckles. Sole attempts to threaten him from time to time, but they are never successful. This time, however, they appears to be completely out of it.

"I swear to God, I'm leaving the RailRoad!"

The spy swallows slowly.

"Let's get a move on, this here's a real big deal. Why does you appear so ashamed of it?"

"Excellent service to the country. I created the radio guiding technology that was later used on the nuclear bomb. You know that thing that swept the country and ushered in our era?"

Deacon's brows appear over the lenses of his glasses.

"I ain't never gonna spill the beans to nobody...”

Dogmeat : He doesn't move furniture, and even if he falls on a document, it makes no difference to him. However, one evening while Sole is laying in their bed watching an old award, Dogmeat comes at the foot of the bed.

«Never tell anyone, buddy,» Sole murmurs, «but it was me who discovered this vaccine against the flu H6D20 during my master.»

In heaven, the dog wags his tail when Sole scratches his head.

Elder Maxson : Sole had offered to discuss troop rationing in exchange for a service, but Maxson had no idea that this service would consist of cleaning up a wrecked house. Then this document slid out of a drawer, and Maxson bent over to pick it up, discovering at the same time that he is helping to empty Sole's house, and that Sole is a former civilian hero, permitting the evacuation of roughly twenty citizens from a burning building at the risk of their life. He stares up at a snow-white Sole (despite though he has no idea what snow is).

“Sir…I'll explain."

"Explain me that you have comprehended our core values prior to being recruited into my organisation?"

"Sir, it didn't happen the way it was described in this article."

"Cease this, Knight. I have no tolerance for disingenuous humility. Embrace the recognition that has been bestowed upon you. "

Sole scowls and goes out of the room. Maxson follows them.

"Do I connect that this esteemed honor instills a sense of unease within your being? And what, pray tell, is the purpose of laminating it, then?"

Sole kicks a shard of metal that has fallen from the roof.

"Nora/Nate requested that we save this article to show our son later. I always thought it was silly, and I tried everything to get rid of it. I have just now discovered the hiding place that has been found to keep me from wiping its existence."

Maxson places his hand on the shoulder of his soldier. "Do not cringe in shame. Take pride in your unwavering commitment to righteousness and steadfast courage. That is what sets you apart within our ranks and renders you of great significance to me."

Sole becomes even more uneasy, so Maxson changes the subject. "So, what about the supplies?"

"I will give you whatever surplus my colonies have...but never talk about it again."

Maxson extends his hand. "We have an agreement, General."

Hancock : The ghoul turns and returns the document he stole from Sole, placing it on their bed's mattress. " What in the blazes is this?" he innocently wonders, even though he knows exactly what it is due to his broad pre-war knowledge.

“Hm…I jumped from a vessel into a port to save the daughter of a wealthy politician who had gone overboard her own shuttle. They made a fuss of it."

Hancock whistles between his teeth and takes a shot of Jet. "Copacetic! I reckon I'm acquainted with a genuine hero?"

"The only heroic act I can brag about," Sole interrupts, grabbing the newspaper. "it's to not having strangled you for all of the chem breaks you take instead of helping me."

Hancock chuckles and stands up. It is true that it is easy to divert his attention away from such a unpleasant activity.

Gage : Porter only groans and whines. Instead of cleaning a house, they should be conquering settlements. Despite this, he picks up the document from the ground and instantly realizes what he is holding in his hands. "...the President of the United States recognized their bravery..."

"You can read?"

Porter, somewhat offended, looks up at Sole. " Of course I can decipher the written word, friend. I have an aversion to perusing literature, but my maternal figure insisted on instilling some intellectual capacity within me. What's the dealio, pal?"

"There is no story. I hurried to save a senator who was crossing the street when a truck broke down. They made a spectacle of it."

Porter blows a whistle. "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch what you just said, but judging by your humble nature, I feel it must have been quite the substantial tale."

Sole mutters. "The sooner we get this piece of furniture out, the sooner we'll be able to go conquer settlements."

Porter agrees without further explanation.

MacCready (romanced) : "What's this now? Primetime Emmy award?"

"Nothing...really, and more nothing important today."

"But, still?"

The mercenary ignites the cigarette that has been put behind his ear, having all his time. Especially when he is not compensated for his services as a mover.

"At the start of my marriage, I was a TV show host for a few years." They gave me this award because they believed I was good. The trophy had to have been stolen by now, but the document had to have been hidden in that drawer by Nate/Nora."

"A trophy, huh? Like when ya win a real high-stakes game?"

Sole approaches the mercenary with a smile, wrapping their arms around his shoulders. "The only trophy that matters to me is a certain wooden statuette that was given to me on the day you opened your heart to mine." then they passionately kisses him.

Mac no longer complains. He just got a nice income and believes that if he works hard, his compensation would be even better in the evening.

Nick Valentine : “Ah, the Call to Service Award! I must admit, I had no inkling of your unwavering dedication prior to the war."

"I guess it's in my nature to spend all of my free time helping others," Sole laughs nervously. "But, really, it's nothing. I… It was fairly simple, and I had an excellent staff. Instead of going to bars, I went to the community center and helped others. It was enjoyable."

In turn, the old detective laughs. "Quite the spectacle, tending to the aged, providing sustenance for the destitute, and offering refuge to the wanderers."

“Well, it hasn't changed much,” says Sole, following the humor of the mocker.

Nick approaches and hugs them. "The more I come to know you, the more I find myself growing fond of you."

Sole appears indefinitely nervous, and Nick becomes too. By making the gesture that he has just too naturally provided, he is now persuaded that Sole's discomfort is, as often as not, because he is a synth and not another human being.

"Well, let's extract this particular piece of furniture, shall we?" he says quickly.

Sole observes him for a bit, realising that their friend is now more uncomfortable than they are, and knowing how self-aware he is, they place a warm hand on his shoulder. "By the way, thanks for helping me."

Nick smiles slightly. "It's always a real pleasure, partner.” And they each take their side of the cabinets.

Piper : "Are you jokin' with me?”

“What? It's insignificant."

“The damn Pulitzer Prize? Nothing? You really think I ain't aware of what it is?"

Sole seemed to be uneasy.

"I wrote an article criticizing the waste of resources in the movement of troops in Anchorage. It didn't turn me into a hero."

"But there's the Pulitzer Prize!"

"Do you really know what it is?"

Piper gives themm a mocking glance. "I’m a journalist, Sole. jour-na-list! Oh, you bet your sweet Nuka-Cola I know what it is!"

"I'm sorry for bugging you, but it's not like they're still do it."

"I understand, and I believe it's a shame. My McDonough story would've fetched me one, I tell ya..."

Sole bursts in laughter. "I'm convinced, too."

They resume the task without adding anything, but later that evening, Piper feels compelled to bring it back on the rug, for the damnation of Sole.

Preston : "A humanitarian award?"

Sole growls as they reclaims the article from Preston's grasp. "This must have been laminated by Nate/Nora. Shit…”

"A humanitarian award." Preston muses.

"In Africa, I dug wells to provide water to villages. It's not a huge deal. It was just another pastime for students with low self-esteem."

"You ventured all the way to Africa just to dig wells?"

"It was with a hundred other students. And there are many more. It was a common occurrence, I assure you."

"And did everyone receive a humanitarian award for that, General?"

Sole seemed to be uneasy.

"I may have started the nonprofit organisation that raised the most funds and travelled the furthest...However, it was in the past. I'm not even sure Africa exists anymore..."

Preston slaps Sole in the back while laughing heartily.

"You're that. The yearnin' to protect the world. I'm mighty proud to be your friend."

Sole gives a gentle smile. "You're more to me than just a friend, Preston. Everything is due to you."

"It's quite amusing, because that's exactly the sentiment I was about to express. Beginning with my life, in all senses."

Sole stares at the ceiling. They are occasionally irritated by Preston's approach, even though Preston is the great spirit who resurrected the Minutemen from its ashes. But if that pleases him, so be it. They take their place at their side of the furniture, and their Colonel gets the message.

"Ah, don't forget, tomorrow's is my humble abode, alright?”

"Too good." Sole grunts.

Strong : "What paper?"

"Stupidity of the past."

"Why Puny human hide paper?"

"Stupidity, I said. Sole piloted a plane to prevent it from collapsing on a skyscraper."

"What plane?"

"Stupidity. Can you get that piece of furniture out for me?"

Strong snatches the furniture with both hands and throws it through the window.

"Puny human furniture out."

Sole scratches their head. Sturges might have a hard time fixing it...

X6-88 : "Sir/Madam, is this document authentic?"

Sole growls as they grabs it from the Courser's hands. "It had to be Nora/Nate who laminated it."

"May I offer a remark?"

“No.”

Sole points to the other end of the cabinet to X6, and the synth rushes to take his position, but as they leave the house, he can't help but return his eyes to Sole from time to time. Sole exhausts their patience by travelling to Sturges to drop off their burden.

“What?”

"It is a privilege to be in the service of a genuine revolutionary in the field of modern medicine, and I cannot help but fathom the origins of Father's exceptional intellect."

"It was a laboratory accident that had a positive impact on humanity because my assistant was clever enough to capitalize on it and he was noble enough to give me the credit."

X6 adds nothing, yet on these rare occasions, a small smile extends across his lips. He has known for a long time that Sole is very modest, but he also knows that they are a particularly smart person, and he is not astonished to find that they distinguished themself even before the war.

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