all he wants is a normal day with with something normal to investigate

Don’t Flirt With Him

Word count: 2,241

Warning: smut, spanking, little bit of fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/N has to flirt with the most horrible and sexist man ever to get info for a case and Dean isn’t too happy about it so he shows her who she really belongs to.

The sound of Dean’s alarm woke you up and you reluctantly opened your eyes to see Dean and Sam already up and getting ready.

“Do you know what I think I like most about the bunker? Normal sleeping patterns.” Sam laughed, agreeing with you as he brushed his teeth.

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Almost [r.m.]

Originally posted by zachdempsey

Based on “Almost” by DNCE

Some days I’ll admit I was difficult
Everything you did I was critical

It was you and Reggie. That’s the way it had always been.

Ever since birth, your mothers had pushed you to each other, hoping to see you get together in the future.

And so you did.

It was seventh grade when he had asked you out, all nervous and shaky. You were kids, no one expected it to last. They had all been surprised to see that three years later, you and Reggie were still together as sophomores. And they had been even more surprised to see that you guys broke up that very same year.

You’re holding the car keys
I’m saying, “Don’t tease me.”
If you’re leaving, then just leave me

The Jason Blossom case had taken quite the toll on the small town. Being childhood friends with Betty and Jughead, you easily got caught up in the investigation while Reggie got caught up in a competition with Archie over who would be the next football captain.

You were slowly drifting apart.

Baby we were good
We were almost perfect
I’d say it’s your fault,
But you don’t deserve it

No one noticed at first. Not even you and Reggie. The last minute excuses, the constant apologizing for things you had both forgotten about.

To everyone, you were still the perfect happy couple.

Then came the late night sleuthing. You were putting yourself at risk, at least, that’s what Reggie thought. You however, paid no attention to his concerns, stating that your chances of getting hurt were lower than his every time he played a game.

Unfortunately, Reggie’s words rang true when one night, as you were lurking around the banks of Sweetwater River, your ankle got caught on a tree root. You had to be carried home by Jughead and taken care of by Betty in order to ensure your ankle wasn’t broken.

Reggie had stormed into your room, seething. He had yelled at you and you had yelled back, both saying things you didn’t mean. The night had ended with him storming out and you sobbing as both Jughead and Betty comforted you.

The happy couple had come to an end.

You won’t get back what we had with no one
Baby we were good
It was almost worth it
We were almost
Almost, almost

Truth is, there was no one to blame. You loved each other with all your heart but unfortunately, high school had torn you both apart.

You continued on normally, even if you were terribly heartbroken. You were determined to show Reggie that you would be alright without him.

Reggie tried did the same but he was absolutely crushed and was starting to lose sleep. He regretted his words and his actions.

You were the best thing he had and he had given you up.

You wanted someone to blame. Jughead, for dragging you with him on late nights. Betty, for roping you into the Blue & Gold. Even Reggie, for simply giving up.

But you knew that the only person to blame was yourself.

So real, sometimes it was fictional, yeah
So good, sometimes it was criminal
So happy without me,
Or are you just acting?
Either way is right.

The news of your breakup spread like wildfire. The next day, a quarter of the people knew about you guys. The day after, three quarters knew. By the end of the week, girls were already trying to get Reggie’s attention.

You stood by your locker with Jughead and Archie. Archie was rambling on about something, which was weird as he was usually so calm and relaxed.

Little did you know he was trying to prevent you from seeing some girl from your biology class flirt with Reggie.

“…and then I told Betty ‘There’s no way you can fit that whole apple in your mouth’ and she just looked me right in the eye, said ‘watch me’ and proceeded to shove it- (Y/N)?” Archie trailed off as you turned around, being met with the sight of Reggie leaning on his locker, smirking at the girl.

“I’m fine,” you whispered as Archie wrapped his arm around your shoulders and walked you to your next class, Jughead trailing after you guys.

“It’s okay to not be ok,” Archie whispered back.

Baby, we were good
We were almost perfect
I’d say it’s your fault,
But you don’t deserve it.

Reggie felt his heart break when he saw Archie Andrews envelope you in his arms and walk you to class. The same thing occurred for the rest of the week. And the week after that. And the week after that.

He’d always make sure to be in the same place as you and no matter how hard he tried to get your attention, you would only remain focused on Archie.

He tried everything. Flirting with girls like crazy around you, telling Archie to back off, even pushing Jughead into the lockers when he walked with you.

But none of it worked.

You were both miserable.

Archie was helping you, he truly was. He quickly became one of your closest friends, always guiding you away from Reggie in order to keep your heart from shattering even more than it already had.

You wondered if it was possible. Could your heart break even more if it had already been shattered by the person you loved?

You quickly found out that the answer was ‘yes’ every time you saw Reggie level the school with a new girl on his arm.

You won’t get back what we had with no one
Baby, we were good,
It was almost worth it
We were almost
Almost, almost
Almost, almost
Almost

It had been two months and Reggie was back to being his normal fuckboy self. You had been fully integrated into the group that consisted of Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and Kevin. Things couldn’t be better.

Actually, that was a lie. No matter how much time you spent with your friends, or how much effort they spent with trying to get you to feel better, you were still in love with Reggie.

But he had moved on…multiple times.

Reggie was still hurting. He regretted ever yelling at you and he regretted leaving your house the night you got hurt. He wanted to go up to you and tell you just how badly he was still in love with you.

But you were happy with Archie…as far as he knew.

Baby, we were good,
We were almost perfect.
I’d say it’s your fault,
But you don’t deserve it

Everyone was getting worried. You were still upset and extremely unhappy. These days, not even Archie could cheer you up. Yours and Reggie’s anniversary was coming up nd you couldn’t help but feel more blue.

In a last minute effort, Betty and Veronica planned a small outing for you the day of the would-be anniversary. It’s wasn’t anything big, just an outing to Pop’s with all your friends.

It was going well, Archie had even bought you a milkshake, and you were beginning to feel better.

At least, you were, until Cheryl showed up.

“So he asked me out and of course I said yes. I mean, he hasn’t been available since middle school. Everybody wants a piece of him.”

Your whole table turned to look at Cheryl when she walked in. She stopped near the entrance and looked around, her eyes landing on you.

Smiling maliciously, she turned to Ginger. “Let’s just say Reggie is better at a lot of things apart from football.”

You got up as they walked away, giggling.

“I gotta go,” you mumbled, gathering your things.

“(Y/N), please stay,” Betty begged.

You flashed a smile in her direction. “Thank you Betty, and thank you guys. Thanks for trying but I just really need to go.”

Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and Kevin all stared after you sympathetically, turning to glare at Cheryl once you had left the diner.

You won’t get back what we had with no one,
Baby, we were good,
It was almost worth it,
We were almost
Almost, almost
Almost, almost
Almost

Cheryl’s words kept playing in your head as you walked out of the diner. You weren’t crying. You couldn’t cry anymore. You were just numb. You kept your head down as you rounded the corner, crashing in somebody. Their hands went to your waist as you placed your hands on their chest to steady yourself.

Reggie looked down at you, emotions hitting him full-force. He missed this, he missed you. Being able to hold you in his arms and call you his. He had to get you back. And this was the perfect chance.

You looked up to apologize, only to completely freeze up when your eyes met Reggie’s. You wanted to say something, apologize for what was said that night that seemed so far away at that moment. But you couldnt. You couldn’t do anything but look away and try to hold back the tears your eyes had miraculously produced.

“(Y/N)…hey,” Reggie breathed.

“Hey.”

~~~

So I figured out how to write fics on mobile like you do on desktop. So requests will be up soon!

~~~

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Help (i need someone)

This was supposed to be a few paragraphs of “i had a thought” so of course it ended up over 1k. Oops?

I might write this eventually, i sort of wrote this already, but it’s not!fic style, I’ll be expanding it in the next few days, but if you get inspired, feel free to run with it, just tag me please!

So, you know how animals will occasionally seek help from humans? Like, a momma cat whose kittens are stuck in a drain pipe, or a raccoon who gets its paw trapped in a pop can, etc?

Think feral Derek who gets injured (either just after the fire he goes full shift feral or after finding Laura, or a random thing whatever, just he’s a wolf and has been for sometime now) and he gets injured. Caught in a trap or maybe he finds an injured thing, or maybe he’s stuck in a plastic ring thing that someone left behind from a picnic and he’s kind of forgotten how to be human, so he needs a hand, and so he howls for help.

Stiles has been hearing a wolf howling for weeks now, but when he mentions it is just met with “There are no wolves in California” but, you know our curious boy is not going to give up. So he’s been walking through the preserve investigating. He’s pretty sure he’s narrowed down where the wolf is living now, so when he hears a particularly urgent sounding howl, he’s in his Jeep and on the road before the sound is even finished echoing.

When he gets close to where he wants to turn into the preserve he sees a huge, black wolf, limping (or trying to get his attention, depending on whether Derek is injured, stuck, or being a good boy, er, Samaritan…).

So Stiles stops the car abruptly and, unthinking, leaps out of the car and runs toward the animal, practically skidding to a stop as he drops down in front of it, asking “What’s wrong, big guy, huh?” And Derek. Derek is momentarily stunned because this human just all but launched himself at him and that’s… not normal? Also, he smells really good (and familiar, definitely the human that’s been walking through the woods on the edges of his territory) and his hands that are absently petting Derek’s fur and checking for injuries feel really nice, and it’s all kind of jumbled in his head because he’s been running mostly on instinct for a while, and what he really wants to do is push his nose into the human’s neck and scent him and then push him over onto the ground and curl up around him.

But. He had a reason for venturing out of the relative safety of the woods. He needed help.

So he manages to communicate to the boy whatever it is that he needs, and Stiles obliges (i don’t know what’s cuter, some ridiculous litter caught around him or him leading Stiles to some trapped kittens) and then Stiles convinces the big wolf to get in his car (not that it takes much, Derek really wants to go with him) and takes him home, gets him clean and dry, figures out how to explain it to his dad…

Stiles finds the wolf curled up around his pillow (you can’t blame Derek, it smelled so good, okay) and after unsuccessfully trying to convince him to move to the end of the bed, gives up and lies down next to him with a grumbled “listen dude, i know you understand me, you did everything else i asked you to do, even let me give you a bath, which even dogs don’t do calmly. You’re not a normal wolf, buddy” to which Derek replies with a huff and a nuzzle at Stiles’ hand demanding to be pet as he apologizes. As Stiles scratches Derek’s head lightly, the truth of what he said hits him: this is not a normal wolf.

As he falls asleep, he’s already thinking about what to research in the morning.

He convinces his dad he’s fostering the wolf-dog for Dr Deaton, Scott’s boss at the vet clinic, and John quickly grows to enjoy the giant “dog” he even encourages him to sit with him while he reads over case files and half watches the game. As the days pass and he spends more time with the incredibly obedient wolf, who responds and reacts more like a human than an animal, and he does more and more digging into lore and local history, he starts to think he’s got it figured out.

They’ve been arguing about names, because Stiles needs something to call him. So far, the wolf has grouched about all nicknames (dude gets an especially emphatic unhappy sound) and done a decent canine version of an eye roll at a series of popular dog names. After a couple weeks, Stiles sits down in front of the wolf and pets him, holds his face with both hands and scritches behind his ears.

“Hey pal. I think I’ve figured out what to call you, but i need you to promise you won’t get mad like when i suggested Balto,okay? And i need you to promise you won’t like, run away or rip my throat out with those impressively big teeth of yours, yeah?”

Derek tilts his head in the best unimpressed agreement he can muster as a wolf (and he’s been having a hard time staying as a wolf lately, he wants to know what Stiles’ hands he’ll like on his skin and talk to John about baseball. He’s starting to remember what being human feels like. He’s even woken up half shifted a few times, human arms wrapped around Stiles and the beat of his heart under his fingertips, a growing ache in his chest).

“I think,” Stiles sighs and bumps his forehead against Derek’s. “I think i should be calling you Derek.” Stiles holds his breath and Derek freezes then tries to pull away, shaking his head as he feels the wolf falling away. “Derek, please, please stay calm, it’s okay. I know what happened, i get it. Please. ”

And Stiles’ hands are splayed and there’s no stutter in his heart beat, and his voice is quiet and pleading, so Derek stops fighting, stops holding onto the wolf, lets the shift fall away until it’s just him, kneeling uncertainly on Stiles’ bedroom floor. He takes a deep breath before he can meet Stiles’ eyes, when he does they both gasp a little, each struck by the beauty of the other, and Stiles in awe at the transformation he’s witnessed: the confirmation of the supernatural overwhelming, but not as overwhelming as the man crouched in front of him.

As a wolf, Derek had become a best friend of sorts; a faithful companion and confidant, even as Stiles began to suspect his true nature, he still felt safe telling him all his secrets.

After a long moment staring at each other, a grin spreads across Stiles’ face. “Hi.”

Derek swallows hard and manages a rough sounding “Hi” his vocal chords no longer accustomed to the shape of words.

Eventually, after looking at each other with soft smiles, Stiles momentarily holding in a million questions, Derek growing used to the way his body and his mind feel when he’s human, they get up. Stiles moves close and reaches a hand up to feel Derek’s face, repeating a soft “Hi” around an even softer grin, Derek leans into the touch and it’s easy to drift together to the bed. Stiles gets Derek some pyjama pants and tries not to look as he changes before sitting beside him, their hands lacing together easily as they talk for hours, falling asleep briefly until the sound of John’s car wakes them.

Stiles tells his dad the dog had to go back to Deaton and they both mourn his loss, John starts talking about getting a new dog. After a couple days of hiding Derek, Stiles introduces him to the Sheriff as a human. They get along even better than before, much to everyone’s relief. (They probably spin a story about Derek’s apartment flooding or something a few days later to get John to offer the spare room, because hiding a full grown man is hard, and Derek isn’t ready to be a person around other people yet. When Stiles has visitors he hides)

It takes time, but Derek grows comfortable in his skin again, and after they’ve known each other many months as people, they go from being Derek and Stiles to DerekandStiles and it’s as easy as it ever was for them to curl around each other, whisper secrets and fall asleep to rhythm of one another’s heartbeat.

Hopeless Romantic - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 5513

Warnings: Extreme loads of Fluff

Notes: This took…longer than I expect (I also got distracted playing Persona and staring at Stuart while writing it). Its just…extremely cute really and something I can totally see Dylan doing because he’s a fucking sweetie and I love him.

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Bound to Happen (Part 2), Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: The chronicles of being Lin’s assistant to maybe something more.

Words: 1,078

Author’s Note: I wrote this at 2 AM with the West Wing playing on a loop in the distance. I hope you’re enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it! This moment came from S2, E7 ‘The Portland Trip’. I’m bouncing around the timeline to make it fit, but it’s making sense in my head. I’m thinking about cross-posting this on AO3?

Warnings: Burn so slow you could smoke ribs with it.

Askbox | Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter


Your heels clicked rapidly against the concrete sidewalk as you weaved past bodies in your way. Your head stayed down to not call attention to yourself, as if your wine colored dress in the middle of the day wasn’t enough of an attention grabber.

Finally, you were met with the door of the Richard Rogers Theater, quickly ducking in just before you would have to pass a large group of men. You shed your overcoat - it was way too warm today to be wearing it out, but you enjoyed the coverage it gave you.

Making your way backstage, you brushed off compliments of anyone who you happened to pass, eyes set on one dressing room in particular.

I’m coming in, don’t be naked.” You called through the door, barely giving Lin time before you swung it open.

He was perched on his couch with his Play Station controller in his hand, eyes unmoving from Grand Theft Auto.

“Not naked.” He murmured, “Unfortunately.” He added with a smirk, pausing the game to give you attention. He shifted in his seat and you noticed that he was already in costume for the television appearance.

“I can only give you twenty minutes.” You reminded him, cracking open your purse to retrieve your memo pad.

“Well, I’d normally prefer more time for foreplay, but I’m sure we can make due with twenty minutes.” His smirk disappeared with your heated glare, “What I meant to say is that you look very beautiful in that dress you stole.”

“I didn’t steal it, I’m borrowing it.” Your arm moved to the back of the dress, ensuring the label was tucked away.

“You bought the dress with the intention of wearing it for one night and returning it the next. That’s stealing.” He informed you.

You huffed at his attitude today. While you were normally ready to go up to bat against his witty banter, you really wanted to save all of your energy for your date.

“I haven’t read the dictionary recently-”

Do people sit down and read the dictionary?

But-” You punctuated your interruption with a light punch to his arm, “That is not the definition of stealing.” You kick off your shoes to relieve your feet of the grip your unused heels had on them, “And if this date goes as planned, I won’t be wearing this dress all night.”

He groaned at the information as everyone was called onto the stage for their ‘pregame pep talk’. This mostly consisted of a choked up cast member rambling on about how far they’ve come and where they still have left to go.

You checked your watch and tip-toed towards the door, eyes meeting Lin’s for a second to ask ‘Can I go?’.

‘Get out of here,’ he mouthed, shooting you a thumbs up for luck. You really hoped you didn’t need it.

Your date lasted precisely forty minutes, and there was exactly zero movements to shed your expensive dress. You bolted so quickly with such a half-assed excuse that you were still able to catch the tail end of their performance outside a Radio Shack window display.

There was no volume, but you stood in awe of the performance as people brushed past you with no care as to what you were watching. You could hear Lin’s voice in your head, playing along as you deciphered the lyrics by reading his lips.

Without thinking, you mapped the course back to the Richard Rogers in your head, rushing up and over and few blocks to return to the theater.

They hadn’t arrived at the theater yet, but the doorman was nice enough to let you in after hours. How he was able to recognize you despite the extra layers of makeup and general aura of disappointment was beyond you. 

You sat onstage with your purse and coat perched next to you, twiddling your thumbs until the chaos that was the cast and crew of In the Heights clamored through the door.

They greeted you in kind, the post performance excitement still bubbling from each of them as they passed you to change out of costume. Lin was the last one through the door, the lightest of smiles gracing his lips.

Hey.” You called out, catching his attention away from Alex, who was quickly spitting out notes to an exhausted Lin who wouldn’t be able to retain any of it. Alex excused himself, much to the relief of Lin - they could go over that tomorrow when Lin had a fresh mind and a few hours of sleep under his belt.

“What time is it? You only left like an hour ago.” He stepped toward you as you stood from Abuela Claudia’s stoop, just outside his false bodega entrance.

“He sucked.” You admitted, “He was boring and rude and he sucked.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled, and you knew he wasn’t. “You deserve a good night out.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, glancing around the stage. For someone who spent nearly every waking moment at the theater, you hardly got to admire it from center stage. The dim lights were warm against your exposed skin, and the yellow tones of the stores made your heart swell. “Wasn’t meant to be.” You shrugged.

“I’m gonna-” He nodded to where the rest of the cast had disappeared as he gestured to his outfit, “Costume department will kill me if I forget to take this off.”

“Right. I just wanted to make sure everything went alright without me there.” He tilted his head and cringed a bit, as if to say ‘How did we survive?’. “I’ll call you in the morning for your lunch order.”

He watched you collect your bag and coat from the stoop, heels echoing through the empty theater as you crossed the stage towards the exit.

“Y/N.” You turned back just in time to see something unidentifiable flash across Lin’s face. It was gone before you could investigate further. “You look amazing in that dress.”

You thought so too this morning - now you couldn’t wait to toss it back on the rack at the nearest Macy’s.

“You should buy it for yourself.” He nodded once before turning on his heel, disappearing backstage without another word or a proper goodbye.

You stood for a moment, glancing at where he stood. With a sigh, you turned and exited the theater for the second time that day, your mind shifting around funds so you could keep the dress in your collection.

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Spirit in the House - Chap 6/10

Modern!AU Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader is in a coma after a car accident. Bucky moves into your apartment and find your spirit still hanging around. (Based on Just like Heaven)

Word Count: 1,430

Warnings: Mention of Drinking, Mention of Cheating, Language, Violence

A/N: Good ol’ Peggy Carter throwing punches. Also lines taken from the movie, I obviously don’t own that. Hope you’ll all like this one :)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

“Stop laughing, this isn’t funny.” Bucky chastised.

You clutched your belly and doubled over. “I’m sorry, but it kind of is.”

You both walked towards Peggy’s house. Bucky was a nervous mess as he climbed the three steps to her front door.

“What am I going to tell her?”

“That you’re a cop and you’re investigating my case.”

“She just caught me talking to myself. I should tell her I can see your spirit.”

His words made you turn around.

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Love on the First Page.

Description: On a case filled with literary references, you are called in to aid the BAU in their investigation. When you accepted their offer you weren’t expecting to become so smitten with their own resistant genius.

A/N: I’m a total book worm so I totally had to make the reader a literature professor, it was just too good to say no to. Thank you to @lost-in-my-arms for requesting this fic, I hope you enjoy! 

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This time of year is always hard for me. Not only is it my birthday, but the anniversary of my father’s death. A couple of years ago I wrote a story about it, and so for my own selfish reasons, I’m reposting it. It helps, believe it or not. 

~Lil~


~February 22, 2010~

Sherlock was just about to knock on Molly’s office door to ask for her assistance in the path lab when he heard a strange sound coming from the room. He really didn’t need her help, but Dr. Stamford had made himself quite clear that while Sherlock was allowed access to the facilities, it wasn’t without restriction and he would have to be supervised. He had only been out of rehab for eight months and had finally gotten the attention of Scotland Yard for his assistance with a murder investigation that would have frankly gone cold, had it not been for him. His new relationship with Barts and the powers that be was all too tenuous to muck up, just yet. He had no choice but to grin and bear it, as it were.

He didn’t know Dr. Molly Hooper very well, she seemed competent enough, certainly more intelligent than most of the half-witted idiots that surrounded him. It also didn’t hurt that she made a damn fine cup of coffee and followed his instructions to the letter, that is when she wasn’t stuttering and blushing like a teenager. But now, she was behind a closed door… crying. How was he to handle this?

He wasn’t fond of crying. He knew very little about the pathologist, but he was certain if he marched into her office while she was in the middle of a crying jag she’d be even more of a blushing, stammering mess than usual. In the end he decided that his experiment could wait until tomorrow. He turned on his heels and left.

~February 22, 2011~

Sherlock sat at his preferred microscope looking at abnormal plant cells when Molly came in looking worse than normal. They hadn’t spoken very much since the Christmas incident, but when they had it seemed that things were back to normal. Surely she didn’t think he was going to melt at the sight of her in that awful dress and overly done hair and make-up? He was slightly confused by his guilt, however. Why did he still have an odd feeling in his stomach every time he looked at her? He couldn’t figure it out, and he hated not being able to figure something out.

She came in carrying a stack of files, paying no attention to him whatsoever, then tossed them on the counter. She then picked up something from the corner of the room, retrieved the files and scurried out of the room, without so much as a glance in his direction. Clearly she was still upset. He didn’t want to have to do it, but if her emotional state was going to affect their working relationship, he’d just have to address the situation once again. He finished what he was working on then went to find her. He deduced that she’d be in her office.

That was where he found her an hour later. He heard her sniffle as he approached the door. He rolled his eyes once before knocking, reminding himself not to do that in her presence – living with John Watson did have its advantages – John was constantly reminding him that the general public didn’t like his patronizing eye rolls.

“Come in,” he heard Molly croak out. She clearly had been crying for some time, as her voice sounded hoarse and strained.

He walked in and immediately felt the guilt once again. This is getting very old, he thought. “Molly, I thought perhaps we should talk,” he said with a sigh.

She wiped her eyes as she stood up, then she removed her lab coat and cleared her throat. “Oh, ah, Sherlock- um did you need me for something? I was just getting ready to leave.”

“Yes, you’re clearly upset and…” He paused and looked at her desk. She had her bag sitting atop a blanket. Perhaps this has nothing to do with me, he thought. “Well, if you’re leaving then I’ll just speak with you some other time.”

“Are you sure? Is it very important?”

Not about me at all, then. “No, no. It can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” She put on her coat and picked up her things.

Sherlock was at a bit of a loss. He was certain that she was still emotionally distraught over the Christmas party. He had no idea what she was actually upset about and for some reason, he wanted to find out.

“Well, I’ll see you… later, then,” he said, then he turned and left her office. He didn’t go far though, just hid out of Molly’s sight and waited for her to leave. There was a mystery a foot and he decided he would solve it. He had no case and his experiment was finished, not to mention his curiosity had been piqued. And there was still that lingering feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach, even though her current mood had nothing to do with him or his Christmas cruelty- no honesty... he hadn’t been cruel, had he? Uncalled for perhaps, yes, that would do.

He followed her to the Tube, staying a safe distance away, then sat down several seats behind her. She kept her head down, not noticing anything around her whatsoever. It was shockingly easy to follow the pathologist. He was disturbed by the amount of attention she paid to her surroundings, which was next to none. He considered trying to ‘gift’ her self-defense lessons, but decided that perhaps he should just ask Mycroft to assign her a security detail instead.

Soon enough she stood up and he once again followed as she walked through the crowds. He thought he would have to intervene at one point when she very nearly stepped in front of a lorry, but she looked up just in time to jump back to the curb. She finally (carefully) crossed the street and entered a cemetery.

Within five minutes Molly had found what she was looking for. Sherlock tucked himself behind a nearby tree, close enough to see her and hear her, but obscured from her sight (not difficult considering her poor observation skills). She spread the blanket on the ground at the end of the grave and sat down. It was a cold day but not wet, thankfully.

Sherlock waited and listened. She didn’t speak for several minutes, she was crying softly. Then finally…

“Hi Daddy. Sorry it’s been so long, work’s been… well work.” She sniffled. “I should have visited sooner but… oh and sorry about my little breakdown at Christmas. That was uncalled for. This year was, as you know, a tough one. I won’t go through that again, you don’t need to hear about all that rubbish with Sherlock over and over. He’s, of course, acting like nothing happened. Don’t know what I expected.” She fished a tissue out of her pocket.

“Sometimes, like today, I feel so lonely, Daddy. It would be nice to have someone just to…” She didn’t finish the sentence, instead she cleaned her nose and took a deep breath. “I used to love my birthday. But now… No one knows, I don’t want them to know, but…” She paused and blew her nose again. “I told Mike when I started not to mention it and he’s been good about it. He’s a good man Daddy, a good boss.” She started crying harder.

“I called Mum. She’s… well she’s worse. She wasn’t very kind. Didn’t want to see me, so…”

There was a long pause filled with soft whimpers and sniffles. Sherlock knew he was witnessing something completely personal and private, he knew he had no business being there, but his feet were rooted to the spot. The guilty feeling in his stomach had been replaced with something so distractingly foreign, he couldn’t begin to name it. He couldn’t, however, take his eyes off of the petite woman in front of him.

It was her birthday, of course. He didn’t care for his birthday, none whatsoever, but some people, he was aware, did. She was sad and lonely and seeking comfort from her father’s grave. For a split second, he wished he were the kind of person that could go to her and wrap his arms around her. He wished he had words of comfort and kindness to end her sadness. He wished he knew how to make Molly Hooper happy, if for only a moment. But he wasn’t that kind of person and he had no idea how to heal her hurt, so he watched as she finished visiting with her father, then picked herself up. She folded the blanket, put her bag on her shoulder then walked to the grave marker and pressed a kiss to her fingertips then to the stone. As she walked away, Sherlock walked out from behind the tree and closer to the headstone.

Oh…

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Carter - Steve Rogers x (f)Reader

Words: 1496
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Featuring: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, mentions of Peggy Carter
Warnings: talk of death, guns, fighting, being knocked out, not talking, lil angsty
Requested by anon
Reader is the granddaughter of Peggy and has a striking resemblance to her. Steve finds it difficult to work with her once she joins the team. How will things turn out? Join us next week, same bat-time, same bat-channel! (Sorry I had to! XD)
Authors Note: fun fact, this was going to end with fluff. was. (Sorry it took so long for me to get an imagine out,,, been very uninspired lately…)

Steve Rogers Masterlist. Masterlist.


The first time Steve saw you, he didn’t exactly know how to act. For a minute he thought he was back in the forties and was still doing stage shows to help the war. But when Tony walked in the room, he was reminded that he was in 2017.

“Steve, I see you’ve met (Y/N)!” Tony smiled, “She’s going to be joining us, she’s one hell of a fighter.”

“I bet,” Steve sighed, not being able to look away from you.

You stared at him as well. You knew this man, but you had never met him before. You grew up with your grandmother always around and she showed you pictures from the second world war and had many stories that were never told in the history books. Whenever you needed help with history, she was always willing to talk to you about it.

You practically grew up in SHIELD. It wasn’t a surprise, though, as your grandmother did help found it. She taught you in many ways; school and conventional, like self-defense. But you turned into much more than just a SHIELD agent, you knew what you were doing. Which is why you ended up with the Avengers.

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Giant: Ch. 3

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear
Pack yourself a favorite blouse
Take a withdrawal slip
Take all of your savings out
‘Cause if we don’t leave this town
We might never make it out.

Previously on Giant

There were still visits. Still calls, texts at all hours, weekends spent at home, weekends spent visiting. It was not as much as they’d like, but still, the friends kept in touch as much as they could, or hope. Kara didn’t regret her decision as much as she thought she would, only realizing into their first holiday without her father that she needed the time at home to fix herself and grieve properly that she wouldn’t have gotten if she’d gone away to school.

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Everything Has Changed - Part Three | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by riverrdxle


Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After a bonding session with Jughead, you think everything’s going to be fine but you couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: …i think there’s a curse in there maybe.

Word Count: 1991

A/N: OKAY SO IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS but I really want to progress things instead of them suddenly being in love or best friends again, you know? Also, the ending of this part is something I had planned but thanks to the new episode, I had an actual place for Jug to be so it worked out. Lemme know what you think and if you want adding to the tags list hit me up <3

PART ONE | PART TWO

“A crocodile can’t stick it’s tongue out.”

Those were the first words you spoke when Jughead nodded his head at your request to talk. There were so many things you could and wanted to say but for whatever reason your brain decided not to go with anything normal and thought through and decided to throw out the most useless fact in the world. There were so many questions you wanted to ask about him, his family and what had happened since you’d been gone but for some reason, as you sat there across from Jughead, his blue green eyes staring into yours, you suddenly forgot how to think like a normal human being. It was like all the gears in your brain had stopped working and instead it was replaced with nothing but air. There was nothing going through your head, not even a witty or sarcastic remark which had grown to become your speciality over the years. Why was the one thing you could usually rely on letting you down like this right now?

However, the hints of a smile forming on Jughead’s face didn’t go unnoticed. At least you’d got something out of him. That was the first smile you’d seen from him the whole day.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Still got a brain full of pointless facts, huh?”

“They’re not useless. That fact could save your life one day, Jug. You’ll be thanking me.” You leaned back in the booth, arms folded across your chest and a smile on your face as you looked over to Jughead.

“You said the same when we were eight and you told me kangaroos couldn’t walk backwards,” he playfully rolled his eyes. The fact that he was bringing up past memories made you feel so giddy inside. It meant that he hadn’t forgot and that he still very obviously did think of you.

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The Ghost in Apartment 1403 pt4

Reader x Namjoon

Genre: Angst, supernatural, fluff, humor

Warnings: Mentions of death, dark themes, generally kind of sad at times.

Short summary;

Namjoon was a (relatively speaking) normal music producer moving up in the world–until he became a ghost. With no memory of what happened, and no idea what he’s doing still on earth, he haunts his old apartment–consequently bothering its new inhabitant (who also happens to be the only person who can see or hear him).

Part 1, 2, 3


“Stop changing the channel.” Namjoon snapped. It had been a week and you still weren’t entirely used to living with a ghost. He looked normal (you just couldn’t touch him, and no one else could see him), but there was something about his presence that was different than other people–it was like part of you didn’t really think he was there. 

“Nope.” You said, clicking the remote again. You could never agree on what to watch, which was a constant cause of arguments so far. “You can watch whatever you want while I’m at work. But when I’m here, we watch what I want to.” 

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at you, and you knew the second you left the room he was going to switch it back to “Fast and Furious.” The fact that Namjoon could move objects as long as no one was watching was one of the things that had finally convinced you that he really was a ghost. 

A few days before, you had ignored him all day, only to walk into your bathroom to find the words ‘QUIT IGNORING ME” written in red on the mirror, your favorite lipstick ruined as a result. You had then given him a long talk about not touching other peoples stuff without asking, and informed him that lipstick was expensive.

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Creepypasta #1032: Jenny Martin

Length: Long

When I was younger, about eight, I think, Jenny Martin from down the road would come babysit me. 

For the most part, Jenny was a really great babysitter. It was during the summer, when my parents had to work, so she and I would spend the whole day together. From memory, she was really tall, but that could be because everyone is tall when you’re eight. She had brown hair, brown eyes and freckles. I think she was fifteen or sixteen. Jenny always loved doing the things I loved doing. She would play Barbies with me, and finger paint and give me a cookie at lunch. Sometimes we’d walk to the park and have a picnic lunch. She was really great.

I think my parents would come home at 4:30, because she always left, just before dinner. And my mom and dad would ask how my day was, and I would hop around and tell them all the fun I’ve had. Those summer days were great. But then, school started. My parents wanted the occasional date night, sometimes worked longer hours, etc. So Jenny would come over after school, and stay really late.

The first few nights were fine. We had things like chicken nuggets or Mac ’n’ Cheese, or hot dogs for dinner. One night, that I remember really clearly though, we had chicken breast. My mom had left a recipe and all the spices on the counter, but I remember Jenny didn’t touch a single one. And when dinner was served, sitting beside some raw veggies, was an equally raw piece of chicken. I remember being really confused and pointed out to Jenny that I didn’t think it was cooked right. And she said,

“Raw is a delicacy. Eat up.” I didn’t know what delicacy meant, but it sounded fancy, and I trusted her, so I ate the meat. Jenny did too; she tore into it like it a starving dog, and blood dripped off her fingers, and fat smeared her mouth. She licked her lips and sucked her fingers before cleaning up.

Since I was eight years old, I naturally had a bedtime, which my mom tells me was 7:30. So at 7:25, Jenny would help me brush my teeth and get into my PJs and read me a bedtime story, before tucking me in.

I always fell asleep rather quickly; I think most little kids do. And since I didn’t have a clock in my room, I have no idea how long it was before I woke up to strange sounds coming from the downstairs. If I had been any older I would have investigated. But my eight-year-old self would hunker under the blankets and squeeze her eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the faint gurgling and scratching coming from the living room.

The next morning, I’d tell my parents there were funny sounds from downstairs and they told me Jenny heard them too. Apparently, the water heater needed a new pipe or something. I don’t remember exactly the story Jenny told them, but I bought it.

I’m pretty sure I was an accident. Now that I’m older, I’ve heard stories of how neither of my parents wanted kids, and a drunk Uncle Finn told me that I was conceived in the bushes of a Van Halen concert. My parents were pretty good parents - are pretty good parents, but even as a kid, I could tell they didn’t like having me tag along. So the nights with Jenny slowly became more frequent as they trusted her more and more.

About a month after the water heater story, I decided to see if it really was the water heater. Like usual, I brushed my teeth, changed, read a story and went to bed. And like usual, I woke up who-knows-how-much later to weird noises. I grabbed the flashlight I had previously stashed under my pillow (I would need it for the basement) and slowly crept from my bed. I creaked open my bedroom door, and made my way towards the sounds. I remember being confused, because the gurgling seemed to be coming from the living room – where Jenny was, and not the basement which was in a different direction. I reasoned the sounds must be coming from a vent or something.

I turned off the flashlight because I didn’t want Jenny to catch me snooping around, and besides, the TV light was plenty to see by. The noises were really loud in the living room. I slowly peeked my head around the corner of the door way. Jenny sat on the couch, with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees and her hair falling over her downward-tilted face. She wasn’t even facing the TV. She was facing me.

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i’ll make this feel like home

read on ao3

pairing: archie/jughead

summary:  There’s something about sharing a bed that makes you feel safe. However, sharing a bed with the right person can make you feel at home.

note: This is post 1x07 and canon compliant except for the fact that bughead doesn’t exist.


“Hey Juggie,” Archie whispered in the middle of the night. He was lying in bed while his best friend was sleeping on a makeshift mat down on the floor.

He was excited at first to have Jughead living with him. It kind of felt like a sleepover every night. But now, a week had passed and Archie found himself content with the new familiarity of having the other boy share his room. He couldn’t remember how he ever got any sleep before because now, he was almost certain that he could never fall asleep without the soft lullaby of Jughead’s breathing.

“Juggie,” Archie repeated. “You still awake?”

“No,” Jughead groaned and Archie smiled and sat up.

“Buddy, I was thinking-”

Jughead interrupted him. “Well, I was sleeping.”

Archie rolled his eyes in the darkness. “No, listen. I wanted to apologize.”

Archie waited a moment to see if Jughead was going to say something, anything. He couldn’t see his friend in the darkness of the room and Archie thought that it would make this whole thing easier.  

“I’m listening,” Jughead told him. 

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It was honestly getting out of hand. This is not what Tasha had in mind when she had the airport evacuated. It was more to make sure Barnes doesn’t accidentally hurt someone and maybe avoid people snapping pictures and tweeting about Avengers arguing with each other. And what the fuck was Clint doing here? Admittedly, she could have left a more detailed explanation with Vision as to why Wanda was confined to the compound though she thought that Wanda was intelligent enough to draw her own conclusions. Apparently she wasn’t.

“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked after Tasha helped her up.

“No, this definitely was not part of the plan. Damn Rogers and his ‘punch-the-way-out’ mindset. Want to switch it up?”

“Sure.” It was with practiced ease that Iron Woman had Black Widow in tight but safe grip, flying short way across the landing strip in order to land in the path of Cap’s team.

“Captain Rogers… I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good…you must surrender now.” It pained her how incredibly like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision sounded sometimes. But the good captain apparently was not listening if the advancing was anything to go by. Well fuck.

“They are not stopping.” She could have gone without kid’s comment. In a matter of seconds they were beating each other again. It was insane. And she had run out of patience. “Vision, take out the quinjet. It seems they won’t stop until they reach it.” Tasha instructed, dodging the shield Rogers threw at her.

The android disengaged his fight with the newcomer with the suit that could apparently enlarge as well as shrink; and turned his attention to the open hangar where the powered down quinjet was waiting. Iron Woman’s instruction was sound. Taking out a way to escape reduced the probability of prolonged fighting. Checking yet again if there was someone around the hangar, short beam of yellow energy burst from the gem on his forehead and the quinjet was reduced to a smoking pile of scrap. It was a shame really, for Tasha Stark took great pride in designing and building it. The resulting explosion served as a short moment of pause as the realization of no escape settled on Captain America’s team.

“I will say it one last time!” There was no restraint in anger that boomed from Iron Woman. “Stand the fuck down!”

Spider-man used the distraction to shoot copious amount of webbing at Hawkeye, Falcon and Scarlet Witch, effectively pinning them to the ground. It was after all the reason why she brought him to Germany in the first place. The close contact combat was not it. Black Panther had Barnes pinned as well, Black Widow was eyeing the man in giant form with all the suspicion of the world whilst War Machine was hovering near him as well, ready to act at any sudden move. For the first time since this whole shitty mess started, Captain America looked indecisive and unsure. It was more than likely because his only effective way out was blown up. Looking at his now subdued teammates, he let the shield he retrieved fall from his hand. “You’re making a mistake Tasha.”

“Then it is mine to make. As it was your mistake in deciding to not contact me before this fight went down or even to listen to me back at the task force.” She turned to Black Widow. “Please inform Everett Ross to send a transport for everyone.”

The giant man finally shrunk down to the normal size, hands raised up in surrender. She would find out exactly what his name was later. “Stay put Rogers.” Tasha ordered when he moved to follow her approach to Barnes, reinforcing it with a raised gauntlet waiting to fire off an energy blast. The helmet collapsed when she kneeled in front of Barnes. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“Sergeant James Barnes, serial number 32557038.”

“It’s nice to meet you at last Barnes. I believe I have something to help with your conditioning problem.”

“Steve didn’t mention that.”

Tasha snorted. “Yes, I am beginning to learn how elective he is with words. We’ll discuss it later.”

Black Widow returned with small caravan of SUV’s and prisoner transport trucks in tow, gear was taken away, handcuffs were slapped on and everyone made their way back to Berlin. Tasha was already having a headache just thinking about conversations that were to be had in about two hours. Making sure Spider-man was safely on board her private jet with Happy, Tasha slipped into the backseat of the black SUV; content to find out that there was no one else in it. She just needed a quiet minute or two.

***

“You know you are not obligated to talk to them any further. That is actually my job at this point.”

Why did she stop drinking? Because she could fucking use one right now. “I like you much better than the other Ross. So if you could just let me deal with this shit please? I promise you can hash out all the details on them later because frankly I am just about done.”

The shorter man eyed her, finally shrugging his shoulder and pointed to the heavily guarded conference room where the rogue Avengers as media was already calling them were being kept. He made it crystal clear that they should be in cells already but he was not going to go against the higher ups. And seeing the plain exhaustion of her face, he decided that the woman should have some sort of satisfaction out this entire clusterfuck. “You look ready to keel over.” Nat commented bluntly, matching her steps with Tasha’s.

“Let’s just get this over with, okay? I really don’t want to talk about anything else.” Two women already found Rhodey, Vision and T’Challa sitting at the same table, facing the other team with expressions varying from unconcealed anger to pensive curiosity. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?”

“I’m not here for chit chat, Rogers.”

“Where’s Bucky?”

Rhodey snorted loudly and Tasha rolled her eyes. “You have unbelievably single track mind, it’s amazing. You people collectively broke more international laws than most terrorists do and you keep yapping about your best friend. He’s fine; I negotiated with Ross to have him transferred to one of my facilities under heavy guard just in case the other Ross had any bright ideas. We-” she motioned to her team. “Are here to talk about the supposed Winter Soldiers.”

“Oh, so now you care?” Clint shot out, not even attempting to hide his discontent.

“Mr. Barton.” T’Challa cut in before Tasha could speak again. “The entire defense of your team sits on this supposed threat. Make no mistake; your position is very precarious.”

“Barnes already gave us some intel, we just want to corroborate that he told you the same thing.”

“And then what?”

Vision leaned forward in his seat. “And then captain Rogers, we are going to go and investigate the validity of those claims. I believe they will be taken into account when joint counter terrorism centre brings up the charges. I believe Mr. Ross has far more detailed explanation of how things will proceed from here.”

“And the Russians are just going to let you waltz in their backyard?” Sam sounded guarded and doubtful.

“Considering they have to deal with public backlash of Barnes being used as KGB’s assassin and likelihood that they have been storing several more on ice all this time after everything that happened, yes, they will let us just waltz into their backyard.” Rhodey ground out.

“Look, we will check this either way Rogers. You cooperating might do you some good. Time to start using that head of yours for something other than punching and thinking about your war buddy.”

“You mean compromise?”

Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not this again Rogers. I am not talking about this with someone who has not even read the Accords. None of you did, I bet.”

“You owe it -” “Enough Captain.” T’Challa was on his feet now. This was not how they discussed making their marriage public knowledge but he could not stand to watch any longer to his wife’s former team mate look at her like she was ultimate disappointment in his life. “My wife does not owe you or anyone here anything beyond the common curtsey of civil conversation.”

One could hear a needle fall in the room that is how silent it was. Steve noticed that aside from Rhodes, everyone was sporting various degrees of surprise on their faces. And Tasha looked uncharacteristically pleased with it. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I assure you Mr. Barton; I would never joke on the matter of our marriage. You have never inquired if Tasha was seeing anyone, you just made assumptions. Besides, we preferred our privacy.”

“So it was another secret.” At best, he sounded like it was something he believed to be completely in character with her and was therefore disappointed that she did not learn from past experiences.

Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Rogers…my marriage is of absolutely no importance to the events that have transpired in last few days. So fuck you for trying to use it as some sort of springboard for your moral crusade. I’m done.” T’Challa wasted no time in following after her.

“Tasha slow down.” It was not that he could not catch up with her but it was the way she was gripping her left arm while she was marching away that had him concerned. “I am sorry for blurting it out like that but I could not watch him step on you any longer.”

“It’s fine, really.” Her breathing suggested otherwise.

“What injuries did you sustain in the fight?” His eyes tried to asses her condition but aside from the black eye, she had no visible injuries.

“None. But uh, my left arm is kind of numb. Is that normal?”

No, it was not normal at all and the panic he experienced seconds before the bomb went off returned with full force. “You need to see a doctor straight away.”

“What? No, I’m good.”

“Please, intanda, do not argue with me. Not now.” Her acquiescence after his plea was short lived because not ten steps later; she collapsed and would have kissed the floor face first were it not for his fast reflexes. With relative ease, he scooped her up and called for help. He lost his father; he would not lose her too.


@queenyavengers So you wanted a secretly married IronPanther, yes? Here’s a short thing plus angst.

batmanthirst  asked:

I don't know if you're still in the writing mood but here's a prompt if you're up for it: clark non-explicitly asking bruce out in the middle of conversations and never being taken seriously

(AN: I’m sorry this took a little longer, I’ve been working more days lately and there is a couple days between me writing the beginning of this and the end if things seem a little wonky. I hope you like it either way)

“He has to know right? I mean, it’s Batman.”

“Let it go, Bear.” Hal said not looking up from his magazine. The two were supposed to be on monitor duty, but the Lantern normal took this time to relax and maybe catch up on some sleep if he was partnered with someone reliable and there were very few more reliable than Flash. Except apparently when there was drama afoot.

“I can’t just let it go.” Barry sighed but reluctantly turned back to the monitors, far used to his friend’s routine. Between Justice League missions and Green Lantern duties, he couldn’t really complain if the guy fell asleep while working. Much. “It’s like watching someone slip on something in slow motion. It’s too late to warn them and you know it’s going to end in disaster.”

Hal snorted but didn’t object to the hyperbole. Of course Batman had to see it, they all had. It had been going on for months. Hell, maybe even years considering the two had known each other for far longer than the rest of them had.

Then again, he thought, glancing up towards where Batman and Superman were huddled over the plans for the Watchtower renovations. The guy does have the emotionally intelligence of a potato.

Supes was standing shoulder to shoulder with the Bat, a proximity that seemed only to be reserved for him, Diana and his forty friggin kids. The aforementioned Bat’s shoulders weren’t as tense as they normally were. If it was anyone else, Hal would have just narrowed it down to the years of familiarity they had on the rest of them, but the Lantern had only seen that particular extent of relaxation around the other man’s fifty-seven bat kids. Hal shook his head, turning back to his magazine and taking his own advice, letting it go.

“We need to fix the water pressure in the en-suite showers, but that can wait.” Bruce said, lens covered eyes scanning the plans as Clark nodded along. “It’s the satellite that needs immediate attention.”

“Did you see that new restaurant by the Planet earlier?” Clark asked as his friend lapsed into brief silence, most likely doing calculations in his head.

“I did. That meteor shower on Monday caused more damage than J’onn and I anticipated. Some of the panels will need to be replaced.”
“Well that’s probably because I needed to destroy an asteroid to make it a meteor shower. We should go there for lunch tomorrow instead of the diner.”

“Rosanne would stop giving you that free cheesecake if she found out we skipped out on the usual place. I can get new panels, but it might take a couple days.”

“I can loop around the planet a couple times every day until we get them. And okay, that’s fair.” Clark chuckled, thinking of the older waitress that normally took his and Bruce’s order whenever the former was in Metropolis. “Well how about we go there for dinner?” He suggested albeit hopefully.

“Can’t. Charity dinner. One that you’re covering.” Bruce hummed without missing a beat. “That’s impractical even for you, Superman. There might be a way I can get them as early as tonight, might have to involve Malone though.”

“Oh. Right, day job.” His shoulder’s sagged only the slightest bit and he raised a half amused eyebrow. “Malone has those kind of connections?”

“You’d be surprised. I’ll make the arrangements for after the dinner later. If I can get them, you’re going to have to do the heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, I can do that, B.”


He has to know. Dick thought watching Bruce and Clark crowd the monitor (Batcomputer as Nightwing had mentally dubbed it) looking over the results of the tests Bruce had ran on a strange metallic object that Clark had ‘ran into’ during one of his most recent battles. Clark’s hand rested on the top of the computer chair as he leaned forward for a ‘better look at the screen’, invading Bruce’s personal space. Rather than objecting to the proximity, B didn’t even seem to notice it. Which Dick knew was bullshit since his father figure was aware of almost everything in his environment. He was sure Clark was aware of this as well.

It was a familiar routine, one that Dick could trace back to his Robin days, when Clark and Bruce first began their uneasy truce that surcame to years of true friendship. Of course, back then he hadn’t been totally aware that Superman had been flirting with his guardian. Not until Jason had taken up the Robin mantle at least. He shook his head. At this point he wasn’t sure if Bruce was toying with the other man or if this had actually managed to evade the Batman’s noticed. Which he seriously doubted. The pattern was always the same; they did some actual work for a few hours, standing or working closer to each other than strictly necessary, then Clark would bring up a movie he was thinking about seeing (this week was the new King Kong movie, go figure) or a concert or restaurant he wanted to go check out and would casually invite Bruce along, only for it to go over the Bat’s head.

The worst part was, Dick knew Bruce was interested. He knew Bruce better than the older man knew himself sometimes. They all saw the softness in his eyes when it came to Clark, the inside jokes, the way the Man of Steel could just ‘pop by’ without getting the whole ‘my city’ speech (most of the time) anymore. So it baffled the eldest child a little. He didn’t know why he toyed with the other man like that. Maybe he decided he would lose interest, maybe he had somehow convinced himself that he was somehow a danger to the indestructible man like he had most people in his life. Maybe he convinced himself that relationships themselves were too dangerous, too distracting from his work.

Maybe, Dick thought as he watched Bruce’s lips twitch a little at some corny joke Clark had made before falling back into their neutral scowl. He thinks he’s the one being toyed with.

He shook his head and headed upstairs for something to eat, ruffling Damian’s hair as he passed him on the stairs.

“Try not to be as hopeless as them when you get older, okay?” He muttered, smirking at the confused look he got as he walked away.


Clark yawned and stretched, pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes. Alien or not, staring at his computer screen for six straight hours had done nothing good to his eyes, or his back for that matter.

“So, even Superman gets uncomfortable in cheap office chairs.” He looked up in brief panic before his brain registered the voice. The shadows of the empty bullpen seemed to naturally surround Bruce, even when his Batsuit was traded for a nice Armani one. His lips were quirked in a small, amused smile as he approached his desk as he had many times before. “The job of an investigative journalist is never done I see.”

“Unfortunately not.” Clark chuckled, leaning back in the chair to better look up at him better. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Wayne?” He asked with a bit of a teasing grin. Bruce said nothing, just studying his face with those calculating blue eyes in a way that always made Clark want to squirm. Of course, if he did, that mean Bruce won. It became a game at some point, though he couldn’t say when, one he was almost sure he wouldn’t win. There was no winning with the Bat. He had even resigned to stop his advances, forfeit the game. He was content with being friends, that would be enough for him.

Of course with Bruce, it wasn’t that simple. Because, like most things with the Bat, the moment Clark thought he was out, Bruce changed the rules. The billionaire leaned down and pressed his lips against the reporter’s, who responded to the long dreamt about kiss immediately, cradling the back of his head, afraid it would end just as suddenly. When Bruce did pull away, he was smirking.

“Come on, you owe me dinner.”

Teen Wolf Imagine- What Happened To Y/N? (Part2)

Part1

Authors Note- The second part to this imagine, sorry if things get a little complicated from her on out, just make sure you read in the correct order, which are linked above. Hope you enjoy, sorry its late but my school takes no prisoners x

Scott’s Perspective

After having time to think, Scott remembers little signs that indicated you were caught up in something bigger than he realised. One occurring about a week or so before your disappearance. He walked into your room and sat in his usual seat at your desk. “So, what’s the problem?” you asked, taking it as an indicator for your usual heart to heart. “Nothing, just wanted to see how my litter sister is doing” he claimed while spinning the chair around to face you. “Ah, so that must mean you want something” you replied, looking up at his cheesy grin. “Well actually me and Stiles were wondering-” he began, You shook your head lightly, “This cant be good” you accidently thought out loud. “It’s nothing elaborate” he defended with a smile. You rolled your eyes and he gave you a playful nudge causing you to laugh. “I was… Stiles and I were hoping you would look after the house and cover us at school for a few days-” he trailed. “What, why?” you asked as your face straightened out. “We need to do something important and for once its not supernatural related so you don’t need to worry” he shot you a confused and pleading look. He didn’t see what the problem was, it wasn’t like you hadn’t done stuff like this before. He heard the slight increase in your heart rate, “Look, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to” he said softly, he thought it might have been to do with you being home alone while your mom was on her nightshift. “It’s fine ill do it” you said with a weak smile. “Actually, I don’t think I want my little sister home alone for that long of a time-” he said with a sudden disturbing thought. “You better not say, what I think you’re going to say” you moaned, sitting up. “Derek can babysit you” he nodded knowingly. “No not again, not after the last time. Id rather-” you began but cut yourself off after receiving a text message. Scott couldn’t help but notice another hitch in your heartrate as you immediately locked your phone and slammed it back onto the bed. “Who was that?” he asked in concern, reaching for your phone but you squatted his hand away, picking it up as you walked over to the window casually. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re being so secretive?” he asked as he stared at you. He watched as you peered out of the window, looking left and right before slamming it shut, checking the lock and pulling the curtain over. “No, are you going to tell me what you and Stiles are doing?” you asked back. “No” he replied shortly. “Touché” you joked it off. “Idiot” he exclaimed throwing a cushion at you playfully. “Jackass” you replied, throwing it back, only for him to catch it with one hand. “I hate you and your stupid wolf powers” you huffed, flopping back onto your bed. “I love you too sis”.

When he returned from his and Stiles’ short trip the house was completely upside down, it was an absolute mess. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice vibrated the upstairs floorboards of your bedroom. “Shit!” you exclaimed, rolling out of bed and pulling your hair into a messy bun, you still had last nights clothes on. You slowly crept downstairs and into the kitchen. “What the hell is this?” he shouted, following you to the fridge. “I ermm, I had a party last night…” you said, trying to keep your heart rate steady. “Where’s Derek?” he questioned. “There was an emergency at the loft and he had to run out” you claimed, pouring yourself some orange juice but your hands were shaking so it went all over the counter top. “Have you been taking drugs?” he asked with wide eyes. “What the fu- No Scott, I don’t do drugs” you defended with the 100% truth. “Then what is wrong with you?” he asked again. “I’m just a little hungover, ill be fine” you said, rubbing your eyes. “So what, you think its ok to have a party and get drunk and… and…” he continued. “So shoot me! For trying to be a normal teenager and doing normal things like partying and enjoying life rather than trying to run from it all the time! Don’t you understand that? I didn’t ask for this, it’s you that dragged me into it” nothing but venom was coming out of your mouth. “Why are you acting like this?” you could hear the hurt in his voice. “Save the big brother act until someone is around to actually see it, you’re wasting your breath” you said bitterly. He stood there opened mouth, not able to speak. “That’s exactly what I thought” you exclaimed before running back upstairs. He stood there, his hands shaking and his eyes watering, he never expected his little sister to say that, especially when he tried everything to keep you safe and it wasn’t exactly his choice in telling you about the supernatural, you uncovered it by yourself. But little did Scott know that when you returned to your room you slid down the wall and sobbed for hours, you didn’t want your brother to miss you as much as he would have if he remembered nothing but happy memories. It would of been a lot easier if he didn’t care.

So today Scott called a pack meeting, determined to get to the bottom of his sister disappearance once and for all. Stiles arrived, his skin practically transparent and the bags under his eyes seemed to drag his once hyperactive self down. Lydia and Allison soon followed both of them sulking and moping about like two lost souls. They sat in your living room, except for Scott who stood. They were staring at the ground, not wanting to see the cheesy family pictures on the walls or your things that were scattered around your house; textbooks, jumpers, even something as simple as a nail varnish bottle was enough to set them off. “We’re going to find her” Stiles assured, placing his hand on Scott’s shoulder, before sitting down. He gave a weak smile, he hadn’t lost hope, but after hours of trying to track you by scent and nothing turning up, he couldn’t help but feel beaten down. “Y/n is a hard nut to crack, she may not have any supernatural abilities but she’s as badass as the rest of us” Lydia cracked a small but genuine smile. “If not more badass” Allison agreed, thinking of the same time. “If this gets too much for you, we can stop” Stiles offered. Scott nod his head and exhaled, before opening Stiles’ theory pack on the coffee table. They all edged forwards on their seats and began to scan over the facts they had and what they needed to find out. Scott’s chest began to feel tight, this wasn’t some crime scene investigation the pack was working on, it was his baby sister’s. He was unaware that his claws began to protrude from his hands, not in anger but upset and guilt. “Scott look at me” Allison said in a calm panic. “Woah Scott are you ok?” Stiles asked with concern. “I think we need a time out” Lydia agreed, they hadn’t been looking for long and it was taking a tole on them all, not just your older brother. Allison assisted Scott in standing up and exiting the living room. “Scott!” she called after him as he stumbled upstairs and into your bedroom.

It was the first time he had been in your room since you disappeared, he slowly sat on your desk chair and stared at your bed. Memories of you two since you were little flashed through his head, from the pillow fights when you were six to the countless times he embarrassed you when your friends or boyfriends were around since freshman year, to the current relationship you had of studying and having your daily chats at night together. He could see the practice lacrosse jerseys spilling out of one of your draws because you insisted in having one from every pack member that was in the team, from Scott’s to Stiles’ to Isaac’s to Liam’s to Kira’s, he was even sure you had Jackson’s and Brett’s too, even though they weren’t actually pack members. Meanwhile in the living room Stiles and Lydia sat there in silence, reminiscing themselves and trying to connect the dots to what seemed like an endless chain of events. Stiles gave a sigh and closed the book before taking it off the coffee table. “Oh here, you dropped this” Lydia said, picking up the piece of scrap paper that had fallen out. She briefly read it and began to pass it to him, before she processed and read it again. “Lyd what is it? Lydia?” Stiles asked. “Is everything ok?” Allison asked, walking into your bedroom and approaching Scott at your desk. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just miss her” he shrugged glumly and swivelled so he was now facing the actual desk. “We all do” she trailed, looking around your bedroom that somehow seemed dull without you there. He opened the notebook and flicked through the doodles you made when you were supposed to be studying, before he stumbled across something he shouldn’t have. “What is it?” Allison looked over Scott’s shoulder at the note you had written. “Did you know?” Scott asked, quickly standing up and ripping the page out. “No, she never mentioned anything about seeing or dating anyone” Allison claimed with a furrowed brow. When Scott and Allison re-joined Stiles and Lydia in the living room, they were sitting there with nothing but the note on the table. They sat beside them, “She didn’t want anyone to know, I wasn’t even supposed to know- what I’m trying to say is, I know who the mystery boy is and-” Lydia began to ramble, before Scott placed the note he had found on the coffee table beside the other. “Surely he wouldn’t do anything to harm her though, right” Allison chimed in. “I don’t know, but you’re going to tell us everything you know about there relationship, right now” Scott said firmly. Lydia nodded in agreement, before explaining her part of the story.

So the next part is in Lydia’s perspective, comment below or in the requests who you want this mystery boy to be and sorry this part is kind of short, but Scott has the least involvement in her disappearance, hope you enjoyed x 

Discovery of Self

Prompt: superman one where you’re his daughter and you love playing the piano and music and stuff but because of his hearing he can’t listen to you play and so you get really sad about it and you get a surprise scholarship to a music school abroad and you kind of leave him and he doesn’t really know what to do???

AN: Let’s just talk about this little prompt right here … This turned into something that I love. Hopefully you guys enjoy it too. Thanks to my beta’s for plowing through my stories

Words: 1144


          You wait for him to come home. You just sit at the kitchen table and wait. You’re reading in your chair when the door finally creaks open, and he walks in. Those stupid glasses are on his face, and you don’t understand how they hide anything.

          He doesn’t even pause, he just walks straight to the fridge, pulls out the carton of ice cream, and two spoons and sits down. You both take a few bites before he finally asks, “Okay, what’s up kiddo?”

          You prepare yourself to tell him, but instead you ask, “Were you able to save everyone?”

          He smiles, as he takes off his glasses, “Yeah, your brothers and I were able to get everyone to safety. The rest of league was tackling a tsunami.”

          There’s another moment of silence before you say, “Mom called from Milan, the story is taking longer than she thought, she’s going to be another three days.”

          He just smiles. “Excellent, she’ll make it back in time for the cookout this weekend, everyone’s going to be there. Grandma and Grandpa Kent are driving in, your brothers are flying in. Your uncle Conner and Aunt M’Gann are coming in too. I even convinced Bruce and Damian to come, you and Damian get along right?”

          You shrug. “I haven’t had all that much contact with him, to be honest.”

          He nods, “I suppose that’s true, but he’s a good man, I think that you two would…”

          “I’m moving to London!” The words come out without your consent, and the look on his face makes you almost wish you could take them back. Almost.

          He stares at you. “I don’t understand.”

          “My college acceptance letters came in a few weeks ago. I got in everywhere I applied.”

          The smile that lights up your father’s face makes your heart break even more. “That’s amazing sweetheart, spectacular, but I don’t understand why you would say you were going to London when that’s the case. And why wait several weeks to tell us?”

          You take a deep breath. “Because I applied to a music school in London. Very prestigious, only five percent of applicants get in, and I managed a full scholarship.”

          Your dad’s eyes narrow. “But that’s not what we discussed, you were going to attend one of the three schools your brothers go to, so that there was someone to watch over you. Keep you safe.”

          You take a deep breath in an effort to stay calm. “Dad, the guys go to some amazing schools, but none of them have the kind of program I need if I want to play professionally.”

          He just crosses his arms and says, “But we agreed that you weren’t going to play professionally.”

          Your voice steadies. “No, you decided that. You and the boys, and the league decided to keep me in this little protective box where I can’t be used against you, because I am apparently helpless.”

          Your dad just sighs. “Y/N we’ve been over this, you’re in a vulnerable position because of who your family is.”

          You meet his gaze, “Don’t you mean because of who I am?”

          “Y/N …”

          “Four kids, and I’m the only one without powers. I can’t fly, I’m not bulletproof, and I can’t shoot beams out of my eyes. Heck, I’m not even an investigative reporter, like mom. I’m the normal one, but there is absolutely nothing normal about my life. You’ve kept me in a box, like I’m veal. I always have to have someone watching me, heck, I’m eighteen and I still have to check in with you and mom, or my older brothers.”

          Your dad’s voice raises, “You’re in constant danger because of what our family is…”

          “I AM NOT A PART OF THIS FAMILY!” The statement takes both of you by surprise, and your dad’s expression turns to one of horror and sadness. You clear your throat. “I’m the only one without powers, I have spent more collective time with my grandparents than with my parents. You and mom have always been gone, trying to save the world. And when the boys started showing signs of powers you put all your time and energy into training them. I became an afterthought …”

          Your dad moves forward to hug you, and you step back, out of his reach He whispers your name, “Y/N …”

          “You know nothing about me. You’ve never even heard me play. And it’s not just you dad, the guys have never heard me play, and mom, well mom is always traveling now.” There’s this silence before you say, “I love you guys, I really do. I understand why you do what you do, and why the world comes before me, but at the same time, I have needs too. And I need this. I need this school, and this opportunity. An opportunity to find out who I am, and what’s best for me.”

          You take another few steps back, “Grandma and Grandpa Kent already know, I told them months ago, and I’ve sent an email to mom. And I have no doubt that you’ll tell the boys.” Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you know what that means, “My flight leaves in three hours, and it takes an hour to get to the airport, which means I have to go.”

          He takes a step forward and you take another back, distance is your friend right now. “I have to go to the school early to start setting things up. My dorm, classes, set up reservations for the piano, things like that.”

          “So this is it? You tell me and run?”

          You nod. “You forget dad, I was never the superhero, I was never the brave one, I was never the strong one. I knew how things would go. The entire family would converge and try to keep me from going, and I would give in. But I can’t, because I need this.”

          You allow yourself to walk towards him now and in that moment, your father, Clark Kent, Superman, looks smaller than you’ve ever seen him. You simply kiss his cheek and say: “I’ll email you to let you know I’m safe. I love you daddy.”

          You don’t look back, and when you get to London you throw yourself into school. You throw yourself into figuring out exactly who you are. You exchange sporadic emails with your family, and not one demands your return. And for that you’re extremely grateful. On the night of your end of the year recital, you walk out onto the stage to take your place, and when you look out into the audience you see your family. You can’t help but smile as you sit down and play. And as your fingers glide across the keys, who you are shines through.