I’m having an existential crisis because I realized that I don’t understand how ambulances work and I’m too sleepy to even figure out how to google my question properly. But like. Where do ambulances live? Who do EMTs work for? Are they always tied to specific hospitals or do they move around?
Summary: Steve invites [Y/N] to come demo-dog hunting with him and Dustin.
A/N: It’s my first Steve Harrington x Reader so have mercy 🤗
This was the last thing I expected to happen on my Friday night in. My crush, Steve Harrington, had just showed up at my door holding a baseball bat full of nails with a middle schooler bouncing around behind him.
“We need your help,” Steve said as soon as I opened the door.
“Hello to you to, Steve. What exactly do you need my help with?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows and crossing my arms.
“Monster hunting!” Dustin jumped in from behind Steve, a smiled plastered on his face.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked Dustin and Steve.
“It’s happening again,” Steve said. My eyes widened. Last year when the Upside Down was a threat to Hawkins, Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, and I had teamed up to kill the demogorgon in the Byer’s house.
“You were pretty bad-ass last time,” Steve pointed out, recalling when I beat the shit out of the demogorgon with my own nail bat. “We could use that again.” I smirked.
“One second,” I said, turning around and racing into the other room. I came back a few seconds later in a leather jacket, holding my nail bat. “Let’s go.” I walked out of the house feeling Steve’s eyes follow me.
Dustin led Steve and I through the woods until we ended up in an abandoned junkyard full of run down cars and spare parts.
“Oh yeah, this’ll do,” Steve said, heading towards the big bus in the middle.
“Hey guys!” We turned to see Max and Lucas on top of a hill, waving at us and parking their bike. The two kids ran over to the group.
“Ok, we need a plan to catch Dart,” Lucas said.
“Wait, who’s Dart?” I asked.
“My ex-pet that went crazy and the demogorgon dog that we’re trying to catch. Keep up,” Dustin quickly explained.
“Well if it’s a dog, it should like meat, right? We can lure it with meat,” I suggested.
“Where the hell are we supposed to get meat?” Dustin asked.
“The market, dipshit,” Steve snapped.
“Oh right,” Dustin got quieter, while I snickered. Steve winked at me, and I felt my cheeks heat up.
Later that night us five were hiding in the bus, the meat we had bought sitting outside. Dustin had begun to freak out, his nerves taking over.
“What if something goes wrong? What if-”
“Dude, get a grip!” Steve yelled, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders. “Nothing’s gonna happen, just get ready.” Steve handed him a lighter to defend himself, which Dustin stuffed in his pocket.
A faint Rrrrrrr could be heard from outside.
“It’s here,” Max said, her eyes filled with fear. “It’s gonna be okay,” I told her.
“Stay here,” Steve said, grabbing his bat, heading outside.
“Steve!” I whispered, causing him to whip around. “You’re not going out there alone.” I grabbed my baseball bat from the corner and walked towards him. “Together, okay?”
“Okay.” A quiet “get a room” could be heard from Dustin in the back of the bus. I just rolled my eyes and stepped out of the bus, right behind Steve. Both of us started to whistle, trying to draw the demo-dogs out.
“Come on, buddy,” Steve said.
“Dinnertime,” I whispered. “I taste better than that cat, I promise.”
“I can second that,” Steve flirted.
“Not the time, Harrington.”
We were walking towards the growls coming from inside the fog. The fog lightened up revealing a fully-grown Dart.
“Shit,” I whispered, stepping closer to it.
“STEVE, [Y/N]! WATCH OUT!” They heard Lucas scream from his hiding spot.
“Little busy here!” Steve replied, inching closer to Dart.
“3 0’CLOCK!” Lucas screamed. Hearing that, my head whipped over to my right where I saw another demo-dog stalking towards us.
“Double shit,” I whispered.
“GUYS, ABORT! ABORT!” Dustin yelled. Steve turned around to look at Dustin for one second, but turned back around just in time to push him and I out of the way of Dart who pounced at us. As soon as we regained our balance, we were attacked left and right. Me and Steve kept swinging our nail bats, barely looking at where we were swinging.
“Hurry!” Max hollered. Steve and I made worried eye contact for a split second before sprinting back to the bus, the dogs right behind us.
“Come on!” The kids screamed, but Steve went down as one of the dogs grabbed one of his legs.
“Go!” He told me, but of course I would never leave him. I swung my bat as hard as I could, sending the demo-dog flying across the yard. The kids ran out and grabbed Steve and his bat, pulling him back into the bus, with me behind them to make sure they got in safe. As soon as everyone was in the bus, I slammed the doors shut, breathing heavily from fear.
“You ok?” I quickly asked Steve who looked a bit shaken. He nodded quickly. The dogs were ramming themselves against the locked doors, trying to get in. The bus was getting shaken from the dogs hitting it, resulting in screams of terror from the kids.
“They can’t get in!” I reminded them, hoping to calm them down, but a few of the dogs heads were sticking in through the door. Steve grabbed his bat and started hitting them. Dustin ran to his bag where he grabbed his walkie-talkie and started pleading for help.
“Is anybody there?” He asked. “Mike? Will? God?! Anyone?!” One large blow to the bus made everyone scream. “We’re at the old junk yard, and we are going to die!”
The roof of the bus was getting hit hard, and we could all see the dents caused by the blows. But what we didn’t realize was that one of the emergency exits at the top of the roof was open. One of the demo-dogs was on top of it, peering down at a frightened Max. As soon as she screamed, Steve and I rushed over screaming “out of the way,” pushing the kids behind us. We took out our bats and started swinging at the dog.
“You want some?!” Steve hollered. But the dog suddenly snapped its head in the opposite direction. It retreated and all the other growls and blows to the bus stopped. Nobody dared to make a sound as Steve and I stepped outside the bus to make sure it was clear.
“What happened?” Lucas asked firmly, stepping outside along with Dustin and Max.
“I don’t know,” Max replied.
“Do you think we scared them off?” Dustin asked.
“No,” I said, turning to the kids. “They’re going somewhere.”
“Head inside and gather the stuff, we’ll be right in there,” Steve told the kids. They all ran inside to gather the hunting supplies.
“Bad-ass once again,” Steve said to me flashing his charming smile.
“You really like those kids, don’t you?” I replied.
“They’re good kids,” Steve said.
“Yeah,” I replied, smiling. You know, you’re kinda like a soccer mom. All protective and stuff” Me and Steve both broke out into hysterical laughter.
“Nah, more like a crazy latina mother,” Steve added. The laughter died down, and we knew we had to talk about what was gonna come next.
“Do you think everything will turn out okay?” I asked, fear in their eyes.
“I hope so,” Steve said, cautiously reaching out for my hand. I took charge and gripped his tightly. We both turned to look at each other.
“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said.
“I know. And if any dog tries to hurt you I’ll swing at it with my bad-ass bat until it’s dead three times over.” Steve snickered.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s check on those kids.” Hand in hand we began to walk back towards the bus.
When I was a kid and I felt bullied, I didn’t have any hospice, I didn’t have anywhere to go that I felt understood, and now I’m really happy to be a part of a show where I think kids who look like me are going to have an understanding of somewhere to go.
Summary: In which you and Jungkook attempt to fake a relationship for revenge and end up with a lot more than either of you expected. Genre: Angst/Fluff, Fake Dating!AU Word Count: 4,072 Author’s Note: 12 fucking pages of notes and outlines and ideas have led to this. Please enjoy. Title taken from Taylor Swift’s Wonderland. I’ll try to upload part 2 within the next few days depending on the response.
To say you are completely floored would be an understatement as you unconsciously curl your fingers tighter around the phone pressed against your ear, confusion and questions settling itself across your features as you try to put a rational thought into this situation only to come up completely short because—!
“What do you mean you’re going to be late?” You demand, trying to keep the nervous touch out your tone, but it’s hard to sound casual when your heart starts to pound a little quicker at the thought of plans not going the way you had once envisioned it to go. “You realize the only reason I’m here is because you insisted that I had to come with you!”
“I’m really sorry (Y/N)-ah!” Hoseok says from the other side of the line, at least trying to make an effort to sound apologetic. “Class ran really really late, and there’s traffic. There must have been an accident or something.”
“I knew we should have just gone together,” You huff out, high heels tapping loudly against the sidewalk pavement as you continue making your way to the restaurant. As much as you would rather simply wait around for Hoseok to arrive to the scene, the idea of just sitting in your car makes you feel slightly congested. While you would be slightly uncomfortable in the restaurant given the company you are about to surround yourself with, it’s better than sitting in the dark.
I really like how the last arc segued into this one through Arima and Kaneki both belatedly realizing they loved each other. In retrospect it really opened the dialogue for all the different ways characters process their feelings, and how their individual histories sometimes make it hard to receive those feelings from others.
Arima and Kaneki were both so blinded by their hatred towards themselves that they failed to see how another person might care about them.
Urie was so obsessed with shouldering everyone’s burdens and trying to get approval that he didn’t know there were people already proud of him. Kuriowa was raised in a family that values love over work, and he reached right out for Yoriko… the list goes on.
Mutsuki, however, is a person who does not know real love at all. This is what struck me most about his dialogue this chapter:
“Don’t go away.”
The poor kid is so emotionally devestated that somewhere back in the confines of his mind he equates Haise’s presence to his happiness.
“When you’re not here… without you, I…”
Mutsuki’s capture and ultimate collapse began with Haise leaving. If it weren’t for the attack on the LE building, Haise never would have stepped down, Mutsuki never would have moved forward to find strength on his own, wouldn’t have gone to recon at Rue, and never would have been tortured.
Or so he thinks. Haise was there when he was at his most stable, so Haise needs to stay here for him to be happy again, because happiness is love and how else will a “disgusting” person like himself get love if he doesn’t force it?
Mutsuki’s was beaten by his father. T*rso wanted Mutsuki and took him. Haise was genuinely loving, but even then Mutsuki’s experience is shrouded in jealousy.
It’s not Mutsuki’s fault that he feels this way. It’s not his fault that he’s teetered into a mess of violence, self-deprecation, and self-harm. Unfortunately, it’s a very real reaction to the highly traumatic life he’s lead. He absorbs and refracts behaviors of his abusers because they’re the only models he’s had to go by– and right now they’re the only kind of person he understands.
It’s not to say that Kaneki’s presence in his life didn’t leave a positive impact though (idolization aside), because he certainly seemed to be on a healthy way at the beginning of the series.That Mutsuki is still in there somewhere, waiting to come back, and now the only way I can see him finding a way out is for Mutsuki to be receptive to how much someone else genuinely loves him back.
So, I honestly believe that this arc will close the way it began:
be it romantic, platonic, or familial, people with find the mutual love they need.
There are five (5) types of Lucy popular in fanfiction!
1) Rich bitch Lucy. She’s mean for no reason, probably a bully. May have killed a man in the past, but no one knows for sure. This is the reverse fuckboi Natsu. He’s going to “change” her because reasons. May be a gang related AU. Lucy’s father is a dick and Lucy may or may not murder him. Drives six cares. Is unnecessarily cruel to everyone, especially Natsu and sometimes Loke. Has some kind of rivalry with Erza. The only person she’s ever nice to is Levy, but no one knows this until halfway through the story. The only reason for Lucy acting this way is that her mother died.
Sometimes included, but not required:
Lucy may be a cheerleader and whoever she’s paired with is either a jock or a nerd. There is no in between.
Lucy’s only friends are Levy and Virgo, but she’s not exactly nice to either of them.
2) New Girl Lucy. Generally canon compliant. Lucy is either a runaway and no one knows, or her father moves a lot because of business. This is the eighth school she’s been to this year and she’s determined not to get attached to people. Utter bookworm. Only friend is Levy, also a nerd, and potentially Juvia/Jellal, both social outcasts. If bullied by either Gajeel or the Sabertooth crew. Natsu (a jock of course) “saves” her after ignoring her existence for three weeks. She probably ends up tutoring him or something. Lucy probably writes poetry and there’s some sort of scene where she’s humiliated by the antagonist, who’s found one of her poems/songs/etc and is now reading it in front of everyone.
Sometimes included, but not required:
fuckboi jock Natsu. New girl Lucy may be compliant with Player!Natsu and she may “change” him as he suddenly falls head over heels for her.
Levy is supposed to be her best friend, but is mysteriously absent whenever something bad happens to Lucy, allowing white knight Natsu to swoop in.
3) Dragon slayer Lucy. She’s been kicked out of/left the guild because Lisanna came back and now everyone is ignoring her. Was kicked off the team. May or may not have been abused by members of the guild, likely Natsu and Erza, maybe Gray. The only people that still talk to her are Levy, Gajeel, Mirajane, Wendy, and Happy. Lucy runs away to become stronger and magically meets the celestial dragon slayer. May or may not be introduced to the rest of the dragons. Is taught all the magic! Probably joins Sabertooth. Meets Fairy Tail at the Grand Magic Games. Beats up Natsu in a fight. Something happens and they realize they’re in love. Happy ending.
Sometimes included, but not required:
Lucy may or may not shack up with Sting/Rogue for a bit. Sometimes both.
Igneel and the rest of the dragons are utter dicks and have just been chilling somewhere while their kids go out of their minds.
Lucy’s dragon is probably called Celeste.
Lisanna may or may not have been manipulating the guild in some way, and when everyone finds out she’s either murdered or banished. Everyone tries to look for Lucy but can’t find her.
Happy is probably pissed at Natsu. He may even go with Lucy.
Alternatively may gain a bunch or random keys. Probably labeled as “platinum.” One of them is the dragon, Draco, and he’s super hot, with dark hair and eyes, but he’s probably an asshole. Has a human and dragon form.
4) Sex appeal!Lucy. Acts like Lucy from the first three arcs of FT. Is vain and naive. Overtly sexualized by the writer but has no idea what a penis is. Is Lucy but with no real world experience. All of her development was rolled into a ball and tossed in a dumpster (writers circa 2006-2010 get a pass on this, because they may only be familiar with early Lucy).
Sometimes included, but not required:
There might be really weird, awkward smut so… yeah.
5) Actual Lucy. Well rounded character. Would do anything for her friends. May have self-doubt issues, but learns to overcome these without magically learning a new type of magic with no restrictions. Is generally sweet, but doesn’t take shit from anyone. May be witty or sarcastic, but is never inherently mean about it.
Sometimes included, but not required:
Everyone’s little sister.
If AU, probably lives alone in an apartment with a dog. Usually small, a terrier breed.
Pairing: Sam Holland X Reader
Summary: The reader is lifelong friends with the Holland twins, but begins developing feelings for her best friend Sam after Harry, Tom, and Harrison leave to travel the world for press tours. Things become even more chaotic when they fly back home for the holidays.
Warnings: Swearing? P sure that’s it?
Word Count: 1659
Home For the Holidays
You had grown up going to school with the Holland twins your whole life. You spent more time at their house than your own. Nikki and Dom were the parents you had always wanted, and treated you like one of their own. You were part of their family, and Tom and Harrison looked out for you like big brothers, while you babysat Paddy for most of your young life. You even had a massive, but very short-lived crush on Harry when you were 7 that you’re still embarrassed about to this day. But something shifted recently. After Tom and Harry and Harrison all left to travel the world for filming and press tours, while you and Sam stayed home to go to school, you fell in love with your best friend. You and Sam had always been the closest, ever since your first year of school together. He was the only boy in your grade who offered to take you to the school nurse when you scraped your knee on the playground, and you talked the whole way there. He was so proper and grown up for his age and even promised to give you half the cookie in his lunch box. The next day he invited you to play with him at recess and you met his brother Harry, and the three of you had been close to inseparable ever since. Today, you’re both 18, going to acting school together, and the rest of your friends were all over the world now, or going in different directions with their lives and careers. Currently it’s the middle of December and it’s the standard London winter. Sam knew you had a lazy day today and invited you to lunch, like he did any day you had free. These lazy day lunches were a tradition because it was so freeing for you both to say whatever’s on your minds. You could tell Sam anything and he’d listen, and that’s why he would be the first you’d tell everything to. Today you hid from the cold London winter inside a coffee shop where you both ordered the same brew of hot tea. He has a strange look in his eye, like he’s nervous about something. “Hey, I was thinking, you know Harry and Tom are coming home next week for Christmas and I was wondering if you’d like to come over to spend it with us? I mean I know you’ll probably have other plans and you might not-” “Sam, I’d love to.” “Really?“
You couldn’t tell him why you said yes so quickly. You couldn’t tell him that after all this time you’ve been spending together you’ve started to develop feelings for him. You couldn’t tell him that any opportunity you got to be around him felt like the best moment of your life. Instead, you tell him, “It’ll be so great to see Harry again. I can’t wait to give him shit about tripping outside his hotel last week on Tom’s Insta story.” You almost felt guilty lying to him. You’ve never lied to Sam about anything. That’s how you stayed close. But you knew the last thing you needed is to lose your best friend, and telling him just wasn’t worth the risk. The next week you and Sam drove to the airport to pick up Tom, Harrison, and Harry. Any time you stopped, you couldn’t help but catch yourself looking over at him. Every freckle on his face, the creases of his smile, it was just so hard to comprehend how you hadn’t noticed before. How hadn’t you felt this way about him your whole life? Your daydreaming was brought to a hault as you parked and went to help the boys with their luggage. On the drive home, the boys slept in the back seat, exhausted from such a long flight. Immediately as you walked in the door you were greeted by Tessa jumping around in excitement. Dom and Nikki had put up quite a few decorations since the last time you were over, and it finally felt like Christmastime. Harrison and Tom went to nap, while Harry sat with you and Sam to talk about his week and tolerate the roast he had been preparing for. Sam went to bed early, and the moment he left the room Harry shot you a look.
“What the fuck did I do? What’s that look for?” ”You know exactly what I’m looking at you for.” "Don’t even try to bullshit you know exactly what I’m talking about.“ “No, I actually don’t.” “So there’s nothing you want to tell me? About you and Sam?“
"Harry, I-I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” “Listen he might not see it but I’m not stupid, you were definitely making eyes at Sam. I haven’t even been here for more than a few hours and I can tell.” “Is it really that obvious?” “To me?Yes. To him? No.” “Well he can’t find out and you can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “I really care about him and I don’t want-” “Do you not see it at all?” “See what?” “Sam’s been in love with you since we were kids. Why do you think he asks you to go somewhere with him any possible opportunity he gets?” “I don’t know maybe because that’s what friends do?” “Sorry I don’t spend my time desperate to talk about my mates the instant they leave the room, and I definitely don’t-” “You’re really serious aren’t you?” “Why would I make this shit up? Listen, I don’t see why you don’t just talk to him when he wakes up tomorrow? He’ll be floored when he finds out, and I’ll be happy that I won’t have to hear him talk about you all hours of the day anymore.” “Thanks Harry, I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.” You gave him a hug and called it a night. Since Harrison got Harry’s room, you both were stuck sleeping on opposite ends of the rickety sofa bed.
When you woke up Harry was already making himself breakfast, and Harrison and Tom were already eating theirs.
“Wow thanks for waking me up and making me breakfast lads. Very considerate. Great and Harrison drank the last of the juice too.” “I didn’t drink all the juice.” “Okay then why is it that I’m holding it upside down and three drops are all that come out?” “Well technically that isn’t drinking all the juice then.” “Hey where’s Sam anyway?” “I don’t know actually, he’s usually up by now.” Harry of course had to make a joke. “Hey why don’t you go find Sam?” “Very funny.” Of course Tom and Harrison weren’t too observant to begin with and fortunately suspected nothing. You walk over to Sam’s door which is shut for a change, and get the feeling that something is off. You knock on his door, and you hear a muffled, “Not now okay.” “Sam, what’s wrong?” “Not now okay, I’ve just-” “Sam if you don’t tell me what’s going on I’m coming in.” “Just don’t okay.”
You push the door open only to find Sam sitting on his bed with watery eyes and an angry expression. “Sam what the fuck is going on?” “Why don’t you fucking ask Harry what’s going on?” “Sam, just talk to me. You can talk to me about anything.” “Well I thought you could talk to me about anything too, but clearly you don’t see it like that.” “What are you talking about Sam?” “I fucking saw you last night.” “Saw me talking about-?” “I fucking saw you with Harry, you hugged him and you fell slept on the couch next to him last night and you told him-” “Sam, what I told Harry was that I-” “Yeah you told him you wouldn’t know what you’d do with-” “Sam you completely missed what was actually fucking going on-” “How could I? It was perfectly obvious what was going on. I was pretty sure you liked him for a while but why couldn’t you just tell me? I thought you trusted me?” “Sam! Would you just listen to me for one minute? Please? What I…What I was talking to Harry about last night was you. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time now, and I never told you because I worried about what you would think, and Harry was giving me advice. I thanked him and gave him a hug. That’s the part that you saw. And we slept on the fucking sofa because Harrison took his bed. I love you Sam, and I have for a long time, and I wish I had just realized all this sooner.” “But…I thought…I…” “Sam, you’re the person who I care about more than anyone else in the world.” “I…I’ve been in love with you since the day we met, and I never told you because…I always thought you liked Harry more and…I didn’t want you to think I expected anything of you. I didn’t want you to think that because of the way that I felt about you that I’d expect you to feel the same or want to be with me. I never would. That’s why I never-” “Sam how could you honestly think that I’d love Harry more than you?” “But…he’s the funny one, he’s the outgoing one, he’s the one who’s traveling the world and I’m just…me.” “But that’s exactly it. I don’t need to travel the world to be happy with you. Wherever we are, whether it’s that café a block from here or your house or school or anywhere else I’m happy because you’re there.” “I…had no idea that you-” Before he could say anything else you pulled him closer to you, and kissed him. As your hands brushed past his cheeks and through his hair, you couldn’t help but feel as if this was how it should’ve been all along.
Suddenly you’re interrupted by the sound of Harry shouting from outside the doorway, “Get a fucking room!” You immediately throw Sam’s pillow at him, “We’re already in a fucking room dumbass!” Under his breath, Sam muffles, “This is why I fucking love you.”
You absolutely hated the idea of getting a tutor when you didn’t even need it. Your grades were excelling in the challenging environment, yet the teacher decided to act presumptively and assign you with a tutor, who happened to be the best in the class.
It was Peter Parker, someone you’d probably not notice if he wasn’t your tutor. After meeting him, he was almost inserted into your life and you welcomed him. If it weren’t for the stupid tutoring sessions your teacher made you do. You scowled at the book the two of you were looking at. “This is pointless. I have an A in all my classes!”
Peter smiled crookedly at you before looking back down to his book and mentioning in a casual tone, “You transferred to a completely different school in sophomore year. Not to mention, this school is for geniuses. Most transfers need a tutor.”
Glancing up at him, you added stubbornly, “I’m not a normal transfer.”
“Can’t say you are, Y/N Y/L/N,” Peter responded with a small smirk as he continued to talk about Computer Science. So, you weren’t a fan of people knowing who exactly you were. It’s not like any of your records said anything about your last name being Stark, and that means you weren’t technically lying about your father.
Withholding information isn’t lying. You just wanted a normal high school experience and, although you mended things with your dad, you didn’t want people to think that he got you into the school so you couldn’t handle it. Yes, he got you into the school, but that was just a stepping stone. You were trying your hardest to absorb all the information being thrown at you.
Not to mention the tensions at the Avengers Compound. Due to Sokovia and recent government problems, the team was rather split over the issue. You didn’t want the government to control the Avengers, but you knew the civilian deaths were a serious issue with Tony. Besides, he was set on keeping you out of the conflict itself. It still hurt to see the team you loved so much falling apart.
Yet another thing to worry about is Peter. He’s been very tired lately and he’s been trying to blame it on the schoolwork and late nights. What Peter doesn’t know is that sometimes, if his sleeve is rolled up slightly, you’ll see occasional bruises and cuts. You immediately thought that he got himself involved in something that he shouldn’t be involved in, but you dismissed the idea.
It’s Peter after all. He couldn’t have gotten in that much trouble. He was just a sweet, albeit slightly dorky, guy. There are so many things he could do, but Peter knows when to avoid a bad situation. That’s how he managed to stop the major bullying from Flash.
Little did you know, Peter was looking at you and noticing how tired you seemed. After the tutoring session, he asked if you were okay. Since you couldn’t tell him that the stress of civil war was keeping you up, you simply smiled and stated, “I’ve just been worried lately. You know, because of all the crime lately.”
Concern flashed through his eyes and Peter wondered, “Has something happened?”
“No, not at all. I’m just a bit nervous.”
You began to walk away, but Peter stopped you and said, “I could walk you home.” He wanted to stop by as Spiderman and keep an eye out, but he had no idea where you lived.
Raising your eyebrow, you simply declined, “No thanks. I’m waiting for my dad anyway. Besides, I don’t want you staying up late tonight because of homework.” To hide your obvious lie, you said the last part as if you were a worried mother.
“Thanks, Mom,” he teased before continuing, “Okay. See you tomorrow, Y/N!” You were surprised that he just dropped the conversation, but shrugged it off and continued to walk.
Peter almost ran home so he could get his schoolwork done before his night roaming began. His mind went over the conversation with you. He was still concerned over you losing sleep and decided to see if he could find your address off the school directory.
It hadn’t been updated yet, so you weren’t there. Peter hesitated until he finally just typed your name into a search bar. Yes, he knew that this was slightly creepy, but it was good intentions, right?
Not much came up for your name. Miscellaneous things appeared like some awards you won at your old school. It wasn’t until he stumbled on an article that had recanted its statement. There were some photos of you, leaving what was Stark Towers. No one had any idea why you were there. Tony Stark had replied to the author that your mother was a friend of his and he had given you a summer internship.
You knew Tony Stark? Peter’s eyes widened and his mind raced. Why hadn’t you told him? You knew how much Peter looked up to Tony Stark. Maybe he could casually bring it up in conversation. He groaned slightly to himself, realizing he’d have to explain how he had stumbled upon an obscure article about you. That would seem creepy probably.
Groaning again, he closed the browser and shut his laptop. Of course he found out something about you, but Peter had no idea where you lived. All dreams of protecting you dissipated and reality came crashing back. You’d never like him. You’re just hanging out with him because Peter’s your tutor and one of the only people you knew at Midtown.
When the battle between Avengers was inevitable, you almost shut down in on yourself. Peter was extremely worried for you. Was the transition to Midtown hard? Your grades weren’t suffering, so it couldn’t be that bad. You told him a bit about your old school, and never in a nostalgic way.
Maybe it was personal? It shocked Peter at how little he knew about you. Sure, you met Peter that year, but it’s been a while since you first met him. He would have thought to at least know what your family was like. Some little comment about your mother or father.
You said nothing about your family. Maybe it was a family issue. He stared at you as you did your work. Peter was supposed to be tutoring, but he was too distracted by the dark circles under your eyes, signifying a consistent poor sleep schedule, something Peter knew all too well. He would look over at you from time to time, wishing he could do something.
The Avengers Compound seemed practically empty without everyone there. Wanda was shipped off to another compound, where Steve and Clint broke her out. Natasha stayed, but seemed distant as well. You silently did your homework on the counter in the kitchen when Tony walked in. He paused at your appearance. The Accords and everything had distracted him from your wellbeing. You obviously looked stressed over the upcoming battle.
He cleared his throat. You looked over your shoulder quickly, relaxing when you saw Tony. Walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder, Tony said in a reassuring tone, “You’re keeping up with the work perfectly. Once you’re done your homework, I want you in bed asleep.”
Simply nodding, you noticed his car keys in his hands and asked, “Are you going somewhere, Dad?”
“Recruiting the new Spider-kid,” he answered nonchalantly, “I’ll just pick up some dinner afterwards so don’t wait up.” Tony left you all by your lonesome, so you turned on some music while you did your homework.
About thirty minutes later, you felt your phone buzz on the table. Seeing it was Peter, you looked at it, not expecting much. It read, “Hey, I’m going to need you to collect my homework for the next few days.”
“Why?” you responded.
“I got an internship for Tony Stark!” You looked at the text in shock when another text came through from Peter. “By the way, anything you want to tell me?”
A strangled noise escaped from your mouth as the realization set in. FRIDAY immediately powered up and the voice resonated from the ceiling, “Miss Stark, I am unaware of that sound. Is everything okay?”
“He’s Spiderman!” you yelled at the AI.
“I am confused,” FRIDAY continued, “Is there a spider in the room?”
honestly ship whatever you want all you want but can we all collectively agree that it’s a really good thing peterick isn’t real, for the sole fact that those two men trying to raise anything more than a hamster together would be a fucking nightmare for everyone involved?
Summary:A sudden sitting job makes a turn for a surprise when there’s a promotion for the newest Spiderman: Homecoming movie at your kid’s school with the whole cast. Including Tom Holland himself.
A/N:The rare moments of inspiration… comes after midnight. Gsus guys it’s like 2AM here. I thought of this idea for a Tom Holland one shot, because of my history (adventures) in babysitting and being in the States for one and a half years. Oh and also the adorable interview with Tom and a kid gave me something extra to write with. And I KNOW this is supposed to be an Uncharted (more gaming) kind of blog, but I don’t care at the moment. Warned you guys this was going to happen sooner or later…
An Essay about LGBTQ+ representation and art, tied up with a bit of a tribute to Stephanie Rice.
I haven’t written something like this in quite a while. But I’ve been thinking a lot this past month about stories (even more than usual). So please be patient with all the caffeinated rambling I have to do here.
Needing to tell stories is something I have always known. There’s not a point in my life that I can look back on and not find in my younger self the intense will to put words and worlds, experiences and characters on paper. I’m sure this is a thing many artists and storytellers would say about their own lives. It’s the heart hammering, hand shaking need to find an outlet for experiences, passion, compassion and emotion that answers every “how did you know you wanted to do this” question with a “because I had to.”
Being gay is something that I haven’t always known. And yes, I can look back on my life and point to moments and insecurities and road bumps that came from having always been gay. But I haven’t always known. Knowing came later. Knowing came with combined fear and confidence and the ability to eventually shatter the brick walls I’d built to hold my shoulders upright, in order to look at myself more clearly. And then I knew, and now it’s as though I always have.
I spend a lot of time thinking about my experience coming out and the experiences of other LGBT people around me, and young kids who have come out and are coming out every day, either in quiet moments to themselves, or in one big fight with their families, or again and again each day to that Uber driver or that woman next to you on the plane, or your hair dresser who always asks who you’re dating. I spend a lot of time thinking about how that experience can be made easier, how kids can be received with more love, how we can better learn who we are before the years of self doubt. And no matter how much I think about anything, I am almost always brought back to the same two ways to fix anything. 1. Through giving and compassion and 2. Through art and stories.
With each generation in the LGBTQ community, the groundwork is laid for the ones that follow. From fighting for our right to live and be seen, to demonstrating that we’re just like everyone else, the generations before mine have laid a foundation that I am fortunate and humbled to stand on. In that light, I really and truly believe that it will be my generation that brings us alive, as a community, through art, that tells stories and writes songs so that generations after us can see themselves a little sooner, can look up to more than just a handful of queer artists, can grow up knowing and with families who know that there is no one normal, no cookie cutter sexuality, no right experience.
I have few memories of experiencing media that was specifically gay, growing up. But one of the clearest I do have is watching Pretty Little Liars with my mom. I grew up in liberal Massachusetts, outside Boston with loving, accepting parents. Even still, I can vividly remember a time when Emily, a then high school student on the show kissed her girlfriend and my mother explained that she just “didn’t like to see it” that it was fine and she had “nothing against it” but “she’s just a little girl” and she didn’t want to think about it. I’m sure my mom’s response wasn’t different from many others. So often, the world is okay with kids being queer but not okay with showing them a world of experiences like theirs beforehand. My mom is one of the most loving people I know and I tell this story with a fondness. She’s always been accepting of who I am. I’ve always been safe and supported. There’s a chance she doesn’t even remember this moment because she loves me for who I am. But when all is said and done those moments happen all the time and they pile up and they mean something. They mean something because there are young kids, across the country, across the world, in less loving houses, with less accepting parents, who don’t have the word for what they feel for years and years, who are sheltered from seeing Emily Fields kiss girls on TV, who watch their parents turn off movies if two boys are in love. Those kids hear song after song on the radio where girls sing about boys and boys sing about girls. They’re raised on fairytales and animated films about Princesses who marry Princes or don’t marry at all. They flounder, they search, they look for themselves here and there and everywhere and they come up empty handed. They come up with one song by a niche band that no one else listens to, or one sad lifetime movie about a woman’s dead gay son, or one lesbian on a TV show who inevitably ends up dead.
It’s my understanding that art is never meaningless. That culture and stories are what shape who we are, our worldview, our communities. It’s my understanding that when we diversify those stories we begin to change the world, stone by stone, kid by kid.
Often, I hear other LGBTQ people talk about not wanting to be defined by being gay or bi or trans. But the more I grapple with it and the more I exist in this world, living in LA, working in television, fighting for my chance to tell stories, the more I want to scream it. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.I’m gay. Because maybe if I yell it loud enough some kid will hear it and say “hey me too.” Because maybe if I pour that pride and pain and passion into my art it will reach their television some day, their home, their couch, and even if it doesn’t change their dad’s mind, it might make them feel less alone or give them the right words for the pain and passion that they feel.
I never watched The Voice before last year. I turned on season 11, at random, because I wanted to watch Alicia Keys be a coach. At some point, I stopped. It was fun but these aren’t the kind of shows that feel like they’re for me. They feel like they’re for corn fed, middle America, fighting over this pleasant looking man or that palatable country singer. And while I’m a creative who appreciates the rise and fall and hopes and dreams of other creatives as stories, these weren’t ones I was ever invested in. This year, I again turned the show on to watch season 12. Only to watch the auditions because those are fun and I get one more season with Alicia Keys. I remember the moment the show played Stephanie Rice’s backstory. I was watching it with one of my good friends. I remember we both perked up a little more when we saw her holding hands with her fiancée. I remember watching in an odd, baited breath silence as Stephanie began to tell her story and finding myself choking up just a little. For me, that emotional choked up feeling came from hearing things that I recognized, from watching her talk about the fear of disappointing her little sisters and knowing that exact same fear, to the same hands shaking, heart in your throat need to prove it’s alright, to make your way, to have your voice heard. Even as a person who has been out for years, an adult who is comfortable and confident in my sexuality, that feeling is still there. And as I watched it and watched her speak her truth and kiss another girl back stage I was reminded again that some kid, somewhere on a couch was going to see this, and feel that reliability, and feel seen and understood and not alone. I was driven again to keep fighting to tell my own stories.
There is something significant about pain and diversity and art that isn’t discussed enough. Art is universal and can be interpreted and understood and seen and heard and felt by anyone. But there is a rare and often overlooked feeling that comes when art feels like it understands you. When someone says words or shows an emotion that you can put your finger on and say you’ve felt. I stuck with the Voice after that. I watched specifically to follow Stephanie’s journey. For one, because she’s an incredibly talented artist, and for two, because I have a distinct understanding of how much harder that fight to make your way is.
Just a few nights ago I was driving, after my last day at my job in the Shannara Season 2 Writers Room, at about midnight down the freeway, and I was loudly singing along to Stevie Nicks with my windows down. On my reverse alphabetical order by artist itunes library, Stephanie Rice’s cover of White Flag comes right after Stevie Nicks’s Edge of Seventeen. So I’m driving and I’m singing and I know every damn word to Dido’s White Flag because I’ve heard it a hundred thousand times before and it was never even a song I cared about or liked. But I hadn’t heard this version that many times. Here I am, twenty-six years old, yelling at top volume in my car feeling my head get sort of swallowed and overcome and numbed by emotion as I do. Because when another gay woman sang that song, it changed. Because when another person fighting and dying to get their pain and emotion out of their chest sang that song, it changed. Because the emotion she sang with is emotion I know. Because suddenly yelling that I wouldn’t put my hands up and surrender became about something different. I can’t tell you what someone else meant by their song or their voice or their story. But I can tell you how it touched me personally. And I grinned like a damn idiot in my car because I felt a little stronger and a little prouder.
I’m in the process of writing a feature/novel package with the brilliant Dawson Schachter. It’s a romance between two women. And as we work on it we keep having to remind ourselves of the reality that these stories don’t get told often, that the market for them is smaller, that they have to be palatable to the big wigs that will look at them. And that is infuriating and compromising and fucks with every better angel and creative demon you have, let me tell you. That’s the ugly part people don’t talk about. That’s the reality of being an LGBTQ creator. Being too gay or too different or not gay enough, not sensational enough, being martyred to your community when you would love just a little less pressure today, knowing the pressure is the only way, being brave because anything else has never even been an option you were given, feeling like failure means letting down that kid who needs this story, feeling like it means letting down the kid in you who needed this story and now just needs to get it out. But I also know how inspiring all those feelings can be and how it can feel like singing along at brain numbing volume to White Flag with your windows down going 90 on a freeway at midnight in Los Angeles far away from your home and your family.
To Stephanie Rice, thank you. With as much weight as I can put in those two words, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for so bravely sharing your story and your art with America. Your vulnerability and light brought a story to televisions across this country that people need. And despite that particular journey wrapping up last night, I have no doubts that you will go on to keep sharing your soul through your music. As a fellow woman, as a fellow storyteller, you reminded me why I’m doing what I’m doing and I am so grateful to have gotten to hear your truth. You have a friend and supporter in Los Angeles if ever you need one. I look forward to hearing everything else you have to tell the world.
To anyone else reading this, my friends, young LGBTQ followers, fellow writers, coworkers, strangers consider this very long ramble a plea for you to continue to back and support LGBTQ artists and youth. Continue to lend them platforms and elevate their voices. Continue to diversify the stories you tell, paint televisions and movies and the radio with kids that look like them, that sound like them, that feel like them. And please, also consider this very long ramble, another in a pile of promises I’ve already made to you, that I will never stop doing everything I can to illuminate your hearts and your souls and your stories. If I have to scream them or deliver them from the ground with bloody knuckles, I will make them heard. I hope that together, we can continue to build a foundation for generations after us, through art where exposure has opened hearts and minds, where stories have saved lives, and art has changed the world. We fight, as we always have, for a better, louder, prouder, safer, and more inclusive future.
Yongguk: I have a feeling this tsundere king would love it. He’d cherish every little hug and kiss from you, and tbh he’d start to depend on that kind of affection after a while. Coming home and not being showered with kisses just didn’t seem right to him. Eventually he’d start warming up even more with you around, and an affectionate side will soon blossom.
Himchan: he’d like this to an extent, only if you weren’t so obvious in public. He’d probably liked to keep this side of your relationship to the safety of your own home, so PDA would be a big no no at first. Over time he’ll be accustomed to hand holding and cheek kisses, but that’s as far as he’ll go bc you know he’ll turn into a tomato.
Daehyun: you just met your match!! This kid can’t go 5 minutes without having his hands on you somewhere, and will whine and whine until you stopped being a tease and kissed him. The other members will constantly be teasing you both bc it’s pretty clear sometimes they’re uncomfortable with all the “no, you hang up first” and the “no, ily more bb”
Youngjae: will try and fool you into thinking he’s shy about it, but low key enjoys you leaning in every minute and pressing a kiss to his neck. Ofc you have to expect him to be like this in front of the others bc he can’t make it known that he’s totally in love and smitten with you. Giggles whenever you’re being blunt, “Youngjae-ah…come here and kiss me already”
Jongup: he just….he wouldn’t know what to do with you bruh…he’s already head deep in love and now you just made him even more shy and smiley. Tries to hold back on his own affection, but tbh you’ve changed him from the shy bunny he was, to a whiny baby who will pout until you give him the appropriate amount of kisses.
Zelo: well he’s just thankful that he never had to be the one to initiate makeouts or random cuddle times. He’s already teased enough for being the baby, so with you he really feels like a man when you show him nothing but love…esp in public, bc he won’t hold back. Expect lots of forehead kisses and Eskimo kisses whenever you’re out walking or getting something to eat.
Request- Hey could you do a Derek Hale x reader imagine where the reader is pregnant and Derek downs know. Her scent changes because she is pregnant,but Derek thinks she’s cheating and accuses her. She starts crying and leaves. Peter then calls him an idiot and tells him that she is pregnant. Meanwhile the reader is Scott’s cousin, so she goes to his house and the entire pack is there. Derek comes to apologize and they make up. Thank you so much and I’m so happy that you’re back. ❤❤❤
A/N- So, I did not exactly add that last part in there, but enjoy!
“Y/n, can you grab me another beer?” Peter asked.
You snorted and continued to walk past him on your way out of Derek’s kitchen. “I don’t remember anyone ever offering you the first one.”
You headed over to the couch, smiling as Derek glared at his uncle. Peter liked to show up to the loft uninvited, and Derek usually didn’t feel like starting the argument to throw him out. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t leave eventually, but neither of you wanted to deal with him talking circles around you.
“I think we should just kill him,” you murmured in his ear. “Again.”
“Yeah,” Derek said gruffly.
You came around the side of the couch and sank down next to him, snuggling into his side. He suddenly tensed at your touch, and you pulled away to look up at him. “Derek? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“We’ve been through too much for you to say that to me,” you reminded him, sitting up straight.
“Forget it, Y/n,” he said gruffly.
“Derek, come on-”
“You wanna do this in front of him?” He gestured to Peter, who simply raised his eyebrows at the two of you.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Derek’s uncle mused. “Please, Y/n, continue.”
You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off. Derek, seriously, I don’t understand what’s been going on with you-”
“With me?” he demanded. “I’m not the one who’s been sneaking off all the time, making Scott give me half-assed explanations about why you’re suddenly not at his house anymore.”
“What?” you demanded, swallowing thickly.
“If you want someone to cover for you, you might want to pick someone who’s a better liar. Your cousin sounds like he doesn’t even believe himself half the time.”
“Oh dear,” Peter remarked, leaning forward eagerly.
“Not to mention you smell different,” he continued, not letting you get a word in. “I couldn’t place it before, but now…it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” you asked slowly.
“You’re cheating on me.”
“What?” you choked. “Derek-”
“I thought you cared enough about me to at least end things, but obviously not.”
Peter cleared his throat. “If I may-”
“Shut up, Peter,” he snarled.
“You think I’d cheat on you?” you whispered. “You really think that?
Derek blinked. “Wait…”
“No,” you spat, jumping up from the couch. “You’re always so fucking blind, Derek. It’s been that way since we were kids. Kate was just the beginning, and I thought things were different, but-”
You cut yourself off and shook your head, deciding to save your breath and grab your jacket instead. Derek jumped up after you. “Y/n, wait-”
You brushed off his hands, and yanked open the door of the loft instead. “Go to hell.”
He stood in shock, watching at your sharp eyes disappeared behind the rusted metal of the door. It slammed shut violently, echoing in the wide space of the loft. No matter how much interior decorating the two of you tried to do, you never seemed to be able to fill it with enough to muffle the sound.
“Well done, Derek,” Peter snarked, rising from the armchair and giving a sarcastic clap.
“I really don’t need this right now,” Derek growled back.
“She’s got a point, you know,” his uncle continued. “About you being blind.”
“You don’t have any idea what’s going on do you?”
“Then enlighten me,” he snapped.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Think. You don’t actually believe that Scott would cover for Y/n if she was cheating on you, do you?”
“I..I don’t…” Derek sighed. “No, I don’t think he would.”
“And Y/n smells different, you said? But not like another man, just different.”
“Just get to the point, Peter.”
“Maybe that has something to do with her hormones. And that’s a very short list of possibilities, Derek.”
Peter stared at his nephew pointedly, and Derek narrowed his eyes. His brows furrowed for a good three seconds, and then his eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh god.”
He was out the door faster than Peter could blink, running down the stairs after you. You were right, and he couldn’t believe he had been so blind. Up until a few weeks ago, Derek hadn’t believed you felt anything for him but love, and now he realized he was wrong to assume any differently. He just hoped you could forgive him, and that you were still nearby.
Luckily, he didn’t have to go far, and as soon as his feet hit the last set of stairs, he saw you sitting at the bottom. You were angrily wiping at your eyes, and as Derek slowly walked down, he felt guilt wash through him.
You heard his footfalls before you saw him, but you knew he was the one who had followed you down. No one else’s boots would sound that sheepish hitting the floor.
“Leave me alo-”
You froze, and felt your breath catch in your throat. “Scott?”
You let out a soft puff of laughter, and slowly turned to Derek. “Of course he knew. And of course he had to rub it in your face.”
Derek’s lips twitched. “I’m sorry I thought…what I thought. You’re right. I’m so caught up in what I think or feel sometimes that I don’t even see what’s happening right in front of me.”
“I know, Hale,” you said with a tired sigh. “And yet I love you anyway.”
“You could have told me,” he informed you, coming to sit next to you. “I don’t know what you thought, but I would have been there for you every step of the way. I would’ve gone to appointments, and shopping…”
“I just wasn’t sure a baby was what you wanted. I’m still not sure. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“We have to fight for our lives like, every three months, on average. Sometimes more than that. You wanna raise a kid in Beacon Hills?”
“We could leave,” he suggested. “Go somewhere safer.”
“You’d leave Scott? The Pack?”
“Scott’s been handling things on his own for a long time now. He doesn’t need us.”
“You need him. We both need him. And I wouldn’t mind staying…just as long as you want this too.”
Derek let out a soft breath, and reached forward to place his hand on your cheek. “Y/n, I want you. Every part of you, including that little guy inside of you.”
You stared up at him carefully, but you felt a smile forming on your lips. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
“Or girl,” he said quickly, flushing bright red. “I just…when I thought about it, I always imagined a boy.”
“You’ve thought about it?”
“All the time,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted this with you for a long time.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you suddenly felt an unbelievable warmth wash over you. “Me too.”
Derek leaned forward, pressing one soft kiss to your lips. “Good.”
He pulled away, brushing his thumb over your cheek as he stood up. “I should probably go get Peter that beer. To thank him.”
You sighed, and placed your hands on your knees to stand up. “He probably already got it out of the fridge himself.”
“We should probably go make sure he doesn’t take anything else.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “But then again, I think he’ll be fine on his own for a few more minutes.”
“Yeah?” Derek asked.
He smiled, and sank back down on the stairs. You took a seat beside him, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He pressed one soft kiss to your forehead and smiled to himself, unable to believe how lucky he was.
In the span of fifteen minutes, he had gone from being sure he had lost you, to convinced he was never going to let you go. And if he was being honest, that was a change he didn’t mind at all.
So all we've got to show after 8 years is 'Dean trusts Cas to make his coffee'? Are you fucking kidding me? If Dabb truly wanted to go somewhere, he'd do it - he's the showrunner, all he needs is half a line of dialogue between Sam and a random character to make it canon without ruining the build-up. Instead...
HOW OFTEN DO I HAVE TO EXPLAIN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BORING SAME OLD SOAP OPERA STYLE ROMANCE THAT NOONE WILL REMEMBER AND AN EPIC LOVE STORY BUILDING TO AN ENDGAME ROMANCE?!
HOW OFTEN CAN I YELL ENDGAME?
IT IS BUILDING, FFS YOU CHOSE THE LEAST BLATANT MOMENT FROM THAT EPISODE TO GET PISSY ABOUT. THERE WAS SO MUCH MORE THAT THE GA ARE MORE AND MORE AWARE EVERY WEEK.
CAS LITERALLY CALLED DEAN A BEAR WHILE TALKING ABOUT HOW DEAN SLEEPS AND THEY HAD A WHOLE HUNTER HUSBAND MONTAGE.
HOW OFTEN DO I HAVE TO COMPARE IT TO A DISNEY MOVIE?
HOW OFTEN DO I HAVE TO YELL PATIENCE JUST AS THE SHOW IS LITERALLY DOING?!
Damian was confident he could recognize Grayson from any angle and in any disguise. Currently, he’d found his brother in Madrid, Spain, wearing the same Spyral uniform he’d seen him in less than two weeks prior when they’d both found out the other was alive. He was standing, with his back to Damian speaking with another man with dark skin and dark eyes, who carried himself much like Grayson did. In the crowded city square Damian had little reason to think the other man would consider him a threat. By the time he would even consider it Grayson should have already recognized Damian.
He didn’t really care who the other man was. Only that his brother was in reach at last, and Damian’s tracking skills were of excellent use. He did not slow his rushed steps as he almost ran to his brother. The man he’d hardly had time to etch back into his memory again. The man he’d kept trying to convince himself really was alive and really had met with him earlier. He’d put his quest on hold, leaving Maya and Goliath to hunt down his errant brother for a proper reunion, one that wasn’t bogged down with Grayson trying to clear his name or whatever it had been he’d been doing.
Though to tell himself the truth, Damian would have to admit it wasn’t only for a reunion. In the months he’d been alive again he had lost the person he could go to for anything. With his fear and his worries. His weakness and his pain. And now that he had him back, the first place Damian ran to when overwhelmed was his brother.
“Grayson.” He announced, as he neared the men, letting the joy of finding him seep into his voice.
The man turned and Damian froze in place, his elation gone like smoke as he realized the man did not have his brother’s face. This was not Grayson.
“I’m sorry. I must have mistook you—” he started, stepping back.
Before he could move further to retreat from his mistake, the man shot forward, closing the distance between them. He scooped Damian into his arms before he could think to retaliate. Just as he’d been shocked by the man not being Grayson, he was struck by the realization that it had to be. He knew this hold like his mother’s and his father’s. Better than theirs in fact. One did not forget the feeling of being hugged or carried by Dick Grayson. However, that did not explain the face.
He watched as the man’s, Dick’s, hand reach up toward his face and motioned before the unfamiliar features smoothed into ones Damian knew well, a bright smile lighting up his face.