#misc imagines

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine your boyfriend Dr. House coming up with some creative ways to help your insomnia.

This was a man who knew a lot about different prescriptions that could probably help you with your problem. That’s why you went to him in the first place. He’d know exactly what to do, what might work best, what wouldn’t make you feel overly groggy and tired throughout the day, right?

It was a little surprising, but also not, that his mind didn’t immediately go towards pills.

Instead, he just gave you a very sly look. A grin, a little raise of the eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and took a step away from him. “Gregory - I need something real, something that’s going to help.”

“I can assure you, it’s very real,” He said, in that sarcastic-sounding tone of his. Despite how serious you were being, that did bring a smile out that you tried to hold back. But you knew that he saw it. “Oops, was I not supposed to suggest that?”

“Would you suggest that to one of your patients?”

“I don’t see how it would help with Acute Osteomyelitis but as long as the strangulation is kept to a medium, I don’t see how it would hurt,” He said, bringing up a patient that he had just helped to cure. There really was no winning against him. And he knew that damn well, as was evidenced by the look on his face.

“It’s going to be a long night,” You groaned.

[happyimagines]

Update

Hey guys!

Ghoul and I have had a lot of on our plates unfortunately due to work and school so we have been pretty inactive on the blog. Once school our for the winter break I should be back to posting regularly (or at least trying to) and in the meantime I’ll see if I can queue anything

As always we are accepting requests

[anotherfuckingdrimaginesblog]

Misc Requests Masterpost

Saihara, Ouma, and Tsumugi with a shy and easily flustered S/O

Nagito, Korekiyo, Kokichi, and Rantarou Trick-or-Treating with S/O

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine getting married to Wesley Gibson.

Your wedding wasn’t the most traditional thing in the world, but neither were you or Wesley. Even the way that he admitted his feelings for you, atop a moving train, wasn’t really ordinary. There was no white gown or tuxedo, there was no family or friends because to be fair, neither of you had either, and there was no walking down an aisle.

Just a dirty parking lot near where you had your first shared kill, a fitting memorial to the life that the both of you were leaving behind and the potential of something more - after all, the lot was said to become a shiny new apartment building. A justice of the peace was recieving a nice little paycheck to do barely an hour of work in this unconventional wedding, but that would make it all legal and legitimized. Your witness was some hobo who had just been around, living in some cardboard boxes over in one corner of the lot. He didn’t get a paycheck - you just gave him cash.

There you stood, a windy day, surrounded by abandoned vehicles and a very confused middle aged woman who asked no questions but just did what she was being paid for. You looked into Wesley’s big blue eyes, the ones thad had seen so much, and held onto his hands, which had done so much. He gave you a wink and you broke out into a grin. You couldn’t  hold it in.

“I love you,” He said, interrupting the Justice, and then laughed nervously, still somehow looking like a sheepish little boy despite, well - everything.

“I love you too," You said, not ashamed at all of interrupting. He side-eyed towards the woman who didn’t look pleased at all about having to pause.

“Can we hurry this up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’m going as fast as you will let me, Mr. Gibson,” The woman said, impatiently. You rolled your eyes and then stepped in closer to Wesley, waiting for the moment when you would finally be able to kiss him. You only half listened to the words. You were waiting for the stop. You could feel - you could feel Wesley’s heartbeat accelerating. His irises were so small now, focused, staring at you, really taking you in, his breath was hitching. One of his episodes. The not-panic attack panic attack. You squeezed his hand, and he nodded, knowing you were there with him. You counted under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear you, to count with you until finally, he felt like he could breathe again - and then  -

“You may now have your kiss,” The JOP said, stepping backwards. And you did, rushing up to meet him just as he let go of his hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close. Not letting you go. Promising with just those gestures that he never would. Not for anything in this world.

Requested by: @groovy-lady​

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a cast member of the Avengers and reading Thirst Tweets.

It was you, Anthony and Sebastian, sitting at the table with the fishbowls full of little bits of paper. “This is more intimidating than my audition was,” You laughed towards the cameras. “You go first, Seb.”

“I don’t even know what this means,” Seb laughed, unrolling one. “Sebastian Stan is one thicc B-I-H. Right - that’s kind?”

Anthony went next. “Anthony Mackie’s ass is the REAL America’s ass.”

“I concur.” Seb laughed. You were grinning between the two, finally reaching for your own. This was making you nervous. You were young, just twenty-two, having been nineteen when you first joined the MCU. All of this attention was still crazy to you. You unrolled it.

“I would let y/n y/l/n break MY back like a glowstick,” You read aloud. Anthony started to crack up beside you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to visualize that. “I think a chiropractor would be better at that?”

“Another,” Sebastian said, picking one out and handing it to you. You unrolled this one.

“Y/N Y/L/N can dick me while reciting a debate on feminism.”

Both men on either side of you were cracking up. You were just staring at the pieces of paper incredulously. “Ahh - well, that’s - gladly a topic that I’ll get into, um - obviously for, not against?”

It was revealed after the recording that none of these tweets were from people under the age of thirty. All older than you. All cougars, or moms or just people bored on twitter. “Christ,” You muttered. “I might deactivate.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Wesley Gibson helping you through your nightmares while you help him with his.

Wesley’s head lifted off of the pillow, his eyes already open, adjusting to the morning sunlight streaming in through the window. You had already been awake for a quarter of an hour, lying there, trying to get your breath back. Trying to calm the goosebumps that had broken out on your flesh, stopping the tears, get yourself together before you would have to get up and get ready for the day.

He saw that you were next to him, and would relax once more, though he’d put his arm around you and pull you in closer, shuffling himself forward to meet you in the middle. “Did you have another nightmare?” He asked, sleep still tainting his voice. All that you could do was nod about it. “Yeah, me too.”

You had both been through so much. Your own life was messy, but it hadn’t been anything compared to Wesley’s. But he was so strong, he felt strong, with his arms wrapped around you, with his naturally cherry-red lips on your shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to get us some coffee?” He asked, giving you the choice. He was always considerate like that. You thought for a moment and then slowly breathed out, ‘coffee’. But as he’d start to pull away, you’d clutch at him again, making him lay back down, relaxing against you. “Alright, I’ll make us some coffee in a little bit.”

“Do you have to go to work today?” You asked. He thought for a moment, humming against your back. Then you could feel him shaking his head. “I don’t have to either. Let’s stay like this?”

“As long as we don’t fall back asleep,” He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we can stay here.”

You found plenty of ways to stay awake throughout the day, only leaving the bed to use the bathroom or to top off on coffee - until Wesley just grabbed the whole machine, and plugged it in on the floor of the bedroom so you didn’t have to go very far. The night was coming and your nightmares would return but for now - life was but a good dream.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being the youngest member of the Avengers Cast, winning an award, but not being able to attend the ceremonies due to having a child.

It didn’t matter how much money you made from the movie, or how many invitations that you got sent to the award show, or how many designers wanted to put you in their clothes to show off for all of the cameras. What mattered was that your daughter wanted an apple juice and to watch Lilo and Stitch for the tenth time that week. And you would let her, despite the awards that you were nominated for. You stayed right there, at home where you should be, watching your girl get all settled in with her blankie and her juice, eyes glued on the screen that you were not allowed to change.

At the very least, you were able to use your phone to keep track of who was winning. Your co-workers, Scarlett, Robert, the Chris’s, Tom, they were all sending you selfies and wishing that you were there.

You were on the ballot for upcoming actor. Your role in the Marvel films was catapulting your career into directions that you haven’t even thought about - but there was also a lot of stiff competition and you didn’t think for a moment that you would win, and the thought didn’t even bother you.

Everyone on that ballet was deserving, and someone better would win, as it should be.

Tom Holland’s face appeared on your screen, a videocall. You raised an eyebrow to yourself, wondering why he’d be videochatting you during the awards. After another quick glance to see that your little girl was doing fine, you stepped into the next room and answered. “Come on Tom, stop buttdialing-”

And then you realized it was so far from a buttdial. He was on the stage. His phone was showing you all of the people that were sitting out in the crowds, the flashing cameras, the celebrities. And they were clapping and calling your name and whistling. The camera flipped so that you saw Tom being all grins.

“You won, mate! I had to come up and get your award for yah, since you’re not here! Anyone you want to thank? Err - you only have a minute before I think they’re going to kick me off the stage.”

You were shocked. Absolutely taken aback. “Oh - uhh - wow - guys,” You laughed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. And I’m sorry for answering the call in my pajamas, but when your kid wants a slumber party, it doesn’t matter what superhero you are,” You laughed, and heard some laughter from the other side of the phone. “Just - thanks everyone. That’s crazy. I can’t wait to tell my girl -” You moved to the doorway, and made sure that the camera was still on your face, keeping your daughter out of the public eye as much as possible. “Guess what, angel? Your daddy won an award!”

“Shhh! Stitch is talking,” Your daughter said. Apparently that was picked up by the mic because there was even more laughing on the other side of the phone.

“Alright, sorry, Stitch is talking, gotta go. Thanks everyone. See you later Tom!” You hung up and smiled, leaning up against a wall. You didn’t regret not going, spending time with your daughter took precedence over all but - okay, this was an incredible feeling.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine sticking up for Arnold Poindexter when the Alpha Betas try to take his violin.

You weren’t a part of any sorority, not really giving into the ‘school cheer ra ra’ sort of thing. You were there to get your education and then go into your chosen job field and be successful. But somehow, you had made friends and become an honorary member of Lamba Lambda Lambda, despite all of your intentions.

“Hey, jerk,” You had called out to Ogre one day when you saw the burly boy, who actually looked like a forty year old man, carrying a violin case that very clearly was not his. Ogre stopped in spot, and turned around slowly to face you, his expression that of constant confusion with a dash of rage. It was pretty obvious that were it not for Football, he wouldn’t be here at all. If it weren’t for Football, he probably wouldn’t even have graduated high school. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to take things that aren’t yours? Give it back to -” You read the name stitched onto the side of the case. “-Poindexter - now.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Ogre asked with a laugh - and then a burp, disgusting. It more so came out as rumbling noises. Had anyone ever taught him how to speak?

“I can’t do much about it,” You admitted, given how you didn’t have the muscles that he did, or the same instinct to smash into inanimate objects that he did. “But I’m sure that the security guard just over there might have something to say about it.” You crossed your arms in front of you, waiting for his response - waiting to run, actually, in case he’d try to charge at you for getting involved.

Ogre’s head turned to that of the Security Guard - one of the big ones who sometimes walked the campus. He gave out a grunting noise then passed the violin case back to a boy you hadn’t even seen before. Ogre was so big, his body was covering up the one of this poor Poindexter boy entirely. And then Ogre stalked off, giving you the finger as he went, making you roll your eyes. “He’s as thick as a rock, isn’t it?” You commented to Poindexter, making sure that he was okay. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” He said, checking over the case, and then looked at you, shoving his glasses back up. From the way he was squinting, he didn’t seem to be seeing too well, even with those thick coke-bottle things on his face. “Thanks.”

Turns out you were headed the same way so you walked together, at first insulting Ogre, and then talking about violin. Eventually introductions were made and your fate was sealed. By helping Arnold, you became a part of Lambda Lambda Lambda.

Requested by: Anonymous