#I need to know if he's alright and with his family

[lovesickhughes]

SILVER BELLS   — nico hischier x reader 

a/n: happy december! here is the first of my upcoming christmas series. i loved writing this so much and feel like it was a great way to start the holiday season! a big thank you to @hughesinthebox for helping me with the ending of this fic, it honestly made it 10x better and more adorable, i appreciate you! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻🎄🤍🧣

tags: nico hischier x reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy (not the reader), FLUFF TO MY CORE

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Alright, just one more button and you, my little munchkin, will be all ready to go,” You heard Nico coo to your eight-month-old daughter as he buttoned up her cotton onesie that provided an extra thick layer of warmth to take on the brisk December air. As for yourself, you paced around the main room of your parent’s house, gathering all the last belongings you needed for the family outing. 

Thankfully this year, the Devils’ schedule aligned perfectly with the holidays, giving you ample time to share with your family before Nico would soon be back to his busy schedule and captain responsibilities. 

Nico and you were visiting your parents in your hometown for this week, before travelling to visit Nico’s side of the family the following week. While your family decided to stay at home and spend time watching Christmas classics, your brother and sister-in-law, as well as Nico, you and your daughter Ivy, decided to attend the city’s Christmas market and Christmas tree lighting. 

You remember as a child, experiencing the amusing sights of all the houses in your neighbourhood decorated with bright and colourful lights, so when proposing the idea to your siblings and husband, they all were more than happy to reminisce over your shared childhood. 

Nico delicately placed Ivy in the carrier, buckling her into the seat, making sure she was adjusted correctly, before grabbing his own coat to put on, picking it up from the dining room table and sliding his arms through. When you had finished packing the diaper bag to go, placing it on the table next to Ivy, you peek over at your bubbly daughter, eyes growing soft at the sight of her features, knowing they were an exact copy of Nico’s. 

You sigh in content, “my sweet girl.” You said quietly, before reaching down to place a kiss on the soft skin of her cheek. As you stood back up, you felt the hands of Nico slide to your sides, squeezing softly, causing flutters to rush through your veins. 

You turned in your stance to face him, his hands still resting on your hips. 

“Hi, you.” You say through a giggle, trying your hardest to hold back the giddy feeling that erupted through your body. 

“Hi, baby,” Nico responded, leaning down to place a quick peck on your lips, before smiling into your eyes again. Your hands lift to come to his shoulder, resting around his neck and your hands finding the nape of his neck, scratching softly. 

“Thank you for getting her ready.” You thanked, smiling as you looked back to your left at your daughter who quietly babbled to herself. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” Nico responded with a squint in his eyes. He then reached down again to meet your lips, this time holding the kiss a few seconds longer with more adoration filled between. You both pull away, smiling at each other before getting your shoes on and bidding your goodbyes to your family staying home, and exiting the house to meet your brother, Noah, and sister-in-law, Lauren, who would be driving the group to the venue. 

Nico opened the one back door of the SUV, while you walked to the far side of the car, sliding into the middle seat to help Nico attach the baby carrier with Ivy inside, into the seat of the car, making sure it was secure for the drive to the market. 

“All ready?” Your brother asked from the driver seat, turning to look back at the three of you in the back row. Nico and you gave a nod, while Ivy was preoccupied with her new stuffed animal your Mom had gifted her as a welcome gift to Grandma and Grandpa’s. 

The drive passed by quickly, but the parking situation added an extra twenty minutes to the commute before you were all stepping out of the SUV. You walked to the trunk of your brother’s car, opening the door over your head and pulling out the stroller for your daughter and setting it up, while Nico began putting on the baby carrier he agreed to wear for the day for your daughter to have a better view. 

Placing the diaper bag in the bottom part of the stroller, you then reached in the side door of the car to unbuckle Ivy from her seat, her expression lighting up when she saw your face. 

“Hi, my sweet girl!” You exclaimed, mouth falling open in excitement, earning giggles and incoherent noises from your daughter who wiggled in your grip. Her legs bounced up and down in excitement as you held her slightly above your shoulders, and you pulled her in, peppering kisses onto her soft cheek. “Ugh, mommy loves you so much.” You mumbled into the side of her head while kissing the fluffy hood that covered her head. 

You turned to face Nico who already had his gaze landed on you, a look of adoration filling his eyes. The two of you swiftly placed your daughter into the carrier, Nico adjusting the straps on his shoulders, while you made sure the contraption was snug around all areas of your daughter to keep her safe. 

Once ready, the four of you and your infant set foot towards the city’s display. There was live Christmas music playing in the distance, while the noise of bustling cars and city life filled the background. 

“I’m glad we could do this,” Lauren said, and the rest nodded in agreement, “especially getting to show little Ivy the awesome Christmas lights.” She cooed as she looked towards Nico who had his arms out in front of him to let Ivy hold onto his fingers. 

You smile at the sight, feeling a warmth run through your veins. “Me too, I appreciate you both coming with,” You smile at your brother and his wife, “It’s almost time you two bring a little one like Ivy into the group.” You joke, nudging your brother who walked beside you, pushing the stroller for you, despite the protest. 

You arrive at the street that hosted the Christmas market, white tents being set up on either side of the street, all filled with small businesses selling their products. It varied from homemade foods like flavoured dips and jars of pickles, to handmade ornaments and other decorations for the holiday season. You all perused down the street, finding little gifts to give to your family members and friends. 

A couple of hours had gone by before the sun had started setting and the thick snow clouds began to cover the night sky. The plans followed that you would attend the Christmas tree lighting in the main quad of the venue, before heading back to your parents’ house for dinner. 

Ivy had periodically napped throughout the day, and thankfully had a moment of energy, perfectly enough at the time the massive sixty-foot tree would be lit up and glisten in the snow that had just begun to fall. 

The crowd gathered around, forming a circle around the barricades as the workers hustled in preparation. Nico stood closer, wanting Ivy to have a view of the lighting, while your brother stood next to him and they chatted amongst themselves. 

Lauren and you stood behind, gazing at the pair, a warm feeling in your heart at the sight. No one would have told you even three years ago that this is where you would be, married to the Devils’ captain with a kid. 

Nico had – without a doubt – changed your life for the better. He provided you with love and a sense of security and there was never a moment where he didn’t bring you joy. And to make it even better, sharing a child with the man you loved was the biggest blessing you could have ever received. She was your lifeline and more, and you wanted nothing more than to provide with all the love you had to give in your heart. 

The countdown began, everyone chanting the numbers in anticipation, and you peered over Nico’s shoulder to see your daughter’s reaction. When the number reached one and the tree erupted in a bright, illuminating essence, the squeals from your daughter made your stomach flutter in a mother-ly instinct. You smile at her and reach your hand and place it on her small torso, rubbing up and down as you whisper sweet nothings to her. 

You look up at Nico who is already smiling down at you, a bright smile erupting across his face before he leans down to kiss you. The kiss is soft, but filled with affection and desire. 

When you pull away, you smile at your husband again, before lifting yourself on your toes to place a peck on his rosy cheek, cold to the touch from the winter air. 

“I love you,” you speak softly so only Nico can hear. He smiles at you even brighter, placing another quick kiss to your lips. 

“I love you more, honey.” He smiled back. 

When you step back behind your brother and Nico, Lauren nudges your shoulder to reach your attention. 

You turn to face her, “Y/n,” she says seriously, “with the way Nico looks at you, and how you are as the most adorable little family,” she pauses, pulling you in closer to her frame, “I can’t wait to tell Noah we’re going to have one of our own.” She says through a smile, a shocked expression falling onto your face in excitement. 

“You’re kidding, when did you find out?” You asked excitedly. 

“About a month ago, I was waiting to share the news, but I felt like you deserved to know a bit before the rest.” She spoke softly, smiling. 

You gave her a quick, but tight hug, careful not to bring attention to yourself and sister-in-law. 

“Ivy’s going to be so excited to have a little cousin.” Was all you could think now having revealed Lauren was expecting. 

–

Later that night, after Ivy was fed with her bottle, and placed in her portable bassinet, Nico and you were now getting ready for bed, sharing the bathroom that was across the hall from the spare room you were occupying at your family’s house.

Nico had already changed, so after brushing his teeth, he made his way into bed, careful to not disrupt Ivy’s peaceful state. 

You follow shortly, turning off the hallway light and quietly retreating back to the spare room, avoiding making too much noise to prevent waking any other family members up. Shutting the door behind you softly, you walk to the side of the bed you would be sleeping on, quickly stripping from your sweatpants and sweater you had been wearing while watching classic Christmas movies with your family after a delicious dinner. 

Nico, from his side of the bed, reaches on his side attempting to reach for your bare hip that was only covered by the thin layer of your black lace underwear. He manages only to snug a finger under the fabric, letting the elastic snap back against your skin with a smirk written on his face. You playfully scold him for his attempt, before quickly slipping on your pair of Christmas themed pyjama shorts and matching button-up top. 

Climbing into bed, you immediately find yourself in the embrace of Nico, his arm wrapping under your frame and around your shoulder, while his other arm meets the side of your hip, his hand lightly gripping your body. 

“How was your day, my love?” You asked as a small whisper, cautious of your sleeping daughter. Looking up at Nico, you admired his features, his moustache growing more prominent as you insisted he regrow one after the month of November, and his tired but soft eyes looking at you. 

“Amazing, Ivy’s reactions made my whole world.” He smiled with excitement as he recollected his thoughts from today’s events. 

Before you could respond, his face nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent, his facial hair tickling your face and earning a giggle from your lips. You lightly push away from Nico, placing a kiss on his jawline before he laid on his back and you hovered over him. 

“You can’t say anything yet, and you’ll find out soon,” you whispered, “but, Lauren’s pregnant… she told me today.” You said through a smile, having to bite your lip to prevent yourself from making any noises of excitement. 

Nico’s eyebrows raised, eyes widened and mouth slightly fell open in surprise, “no way, good for them.” He smiled before he paused for a moment, looking like he was trying to gather the words to say something else. 

“What?” You encouraged softly, giving him a slight pout. Nico’s hand reaches and meets your hip again, slipping under your shirt to run his hand up and down your back. 

“Nothing, well–” he pauses, almost looking nervous, “it can’t help but make me want to have another one.” He states, earning a shocked expression on your face in return.

“Really?” You clarify and he responds with a nod. 

“Maybe not right at this moment, but I’d love to give Ivy another sibling or two. I want nothing more than to make a family with you and now that we’ve started, why stop?” He proposed. Your heart melted hearing those words fall across his lips, so much that words could not describe how you felt. You plant a slow, intimate kiss on Nico’s lips, Nico inhaling sharply through his nose at the contact before melting under you. 

You pull away, your breathing hitched. 

“So I take that as a yes?” Nico offered through a laugh, and nothing else would be a sufficient response other than bringing your lips to his again, nodding your head in agreement at the offer. 

Oh, how the Christmas season brings an array of holiday surprises. 

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, could you write a story about Franco Colapinto where he’s maybe super jealous/protective of her, something like that?

baby you're safe (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - protective franco, abusive family, tears, angst, fluff, flinching

The rain drizzled gently outside as Y/N sat on the plush couch in the corner of her shared apartment with Franco Colapinto. The soft hum of an old playlist filled the air, but her thoughts were louder. Franco was due home any minute, and she was dreading the conversation they needed to have.

Their relationship had always been a haven for her—a stark contrast to the chaotic and abusive environment she grew up in. Franco knew every corner of her past, from the shouting matches she endured to the nights she cried herself to sleep. He’d made it his mission to be her protector, her fiercest ally.

--

The sun was beating down on the bustling paddock as Y/N stood near Franco’s garage, chatting with a few team members. She had gotten used to the constant hum of engines and the organized chaos that came with race weekends. However, today, something felt...off.

"Y/N, you’re a lot prettier up close than I expected," one of the mechanics said, his tone dripping with something she couldn’t quite place but didn’t like.

She forced a polite smile, trying to shift the conversation back to something neutral. “Thanks. So, do you think Franco’s car will be good to go for qualifying?”

“Oh, it’ll be perfect,” the mechanic replied, leaning in slightly. “But speaking of perfect, maybe we could grab a drink later? I’m sure Franco wouldn’t mind sharing you for a little while.”

Her stomach churned, and she stepped back, forcing a laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

From across the garage, Franco had been keeping an eye on her, as he always did. When he saw the mechanic lean in, his jaw tightened. Then he noticed Y/N’s uneasy smile, and that was it.

Without a second thought, Franco stalked over, his boots thudding against the asphalt. His eyes were locked on the mechanic, but his hand reached out for Y/N, gently pulling her to him.

“Problem here?” Franco’s voice was low, laced with tension.

The mechanic looked startled but recovered quickly, smirking. “Nah, just getting to know Y/N. Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“You didn’t step on toes,” Franco said, his eyes narrowing. “But you’re about two seconds away from stepping on my patience. She’s mine.”

“Franco—” Y/N started, but he silenced her by gently tugging her closer.

The mechanic raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, man. Didn’t mean any harm.”

“Good,” Franco said, his tone sharp as a blade. But he wasn’t done.

Turning to Y/N, his intense gaze softened just slightly. “Come here,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding.

Before she could process what was happening, Franco cupped her face and kissed her, pressing her back gently against the stack of tires behind her. The world around them disappeared, the hum of the paddock fading into nothing. His lips moved against hers with a fierce protectiveness, like he was staking his claim for the entire paddock to see.

Y/N’s hands instinctively gripped his shirt, her cheeks burning as her heart raced. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm and heavy.

“You okay?” he whispered, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing her cheek.

She nodded, utterly breathless. “Yeah. Just...a little dizzy.”

His lips curved into a small, smug smile. “Good. That’s how I want you to feel every time I kiss you.”

“Franco,” she hissed, her cheeks flaming as she glanced around, noting the curious eyes of a few team members.

He didn’t care. Turning back to the mechanic, he shot him a pointed look. “If I see you so much as glance at her again, we’re going to have a bigger problem than your attitude. Got it?”

The mechanic mumbled an apology and quickly walked away, leaving the two of them alone by the tires.

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re so dramatic.”

Franco chuckled, pulling her hands away and kissing her knuckles. “Maybe. But no one hits on my girl.”

“Your girl?” she teased, though her heart swelled at his words.

“My girl,” he repeated firmly, leaning in to kiss her again, softer this time. “And don’t you forget it.”

She sighed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied with a wink, taking her hand and leading her back toward the garage.

As they walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe his overprotectiveness wasn’t so bad after all.

--

The small apartment they shared after the race weekend was quiet, but the tension between Franco and Y/N was palpable. The sun was setting, casting a soft glow through the windows, but it felt like their frustration was taking over the space. The argument had started over something as trivial as not putting the plates away after dinner, but it had escalated into something bigger, fueled by exhaustion and mounting stress.

“I told you to put the damn plates away,” Franco said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “How hard is it to just finish something, Y/N? It’s not that difficult.”

Y/N stood near the counter, her arms crossed tightly, her mind racing. “I was getting to it, Franco,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I don’t need you to remind me. I’ve got other things going on too.”

Franco let out a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but we’ve been through this before. It’s a simple thing. Why does it feel like everything I say to you gets brushed off?”

“It’s just plates, Franco,” Y/N muttered, exasperated. “Not everything has to be a lecture. I didn’t mean to leave them out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not asking for much. I just want things to be—”

He raised his hand to scratch his head, the motion so simple, so habitual, but the second his hand moved toward his face, Y/N froze. A sharp, unexpected flashback hit her like a wave, her breath catching in her throat. She saw her father’s angry hand, raised high in a threatening gesture, and heard the harsh words that followed it.

Her body reacted before her mind could fully process the moment. She flinched violently, instinctively stepping back, her heart racing in panic. The room seemed to shrink around her, her chest tightening, and she could feel her breath becoming shallow.

Franco’s eyes widened in shock as he saw her reaction. “Y/N?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was a thread of confusion in it too. He hadn’t even come close to touching her, but he could see the way she was trembling, the way she had pulled away.

“I... I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes fixed on the ground. “I didn’t mean to. I just... I thought...” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, the rush of fear and shame overwhelming her.

Franco’s heart sank. His stomach dropped as he realized what had happened. He immediately dropped his hand, his face softening with realization and guilt.

“Y/N...” he said, his voice breaking. He slowly stepped closer, cautiously, afraid to overwhelm her. “Hey, look at me. Please, look at me.”

She shook her head, trying to push the image of her father out of her mind, but it was hard. The fear still lingered, her body still stiff with anxiety.

Franco’s heart shattered as he gently cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to form in her eyes. “I would never hurt you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Never. I’m not him. I would never do that to you.”

She blinked, her chest heaving with deep breaths as she processed his words. She knew he wasn’t like him—she knew that—but the reaction had been so ingrained in her, so automatic from years of living with the threat of violence.

“I didn’t mean to...” Y/N whispered again, her voice raw, tears falling freely now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know you would never hurt me.”

Franco wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, his expression soft but filled with immense sorrow. “I never want you to feel scared of me,” he said, his voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry if I made you feel like that for even a second. You’re safe with me, always. I will never, ever raise my hand to you. You’re everything to me.”

She finally met his eyes, her heart aching as she saw the pain in his gaze. “I know. I just... sometimes the past feels so close. It’s hard to shake it.”

Franco pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. “I don’t want to remind you of anything from your past, Y/N. I just want you to feel loved. And safe. And I’ll do anything to make sure you feel that way.”

She closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “I just get so scared sometimes.”

Franco kissed the top of her head gently, squeezing her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

After a few moments of silence, Y/N pulled back slightly, her fingers gently tracing his jawline. “I’m really tired, Franco,” she admitted, her voice soft and vulnerable. “I don’t even know why we’re fighting over plates.”

Franco smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across her lips. “We’re both exhausted. Let’s just forget about the plates. I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she reached up to touch his cheek. “Me too. I’m sorry I snapped. It’s just... it’s been a long weekend.”

“I get it,” Franco said with a quiet sigh. “We’ve both been under a lot of stress. But we’ll be okay. We just need to take care of each other, okay?”

She smiled weakly, feeling the warmth of his embrace settle over her. “Okay.”

And in that moment, even though the argument had been small and silly, they both knew they’d have to work through the bigger things too. But for now, they were together, and that was enough to make everything feel a little bit better.

--

The paddock was alive with energy, fans crowding near the barriers to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Y/N was walking hand-in-hand with Franco, the noise around them blending into an indistinct hum. She had grown used to the excitement of race weekends but still found herself slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people.

As they passed by a cluster of fans, a girl lunged forward to get Franco’s attention, accidentally bumping into Y/N and causing her to stumble slightly.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the fan exclaimed, her face flushing red as she stepped back, hands raised. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, brushing herself off with a smile. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

But Franco’s reaction was anything but calm. He immediately stepped in front of Y/N, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice sharp and loud enough to draw attention. “Do you not see her standing there? Be more careful!”

The fan’s eyes widened, and she looked genuinely distressed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“She said she’s fine,” Franco cut her off, his tone still harsh. “But maybe next time, watch where you’re going.”

“Franco,” Y/N said, tugging at his arm. “That’s enough. Let it go.”

“She could’ve hurt you,” he insisted, his protective glare fixed on the fan, who was now on the verge of tears.

“Franco,” Y/N said firmly, stepping around him. “She apologized. It was an accident. Let’s just go.”

But he wasn’t done. “Accident or not, people need to learn to respect boundaries—”

“That’s enough!” Y/N snapped, her voice cutting through his.

The crowd had started to notice the commotion, and Y/N could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Franco standing there, stunned.

He quickly followed her, catching up as they entered a quieter area near the garages.

“Y/N, wait!” he called out, grabbing her arm gently to stop her.

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “What is wrong with you? She didn’t mean to push me, Franco! Why did you have to make a scene?”

“I’m not going to let anyone treat you like you don’t matter!” he shot back, his voice rising.

“She wasn’t treating me like I don’t matter! She made a mistake, and she apologized! You embarrassed her—and me—in front of everyone!”

“I don’t care about them!” Franco yelled, running a hand through his hair. “I care about you!”

“You care so much that you’re smothering me!” Y/N snapped, her voice trembling with frustration. “You act like I can’t handle anything on my own!”

Franco opened his mouth to respond but then stopped, his shoulders sagging. His face softened, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and shaky.

“I just want to protect you,” he said, his words breaking as they came out. “I wasn’t there when you were a kid, Y/N. I couldn’t stop the things that happened to you, and it kills me to know that you went through all of that alone. I just... I just want to make sure you’re safe and happy now.”

Y/N froze, her anger melting away as she saw the pain in his eyes.

“Franco,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“I know I go too far sometimes,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I know I embarrass you or make things worse. But I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you—anything that hurts you. I just want to do right by you.”

Her heart clenched as she reached up to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. “Franco, I’m okay. I’m here, with you, and I’m okay. You don’t have to carry that guilt. You’ve already done more for me than anyone ever has.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I’m sorry for making a scene. I just... I panicked.”

“I know,” she said softly, pulling him into a hug. “But you have to trust me to handle some things on my own, okay? I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’ll try. Just... promise me you’ll tell me if I’m ever too much.”

Y/N smiled faintly, stroking his hair. “I promise. And for the record, I love how much you care. Even if it drives me crazy sometimes.”

He let out a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You drive me crazy too, you know.”

“Good,” she teased, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Keeps things interesting.”

The tension between them finally dissipated as they stood there, holding onto each other. Franco knew he’d always have to find a balance between his protectiveness and her independence, but in that moment, all that mattered was that they were together.

--

Tonight, however, she feared his protectiveness would backfire.

The door creaked open, and Franco stepped in, shaking rain droplets from his jacket. His hair was damp, falling messily over his forehead, but his smile remained as he caught sight of her.

“Hey, cariño,” he greeted, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Missed you today.”

Y/N forced a smile. “We need to talk.”

Franco froze mid-motion, his brows furrowing. He straightened, his warm demeanor replaced by concern. “What happened? Did someone say something to you again?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”

He sat beside her, taking her hands in his. “Then what is it?”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I saw the article. The one where they’re saying I’m just with you for your fame. That I’m riding your success.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. His grip on her hands remained gentle, but the protective fire in his eyes burned bright. “Who wrote it?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

“It doesn’t matter, Franco,” she said, squeezing his hand. “What matters is how it’s affecting you. You’re already dealing with so much pressure in F2, and—”

“No.” Franco cut her off, his voice firm. “Stop. Don’t make this about me. This is about people attacking you, and that’s not okay.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason you’re constantly defending yourself or fighting with the media,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

Franco shook his head, his hands moving to cradle her face. “Y/N, listen to me. You are not a burden, and you are not a distraction. I don’t care what anyone says. You’re mine, and I will protect you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted. His voice softened as he kissed her forehead. “You’ve been through hell, Y/N. I know what your family put you through. I’m not letting anyone else hurt you. Not the media, not some creep at a party, not even me when I screw up.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh. “You’re too good to me.”

“Damn right I am,” he teased, brushing a tear off her cheek.

Despite the tender moment, tension still lingered in the air. Franco sensed it, and his tone shifted. “What’s really bothering you?”

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I’m scared that one day, this will be too much for you. That I’ll be too much for you.”

Franco leaned back, his expression hardening—not in anger, but determination. “Y/N, I need you to hear me loud and clear. This is not breaking us up.”

Her eyes widened at his intensity.

“We’ll fight, sure,” he continued. “We’ll have days where we annoy the hell out of each other. But leaving? Breaking up? That’s not happening. Not because of some stupid article or my career or your past. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly, overwhelmed by his unwavering resolve.

Franco sighed, his hands running through his damp hair. “I love you, Y/N. And when I say I love you, it means all of you—your past, your fears, everything. So please, stop thinking you’re too much.”

She smiled softly, leaning into him. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat like that for a while, the rain outside growing heavier. Franco’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, but he ignored it, choosing instead to hold Y/N closer.

“Let’s order pizza,” he said after a moment. “And after that, I’m finding out who wrote that article. They’re going to regret ever mentioning your name.”

Y/N chuckled, finally feeling at ease. “As long as you don’t get yourself banned from the paddock.”

“No promises,” Franco replied with a grin. “But for you? Worth it.”

[faeriekit]

tw: child death, baby death, chronic illness, grief, medical stuff etc. (it ends fine but we get into heavy topics)

Damian was an active, if sweet little boy. He wanted Alfred to inspect every one of his soft animals Bruce had given him upon his arrival to their new home every time Alfred went to wake him in the morning, and would hold them up for the butler to view them properly. He had particular favorites of meals (NOT carrots), activities (anything to do with Ace) and caregivers (Alfred). He agreed to be carried only so long that he could engage with whatever Bruce was up to at the time; otherwise, it would be demanded that Bruce would put him down for him to roam around Bruce's office to dislodge his many valuable knickknacks. Bruce loved his son more than he loved himself.

Danyal, on the other hand...

"It'll be alright," Bruce reassured the boy, whose fingers were still shoved in his mouth. The boy's big, blue eyes stared up at him with a solemnity that worried his father. Leslie had implied that Dany should have been beyond that self-soothing stage already, at the age of two, where his brother was already independent and almost social; Dany, however, seemed loathe to walk, and gestured to be carried often, and sucked on his fingers and rarely spoke.

Bruce clamped down on the diagnosis balled up in his fist.

Congenital heart defect. There was no easy solution.

(Bruce wasn't sure who, exactly, the reassurances were for.)

"We'll figure it out, buddy," Bruce whispered, bouncing his son ever so slightly. The boy's gaze hardly budged from his father's face. "We're very lucky; there are good doctors in Gotham. Some of them even knew your grandfather. Have I shown you your grandfather's portrait...? He was a doctor downtown, so he could help people. The last time I saw him, I wasn't that much other than you..."

Damian always wanted to hop, run, swing sticks in the yard, be tugged around by Ace or tug on the dog's tail when he wasn't willing to play with the human puppy any longer. Dany grew nervous the more active he got; when Damian tried to coerce his twin into play, Dany resolutely ignored him.

It was probably for the best. It was always terrifying.

The lethargy made the boy ever-so-patient when Bruce went to introduce his son to Bruce's long-gone father's portrait, but...Bruce would rather have a healthy, happy son than a quiet one.

If it was possible.

When it was possible.

...Seeing Damian so young, so happy, and so free from the League and its expectations made Bruce want to cry, some days. Someday soon, all his children would be home in some manner or another. Dick. Jason. Cass. Stephanie. Barbara, if she was willing to follow the same path as her previous life. Tim. Even Duke, if only in passing— unless Bruce was doomed to fail the boy's parents in this new chance at life.

Danyal may or may not be there on that future day to see it: the house filled with joy, laughter, and family.

The fear tightened around Bruce like a noose.

*

The first surgery went okay.

Some doctor of Ra's had already inserted a shunt into his little boy at some point after his birth; it increased the amount of oxygen Dany could receive from his heart's fruitless pumping to his lungs, but eventually the shunt would need to be replaced with actual surgical repair to his boy's heart.

Dany went under. Alfred had to stop Bruce from storming into the OR at random intervals throughout the procedure.

Damian didn't understand the change in the routine or where his brother had gone over several nights, and often looked for Dany in his room, but Dany lay lethargically in his hospital bed, patient and drowsy-eyed.

He asked for the constellation encyclopedia the most out of all the titles Alfred had packed. Bruce began to memorize the articles within.

And then came the complications.

...And then came the second surgery.

*

Damian didn't know where Dany had gone.

Bruce didn't know how to explain it to him. Did Talia's family hold burials? Did they burn pyres? Were they simply submerged into the Lazarus Pit beneath her father's feet? Bruce realized that he didn't know. He didn't know how to tell Damian where Dany had gone, only that Dany wouldn't be coming back.

Damian threw a fit. It was developmentally appropriate for his age, no matter how much it hurt to watch his son rage. He couldn't understand. Bruce could hardly understand; how could this happen? How could it have happened to Dany? Dany hadn't deserved this. Damian didn't deserve to lose his brother.

Bruce dialed for a pediatric therapist, but no matter how reasonably Alfred begged, he didn't call one for himself.

*

"Baba?"

Bruce was dreaming. He had to be.

"Dany," he whispered. It was night. He was asleep, in bed— and was more exhausted than he thought, if he was already imagining the voice of his dead son. "Dany, aren't you sleeping?"

There were little hands on his bedspread. Dany had never been willing to climb anything; this was a new dream, then, if Bruce was imaging things Dany might have done if he were well. "M' scared. Iss lone'y."

Bruce's heart cracked. Yes. He could imagine that Dany was lonely, out in the family cemetery out back. Still... "Your grandparents aren't keeping you company?" Dany wasn't alone out there. Bruce never would have done that to him.

Dany's fragile little form popped over the side of Bruce's king-size bed, hair aglow with moonlight, eyes a lazarus green. Still, though, he looked like Bruce's baby. How could Bruce not recognize him, even if he came in a different form than usual?

"S' too kwiet." Dany's voice was a whisper— the rough little thing that children do, when they aren't old enough to be quiet yet. Tears pricked at the corners of Bruce's eyes.

"Okay." Bruce had done this routine a thousand times, even with children he had yet to meet: he opened the covers up to the ghost of his son, and Dany crawled right into the warm space left for him by his father.

The little yawn in his ear broke Bruce's heart. He wouldn't have this in the morning. Damian deserved to be more than a vessel for his father's grief, so Bruce would sit up, alone, until the worst of this had passed.

Sleep. Bruce closed his eyes. This dream, too would pass. So would his grief. So would this night.

...But when sunlight woke him at six in the morning, as it had the morning before, there was a black-haired boy in Bruce's arms, his irregular heartbeat and little breaths entirely audible to Bruce's ears.

I have seen batfam fics and ideas where time traveling Bruce gets the kids earlier and stops all the bad things from happening to them. But I can't help but want to combine this with the DCXDP demon twins AU.

Imagine time traveler Bruce showing up at the league of assassins years early demanding his son... Only for two children to come out. Now he is forced to learn he had another son no one told him about. He has no clue what happened to Danny in the original timeline, only that it must have been bad for Damian to have never mentioned it.

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

14. “Sly fox, dumb bunny”

There’s a litany of reasons why the world spins.

Childe thinks his, revolves around you.

“Childe!” A kid in a Spider-Man costume exclaims, jumping up and down with his ghost basket, “You’re back!”

The ginger shows off his paper-white teeth, grinning like a dog wagging its tail, as he raises his palm for a high-five: “Hey buddy! Nice costume! I missed you!”

“Me too! I thought you forgot about us…”

Childe felt a pang of guilt. He hasn’t visited for a year, after all. The kid has grown in height yet his mannerism stayed the same. A lot can change in a year, but some things stay the same.

“Tell you what,” Childe kneels at eye level with the boy before taking big bars of candy from his pocket. The boy’s eyes twinkle in joy, “You can get these and I’ll personally tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

“You’ll be here? You promise?”

Maybe, he thinks. The same reassurance he gives to his family.

“Yup, I’ll be here–I promise,” he says, hoping he can stay true to his words.

“Apologies accepted,” The boy grins before running towards his friends.

“Bribing them with gifts. Did Rosaline teach you that?” Arlecchino creeps from behind, hands behind her back with an unamused expression.

“Hello to you.”

She stares him up and down with judgment in her eyes. He feels a knot in his stomach. He’s unsure whether it’s out of guilt or fear.

“What are you? A fox?” She asks.

“Have you never seen Zootopia?”

“No, but the more I look at you, the more it makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Everything.”

What?

“Since you’re here, help my older kids set up the booths.”

“Right, straight to work. Let’s skip the “How are you?” “Where have you been?” “I’m surprised you’re still alive,” talk.”

“When was I ever the conversational type? If you need to talk about your feelings, get a therapist. If your therapist can’t handle that, go to a psych ward. And if you understood me just now, go help that young lady carrying a box. She’s setting up the face paint booth and you’re staying there whether you have artistic skills or not. Just don’t make my children cry.”

“When have I ever…” His voice trails off while his eyes follow the only person keeping him up at night; the only person aside from his close circle he constantly worries about, “I can’t tell if you're punishing me or rewarding me.”

“From that creepy grin on your face, I’d say neither,” She hits his arm—it does its damage, “And quit smiling like a pervert.”

“I am not!”

Like a man on a mission, he walks across the orphanage hall, stumbling into you who’s currently carrying a box of paint, “Be careful.”

“Thanks,” you say, clearly not recognizing his voice. His heart drops, until you get a good glimpse of him, Wait, what are you doing here? I didn’t think this was the Halloween party you’d be at.”

“This was the only one I was invited to,” He shrugs. It’s true–half true.

“I doubt that.”

“I promise. I usually visit during the winter. But haven’t gotten the time. So when I heard they needed help during the fall, I thought I’d swing by.”

“You sure you didn’t follow me here?”

“Who knows?” He winks, “Maybe I did.”

You chuckle and begin walking outside. He took the box from your arms and followed you to the small booth just beside the entrance along with the other games the orphanage was hosting.

“Nice costume by the way,” He breaks the silence–one that has been sitting for two weeks in empty phone calls and delivered messages. But he doesn’t hold a grudge. There’s no reason to. You don’t owe him an explanation. You’re just friends. Friends who flirt on the side. Friends who spend their days like dates. Good friends. He convinces himself.

You laugh, “You too, where’d you get that from?”

“A photo booth in an arcade.”

“Must’ve been memorable for you.”

“First dates usually are.”

You cough—almost choking. He knows what he’s doing.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yes, I am. It’s not often I choke on air.”

He chuckles, “True, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.”

He thought he didn’t have to know. But he has always been a curious one and you have always been a mystery. From the moment he saw you in the gym to the convenience store he lent you an umbrella at, to the messages online, to the “date” that led up to that moment, to your disappearance that itches his brain, and now, here–he just wants to know. To feel like he deserves to know—that your friendship means more than it should.

Why am I like this? Too curious.

“That wasn’t on purpose. I was just busy. I’m fine now, you don’t have to worry. I’m sorry for leaving you hanging like that. I was having one of those… days,” You smile. He should be glad that you’re smiling. But your eyes are lying.

He lets it go though, “I figured, no one can resist me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, he loves that–because that is genuine.

“Right, how dare I, [Y/N], ignore the presence of The Tartaglia.”

“Ajax.”

“Yeah?”

“My family calls me Ajax.”

“I know that, silly.”

“From now on, I want you to call me Ajax,” He wonders what that would sound like. To hear your voice say the name that so casually makes him vulnerable. To watch your mouth utter the two syllables. Or To feel your lips on his own. He wonders and he wants to feed that curiosity.

Carefully, his hand rests on your cheek, testing the waters. You let him. You shouldn’t have, he thinks.

But he leans in, closer, until–

“Is that your girlfriend?” A kid asks, breaking him and you out of your fantasies. You two back away from each other. Too flustered to deny the question.

“She’s really pretty!” The kid smiles.

Childe chuckles, “I know, the prettiest.”

The kid comes closer and whispers in his ear, “Don’t lose her.”

He gives the kid a thumbs up, “I won’t, I promise.”

He’s said that word too many times today. Hopefully it hasn’t lost its meaning.

“Sly fox,” you whisper, while preparing your tools to attend to the kids.

He turns to you and watches you trying not to shiver–you must’ve forgotten to bring a jacket knowing you’d be working outside–but he notices. He seems to notice everything about you. So, he grabs his varsity jacket, and places it around your shoulders, “Dumb bunny.”

NOTES:

i can’t put the link for the masterlist or previous chapter for some reasons. i will fix it later, sorry about that :/

yes, childe is nick wilde and y/n is judy hopps (reference to chapter 10)

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

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[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

i've been struck by inspiration

here's my ranking of twisted wonderland students by how likely i'd be to let them behind the wheel of a car. this is gonna be a long one bc i'm including explanations of course. (and i know that in-game it's rare to be able to drive, we're ignoring that and pretending it's common to drive around)

1. Leona: canonically, he can drive and drive well. i feel like this was an easy one. but it makes sense!

2. Vil: he just has so many random skills that i feel like driving would be no problem at all. honestly, there's not much that i think vil CAN'T do

3. Trey: everything about him screams Responsible Driver. he would definitely play chauffeur for heartslabyul whenever they need to go somewhere. AND he'd have snacks in the glove compartment. 10/10 ride

4. Jamil: he can absolutely drive well - near perfect i'd argue. what's the alternative? let KALIM drive? get real. it's his duty to get where he needs to go safely

5. Jack: the self-discipline that this boy possesses is unrivaled. he would be locked in behind the wheel. he spent so long becoming the best driver he can be and by god, he's gonna prove it

6. Deuce: LISTEN TO ME, LISTEN! he's really good on that blastcycle which is more dangerous and difficult (said as a former bike/atv guy). a car is nothing to him. plus he's on his Honor Student streak so he's trying his best. my only worry is speed. slow it down, friend

7. Epel: similar to deuce. farm kids learn to drive really early in their lives. HOWEVER... driving safely?? hmmmm... his biggest flaws are going too fast and whipping around curves when no one else is on the road

8. Riddle: he would definitely follow all the road rules. to the letter. every trip would take an extra 30 minutes to an hour. no music, windows up, silence. he won't even let YOU be on your phone lest he become distracted. also ROAD RAGE. interstate driving would get very scary

9. Ortho: fuck it, let the robot give it a shot

10. Azul: i feel like once he figured out the mechanics, he would be fine on the road. however, if he got pulled over he would definitely argue with the cop and get us both arrested. so... i'm gonna pass

11. Jade: yes, we're getting where we need to go. but... nefariously. and there's something in the trunk. i feel like he'd also randomly go "oops" just to freak out his passengers. "what do you mean OOPS?" "don't worry about it :)"

12. Ruggie: there's a wildness to my boy that drove his ranking down. he would definitely drive a jeep with the doors off. music blasting, wind whipping around everywhere. it would be a fairly safe drive but not a particularly enjoyable one. also i would fall out

13. Silver: i don't know, i feel like he would be chill. i put him low bc briar valley doesn't have cars so his driving education would be quite scarce and he'd be a new driver. but he could get the job done. probably

14. Sebek: similar to silver but he needs to relax. malleus is fine, we're just going to walmart

15. Ace: he just gives off the vibe of "16-year-old kid in the car his dad bought for him." never lets anyone merge, hits curbs, can never figure out the speed limit, etc, etc. even worse if deuce is in the car! "ace, watch out for the mailbox!" "don't tell me what to- *BANG*"

16. Cater: gay people can't drive

17. Rook: distracted driver. god forbid there's wildlife around, he would turn 180 in his seat to look at it. this Oh Shit Handle is getting some use. also i KNOW his car would be shit. i don't care that his family is rich, he's driving a 2003 hyundai sonata

18. Floyd: LISTEN! there's a 50/50 shot that everything goes perfectly fine. like as long as he's in a good mood, he can get the job done. you definitely just have to check in before you buckle up. get ready to tuck and roll

19. Malleus: what is a car?

20. Idia: there's so much anxiety there i feel like one thing would go slightly left and he'd almost pass out. he's white-knuckling the wheel, praying that no one else is on the road. it's alright buddy, you can be a passenger princess

21. Kalim: No.

22. Grim + Yuu: okay, for this one it's a joint effort. yuu at the wheel and grim on the pedals. there's so much chaos and screaming. four-way stops don't exist. yellow lights are green and red lights are yellow. the horn has not stopped honking since the engine started. this is an emergency situation ONLY. like someone is bleeding out in the backseat and no one is answering their phones

23. Lilia: absolutely not. i will walk

[unconventional-lawnchair]

okay, because you broke my heart with everything is blue, I want a barty x potter!reader where it's the mauraders seeing how barty and the reader love/take care of each other. I need to be healed, I might die

They'll Be Alright

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Fem!Reader

AN: I've taken out all the stops to mend your heart

WC: ~5k

Summary: James Potter learns to like tolerate his sisters taste in men.

Warnings: Grumpy James, Snogging, cursing, tooth rotting fluff, self indulgent, this is literally the cheesiest things I could come up with

“I can't do this much longer, I'm going mad.” James hissed as he sat on the grass, watching from across the courtyard as you stood outside the Quidditch pitch with a bit of a pacing form. You were sitting with your big brother and his friends just moments ago, but RavenClaw was out for practice and you just couldn't wait for your precious boy to leave the stands.

“I think it's cute.” Lily sang sweetly. “She's as obsessed with him as he is with her. Only a Potter could match a Crouch’s insanity.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Sirius burst out laughing, collapsing onto the grass beside him. “It’s not cute, Lily,” James hissed, throwing a wild gesture toward you. “It’s deranged. She’s my little sister, for Merlin’s sake! And she’s practically glued to the sidelines for him. Him! Of all people.”

“She’s not glued, mate. Look- she’s pacing,” Sirius pointed out helpfully, grinning as he threw a snitch up into the air and caught it lazily. “And, to be fair, Barty’s just as bad. Didn’t he travel all the way from Hogwarts to the Potter Manor once just to say, what was it? Right!” He sat up sharply and threw in some jazz hands. “Hi, to her over winter break?”

James groaned louder, flopping onto his back in the grass. “Don’t remind me. He’s the one who’s mad, and now she’s gone mad too. My family’s turning into a bloody soap opera.”

“It’s not madness,” Lily argued, her voice soft with a knowing smile as she plucked a daisy from the grass. “It’s love, James. Messy, consuming love. And if you can’t see it, then you’ve forgotten what it was like when you were chasing after me.”

“Oh, don’t start,” James grumbled, sitting up to glare at her, though his face was tinged with a hint of pink. “That’s completely different.”

“Is it?” Lily asked, raising a brow as she tucked the daisy behind her ear. “Because I distinctly remember you doing some insane things for me- like charming the entire Gryffindor common room to play my favorite song every time I walked in.”

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter, nearly choking on his snitch when he forgot to catch it. “Oh, that was brilliant! What was it again? Some Muggle tune about sunshine?”

“‘Here Comes the Sun,’” Lily said smugly, her smile widening as James grumbled under his breath. “And I’ll remind you, Potter, that it worked.”

“That’s different!” James protested again, jabbing a finger in your direction. “I wasn’t a bloody Crouch!”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally looked up from his book with a raised brow. “And what, exactly, is wrong with being a Crouch?” He asked calmly, though his tone carried a faint edge of amusement.

James floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You know what I mean! He’s- he’s- he’s bloody Barty! He’s reckless, obsessive, and- and-”

“And utterly devoted to her,” Lily interrupted firmly, her eyes softening as she looked toward you across the courtyard. “He’d send us back to the stone age if she complained it was too busy, James. And she’d do the same for him. That’s not something you get to stand in the way of.”

James sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just want her to be happy.” He muttered. “And safe.”

“She is happy,” Lily said gently, resting a hand on his arm. “And as for safe- well, that’s why she’s got you, isn’t it? To make sure nothing gets in the way of her happiness. I'm also quite sure if anyone is to defend her like you have all these years.. it would be him.”

James let out a long, slow breath, watching as you finally stopped pacing, your face lighting up as Barty appeared at the top of the Quidditch stands. Even from across the courtyard, the way your shoulders relaxed and your smile softened was undeniable.

“She looks so bloody happy,” James mumbled, almost to himself.

“She is,” Lily said softly. “Just like you were when you finally got me.”

James turned to her, his face scrunching up as though he’d tasted something sour. “Don’t make me feel good about this, Evans.”

Lily just laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sorry, love. It’s my job.”

Remus chuckled. “Just watch mate.”

~~~

“My dazzling girl!” Barty called down from the steps as he hurried down. You couldn't help but feel a humiliating bubbling of excitement in your chest. Normally, you wouldn't be so shameless and public with your affections, but since dating the brazen Bartemius, you had forgotten what it meant to hold private affections.

“My brilliant boy.” You cooed back and he hurried across the yard to meet you. “How was it?”

“Dreadful. Humiliating. Humbling.” He rambled and stepped closer to you, taking your hand and kissing it, before slowly leading the kiss up your arm to your neck. You laughed and attempted to free yourself, only for him to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in, flush against him. “You simply must make me feel better.”

“It was only practice!” You laughed and cupped his cheeks in your hands, stilling his unconventional attack before it could reach your face. He gave you that signature woman eating smile with dimples that pressed so far into his cheeks you could about die. “It couldn't have been that bad.”

“It was, you see.” He started and gave you a playfully firm dip before he spun you around to scoop you back up to a proper stand. “There was this dazzling girl-”

“You've used dazzling for today, Barty.” You teased and he gave you a wolfish grin.

“This beautiful, magnificent, breathtaking, awe inspiring-”

“Barty!” You laughed and he leaned in with a flurry of kisses to your cheek, effectively freeing himself from your hands.

“Irresistible, bewitching, stunning-”

“Barty-”

“Absolutely exquisite witch who promised to watch my every game, and yet, not this one.” He moped and you shook your head.

“That was practice, my love.” You muttered and he gasped.

“And thus it does not deserve your full undivided attention?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips, your hands playfully swatting at his chest as you shook your head. “You’re insufferable, Bartemius Crouch.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Barty countered, his grin widening into something wickedly charming as he tugged you closer. “Which makes you either as mad as me or utterly bewitched. Shall we flip a coin to decide?”

“Bewitched, obviously,” You teased, raising an eyebrow as you leaned in closer. “But don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Crouch.”

“Too late.” He replied with a laugh, his lips brushing your temple before trailing down to your cheek. “My head’s been full of you for years, my star. You’ve left no room for anything else. I think it's only fair I consume your every thought from now on.”

“Sweet words don’t excuse your theatrics.” You teased, your hands gently slipping to his shoulders as you pretended to push him away, though neither of you truly let go. “You’re going to give James a heart attack if you keep this up.”

Barty’s grin turned mischievous, and he tilted his head to glance toward the courtyard where your brother and his friends were undoubtedly watching. “Good,” He said with mock seriousness, his tone laced with humor. “If I can survive Quidditch practice, he can survive the sight of me adoring his sister.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the smile off your face as you sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” He murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist. “So I think that makes us even.”

“Even?” You repeated with a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned your forehead against his. “I think it makes you a menace.”

“I’ll take it,” Barty replied, his voice softer now, his green eyes locked onto yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip. “As long as it means I get to keep you.”

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by the weight of his words and the warmth of his presence. You knew the world saw Barty as reckless, obsessive, even dangerous. But in moments like this, when he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him, it was hard not to feel the same pull that had always drawn you to him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly, your hands brushing down his arms before entwining your fingers with his. “Just… promise me you’ll try not to antagonize James too much. He’s already halfway to pulling his hair out.”

Barty smirked, his dimple deepening in that way that always made your heart flutter. “No promises,” He teased, though the glint in his eye told you he’d try- for you, if nothing else.

“Bartemius Crouch,” You huffed, feigning sternness as you tugged his hand. “I mean it.”

“And I mean it when I say you’re irresistible,” He countered, spinning you again for good measure before pulling you back into his arms. “Now, my alluring, charming, pretty girl- are you ready to make James’s day a little more unbearable?”

You let out a laugh, the sound bright and lighthearted, as he laced your fingers together and led you back toward the courtyard. You could already see the exasperation on James’s face from across the field, but Merlin did you hear it. Him and Lily.

“I wasn't THAT bad!”

“Oh yes you were!”

~~~

It was a quiet afternoon in the Gryffindor common room when James finally let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t take it anymore!” He exclaimed, startling Lily, who had been peacefully reading beside him.

“What now?” She asked, though the amused quirk of her lips showed she already knew the answer.

“It’s them,” James hissed, pointing toward the window where you and Barty were clearly visible in the courtyard below. You were both sitting on the edge of the fountain, laughing at something Barty had said as he carefully wrapped a scarf around your neck, adjusting it as though it were a delicate treasure. “They’re insufferable.”

“They’re adorable,” Lily corrected, leaning over to peek out the window. She sighed softly, her expression turning fond as she watched Barty tuck your hair behind your ear and press a quick kiss to your temple. “Look at him. He absolutely dotes on her.”

“Exactly!” James groaned again. “Dotes! It’s unnatural. He’s supposed to be a Crouch-brooding and conniving, not… not whatever that is.”

“Love,” Remus supplied calmly, not even looking up from his book.

“Obsessive devotion,” Sirius added with a smirk, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth as he sprawled on the armchair.

“Same thing,” Lily said with a shrug. “And besides, James, weren’t you the same way with me? You practically worshipped the ground I walked on.”

“Still do,” Sirius muttered, earning a glare from James and a stifled laugh from Lily.

“That’s different,” James argued, his voice petulant. “I wasn’t… that. Look at him! He’s practically wrapped around her finger.”

“And she’s wrapped around his,” Lily pointed out, motioning toward the window again. Sure enough, Barty had pulled you to your feet and was holding your hand as he led you toward the castle steps, pausing every few moments to make you laugh with his animated gestures.

“He carries her books half the time,” Sirius added. “And she carries his cloak when he forgets it.”

“She fixes his collar when it's crooked,” Remus chimed in. “And he charms her quills when they snap.”

James groaned louder, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re not helping.”

“Prongs,” Sirius said with a chuckle, sitting up and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got to admit, they’re good together. Annoyingly good, yes, but still.”

“Annoying is an understatement,” James grumbled, but his protests faltered as the portrait hole swung open and you entered the room, Barty trailing behind you with an armful of books and an easy grin on his face.

You turned to him with an exasperated laugh. “You didn’t have to carry all of them, you know. I can manage.”

“Nonsense,” Barty replied smoothly, setting the books down on a nearby table before tugging at his crooked collar. “If I can’t carry a few books for my treasure, what kind of wizard am I?”

“A dramatic one,” You teased, stepping closer to him to fix his collar with practiced ease. “There. All better.”

“And this is why I adore you,” He said, grinning as he caught your hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss.

James let out a strangled noise from the couch, causing you to turn with a startled look. “Everything alright, Jamie?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Perfectly fine,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Barty, who had the audacity to wink at him.

Lily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear, her voice low but teasing. “Admit it, James. You’re just mad he treats her as well as you treat me.”

James’s face turned scarlet, and Sirius howled with laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “Got you there, mate!”

~~~

The clatter of hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as you stopped in your tracks, turning just in time to see Barty sprinting toward you with an energy that bordered on reckless. His tie was slightly askew, his school robes flaring behind him as he called out, his voice full of dramatic flair, “Treasure! You simply must hear this- you’ll have no choice but to reward me with a kiss once you hear of my heroics.”

You furrowed your brow but couldn’t suppress the amused smile tugging at your lips. He always had a way of making everything sound like the most exciting tale in the world. As he skidded to a halt in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear, you took a moment to properly look at him.

For once, Barty had made an effort with his appearance. His robes, usually a little wrinkled or hanging off his shoulders in that endearingly careless way, were perfectly straightened. His tie was knotted neatly (if a little loose), and his hair was slicked back in a way that made your stomach twist, the gleaming coil of one rebellious strand falling charmingly over his forehead. He was maddening, and he knew it.

“Oh?” You replied, your voice playful as you arched a brow.

Barty straightened, smoothing the lapels of his robe with an exaggerated air of importance. “Correct me if I’m wrong- I hardly ever am- but you look like you might just kiss me unprompted.”

Your cheeks flamed at his words, the boldness of his statement making your heart skip. “Crouch!” You hissed, swatting lightly at his chest in mock indignation.

He caught your hand easily, holding it against his chest with a dramatic sigh. “See? Even your instincts betray you. Your heart is telling you to reward me already.”

“And what exactly did you do to earn this so-called reward?” You asked, your tone laced with amusement.

He tilted his head, his dimpled grin widening as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I managed to survive an entire Transfiguration class without turning our professor’s patience into dust. Surely that deserves a small token of appreciation.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head at his antics. “That’s your big heroic tale? Restraint in a single class?”

“Not just any class,” He countered, pulling you closer with the hand still held captive against his chest. “A full fifty minutes of maintaining decorum. You, of all people, should know what a trial that is for me.”

“Decorum, huh?” You teased, your lips twitching as you fixed his slightly frazzled lapel. “Then why are you so out of breath, running down the halls like a maniac?”

“Because the faster I reached you, the sooner I’d get my reward.” He grinned, tilting his head closer to yours. “Now, treasure, let’s not delay-”

“Barty!” You cut him off with a laugh, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, utterly smitten,” He said cheekily, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest ache. He reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your face, and you felt your heart skip again.

Before you could respond, a voice broke through the moment, sharp and incredulous. “You two are going to make me lose my mind.”

You both turned to see James standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of pure exasperation on his face. Sirius was behind him, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Remus stood a little further back, his book tucked under one arm, an amused glint in his eye.

“Honestly, mate,” James continued, throwing his hands up. “Must you be this dramatic? She’s my sister, not the bloody queen.”

“And yet,” Barty said smoothly, not missing a beat as he turned to James with a smirk, “she deserves nothing less than a royal treatment.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face as Sirius burst out laughing, clapping him on the back. “He’s got a point, Prongs.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress your own laughter, but Barty caught your chin with gentle fingers, turning your gaze back to him. “Pay no mind to the peanut gallery,” He said softly, his tone dropping to something more intimate. “I’m only interested in you, treasure.”

Your heart swelled, and for a moment, you forgot all about James’s groaning, Sirius’s laughter, and the knowing look Remus was undoubtedly giving. All you could see was Barty- your boy, maddeningly confident yet infinitely tender, his green eyes locked onto yours as if you were the only person in the world.

And as maddening as it was, he certainly did deserve that kiss.

~~~

The firelight flickered warmly in the Potter living room as the group gathered for the holidays. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, creating a cozy atmosphere inside the bustling house. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in your hands. James sat nearby, watching with a sharp eye as Barty leaned down to adjust the blanket around your legs, making sure you were tucked in properly.

The sight grated on James- he was used to being the one to look after you, his little sister, not this Crouch boy who had somehow wormed his way into your life. But then Barty turned, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, and James found himself watching the interaction more closely than he’d care to admit.

“You didn’t have to go out into the cold to fetch the marshmallows, you know,” You said softly, your voice filled with affection as you sipped your drink.

“Of course I did,” Barty replied, grinning up at you. “Your hot chocolate isn’t complete without them. It’s a crime to deprive you of anything less than perfection.”

James rolled his eyes, but Lily elbowed him gently, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Watch,” She whispered.

As if on cue, you reached for the plate of marshmallows to pop one into your drink, but Barty’s hand shot out to stop you. “Ah, ah, allow me,” He said with a dramatic flair, picking out the largest marshmallow with precision. He placed it delicately into your mug before handing it back with a flourish. “Perfectly placed, as all marshmallows should be.”

You laughed, a bright sound that made James pause. He couldn’t deny that it was genuine, the kind of laugh he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And the way Barty looked at you in response- like your happiness was the only thing that mattered- made James’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

As the night went on, James watched the two of you more closely. It wasn’t just the over-the-top gestures or the playful banter; it was the way Barty noticed the smallest things about you. How he shifted your mug away when he noticed you leaning too far forward, how he reached for the book you’d left on the side table before you even asked for it, how he listened intently to every word you said, his focus unwavering.

Merlin even their parents loved him.

Later, when the others had dispersed to different parts of the house, James found himself in the kitchen with Barty. The younger boy was rinsing out a mug, his usual bravado toned down in the quiet moment.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” James asked suddenly, his voice steady but curious.

Barty looked up, surprised by the question. But then his expression softened, and he nodded. “More than anything,” He said simply, his tone devoid of his usual dramatics. “She’s everything to me, Potter.”

James leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied Barty carefully. “You know, if you hurt her, I’ll-”

“Spend every waking moment trying to kill me?” Barty interrupted with a small, knowing smile. “I know. But you won’t have to. Because I’d rather tear myself apart than see her hurt.”

James blinked, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in Barty’s voice. For the first time, he saw past the theatrics and charm, and what he found there surprised him. There was a genuine devotion, a steadfastness that even James couldn’t deny.

“You’re good to her,” James said finally, his voice quieter. “Better than I thought you’d be.”

Barty smirked, but there was no arrogance in it this time- only a quiet confidence. “She deserves nothing less.”

James nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. For the first time, he found himself believing that maybe- just maybe- Barty Crouch wasn’t the worst person his sister could have chosen. In fact, as he watched Barty quietly return the mug to the cupboard, James couldn’t help but think that she might have chosen someone who truly knew how to love her the way she deserved.

~~~

The tension between you and Barty had been simmering all day, ever since that small disagreement in the courtyard earlier. It wasn’t anything monumental- just one of his reckless decisions clashing with your cautious nature- but it had left you feeling irritated and, perhaps, a little hurt.

Now, as you sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, picking at your dinner, the weight of the silence between you lingered in the back of your mind. Barty hadn’t come to sit with you, choosing instead to stay at the Ravenclaw table. Every so often, you caught him sneaking a glance your way, but neither of you made a move to close the distance.

“You’re brooding,” Lily said gently, nudging your arm with her elbow.

“I’m not brooding,” You replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“She’s brooding,” Sirius confirmed from across the table, earning a glare from you. “You’ve got that ‘he’s an idiot, but I still love him’ look all over your face. I'm very familiar."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, Remus leaned in, his voice calm and measured. “You know, he’s been sulking at the Ravenclaw table since lunch. Practically hasn’t touched his food.”

“I don’t care,” You muttered, stabbing at your mashed potatoes.

“Sure, you don’t,” James said, his tone laced with sarcasm as he leaned back in his seat. “That’s why you’ve been glancing at him every five minutes.”

“I have not,” You snapped, though your cheeks flushed in betrayal.

James smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, I’ll admit it- he’s an absolute pain sometimes. But he’s your pain, and frankly, I’ve put a lot of effort into liking this one. Don’t break his heart.”

The entire table froze. Lily’s fork clattered against her plate, and Sirius let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, slapping a hand over his mouth like he’d just heard the most scandalous news of the year.

“Did… did you just admit you like him?” Remus asked, his tone full of disbelief.

James shifted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. “I didn’t say I like him,” He grumbled, though the tips of his ears burned red. “I just said I’ve put in the time.”

“That’s the same thing, mate,” Sirius said with a grin. “And we’re never letting you live this down.”

Lily laughed, nudging James playfully. “I think it’s sweet. It only took him months of watching them make heart eyes at each other to admit it.”

“Shut it, Evans,” James muttered, though his scowl softened as his gaze flicked to you. “Seriously, though. He’s mad about you. Don’t let this stupid fight ruin something good.”

You blinked at your brother, caught somewhere between gratitude and shock. “You really think that?”

James sighed, his expression softening. “Yeah. I do. Just… go talk to him, alright? Put me out of my misery.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you stood, smoothing out your robes. “Fine. But if he’s still being a prat, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” James said, though he shot you a rare, encouraging smile.

As you crossed the Great Hall, you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, the murmurs from the Gryffindor table blending with the soft hum of conversation around the room. When you reached the Ravenclaw table, Barty looked up, his green eyes widening in surprise as you stopped beside him.

“Treasure,” He started, his voice tentative, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“We need to talk,” You said firmly, though the corner of your lips twitched upward.

Barty stood immediately, his end of the bench scraping against the stone floor. “Anything. Anywhere.”

You nodded toward the doors, and he followed without hesitation, leaving behind his untouched dinner and a flurry of whispers in his wake.

Back at the Gryffindor table, James let out a heavy sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. “Finally.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sirius said, shaking his head in mock astonishment. “Prongs has feelings. Actual, human feelings.”

“Don’t push it, Padfoot,” James muttered, though the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

Lily rested her chin on her hand, watching as you and Barty disappeared through the doors. “I think it’s sweet. He finally gets it.”

“Better late than never,” Remus added with a small smile. “Though I’m sure he’ll deny it by morning.”

Sirius, smirked devilishly and Lily’s smile twitched just a bit.

“It's almost like we didn't catch them snogging a few days ago.” He sang and James's face turned pale and his eyes widened.

James shot up from his seat so quickly that his table toppled backward, the loud clatter echoing through the Great Hall. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Sirius threw his head back in laughter, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice, while Lily covered her mouth with her hand, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“I said,” Sirius repeated slowly, his grin widening, “it’s almost like we didn’t catch them snogging a few days ago. Almost.”

“You- you WHAT?” James sputtered, looking between Sirius and Lily with a mixture of horror and betrayal. “And you didn’t tell me? Evans! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am on your side,” Lily said, struggling to keep her composure as she shrugged innocently. “I just didn’t think it was a big deal. They’re dating, James. What did you expect?”

“What did I- what did I- NOT THAT!” James shouted, flailing his arms toward the doors where you and Barty had disappeared. “I didn’t expect him to be sticking his tongue down her throat in public!”

“It wasn’t public,” Sirius said with a mockingly thoughtful expression. “It was a little alcove near the library, actually. Quite private. You’d be proud of them, Prongs- very stealthy, very romantic. A solid 9 out of 10.”

James groaned, dragging his hands down his face dramatically as Remus finally chimed in, his tone calm but amused. “James, they’re in a relationship. This isn’t exactly shocking.”

“It is to me!” James snapped, glaring at Remus as if he’d just committed treason. “And you lot just sat on this information like it was nothing?”

“Mate, you’ve been watching them practically live in each other’s pockets for months now,” Sirius said, still grinning. “I figured you’d have put it together by now.”

Lily patted James’s arm consolingly, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because you’re starting to like Barty, and this makes it harder for you to yell at him.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth, glaring at the table as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

“Admit it, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning forward with a gleeful grin. “You like him. He’s grown on you.”

“I don’t like him,” James muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “I tolerate him. For her.”

“You tolerate him enough to tell her not to break his heart,” Remus pointed out, his lips twitching.

James groaned again, collapsing back into his seat with the air of a man defeated. “Fine. I don’t hate him. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Sirius said with a wink. “Though I’d be happier if you didn’t look like you were about to throw a fit every time you saw them hold hands.”

Lily leaned in closer, her voice soft but teasing. “He loves her, James. And she loves him. That’s not something you need to fight.”

James sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, well… if he hurts her, it’s still open season.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said with a laugh. “But you’ll have to get in line behind her. She’s got a mean right hook.”

The table erupted into laughter, and even James couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Somewhere beyond the Great Hall doors, you and Barty were likely making amends, and for the first time, James felt a reluctant sort of peace about it.

He still didn’t like Barty- he probably never would- but he could admit, quietly and only to himself, that the boy made you happy. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[lara4eclipze]

›› sugar and spice

sypnosis -» sophia was nervous to introduce you to the rest of the girls especially since she has been sorta hiding you

beware -» fluff , swearing , mentions of dating , established relationship

talks -» this got requested on my main acc , but requested by @artrizzler19 !! ty "could you please do one with sophias gf (preferably masc) meeting the girls"

taglist (open): @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

"hey if they ask you anything feel free to not answer it alright?" sophia says her hands are sweaty as she opens the front door towards the shared home

"don't worry — it's not like they'll kill me...I think" you replied chuckling , honestly you were excited on the other hand though sophia seemed worried

the door opens and you were greeted with the members sitting down on the sofa , it looked like they were gonna interview you for a position

"it's a boy?!" yoonchae asks confused , before megan hits her shoulder muttering something about being masculine

sitting down the first question that was rung up was from lara , "when did you guys meet?" she asks her eyebrows lifted as if analyzing you

"it was a few months before you guys debuted" you replied calmly looking beside you as sophia looked happy with your answer

"anyways can I start? — we met because she was working in the café near our studio and at first I thought she was a he" sophia giggles as the rest of the girls quietly listened

"and then she asked for my number and I quickly found out that in fact she was well a girl, y/n was confident with me and was very caring so one thing led to another and here I am introducing her" sophia takes a deep breath waiting for the girls to ask more but nothing came

"wait that's so cute" daniela pipes up , and suddenly you were now family as well nothing was awkward , "hi y/n I'm yoonchae! sorry about what I said earlier, I like your style" yoonchae says as she approaches you , "it's alright really" you replied

" 'sup! lara , I think you already know that but I actually need help dressing like you — ugh I've wanted to try being masc for so long" lara sighs and obviously you agreed

the house was now loud yet very home-y , the girls were all sat on the sofa watching twilight since manon chose what to watch — sophia and you on the other hand were preparing some snacks for the rest

"this was better than I thought" sophia says referring to you meeting the girls , "told you not to worry" you replied snaking your arms around her nape placing a kiss on her lips as she smiles into it

click!

you and sophia hear a camera shutter only to see daniela and manon taking a picture of the two of you , "hey!" sophia says running after the duo leaving you to laugh your ass off in the kitchen

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ortho flying with three floating tablets (representing his parents and Idia) behind him is such a MagiCammable moment, according to Cater and his sisters lol

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Oh my gosh! Who's this little cutie patootie?!"

"W-Wah...!" Ortho scarcely had any time to formulate an appropriate reaction before he was accosted from both sides. They had leapt out from the Queen of Hearts' statue, like jaguars pouncing on unsuspecting prey. The three tablets floating beside Ortho were sent spiraling.

"B-Bwah?!" Idia sputtered from his end, eyes bulging at what his video feed was picking up. There was his poor little brother, smothered by a pair of flashy women. "A normie sneak attack!?"

To Idia's horror, he could see painted nails studded with jewelry running all over the boy's face and hair. He leapt out of his gaming chair, seizing his computer monitor with both hands.

"C-Calm down, Ortho! CALM DOWN, DON'T PANIC!! Y-Your big brother will help you out of this pinch... e-except I don't know how to deal with 3D women!! Th-There's no dialogue selection option IRL...!!"

"You're the one panicking the most here, nii-san..."

"Now, Idia--" their father began--cool, level-headed.

"Hold on, dear," his wife interrupted. "Don't you think it's too soon to intervene?"

"... What are you saying?"

"I mean, these girls are only appreciating Or-kun's cuteness, right? I don't think there's anything wrong with acknowledging that! In fact, the world should be more familiar with how adorable both of our sons are...!"

"B-Betrayed by the mom?!"

"Ahahah... Sorry, Shroud fam~" Cater called as he, too, stepped out from his spot behind a statue. He didn't look particularly apologetic, not with that growing grin tugging at his mouth. "It looks like my sisters took an interest in your youngest. I guess it's not every day you see a bot as advanced as Ortho-chan is, but still!"

"J-Just what I needed... Another sparkly extrovert to complicate this scenario!!" Idia moaned, clutching at his forehead.

"You have to get a pic of us together, Cater!" one sister pouted. "This is too cool not to! Be sure to get the tablets in the shot too, okay?"

"Alright, I'll try." He casually produced his phone. "Everybody has to smush together first though, and Idia-kun's kinda out of frame--"

"Are you, like, for reals a robot?" the other sister demanded, ogling Ortho's metallic body. "That's not cosplay, right?"

"Hehe, nope! I'm one hundred percent custom built by my nii-san."

Idia loudly snorted, far less amused than his brother was. "Cosplay? Are you blind? I'm insulted that you'd even suggest such a stupid idea. Check out the rocket boosters in his feet, the complex circuity in his chassis, the artificial intelligence with a limitless capacity to learn. It's all Ortho."

"That's right! Our Idia built Or-kun from scratch all on his own!" Mrs. Shroud chirped. "Ahhh, our sons are our pride and joy! Aren't they, Papa?"

Mr. Shroud drew out a sigh. "... Yes, dear."

Their tablets drew close and snuggled (or attempted to). Idia could only imagine that his parents had embraced one another on the other end of the line. Hot pink and neon blue twinning.

"Oh, bleh." He rolled his eyes. Mom and dad are being gross and mushy in public again.

Suddenly, his video feed jerked down. Idia got a chunk of pavement, then an eyeful of twinkling makeup and nails. The first of the Diamond sisters had seized his tablet, posing with it in front of her.

"Is he, like, in frame now?" she asked Cater, who flashed her a thumbs up.

"Perfect~ Now everyone else can squeeze in!"

At Cater's direction, his other sister rushed over. Ortho was tugged along like a balloon on a string--though he didn't put up any resistance. The Shroud parents allowed their tablets to lower to the appropriate height for the picture. Cater held his phone out, the camera flipped.

All eager for the photograph except for one.

"D-Don't I get a say in this?!" Idia weakly protested.

Cater laughed--and it sounded a little mean to Idia, as light-hearted as it was. "Sure, you get a say in this! I'll let you know what to say: cheese!"

CLICK!

The selfie was taken. The Diamonds and the Shrouds, immortalized in a shared image.

[xm4g1c-m1r4x]

could you please write something for the batfam members and a reader who uses any pronouns, who has chronic pain and who's vigilante name is ghost

Through Pain and Shadows

(I tried my best! I hope you like it and lmk if I'm exadurating anything!! - xoxo Mira)

Debrief: As the Bat-family rallies around (Y/N), the vigilante known as Ghost, they remind them that chronic pain doesn’t have to be faced alone. Through their support and care, (Y/N) learns the value of leaning on their found family in both shadows and struggles.

Setting: Wayne Manor, late night after a mission.

The Bat-family was used to patching themselves up after long nights of crime-fighting. Tonight was no different—except for Ghost.

(Y/N) sat on the couch in the Batcave, gingerly removing their gloves. Their hands trembled slightly, the ache in their joints flaring after hours of combat. Though the mission had gone smoothly, the toll on their body was evident.

Tim was the first to notice. He approached with a bottle of water and a small grin. “You okay, Ghost? You’re looking a little pale. Paler than usual, I mean.”

(Y/N) chuckled softly, the sound tinged with exhaustion. “I’m fine, Red. Just the usual.”

Bruce, perched at the Batcomputer, turned to glance at them, his sharp eyes narrowing. “The usual shouldn’t mean pushing through pain you can’t handle. How bad is it?”

“It’s manageable,” (Y/N) said, brushing off the concern. They weren’t one to complain, even when their body begged them to.

Dick plopped down beside them, an easy smile on his face. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. I know that look. You’re hurting more than you’re letting on.”

Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his voice was softer than usual. “You know, no one’s going to think less of you for taking a break. Hell, I do it all the time. Self-care and all that.”

(Y/N) sighed, their shoulders slumping. “It’s not that simple. Chronic pain doesn’t take a break, even if I do.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. Damian, sitting nearby and cleaning his sword, spoke up without looking at them. “You shouldn’t let pride stop you from accepting help. Even warriors need rest.”

(Y/N) blinked, a little surprised by the youngest Wayne’s words, but they nodded. “I appreciate it, really. But sometimes, it’s just easier to push through.”

Barbara wheeled closer, her tone gentle but firm. “Pushing through can make things worse. You’re part of this family now, Ghost. That means we’ve got your back—whether it’s out there or here.”

Tim nudged (Y/N)’s arm. “She’s right. Besides, we have Alfred. Pretty sure he could heal a broken heart with tea and biscuits.”

As if summoned, Alfred appeared with a tray of tea and an ice pack. “Master Timothy exaggerates, but I do aim to provide. Here, Ghost, this will help with the swelling.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as they accepted the ice pack. “Thanks, Alfred.”

Jason smirked. “See? Told you. The man’s a miracle worker.”

Bruce stood, his expression softening. “You don’t have to do this alone, (Y/N). Being part of this team means leaning on each other when we need to. Don’t forget that.”

(Y/N) looked around at the family—these chaotic, protective people who had somehow become their own—and nodded. “Alright. I’ll try to remember that.”

Dick threw an arm around their shoulders, careful not to jostle them too much. “Good. Because we’re not letting you forget it.”

For the first time that night, (Y/N) allowed themselves to relax, letting the warmth of the family’s support ease the pain, if only a little.

[eod-agent-13-12]

What is Needed to Rest

A certain funeral director looks for a certain EOD handler due to the concerning amount of paperwork he suddenly had to deal with. It was, after all, quite alarming to have a bunch of bodies to deal with all of a sudden. Some are even unidentified.

His auburn hair matched Handler Ellie's, hinting at his relation to her. Brown eyes seemed to dart around while he held the folder close to his chest.

He knocked on the door where a familiar blue eyed agent worked, eyes swirling with light blue specks if one were to pay attention. The younger of the men was scowling, eyes narrowing as he looked at the books with pieces of paper coming out.

"Ugh. Why must this be so hard?!" He groaned as he stared at the blank page.

"Hello, agent." He walked in, voice calm as the place was littered with papers and notebooks. "Where's your handler?"

Typhoon's eyes narrowed. "In her office. Now, don't bother me. I have work to do. Both in college and the agency."

"I figured. But where is she?"

"Go ask Wraith or something. Leave me alone. I got so much to do, Mr. Veris." He snapped, glaring at the man at the door, pointing outside to make him leave.

"You didn't have to do that. Alright. I'll leave you be." He sighed, only to meet Handler Ellie at the door.

"I assume you're looking for me." She sighed, looking at him while gently closing the door to leave her agent alone.

"Well, what's with the sudden influx of work? Don't you know that's highly concerning? And the funeral home's more haunted than it'd ever been. I feel so bad for my assistant."

"I'm sorry but-"

"I know. I'm glad you came to me but I need explanations. Now."

Handler Ellie darted around, trying to think of the words when she spots a figure in the distance.

"Zoraxis happened."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@agentwraith, @blueorchid-95, @silverdragon889, @agent--shadow, @phoenix-and-found-family

(Feel free to add to this. This is an RP post. No pressure though.)

[cherubimcore]

pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: i'm trying to post like once a week, let's see how long until college decided to give me tons of stuff to do making me not see the sunlight for like a week ;)

part 1 part 2 part 3

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the small, quaint house that had been in your family for generations. you sat across from your grandmother in the cozy living room, the scent of lavender and old books filling the air. she rocked gently in her chair, her frail hands knitting a new scarf, according to your grandma it was for you when winter arrives.

you had been hesitant to bring it up—to ask her about the strange things happening in the house since you moved in. about him. but you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“grandma,” you began, your voice hesitant. “there’s something i need to talk to you about.”

she looked up from her knitting, her sharp eyes meeting yours. “what is it, dear?”

you swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “it’s about the house… and the things I’ve been seeing. there’s… a demon. he calls himself alastor.”

for a moment, she didn’t react, simply watching you with an unreadable expression. then, to your surprise, a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“so,” she said softly, “they’ve finally caught on to us.”

your brow furrowed in confusion. “what? grandma, what are you talking about?”

she leaned back in her chair, her eyes gleaming with something that looked almost like… relief. “i always knew this day would come,” she murmured. “i just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

you leaned forward, heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean? who caught on? and why is there a demon in the house?”

her smile grew, but it was tinged with sadness. “not all demons are what they seem, my dear. some are bound to protect, even if their methods are… unconventional.”

“protect?” you echoed, your mind spinning. “you’re saying alastor is here to protect me?”

she nodded slowly. “trust the demon trying to help. he may seem dangerous, but there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

your thoughts raced, memories of alastor’s unsettling grin and cryptic words flashing through your mind. had he helped you—protected you from something lurking in the shadows? was there something more dangerous than actual demons in this world?

“grandma,” you said, your voice shaking slightly, “i need answers. what is going on? why is he here? why me?”

she reached out, taking your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. “it’s not the right time yet, sweetheart. there are things you need to learn, but it’s not my place to tell you… for now, trust him.”

you stared at her, frustration and curiosity swirling in your chest. “cut—”

she shook her head gently. “no more questions for now. you’ll understand when the time is right.”

you leaned back, biting your lip as you processed her words. trust Alastor? trusting a demon seems absurd, but alastor had been a good company in the house, almost… refreshing. it sounded absurd… and yet, deep down, something told you she was right.

“alright,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her. “i’ll try.”

your grandmother squeezed your hand, her eyes filled with a wisdom that made you feel like a child again. “dood. you’re stronger than you think, (y/n). and when the time comes… you’ll know what to do.”

you nodded slowly, unsure of what the future held but certain of one thing: nothing in your life would ever be the same again.

the unease gnawed at alastor like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. It had been days since he discovered your celestial lineage, a secret so deeply buried even you seemed unaware of it. he remembered the casual way you introduced yourself—no hesitation, no guarded expressions, no inkling of the divine power coursing through your veins.

and therein lay the dilemma. should he tell you? was it his place to reveal the truth, or would it shatter the fragile equilibrium you both had found? alastor prided himself on being a creature of chaos, a manipulator who thrived on the suffering of others. yet, when it came to you, something inside him recoiled at the thought of causing you harm.

he hated it. hated how much you’d begun to occupy his thoughts. hated how he, the radio demon, was starting to care.

alastor tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, but it was futile. his usual antics—broadcasting fear, weaving nightmares, reveling in the madness of hell—felt muted, as if the very essence of what made him who he was had been dulled. he found himself visiting you more frequently, lingering in your presence under the guise of casual conversation or harmless amusement.

one afternoon, the temptation became too much.

he found you in the garden again, the very place he’d stumbled upon you days before. you sat on the same bench, a book resting in your lap, though your eyes were closed as if savoring the moment of solitude. the ivy-covered arches framed you perfectly, sunlight casting a halo around your form.

alastor hesitated, an unfamiliar sensation tightening in his chest. he had no heart to speak of, no soul to feel with—yet, in that moment, he felt something dangerously close to longing.

“ah, there you are, my dear!” his voice rang out, breaking the stillness. he watched with satisfaction as you startled slightly, your eyes snapping open. he strolled toward you, his grin in place, as ever. “hiding away from the world again, are we?”

you smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “just needed a break. things have been… overwhelming lately.”

“overwhelming, you say?” you noticed his eyes were softer than usual. “may i join you?”

you raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his request. “only if you promise not to narrate my every move with that radio voice of yours like that one time.”

“ah, but where’s the fun in that?” he sat beside you, his movements precise, almost theatrical. “i shall do my best, though i make no guarantees.”

for a while, the two of you sat in silence. It wasn’t the tense, awkward kind but a comfortable stillness that neither of you wanted to break. the garden seemed to hold its breath, as if recognizing the significance of the moment.

eventually, alastor spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “you once said this garden is your sanctuary. a place to escape.”

you nodded, looking around at the lush greenery and blooming flowers. “it is. everyone needs a place where they can just… be.”

he considered your words, his gaze drifting to the wildflowers growing near the bench. with a flick of his wrist, he plucked a delicate blossom and twirled it between his fingers

“a token of my admiration, for whatever it’s worth.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his gesture. taking the flower, you smiled and twirled it between your fingers. “thank you, alastor. that’s… surprisingly sweet.”

he straightened, the familiar grin returning, though a faint blush dusted his pale cheeks. “don’t let it go to your head. i can’t have you thinking i’m going soft.”

you tucked the flower behind your ear, a playful glint in your eyes. “i wouldn’t dream of it. but maybe there’s more to you than you let on.”

alastor tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you. “perhaps there is,” he murmured, almost to himself.

for a moment, you thought he might say more, but instead, he leaned back against the bench, his eyes fixed on the horizon. the silence returned, but it was different now—charged with unspoken words and emotions neither of you were ready to confront.

as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, you found yourself wondering about the enigmatic demon beside you. what secrets did he keep hidden behind that ever-present grin? And why did you feel drawn to him despite the danger he represented?

unbeknownst to you, alastor wrestled with similar thoughts. your celestial lineage was a puzzle he couldn’t ignore, but more than that, you were becoming someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

for the first time in his existence, alastor faced a choice: continue down the path of manipulation and destruction or protect the one person who had managed to touch something long thought dead within him.

the garden remained quiet, a sanctuary for both of you now—a place where, for a fleeting moment, demon and mortal could simply be.

taglist: @vxllys @songbirdpond @sirens-and-moonflowers

[therealbeachfox]

r/NoStupidQuestions is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

u/RaddicalCon

"I mean, not something that's written down or printed out.

(Unless you're from my birth-family, in which case it's all written down, mostly in ancient books that stink of dry-rot and leather where Hench're called things like 'Servitors' and 'Beholden' and there's a lot of rules about which parts of the manor you're allowed to drag bodies through at what particular times of the day.)

Otherwise, it's not like there's a HenchCo HQ that puts together an employee dress code or anything. As with most things Hench-related in Gotham, it's all about unspoken rules and running tradition. Vibes, you know?

So here's some of those unwritten rules written down, because fuck the not-police.

A lot of bosses are going to have their own style and Hench-branding already in place. In this case, you wear what the Boss tells you to. Hopefully, they'll supply you the uniform so you don't have to go down to the army surplus and hunt for body armor in the exact right shade of purple or something. Be careful of any Boss who has you buy/rent your uniform with promises you get your money back when you return it. Gotham is hell on clothes regardless of who you are, and there's no way you're going to keep that uniform clean enough to be given your 'deposit' back. Fortunately, these sorts tend to be flash-in-the-pans. They usually wind up dead after they piss off one of the bigger fish, or they don't have anyone willing to bust their cheep-ass out after the first time their cheep ass gets locked up by the capes'n'cowls set.

Even if the Boss doesn't have specific uniform for their hench, they almost always have a certain theme/style of their own going on, and you'll want to play into that. When you join up, take a quick look around. If everyone's decked out in a certain style (jaunty green caps, black leather jackets, red shirts), it's probably a good guess you want to dress similarly if you don't want to draw the Boss' attention (It's almost never a good thing to have the Boss notice you as an individual as opposed to just One of the Minions).

Alright, so you found yourself hooked up with a crew where there doesn't seem to be any theming going on. Here's where the unspoken rules come in. You get to make your own outfit, but if you want to come across as a professional Hench, or at least one who knows what the fuck they're doing, you're going to wanna stick with the standards. These will depend on exactly what kind of outfit you've landed in.

Organized: 'This is a professional operation, boys, and we expect you all to look professional when on the clock.' You're working with one of the crime families, henching for Two-Face on Mr. Dent's side of the room, or fronting for Sionis because you're an unmitigated asshole or a raving idiot. Regardless, you're going to want to get yourself a nice suit. Nothing too fancy, you're not trying to imply you're as good (or rich) as one of the big players. Something off the rack at one of those Fancyish Clothes wholesalers should do you fine. Add a fedora or something if you need to keep your hair warm, consider growing a pencil mustache if you're able, or go for the classic full-eyelashes & red lips makeup if that's more your thing. You might even be able to get away with a trench-coat. Just keep it all either black, grey, or very subdued colors and you'll be fine. And make sure you know how to fight in them. There's nothing worse than watching some guy who can normally tear it up in a street fight get a knife to the gut because he wasn't used to the way tight slacks constrained his ability to throw a kick or leap out of the way of something.

Heavies: It's easy to tell if you're in one of these outfits. If you're spending all your time moving unlabeled crates from one place to another place, standing guard over nondescript warehouses and abandoned factories, or showing up in back alleys to clarify the boss' intentions to some hapless Gothemite, than you're in a Heavy crew. None of the excitement of the others, but you don't have to dress up for it. You're not in the 'Public Facing' part of the Boss' operations, so you don't have to worry about keeping on-theme or even wearing something without holes in it. Conrats. My main suggestion and the most popular getup for this gig? Cable-knit turtleneck and knit cap. Gotham nights are piss-cold nine months out of the year, and it's 9-10 odds you're going to be doing all your work after sundown. Steel-toed boots are also a must. Basically: good, durable, sout, able to handle roughness and keep you warm. Don't try and be cute and wear ugly christmas sweaters or multicolored patterned hats or anything. The only ones there to appreciate your kicking swag are going to be your coworkers (and who gives a shit what they think) or the Bats. Who're going to use the fact that you're distinctive to pick you out for the first to get face-punched. Not worth it.

Street: The Default level for Henching as a whole. Wear what you want. Something that'll keep you as warm and protected as you feel like keeping yourself that you're comfortable beating up assholes and getting your ass kicked in. Some form of tank-top/open-jacket combo is popular these days, as is the Tight Black T-Shirt and Ballcap getup. We're still not letting our freak-flag fly high, here. If you're Henching, the point is usually not to have the cops and everyone else immediately notice you when you walk down the street. If that is your purpose, the Boss probably already has uniforms prepped alongside the gas bombs and explosives. The only thing I wanna stress is to keep up on your laundry. Too many guys take the chill of this setup as an excuse not to keep up on that, and there is nothing worse than having to work with someone who stinks like month-old foot-mold and shit. You are not earning yourself a breakout out of Blackgate if you're putting your coworkers through that.

Wild: Okay, now you can let your freak-flag fly. This is what you want to go with if you're henching for Two-Face on Harvey's side of the room, or in one of those 'are we foot soldiers for a Rogue or are we a street gang?' situations. Let's be honest, you probably don't want to sign onto one of these unless you're comfortable blasting your brain chemistry to pieces on shit you've never even heard of before. In exchange, you can wear whatever the hell you like, so long as it's eye-catching. Combine your mesh tank-top, pink camo cargo pants, and an army-helmet with a dozen spikes, studs, and dyed feathers. Break out your midriff-baring leather jacket, fishnets, and combat boots. Take a trench-coat and wrap a street's worth of road signs around it. Drill elk antlers into a hockey mask and drop the whole thing into neon green paint. Just realize that if it's fragile, it's going to break in your first fight. And you will be in fights. Either against rival Rogues' crews, or with the Bats. Learn how to take a punch, and for the love of god learn how to stay down after you've taken that punch. The only thing getting up over and over again in a blood-frenzy will get you is an ever increasing stay in the ICU.

Of course, the easiest way to make sure you're wearing the right shit for Henchwork is to NOT DO IT.

I'm fucking serious, y'all. Just don't. If you want a snazzy uniform and an excuse to beat people up, join a private security company. If you want to fawn over an evil megalomaniac while furthering their plans for world domination, both Amazon and LexCorp have plenty of job openings. And if you just want to tear shit up for the hell of it, join a street gang. At least then the people by your side might actually give half-a-shit about you at the end of the day.

You can find more of my 'how not to be an idiot and die in Gotham' advice here if you're really in the mood for that.

And to answer the most frequent question: You can find piles of discontinued hench outfits at any Gotham thrift-shop. They've almost always got their own rack you can dig through to your weird little heart's content.

is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

[stupidvillainousposts]

Shit's Been Angsty, so Take This

I'm gonna let y'all guess first thing if this is a merciful post

Stan, walking through the aisles of the grocery store: *Minding His Own Business*

Robbie: *Tosses a Tomato at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Turns to Glare at Robbie* Why you little-

Wendy: Whoa! Whoa! Hey, it's okay! I am so sorry for Robbie. He can be... him.

Stan: *Growls Softly*

Wendy: Whoa there, no need to get all growl-y, dude. I won't hurt ya. Pretty sure that muzzle and shock collar does enough on that end.

Stan: *Huffs and Blushes* Are you done talking? I have to get back to my family before the town gets the idea to throw pitchforks at me.

Wendy: Yeah, yeah sure. Again, sorry about Robbie.

Stan: Whatever. *Walks Off*

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

Stan: *Walking to the Pier After an Argument with Fidds*

Tyler: Oh no! Get away! Get away! *Runs Off in Terror*

Other Townspeople: *Overlapping Shouts of Fear and Disgust*

Random Person: *Throws a Stick at Stan*

Stan: *Snarls and Barks/Whimpers as His Collar Shocks Him*

Wendy, from a few feet away: Yeesh, that looked like it hurt.

Stan, rubbing his neck: You? What are you doing here?

Wendy: My dad brought me and my brothers here so we could practice fishing with our hands. I've caught the most so far so I got to take a break. What about you?

Stan: Why do you care?

Wendy: *Shrugs* I guess angry wolf men are pretty interesting compared to just standing and staring at myself in the water.

Stan: *Flicks His Ear Curiously* Yeah, well, it's grown-up stuff. Kid like you wouldn't get it.

Wendy: Lemme guess; Ya got in a fight with your boyfriend?

Stan: How did you-

Wendy: I know relationship issues when I see them.

Stan, defensively: We don't have issues! We just... didn't agree on something important. And I... I lost my temper.

Wendy: You still love him, though, right?

Stan, genuinely perplexed: Wha- Of course I do!

Wendy: Then for the sake of those kids I see hanging around your shack, I suggest you go let him know that.

Stan, after a brief pause: You're unnaturally mature for your age.

Wendy: I get that a lot. *Playfully* Now go before I call the pound.

Stan: *Snorts* Alright, alright.

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

Stan: *Relaxing with Fidds in Their Room*

Dipper: Grunkle Stan? There's a teenager at the door saying she knows you.

Stan: *Sits Up in Surprise* Red Head?

Fidds: *Amused* Ya nicknamed a random teen?

Stan: *Flicks Fidds' Cheek with a Smile* She's charming. Besides, I don't know her name.

Fidds: Then I suggest ya ask, it's the polite thing t' do.

Stan: *Playfully* Yes, dear. *Makes His Way Downstairs*

Dipper: *Follows Curiously*

Stan, upon seeing Wendy: Hey kid. Why're ya at this dingy place? Surely ya have better places to be than here.

Dipper, tugging Stan's shirt: *Quietly* Ask her what her name is! Grunkle Fidds told you to!

Stan: *Rolls His Eyes and Sighs* And, if this doesn't come off as too weird, think you could tell me your name? I don't think constantly calling you "kid" is appropriate.

Wendy: Name's Wendy. And I just thought I'd visit to make sure you guys were okay. I haven't seen you in town in a while.

Dipper: Grunkle Stan buys a lot of groceries at once so he doesn't have to go out much.

Stan, gritting his teeth: Dipper, why don't you go see what your sister's up to?

Dipper: But-

Stan: We can talk about it later, okay?

Dipper: Fine. *Stomps Away*

Wendy: Cute kid. He yours?

Stan: Brother's grandchild. We have them while some... stuff is being sorted out by their parents.

Wendy: Ah, poor things.

Stan: Yeah... So are you gonna just stand there or...?

Wendy: Are you gonna invite me in, or...?

Stan, holding back a smile: Alright, watch it smart mouth.

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

Fidds, during dinner one night: So, I take it we have another youngin'?

Stan: *Nearly Chokes on His Water* Wha- HUH?!

Fidds: Wendy, sweetie. Ya really seem t' like her. And she seems real nice.

Stan: Yeah, well, she also has a family. Unlike Soos.

Mabel: Soos has his grandma, though?

Stan: *To Mabel* Eat your veggies. *To Fidds* And no, we are not adopting another random child.

Believe it or not, they did end up symbolically adopting another random child.

[midnight-mourning]

Mistletoe Mishaps

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 1❄️❄️

Hello!

Sorry to post our starting point so late today, had some family things come up that needed taken care of, but all good now! Hope you all enjoy, had a good bit of fun with this ^_^

Prompt: OFF DCA AU Moon finds holiday related items (cough cough mistletoe) and is trying to get the player alone for smooches but UH OH! Sun is not happy. Hijinks ensue

Word Count: 2200 (i know i said 1000-2000 but it be like that sometimes chat what can i say >_<

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You watch as Sun falls the last spectre, turning to you for what to do next.

"Good work, that should be the last few in this area." You check your inventory, and toss him a few luck tickets. 

He nods. "Thank you, Friend. Shall we move on to the next then?"

Sun's words have an edge of excitement to them, and while you hate to put a damper on his good mood, you feel exhaustion setting in.

"Let's take a break, all this walking has tired me out,"—you pull out the zone map you'd scribbled out, since even that was beyond your abilities as the Player to see—"Is there anywhere to rest nearby? Like, a hotel or something?"

You know your Batter didn't need sleep. Whatever he was, it was beyond the needs for the task. You however, despite being pulled into this world, were still limited to your basic human needs. That included sleep, and food. Though, you weren't particularly fond of your options regarding that second one so far, but you've made do. 

You realize Sun's just staring at you. "A... hotel?"

Right. You forgot that he would have no idea what such a thing was. Your usual method of getting rest was finding a comfortable looking section on the metal ground and laying down. Though, you'd usually wake up and be laying on Sun in some way. He never said anything, and would ignore your thanks when you gave it, but you still said it regardless.

"You know what? We'll just figure it out along the way, come on," you start walking in a random direction, knowing he won't be far behind.

He nods, falling in step with you quickly. "Of course, I'll always follow your lead, Sunshine."

As you're walking, a rare breeze passes by, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms. You'd noticed that the weather here was relatively unclimactic. Neither warm nor cool, save for this very moment.

"Are you alright?"

Glancing up, you see Sun is watching you intently. 

You smile, but another breeze passes by and cringe. "I'm alright, just, surprisingly cold,"—you laugh—"It's funny, if I still understand time correctly, this would be around when the weather gets colder and snowy where I'm from."

Your Batter tilts his head, but says nothing. 

"Like, you know, snow. White, cold, falls from the sky—okay I can see that I'm losing you here, never mind." You sigh. Sometimes, Sun's lack of knowledge about things was endearing, cute even. A being as powerful and—admittedly—terrifying as him being absolutely clueless to what swan rides were and why you loved the Pedalos so much was a bit hilarious. 

As you feel his confused stare stay with you as you continue your journey through Zone 2 however, you could argue that sometimes, sometimes it was not.

You turn the corner and are surprised to see a crudely painted stand set up. It's usual masked owner is standing behind it, head propped up in one hand, unchanging lazy grin ever present. 

You smile, "Hi Moon, fancy seeing you here."

"Hello dear, Player. Might I interest you in my wares today? I think they might pique your interest greatly." He chuckles. 

Before you can speak up, Sun interrupts, "We don't have time for you. My Player is tired and needs to rest in a,"—he pauses—"Hotle?"

"Good try, bud, but not quite." You turn back to Moon, nodding, "Let's take a quick look."

Moon claps, "Excellent!"

Sun makes a noise beside you but you ignore it, instead stepping closer to take a look. 

You're surprised to find Moon's usual supplies missing. Instead replaced by a hat, a scarf, and—

"Mistletoe?" You ask. 

Moon tilts his head, "Hm? Oh, it that what it is? I wasn't too sure myself."

Sun scoffs, but you're focused on the fact that Moon just has, copious amounts of mistletoe. No new upgrades, no luck tickets or silver flesh, not even a speck of meat. Which, that last one you're fine with.

"Where did you find all this?" You ask, picking up a bundle and holding it high to examine it further.

"Oh... around."

At this you look up, but Moon's expression obviously gives nothing away. Still, you chuckle lightly at the idea of the shopkeeper stumbling upon a mistletoe bush here of all places. 

You twist the small plant in your hands, still very fresh. "Really? That's interesting. I take it you have no clue what it stands for?" 

You'd assume that much like Sun, Moon had no knowledge of the world beyond his. Though, he and The Judge had hinted at knowing more in the past, but nothing past that. 

"Of course I do, who wouldn't know such a piece of treasured, holiday symbolism?"

Had you been paying attention, you would have noticed the shared glare between your item vendor and your Batter. 

"Treasured is a bit of a stretch." You laugh, looking back to him now.

Moon leans in closer, only a few mere inches apart "So, anything catch your eye, my friend? Anything in particular?"

"Well—" Before you can give a proper response, Sun is in front of you, arm up protectively. 

His eyes are narrowed, smile strained as he speaks, "We really must be going now, right, Starshine?"

If he's trying to tell you something, you're not sure what it is. This was just Moon after all. Furthermore, your previous talk about the holidays, and the random cold front, were making you eager to remedy your discomfort. 

"We'll take the hat and scarf, Moon." You reach into your pocket for your credits, "The mistletoe is pretty, but don't really have a use for it that I can think of. Hopefully you'll find someone that does though!"

Moon eagerly accepts your credits, providing you the scarf and hat moments later. "Yes, perhaps."

The conversation ends there, Sun ushering you away without even a goodbye to the vendor. 

You only realize what's happened after the fact, and shoot a look up to your Batter, slightly annoyed, "It's rude to not say anything before leaving, you know." 

Sun doesn't respond, gaze forward and face stern. He mutters something you don't quite catch. 

After a short rest in a hotel you manage to find, you're back to work. Or well, Sun is. You're just along for the ride really. But still, after every battle, he's always looking to you for your approval. 

Usually, you were very good about providing it. However, you've lately been finding yourself to be rather distracted. 

Someone, and you could take a guess as to who, had been putting mistletoe up everywhere you went. 

Usually in the typical spots you'd find the herb, hung up in doorways or archways all throughout the zone. Other times it was just, around. 

Hanging on the sides of buildings, lampposts, littering benches, tables, and so on. It seemed there was no escaping the sea of green and white you'd found yourself in. Which, you were fine with. You found the whole ordeal incredibly amusing to be honest. It also made Zone 2 feel just a little more like home, more alive, for that matter. 

One of the other members or your party however, was very, very displeased. You'd find him glaring at the plant, and occasionally snatching it up and tossing it away in some cases. 

Your Batter was also not happy about the lack of attention you'd been giving him, sometimes too busy trying to find all the hidden locations of the herb. 

What didn't help the matter was the bearer of the decorations was usually close by when you discovered more.

Typically, you would be mid-battle, and since Sun was more than capable on his own without you, your focus would wander. And sure enough, either scouring a doorway or peeking down alleys, there would be Moon. 

He would never outright say it was his doing, that would be too easy. Though he certainly enjoyed teasing you about it. Bending down low to your height, voice sly as he declared you "Something of a detective now, aren't you, Dear?"

You would do your best to tease him back, booping his mask when in range, calling this little game of his, "Silly, but fun."

"Game?" He would ask, hand on where you'd touch his face, "I've not a clue what you mean, Friend."

You laugh, "Sure. Whatever you say."

"Though, if this were a game, I'm sure there would be an easy way for you to win."

You still haven't figured out what he meant by that, try as you might. Sun usually would appear in your peripheral, battle over and gaze stern, before you could ask any further questions.

It all came to a head one time when Moon took it a step further. 

You'd once again, guilty as charged, been on the hunt for any new secret spots, and came across Moon in a side alley, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Expecting you, likely. 

He waves to you as you approach, pointing out the mistletoe hanging on a clothesline above his head, "You didn't even try with that one."

He shrugs, then leans down to your height. 

"Trying would imply this is my doing, and you know me, dear Player. Trying is above my paygrade." You're now eye to eye, inches apart. "And here, I thought we were friends."

Your face heats up then, for reasons you can't explain, "W-we're friends,"—you cough—"We're friends. But I'm also not a fool, do you take me for one, Moon?"

He holds your gaze, eyes flicking down momentarily at something, then back to you. Then, he shakes his head slightly, chuckling quietly. 

He stands upright again, "You should stop by my shop again soon. I have fresh wares I think you'd be keenly interested in."

You scoff, along with the mistletoe, there had been mysteriously placed signs, all advertising 'Holiday Wares' in almost as many locations.

"I just might."

And after the battle, you did. Only to find that, his stand, completely and entirely, was just mistletoe. And you don't mean he was just selling it, you mean the stand itself was decorated top to bottom in the stuff. 

The ridiculousness of it made you laugh, hand to your mouth as you tried to contain your giggles. 

However, before you can even open your mouth, Sun is leading you away, over to a secluded spot. 

Cornered in a doorway, you have no choice but to meet his gaze as he stares down at you, smile twitching. 

"Now friend, I think this has gotten a bit out of hand, don't you think?" He tilts his head. 

You shrink a little further into the doorway, "What um, what do you mean?"

His eyes narrow, "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"The mistletoe?" You ask, shrinking a little further down with an awkward laugh. "It's just a silly game Moon's playing, that's all. No harm in it."

"No harm?" Sun bends down, fully encapsulating your field of view, "He is actively trying to pursue you and distract from our mission! how is that not doing harm?"

It clicks for you then, all at once. All the closeness, the brief touches, the murmured jests and soft laughs. Moon wasn't just trying to mess with you, he'd been trying to—

"Oh." Your face grows warm then. "I see."

Something else occurs to you then. Specifically, why Sun is so vehemently protesting such a notion. Peeking up, you see there is indeed a piece of mistletoe above the two of you. You know what to do. 

"Sun, all you had to do was ask,"—you stand a little on your tiptoes, then press a quick kiss to his cheek—"I'm always happy to show my affection for you, my Batter."

He's frozen, eyes wide under the shadow of his cap. 

You laugh, "After all, what's a quick kiss among friends, right?"

He's still in a daze as you duck under him, marching over to Moon and his stand with newfound purpose. 

His head rests in both hands as he watches you approach. 

"Your little game is over, I'm afraid," You say when you arrive. 

The masked vendor tsks, "What a shame, and I was doing so well, too."

You roll your eyes, and lean in, "Uh huh, now hold still."

Moon snickers, but obeys. Just as you're about to kiss his cheek, however, he shifts, and you find yourself kissing the mouth of his mask instead. 

Unlike the kiss you gave Sun, you find that it's warm. Like, static from a tv, or something. 

He pulls away first, chucking at your gaping look. 

Before you can react, Sun's hand is on your shoulder, moving you out of the way. You expect him to start leading you somewhere else, color you surprised when he takes a swing at Moon, who quickly dodges the attack. 

You can only watch, still shocked, as your Batter chases your vendor around the area, sharing all sorts of threats about what will happen once he catches the other, who merely laughs at his attempts.

Honestly, not the worst possible outcome for this ordeal.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @monsteractialuna for the request! I've been going feral about your OFF au for days and this only fed further into my obession lol

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 7 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[lostsyren]

𓇢𓆸 eulogy

{a/n: sorry I’ve been behind on asks and requests and I’m also working on chapter 6 of eternal! i just wrote this for fun– sofia’s perspective is so special to me!}

{summary: a look into sofia’s mind and some more context on the spreading ashes scene in s4 ep1}

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They’d been together for eighteen months now and Sofia had fallen in love with Rafe. It wasn’t hard– he was sweet-talking and debonair, whisking her away from the mundanity of pogue life.

But it was hard not to hear the whispers that slithered through Kildare.

…Rafe’s got a screw loose…That whole family’s bad news…If his daddy’s a murderer it’s not hard to believe the boys got something wrong with him…

Even her own family were skeptical of their relationship.

He’s a kook mija– don’t forget how they look down at us

Sofia was wary, of course she was. It was all about self-preservation on this island– survival of the richest and most ruthless. But this thing she had with Rafe was never meant to be anything serious.

Yes, it was true she felt enamoured by him, allured by his cerulean eyes and tall frame. But that wasn’t what enticed her the most about the Cameron boy– it was his kindness, surprisingly.

The way he’d always be respectful at the bar, his attempts at flirting never crude, drew her to him. His proclivity for always asking is she was fine (You good? Everything alright? You okay?) made her heart soar. This couldn’t be the same Rafe who all the rumours were about…right? And soon that’s all they were to her– salacious, fallacious rumours.

She had a protectiveness over him. Whenever she’d hear people talk badly of him at the club, propagating these rumours, she’d always mess up their drinks on purpose, a silent fuck you to those two-faced kooks– she was never good at confrontation.

Their relationship had been fun. The sex was too. He’d always ask her to tag along with him everywhere. Sofia eventually figured out he was quite lonely. Once she got past the cocky, womanising persona, Rafe Cameron was soft…and that just made her love for him stronger.

Today he’d invited her out on his new boat, so she threw on her bikini and headed down to his house.

She made her way over to the back garden where they were going to sail the boat from the marsh.

“Hey baby,” she said with a smile, seeing him waiting for her in the lounge chair.

Rafe smiled at her back, but it was reticent and wan.

“Hey Sof,” he stood up walking over to meet her, his hand sliding around her hip and pulling her into a quick kiss. She noticed he lingered in their hug longer than he usually did.

“Shall we head out then?” Sofia probed. She wondered what was up with Rafe– there was something clearly ailing him.

“Before we do, I need to ask you something.” He ran a palm across the back of neck, his eye contact wavering.

Sofia’s smile faded, pupils contracting in worry, “is everything ok?”

“Uhm no. Not really,” he rasped, voice pained.

Sofia’s eyebrows furrowed, taking a quick step toward him, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, rubbing consoling circles into his skin, “what happened?”

“I got the ashes back today…you know, after my dad’s cremation. I wanted to spread them over the water, down by the lighthouse– could you come with me?” His words were coarse, as if his throat was encircled with barbed wire.

“Oh Rafe,” Sofia’s heart broke for him. He’d told her about his dad before– she knew how much he meant to him to him, “of course I’ll come with you

“Thank you…I appreciate it. I wanted to ask over the phone but couldn’t get the words out.”

“It’s ok, I’m here now.” She offered him a small smile, which he reciprocated, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

They made their way silently to the boat.

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The waves were tumultuous and the wind was strong, lulling the small boat back and forth in a rhythmic undulation.

Sofia stood quietly behind Rafe, her hair whipping around her face like slippery ribbons carried by the breeze, while he held the urn with a steady hand, scattering the ashes over the sun soaked water, the waves scintillating blue and gold.

“Dad did everything for us and he was found at the bottom of the cliff just left there like a piece of trash,” he said with a muted rage. Sofia could sense the hot rays of anger that radiated off of him, mixed with a potent grief. She glanced down in respect, listening to Rafe’s eulogy as she held her hands in front of herself, meekly upholding this funeral service.

She waited a moment, as Rafe dispersed the ashes with a strong right hand.

“I’m so sorry Rafe.” Her words were sincere. She’d always felt deeply, her empathy sometimes soul-crushing. Seeing Rafe so broken, so grief-stricken made her heart hurt for him– as if it was her own father who’d passed away. She tried to suppress her tears, inhaling a short, sharp breath.

Rafe’s face crumpled, the rage giving way to sorrow, “I won’t forget you,” he lamented, throwing the final scoop of ashes into the ocean, before he placed the empty urn down and turned to her, his head bowed and eyes wet.

Sofia sighed, face etched in sympathy as more tears rolled down her cheeks for him. She opened her arms for Rafe as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, silently sobbing against her skin.

Sofia rubbed his terse shoulders, the waves rocking them gently as they embraced, Rafe’s cries soon dwindling into croaks.

He moved away from her, his hands still wrapped around her body, as if she was his anchor, grounding him, preventing him from drowning in a sea of anguish and fury.

“We can head back now, if you want?” He suggested, sniffing away his sobs. Rafe’s eyes were red, mouth still stark with a frown.

“No…it’s ok. Let’s stay for a while,” Sofia let her hands melt away from his shoulders, her fingers finding purchase across the planes of his face as she gently wiped away his tears.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, you can tell me more about him, I’d love to listen…only if you want to.”

“I’d like that…thank you Sofia.”

She gave him a comforting smile, that was still imbued with a sadness she found hard to shake away.

It was Rafe’s turn to wipe away her tears, his calloused fingers lightly running across her brine-stained cheeks before he leaned down and kissed her forehead chastely.

“I love you,” he murmured against her sweet smelling hair.

Sofia let her eyes flutter close in this moment, “I love you too Rafe.”

They stayed on the boat until the waves started to roughen, Sofia leaning against Rafe’s chest, listening to the steady hum of his heart beat. He told her stories of his childhood and of his father, running a gentle hand up and down her body, gaze starting out at the line of the horizon.

It was instances like this that made Sofia forget about the macabre rumours tied to his name or the oppressive differences between pogues and kooks. In these moments she felt like Rafe showed her who he truly was– and for that she was grateful because it meant he could see her too.

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[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 8

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9 - Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI!! female masturbation, lots of angst, loss of parents mentioned, family issues, lots of tears

Summary: You prepare for Thanksgiving with Tommy and he catches you at an emotional point. Thats what friends are for, right? (1.2k+)

a/n: ok idk how this is gonna go over with yall but be gentle because this came to me in a dream, and through validation from @smellslikenevermore. i really dont have much else to say bc this shit is about to get juicy so buckle the fuck up. leave feedback, i rely on strangers validation because im not normal. xoxox

p.s. there will be another chapter posted at some point today, i just didnt want this one to be like 4k words lol.

Your phone rings, jolting you awake. You spit out a groggy “Hello?”. “Hey pretty lady” soft and southern, it warms you like a physical embrace. “Tommy. It is so early.” you say, rolling over and looking at the clock. “I know but I’ve gotta run to the store to grab some stuff for tomorrow, and wanted to beat the crowds. I was gonna see if you wanted to tag along.” You sigh, throwing the blankets off. “Sarah’s gonna come too if that makes it any more enticing.” he says, laughing.  “Yeah why not, give me about 20 minutes and I’ll be over.” 

You open your curtains, just like you do at the begining of every day. Joel’s are still closed, and have been for weeks now. You remember the first night you moved in and how both of your windows were the focal point of the evening. You walk into your bathroom and turn the shower on, extra hot. The steam filling the room makes you sweat, reminding you of your nights with Joel. Sweaty and suffocating. You strip down and walk to your bedside table, pulling out your vibrator. The numbing vibration on your clit makes you cum almost immediately, and the only noise heard is Joel’s name. Over and over. You cant seem to stop yourself, the relief each time better than the last. Imagining the way his fingers fit perfectly inside you, how his teeth left every inch of your skin nipped with passion, how his voice talked you through every step. Time has stopped and the shower is no longer steaming into your room. Your release on the horizon, you’re seeing stars and imagining every position Joel could put you in- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And its gone. As quickly as it came, its gone. You throw your toy in frustration, and throw a robe on. You make your way to the door, opening it to see Tommy and Sarah. “Woah lady!” Tommy says, shielding his eyes. “You said 20 minutes 30 minutes ago, what the hell have you been doin? I tried to call!” he says, making Sarah laugh. “Just wait on the couch. Ill be out in 10.” You say, closing the door behind them and walking to your room. You dont remember hearing your phone ring but then again, you were on a different planet, and time was non-existent. 

Piled into Tommys truck, the 3 of you head to H-E-B. “Alright, I’ve gotta get some beer, some celery, and some bread for the stuffing.” You throw your head in Tommys direction, with a look of playful disgust. “Tommy Miller, how is it the day before Thanksgiving and you dont have the main ingredient for stuffing?” you retort, giving him a light slap on the arm. “Listen, I don’t do the shoppin, blame my brother.” he says. You turn around, looking at Sarah. “And what did you forget?” you say smiling. “I wanted to make chocolate covered strawberries so chocolate and strawberries!” She says excitedly. “That sounds good Sarah! Let me know if you need any help.”  You write 2 lists, handing one to Tommy and keeping one for yourself. He’s in charge of beer and non-perishables. You’re in charge of perishables and wine.

In the store you both grab carts, and go in your separate directions. You grab Sarahs strawberries, Tommys celery, and sweet potatoes for yourself. If theres on thing you can cook, its a mean sweet potato casserole. You head to the alcohol aisle and meet up with Tommy, checking off both your lists. You grab 4 bottles of wine, 2 reds and 2 whites. “Does Joel even know Im coming?” you ask Tommy, watching Sarah grab marshmallows off the endcap a few feet in front of you. “Yeah, I told him.” Tommy says, not saying anything else. You’re trying to gauge his facial expression surrounding the question. “What did he-” “I got the marshmallows!” Sarah says, throwing them into the cart. You leave your sentence unfinished, checking off the rest of the list. 

The ride back is silent, Tommy keeps looking at you like he has something to say but he doesnt. You try not to think about tomorrow, unsure of if being alone is worse than being around Joel. Tears begin to well in your eyes right as you turn onto your street. You force them to stay put, helping Tommy unload the groceries. You help carry everything in with the exception of your things for tomorrow. Walking into the house, you’re immediately paralyzed by the smell, by his  smell. Sarah runs past you, into his arms. “Hi daddy! We went to the store and we got the stuff for my strawberries!” “Thats great babygirl.” he says, kissing her forehead. The tears are back, and theres no forcing them away this time. Your brain is flooded with images of childhood holidays with your family, back when everything was seemingly normal and everyone got along. You feel a tear fall down your cheek as you set the groceries on the island. The same island that he ravaged you on. You look up at him, hoping for any hint of how hes feeling, hoping he’ll pull you into him and wipe your tears, and tell you that everything is okay. But his facial expression is stoic, and he doesn’t move. No sign of any emotion. You wipe your tears and head straight for the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” you exclaim, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Pulling the door behind you before anything else is said. 

You grab your groceries out of the back of Tommys truck and trudge home. You fucking hate the holidays, they havent been the same in years. You turn the key to open your door, and feel a hand on your shoulder. “Sweet girl, whats goin’ on?” and you lose it. 

You drop the groceries and throw yourself into Tommys arms, sobbing uncontrollably. You hear the glass of the wine bottles shatter. “Shhhhh” he says, one hand holding your head, the other rubbing your back. After a couple minutes, you gather yourself and walk inside, leaving the broken glass on your porch and the groceries on the floor inside the door. 

“The holidays are just hard Tommy.” you say, sniffling. Hes in your kitchen putting groceries away. “Trust me, I know. I aint had a mama or daddy to spend the holidays with the last 10 years. And then Connie and Sarah came along, and then Connie left.” You dont say anything, but assume Connie is Sarahs mom. This is the first time either of the men have spoke about her, at least in front of you. You elaborate on your family as well. About how your father in convinced that your ex was the second coming of Christ, and was the best thing that had ever happened to you. About how it was his way or the highway. About his patriarchal ways in the goddamn 21st century. He sits beside you and just holds you again. Your tears slowly stop, but the feeling of sadness and emptiness still resides. You look up at Tommy and hes staring through you. His eyes a deep brown like his brothers, and before you know it his lips are on yours. And you dont pull away.