#In fairness it doesn't hurt the throat as much as the other kind

[theobservatory]

Waitin All Day｡⁠.ﾟ★ ˎˊ˗

｡⁠☆Synopsis: how they confess

｡⁠☆Cw: Grovelling, low self esteem, you take a slight backseat in this one bc it's about THEM confessing not you, suggestive on Bruce's part, you're in a bra on Bruce's part but gn besides for that

｡⁠☆CH: Tim ☆ Jason ☆ Dick ☆ Bruce

✧Bruce✧

Confession in the heat of the moment.

You honestly had no idea Bruce liked you. Sure, you've had a crush on him for going on a year now, but he's so gently tempered and naturally flirty. This man can hide a gunshot wound like it's no problem, let alone some romantic feelings.

You've watched him flirt his way into the pants of all types of people. Some for fun, some for missions, some for WE. Hell, it's not like two haven't done your fair share of fooling around either.

It's not like anyone could blame you. He's rich, kind, and so so handsome. Anyone would do the same in your shoes.

Most people would also advise against falling in love with the most eligible bachelor in all of Gotham, however. In fact, if you were giving advice to anyone else, you would tell them that this is only bound to end in heartbreak.

Yet here you are, drooling over one of your closest, richest, promiscuous, friends. Like an absolute idiot.

Bruce, on the other hand has been head over heels since you first met. He noticed immediately when you started reciprocating.

Did he start flirting with you way more, just to see you flustered? It's a possibility that he won't admit to, if asked. Did he ever actually act on his feelings besides for a couple way too intense make-outs and dry humping? No, he did not.

He's a vigilante, you're a civilian. It just wouldn't work. Even if you do know his secret, his life is dangerous, and he wants danger very far away from you.

Still, he's always been a selfish man. He ends up confessing to you anyway.

It's spur of the moment, words he didn't mean to say. Despite the fear of dragging into his life, of you being hurt or kidnapped, he doesn't regret it. He could never regret loving you.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

You're sitting on his lap while he's laid down on his bed. Your fingers drag from button to button on his shirt, teasingly unclasping them as you lowly ramble on about your day. You're telling a bunch of benign stories, things that don't matter, that Bruce would care to hear about any other time than now.

His pupils are blown a little as his hands hold your hips in place. He's looking up at you with a fondly playful expression, a tiny lit of arousal dancing in his features.

"What about you, Bruce?" You ask, fingers teasing the second to last button on his shirt. "How was your day?"

"Mine? Nothing but meetings on top of meetings, I'm afraid."

His hands begin to roam, slipping under your shirt to tease the clasp of your bra. He does the action like it's absent minded, like he isn't even thinking about where his hands are, but you know he's aware of what he's doing.

You lean down and kiss a few lines up his hard chest. The light stutters in his chest only egg you on. It's like a shock of boldness shoots through you as the tip of your tongue licks at his skin. You might regret that later, but now your hands come up to ghost over his nipples under the guise of shifting his button down.

"I'm sorry your day's been so boring." You murmur into his chest.

"It's much better now."

"Yeah?"

His hand finally unclasps your bra.

"Mhm."

You're flipped suddenly. When your vision is straightened out Bruce's shirt is completely gone, leaving him bare on top of you. It's not easy to bury the heat crawling from your throat to your face, but you manage. Eventually.

Your shirt is next to go, exposing you to the chill of the room. Goosebumps instantly appear on your shoulders, but Bruce is there to rub them away.

"You're gorgeous." He whispers. "Exquisite."

You think that's a bit romantic for a friendly fuck, but okay, you're not complaining. Bruce is the man of your dreams, you'll take whatever placating words he wants to give. You can play pretend. It's like roleplay that hurts your heart afterwards.

Bruce must see a shift in your body language, or maybe he can tell you're not taking his compliment seriously. He frowns deep, an upset furrow in his brow.

"I'm serious. I've never been with anyone as tantalizing as you." His hands run up your shoulders to trap your wrists above your head. "You're beautiful, kind, charming." He plants a kiss to your throat with every compliment. "You're everything anyone could ever want."

You begin to slightly tune out his words. The soft dominance he's displaying is sending you into subspace faster than you want it to. That soft and fuzzy part of your brain is beckoning you back with Bruce's gentle, loving hands. It's too hard to shove it away.

"Do you understand that I'd make you mine if I could?"

"Yours?"

He pauses. You don't see the look of understanding cross his face when he realizes you're slipping away from him. You're turning into a needy puddle under his hands faster than you know, and quicker than you ever have. You barely process when he locks eyes with you. That heady fondness in his eyes that makes you grow warm, turning your already slowly melting brain into jello.

"Mine." He repeats. "I'd take you around to every party, every gala. Wear you on my arm to show off how lucky I am. Would you like that?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

Your lips lock, and one of his hands runs down your sides, feeling you. He leaves tingles behind the pads of his fingers.

"I'll tell you again later, I swear. I'll repeat it as many times as you need me to."

✧Dick✧

A confession connoisseur.

You've been dancing around each other for months. It's painful for everyone involved, including yourselves.

It's not like you both aren't aware that you like each other. You'd have to be blind not be aware of how gone you are for each other.

You both face constant questions. "Are you guys together?" "When are you going to start dating?" "You know he likes you, right?"

Which yes, of course you know he likes you. The man follows you around like a big puppy, and he won't let you open doors if he's around. He basically already acts like your boyfriend.

Heaven forbid you flirt with someone while you're out with him. He's behind you looming, looking just like the big bat himself. So mean, and so protective for someone who isn't dating you.

You always make as much known as well.

You're happy to take another guy's number if he gets his ass in gear. Dick's "You're not actually gonna call him, are you?" Goes completely ignored.

His confession takes forever because he is determined to make it perfect. Richard Grayson-Wayne is a boyfriend extraordinaire, and he wants to make sure you're aware. Hell, if he could swing it he'd ride in on a horse, swoop you up, and ride off into the sunset, like some sort of cheesy Disney movie.

And they say chivalry is dead? Wrong. It's right here.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

You're staying the manor for tonight. Dick is home visiting his family, and as usual, you're glued to his side. Whether it was by choice this time is anyone's guess.

Everyone's out on patrol, Alfred's down in the cave. You're alone in this giant house, besides Damian's various dogs and cats, of course. You took the chance to bond with Titus, you're both down in the family moving room, lounging.

Then a text pings on your phone, causing Titus to sniff at you.

Where r u ?

You roll your eyes.

The manor. Where else ?

No I mean wat room ?

Movie room. The small one.

Perfect. Look under the couch

You do, Titus staring at you with judgement when your back cracks from leaning over the arm.

There's a folded up piece of paper with a heart and your name. "Check the kitchen ♡"

Your phone pings again.

Have fun :)))

From there is a trail of clues. Different pieces of paper. Some with simple riddles attached, others with blatant directions, a few with gifts attached to them. At some point you even have to find Alfred to give you another little slip of paper, much to your embarrassment.

The end of the trail leads you straight to Dick. He's got a soft look on his face, his hair slick, but framing his chiseled face. He's wearing a suit as well, a gorgeous outfit in his hand, clearly tailored for you.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Grayson."

"Ouch, so cold to the man who's about to ask you out."

You smirk, a lovey-dovey emotion rolling around your chest. "Well, I'm waiting."

Dick pulls you toward him, one hand in yours, the other around your waist. He pulls you in so close your nose touch, and then slots himself in the crook of your shoulder and neck.

He whispers your name, but it comes out like a doggish whine.

"We're not even together yet, and I think I like you too much. My heart's beating so fast, it's making me sick. You're my favorite person, you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with- or at least, spend whatever time you'll give me, with you. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

You're speechless for a moment. You're clutching him, mouth agape, unable to see each other's faces.

"Baby, love of my life, will you go out with me?"

"Oh Dick, of course I will."

"Great, because I made dinner reservations for two, and it'd be awkward if I showed up by myself."

✧Jason✧

Thinks you deserve a confession, but is as emotionally constipated as his father, unfortunately.

You know he's trying to confess months before he actually does it. You can see it in the way his fingers linger on your skin, how his cheeks flush when you catch him staring. It's adorable watching this giant wall of a man stumble over you like a little school girl.

You also know Jason is much too proud to allow you to confess first. He would never forgive you if you beat him to the punch, so you wait patiently. Well, maybe not patiently. You're complaining to any friend that will listen to you, griping over how cute it is, but how it's driving you mad that he won't just ask. There's no chance in hell you would reject him, and Jason should know that! You've made yourself incredibly obvious.

Still, he spends months trying and failing to confess to you. He'll start, quiet but firm, a little flush on his cheeks. But the moment he looks at you it all falls apart. His heart stutters, causing his brain to stutter, causing his mouth to stutter, and then he just ends up covering your face with his hand.

You pick fun at him as he tells you to shut up, but you both know he'll have to deal with it until he actually finally confesses.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

"Hey."

You know just by his tone where this is going, you've already played this song and dance twice this month. Still, you tilt your head towards him, giving him your utmost attention.

"Hey yourself."

You're sitting on your couch as he's leaning against your wall. His arms are crossed, eyes averted to the ground. It's weird to see such a big man looking so... Tiny...

Jason huffs out a mirthless laugh. "Sorry, I just- I... Fuck."

"Jason?"

"No, don't talk or I'll lose my nerve again." You smother a giggle with your hand. "Don't laugh either, asshole."

You open your mouth to say sorry, but think better of it at the last second. Your mouth shuts with an audible click.

"Th-Thanks. Listen, 'm sorry I haven't been... The most forthcoming with my emotions. I'm trying, but it's- fuck- it's hard, but I'm trying. I'm trying to be better, I want to be better, for you. It's not fair to confess to you when I can't even talk about how I'm feeling, but I'm still doing it anyway because I'm an asshole. God, I'm such an asshole, but-"

"Jason."

"Let me talk, please. I'm an asshole, I'm cruel, unempathetic, and I'm so scared I'm going to hurt you. You deserve everything and more, and I can't even give you half of it, but-but I'm still begging you to give me a chance. Please."

He's made his way over to the couch. His head is pressed onto your knees, his hands squeezing your calves. You press a hand into his thick black curls, gripping the strands as you run your finger through them.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Jason, did you think I was going to say no?"

"Well- no." Really, you can read each other like books at this point. "But I think you should say no. I think if you had any sort of self preservation you'd say no."

"But?"

"But you're the most reckless Gothamite I've ever met, you wouldn't know self preservation if it punched you in the face."

You laugh, and he looks at you with a fond exasperation.

✧Tim✧

Not the confession type.

He's the type to get worked up about the confession. The type to plan and plan and plan until he can't plan anymore, then scrap the entire thing the moment he sees your face.

Because this isn't good enough for you. Nothing is good enough for you. You deserve anything and everything he could ever give, just a 251 step plan? Not enough.

So getting together with Tim is less confession, and more evolution.

It's "I made us coffee" to "let's hold hands" to "I miss you" to "I love you". It's gradual, soft, and easy. Boundaries are pushed in the most gentle way they can be, words are shared in sounds soft enough only you can hear them. It's a cat's type of love, distant, but intimate at the same time.

｡⁠.ﾟ✧ ˎˊ˗

"I've been thinking about selling my apartment." You say, gazing around at the intermingling of yours and Tim's things.

Your books occupy his bookshelves, and your favorite mug is stacked on top of his dirty dishwasher. The hamper of clothes in the bathroom has your underwear in it, but it's balled up inside one of his shirts. His bedroom smells like your perfume, and his pillowcases smell like your hair products.

Tim's gaze snaps up from his laptop. "I think it'd be good for you to get out of that tiny place anyway." His hand has made its way to your thigh, right above your knee. "It's not like I don't have the room."

"I figured I should tell you first."

Tim's gaze also sweeps around the room. His eyebrow quirks as he turns back to you, making you flush a little. It's not like all your stuff isn't already here. There really wouldn't be a difference in whether you kept your apartment or not, except for how much cash is in your pocket.

"You're sweet." Tim placates, giving your thigh a squeeze before turning back to his work.

Chat here's my confession... I think love confessions are cringe I'm sorry </3 it's just... I'm aro and have vulnerability issues. Tim Drake, you're the only one here who gets it the rest of y'all... Pack it up... (I say as if I'm not the one who wrote this)

Originally was gonna include Damian and Duke but the post was getting laggy.

This is my first time writing Bruce. Did I do well ?

｡⁠☆Requests Open

[ooooo-mcyt]

Another thing I noticed in my rewatch of both Scott and Pearl's Double Life pov's is that nobody really liked either of them. Like I see people take for granted the idea that Scott was somehow "popular" during Double Life but he really wasn't much more popular than Pearl was.

Like, to go down the list of their actual relationships.

The Ranchers hated Scott and were lukewarm with Pearl. From the first episode, Jimmy singled out Scott and Cleo as "fake soulmates" and basically insulted them to their faces in their home about it, and Scott in specific quickly took to antagonizing Jimmy in specific, leading to the two teams being at each others throats very quickly. On the other hand, Pearl makes multiple deals with Jimmy specifically and The Ranchers are pretty civil- even friendly- with her, though they always seem to keep her at arms length and she never feels really welcomed as a true friend with them.

Box Boys had complicated relationships with both Scott and Pearl. Ren and BigB are initially kind to Pearl until she takes their horse as a joke, leading to their death as Ren looked at an enderman while chasing her. After that point, Ren calls Pearl a curse and casts her away, which very much contributes to Pearl's declining mental state. Later on in the series, though, Ren and Pearl mend things a bit, with Ren coming to Pearl after his soulmate "cheats" on him out of a sense of solidarity with being alone. On the other end, Scott initially doesn't have much of a relationship with either Ren or BigB, but BigB ends up holding Scott responsible for their relationship falling apart, which is..not really fair. Don't get me wrong, Scott's relationship ranch was formed to break up soulmate pairs, but Scott didn't actually do anything to break Ren and BigB up, all he did was truthfully report to Ren that BigB expressed relief when Ren was gone, which makes the blame on Scott here very much unfair.

Boat Boys have a neutral to hostile relationship with both Scott and Pearl too. Obviously Joel generally has something against Scott, and targets him regardless of the context, and early on in the series Joel is actually pretty happy with Pearl, praising her for antagonizing Scott and asking her to keep it up, though his opinion of Pearl does also change for the worse when Pearl takes their stuff as a joke after they turn red. In the finale Joel and Etho are willing to work with Pearl temporarily and say their main target is Scott over her, but they're quick to turn on Pearl too when given the chance, so she clearly doesn't have a much higher standing with them.

And then there's Desert Duo. Who have a complicated relationship with Pearl and not much of a relationship with Scott. Scar is the one who gives Pearl the idea to use powdered snow to hurt her soulmate and is happy to help her torture Scott (though he also gives the exact same offer to scott later on, bringing him powdered snow too). Scar is also the one who coins the name "Scarlet Pearl" for Pearl and is one of the biggest pushers of the narrative that Pearl is dangerous. This isn't malicious, in fact Scar hypes Pearl up a lot, but the narrative he pushes is still in many ways harmful to Pearl's reputation and mental state. Late in the season Scar and Grian are also happy to come to Pearl for protection, treating her almost like a weapon.

I think it's pretty clear that neither Scott nor Pearl had friends. Scott actually had fairly negative relationships with most of the server, and I'd honestly argue people generally 'liked' Pearl more. I mean, this is something Pearl herself took note of and commented on to Scott in her finale, the way people were actively targeting Scott but were willing to work with her. Though of course, this doesn't mean people actually treated Pearl better. They may have 'liked' her more, but she was kept at arms length, and I think people moreso saw her as a weapon they could use in their favor than a friend in any case, which was very much damaging and isolating for her.

Of course, Pearl's pov still absolutely feels more isolated than Scott's. But I think people misidentify the primary reason for that as Scott being more 'popular' amongst the server than Pearl. He wasn't.

The reason Scott doesn't feel as isolated is because he had Cleo. In many cases it didn't matter who else was against Scott, because he had Cleo, who loved and supported him unconditionally and was there with him every day. Pearl on the other hand, didn't. She was kept at an arms length, people were often civil enough to her, and she was even in some ways more popular than Scott, but that didn't matter when she was always on the outside looking in without a soulmate and, crucially, without any other support system.

And that, to me, is the big thing with Double Life's social climate. The soulmate pairs often stuck to themselves, they kept everyone at an arms length, if they didn't outright dislike them. Having support systems wasn't a thing, you didn't have anyone to fall back on outside of your soulmate, and you couldn't form that kind of bond because you'd always be treated like an outsider looking in by the established pairs. This was the main cause of Pearl's isolation. It's not because Scott specifically rejected her, and it's not because everyone especially hated Pearl or were out to get her (they literally weren't. every group hated each other. a lot of groups were hated more than pearl.), it's because of the strictly defined in-groups formed by soulmate pairs and the way they discouraged support systems and close non-soulmate bonds.

[nottslove]

Song: Figure you out VOILÀ

event; profile; nav;

5.1 k words.

hi anon! thank you so much for requesting!! so i actually hadn't heard this song before, but once i did, i really liked it. i actually used to listen to against the current music like crazy, they're close friends with voila. anyway, this song gave me draco vibes, both the lyrics and music video. it doesn't help that luke eisner is such a snack himself.

@dearmisshoney, @biscuits-and-gracie, i referenced you guys somewhere in my fic, find the clue.

tags: @dracosprettygirl, @draco-malfoys-lovergirl, this one's for my draco girlies. my first time writing for draco.

warnings: college AU, no other warnings, but it's my first time writing for draco.

song: figure you out, voila slytherin boy: draco malfoy

DRACO Malfoy didn’t do relationships.

He never had, and you had long since accepted that fact. For years, you watched him cycle through girls with effortless charm, each one drawn in by his sharp smirks and silver-tongued arrogance. Three days—sometimes less—was all it took before he grew bored, before they became just another name on a long list of fleeting distractions.

And you? You were the exception.

The constant by his side, the one who didn’t blur into the background like the rest. You saw through the theatrics, through the carefully crafted indifference he wore like armor.

His best friend.

It grossed you out— watching him stick his tongue down every girl's throat, watching his hands trail down to grope the ass of every girl on his arm, watching him easily get them into bed, only to break their heart and never speak to them again.

But it also hurt you.

It was a quiet kind of ache—the kind that settled deep in your bones, familiar yet unbearable all the same.

You had spent years by his side, watching him move through fleeting romances, each one brief, insignificant, never lasting long enough to mean anything. And yet, despite all the girls, all the whispered promises that never held weight, he never once turned that gaze toward you.

Not in the way you wanted.

Not in the way that made your breath hitch, that set your pulse racing, that made you feel seen—not just as his best friend, but as something more.

But that moment never came.

Because to Draco Malfoy, you were just there—his constant, his reliable confidant, the one he never had to chase.

And that was exactly why he never looked at you the way you looked at him.

But even knowing him better than anyone else—there was one truth you couldn’t ignore.

Draco Malfoy didn’t do relationships.

And that meant he would never do you.

The doubt gnawed at you, sinking in deep, relentless.

Was it your glasses, the way they perched on your nose like an unspoken barrier between you and the kind of beauty he preferred? Was it your clumsiness, the way you tripped over your own feet, never quite carrying the effortless grace the girls in his arms always seemed to possess?

Were you simply not enough for Draco Malfoy’s standards?

It wasn’t fair. You had always been there, had always known him better than anyone else. You had seen him in his quiet moments, in his rare instances of vulnerability—the ones no fleeting romance ever got to witness.

And yet, despite all that, despite everything—his gaze never lingered the way you wished it would.

Maybe it never would.

And you had made your peace with that, when Jordan Fletcher, the most popular boy in the college asked you out.

Jordan Fletcher was perfect.

Or at least, that was what everyone told you. He was charming, confident, effortlessly popular—the kind of guy that had girls giggling when he passed by, the whispers in the corridors, the way girls sighed when he merely looked at them, the knowing glances exchanged as if dating him was some kind of prize to be won.

He was effortlessly charming, well-liked, the kind of boy who had people gravitate toward him without even trying.

And when he asked you out, you said yes.

Maybe this was your chance to finally move forward, to step into the kind of romance people envied, to let go of the aching weight that had settled in your chest for far too long.

And so, you said yes.

The bar was alive with laughter, the hum of conversation weaving between the clinking of glasses and the distant pulse of music. Your friends were gathered around, leaning in, eager, their expressions shifting between shock and excitement as you recounted your date with Jordan Fletcher.

“Wait—he asked you out?” Pansy gawked, nearly choking on her drink. “That’s insane. How did we not see this coming?”

They congratulated you, teasing and cheering, absorbed in the moment—but Draco?

Draco Malfoy sat quietly beside you, nursing his drink, his posture impossibly relaxed—too relaxed. He didn’t react. Didn’t blink at the excitement swirling around you, didn’t join in the teasing or the congratulations.

He just watched.

No visible emotion. No smug remark. No pointed teasing like he usually indulged in when it came to your choices. Just the faintest crease in his brow, the smallest twitch in his fingers before he took another slow sip of his drink.

And that—that silence, that indifference—made your stomach twist more than anything.

Because you knew Draco Malfoy better than anyone else.

And you sought his approval.

But when he was quiet like this?

it made you uneasy.

His arm had been around your waist as he held his beer in his other hand, talking in low, dulcet tones to Theo about the latest match, acting completely indifferent to you going out with the most popular boy in Hogwarts.

He was there at your apartment when you got ready for your date, casually scrolling through his phone, and, occasionally, watching you.

He saw you put all that effort into picking an outfit— your favorite floral embroidered bootcut jeans, and a yellow, pastel sweater with a boatneck.

"An occasion for your favorite jeans?" he spoke whilst you had been getting dressed, lounged across your bed with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands under his head, which was propped up on top of your countless pillows and plushies.

You peeked out at him through your glasses and nodded singly, humming, a blush spreading across your cheeks as your eyes sparkled with excitement.

Just then, you noticed where he was sitting, and a small frown crossed your features when you realized he was leaning against your precious plushies.

Your frown deepened as you took in the scene.

Draco Malfoy—lean, infuriating, perfectly composed—was sprawled across the bed, looking thoroughly unbothered, as if he owned the space around him. And yet, your poor plushies—your beloved little panda, your treasured honeybee—were crushed beneath the weight of his sheer arrogance.

“Suffocating them,” you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowing.

Draco barely spared a glance, lifting a brow in lazy amusement. “What?”

You gestured toward the crime scene. “Them. My babies.”

Draco finally shifted, glancing down at the plushies beneath him. He blinked, then—utterly indifferent—gave a slight shrug. “They seem fine to me.”

Your glare sharpened. “They are not fine. They are dying under your complete lack of care.”

A slow smirk curled at the edges of his lips as he exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. “You’re seriously going to lecture me over stuffed animals?”

“You’re crushing them.”

Draco sighed, looking almost bored, but—finally—he leaned forward, freeing your plushies from their untimely demise. You wasted no time in gathering them up, smoothing out their soft fabric, whispering quiet apologies.

A soft chuckle spilled past his lips, and he shook his head slightly. "You act as though they have feelings."

Your heart stopped, and your lips parted as you stared at his as though he had offended you greatly. "They do."

Looking at you, so firm in your belief, Draco had no heart to correct you or argue.

He watched you walk around your room so confidently, showing off those floral-embroidered jeans of yours, and your soft, yellow sweater.

You styled your hair in a half-up, half down style, and even tried to apply mascara, but the moment ended up as nothing short of a disaster.

One second, you were carefully applying mascara, leaning in closer to get the perfect angle. The next—your elbow slipped, your balance failed, and suddenly, you were on the floor, a streak of black smudged across your cheek like the evidence of your failure.

You blinked, dazed, staring at the ceiling as you processed what had just happened.

Then—laughter.

Not yours.

Draco leaning against the headboard, amidst your plushies, arms crossed, his silver eyes glittering with amusement as he took in the sight before him.

“Graceful as ever,” he mused, tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

And you tried to laugh it off, but instead, you gave a defeated sigh and dropped your arms to your sides.

Draco noticed your change in demeanor, and, ever so slowly, he slid off the bed and moved towards you, crouching down on the floor right beside you.

The air shifted.

He had been smirking just moments ago, teasing you, brushing off your clumsiness like it was nothing. But now—now his gaze had softened, sharp edges smoothing into something quieter. Something thoughtful.

His presence was steady, unwavering as he crouched beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, close enough that your pulse stuttered under the weight of his proximity.

He didn’t speak. He just watched—his silver eyes scanning your face, catching the defeated slump in your shoulders, the way your hands hung uselessly at your sides, as if giving up entirely.

And then—slowly, carefully—he reached out.

His fingers brushed against your wrist, featherlight, hesitant.

“You good?” His voice was low, barely above a murmur.

You swallowed hard, forcing out a laugh—trying to shake off the moment. "Mhmm."

Draco scoffed, but there was no bite to it. If anything, it sounded almost amused. But then—his fingers curled slightly, his grip warming around your wrist, grounding.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asked again, softer this time.

And for some reason—for some reason—that question made your breath catch in your throat.

Because he wasn’t teasing anymore.

He was genuinely asking.

And then—without a single word—he reached for the makeup-removing wipe, peeling one from the pack, his fingers steady as he brought it to your cheek.

The cool fabric brushed against your skin, careful, deliberate, wiping away the smudged streak with quiet precision. His touch lingered—not hesitant, but intentional, like he was hyper-aware of every inch of skin beneath his fingertips.

Your pulse thrummed.

Then—before you could process it—he slid the mascara brush from your grasp, taking it effortlessly into his own.

Your breath stuttered. “Draco—”

He held it up, inspecting it for a moment, twisting it between his fingers with ridiculous ease. Then—his gaze met yours, unwavering, silver pooling with quiet confidence.

Draco’s fingers brushed against your temples as he slipped your glasses off, his movements smooth, effortless—like he had done this a hundred times before.

His chuckle was low, teasing, his lips quirking in amusement. “You gotta take these off to apply mascara, love.”

You blinked at him, slightly stunned, slightly breathless.

Because for years, Draco Malfoy had been the definition of untouchable—sharp smirks, effortless arrogance, an unshakable presence. But now, here he was, close enough that his warmth seeped into your skin, close enough that his fingers had just traced the sides of your face with ridiculous familiarity.

He held your glasses in one hand, twirling them absentmindedly between his fingers, silver eyes flicking over your now unobstructed gaze with something unreadable.

Then—without a word—he angled the mascara wand toward you again, his free hand coming up to tilt your chin with gentle precision, steadying you like this moment mattered.

“Trust me.”

The words sent a warmth curling through your chest, tightening your throat.

And when he leaned in, tilting your chin upward with the barest pressure of his fingers, bringing the wand to your lashes with quiet focus—

You let him.

Your pulse thrummed beneath your skin, your breathing shallow as he brushed the wand against your lashes, slow, deliberate. His focus was unrelenting, the teasing amusement fading just enough to leave something softer behind.

Draco exhaled softly, leaning back as if pulling away from some invisible line neither of you had dared to cross.

And just like that—the warmth was gone.

The steady touch, the quiet intimacy, the deliberate care in his movements—all of it vanished in a single breath as he twisted the mascara cap closed, setting it on your dresser with practiced ease.

He studied you, silver eyes flickering over your lashes, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he hummed in approval, his smirk making its slow return.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice so low as he left the room and headed to the kitchen, and for a moment, you almost thought you could have imagined him saying those words.

He opened the door for you when Fletcher showed up at your doorstep, grinning wide, a bouquet of deep red roses in his hands.

He was proud of them, as if he had made some grand romantic gesture, as if he had chosen the flowers himself instead of grabbing the first thing available at the shop.

But the thing was…

You hated roses.

Lilacs were your favorite—soft, fragrant, delicate in a way that made you feel at ease.

Still, it's the thought that counts, and you smiled at Jordan anyway, thanking him gracefully for the flowers.

"In the future, she hates roses—" Draco drawled, speaking up loudly, in a way that made you shake your head furiously and lightly slap his shoulder.

"Shuttup," you hissed, pushing Draco away, but failing— His tall figure was rooted firmly to the spot as he smirked.

"You better take care of her, Fletcher, or else I won't hesitate to kill you," Draco warned, his eyes darkening slightly. "She's my best friend. I want her home by nine."

"Okay, bye," You squeaked, pushing Draco away and dragging Fletcher away to his car, unaware that Draco was watching you open your own door through the window as Jordan took the driver's seat.

"Fucking prick," he muttered.

But you weren't there to hear him.

The second date wasn’t much better. Jordan arrived with a box of chocolates, the expensive kind wrapped in gold foil, a gift meant to dazzle.

You stared at the box, lips pressing together.

You didn’t even eat regular chocolate.

White chocolate was your preference—had always been. And somehow, despite being your boyfriend now, Jordan hadn’t bothered to notice.

Draco noticed.

Draco watched every awkward fumble Jordan made, every attempt to impress you that missed the mark entirely.

He saw how you shivered in the evening breeze while Jordan kept his jacket securely on, never once offering it to you. He saw how your smiles didn’t reach your eyes, how you politely accepted things that didn’t match you at all.

And whenever Draco would ask you why you wouldn't tell Fletcher you didn't like any of the things he gave you, you shrugged it off.

"He's trying his hardest," you defended. "Besides, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Trying his hardest?" Draco echoed, scoffing and shaking his head. "Darling, he's not trying at all."

You brushed his words off, getting ready for yet another extravagant date with your boyfriend.

But Draco was always there, watching.

He saw how Jordan planned elaborate dates in restaurants, grand outings meant to showcase how perfect he was for you—when your ideal date had always been simpler. Quieter. Surrounded by the scent of old books and candlelight tucked between endless shelves in the library.

It was infuriating.

Because for years, Draco had been by your side. For years, he had seen you—your habits, your quirks, the subtle details no one else bothered to learn. And now, as you tried to move forward, tried to date someone who wasn’t him, it was painfully obvious.

Jordan didn’t know you.

Not like Draco did.

And every time Draco saw you settle for less—saw you force yourself to be content with someone who couldn’t appreciate you—his disapproval grew.

But he never said anything.

At least, not until the day Jordan showed up at the Great Hall, all excitement and smugness, declaring to his friends that he had planned “the ultimate date” for you. That this time, he would really win you over.

He was already bragging about how he had rented a yacht to take you out for a romantic dinner on the lake to anyone who would listen. The girls oohed and aahed enviously, and the boys whistled, impressed.

Draco exhaled sharply, pushing off the wall, finally fed up. He strode toward you, his gaze locking onto yours, the intensity in his stare making your breath hitch.

And when he spoke, his voice was smooth, deliberate—laced with something unreadable.

“Tell me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, “how long are you going to let him get everything wrong?”

Your heart stuttered.

You weren’t sure what stunned you more—the quiet intensity in Draco’s voice or the fact that he had finally spoken.

For weeks, he had watched, silently judging every moment, every misstep, but never saying anything. Never interfering. Never giving you even the smallest indication that he cared one way or another.

Until now.

Your breath hitched, lips parting slightly, caught between the words you wanted to say and the ones that refused to form. The question lingered between you, heavy, pressing, waiting for you to acknowledge the truth hanging in the air.

Draco Malfoy wasn’t just unimpressed.

He was angry.

At you. At Jordan. At the entire ridiculous farce you had let play out in front of him.

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach. “I—”

“You what?” Draco’s voice was sharper now, his head tilting ever so slightly, his fingers curling into his palm as if restraining something. His stare burned, demanding an answer, demanding you to wake up and see what was in front of you. "Can't you fucking see it? He's all wrong for you."

But before you could find your words, Jordan’s voice cut through the thick silence. “Hey, babe,” he grinned, completely oblivious to the tension thrumming between you and Draco. “You ready for tonight? I planned something really special.”

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes, but he said nothing.

You forced yourself to nod, ignoring the way your chest tightened. “Yeah, of course.”

Jordan slung an arm around your shoulder, completely missing the way Draco’s expression darkened, the way his fingers twitched with something dangerous.

As the two of you walked away, you didn’t dare look back.

But you felt it.

Draco Malfoy’s gaze lingering on your back, burning into you.

Because this time—he wasn’t just watching.

He was waiting.

For you to realize that Jordan was all wrong for you.

The date was, unsurprisingly, a disaster.

Jordan had clearly put in effort—misguided effort. He had booked an expensive yacht with a restaurant, ordered food without asking what you liked, and spent most of the evening talking about himself, barely letting you get a word in.

And through all of it, your mind kept wandering back to Draco.

To the sharp intensity in his voice when he had confronted you.

To the way he had looked at you—as if he was furious that you weren’t seeing something obvious.

As if he was the obvious answer.

By the time Jordan was walking you back to the college residence, you were exhausted. Not just from the date, but from pretending this was what you wanted.

As you reached the entrance, Jordan turned to you, flashing that easy grin. “See? I told you I could plan the perfect date.”

Freezing in the cool breeze, you gave him a small smile as he tried to kiss you, planting his lips sloppily over yours. You tripped, slightly surprised at the sudden movement from him and he accidentally bit your tongue, and clumsily apologized.

"Thanks, Jordan, I.. I had fun," you said softly, gently hugging yourself, the wind biting at your bare arms.

"See you tomorrow, babe."

You hated that nickname, but you had no courage to tell Jordan that.

And without even walking you to the door, he dropped you off.

The door swung open with force, the sharp sound reverberating through the quiet of your apartment. The sudden movement startled you, your breath catching in your throat as you turned—only to find him standing there.

Draco Malfoy.

Tall, unwavering, his silver eyes cutting through the darkness like they saw far more than you were ready to admit.

It was only then—only in that fraction of a second—that you realized he had been watching. Watching as Fletcher dropped you off, watching as you stumbled toward your door, cold and exhausted from walking too long in heels that weren’t made for endurance.

And then—he moved.

Without hesitation, without pause, his jacket slid from his shoulders in one fluid motion, draping around you before you could even attempt to protest. The warmth of it sank into your skin instantly, swallowing the chill, comforting in a way that made your heart stutter.

He didn’t stop there.

Before you could say anything—before you could process what was happening—he scooped you up effortlessly, arms locking around you as he carried you to the couch like it was second nature, like this was something he had done before.

You should have protested. Should have told him you were fine, that you didn’t need help, that this wasn’t necessary.

But you didn’t.

Because the way he held you—firm yet careful, protective in a way that made your pulse race—was something you didn’t want to pull away from.

Draco exhaled sharply, setting you down, his hands moving with quiet precision as he knelt before you, sliding off your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankles with the softest touch.

“He’s such a douche,” he muttered, voice low, like the words carried weight he couldn’t hide.

You swallowed, watching as he reached for the blanket, unfolding it before draping it over your frame, the warmth settling over you like the final layer of something unspoken.

You didn't argue or protest or make excuses for your boyfriend this time, because for the first time, you felt like maybe— just maybe— Draco was right.

"I'm telling you, he's all wrong for you..."

Draco’s voice was low, unwavering, carrying the quiet intensity of something final.

He wasn’t teasing.

Wasn’t smirking.

Wasn’t throwing in a sarcastic comment just for the sake of irritating you.

No—this was different. This was him looking at you like he had already made up his mind, like he had been biting his tongue for far too long, like the words had been sitting at the edge of his lips, waiting for the moment you would finally listen.

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly beneath the blanket he had just draped over you, warmth curling against your skin.

You eyes watered slightly at Draco's words, and you pushed your glasses further up your nose as they slipped down.

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he interrupted, sharp but not cruel. His eyes flicked to yours, piercing, searching, holding you captive. “I’ve seen him, I’ve seen how he treats you, and I’ve seen the way you pretend it’s enough.”

Your breath hitched.

“I— you don't get to say that,” you finally accused, shakily pointing your finger at him.

Draco’s silver eyes flickered, sharp, unreadable—but there was something else there, something simmering beneath the surface, something dangerous.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t react the way you expected him to.

Instead, he tilted his head, gaze locked onto yours, his expression impossibly calm despite the storm crackling between you.

“Don’t I?” he murmured, voice low, steady—challenging.

Your breath hitched.

“You—” you tried again, grasping for words, for something solid, something that wouldn’t crumble beneath the weight of his presence. “You don’t get to tell me who’s wrong for me. You don’t get to—”

“To what?” Draco interrupted, stepping closer, closing the space between you like it meant nothing. “To care? To have an opinion? To notice?”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“This isn’t—”

“This is,” Draco cut in, quieter this time, his eyes searching yours, sharp, unwavering. “You think I haven’t been paying attention? You think I haven’t watched you settle, time and time again, convincing yourself that this—” he gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the ghost of Fletcher’s presence “—is what you deserve?”

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I know you better than anyone, love. And I know—”

He inhaled sharply.

“I know when someone isn’t enough for you.”

The room felt impossibly small.

And suddenly—you weren’t sure if you could breathe.

Hot tears began spilling down your cheeks, and a small gasp left your lips at his words, and you pushed him away.

Draco barely moved when you shoved him, but something in his expression flickered.

He had been calm—too calm—like he had been expecting your outburst, like he had known it was coming from the moment he let those words slip.

But now—now his jaw tightened, his silver eyes darkened, something unreadable pooling beneath the surface.

“You don’t get to act like you know everything about me,” you snapped, your voice trembling with frustration, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. “You don’t get to decide who’s right for me or tell me what I deserve!”

The blanket pooled at your feet as you kicked it off, shoving yourself up from the couch, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Draco’s chest heaved with the force of his own words, his silver eyes burning, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was barely restraining himself from shaking you, from making you understand.

“I just know that you deserve better,” he roared, voice cracking at the edges, thick with something too big, something too real.

Your breath hitched, your pulse stammering wildly in your veins, because—this was not the Draco Malfoy you were used to.

Not the effortlessly composed boy who smirked at every opportunity.

Not the one who scoffed at emotions, who dismissed anything remotely vulnerable with a flick of his wrist.

This was him breaking.

This was him exposing something he had buried for far too long.

And you—standing there, shaking, teary-eyed, confused—weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“I deserve better?” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, incredulous. “And who, Draco? Who decides what’s better? You? I have the most popular boy in the school,” you breathed, a shaky laugh leaving you, one that lacked mirth, but was birthed completely of irony. "What could be better than that?"

Draco inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustrated, lost, and for the first time, you saw it—

The truth that had been staring at you all along.

“Me,” he admitted, his voice a low growl, rough, raw, something dangerous.

And suddenly—the ground beneath you didn’t feel so steady anymore.

Because this was a confession.

One that could change everything.

Your heart shattered.

And before you knew it, Draco’s grip was firm yet impossibly careful, fingers curling beneath your jaw, tilting your face upward as he yanked you closer—closer than you’d ever been before, closer than you’d ever let him be.

And then—his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t soft.

It was real.

Raw.

Unfiltered emotion pouring into every movement, every breath, every silent confession that neither of you had spoken aloud before this moment.

His mouth moved against yours like he had been holding back for years, like this had been bottled up inside him, buried beneath layers of tension and denial and frustration, waiting for the second he could finally have you.

And Merlin—he kissed like he meant it.

Like there was no question, no hesitation, no room for doubt.

Like he was determined to make sure you never compared him to Fletcher again.

By the time you pulled back, gasping, heart pounding, Draco’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his grip still steady beneath your jaw.

Silver eyes burned into yours, dark, searching.

Waiting.

And then, voice rough, low, utterly unapologetic, he murmured—

“Now tell me he’s better.”

Draco didn’t give you a chance to process it—to step back, to second-guess, to question what had just happened.

His grip remained firm beneath your jaw, his breath heavy against your lips, his presence impossibly close—closer than he had ever let himself be before.

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

Because he had kissed you.

Not tentatively. Not cautiously.

But with conviction.

Like it was inevitable. Like he had been waiting for this moment far longer than either of you wanted to admit. Like he needed you to understand—finally, completely, without doubt—that Fletcher had never been the right choice.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his fingers curled just slightly around your jaw, keeping you still—keeping you here.

Then, voice thick with something heavy, something real, he murmured—

“Now tell me he’s better.”

His silver eyes searched yours, daring you—challenging you—to deny it.

But you couldn’t.

Because in that moment, with your lips tingling from his kiss, with the weight of his touch grounding you, with the truth crackling in the air between you—

You knew.

Fletcher had never come close.

And Draco Malfoy?

He had always been better.

Draco’s grip on your jaw remained firm, his silver eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, unrelenting.

He had kissed you with certainty, with conviction—like he had always known this was inevitable, like he had been waiting for you to see it, to feel it, to understand.

Now, his breath was heavy against your lips, his presence overwhelming in the best way, and his challenge still hung in the air.

"Now tell me he's better." He repeated, waiting for you to say it.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding beneath your skin, the weight of his touch grounding you even as your entire body fought against the chaos inside you.

Because Fletcher?

Fletcher wasn’t better.

Fletcher had never been.

And Draco knew it.

You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against your jaw, in the way his forehead pressed gently against yours, in the way he refused to step back—refused to let you run from this moment.

From him.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

And Draco’s grip tightened, just slightly, like he needed you to say it.

Like he needed to hear you admit it.

But instead—your hands moved before your mind could catch up.

Grabbing onto his shirt.

Pulling him in.

Closing the space entirely as your lips crashed into his again—hotter, hungrier, like something inside you had snapped, like something inside you had finally given in.

Draco exhaled sharply against your mouth, sinking into the kiss instantly, like he had been waiting for this, like he had known all along that you’d eventually find your way to him.

And as his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like he never planned to let go—

You knew.

There was no better.

There was only him.

event; profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[stevieschrodinger]

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

[bitterbutblue]

our times

turns out, you're the fortune i want to keep most ☆ multi x reader

~ this is a multi x reader!! hatssun was talking about writing angst and i really said omg my turn! sorry hatssun ur idea was so good and it works so well w yukong and feixiao... ill credit u so hard bro i swear. WVERYONE BE PREPARED FOR WHEN THINK FAST DROPS🙏🙏🙏

UMM ALSO THE FEIXIAO ONE IS SOLONG FOR NO REASON LOTS OF DIALOGUE SORRYYYYY

characters: feixiao, yukong, ruan mei

 song: 小幸運 - Hebe Tian ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

i was too busy chasing shooting stars in the sky ☆ feixiao

The day Saran ran away, something in you ran with her. The day Saran ran away, you didn't know if you would ever see her face break into a smile again, or if you would see her hanging the next day. The trace of her slowly faded with time, but even when you finally had the guts to bolt for it she was still the only thing on your mind. That day, you didn't mind if you died running, because it would've been better than staying there but alive. You didn't mind if you died running, because you died with her on your mind.

God knows how many decades had passed since the Luofu took you in. You only count days in how much your heart ached for her. Eventually it dulls down, it goes from a sharp thud to a muted nudge every time you see a dash of silver hair in the crowd or a sharp but soft smile on Jing Yuan's lips. You've heard of how far she had gotten, and you wished it didn't hurt so much to hear about it. You forced yourself to forget about her, because you couldn't keep living every day haunted by her. You were finally able to live your days how you wanted to, even if it meant without her by your side.

"Yukong, can you run these by the general for me?"

You were absentmindedly sitting at your desk, filling in whatever forms the general had sent to you about all the legality things they had to sort out for the Wardance. You spin your pen, signing your name down and ticking the last of the boxes. You huffed at the lack of response from the woman who should be sitting across from you.

"Yukong?"

"She's not here."

You look up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and the world decides to take a break for a moment. In that small fraction of a second you feel yourself going back in time for decades until you are standing face to face with the young foxian, bruised and battered with an undying flame in her eyes. She is now much taller, her face pale but not the sickly kind that she harboured before. Her eyebags faded, hair flowing as if it had been just washed- a sight you never saw before in those camps.

She looked healthy, she had everything she wanted.

So why did she look like she was about to break down in front of you?

It wasn't fair.

"Saran?"

She only nods, standing with her arms by her side like a fool who doesn't know how to speak. She clears her throat, moving to cross her arms so she looked less awkward standing in front of you.

She wears clean clothes, she smells of petals.

Her scent of blood long faded, but you feel the pain behind her stance.

"How have you been?" Is all she asks as she eyes your desk warily, as if not knowing how to approach the conversation.

"Well. You?"

"Good enough."

Your old banter had long faded now, your previous ability to make each other laugh despite knowing the imminent death that looms over you two every day.

"Neergul died."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

It's like talking to a wall, or to just a mirrored version of yourself with how either of you refuse to look at each other.

"I never knew if you died or not until I came here."

Your shaky voice finally cuts the tension that has been simmering for far too long. She swallows, looking up and you know she is holding back tears because she has only ever looked up when the night sky is open and she can see the stars that granted her hope.

"I found out you became general. I was happy for you."

She says nothing.

"Why didn't you reach out?"

The edge to your voice has her breath knocked out of her lungs for a second as she tries to formulate an answer. She tries to weave incoherent thoughts and jumbles of emotions into a sentence and it's much harder to be done than she realised.

"I couldn't."

Of course she couldn't. Why would she admit to you how much of a coward she was? Knowing she had abandoned you after kissing you goodnight that evening.

"Why?"

But you want answers. It's not every day your presumed dead lover comes back to see you after years and years of crying yourself to sleep and hoping that in another future you could be in her arms without having to fear for your life.

"I was scared."

The general cannot be scared, or show any signs of fear in any situation- especially emotional situations where they need to stay calm so that people can feel secure around her but right now it all falls apart.

"Of who?"

"You."

"Why?"

You really did not like to raise your voice but you couldn't help it- she infuriates you. From the moment she flooded your heart you realised why love and hate go hand in hand because you hate that you love her.

"Why now?"

"I don't know."

Is all she manages to stutter out after an incredulous minute of silence and you just sigh.

"Why didn't you come find me?"

Her question has you going speechless now.

You were a hypocrite.

"I don't know."

She just nods with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I don't regret what I did that night."

You squeeze your now-fisted hand tight, taking a deep breath in to try to not only steady your voice but calm your racing heart that threatens to beat so hard it shatters in your chest.

"But why? Why make me love you for decades if you never planned to return?"

"I wanted to return. I always did."

Her words come out much more rushed than she intended it to come out. You feel your world shatter in that moment as you speak your next words.

"You never moved on?"

She steps closer.

"I dreamt about you every night. Under the sea of the shooting stars."

You shake your head, quickly wiping away at your own tears and she has to take a sharp breath in so her tears don't fall.

"Don't say that." You whisper "We can't. Please."

She looks at you, more intensely than ever as her voice quivers.

"Why?"

You shake your head.

"It'll only hold us back."

You still adorn matching scars from the torture you both had gone through in those camps. She is the scar on your heart, and you are the scar on hers.

"We can't." Is all you say.

She turns around and you want to pull her into your arms, you want her to be able to look at you but from that moment on, the look on her face as you ended what it was and what it could’ve been would be the face you see every night you close your eyes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

somewhere in the sky i could not see, was you ☆ yukong

The evening Caiyi died in her arms, Yukong vowed to never see the skies again. That was the same evening you went missing, the same evening she breaks down because how can she lose two of what she loved most in her life within the blink of an eye? The reason for her to wake up every morning, the reason she smiled even through the roughest of the days- now faded into nothing but memory and a distant bitter taste in her mouth.

You were not presumed dead, only missing. The false sense of hope had Yukong staying at her desk for hours every day, going through files and files, records upon records to try and maybe find some trace of you somewhere but after years of searching she finally gave up. She had to care for Qingni for Caiyi, she had to keep loving you because if she doesn't then she feels like she's lost herself.

It was the day Qingni flew to the skies when she finally looked up once more. She looks to the planes to see her daughter flying the same path that doomed her from wanting to live but the sky was the reason she had the two people who made life worth living. It was that day a plane crashed and Yukong felt the familiar, sickening feeling from decades ago as she runs to the sight. She's panicked, flustered, heart racing and feeling like throwing up as she pushes past crowds amongst crowds-

She doesn't know if she should scream or sigh in relief when they pull the lifeless-looking figure out of the starskiff. The model was old, the same she used in the war where she lost....

You. The figure they pulled out was you and she feels like she's going to be sick. She runs up to them, asking if you're okay and the medics are telling her to back off but she needs to know. She puts her head down, ear against your chest and almost sobs when she hears your heart thud weakly. It's so soft she really could've missed it but she hears it.

"Oh baby..."

She whispers as she cradles your head on her lap.

She sits by your side in the hospital until you wake up. She doesn't move, doesn't eat or drink or anything unless Qingni drags her to the bathroom or to the cafeteria. She holds your hand weakly, squeezing it every once in a while to see if you'd respond.

A cough jolts her awake and she quickly scans the dark, dimly lit room to find you- blinking weakly as you scan the room wearily.

"Oh, oh my god."

She quickly gets off her chair, rushing by your side.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling? Nurse-"

"Yukong."

She never thought she'd hear her name fall from your lips, to hear her name mumbled out so softly and hoarsely again.

"I'm here, I'm right here."

You don't say anything as you close your eyes, taking in a deep but pained breath as you close your eyes. She can feel her hands go cold, trembling violently as she tries to calm herself down. Her fingertips feel like they've been dipped in ice water and her throat feels like its closing up violently.

"You're here."

Yukong couldn't help the sob that escapes her lips at your words.

"Yes, yes baby. I'm right here."

The tears are already falling before she can even bother trying to control them, and she can already feel herself slipping away when you smile softly at her because she had always been a fool for you. She put the whole world down for you and she would lift it up for you if you needed it to be lifted again.

"I- I came back."

"You did, you did baby, you're back." She whispers, finally moving to take your hand in hers. You feel so much smaller, your hand much rougher than it used to be and when she finally takes in how scarred you are she feels like breaking down.

"Wanted to see you..." you whisper weakly, voice shaking as you look directly into her eyes.

Your eyes were nothing like the eyes she used to look at every night before she drifted off to sleep. Now they were hollow, every trace of who you once were has faded into the past that only resides through her dreams.

You were back, but you'd never really be back.

She just squeezes your hand gently as she tells herself it's okay, telling herself that you're physically here and you were somehow still alive and that's all she's been praying for since the day you fell.

So why does it hurt so much?

If all she's ever wanted was to have you back in her arms, why does it hurt so much to have you back now? Looking at her with a smile that no longer meets your eyes and a sense of coldness washing over her like a suffocating blanket every time she sees you.

She still loves you.

She still loves you and it hurts that her lover has died, reincarnated into a broken version of who she once loved. But she doesn't care. She will learn to live with the cold if it means being able to hold you once more. She would spend as long as she needs, puzzling every piece of you back together until you are able to smile at her without the history of all that happened haunting your every waking move.

She vowed, from that moment on, she'd start looking at the sky again because the sky brought you back. Every evening she stares up at the moon, watching it dim the lights to another day, and whisper her gratefulness to have her lover back. Every evening, she brings you out to look at the moon, the same moon you looked at during the two decades apart where the only thing you had together was the moon draped in the sky that she was too scared to look at.

"I love you."

You just lean your head against her chest.

You just listen to her heartbeat, and with each thud the cracks in your body begin to renew themselves- you would never be who you were, but you would always love her.

"I love you too."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

every scene was you ☆ ruan mei

The day she left, she vanished. No note, no text, nothing. Ruan Mei had become nothing but a shadow on earth when she decided to leave your house and you questioned if it was even worth searching for her at that point.

She had always been obsessed with aeonhood, aeons, power- whatever. You knew she was. Yet you still loved her for it, and she always promised you that one day you two would be able to love each other for eternity, for as long as you wanted to and until time itself faded into nothing but what was a mere idea of the past. She held you close that evening when she promised you, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you.

A week later, she vanishes.

Lab empty, notes packed away, it was like as if your house had gone back in time to before you met her with how empty it all was. You called her number, texted her phone, contacted everyone she knew which was not a lot but you still tried because you loved her.

The day she revealed herself as the 81st member of the genius society, you felt your entire being shatter into pieces of who it once was. That was why she left you. Ultimately, Ruan Mei was selfish, and she had always been a selfish person.

You were foolish for loving her.

But you couldn't stop.

By the time you finally encountered her again, your history had become just a speck of dust in her mind but it was still your reason for hurt. It was still the reason why getting out of bed was a bit harder and why looking in the mirror hurt just a bit more than it should.

"Oh, it's you."

Her monotonous voice has you wanting to squeeze her throat, strangle her until she can't speak but you don't move. You stare at her, her lack of reaction, her poker face and you just swallow.

"How are you?"

That was the only sentence you could manage out and if you looked closely enough, you could see her eye twitch slightly as her throat tightens- her composure begins breaking at the sound of your voice.

"Well." She nods. She sounds too composed to you despite all the pain she is desperately trying to hide. She hates you for making her feel this way. She hates how weak she feels when you make that face at her, when your eyes widen and your mouth tightens into a line, body tense and breathing shallow. "You?"

She notices how your body tenses even more at that question, how your eyebrows begin to furrow as your face grows pink from anger.

"Not very good."

"Oh."

Her response had you fuming even more. How she was so careless and thoughtless towards you and how you felt drove you off the walls. She doesn't give a shit about you, why would she even ask?

Because you don't see the guilt that eats away at her heart every night as she stares at the photo of you that she has on her bedside table.

"Congratulations. You did it. Genius society."

It came out bitter and harsh, and Ruan Mei doesn't flinch but she feels this twist in her gut that's too unfamiliar and too painful for her to fully register. She doesn't understand this feeling. She wants to, because she wants to know how to stop it.

"Thank you."

You scoff at her response, physically unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to her, jabbing a finger into her chest.

"You're a fucking bitch."

She hates how her heart leapt at the feeling of your touch, she hates how your words actually manage to hurt her when it really shouldn't be affecting her at all. She's been called so much worse, so why does this, coming from you, hurt so much?

"Is this because I left?"

How can she be so dense?

"You left without saying a word! You just disappeared off the face of the earth, I don't hear from you saying where you are. I don't know what happened, I thought I did something wrong, but no- I remember who you are. A narcissistic bitch who only cares about herself."

The last part hurt more than it should've.

"I don't only care about myself."

You can't help but falter at how soft her voice suddenly goes as she looks down, not making eye contact as she shifts her bodyweight from foot to foot.

"I really cared for you."

Those words shouldn't affect you. You should've moved on from what happened almost twenty years ago now but you can't. You just stare at her and you hate how you feel tears start to form in your eyes as you blink violently, trying to hold it back.

"Don't say that to me."

She goes silent.

"I hate you."

She looks down and you don't see the tears that well up in her eyes.

"I really hope you succeed. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted."

She doesn't even get to see your face for the last time, because by the time she finally gets the courage to look up you were already gone. Your last words to her haunt her every time she begins her studies, or every time she tries to focus on figuring out creating a new life species. She knows you didn't mean it, yet she can't help but want you to notice her just one last time.

Maybe this time, she could fulfil her long broken promise to you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

@44rtem idk ifthis is the ruan mei content u wanted... but here u go <3

[ihrtnanami]

last christmas!

gojo satoru! x f!reader

inspired by wham!'s last christmas! relationship revival on the most romantic day of the year!?

pt. 1 (currently reading!) pt. 2 (finale - out soon!)

word count: 1.7k (next chapter will be longer :3)

christmas time - one of the best times of the year.

to most people it is. and for you, it usually would be too.

but, last christmas still has you a bit shaken.

you spent it with satoru. and on that same day, he left - no explanation, no goodbye. he was just… gone.

it hurt. badly.

in the beginning, you tried to reach out to him, desperate for answers, some kind of closure. but every text, every call, was met with silence. when he finally did speak to you, his words were colder than the snow falling outside.

"you deserve more than this," he said to you once, his voice cracked with guilt.

and after that, you had to let him go. it was the only thing left to do. the love you once shared felt like a dream you couldn't quite touch anymore.

now it’s late december, and you should have finished your christmas shopping by now. honestly, you’ve had plenty of time... but between being a full-time college student and working a full-time job, procrastination has crept in like an old friend.

or maybe you’re just avoiding the season altogether. it’s hard to focus on the festivities when last year’s ghosts still linger in your mind.

in the bustling mall, you glance at your phone, double-checking the names and gifts you’ve bought so far.

candles?

check.

tea set?

check.

digital camera?

also check.

sighing, you adjust the handful of bags in your grasp. you've been shopping for a little while now. it's time for a break, right?

scanning the food court, your eyes land on a small cafe tucked into a corner. it's charming with warm lighting and a cozy, minimalistic vibe. the windows are adorned with simple christmas garlands, and the faint smell of fresh pastries drift through the air.

"maybe i'll grab a coffee... and a pastry." you think to yourself.

lugging around all of the bags in your hands, you walk to the cafe and wait in the relatively short line. as you wait, you let your gaze wander, taking in the little details of the shop - the chalkboard menu with cheerful handwriting, the tiny wreath hanging above the counter.

it was all so comforting.

once you turn back to look at the line ahead of you, something catches your eye. to the left, there's someone sitting alone.

white hair, fair skin.

"that's a nice head of hair for an old man." you think to yourself - until the man turns to face someone trying to get his attention.

"huh, that looks exactly like..."

"gojo!" a barista calls out.

shit.

you instinctively pull your coat up to cover your mouth and let your hair fall over your face. maybe, just maybe… you can avoid this.

but even with your little disguise, you know he’s already spotted you.

damn six eyes.

you reach into your pocket and take your phone out, scrolling through your notifications, hoping satoru would get the hint. but does he?

absolutely not.

with his coffee in hand, and his muffin in the other, he strides up to you.

your heart races, and all you want to do is leave the cafe and never return to this mall again.

"y/n?"

sighing, you turn off your phone and shove it back into your pocket. pulling the coat away from your mouth, you nod.

"hi, gojo," you reply flatly.

he looks down at the ground, he looks almost... defeated? surely, he didn’t expect you to address him by his given name, right?

he clears his throat, "last-minute christmas shopping, huh?"

you nod, stepping forward as the line moves.

he looks around awkwardly. there's so so much he wants to say, but doesn't know if he should.

"how's everything?" he asks.

"everything's fine, can't complain," you reply.

satoru nods, "good, good,"

the silence between you is heavy, filled with unsaid words.

"so... how's your-" he begins, but the barista interrupts, calling you to the counter to place your order.

you step forward, grateful for the excuse to get away, even for a moment.

after placing your order, you pull out your wallet to pay, only to notice satoru has already covered it. you stare blankly at the screen wishing you a "merry christmas".

you stare at the screen, then back at him, shaking your head.

at the pick-up counter, you drop your bags to the floor, finally allowing yourself a moment to breathe. but of course, satoru follows, standing a little too close for comfort.

"so, as I was saying," he begins again, "how’s your mother? do you think she remembers me?"

you raise an eyebrow.

“she’s fine, and of course she remembers you, gojo. i don't see why she wouldn't,” you respond coldly.

his lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. he’s probably fishing for an ego boost. as expected.

awkward silence envelops you both before satoru breaks the silence again.

"hey, y/n?"

you turn to face him with tears threatening to fall. and yet, they don't.

"what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

his eyes widen slightly before he sets his coffee and muffin on the counter and wraps his arms around you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n i-" and once again, the barista interrupts. she calls out your name, placing your drink and pastry in front of you on the counter.

"damn it... hey, go sit at that table over there, i'll bring your stuff," satoru says gently, reluctantly letting go of you. he smiles softly and nods towards an empty table with two chairs.

you nod silently, walking to the table as you blink away your tears.

why are you getting emotional now? in front of satoru too, nonetheless.

satoru hurries over with your shopping bags, setting them beside you before rushing back to the counter. moments later, he returns with your drink and pastry, followed by his own.

placing your things in front of you, he takes the seat across from you. he watches as sat there in silence, fighting away your tears.

"y/n? are... are you alright?" he asks, his gaze dropping to the table.

of course you aren't alright, but you're far too stubborn to admit it to him.

you sigh, taking a deep breath.

"i'm alright, gojo. don't worry," you say.

grasping your cup, you feel the comforting warmth of the coffee inside. you lift it to your lips, taking a small sip, savoring the taste and heat.

satoru watches you silently, unsure of what to say. he of course isn't convinced by your words.

you place the cup back down, avoiding satoru's gaze. you didn't want to look at him - not now, not yet.

satoru takes a deep breath, his fingers absently crumbling pieces of his muffin as if he’s trying to stall for time. then, with a voice flat and emotionless, he begins to speak.

"i killed my best friend last christmas."

the words hang heavy in the air, their weight sinking into you like stones.

killed... his best friend?

what kind of sick joke is this?

you blink at him, trying to understand what he means. is he calling you his best friend, and the break up the death of you?

"last christmas, before I came to your apartment, the higher-ups called me in to do something,” he continues, his gaze distant, avoiding yours entirely.

“you remember me showing up late, right?"

the memory flashes in your mind. he had shown up late that night. you'd asked him about it, but he’d brushed it off with some vague excuse.

you nod, still trying to piece together where this is going.

"suguru... it was... suguru," he added, his gaze dropping to the table as if the name alone was too heavy to bear. "i had to kill him. last christmas. right before i was supposed to come over to your place."

you freeze as your grip on your cup tightens momentarily. the name strikes you like a slap, leaving you breathless.

he... killed suguru? why?

your heart pounds as you stare at him, waiting for him to explain. satoru’s lips press into a thin line, and he takes another shallow breath before continuing.

"he committed a mass murder of non-sorcerers," satoru says, his tone steady but hollow.

all this time, you’d thought suguru was ignoring your texts because of your split with satoru.

"suguru?" you whisper, your voice cracking. "he... he did that?"

satoru nods, his expression unreadable.

"it wasn’t the first time, but it was the worst. he’d gone too far. the higher-ups ordered me to deal with it... and i did."

you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling. suguru - kind, funny, sarcastic... suguru was capable of something like that? and satoru... satoru had been the one to...

"i didn’t want to," satoru says suddenly, his voice trembling now. his hand tightens around his cup, shaking the coffee inside.

"i wanted to save him. i tried. god... i tried so hard. but he wouldn’t stop. he wouldn’t come back."

you see his jaw tighten, his eyes glistening with something that looks suspiciously like unshed tears.

"so, when i showed up at your place that night," he continues, his voice quieter now, "i wasn’t just late, y/n. i was broken. i had just taken the life of my best friend, and... i didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t even know how to face you."

a lump forms in your throat, and you struggle to swallow it down.

"why... why didn’t you tell me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

satoru looks at you, his usually bright eyes dim and clouded. "because i couldn’t drag you into it, i wouldn't allow you to get dragged into the mess, the aftermath of the mess. and... because i... well, i thought you’d hate me. because i hated myself."

you sit there, staring at him, as the pieces of the past year start to fall into place. the guilt in his voice when he left. the way he avoided your calls. his sudden absence, like a ghost fading into the background of your life. it all makes sense now, but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

"you deserved better than the wreck of a person i became," satoru admits, leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking slightly. "i thought i was protecting you by leaving, but... i just ended up hurting you more."

for a long moment, neither of you says anything. the quiet hum of the cafe feels louder than ever, the muffled conversations around you blending into meaningless noise.

12/15/2024 ♡ ihrtnanami

[kyouka-supremacy]

i think atsushi has slowly, almost imperceptibly, become an expert at reading akutagawa. and sometimes, it catches akutagawa off-guard. atsushi can sense when something’s wrong. even through the driest, most neutral responses. one of the most quietly moving things about akutagawa is how honest he is. but he undercuts his own feelings constantly, like he doesn’t believe they matter. atsushi sees through all of that. maybe even better than akutagawa himself by now.

he doesn’t always say something. sometimes, he just gives akutagawa one of his soft, steady looks—the “you don’t have to hide from me, you know.” and it stuns akutagawa every time. because that look makes space. it makes room for feelings he usually buries. and so, slowly, he starts giving his emotions a little more of a fair chance. if the weretiger thinks they’re worth paying attention to... perhaps he can try. he’s not always successful. defensiveness still comes first. it’s instinctive, a shield before he even knows he’s raised it. but that care, that quiet attention atsushi offers—it sticks in his head. it stays. and somehow, that starts to matter.

(i hope you feel better soon. the sheer love and care you put into your blogs is so wonderful. so genuine. it inspires me to be freely passionate about the things i love too!! <3)

Oh God. Oh God, I love all of this so much 😭😭😭 This is all so true. I agree with this on a spiritual level. The thing is, that Atsushi is canonly perceptive of people in general. It's made explicit in chapter 51 (below), but you can also tell how acute he is by how quick he was to clock the ministry of justice official for lying to him in chapter 57.

The thing is, this already established skill of his only gets amplified tenfold when it's Akutagawa because- you already know why. Because their hearts beat in sync and they know each other better than they know themselves. So yeah, Atsushi would notice. Would immediately realize if something is up with Akutagawa, no matter that Akutagawa's complex relationship with his own emotions and ever swinging temperament makes it hard to tell. To me it's especially heartwarming that oftentimes Atsushi will realize Akutagawa has something that's bothering him before Akutagawa realizes it himself. And another very sweet trope, when in fics Atsushi meets Beast Akutagawa, and he's identical to Akutagawa in everything; yet Atsushi can tell immediately, from a very raw, very visceral feeling, that that's not his Akutagawa. Because he just knows him so well! Not from anything that he can pinpoint in particular, but rather just a primal feeling of recognition for his other half when he sees it.

Not to mention Akutagawa's utter shock and disorientation at this. Because to be read so accurately, even back when they were still at their knife-at-each-other's-throats stage, left him bare and defenseless all of sudden, with no notice or time to prepare. It's different from how it was with Dazai, who didn't read Akutagawa as much as he controlled him to feel the emotions he wanted to, coerced the emotional reaction he wanted out of him. Atsushi doesn't do that; he simply understands. And that only doubles down the impact that has on Akutagawa after he's realized it, because no one had cared to understand him before; and it's terrifying.

I love how you described Atsushi handling it 🥺 This is yet again something that makes me very soft about them (although, I realize I'm saying that for everything they do ahah), the way they're... Not accustomed to look after each other rather than hurt; but there'll come a point where they'll want to, whether they're good at it or not. And Atsushi *is* a little good at it, because, kindness comes easier to him, right? Perhaps not when direct to Akutagawa, but even then, he's determined to learn. And the sskk progression of going from a place where they can only hurt each other, to one where they care for and nurse the other at the best of their abilities is endlessly touching.

[frickingnerd]

love triangle with hajime & nagito

pairing: hajime hinata x gn!reader x nagito komaeda

tags: jealousy (mutual), the boys trash talking each other, fights/arguments, ultimate!reader, reserve course student!hajime

while the two boys fight over your heart, hajime is the civil one, while nagito is willing to do whatever it takes to make you choose him

hajime really wants to play fair and he wants you to choose the boy your feelings are stronger for

however, seeing how willing nagito is to play dirty does bug hajime and he keeps finding himself tempted to use the same tricks to win you over that nagito uses

nagito talks badly about hajime towards you, constantly reminding you that he's a mere reserve course student, while the two of you are ultimates

he wants you to know that you two are better and that you only deserve the best! and while he might not be the best, he's at least better than some commoner who bought his way into a prestigious school

hajime finds himself using a similar technique against nagito, reminding you of how cruel the boy is to commoners like him and how you shouldn't settle for a mean boy like nagito

you deserve someone nice, someone who treats all people equally! sure, he didn't have an ultimate talent to offer, but he could love you more than anyone else in the world could! 

aside from all that, both of the boys are really jealous! 

usually hajime isn't the jealous type, but nagito just hits a nerve for him and he can't help but feel his blood boil when he sees nagito get all cozy with you! 

and nagito doesn't feel much different! 

whenever he sees you be friendly towards hajime, he feels like throwing up! you were simply too kind, wasting your kindness on a nobody like hajime…

nagito loves to make hajime jealous on purpose, trying to let you see how your favorite reserve course gets so upset whenever nagito just does as much as hug you or compliment you

honestly, the two are constantly at each other's throat, arguing because of you – and often even in front of you! 

you better pick one of them quickly, before they end up hurting each other in some stupid fight one of these days…

[lizzieisright]

if you wrote that backstory idk dude maybe i’d kiss you

alpha abby >>

Honestly I wrote it and for some reason it gives me Pride and Prejudice vibes idk idk

alpha!Abby x omega!reader, just two paragraphs of smut (MDNI), alpha!Abby is sweet eventually, mention of heats/ruts, written on a knee without editing, backstory for these idiots.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When Abby meets you she is baffled. It sounds incredibly arrogant but the fact that her alpha presence doesn't do shit to you offends her. Abby is not used to an omega who doesn't try to impress her and she knows she is being the worst fuckboy stereotype but it genuinely throws her for a loop. You just look at her like Abby is not, well, fucking Abby. Like her scent doesn't make you want to arch your back and present yourself for her. 

And listen, Abby is self-aware enough that she knows not all omegas will like her. It's just. It never happened before. And Abby also is not an idiot who will try to win you over or something - yeah, her ego was bruised but that was just how life is. 

The problem with this starts later, when you're paired for patrol. Abby is so used to being bossy and barking at everyone because omegas will listen and alphas won't dare to challenge her; she doesn't really care if she is being polite to you. 

But you care, judging by your raised eyebrows and angry looks when Abby gives you orders like you're her little soldier. 

And then Abby accidentally makes you absolutely fucking hate her, because she grabs you. She tugs you like a ragdoll to get you out of what she thought as a dangerous way, and she ends up with a knife at her throat. 

You look at her angrily and press your knife harder until she gets the hint, and Abby lets you go. 

"Do that again Anderson and I'll kill you. Don't fucking touch me like that." You growl and Abby, instead of being a normal person, frowns and gets aggressive.

"You were going to fall, idiot, I was saving you." Abby huffs and gets closer, daring you to challenge her. 

"I don't need you to save me." You growl in her face, not backing down, and Abby's eyes flash red, because omegas don't speak to her like that.

You stare back at Abby even though it's hard, standing up to an angry alpha with such suffocating presence is very fucking hard, but you're also very pissed off, so you stand your ground even though it physically hurts to defy an alpha, but you don't care about pain right now.

The stare down ends because there's a crack in the woods and you both get alert, looking around. You grab your knife tighter and Abby instinctively moves to shield you, but nothing comes out to attack you. 

So you finish your patrol in total silence. 

That's how you become easily the only omega in the stadium who doesn't like Abby Anderson. The fact that Abby is also extremely attractive and her scent is intoxicating only fuels your spite. The fact that her dick is so good there's fucking competitions to spend her rut with her only makes it worse. 

To be fair Abby looks miserable in pre-rut so you find some sympathy for her. But not after you hear another omega bragging about how good Abby is in bed. Then you're back to despising her. 

Abby's presence is something you have to train yourself to get used to, refusing to get under her influence, but it gets so much easier once you can let her stare you down across the room and be absolutely calm about it. Abby stares at you a lot, especially if she thinks you fucked up, but you stare back and don’t let her win this. It’s not even aggressive or challenging by this point and it feels like some kind of ritual between you two.

Abby, on the other hand, learns to be more nice to you. She is polite to you and she doesn't touch you again. Sometimes you can even have a normal conversation. You hate it, because Abby is not a total asshole of an alpha and you don’t have an excuse to be mean to her, even though you really want to - it’s the only barrier you have to keep yourself from falling for her. But Abby is genuinely trying and not because she wants to knot you, but because she can't stand having you in distress around her. 

For some reason Abby cares for you and your well-being, she wants you to be comfortable in her company, and yeah, this is weird and Abby’s never felt like that, but when she sees how your shoulders relax when she gets closer to cover you during patrol Abby feels like she won this life. 

Then your heat comes. It comes so fucking unexpected you have trouble breathing, panting and chocking on air as you desperately try to make your way to a safe space, because you know all too well what can happen when there's an omega in heat walking around. 

But it's so fucking hard to walk and you feel your slick coming down your thighs and everything fucking hurts because you need an alpha, so you clutch your knife and barely make it to some fucking corner to catch your breath. 

That is how Abby finds you. She caught your scent and all her senses went into overdrive because you're in heat and you're in distress and all Abby hears in her head is HelpHelpHelpMakeitgoawayHelp and she is making her way to you, her eyes are red because she can't fucking control it now, you're hurting and she needs it to go away and make it better-

You're sitting on the floor, panting, and you hold your knife right in front of your face with trembling hands because this is not happening. Abby smells like heaven and this is not happening. 

"Fuck." Abby sighs and she reacts way too hard to your scent, because your distress just got worse. "I won't hurt you, let me help." Abby pleads and you use your legs to get away from her, pushing yourself back into a corner but there's only a wall. 

"Stay the fuck away from me." You growl and clutch your knife harder. "Get the fuck away, Abby."

You're terrified and Abby can't handle it. She's never seen an omega in such a state, and her brain immediately shifts into protective mode. 

"I'm not going to touch you." But fuck she wants to. "You need to get to your room. I'll help you."

"No-no-no-no. Leave me alone." But you feel your arms grow weaker and the pain getting worse. 

"I'll make it better, okay?" Abby's eyes are red and you can hear it. You can hear it in her voice, what she is going to do and you start crying.

"Abby, no please, no. Don't do this." You plead her, but Abby gets closer to you anyway. 

"Relax." Abby says in her alpha voice and you immediately go pliant against your will. Your brain is fuzzy and you feel so much better, the thoughts are only filled with alphaalphaalpha and how good Abby smells and how good her hands feel on your waist and knees and you cling to her like she's a life line. "I'm not going to do anything. I'll carry you to your room and that's it, okay?"

"Alpha." You plead and bury your nose in her scent glands and Abby has to stop and take a breath and it only makes it worse because the air is filled with your smell. 

But then Abby is hit with your terrified teary eyes from a minute ago and she doesn't want to be someone you're so afraid of. So she carries you to your room and hopes your own place will ground you. 

Your place makes it worse for her though, because your scent is everywhere and you're still clinging to her and calling her alpha and she doesn't know what to fucking do.

So Abby does what humans do to cats: she carries to the bathroom and puts your head under the stream of cold water, which actually works and you spit curses at her.

"What the fuck!" You scream and Abby lets you go. You're sitting on your bathroom floor, wet and cold and angry, but your head feels clearer. You look up at Abby, whose eyes are red and she is so tense you see veins on her arms. You tense too: you have no idea what to expect. "Abby-"

"I won't hurt you." Abby growls and you search for your knife again. "I just. I can't leave you." 

And Abby looks almost guilty. It clicks and you feel affection overflowing your heart despite your better judgment - now that your mind is on heat leave you can't fight your feelings. Abby is so deep in protective mode she literally can't move because in her head she is a threat too - you knew it could happen, you just didn't expect it to happen to Abby. 

"Relax, alpha." You tell her to free her from it, and Abby relaxes immediately. "Now can you leave?"

Abby knows it's the right thing to do - you aren't even friends and you're vulnerable and she is a threat whether she wants it or not, but it still hurts. 

"Were you- did you really think I'd do something to you?"

"With alphas you never know." You answer vaguely and honestly? It hurts even more. Abby doesn't want to be that kind of alpha to you. 

What Abby can't stop herself from doing is sitting outside your door like a dog and guarding you during your heat. Your words really hit her and her instinct to protect you skyrocketed. 

And you know she is there, the heavy suffocating scent filling your nostrils as you desperately cling to your pillow, but Abby smells so strongly of protection it actually eases up the anxiety you have when you're alone in heat and you can't bring yourself to go up and tell her to fuck off.

(You're also afraid you'll jump Abby the moment you see her again because Abby is the best alpha you know and right now she is sitting outside your door protecting you)

(Abby sits there for three days and the way your scent is full of safe keeps her sane, makes it all worth it)

After that you awkwardly thank Abby and she awkwardly apologises for scaring you. The ice between you melts and now when you're paired for patrol it is actually fun. It's still strange to have Abby in constant protection mode, but now you find it sweet. 

Now you find her heavy scent comforting and safe and you seek it out every time you're close. Abby is no better, her head fucking snapping in your direction every time she smells you.

So the awkward courting begins. Abby cautiously attempts to care for you, scared to end up with a knife to her throat again, but you're actually way nicer to her now, taking her jacket when she offers, letting her carry things for you, letting her re-check your guns (after asking if she can). Abby feels hopeful. 

Abby asks you out, ridiculously nervous because you can reject her without a second thought, but you actually say yes. 

You go on a date and Abby barely keeps her hands off you, but she gets close enough for your scents to mix and you're not stupid, you notice it and snuggle into her side, rendering Abby speechless. 

She feels like an idiot around you. 

On the third date Abby kisses you and your scent gets immediately happy and you refuse to feel embarrassed about it because Abby smells the same. 

It'd been a month since you started dating and you notice how aggressively territorial Abby gets, how her scent gets heavier and how often her eyes become red all of a sudden. It means Abby's rut is close. 

Abby is exhausted and you do as much as you can to provide comfort for her, desperate to make her feel better. 

"Your rut is coming." 

"Yeah."

"What's the plan?"

"You don't have to spend it with me." Abby tells you, because she is afraid she'll hurt you. Alphas in rut are rough and unrelenting and Abby is not an exception. "Hell, I don't want you to, if it means you'll get hurt. Especially since-" Since you haven't had sex yet. 

You don't know why, but that is just the pace of your relationship and you're fine with it. What you're not fine with is Abby hurting. 

"I don't think you'll ever hurt me. I'd like to be there with you, if you're okay with it."

"You won't be able to stop me."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You smirk, but Abby's eyes turn red and you feel yourself getting wet. 

"Fuck, sweetheart." Abby buries her face in your neck and you shiver, because her teeth are close.

That's how you end up face down ass up on Abby's bed, getting fucked so hard you'll have bruises just from Abby's thrusts tomorrow, not counting her grip on your hips. The room is so heavy with her pheromones you're almost choking on it, your head is empty except for alphaalphaalpha breedmbitememarkme and Abby's low growling of "mine" at every thrust, her fangs scraping over your neck. 

And you think you can't take it anymore because Abby is relentless, she is rough, but then her grunts start to get louder and her pace gets sloppy - she is close and you spread your thighs because you know what's coming. 

Abby knots you and it's so fucking much, she is big enough as it is and her knot is even bigger but it makes you see stars and you scream her name. Abby growls into your ear and you can’t help but arch into her, submitting to her. 

Later, when Abby catches the break from being insanely horny, she assesses all the damage she did to you and it makes her sad - she doesn’t like the bruises on you. She gently kisses all of them as if she is apologising and you just bask in her touch and care, smelling so happy and satisfied Abby starts to feel better about it. 

Can you sit properly after Abby’s rut? No. Do you enjoy the sting of pain every time you sit? Yes. Does Abby follow you like a puppy to make sure you're okay? Yes.

Abby is still the same intimidating mean alpha but now you like it. Now you watch her stare down alphas who even dare to turn their noses in your direction and you get happy. Abby is possessive as fuck and she makes sure you always have her scent on you and you're no better, wearing her clothes just to make her wear it after you so Abby'd smell like you, but both of you don't rush with the mating bite until a year later when Abby is gently taking you apart during your heat and you sink your teeth into her shoulder.

You cry because you think Abby'll get mad at you (fuck you heat hormones for making you so sensitive, you get so embarrassed later), but Abby kisses you and tells you how happy you made her and how she can't wait to have you sober to give you your mark.

You carry Abby's bite on your inner thigh.

[microwavesaferat]

So I keep thinking about the Life Series Members as TMA Avatars idea that I had and I now have character design concepts. Slight update that Scar is now dual wielding. Also, shout-out to the person who said Gem could also be web aligned, because of this, she is now corruption aligned but themed around silverfish because they also make webs.

Bdubs - Dark

Fully avatar. Looks a bit like a phantom. Whenever it's dark, he can completely blend in and suddenly appear from the shadows. His whole thing is feeding off people who are late. Missed your last train home? Late night at work and finally heading home? God forbid you miss your bedtime. He will be there, don't keep him waiting, you're late enough already.

BigB -Spiral

Half avatar. Looks the same but it's really hard to read his expression. Small details change, like his eye colour or his facial hair. Wasn't that pocket on the other side? His whole thing is being generally unerving and instilling a sense in you that something is wrong. Even if nothing has changed, it certainly feels like it.

Cleo - Flesh

Full avatar. Her design is already perfect, no notes. I saw that one post that's like "an illegal organ dealer holding up a pair of lungs to see if they fit" and that's very much the vibe. In this au, she's not just got multiple parts because she needs to, she wants them. Who needs to paint their nails when they can just change the hand they have? I also think she has too many limbs like I already said. Every time you see her, they have a different number of limbs.

Etho - Stranger

Full avatar but kind of chill about it. Think like Simon Fairchild and Mike Crew. He looks normal, but his mask doesn't move when he speaks, is there even a mouth under there. He seems to never blink either. Basically a weird mechanical being, mind of like Nikola, but a bit more chill about it. Don't call him creepy, he's just Canadian :(

Gem - Corruption

Goes from new to full avatar over the course of Secret Life. I went into detail over her design in my original post, basically what I already said. She just gets more overgrown over the course of Secret Life. She targets those who've hurt her allies. You hurt the hive, now the queen comes to you.

Grian - Eye

Full avatar. Basically the same watcher design normally done. The more eldritch the better. Very much just a purple Jon. He does his usual shit of observing the suffering of the games.

Impulse - End

New avatar. He is not aware of the situation he's stuck in being forced to get to close to winning. As he's a new avatar, he's basically just normal. I do think that his general aura really makes people want to stab him in a back. He's just so stabible.

Jimmy - End

Half avatar. He's on his way to becoming a full avatar, just not quite got control of the curse. He has the canary wings, but kind of rotting and skeletal as the canary has already died. They get worse over time as he dies more and more. He has slowly grown more skeletal and corpse-like in general. It's almost like the damage he sustains stays through death.

Joel - Desolation

Full avatar. He's chill until near the end of the season where he suddenly gets this manic look and just sort of snaps. He doesn't melt like Jude does, but is charred in places where he's also caught ablaze. He doesn't have a specific target, it's just everyone but only near the end of the series.

Lizzie - Buried

New avatar. She doesn't seem to realise where all the dirt is coming from, someone keeps traipsing mud into the house and it's definitely not her! No way she would have muddy boots inside. As well as that, every time she looks at the stars, her throat seems to catch. Joel is sick of the ever growing donations he keeps getting of his wife's remains, there's only so many urns he can hold. To be fair, he's pretty sure Scar just sold him gravel.

Martyn - Hunt

Half in 3rd Life but full avatar by Limited Life. He's like how Martin in tma could have become an eye or web avatar but instead became a lonely avatar. Martyn could have become a slaughter avatar with Ren or an eye avatar. They end of Limited Life is him becoming a full avatar. He's stuck with a ring cuts round his head constantly dripping into his eyes, weirdly in the same shape the coral sat. He also has red marks on his hands from wielding an axe in 3rd Life. He mainly goes for those who want to break the system. There is only one way out, and it's through blood.

Mumbo - Web

New avatar. Has no idea he's an avatar or what they even are. Everyone else assumes he knows. He keeps finding cobwebs in his hair, it's getting concerning. What do you mean he's greying? Why do the lighter hairs in his mustache feel like a different material? Eventually, he gains a set of eyes and doesn't notice for a ridiculously long time before he has to get his reading glasses for working with redstone. The web will do with him what it desires, and the Mother of Puppets wishes to see the blorbo struggle.

Pearl - Hunt/Lonely

Half avatar. She not fully committed to either fear so is like a half avatar in both. She seems to exude fog like Martin but in a way that makes her more obvious, like a dark silhouette against a grey background. As well as that, her red eyes and they dozen or so dogs' eyes can be seen so clearly, almost as if there are no clouds at all. Tilly is the name of the form she takes like Daisy does. She targets those who have isolated her. She is not to be ignored any longer.

Ren - Slaughter

Half avatar. He's done the opposite of Martyn and is trying to force himself away from the mantle of Red King. Kind of how Jon tries to stop feeding the eye, Ren tries to be more peaceful and doesn't even partake in some games. Regardless, the call of blood is too strong. He looks normal most of the time, but, when things go south, his neck starts leaking a deep crimson. The canine features grow and so does the accent. Ren can try to stop it all he wants, but the Red Winter is coming.

Scar - Web/Lonely

Full avatar. Scar is a full avatar with both fears. He has been full web the entire time but only because fullomelu after double life. He has the appearance of a straveling salesman someone always having just what you require. You have to be in his good books, you don't know why, but you must. In this au, he has a wheelchair with seemingly infinite storage. Regardless of what you say, he's "got just the right thing" as he reaches into another pocket. There are 8 spokes on each wheel, each spoke weirdly hairy and almost segmented? Regardless, he has what you need, so you pay up, issue is, by the time you put your wallet away, all that's left is some fog.

Scott - Vast

Half avatar. The vast has been trying real hard to transform him, but he just won't go. He keeps walking up to the edges of cliffs or the shore, looking out wistfully into the expanse, before going "nah" and walking away. It's almost like he's taunting his patron. He likes to keep to cramped spaces, just to spite them. Regardless, he seems to stare at the night sky, almost like he's looking for something, or waiting.

Skizz - Lonely

New avatar. Skizz? An avatar of the lonely? But he's got loads of pals. How could he be lonely? He's useful to everyone, he serves his purpose, they don't grieve because he wouldn't want that, right? He's an absolute angel. His design is still angelic, but with gold tear tracks down his face. He's unwilling to admit that being treated as expendable has gotten to him. It's fine, the fog of death is calm, it doesn't ask anything of him, it's... Peaceful.

Tango - Desolation

Full avatar. Not much changes from his design. The usual fire hair that gets stronger with the anger. He fully transformed in Last Life when Bdubs killed him. Up until then, the hair was just regular hair, but that death changed him. He's not immune to the fire. The more he burns, the more how almost looks like a roast marshmallow but I'm a creepy way. He's charged and melting and angry. So so angry. If you take something from him, he will take everything from you.

[fourmoony]

hi, I just wanted to let you know that reading your writing brings me so much comfort and joy. Today, I found out that the person I’ve liked for the longest time has a girlfriend, and it’s been hard to say the least. It also didn’t help that I read an unrequited love blurb featuring remus as soon as I got home 😭 I was just wondering if you’d be willing to write something where the reader assumes that remus doesn’t like her because he seems aloof, but is actually just nervous because he likes her so much. I am so appreciative of you and your beautiful work, as always 🤍

this made me tear up. your words are so kind, and are the push i needed this week to keep writing <3 never in a million years did i think anyone would think this about my writing. thank you.

i'm sorry to hear about your crush; unrequited love is a tricky and heavy feeling. i have no doubt you'll find your person, though. as someone who's had my fair share of heartache, i promise, it won't hurt forever. my friends think i'm crazy because my advice is always to just let it hurt. but one day you'll wake up and you'll have run out of hurt. and you won't even remember what you saw in them, anymore. sending love.

P.S. i suck at writing shy remus so this is more like silent, unreadable remus. idk i'm tired. hope this is okay!

---

remus lupin x f!reader - masterlist 1.2k words

cw - implied self esteem issues, smoking, drinking

Remus' thumping steps carry up the staircase only seconds after you call on him. You're facing the mirror when he arrives in the doorway, hair clasped to the side in one hand, and the other reaching aimlessly for the zip half way down the back of your dress. His eyes find yours over your shoulder in the reflection, a fond smile passing over his features when he steps through the threshold into your room.

"You look lovely." He comments, voice warm and smooth in the way that it always is.

Warm Remus, smooth Remus, so fond and kind, feels like home and everything familiar. His fingers are warm as he tugs gently at the zip, one hand placed on your shoulder for leverage. His touch is gentle, like he's afraid he might break you, and it lingers for only a moment when he's done. You swallow around the lump of want in your throat, the want for it to have lasted longer, the want for him to touch you and have it mean something. It doesn't do any good to want. Because you can't have, and you've had to deal with becoming okay with that fact.

"Thanks, Rem."

He nods, lips curled in on themselves like he wants to say something, a look in his eyes you've never been able to read. He says nothing, and he retreats with the promise to wait on you with the others in the living room. Remus does that a lot - refrains from the things he wants to say, stops himself short. You wish he wouldn't.

You're always wishing, wishing, wishing.

He keeps true to his word. Remus is waiting in the living room with Sirius, James, and a rather flustered looking Frank when you descend the staircase. It's only now you realise how lovely Remus looks in his suit. Partly because of how Sirius is wearing his - like he had a fight with it and lost. Remus stands when you appear, as if on instinct, and takes a step forwards. You smile, eyes catching on Frank who's looking at the clock like it's stealing time from before his very eyes. You suppose, in a way, it is.

"You okay?" You feel the need to ask, hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Frank looks alarmed by your question, a grimace on his face, "She's going to be there, isn't she? She's not going to, like, do a runner? Have you spoke to her today?"

James huffs a laugh, pats Frank on the shoulder rather heavily. The whiskey in his crystal tumbler splashes over the side and onto the rug. "Last I heard, Mary and Marlene had her pinned down in the make up chair, she tried, but they wouldn't let her."

Sirius barks a laugh. Frank scowls. He knows you're kidding. Alice Fortescue has been absolutely smitten for Frank Longbottom since she was thirteen. There's absolutely nothing that could stop her from walking down that aisle, today. Frank knows that as well as you do.

"Not helping." James decides, passes Frank a cigarette.

He mumbles something about not wanting to smoke inside and makes for the door. Remus gives James and Remus a pointed look, "Better make sure he doesn't do a runner, yeah?"

They're quick out the door like they actually believe Frank would ever do something like that. The only place he'd ever run to is Alice. And she'd have his balls for seeing her in her wedding dress before the ceremony. Remus gives you a familiar smile, a knowing smile, a smile he saves for you and you only. It feels like he's in on something you aren't when he smiles like that. Heat crawls up your neck, flowers wrap their way around you rib cage.

"You scrub up well, you know." Is all you manage to say, rather breathless.

Remus rolls his eyes, "I try."

A minute of amused silence, Remus passes you the glass of wine in his hand. The glass is warm from being in his clutch, but you drink from it anyway.

"I thought after the catering disaster this wedding wasn't going to happen." Remus admits, looking out of the living room window at where Frank paces the length of the front path, working his way through his second cigarette. Alice will have your head for allowing such a thing.

You hum a disagreement, eyes roaming Remus' face, it's so soft, so beautifully shaped. You've no idea why he hates his scars so much. They only outline his best qualities. The one over the bridge of his perfectly sloped nose, the one under his beautiful amber eyes, the one along his sharp cheekbones, and your favourite one: the one across his cupids bow, defining his soft, pink lips. It's a shame, really, that Remus Lupin thinks so little of himself. You'd give him the world should he only ask.

"I think nothing can stop a love like that," You murmur, soft and quiet, voice thick with something, "Not even a shoddy caterer."

Remus' eyes leave the front garden, meet with yours in a way that always makes heat explode in your chest. He's too much to look at, sometimes. It physically hurts.

"You always have such a positive outlook on life."

You laugh, shoulders shrugging, "Suppose it's habit."

"From?"

"Keeping you miserable lot from giving up all together?" You offer, smiling over the rim of your wine glass.

Remus laughs, genuine and unashamed. "Tell you what, at our wedding, I promise to be the one keeping everything together, how about that?"

He seems to flinch after that, like he's physically pained by the words coming out of his mouth. You flinch, too. The flowers around your rib cage wilt and pull tighter all in one go, a frown pulling at your lips.

"I wasn't aware we were getting married."

Remus smiles like he's in pain, "Yeah, well, step one would actually be asking you on a date, but I'm a right twat who's mucked all that up."

There's something self deprecating about him. You don't like it. Remus Lupin deserves the world. You'll give him the world. You didn't think he wanted that from you, though. But you smile, gentle and sweet in a way you hope he'll like. It feels like something shifts. Maybe the stars begin to write a story about you both. Maybe the sun stops it's rotation just for a second to watch you both.

The wedding car pulls up outside and Remus, seemingly eager to back away from the situation he's created, slams his own drink down on the table and makes for the door.

"Remus," You call after him, he turns, "I'd marry you."

You offer him a lopsided smile. His eyes search your face for any sign of a joke. He finds none. You hope he understands what you mean.

"How about a date first?" He asks.

You release a breath, a laugh, a smile. It feels like you're floating.

"Sure, yeah. That first."

The front door swings open and Sirius barges his way past Remus, panicked and disheveled, "I've lost the fucking rings!"

Remus sighs, hand in his pocket, hands Sirius the red velvet box, "Here."

You're laughing all the way down the path, shoulder brushing Remus', the start of something new.

[brucewaynehater101]

"It's A Wonderful Life" AU with Tim and Jason

I only know the very basic premise of this movie, so we're going off of that.

Tw: death, suicide, violence

This could be a Titan's Tower AU, but I do think this could be a bit more fun after the BruceQuest.

Tim, who's had his support systems (even the JL ripped from him) and is seething in paranoia, gets cornered by Red Hood. The last time he saw Jason alone, he got a batarang to the chest (Battle of the Cowl). Tim has no reason to suspect this interaction will be friendly.

Red Robin is geared up for a fight. Red Hood has his hands up in surrender and far away from his hip holsters. It's not exactly reassuring (Jason can probably whip out his pistols in the same amount of time it takes Tim to grab a birdarang), but it does communicate that Jason isn't looking for a fight. Tim, who's one mental breakdown away from taking over Lex Corp for the hell of it, doesn't see this as a good sign. Why would Jason, the original Cain instinct, want to talk "peacefully" with his Placeholder? What's the aim?

Jason kind of just wants to apologize and is low-key concerned with how he's so isolated from everyone. He doesn't truly care about Tim, and he doesn't think it's his place/right/ability to be the support for the kid, but he can at least say sorry. Tim doesn't need to accept it, but he deserves the acknowledgement that it was indeed fucked up and not Tim's fault in the slightest. It's not much, especially with the scar on Tim's throat and the trauma, but it's a start. He still holds some resentment for the kid, but he's starting to learn that's more Jason and Bruce's fault than Tim's.

The conversation doesn't go great. Maybe Tim is being defensive and an asshole (which is fair since Jason's attacked him twice at least). Jason gets a little upset over this and snaps back (which is not what he's trying to do and counterproductive).

They get interrupted by this magician that sighs. They explain how fucking exhausting it is hearing them continue to misunderstand each other so they will show them what the world was like if Tim was never born.

Cue something similar to the movie I described. I haven't seen it, so here's what I think happens in that movie combined with this AU.

Tim and Jason stumble around Gotham at the current date in this alternative universe.

It's hell. They constantly run into crime on every corner, and there's no order.

They find out that Bruce had died within a year of Jason dying. Gotham fell to shambles due to Batman's declining reputation at that point. They had no hope and were hostile to any heroes that tried to help (due to the last hero they had turning on them). Gotham was eventually abandoned by the US government.

With his death, people found out Bruce Wayne was Batman. This causes Alfred to be sent to jail, and Dick could never return to Gotham. Dick only survived due to the Titan's refusing to let him destroy himself. He's still not okay.

Damian never came to Gotham cause Bruce had died. He's still set to become Ra's vessel, and no one (like Dick, the JL, Jason, etc) knows about this plot.

Jim Gordon was killed, and Barbara had to move out of Gotham.

Steph joined Helena for a bit. They made a kickass team, but they didn't survive to the current day.

Duke and his family moved out of Gotham before the gates closed, but he lost his parents in the escape.

Cass was never taught language.

Jason killed the Joker and then himself.

Anyways, Gotham goes to shit and Bruce kills himself on patrol (let's himself be hit and doesn't give himself needed rest). That's the basics of what they learned in this alternative universe.

This causes Tim to feel a bit better about all the sacrifices he made. He was vital and important to the Bats. He did good. He was necessary. It doesn't erase all the pain and hurt, but it boosts his self-esteem just a small bit.

Jason didn't realize the extent of what Tim did for them. He didn't realize the impact of Tim's decision and how he saved everyone. The two of them part, and Jason starts to uncover all the sacrifices the teen made.

Tw: suicide

If you want extra angst, maybe the magician reveals that Tim was planning to kill himself before he saw that Bruce needed him (thus the world is what happened if Tim went through with his OG plan). Tim has severely unhealthy coping mechanisms now, but his tendency to help people allows himself to feel needed. Lots to unpack there.

[stickytrigger69]

ooo could we get a thing with subby tfp starscream being kind of a brat with a mech reader? i imagine his wings are sensitive, so reader rubs them while he teases his spike at screamer’s entrance, that kinda thing,,, throw a “good boy” in there too please? thank you!!!

TFP Starscream x Mech Reader

Mech reader

Submissive Starscream, Dominant Reader

NSFW, minors dni

(A/N) I accidentally posted before I even started, so I did start it but then my phone turned off and lost all of the fucking progress, I feel like that picture of pepe pulling at his eyelids. (yes I wrote it all while at work)

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

"The audacity! How dare he!" Staracream grumbles, pacing back and forth like a caged mechanimal, "He can't do that to me, be that way with ME?! of all mechs on the ship." His small servos wave around in the air, the even smaller object in his servo makes you a little nervous. You've been watching him for the past 5 minutes, at the least, trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself in the middle of his hissy fit.

"Darling?" You try getting his attention.

"I'm his most valuable, his second hand mech." He stomps past you, then turns on his heel to go back around.

"Darling, sweetspark." You speak softly and affectionately, you know hes frustrated so you're treading as lightly as possible.

"Ugghhh, it's not fair!!" He cries and turns to face you, throwing the object in your direction. Without thinking, you swat it away before it can touch you, and within seconds, you're standing in front of him, his wrist in your large servo. "Ah, let go of me!" He starts pulling against you, but you don't budge.

"No, you're misbehaving." You say simply, looking at him voidly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw it at you, I'm just so-" He scrambles to apologize.

"Frustrated, I know darling, but," you grab his chin and make him look in your optics, "That's no excuse for your bad behavior. I think you need to be punished." You peck his derma gently. He shivers, and that's all you need to begin picking him up and pulling him flush to your frame. A deep kiss has him relax, and a smack to his faceplate alerts him again of the trouble he's in.

"But I..." You shush him, making him gasp and swallow his words.

"If you're a good boy, I'll be nice." You promise, which makes his optics sparkle almost. "Will you be a good boy for me?" He nods. "Then show me, baby." You set him down, and without another word or thought, he gets on his knees and prods gently at your panel until it opens. Your spike has begun to pressurize, but not completely, so when he starts touching you and licking and sucking and nipping at it, the brighter the biolights glow, and the bigger it pressurizes. You let him do his job until you hear his panel pop as well. "Alright, come here."

He stands in front of you for a deep kiss. You start fiddling with his wings, rubbing and circling the bumps and crevices, occasionally making him moan into your mouth. He grinds his hips forward, valve aching for your spike and dripping with sweet fluid. "Please." He pleads between a kiss

"Please, what baby boy?" You ask, tugging and pinching lightly at his sensitive wings.

With a moan, he answers breathlessly, "Frag me already, please, Daddy." He grinds his hips into the air again. With one thought in your processor, you lay him on the berth. His servos hold onto your neck, playing with the cables while you stare at him. Admiring your beautiful mate. With a servo on the side of his faceplate and the other on his wing, you start prodding the head of your spike at his entrance.

"You're so beautiful, my good boy." With a sweet kiss, you thrust fast and hard into his tight valve. He moans into the kiss again, this time louder. "Good boy." You sit up on your knees and look down at him. He already looks spent, but there's so much more ahead of him. Your left servo takes hold of his throat, and you start pounding unto his valve. He holds his legs up for you like you've taught him. "Such a good boy." You grunt and groan into the air. His valve is so tight and wet.

After a few hours of non-stop fragging, you sit at the edge of the berth, Starscream lying in the middle of it, sprawled out. Transfluid pooling out from his valve. You're reading more mission briefs. At least you had the chance to clear your processor before you had work to do. You stand, stretch, and sigh. You look down at your lover, so soft and sweet, misunderstood and mistreated. It makes your tanks churn and spark ignite.

Starscream wakes up to incessant pings. He sits up clean and refreshed, oh he needed that spike more than he thought, but the more he thinks, the more he wants. His panel pops open again, "Scrap!"

[weirdsht]

Queasy - Choi Han/Reader

a/n: inspired by me being the most easily nauseated person I know. Actually, idk if nauseated is the right term, we call it "naduduwal" in the Philippines and when I used google translate it said that the translation is nauseous. Anyways, this may or may not be inspired by actual scenarios in my life...

tags: self-indulgent, 5 + 1 fic, female reader, fluff, descriptive signs of vomiting, but there's no actual vomiting, author went a bit overboard?

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Ever since [Name] was a child she easily felt nauseous. The slightest change of smell can make her feel as though a bile is coming up her throat. Whatever she ate last threatened to come back up.

Living with it for all her life made her used to it. That was why she forgot to inform her new group of friends about her “condition”.

Which brings everyone to this predicament…

Beacrox was cooking lunch for everyone. The kitchen door was open as the thing his cooking had too much smoke. It smelled good. In fact, everyone couldn’t wait to eat. They were already imagining what could the chef be possibly making.

Until [Name] walked into the room.

When she first walked in everything seemed normal. They even looked happy as there was a pep in their step. However, that changed as soon as they smelled the aroma of the food being cooked.

[Name] staggered a little, but quickly composed herself. She could feel that familiar feeling something trying to crawl up her throat. But she knew that it was nothing alarming so she swallowed it down and greeted everyone.

“Are you okay..?”

Choi Han inquired hesitantly, his hands supporting [Name]’s back. The woman gathered herself fast enough that no one else noticed. It’s just that nothing escapes past the swordmaster’s observant eyes.

…Well at least nothing about [Name] can escape past Choi Han’s eyes.

“I’m fine. The sudden change of smell just surprised me.”

“Are you sure?”

Choi Han doesn't look convinced in the slightest.

“Positive. In fact, it smells good. I can’t wait to see what Beacrox made!”

After that day [Name] could feel Choi Han’s concerned gaze whenever the smell of food was up in the air.

The next time it happened it probably would have costed [Name] her life if it wasn’t for Choi Han. Which was comedic considering the culprit…

+~+~+~+~+~+

A sneeze.

Yes, a sneeze almost took out [Name]. A single sneeze made her vulnerable to the enemies' attacks.

They were fighting, another typical day of bringing Cale’s crazy plans to life. Everything was going well, they had the upper hand. The enemy was on [Name]’s mercy.

Achoo!

Well, it was until she sneezed.

It would have been fine if it was just a normal sneeze.

Bleur–

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

[Name] staggered as she put her left hand on her mouth, her right hand trying to hold onto something to stabilize herself. Her momentarily loss of balance made her vulnerable to the enemies' attacks.

She honestly thought that would be her end. If it wasn’t then she would at least sustain some grave injuries.

THUD!

Black aura surrounded the area [Name] was fighting on. The sword of the owner of the said aura fighting against the enemies trying to hurt her.

The aide surprised [Name]. Because she swears just a millisecond ago Choi Han was fighting his fair share of enemies on the other side of the battlefield. Then as if he has a [Name] 6th sense, he almost teleported to where she was as soon as she started staggering.

Choi Han encircled his free arm around [Name]’s waist. He gently lifted her off the ground as he started to move around to fight the enemies.

It looked as if they were dancing instead of fighting. The two are facing each other chest to chest, [Name]’s feet are completely off the ground making Choi Han lead the sway. They looked as though they were presenting a bloody waltz. It would have been a sight to behold if it wasn’t a matter of life or death.

[Name] and Choi Han went on like that until none of the enemies were left alive. The swordmaster refuses to let her down despite her protests.

Later on, when Cale asked what happened, [Name] answered honestly about how her sneeze was the cause of everything. Choi Han was of course within hearing range when this conversation happened.

Since then the swordmaster made sure to keep anti-allergen medicine in his pocket at all times.

Cale’s group seldom get days off. It wasn’t because their young master was working them to the bone. In fact, his always the first one to suggest the idea of slacking off for a few hours. Rather, it’s just that everyone always keeps themselves occupied. Even when it’s a supposed “free day” everyone will be busy, either training or researching something.

+~+~+~+~+~+

That was why this stroll [Name] is doing in town isn’t because she had the day off. She’s actually strolling the busy streets in order to spread another rumour, Cale’s orders of course.

But she can’t help but admit that this task is more leisurely compared to their usual missions.

Which was why she decided to take it easy and enjoy her rare outing.

As usual, with her is Choi Han. The rumours don’t need lying so he was up for the task. He had been paired with [Name] to ensure he wouldn’t go overboard.

“Let’s go check out that stall! It didn’t exist when I went here last week!”

[Name] pulled the swordmaster behind her, trying to drag him over to the new stall that seemed to sell all kinds of trinkets.

Choi Han let himself be dragged by her. A smile grazed his lips at how happy she looked.

Just like that, the two continued to spread rumours while enjoying themself around town. Choi Han’s previously empty hands are now filled with bags containing souvenirs for everyone left at home.

“We should’ve brought a spacial bag–”

Keugh!

[Name] felt nauseous once more. There wasn’t even a trigger this time. No smell, no sudden movements. Nothing. Her body made her nauseous just because it could.

“Let’s get you home now.”

Choi Han, a little more used to her body’s antics now, placed himself in front of her in order to catch her. It was the next best thing he could do since his arms were currently unavailable. As expected, [Name] landed on his chest. Her hands latching themselves onto his shirt to keep herself from falling.

“…Yeah I guess that’s enough chatting with the townspeople. I’m sure everyone knows us by now.”

Next time [Name] felt nauseous Choi Han wasn’t there to help her. In fact, there were no adult figures as she was the adult for the day.

+~+~+~+~+~+

That’s right, she was with the children averaging 8 years old.

Everyone had something to do and they were in a foreign kingdom. Hence why [Name] decided to take the kids out to eat. After all, it’s not every day they would be able to taste these foreign dishes. Unless they manage to snag the recipe and bring it back to Beacrox.

“Try this [Name]!”

“You have to taste this nya!”

“This one is delicious too nya! Try it! Try it!”

[Name] had rented out a private room so the children could eat freely. One of the consequences of that was them pushing her to eat everything they deemed delicious. Which was practically the entire menu of the restaurant.

After a while [Name] could feel herself becoming full. She was aware that she should stop eating or else she’d feel nauseous again.

But she didn’t have the heart to deny the kids feeding her a bunch of food. They just wanted to share the joy of eating something delicious with her.

And so she pushed her limits. She couldn’t say no when those three pairs of adorable eyes looked at her expectantly.

Fortunately, Cale and Choi Han soon arrived.

As they entered the room the kids ran over to Cale, ready to feed him everything they made [Name] taste.

Simultaneously, Choi Han took it as a chance to check on [Name]. As soon as the door opened he noticed how pale she looked.

“You alright?”

He whispered as he sat beside her. His fingers rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“Yeah, just peachy. I just got carried away and ate too much”

She whispered back as she leaned on his arm.

“Sure? Maybe you accidentally ate something bad for your stomach…”

“I’m sure. I simply couldn’t say no to the kids.”

Choi Han chuckled slightly, understanding where [Name] was coming from.

“Try not to let them sway you next time.”

He halfheartedly suggested knowing that [Name] would probably do it again if it was for the kids.

“Hahahaha! Did you see the young master’s face!? It was hilarious!”

+~+~+~+~+~+

[Name] laughed as she recalled how the awards ceremony went down. She didn’t expect the crown prince to pull off such a thing. Beside her was Choi Han who was smiling. He didn’t fully comprehend why she found the earlier scene funny but as long as she was happy

“Who needs to go watch opera when you have that–“

There comes the nausea from laughing too much. [Name] instinctively grabbed on Choi Han’s arm. Her grabbing onto him seemed to be the drill as of late whenever she felt nauseous.

“Karma”

Cale grumbled as he walked past them while holding onto a plate of cake. He clearly heard how [Name] was laughing hard at him.

In the midst of [Name] almost throwing up her lunch she still found joy in the situation. The young master was quite cute when his upset after realising he got “scammed”.

And so another wave of laughter escaped past her lips.

“Stop laughing, you’ll feel worse.”

Choi Han clicked his tongue as he scolded the woman leaning on his arms. However, that said woman couldn’t control her laughter. Everything was just too funny.

Giving up, the swordmaster merely supported her weight. He waited for her to feel weak by either laughing too much or feeling even more nauseous.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

+~+~+~+~+~+

This time that desperate time is Choi Han feeling uncomfortable while dealing with a bunch of nobles. He had his fair share of interaction with them but it still felt unusual. Even more so when they surround him, just like right now.

In the midst of him trying to escape from everyone and seriously considering knocking them all unconscious, a familiar figure managed to stagger into his arms.

That familiar figure looked weak. The back of her hand was covering her mouth in an attempt to not vomit.

Of course, that familiar figure was [Name].

Choi Han easily caught her in his arms as she staggered towards him. Once she felt she was safe, she rested her head on his chest.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

Choi Han bowed towards the crowd before hooking his arms underneath [Name]’s legs. The nobles understood his intentions and finally created a path he could go through. Everyone is aware of how [Name], like Cale, seems to also have a weak constitution.

The swordmaster thanked them as he carried [Name] out of there. He walked until they arrived at a gazebo in the garden.

He sat down on the bench-like chair inside the gazebo, placing [Name] on his lap. Choi Han scanned her body to make sure nothing else was wrong before asking his questions.

“Did you push yourself again? Was it the crowd this time? Were they too much?”

Concern lingered in his eyes, but [Name] simply giggled at him.

“I’m fine, I was faking it.”

“Why..?”

The swordmaster is no stranger to his friends acting all sorts of roles to get what they want. However, this time he can’t fathom why [Name] would do such a thing.

“You looked uncomfortable silly. Is that a way to thank your saviour?“

[Name] jokingly asked him, flexing her muscles as if she just saved him from a gruesome battle.

“I guess you’re the knight in shining armour today huh?”

Choi Han played along to her whims. His hold on her waist tightened ever so gently to ensure she wouldn’t fall off his lap for she was moving too much.

That afternoon, the two spent their time talking about all sorts of topics inside the gazebo until they had to reluctantly go back inside once more.

[xoxo-ives]

turning saints into the sea

earrings, jealousy, and hot cocoa

or, tim doesn't like how well reader gets on with his brother

wc: 2119

(title from 'mr brightside' by the killers)

You glance down at your phone as it buzzes, a laugh bubbling up in your throat at the text. You type a response quickly, watching as the little bubble that indicates the other person is typing appears on the screen. When the message comes through, you grin down at your phone. Tim glances at you from across the table, spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth.

“Thought the rule was no phones when we’re eating,” he says drily, not wanting to make it an issue but a little annoyed that you aren’t following the rule you proposed. “I distinctly remember you saying something about ‘quality time’ or whatever.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, typing something and putting your phone down. It buzzes again, and your eyes flick to it, but you leave it on the table and return to your own bowl of cereal.

“So, who’s got you smiling like that at six in the morning?” Tim asks, words tinged with a shade of bitterness, though you barely notice.

“Uh…just a friend,” you say cagily. Tim gives you a deadpan look, and you sigh. “Fine. Your brother.”

“What?” he says, eyes wide. “You’re texting my brother at six in the morning? Instead of talking to me?”

“In my defense, you’re kind of a bitch in the morning,” you mutter.

“Oh my God, you hate me,” he says, pouting and feigning hurt. “You hate me so much.”

“You’re such a baby,” you laugh. “I’m allowed to have other friends.”

“Yeah. Friends who aren’t Dick Grayson,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “You can’t be friends with him. You’re already my best friend, he can’t have you. Tell him he has to find a new friend.”

“I’m not doing that,” you laugh. “You tell him, if you care that much.”

“Fine, maybe I will.”

Your phone buzzes again when you’re walking home from class, and you glance down at it and smile. 

Tell me why I just got a text from Tim yelling at me for stealing you away from him?

Of course he’d actually done it. You thought it was just a joke, but Tim was actually upset that you’re friends with Dick. He’s nothing if not dramatic, and he’s a sucker for attention. 

He’s being stupid. Ignore him.

I would, except he threatened to break my nose.

He’s like five foot six. You could totally kick his ass. I’ll talk to him.

When you get back to your apartment, you find Tim on the couch, working on his laptop. You stand in front of him, pushing it closed when he doesn’t look up at you. He closes his eyes, sighs deeply, and glances up.

“You’d better hope my laptop doesn��t disconnect from the internet, because I’ve been working on that document for two hours and nothing is saved,” he says, annoyed.

“First of all, use the save button. It’s on your computer for a reason. Second, why did you tell Dick you’d break his nose if he didn’t stop talking to me?” Tim has the decency to look sheepish, averting his eyes.

“Oh, he told you about that? You, uh…you weren’t supposed to know.”

“I have a life outside of this apartment, you know. I have other friends. And it’s not fair for you to tell me I can’t.” Tim sighs.

“Yeah, but…come on. Dick? Really?”

“What, are you jealous?” you ask. He says nothing, looking away again. “You are, aren’t you? You’re jealous that I have other friends. You’re still my favorite Robin, don’t worry.”

“You promise?” he says, voice small. He almost seems vulnerable now, as if this means a lot more to him than he’s letting on.

“Timothy. We live together. You’ve been my best friend since the sixth grade. I’ve been more than friendly with you. You’re definitely my favorite,” you say, kissing his cheek. “Besides, you’re the only one who buys me that ice cream I really like, so you have to be my favorite.”

“Really?” he laughs. “That’s how I won you over? Ice cream? Not the fact that I’ve been your best friend for eight years? Not the fact that I protect the city? Not the fact that I always come to walk you home from your evening classes so that you’re not out alone after the sunset? I didn’t realize you were so shallow.”

“Shallow and I mother you and I’m clingy,” you add, nudging him with a grin.

“Mmhmm. You try too hard to take care of me.”

“And you like it, even though you’re a liar and you won’t admit it.”

“Hey,” Dick says, poking your shoulder. “Pay attention to me.”

“I’m working on something,” you mumble, not looking up from what you’re writing. “Give me five minutes.”

“That’s what you said a half hour ago,” he groans. “You’re not giving me adequate attention.”

“You’re so needy,” you laugh. “Tim isn’t like this.” You set your pen down, pushing the paper aside and taking a sip of your coffee. The cafe you’re sitting in is quiet, and it’s a nice change of pace from hiding in a chair in the corner of the student union. “What do you want?”

“Do you want to come with me to a charity event Bruce is having on Friday night?” 

You pause. You hadn’t known there was an event this week. You usually go with Tim, who hasn’t mentioned anything yet. What’s the harm, you think. Just this once. Tim will survive. 

“Sure,” you say. “Should I wear a specific color? So that we match? Tim likes to color-coordinate, so…”

“Blue is good. You know, you talk about Tim an awful lot,” he says, smiling knowingly.

“I mean, he’s my roommate. I see him a lot. of course I talk about him.”

“Uh-huh,” Dick says. It’s clear he doesn’t believe you, but he isn’t going to call you out on it. “I’ll pick you up around six?”

“Six is fine. Now, seriously, I’ve gotta get this work done.”

Quarter to six on Friday afternoon rolls around, and suddenly, you’re rushing around the apartment, trying very hard not to trip in your heels and dress, looking for a pair of earrings. Tim comes in the door and stops halfway across the living room.

“Um…hi. You good?” he asks, frowning.

“Yeah, just looking for my earrings. You know the silver ones with the butterflies?” You don’t look up, still rifling through drawers.

“Your gala earrings? What do you need those for? I’m not going to the event tonight.”

“Oh. Um. I assumed you were going.”

“No, I told Bruce I wouldn’t be there. I wanted to spend the evening with you. Since we’ve both been so busy.”

And without meaning to or realizing it, Tim has made you feel like the worst person in the world. Of course the one time you agree to go without him is the one time he’s canceled to spend time with you. But you can’t bail on Dick, not at the last minute. And so you find yourself facing Tim, tongue between your teeth, face burning.

“I actually…have plans tonight?” you say hesitantly.

“Plans that you need your fancy earrings for?”

“Well, see…I initially thought you’d be at the gala, and I kind of…am going?”

“You’re going. Without me. Alone? If you’re going alone, just cancel. Bruce won’t care,” Tim says easily.

“That’s kind of the problem. I’m not…going alone,” you mumble. The situation is already awkward, and is only going to get worse if Tim asks, as he inevitably will, who you’re going with.

“You have a date. Who’s your date?”

At the moment he asks, like some parody of being saved by the bell, there’s a knock on the door. Tim gives you a look and opens it, jaw twitching when he sees who it is. He steps back, opening the door all the way.

“She’s over there,” he grits out, gesturing to you standing in the living room. Dick steps inside, beaming at you, and you smile back weakly. You finally find your earrings, putting them on, and you check your reflection in the microwave quickly. Tim is glaring at you, but you’re ignoring him.

“I’ll be back…some time tonight,” you say. “Whenever the gala’s over. You don’t have to wait up.”

You don’t get an answer, but you weren’t expecting one. You slip your arm into Dick’s, walking with him down to his car. You see the car, and you sigh, looking over at him.

“You know Tim is watching us from the window. You knew he’d do that. And this is the car you brought?”

It’s a car you’ve seen at many a gala, a car you’ve seen around the manor. It’s a dark gray, flashy, and, like most of what Dick Grayson owns, expensive. He grins, clearly knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“I can’t say I know what you mean. This is just my car.”

“Richard,” you say flatly. “You’re not stupid. You know how this is going to look to Tim. You really want to tell me you’re innocent in this?”

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m trying to rile him up a little. But I have a plan, just trust me.”

“Care to enlighten me? I don’t like you messing with my life.” Dick rolls his eyes, putting an arm around your shoulders and walking you to the passenger side of the car. He looks up at the window, making eye contact with Tim and winking at him. When he gets into the car, he looks over at you with a smug expression.

“Trust me,” he repeats. “I have a plan.”

The event itself is predictable. It’s the same as every other charity event that you’ve been to, except people keep looking at you. You suppose it’s a side effect of being there with Gotham’s favorite bachelor, but it’s off putting. You’re used to sitting with Tim, drinking sparkling grape juice because Bruce won’t let you anywhere near the champagne, laughing at the stuffy rich people. 

Now all of a sudden, you’re expected to be one of the stuffy rich people, following around after Dick and charming people whose closets are the size of your bedroom. By the time the event is over, you’re exhausted and frustrated, eager to go home. You get in the car and tilt your face up to the roof, sighing heavily.

“That was awful,” you say. “How do you do that every time?” Dick just laughs, still looking completely put together and awake. He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. I guess you get used to it when everyone wants to talk to you at these kinds of things.”

“I have so much more respect for you now. Like, actual respect.”

“You saying you didn't respect me before?” he teases.

“That is absolutely what I’m saying, yes. Can you take me home please?”

He drives you back to your apartment, offering to walk you up. You decline, knowing Tim is likely sitting in the kitchen, brooding, and bringing Dick in will only stir the pot. You climb the stairs slowly, wanting to buy yourself some time. You put the key in the lock, and the door swings open from the inside. Tim is standing there, blue eyes sharp, a question on his lips. Did you enjoy it more than you would have with me?

“Hi,” you say quietly. “Have a good night?”

“No,” Tim answers bluntly. “I had nothing to do.”

“If it’s any consolation, my night was also shit. I never realized how many people want to talk to Dick at those events. I think I met more people tonight than I have in the entire rest of my life.”

“Yeah, Gotham’s most eligible bachelor,” Tim says bitterly. “Pretty face and more money than he knows what to do with.”

“Yeah. Um…you know it wasn’t, like, a date, right? Like, Dick and I just went as friends?” you say. “He’s not stealing your best friend or anything. And I’d never do that to you. Family is off-limits. And he’s like my older brother, honestly.”

Tim doesn’t say anything, but the harsh lines of his face seem to soften a bit. He makes a small sound that borders suspiciously on a harrumph and turns away. You sigh and head to your room, changing out of the stuffy formal clothes and into your pajamas, which are actually an old hoodie and a pair of Tim’s shorts that you stole. 

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” you say softly. “I’m sorry that I did. Do you want hot chocolate?”

Tim still says nothing, but he moves to the kitchen and gets out two mugs, setting them down on the counter. You sigh and smile fondly. He’s stubborn and difficult, but he’s yours.

[dragon-queen21]

Regressor Tanjiro + caregiver hashira

-Sick edition

These are kinda silly and out of character but I miss writing about all the pillars at once and I just felt like projecting

~~~

Muichiro:

~Could not care less… he’s heard enough excuses of illness being made for slayers who are just too lazy. You’ll live. Or don’t. See if he cares. That’s what he would say, if it was anyone besides Tanjiro.

~Muichiro is the same person who will lose it if Tanjiro so much as has a headache. It doesn’t help that the regressor blows everything out of proportion when he’s small.

~By the time it reaches Shinobu you would think the kid was dying. He’s not. Just a fussy baby with a common cold.

~Muichiro brings him whatever he wants. Juice? Got it. A stuffed animal? Here have 30. Cold? Now Tanjiro has like a gajillion blankets piled on top of him.

~Probably falls asleep next to Tanjiro (under the guise of making sure no one disturbs his friend) and wakes up the next morning with a cold too.

Tengen:

~Does not want to take care of a sick kid. Nope. Unflashy. Come back in three to six business days when your feeling better

<-Gets scolded by his wives for making the baby cry. Tanjiro already feels miserable, why do you have to make it worse?

~Complains about it the whole time but also would be the kind of parent to be up at three in the morning because Tanjiro’s fever got worse and now Tengen can’t sleep without making sure it goes back down

Rengoku:

~Chicken noodle soup and so many stories.

~Don't have to worry about being bored while sick that's for sure

~Also Rengoku just runs warm in general, and Tanjiro takes advantage of this, just cuddled up against the elder's side 24/7

Obanai:

~He deals with his own illnesses by laying on the ground and moping.

~In other words he's terrible at this

~Has to be the one to explain to the regressor that no, he can't have a pacifier if he can't breathe through his nose currently. No- don't cry! That's only going to make things worse.

~Shinobu walks in and finds the two laying on the floor.

Obanai: "He said he was uncomfortable on the bed. and personally, I agree" Shinobu: "I swear-"

~Doesn't even stick around that much and still he ends up sick.

Giyu

~Probably ends up sick after because he doesn’t understand the meaning of personal space. His son is sick he is going to nap right next to him until he feels better. They will go down together if they must-

~Shinobu meanwhile telling Giyu to stop being dramatic, neither of them is going to die, and get Tanjiro to eat this soup and take his medicine

~Keeps a cool cloth on Tanjiro's head and brushes through his hair in the way that he remembers Urokodaki and more recently Kagaya doing for him

Gyomei:

~Literally the best at getting kids to take their medicine which of course extends to regressors (and an honorable mention for Obanai)

~Milk bottle laced with cold medicine to help the boy fall asleep works a whole lot better than Shinobu’s method of 'try scaring the kid into taking it'

~The living motto of get rest and drink lots of water

~Also believes in getting some fresh air is good for you, so he takes Tanjiro outside for a little bit and just lets the regressor nap on his lap in the sunshine

Mitsuri:

~Makes him porridge with honey and spoon feeds Tanjiro when he insists he doesn’t want to eat.

“You have to gain your strength back somehow… just one more bite for me please?”

~Ice cream as a treat and to help with his sore throat

~Fusses over him so much. Just very much “oh I know your head hurts, I know it isn’t fair, huh baby?”

Shinobu:

~Somehow one slayer's cold turns into her having three sick patients and she is so over all of them.

~Scolds Mui and Giyu that they should have known better and gets met with varying responses of ‘yeah but it’s Tanjiro’

~She does give Tanjiro a small stuffed animal to hold while she checks him over and gently promises that everything is going to be just fine.