#TW: I mean this person was putting the above two in the same light

[queenoftsage]

I knew about that movement[4B], but didn't give a fuck...

Then I saw your video and I was like... ah... The privilege is privileging... [person was claiming they didn't know about it, while living in SK]

Like, when privileged people speak from a privileged place, it's kind of mind numbing. In a lot of sentences you uttered, you basically invalidated a lot of people. I guess it's how you say, letting people live a life of a 'equality' is just a fantasy.

.... cute... But not cute at all.

Must be so nice to have grown up with a really loving father who showed you nothing be sweetness and such. I hope he was like that with everyone around him and not just you and your brother.

[and out of pure fear, those people he might have hurt 'will NEVER' speak on the fucked up shit your father did. I hope I'm very wrong about that.]

I tried to sit there and listen to your entire shpiel and got nothing but 'pick me' vibes from it because well... You yourself said you were a pick me while not saying you're a pick me. lol. You said you wanted to be a wife and not lose out on the 'marriage age bracket'.

Apparently you've never seen some people who meet each other way after the 'marriage age bracket' thing you kept speaking of. lol.

That's how I know, you invalidated a shit ton of people. Congratulations. *claps ironically*

I still don't agree with you. End of story.

I'm sure the people who follow the '4B movement' are just quiet about it in your country, because they know they'll get privileged people like you, invalidating their stance. It's kind of the same shit that happens with 'Feminism' over there.

I'm sure there are tons of people holding in all the shit they could say about the 'nicest' people ever, just because of pure fear.

Speaking up to bring down monsters is the scariest shit we as humans can try to do, but also the bravest.

[sleepiedahlia]

BEACH TRIP

FEATURING: LUCIFER,MAMMON,LEVITHAN,SATAN,ASMODEUS,BEELZEBUB,BELPHIE X (IMPLIED GIRLY!READER)

Tw: fluff! So much love:)

LUCIFER

-First of all, Lucifer does NOT I mean NOT like the beach.It takes him away from his work, it’s too loud, it’s too hot, not to mention all the stares he gets for wearing the wet suit,and if he ever took it off everyone would see his scars from the war.

-Lucifer would pack so much water for you and his brothers. He can’t have you and his brothers getting dehydrated! He would carry a whole cooler full of water bottles. You’d shove some snacks in there too, to feed your grumpy man and thank him for going to the beach with you and everyone else!

-Lucifer has to be almost dragged to get in the water. He was never much of a water person, He can’t watch his brothers if he’s playing mermaid with you! He would absolutely..not play mermaid,grown men don’t play mermaid! (He would he very much would if it was for you)

-After a Little Bit, Lucifer would demand you get out of the water for a water break. He’d make you drink a whole bottle before going back out to swim, plus adding a massive amount of sunscreen and the same goes of you were to tan.

-He keeps a good eye on you and his brother especially you in your cute pink bikini! He would definitely make sure none of your accessories or other things that fall or you drop he would immediately get back to you and he difficulty would tie your hair up with one of your cute pink bows!

-In all he doesn’t really like the beach or find it relaxing but for you, he would do it again and again if he had to but he would just say it for his brothers to have a small break but it really is for you, he loves you so much your really the sunshine to his darkness:)

MAMMON

-He likes the beach, but not as much as Levi and Beel do, and he it’s a chance to get away from Lucifer’s nagging so that’s why he (forces) you to get into the car because he has a amazing surprise for you! He also really wants to see you in that light pink swim suit he got you:)

-Every time you ask where you two are going say’s he ‘won’t say’ every time you ask where you guys are headed because you really can’t tell where you are because DevilDoms skies are always dark or dark sunset type of sky.

-as soon as you get there he’s taking you to the redish ocean waves the pretty sky above and the slight breeze but that is soon ruined by you getting your head dunked into the water!

-will absolutely engage in a water fight and will not win because he used all of his water to spray a bird, he also laughs if you fall or slip:( but he makes up for it with him buying you whatever you wanted:) but he definitely makes you put on your sunscreen and stay hydrated and if you don’t he will make you stay under the shade.

-he drives you in his car around beach and when he turns he’ll purposely try to get sand on neighboring people and drive off like nothing ever happened!

-after you guys are finished at the beach, he doesn’t care how tired you or him are, he’s going to convince you regardless to go to the movies or go somewhere out to eat.

-but none the less you and him would do it all over again:)

LEVIATHAN

-you most likely suggested it he thought it would be okay because he assumed it was a group thing so you know he got flustered and turned a tomato when he realised it’s just gonna be the two of you at the beach and none of his brothers.

-when you guys get there you basically have to drag that man to get into the water even though he loves it he’s way to shy because he won’t even take his shirt off and clings to the car door for safety.

-once you get him in he’s gonna act like he can’t swim (he can he’s very good at it) or a cat in water. probably making a pouty the whole time trying to convince you to let him get out.

-after an hour or so he starts to get more comfortable and swims around and grabbing shells off the ocean floor for you and making sure to find the prettiest and shiniest for his pretty girl! And please be happy it will get him more comfortable and be more relaxed and happy around you!

-in the end he had a pretty good time, and would love to do it again but the next time with a warning it’s only the two of you:)

SATAN

-Satan is always reading one book or another, so the idea that you two could get to spend the all day out together has him smiling to himself like an idiot the whole day he’s with you and plus time away from Lucifer? Bonus points!!

-He’ll actually help build a sandcastles with you if you want. He won’t think it’s childish! (He somewhat will but he loves you too much to say no) Sandcastles are cool! He’ll even dig a moat! He's still gonna get pissed and start raging if the ocean made it go away.

-if any seagulls try to take your food he will fry them into non-existence and get you new food for one the seagull touched.

-he will literally do anything even if it’s stupid, and he follows you around like a lost puppy but it’s really because he’s glaring at every single man who even thinks he can stare at you in your cute bikini! He did ended up fighting someone and breaking bones :)

-after that you two immediately left the beach and got dinner at a nearby restaurant and he orders the same thing as you just in case your still a little hungry!

-in all he would rather go somewhere else because of people staring at you, but if you wanted to go back he would go for you.

ASMODEUS

-will make you carry all of the 6 bags he bought for tanning and to keep his beautiful skin nice and healthy and he does make you tan with him because he doesn’t want to feel lonely.

-and he will ask you multiple times to put sunscreen on him because he wants you to admire his gorgeous body, He also insists that he puts it on you too because he wanted to admire your body as well and he loves your curves and everything about you:)

-The only reason he’ll willingly go in the water is if you ask (beg). But mostly likely, he’ll be watching you from his tanning spot on the shore enjoying the view~ (he sure does love looking at you in a swimsuit he bought you😏).

-If there’s food vendors or gift shops by the pier or beach he’ll totally get you something if you want it. Ice cream? Smoothie? A cool little souvenir? It’s yours, babe! Then you gotta go shopping with him (it’s mostly skincare) but he’ll by you even more things when he looks around because he’ll think you’ll like them!

-the end of the day you two watch the sunset, bags full of gifts and tanning stuff at your sides as the sky changes from its red and orange light to a darker black. You two are definitely coming back:)

BEELZEBUB

-Beach picnic baby! He’s bringing ALL the good snacks! Fruit, crackers, pop, water, juice, homemade sandwiches (one of them has a bite taken out of it)! He’s got everything you could need! but I would get them before he eats them all!

-he loves playing beach volleyball with you and you two go back and forth of who won the most (may or may of not been him) but he let you have it because he’s such a sweetie pie and then right after he ate some of the cherry pie he packed in the cooler.

-you guys had payed around for a little but taking in your surroundings before he had another surprise snack and cleared out one of the venders shops by the pier.

-after you guys are done playing in ocean and getting a lot of concerned stares from everyone around you (because he ate so much). he’ll take you to get ice cream but he ends up dropping his on the sidewalk but shamelessly picks it up and puts it back on the cone and eats it like it never happened.

-you two had an amazing time together and he asked to go back the next day to relive it again:)

BELPHIE

-you had to drag him out of bed if you even had a chance going, but it took two hours to get him out so now your beach time was limited but no worries night is just as beautiful as the day!

-He’ll come with you to scavenge for seashells too, even if he’s tired and doesn’t wanna be there in the first place, but he’ll literally cherish every single one you give him!

-he ends up sleeping on the cooler because he said it was more comfortable then the chair while you were playing around in the ocean.

-the most he really did was seashells and sleep but when it got to the time around sunset he took you on a long walk around the beach along the shore line the sounds of waves crashing against the the dark rocks and the way the water made the sand go from grey to black was actually quite pretty.

-even if it wasn’t an eventful day at the beach it was calming and relaxing and the walk was pretty nice, as the night ends he takes you to get food and go home to get a long needed sleep.

@SLEEPIEDAHLIA

- PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK! BUT PLEASE ADD CREDIT IF YOU USED MINE AS A REFERENCE FOR A POST! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! -

[inksoakedparchment]

A song for you

Part 1

pairing: theo x fem!reader (preferred house)

genre: soft angst/not so fluffy fluff

tw: swearing, my english

word cunt: 1197

summary: after you two broke up, he wrote a song and sings it on a slytherin party

a/n: i thought it was going to be cute. i love fluff theo

song that i used: Don’t Cry by Guns N’ Roses

dividers by @adornedwithlight

You broke up with Theo when you found out he was making out with a girl from Hufflepuff at a Slytherin party. For his excuse, he was extremely high and drunk, but you didn’t care, and you were right for it. It happened two months ago, since which you’ve been lonely without him, and the things Mattheo and Enzo give you updates on about Theo, don't help the process of moving on at all. But deep down, you don’t even want to. You still love him even after what happened, it’s not like you can easily erase one year out of your life.

You’re chilling and reading in your dorm room when Mattheo storms in.

“Y/N you must dress up in some hot shit because you’re coming with me and Enzo to the party,” he puts his hands on his hips. “Now!” he demands as you raise your eyebrows.

“I’m not going anywhere, Riddle,” you roll your eyes while opening the book again.

“I wasn’t asking you. It was an assertion!” he shakes his head as he opens your wardrobe, throwing a short burgundy dress on you. “Put on the lipstick which is the same colour as the dress,” he nods to himself.

“Matt, I’m not going anywh-”

“Yes, you are. Now, Y/N!” he cuts you off with an irritated tone.

You groan as you stand up and grab the dress, heading to the bathroom.

“With more passion, and please be quick,” he claps, giving more definition to his words to hurry you.

You shut the door after going in, then dress up. You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, with the lipstick in your hand. With an annoyed look, you paint your lips with it. Actually, it looks good on you, especially with the dress. Mattheo has taste in fashion, that’s for sure.

“You look… pretty good,” he grins and grabs your hand to pull you out of your dorm to the party.

“Mattheo Thomas Riddle! What’s going on? I had to dress up like an elegant whore and you’re pulling me like I can’t walk by myself,” you stop and cross your arms on your chest.

“Y/N, please just trust me! I promise it's not a prank. It’s important,” he asks you gently, almost begging you to go with him.

You sigh and start walking again, he smiles at you like he has won the lottery. You finally arrive at the party and he makes some vodka and orange for you. He then also lights a joint and puts it in your mouth.

“Have fun my favourite wag,” he grins and leaves you alone. You just stand there in total shock, with the question ‘What the fuck was that?’ You shake your head and take a drag from the weed, then a sip from your drink. After a few more puffs, when you feel the lovely effect on yourself, you hand it to a random person who is in your way.

You’re taking sips from your cup when you hear someone start to play the guitar and then a familiar voice starts speaking. You immediately recognize it and turn in the direction where it is coming from.

“So, I hurt the only one who means anything to me. To be honest, she means the entire world to me and I wrote a song for her,” he clears his throat, takes a deep breath and starts singing.

“Don't you cry tonight I still love you, baby Don't you cry tonight Don't you cry tonight There's a heaven above you, baby And don't you cry tonight

Give me a whisper And give me a sigh Give me a kiss before you Tell me goodbye Don't you take it so hard now And please don't take it so bad I'll still be thinkin' of you And the times we had, baby,”

You feel your heart beating rapidly when you hear him sing. So obvious he’s looking for you in the crowd and when he meets your gaze, doesn’t plan to stop the eye contact.

“And don't you cry tonight Don't you cry tonight Don't you cry tonight There's a heaven above you, baby And don't you cry tonight

And please remember That I never lied Oh and please remember How I felt inside now, honey You gotta make it your own way But you'll be alright now, sugar You'll feel better tomorrow Come the morning light now, baby”

You watch him, amazed with teary eyes and you know it’s literally a public apology. He didn't keep your relationship a secret but had always been more private about it. Never liked when other people were involved in your things. But now? He’s apologizing again in front of a lot of people shamelessly.

He puts down the guitar and makes his way to you.

“I’m so fucking sorry for what I did. You didn't deserve it and I really wanna make it up to you. Shout at me, yell at me, but please say something,” he’s begging you with a guilty expression.

You stand frozen in silence, studying his face intently. Paralyzed by the moment, you struggle to move, speak, or think soberly.

“I can't think straight right now,” you sigh. “I’m high and drunk, don't even know what to say or do.”

“Cara mia, I can wait as long as you want me to wait for you,” he takes your hand.

“I don't know if I want you to wait either,” you pull back your hand from his.

“Don't do this to me, I beg,” he pleads with hazy eyes.

“Theo, I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now,” you turn around and rush out of the common room, making your way to the Astronomy Tower.

You've been sitting there for hours now, and you can see the sun is rising. Actually, it's beautiful when the sun and the moon are in the sky at the same time. Feels like it's not possible but still, it's happening all the time. You can see Theo and yourself in this. Impossible yet it still exists in a way.

You decide it’s time to go back to your dorm. At least you deserve a nap after these kind of events. You swiftly take a shower, remove your makeup and go to sleep with messy thoughts. You dream about Theo - as always - but now it's not about he's cheating on you, it’s about your future. With a house, two dogs and… and a girl. Who has Theo’s eyes and smile, your hair and nose. A perfect mix of the two of you.

You wake up in a puddle of sweat, because of how overwhelming the dream was for you, and can't help it. You don't know why, maybe because it’s hard to imagine that you still have a future together after everything that happened. You still love him, that's not a question but… there's the but and what if. What if he does it again? What if he cheats? What if you can't forgive him? He could cheat again. And, he could break your trust again. The question isn't if you can trust him again but if you can do so completely.

part 2

tag list: @sunkissedscribbles

comment if you want to be on my tag list<3

[jun-of-love]

kiss cam - lee seokmin

summary: an extra ticket. a pathetic stranger. a kiss cam. what could possibly go wrong?

tw: none

words: 1.7k

genre: fluff

pairing: yn × dokyeom

a/n: dk is the cutest most precious talented man ever- i was overwhelmed with his sunshine and spontaneously came up with this. hope you like it :)

It’s been a month or so.

A month since you saw your ex, who was once the light of your life, soundly sleeping in some other girl’s arms, butt naked at that. You grimace as the scene plays out in your head again, making you feel the same way it did the first time it happened. You had immediately cut off all contact from him to the point that you had moved to a new place, just so that he didn’t have any access to you. You wanted to see him grovel and beg for your forgiveness, or at least take excruciating revenge for wasting two years of your life, but you let it all go for your own peace and self-respect. All of these drastic measures, yet your stupid heart mourned the absence of the heartless man.

You looked the tickets on your table. You had gone through hoops to get a hold of them, the key to the best seats possible for the finals of the Ice Hockey tournament. While you personally had no interest in the game, your ex was super into the niche sport- the tickets were supposed to be his early birthday gift. You shook your head, trying to get out of the sobby mood. So what if he wasn’t here? You went above and beyond for these tickets, and you will have the best possible experience of the game anyone can have!

Easier said than done, you thought, as your loneliness pinched more with every couple or big group of friends passed by you. They didn’t have the best seats like you did, but they were surely going to have the best time with their friends and partners. You were seriously contemplating giving away the tickets and going home when you heard exasperated yelling by the ticket verification stand. It seemed like a man was throwing a tantrum, and the authorities were close to calling the security on him. The man turned away angrily, sniffling and wiping his tears.

You carefully approached the man, partly because you intrigued by his condition, and partly because he was hot. Everyone knows that stranger danger reduces by 30 percent if the stranger is hot. 50 percent if he is smoking hot.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

The man looked at you. Even with his tearful eyes and runny nose, he had a certain charm about him. The kind that made you want to hug him till he felt okay. Pathetic charm, if you will.

“I got scammed. The agent I bought the tickets from sold me fake tickets and I’m obviously not able to reach him now-” He put his head in his hands. “I really wanted to watch this game, it’s the last game my favorite player is going to play before he retires.”

You take a look at his jersey. He supported the same team you were planning to root for- mainly due to the reason because that is the one that played opposite to your ex’s favorite team. You eyed the two tickets in your purse, feeling a flutter in your stomach- you might not have all that a terrible time today.

“You want to accompany me? I have an extra ticket.” You asked him, already knowing his answer.

“Are you joking right now? Are you another scammer? Please, I don’t have any money left, please don’t play with my feelings.” He seems so innocent; you resist the urge to pull his cheeks.

“I don’t know, do scammers give away tickets for free?” You say cockily, clearly enjoying this too much.

“For free?!?!?!!?” His eyes almost fell out of their sockets. “Why would you do that!?”

“Because I bought these tickets to watch the game with my boyfriend, but he decided to cheat on me and now he’s my ex and I’m at this game alone with an extra ticket in my hand.” You offer him the ticket, “do you mind being my date for tonight?”

“Date?” He asks, his eyes round and expressions eerily similar to a cute puppy.

“You know what I mean!” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, yes or no?”

“YES!”

The entire time you took to reach your seats, your date did not stop talking for even a minute. By now, you knew that he came from a family of four, his best friends were called Jeonghan and Mingyu, none of them had any interest in this sport which is why he was alone. He was not shy around people (evidently so) and his favourite colour was green. It did not get boring though, for some reason. It just made you want to know more about him.

Once you were settled in your seats, you decide to disturb your date from his awe of the view, “You never told me your name.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m Seokmin. You can also call me Dokyeom.” Seokmin flashes a smile that could soothe a crying baby.

“Why would I call you Dokyeom if your name is Seokmin?”

“It’s actually because my mom and my dad had differ-”

“Never mind, hello, my name is y/n.” You put your hand forward. “Nice to meet you.”

Seokmin smiles again, shaking your hand. You didn’t know the standard time duration of a handshake, but you were sure yours was taking a bit too long. You shyly remove your hand from his, and ask the most embarrassing question of the night, ”So before the game starts, can you tell me a little about the team we’re supporting right now? I know nothing.” You bite your lip, hoping he wouldn’t take offence at the statement.

Seokmin laughs a little, “I will try to let you know as much as possible, but feel free to ask questions even during the game if you want. I like to share my interests, you know.” And off he went, about the players and their positions, and who played the best and who was the weakest and his favorite player who was retiring- and you had to fight yourself to pay attention because all your damn mind could think of at the moment was how kissable his lips are and how endearing he looked with all his excitement. A month without any action and you were already losing your marbles. You nod along with him until the horn goes off signaling the beginning of the match. Seokmin jumps up at the sight of the players and cheers for them, leaving you to wonder how a person can store so much excitement in them.

Gradually, you started getting into it. The complicated sport seemed so easy now, almost too easy. You knew which players were reliable, and you found one or two that you would root for. Everyone around you felt like your childhood friends, cheering for your favourite team. You look at Seokmin, who shook your arm every time something exciting happened in the game, its been an hour since you both had been acquainted, and his wide smile had not budged even for a second. You feel warmth in your heart as you realize, you were having so much fun.

For the first time in thirty days, you were not moping around or crying, but actually smiling, ear to ear at that. Enthusiasm had to be contagious, because if not, why were you yelling at the top of your voice, clapping till your arms hurt and high fiving everyone around you? Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was his beautiful smile, you felt a special fondness towards Seokmin, the kind that made you blush every time he grabbed your hand.

It was the intermission, and both of you were relatively relaxed since your team had been doing pretty well. You were explaining your exact job description to him, since he seemed so curious about everything in your life. Almost like it was his life’s mission to write a biography on you by the end of those three hours. You just noticed how he still hadn’t let go of your hand, when you were interrupted by loud audience cheers; it was the crowd’s favorite pastime: the Kiss Cam.

Personally, you loved things like these. You loved how couples were caught off-guard with their faces on the screen, and then continued to have their own little moment. Embarrassingly enough, you had pictured yourself getting proposed (by your snake of an ex) on one of such instances, where the kiss cam would focus on you both and then he would pull out a ring and-

A particularly loud cheer from people around you woke you up from your thoughts. A part of your imagination had come to life- you were indeed on the kiss cam screen. With Seokmin at that. You both meet eyes and you feel awkwardness seizing every nerve of yours. While he is busy calming down the crowd with hands, making the ‘X’ gesture and shaking his head politely, you wonder if this was an opportunity to do what you had been wishing to do all this time. As the crowds’ cheers of “Kiss him! Kiss him!” get louder (have people always been so nosy?), you grab him by his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Can I kiss you?”

He smiles softly, putting his warm hand on your neck, “I was hoping you’d ask.”

He closes the gap between you two by putting his lips on yours, pulling you in by the back of the neck. You could hear the crowd react, but you didn’t care- your senses were overloaded by his expensive perfume and how good his lips felt on yours. You deepened the kiss, your hands around his neck, playing with his hair. He puts an arm around your waist, pulling you closer than possible. His body feels hot and perfect to yours it feels to good to be true. That is until a middle-aged woman coughed loudly behind you, forcing both of you to pull away.

People were now minding their own business, looking put off even, by the overboard of affection portrayed by you. These were the same people that put you in that spot in the first place, you scoffed at the thought. You turned to Seokmin, who was already looking at you with the most doe-eyed gaze possible. You giggle, “What is it? What do you want to say?”

“Would you go out on a date with me? Like officially?” He bites his lips, as if he doesn’t know the obvious answer.

“Sure,” you smile cockily, “but you’re paying.”

“I’ll pay for every date ever if it means I get to kiss you again.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 13/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma, TW: Self Harm

Chapter Thirteen: The New Normal

Bruce woke up with a blade to his throat. “Jason—.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jason whispered. He had a man’s voice, an angry man’s voice, but Bruce knew better.

“Because you’re scared,” Bruce whispered as he opened his eyes. They exchanged glances in the dark.

“You’re the one with a knife to your throat, and I’m the one who’s scared?” Jason asked.

“If you were mad, you would’ve gone for my eyes,” Bruce answered. Jason tightened the blade against Bruce’s neck, allowing the serrated edge to penetrate the skin. “Sit down, and let’s talk. It’s been a while… I missed you.”

Jason shook his head. “No, it’s a trick,” Jason whispered. Bruce touched Jason’s wrist gently.

“You don’t think I love you… And that hurts, doesn’t it?” Bruce asked. Jason pressed the blade further into Bruce’s flesh, drawing blood. Bruce didn’t flinch.

“Do you think this is funny?” Jason asked. Tears forced their way down Jason’s cheeks as he raised the knife above his head. Bruce let go of Jason’s wrist and stared into his eyes. They were a child’s eyes. Jason let out a sob involuntarily as the tears flooded down his face. “Fight back!” Jason screamed. Bruce didn’t move. Blood trickled down his neck as he watched Jason fight within himself.

“I wasn’t the same without you… If this is what it takes to prove I love you, then so be it, Jason. I’d do almost anything for you,” Bruce whispered. Jason let out a sickened scream like a wounded animal as he plunged the knife into Bruce’s shoulder.

“We should’ve died together! I passed away without ever knowing how you felt! If you loved me, you would’ve died with me!” Jason screamed. “Or you would’ve killed him!”

“I couldn’t kill Jo—. Him… because it would’ve made your death cheap. I don’t know how to fix it if I can outside of that, but part of me knew that I’d never be able to remember you as you were if I made it about him. I wanted to kill him… Hell, I still want to kill him for what he did to you, but I never would’ve grieved you properly. You deserved that at least—.”

“You didn’t grieve me. You replaced me. I was nothing more than another sidekick to you. You never cared about any of us… You didn’t care about me,” Jason spat. The words tasted sour to Bruce as he considered Jason’s words. Bruce didn’t want to fight. That was the mistake Bruce made back then. He never should’ve fought Jason.

“I love Tim and Dick… But you were special. I don’t think any two people were more made for each other as father and son as we were. Jason, I couldn’t love the same after you. I couldn’t breathe the same… Batman will never feel the same. I put on the cape and cowl, and I’m constantly haunted by the little boy I killed.

“I know you’re scared, but I’m here. It’s not too late to let me help you. We can fix this—.”

Jason pulled the blade from Bruce’s shoulder and backed away. “You didn’t want me anymore! You were gonna let me go with her! She was a stranger, and you were fully prepared to let me go with her… Like I didn’t mean anything to you,” Jason cried as he sank to the ground in a corner of the room. Bruce held his bleeding shoulder as he sat up and turned the light on.

“I thought it would keep you safe. I didn’t want you to leave, but I—. I was terrified about what would happen if you stayed with me… It’s all my fault,” Bruce admitted. Jason hid his face in his hands.

“I was scared, Bruce… Everything was falling apart, and I just—. I wanted something to hold onto,” Jason wept, “You weren’t there for me.”

“You’re right. I was too passive. When I saw you hurting, I backed away. I should’ve been stable. That’s all you needed,” Bruce replied as he approached Jason. “You loved all your parents, and we all failed you. Didn’t we? You loved Willis. I know you did… But he didn’t know how to let you be gentle. You loved Catherine, but drugs took her away from you… You loved Sheila, and she betrayed you… And you loved me, and I failed you in every way imaginable. I’m sorry.” Jason dropped the knife and looked up. Bruce nodded.

“I hate you so much,” Jason cried. Bruce nodded as he opened his arms. Jason struck Bruce across the face. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” Jason fought Bruce’s embrace until he realized Bruce wasn’t giving up. “I loved you, Bruce.”

“I love you too, Jason,” Bruce whispered, “Jason… You’re gonna be alright. I’m not gonna let go. I’m right here. Nothing else matters, I promise.”

Jason wept on Bruce’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m so tired,” Jason mumbled.

“I know…” Bruce held Jason until he fell asleep, and he tucked Jason into his bed. While Jason slept, Bruce patched himself up and sat by Jason’s bedside, pushing his hair back. “It’ll be alright. This wasn’t your fault. You’re gonna be okay,” Bruce whispered. Jason breathed heavily in his sleep as if he hadn’t slept in days. His chest heaved up and down quickly, and Bruce gave Jason’s scalp a gentle scratch. “You’re safe now. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got you now.”

*

Bruce slept in the chair and awakened as Jason draped a blanket over the older man. Bruce looked up and smiled. “How’s your inner child?” Bruce smiled.

“You let me stab you in the shoulder,” Jason mumbled as he sat on Bruce’s bed crosslegged.

“I thought you were aiming for my throat,” Bruce whispered, “And you missed everything important.”

“I wasn’t aiming for anything important… I was thinking…” Jason chuckled, but his smile quickly faded. “You know about what happened when I was ten years old… What do you have to say about it?” Jason asked.

“Are you a baptized Catholic?” Bruce questioned. Jason smiled and nodded. “And we didn’t talk about why… Why’d you do it?”

“Things were awful at home. Mom and Dad were fighting all the time, and—. And I was tired of being the adult,” Jason replied, “I was only ever a kid when I was with you.”

“I’m glad I did one thing right,” Bruce grinned, “Oh, the haircut you had when you were eight… I liked it.”

“Funny,” Jason replied, “I learned a lot from this.”

“You remember all of it?” Bruce questioned. Jason nodded.

“Don’t tell anyone that I remember, okay? Except for Stephanie… Tell her I said she was one of the best moms I ever had,” Jason smiled.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me… And I’m grateful for the time I spent with you these past few weeks,” Bruce confessed, “But next time, can we do family therapy instead?” Jason laughed.

“I’ll never let you off that easy,” Jason whispered. The two men sat in the dark together, watching the sunrise outside Bruce’s bedroom window. “I don’t know how to move forward, Bruce.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out,” Bruce whispered.

[norangeyyy]

Late Night HCs

Bucci Gang Edition

TW: nothing too extreme, just a little bit of hurt/comfort stuff sprinkled right here and there.

Bruno Bucciarati

► Bucciarati typically doesn't stay up late at night, he has work and would squeeze all the amount of sleep he can get on his free time.

► Unless he has a lot of things in mind.

► It doesn't matter whether it's a work-related problem, his past, a random thought, or just generally his worries about his future. It will keep him up.

► He'll definitely need someone to be an outlet but if no one's available, he'll just stare at the night sky and distract himself with the moving clouds or finish some of his work until he's too tired to think of anything.

► If you happen to be in the same situation and same place that night though, then make sure that you take care of the trust he has for you when he was at most vulnerable and he will do same with you.

► I personally headcannon Bucciarati to be the type to like those kind of conversations since i highly doubt that he has been so vulnerable in front of anyone besides Abbachio ever since he joined the mafia.

► And even then, he's mostly the one who lifts the spirits up and not the other way around since he's the leader.

► So expect to hear things and words you wouldn't expect to come from the Bucciarati you see everyday come spilling out of his mouth, it'll be a lot.

► Pat his back or better yet, give him a hug and brush his hair while doing so. He needs it a lot since he hasn't really got one after his family fell apart.

► "I feel so much better now, thank you. I'll make sure not to forget about this night. "

Leone Abbachio

► The night owl of the gang.

► Staying up until 3AM is nothing new to this man, hell, he could even go on a whole day without sleep if he has a lot of things that's bothering him.

► He's the opposite of Bucciarati, he prefers to shoulder his intrusive thoughts alone. It'd take some great amount of effort and trust to make him talk and let it out.

► What he does during those times is either using his stand to replay certain memories that could either worsen his guilt or put him at ease, or just drink until he passes out but most of the time, he does both.

► He could also be listening to some music while he does so but if he's feeling guilty for making Bucciarati concerned about his frequent drinking, then he'll just listen to music and hope that he'll fall asleep and not just keep his eyes closed until the sun rises.

► It works, kind of, but even without alcohol driving him to sleep, he'll always be tired. His sleeping schedule is seriously messed up because he never really cared about it in the first place.

► Would sometimes go out for a walk. Leone is fond of the city's peacefulness when everyone is asleep, with the only thing keeping him accompany is the cold air and the dim light of the lampposts.

► Secretly still has his police uniform and would occasionally take it out just to stare at it or talk to it in a not-so-kind of way as he sees his younger self in it.

► Gets dragged in whatever shit Narancia and the others are up to if he gets spotted. Mostly it's just for a movie night behind Bucciarati's back but Abbachio knows better and expects the unexpected when it comes to the gang.

► Knows what everyone does in late night if they're still up and has seen a lot of ungodly sights.

► Whether it be seeing a sleepy Mista and the pistols chanting a weird prayer to a bowl of cereals or Fugo being dragged out of his room by Narancia, Leone knows it.

Pannacotta Fugo

► Just like Bucciarati, Fugo rarely stays up late at night and if he does, it's usually just because he's busy.

► Fugo has hobbies like painting and reading, everyone in the gang knows that. It's just that he gets carried way too far sometimes and loses track of time.

► Who could blame him though when the book he's reading is just too interesting or the painting he's currently working on is almost done, right?

► On extremely rare occasions where something unpleasant enough to keep Fugo up at night happens, he'll bundle himself in his fluffy blanket like a butterfly in its cocoon.

► He always does this back when he's still living with his parents, it makes him feel safe from anything that's haunting him.

► And if it's neither his hobbies or problems that's keeping him up, he'll just hear Narancia whispering outside his door or Mista throwing pebbles at his window.

► For the first few times the duo did this, Fugo was still able to resist until he just can't anymore knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone all night.

► "Well, this isn't so bad. "

► He says as he enthusiastically tosses a popcorn into his mouth with his eyes glued all over the lit screen of the TV.

► Movie nights, along with sneaking out to go the nearest convenience store, became a common thing between the Torture Dance Trio™ ever since then.

Narancia Ghirga

► The type to wake up in the middle of the night and think "Hmm... Everyone's asleep, let's commit robbery tonight!"

► Fugo's sleep paralysis demon.

► Would literally not hesitate to steal chocolate bars with Mista and probably does 3AM challenges with him too.

► Never runs out of ideas to keep himself up at night and is the one who comes up with everything but what he does still depends on his mood.

► If Narancia's feeling a little too lazy then he'll just sleep and most of the time, with music keeping him accompany. But unlike Abbachio, he purposely doesn't wear headphones just to annoy Fugo whose room is right next to his.

► If he's feeling like it, he'll straight up just invite the others to watch a movie or play videogames even though Bruno has already made it clear not to use the TV after 11PM.

► But just as he likes staying up at night doing crazy things with the boys, he also uses his energy left and free time to self-study, as surprising that may sound.

► He may hate reading but he takes advantage of the fact that his brain is much active at night and he doesn't want to depend on Fugo too much. After all, he dreams on going back to school and he's more than willing to be capable enough to do so alone and pass without the other teen's help.

► Will cuddle anything that's near him while he studies but if you give him a plushie, it'll be instantly his favorite and he would definitely use it as a study buddy.

Guido Mista

► Alright, let's be honest here, this dude wouldn't even stay up if it weren't for his bros.

► 5 seconds lying on the bed and he's already knocked out for a good 10 hours if there's no work he has to do for the day. Make it 8 at weekdays thanks to his mafia-related responsibilities.

► He sleeps like a log so only a combination of shaking him up awake with Fugo and Narancia can make him rise from what seems like a two year coma but is really just a normal tuesday night.

► Will pretty much join Narancia at anything he does but since his last three brain cells are obviously still as half asleep as him, he won't be able to remember that much the next day.

► And once he's out of the room and is already sitting on the couch with the guys, Mista's the type to fall asleep halfway through the movie.

► You can't blame him though, it's 12AM and it seems that Fugo got to choose what movie they'll watch since Narancia already got to choose the other night.

► Unless they're playing videogames or are going out then he won't be acting like a slow ass PVZ zombie with a fried brain. Actually, he'll be hella active if that's the case.

► Active at grabbing every snack each second, that is.

► Actually, it's the pistols who does that but oh well, it's not like Mista's innocent too.

► "I swear it's not me who ate all of our groceries for this month! Right, guys?! It's the pistols! "

► And that, everyone, is how Guido blew their little rendezvous without even trying.

Giorno Giovanna

► There's not much to be said about this boy since just like Mista, Giorno goes to bed early as he makes sure he still gets the proper amount of sleep.

► He already has a lot of things to deal with at day so of course, by the end of it, he'll be exhausted.

► Nights before exams are excluded because although he may seem like he skips class sometimes, Giorno still knows his priorities.

► Only when he became the head of the mafia did he really started to lose sleep as great power comes with great responsibilities.

► It took a LONG time for Giorno to adjust to a lot of things cause come on, he maybe resilient but he's still a 15 year old teen.

► Not only does he have towers after towers of work but i like to imagine that he still continued his education and used some of the things he learns in class in the mafia, specifically in classes like history or geography class since as a boss, he has to know every nook and cranny of Italy.

► Not to mention that emergencies happen and he always has to be ready to give out orders, even if it means being woken up at 1AM.

► God, help this child because all the things mentioned above are just an understatement of what happens on the first few months of being in charge of Passione.

► "So this is why Diavolo looks like he's about to explode whenever something goes wrong huh. "

[salazarslytherin]

midnight rendezvous (b.w x y/n)

requested: yes! by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 [i love you arms your writing so uh anything w bill weasley. either smut, angst, fluff, etc. is fine, but could it be on the longer side. please and thank you, no pressure btw :)] send in your own request here

summary: where you and bill have a penchant for meeting in the night

part two here

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: angst, smut AND fluff babes fem!reader, bill's kind of a dick for a part. sexual tension to the MAX doll. age difference (~6-7 years?) reader IS 18! jic anyone was worried. also i imply reader is short-ish? but in my mind bill is like 6’3-6’5 so he’s massive and like most people would be shorter than him

word count: 5.25k (so i heard u say ‘on the longer side’ and interpreted it as ‘i want a short novel’. hope this satisfies u doll, there'll be one or two?? more parts coming!!)

a/n: requested by @weasleyswizardwheezes1 . hope you like it! pls leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost if you did xx

☯︎ join tag list here

Being the best friend of the Weasley twins definitely had its perks. Spending summers at the Burrow, having a second family that was closer to you than your own, friendly banter that came along with the family.

However, there was an unexpected drawback that came with this.

A drawback by the name of Bill Weasley.

⚔︎

Although in the same year as the twins, you were a year older than Fred and George, meaning you had always felt a little more mature than the two pranksters.

Thus, you felt like you noticed things that the two of them never really noticed. Girls having crushes on them, boys being envious of them, the ways rumours would fly around about the three of you.

The main thing, however, that you felt the two of them didn't notice, was the way Bill treated you.

It wasn't that he'd always been like this. The first few years you'd known the man, he was very nice to you – familial and brotherly, much like the rest of the family had been to you.

However, sometime in fifth year, things changed.

⚔︎

You arrived at the Burrow with the twins for Christmas, ready to be welcomed by the family you'd come to call your own, but was left feeling hurt, weirdly hollow.

Every Weasley had welcomed you with open arms, except Bill. Harry, the only other non-Weasley around, was embraced heartily by the curse-breaker, but you were given a sharp nod, and nothing more.

Confused, you shook it off, moving to sit next to George, his arm wrapped around your waist as you snuggled into him. Fred landed on your other side, passing you a mug of hot cocoa as he landed a kiss on the top of your head, arm enveloping your shoulders with a tight squeeze.

Surrounded by the younger Weasleys as you watched Ginny, Ron and Harry play a game of Exploding Snap, you felt an intense gaze on you, looking up to see the four oldest Weasleys sat around the dining table, watching all of you.

You caught Bill's eyes, sending him a familiar smile, but was ignored as the man took a sip of his coffee, turning to look out the window instead.

Your hurt was short-lived as Fred leaned into whisper a soft quip into your ear, letting out a laugh, turning to relay the same quip to George.

The rest of the trip went similarly – every time you attempted to catch Bill's eye, to hold a proper conversation, he'd ignore you, or brush you off, pretending that he had something else to do.

The day all of you left the Burrow to go back to Hogwarts, Bill had even left the group before you could say goodbye to him, and you could only be left wondering, what did you do?

⚔︎

Now that you've graduated, you were relishing in the last summer you could spend in the Burrow as a teenager without the pressure of work hovering over you.

Determined to have the best time you possibly could with your 'family', your days were consumed by pranks with the twins, quidditch with the family, and helping Molly bake.

Yet, you still felt empty; a hole in the warm pit created by familial love, a hole marked with the name 'Bill Weasley'.

The cursebreaker was still actively avoiding you, for no known reason, and you stopped seeking out why a year ago. Instead, you sought to live your life with one less brother, one less family member to love.

Tossing and turning, you found yourself particularly restless one night. Not wanting to wake Fred, who was sleeping soundly in bed next to you, you got up, tiptoeing down to the kitchen to have a nice cool sip of water.

You'd taken to sleeping in the twins' room since the first holiday you were at the Burrow. Molly was against the idea at first of course, but was incapable of stopping the pranksters who managed to sneak you in night after night, insistent on having 'sleepovers' with you.

After the third night, Molly gave up, only giving you three a strict 'no funny business!' warning, before trudging back off to bed.

⚔︎

The dim lamplight from the kitchen illuminated just about enough for you to see your surroundings, having been around the Weasleys' long enough to know which boards to avoid so as to not have them creak and wake the family up.

However, what you hadn't taken into account was a body on the ground, hitting your foot into a blanketed torso, making you elicit a shriek, the unknown body on the ground letting out a muffled groan.

"What the fuck?"

You muttered a quick 'Lumos', pointing your wand at the person under the quilt, only for the fabric to be thrown aside, revealing a tousled Bill Weasley, sleep clouding his narrowed eyes as he massaged his abdominal with one hand, ruffling his hair with the other.

"Oh."

Realising that the man on the floor was, in fact, a Weasley, and not some thief who'd stolen into the house in the middle of the night, you dismissed the charm, lowering your wand and shifting awkwardly on your feet.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

Throwing a curt apology at Bill, you moved off towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cupboard above and wordlessly filling it up, intent on finishing your business as quickly as possible before heading back up to the twins.

"Pour me a cup?"

The deep voice startled you for a moment. At some point Bill had gotten up from his mound of pillows and now found himself stood behind you, his hand holding out a mug that had a 'B' painted on it, gesturing at the water jug you were holding.

Nodding curtly, you poured him his water, Bill thanking you before moving to lean against a counter, watching you from behind the rim of his mug.

"'m surprised you're down here."

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at the man in confusion.

"What'd you mean?"

He shrugged, downing the rest of his water before placing the mug down on the counter with a tad bit more strength than he needed. He stretched for a moment, arms pulled over his head to pull the sleep out of his eyes, shirt moving up with the movement to show off a slither of his toned stomach.

"You're always around the twins, never see you without 'em. Expected you to be, in their beds or something I don't know."

A protest spluttered from your throat, choking slightly on the water that you'd been drinking.

"I–what?"

The man lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

"Am I wrong? You've been in and out both their beds since you were firsties. I mean, it's not hard to guess what you're doing in there with 'em."

You huffed at the implications of Bill's words, putting your mug down with much of the same vigour as he had just now.

"First off, I'm an adult, and I can do what I please."

You were fuming, steam practically coming out your ears, and hearing the muttered 'clearly been an adult for a while' from Bill's lips didn't help.

"Second, even if I was sleeping with your brothers, which I am not, I don't understand why it'd be any of your business. It's not like we're friends or anything."

An odd, emotionless laugh came from Bill's lips, pushing off the counter to come stand over you. His tall stature forced you to stumble backwards, pressed against the wooden cabinets as he glared down at you.

"First off," Bill's deep voice was modulated up an octave, mocking your previous rebuttal.

"I am not saying your life is part of my concern. I'm concerned for my brothers."

A hand landed next to your head, pushing against the cabinet harshly.

"But second, you're practically a Weasley. It's my duty to look after you guys."

You laughed indignantly, looking away from the intense man to focus on his arm instead, as if studying the tattoos that covered his tanned frame.

"I'm sorry. It's your duty to look after me?"

You pushed him off of you, moving away with a huff, grabbing the two abandoned mugs to wash them with far too much tenacity, water splashing everywhere.

"Yes, that's what I said. I've known you since you were eleven – of course I have to watch over you. You're like family."

You rolled your eyes, giving up the facade of placidity as you left the mugs clattering in the sink, whipping around to face Bill.

"I'm like family? That's rich, William, truly rich."

Now it was your turn to advance towards the man, causing him to back up as your anger fueled you with energy, stomping dangerously close to his feet.

"If how you treat me is how you treat your family, I pity Molly for having you as a son."

Incoherent words left Bill's mouth in an attempt to argue further with you, but you didn't listen. Turning on your heel, you left the man in the kitchen, no longer concerning yourself with which steps to avoid as you stomped back to the twins' room, leaving Bill accompanied only by the dim light from the lamp, and the creaks coming from the floorboards.

⚔︎

After that infuriating night, it was no longer a 'hidden' fact that something was off between you and Bill.

While it had seemed that Bill used to be the one avidly avoiding you, the tables had quickly turned – you were now the prey ardently avoiding any encounters with your predator.

Any time Bill came into the room, you'd either leave, or place yourself as far away as humanly possible. During meals, you'd move yourself to sit next to Ginny, as opposed to in between the twins as you'd been sat for years, just so you no longer sat across from Bill. Even during quidditch, one of your favourite things to do with the whole family, you opted to sit out and stay in the twins' room or help Molly with the dishes, just to make sure you never had to interact with Bill.

Honestly, you weren't quite certain why the conversation with Bill had ticked you off so much. Maybe it was because he accused you of sleeping with your best friends, as if that was all you were good for. Maybe, it was because he had no right to insert himself in your life like that, to pretend like he cared about you in the first place.

It was clear he no longer wanted to be a part of your life when you were sixteen. You had no desire to welcome the curse-breaker back into your life now.

⚔︎

Three days after the midnight meeting with Bill, you found yourself restless again, unable to sleep.

George shifted slightly as you moved out of his bed, turning to cuddle with your now abandoned pillow as you slipped out of his grasp.

You decided to go for a quick midnight broom ride, hoping that the adrenaline rush and energy that you'd burn while flying would tire you out so you could finally fall asleep. A lot of the time you'd spent avoiding Bill turned into naps, which meant you were increasingly unable to fall asleep at night, disrupting your sleep schedule massively.

Cursing Bill under your breath, you creeped down the stairs, hoping that he wouldn't be down there again. You didn't want to have to deal with the eldest Weasley again.

Thanking your lucky stars, you landed on the final step, noting that the first floor was empty. Hoping that the door wouldn't creak when you opened it, you ran towards the small shed out back, grabbing a random broom from it and got ready to fly.

"Y/N?"

You were already mounted on the broom and ready to kick off as that dreaded baritone resounded from the door.

You should have known you weren't that lucky.

Yelling a quick "Nope!", you kicked off and flew out towards the countryside, only looking behind you to see Bill standing in his sleeping pants, hands gesturing out at you in exasperation.

"Now how's that for some good ol' avoidance?"

⚔︎

Though you'd initially planned on flying only for a little bit, seeing Bill at the door really put a damper on your plans, making you decide to fly to a nearby watering hole the Weasleys used to bring you to.

Illuminated by the moonlight, you descended upon the grassy area, smiling at the way the water rippled in the soft night breeze.

Tranquility was what the scene spelt.

In a moment motivated by something you'd come to dub as 'Weasley Whims', i.e the reason the twins had gotten the three of you in trouble constantly, you decided to strip down to your underwear to take a dip in the cool water, abandoning your clothes and wand on a mossy rock nearby.

Taking a running leap, you threw yourself into the water, feeling, for the first time in three days, free. A laugh rippled the waters as you broke through the surface, swimming back over to the edge, only for the laugh to be stolen away as you noticed a shadowed figure land next to your broom.

Bill Weasley was here to ruin your night, yet again.

You let out a strangled scream of frustration as the man alighted from his broom, feet and torso bared to the moonlight.

Clearly, he, like you, had not bothered to dress properly for the impromptu flight.

"Why are you following me."

Your question held no semblance of curiosity, only frustration as you demanded an answer from the man. His answer did not come, only moving towards the water to kneel in front of it, looking down at you.

"Why are you running away from me?"

Wisps of his ginger hair fell forward, covering bits of his handsome face as the rest was carelessly thrown up into a short ponytail, clearly done to prevent his hair from falling into his face during the flight, a precaution that you'd forgotten to take.

"I could ask you the same. Only, it must be a bit harder to hide from someone when they're already hiding from you in the first place, hmm?"

You turned away from the man, diving back down into the depths of the watering hole to kick yourself over to the other side, wanting to do nothing more than swim away from the ginger, or maybe, have him leave you alone and fly back to the burrow, alone.

But of course, fate never let you have your way.

You turned around only to see the man had sat himself down cross-legged, body illuminated by the moonlight as it highlighted the tattoos decorating his forearm, the several scars that littered his chest a sharp white juxtaposing his tanned skin.

"I never ran away from you."

Your head fell back as you tread the water lightly, looking up instead to admire the stars that embellished the night sky, recalling fondly the astronomy classes you'd taken in the past two years as you focused on constellation after constellation, intent on ignoring the man in front of you, hoping your disregard would drive him away.

"Y/N, I'm talking to you."

The words drew a monotone chuckle from you, your eyes snapping to meet Bill's.

"Well that's a first."

Bill moved to stand up, and your heart jumped for a moment. Maybe he would finally leave you alone.

But yet again, luck never did seem to favour Y/N Y/L/N.

Instead of moving further away as you'd thought he would, Bill moved closer, stepping into the shallow of the watering hole, the water soaking the bottom of his pants.

Your eyes darted at the ripple of his abs with every movement, swallowing as your eyes darted to look anywhere else you could. You were not about to find this man attractive.

You could see him coming towards you in your peripherals, and moved back to face him, his pecs the only part of his torso above the water.

"You haven't spoken to me for almost two years, and now you've just got so much to say to me, huh?

Bill looked down into the water, nibbling on his lip as he looked back into your eyes, almost sheepish as he tried to answer.

"I–"

"You know how much that hurt?"

You swam closer towards him, your feet finding ground as you stood next to him, your shoulders bared to the world as you were no longer submerged.

"You were like family to me for almost five years, and then one day. You just fucking stopped. Stopped talking to me. Stopped joking around with me. For a while, you didn't even look at me!"

Your hands came up out of the water, gesturing wildly as you basically screamed at the man, Bill flinching slightly as the water splashed into his face, looking back down at the water again.

Ashamed.

"D'you know how fucked up that was? I had no clue what happened, why one of the people I considered family, one of my favourite people in the world, just fucking despised me all of a sudden."

Bill looked up at you in surprise at your words.

"And you know the worst fucking part?"

Your voice suddenly fell to a hush, almost a whisper as a tear welled in your eye, prompting you to shut them as your head tilted down, urging your breath to slow down.

"The worst part, the worst part was that I thought it was my fault, that it was something I'd done to drive you away. I blamed myself for ages, didn't know what I said, didn't know why you hated me."

"Didn't know why you'd never like me back."

The last part was said in a true whisper, barely audible despite the silent night.

Yet Bill still heard it, and his breath hitched in his throat, eyes searching your face as a tear escaped you, rolling down your cheek.

Unable to restrain himself, Bill's hand darted forward out, cooled by the waters you two found yourself in, a blatant contrast to the warm tear as the pad of his thumb wiped it away.

You flinched away from Bill, feeling vulnerable for the first time that night, coming to the sudden realisation that you were clad only in your underwear, your unintended confession drawing heat to your cheeks as you moved away from the man.

"I, I was afraid."

Bill's own confession halted your movements, making you turn back around to look up at him, confused.

"I–, how do I say this. I was ashamed of myself."

It was now Bill's turn to feel vulnerable, his unease making him shift in the water, the water rippling around the two of you at his movements.

"That winter when you came back here, when you turned sixteen, I started seeing you as more than family. I– I found you attractive, and I felt disgusted with myself."

You huffed, disbelieving of the words you were hearing.

"I'm being serious Y/N. You just, grew up over those few months, and just came back different, somehow. I felt like a predator, I was twenty-three! You were still a kid, and I, I just didn't know what to do anymore."

"I wasn't a kid!"

"Of course you were! You were still in school, I'd been working for five years, I couldn't live with myself feeling like that. I didn't know what to do, so I just, distanced myself. Hoped that the feelings would go away eventually, then I'd just, go back to being normal."

Your eyes scanned the ginger's face, searching for a speck of a lie, a pinch of deception but only found uncertainty, attraction and lust dusting the man's face.

"But you never stopped..."

Your breath stopped for a moment as your eyes met.

"Are you being serious?"

His breath fanned your face as both of you instinctively moved closer towards each other, more of your body exposed to the world as you came further out of the water.

"As serious as I could be Y/N."

Your breath was taken away as Bill leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours, strands of ginger hair falling to tickle your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

A breathless whisper fell from Bill's lips, prompting you to nod in assent, the man falling to capture your lips before you even finished the move.

Sparks flew in that moment, the man's lips gliding over yours as he stole your breath away. You pulled apart after a second, before your lips fell back together again, insatiable in your desire to taste each other.

Bill's tongue teased you, mouth falling open for his teeth to graze at your lower lip, making you gasp such that your lips fell open in the same way, his hand moving to cup your jaw. Taking advantage of your momentary shock, the ginger slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of you as you moaned into his lips, pressing your chest against his.

The water waded around you as Bill's left hand moved down your body, fitting snugly under your ass as he muttered a soft 'jump', which you obliged.

Your legs wrapped around the man's hips, Bill walking the two of you onto the soft grass, muttering a charm against your lips before placing you down.

Instead of feeling prickly blades of grass on your skin, a soft blanket had appeared, making you smile, pulling away from the man.

"Quite the romantic, Mr Weasley. Know how to treat a girl right don't you?"

A deep chuckle sounded from the man who hovered above you on his hands and knees, biting his lower lip at the sight of you.

"Only the best for my girl."

Your heart leapt at Bill’s words; were you his now?

Not wanting to dwell on it, to overthink this moment of passion, you pulled his lips back down onto yours.

His girl.

⚔︎

The moon hung high in the night sky as both your hands explored each other, frantic, as if it was your last day on Earth and you only had here and now to envelop yourselves in each other.

The pure animalistic need that pulsed through the two of you allowed no time for foreplay, fingers hooking into the soaking fabrics that clung to both of you.

“Can I?”

Bill fingered the waistband of your underwear, thumb brushing your hip bone with motions feather light, wildly disparate from the way his lips devoured yours hungrily.

One act designed to ruin you, the other almost afraid he’d break you.

“Yes, I need you.”

You deigned to show him just how much by hooking your own fingers into his waistband, soaked pajama pants pulled away to reveal his boxers, clinging to his muscular frame.

Bill responded by undressing you with much of the same vigour, moving to pull your underwear down to your ankles, his pants in very much the same state, gazing down at your soaked private with lust clouding his vision.

“Next time,” he breathed out onto your glistening lips, “I’ll make you cum with just my tongue.”

Your breath hitched at his words, no, his promise, of a next time as Bill made his way back up your body, peppering kisses on your exposed skin, his hard-on grinding against your leg as he moved up.

The cursebreaker’s deft hands unhooked your bra expertly, sucking in a breath as your pert nipples were revealed to him.

“Beautiful.” He mumbled, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

Bill moved to unclothe himself fully, before you stopped his movements, his hands already pulling at the waistband around his hips.

“May, may I?”

He nodded as you sat up, eyes glazed as he studied your body, memorising the way your breasts glistened in the moonlight. He would make it his mission to mark them, to show anyone who came near you that you were no one’s, but his.

You hooked your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down to his thighs at an almost agonising pace as every part of Bill was unveiled to you, standing proudly in the light.

“Are you... a virgin?”

The man above you asked as it dawned upon him. He was really about to have the girl he’d been craving for.

“No, I’m not.”

His jaw clenched at your admission, the thought of someone else’s hands on you ticking him off, before pushing it away.

It didn’t matter. You were with him now.

He nodded, coming back down to kiss you as one hand braced him by your head, the other reaching down to pump himself slowly.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, eyes falling closed as you immerse yourself in him.

Bill’s knee nudged your thighs apart, moving himself so he was lined up against you, hand brushing his cock up and down your lips, causing both of you to shudder.

His head dipped into you, your tight heat causing him to hiss, pausing for a moment to savour the feeling before pushing himself in fully, stopping only once he’d bottomed out.

“Are y’okay?”

You bit your lower lip as Bill moved away from you to scan your face for discomfort or pain. His girth, while not quite painful was definitely bordering on pain, your walls stretching as he filled you entirely.

“Yes, just, one second.”

Your hands gripped his neck, lacing your fingers through the tresses of his hair as you adjusted around him. As the pain receded, you nodded, a silent signal for the man to move.

He carefully pulled out of you, then pushed back in slowly, hands landing by your head to brace himself, testing the waters whilst both of you moaned at the feeling.

“Faster.”

Bill obliged, moving to thrust in and out of you at increasing speeds with each movement. His hips snapped against yours at a speed that could only be described as vicious, eliciting sounds that defiled the tranquil nature you were surrounded by.

You were breathless as the man thrusted in and out of you, his movements only capable of drawing pants and whimpers from your mouth, the activity rendering you a simpleton who knew only two words - ‘Bill’ and ‘please’.

Your climax soon drew close, a coil tightening with his every sound and every move, your body notifying the man above you by the clench of your walls around him, the motion drawing him closer to his own orgasm.

“Are you close baby?”

A nod was all you managed as you threw your head back, Bill’s tip brushing against your g-spot edging you even closer to your precipice.

One of Bill’s hands moved down your body, landing on the bundle of nerves above where the two of you met, rubbing figure eights onto you, making you let out a gasp of surprise as the older man helped you move closer to your orgasm.

His movements didn’t falter as your moans grew louder, seeming instead encouraged by the promise of your climax, your moans growing loud and unabashed.

Each pant of his name made the man groan in return, moving both his fingers and his hips so ferociously that your breasts bounced with each thrust, your back sure to be red and chafed in the morning from the friction against the blanket.

But you didn’t care - the only thoughts you were capable of manifesting was how good it felt to have Bill inside you, how this was the one thing you’d ever needed to feel full, how he never stopped in his stimulation, the way his mouth felt on your nipples - sucking on the skin of your breasts, a reminder that would last of this fleeting night.

As Bill stimulated you with his cock, his fingers, his mouth, you couldn’t hold it in any longer - and you could tell Bill was reaching his breaking point as well - you let out a moan that would awaken the sleeping birds in the tree nearby, a scream of “Bill” that would leave the twins wondering why your voice was hoarse in the morning left you, legs trembling as you released around the man.

Yet he still never relented.

As you rode out your orgasm, your cunt throbbing, Bill never faltered in his actions, hips thrusting into you as he bit into your neck softly, intent on marking you for all to see as his cock twitched inside of you.

With a moan that you could only describe as sinful, yet angelic, a sound that would haunt your dreams and bless your nightmares, teeth grazing your sensitive skin, Bill came into you. Hot stripes of white liquid coating your walls while his thrusts slowed to a stop.

Getting up on trembling hands, Bill hovered above you, exiting you in a slow movement that had you whimpering at the sudden emptiness, your eyes still shut from your post-orgasmic bliss.

Lips pressed onto your forehead, as if Bill was savouring something he didn’t want to lose.

Something you didn’t want to lose either.

⚔︎

The flight back to the Burrow was silent, the two of you side by side as you flew through the wilderness of Ottery St. Catchpole.

When you landed, you looked out onto the nature around you, Bill landing almost immediately after you.

In the distance, you could see the sun readying to rise in the East, colours bleeding into the sky that had been pitch dark save for the spattered stars hours ago.

“Did you regret that?”

The man standing beside you asked after a moment of silence, not daring to meet your eyes as he appeared vulnerable, afraid, feigning an interest in the rising sun.

His muscular arm was what you were faced with as you turned towards him, his tall stature casting a shadow over you. You eyed the red marks you’d left on him, the little reminders scattered on his shoulders and back.

“No. Did you?”

The cursebreaker turned to face you, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched you, scanning your face for the umpteenth time that night.

“Of course not.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, drawing Bill’s gaze down towards them, a small smile telling you he was admiring the slowly darkening marks he’d left on you.

“Then why’d you assume I would’ve?”

He caught his lower lip between his teeth, gnawing on it absentmindedly as he shrugged.

“I dunno. Just assumed you wouldn’t have wanted that with an older man or somethin’, I s’just worried, s’all.”

You inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh as you reached out towards the man, cupping a hand on either side of his chiseled jaw, making him look into your eyes.

“Bill, that was my decision to make. If I didn’t want to have sex with you, I wouldn’t’ve done it. It’s not your place to decide for me whether I wanted it.”

You leaned in to capture his lips in yours; this time deepening the kiss on your terms, slipping your tongue into his mouth and savouring his taste.

Cinnamon, with a hint of mint and tobacco.

You pulled away, tracing your lips to the sweet spot under his ear, sucking softly before turning to whisper in his ear.

“I wanted it, and I’ve wanted you for longer than you could have known.”

part two out now x

[scorpionyx9621]

The Inevitable Dick Grayson Retrospective: Hero, Childhood-Crush, a Paragon of Comics Characters

I've talked about making this deep-dive for a while now. And I've been really excited about doing it. Nightwing is easily one of the most recognized and beloved characters in all of superhero media. Dick Grayson is the original sidekick all grown up transformed into one of DC Comic's greatest heroes whom, even though he's almost always associated with Batman, can stand on his own two feet easily. He's impossible not to love, with decades of beloved portrayals and an almost universal admiration amongst comic fans, as knowing him first as Robin in Teen Titans, I fell in love with the character and when I finally got re-introduced to comics last year, I fell in love with him just as much as I did Jason Todd and Red Hood.

And then it hit me. I was trying to write a thought piece on one of the literal paragons of comic heroes. One of the most beloved characters in western hero media, and I was going to criticize him?!? Me? I originally wasn't trying to put Dick Grayson on a pedestal and say he's above the big three of DC Comics, Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. Now that I had thought about it more, the more I realized that yes, a lot of the younger fans and generations prefer Nightwing to Bruce Wayne, clearly, but even above Wonder Woman and even Sups. I mean we are talking about the original sidekick character in comics media. It all originates back to Dick Grayson. I looked at the monumental task in front of me and realized that this was going to be no light task. So I, as I usually am one to do, just stayed in the drawing board, never really trying to actually write a thoughtful analysis out of fear of criticism or just not doing the character justice. It really wasn't until recently that I truly wanted to revisit this character and just give an honest analysis on why we and myself included, hold Dick Grayson with such high regard.

Please be advised, I am not going to be heavily criticizing the writings of any comics book writer at DC or any artists. This is mostly just a tangent about love and appreciation for a character. Based heavily upon his design, characteristics, representation to the people/fans as a whole and just my personal takes. I don't want to bash anyone because this is art, and art is subjective. Writing and character development is just as valid of an art as a fancy spread in a comic. There's a reason why in primary education it's referred to as language arts. (I know that's kind of missing the point but writing/speech/storytelling/communicating all fall under that same general umbrella as English/Language Arts teaching in the American Education System)

Tangent asides, enjoy!

TW: Violence, mentions of SA, discussing sex in general: I'm going to generally say this post is 18+ because while this isn't pr0n, it does contain heavy simping for a fictional character. You have been warned.

So I like many people in that weird late-millennial/early Gen-Z grew up watching this boy on cartoon network in the 2000s when we were kids. (I was born in 1996, give me a break) This is Robin. Leader of the Teen Titans from the eponymous tv show, Teen Titans. Robin was that character who fit nicely into that mould formed by mid-2000's media in an obsession with edgy, dark, spiky-haired boys who brooded but we're still cool and above it all. Think your Price Zuko's, your Shadow the Hedgehogs, your Sasuke Uchiha's. Robin fit nicely into that mould and became a lot of people's fictional crushes. I too fall into that category. Robin was the leader of the group but portrayed a very cold and stern front, one who was deathly serious but knew how to have fun and kick back when the moment called. Savvy and smart but full of drama and edge, jealousy and even pure anger. Robin was a fully realized and 3D character who had great development but felt so very real and even personal.

I've been avoiding calling him Dick Grayson because while it's very heavily implied that this is Dick Grayson, it isn't outright stated. We're 99% sure this is Dick Grayson because of an episode where they meet their future selves, this Robin does become Nightwing in the future. That being said, a lot of his traits, most notably his bowstaff usage, is taken directly from Tim Drake. So there's been some debate on whether this is Tim Drake or Dick Grayson, but looking retroactively at the earlier Teen Titans comics and Tim Drake's teen Titans comics. It's pretty clear that the intention was to have this Robin from the TV show be a more anime-centric, edgier Dick Grayson. This asides, this is what made me fall in love with the character of Robin. And yes, characters change and evolve, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's really not. What I am here to say is though, that Dick Grayson only gets MONUMENTALLY better from here on out.

So my introduction to the comics is really not logical. Granted trying to find a congruent spot to start in DC Comics is like trying to break bad news to someone. There's no right way to do it, it's just do it. Sometimes you stick the landing and land on a good one, sometimes you don't. And I landed on Red Hood and the Outlaws as my first DC Comic series as I was introduced to the comic side from Jason Todd, but this isn't about him. This is about Dick Grayson and a celebration of him. I already have enough thought pieces on Jason. When I first landed into a Dick Grayson-centric comic it was actually Grayson. Which I know is a weird starting out point but honestly, as an analysis of Dick as a character and who he has become as an adult, this was a fantastic introduction to him as a character. Not to mention, Mikel Janin is CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED as a Dick Grayson artist. I mean come on. I could stare at that face for literally HOURS.

Speaking of, I think now would be a good time for me to define who Dick Grayson is to me. My broad overview is that Dick Grayson is the sidekick who grew up. The one who was seen as the best there was after all those years and he's still the best. Robin was defined for being the light side of the bat. The light side of the moon so to speak. Dick Grayson is the true representation of the idea that dark is not evil. Dick Grayson is the hope and dream that our children end up better than us fully realized. While Batman is 'The Dark Knight', Nightwing is the hopeful beacon towards the future. Dick Grayson is what everyone strives to want to be. He's truly the idea of a hero encapsulated around a veil of horrific darkness and trauma and intimidation. I'm a person who is obsessed with duality and its themes, and I absolutely adore the duality of Nightwing. His means and methods are just as harsh and even more brutal than the bat's, but he also is the one who steps into the light and prioritizes the little guy. He's witty and funny, vibrant and full of life but he's also extremely brooding and downright malicious if pushed far enough. He's probably the biggest proponent of the Bat family's 'no kill policy' second only to the Bat himself when in actuality Bruce thought if he let Dick go unsupervised, he would want to and probably would kill Tony Zucco. For the majority of his time as Robin and well into his time as Nightwing, Dick did have every intention of killing Tony Zucco. Dick has also killed The Joker in a fit of blind rage. Dick has powers and skills to match and even surpass Bruce, he has genius intellect and in many ciminal cases is seen to be even faster on his feet than Bruce. But Dick is so human, he is THE exception to the saying "Marvel is the story of normal people learning to live with the power of the gods. Whereas DC is the story of God's learning to live amongst humans" No, for all intents and purposes, Bruce is written pretty much as omnipotent. Dick is the human extension of this omnipotent hero. I mean hell, it's even stated by Superman that the multiversal constant is that Dick Grayson/Nightwing is beloved and is a good person no matter what universe he's in.

Also it's pretty deep in but if you haven't figured out by now that Dick Grayson is my favorite character in comics 2. Because all of this and 1. That I am a SIMP for this 2-dimensional man, then now's your chance to turn back because this is where I get downright thirsty because all jokes aside, I'm down cataclysmic for this character. But this man is physical perfection. Easy on the eyes is an understatement with Dick Grayson and to say that I'm attracted is also an understatement. He's that dark edgy boy we all crushed on in middle school all grown up and he's aged like fine cognac. He's literally famous throughout pop culture because of his behind. He's at the same level of popularity in his respective universe as Spider-Man but darker, edgier, and sexier. I know there's a lot of people here who are very protective of his sexuality and sex appeal but Dick Grayson is very famously known for getting down with an actual space alien. There was a whole controversy surrounding comics and homosexuality in the 40's/50's and it was started by him. He's a male gymnast with the physique of a Greek God and has been portrayed as even a stripper for a comic. DC Comics is not afraid to sexualize him and Dick Grayson has been sexualized for literally DECADES now. Dick Grayson has been sexualized before my parents were even born.

I'm not here to judge people for their attraction to a fictional character, nor am I here to justify my reasoning for liking said fictional character. DC Comics is well aware of their blatant sexualization of Dick Grayson. They utilize it almost every opportunity they can get him on a panel. The angle of which varies, like how in Grayson they have him be not only oggled at/inspected while naked and even touched and groped, to which he vocally and firmly voices that he didn't give permission and that he's not comfortable in this position, to certain villains pondering what kind of steroids he's taking because he's in that pique of physical condition and many even making lewd remarks about his physicality. To the infamous Devin Grayson run of Nightwing. Now truth be told, I don't completely hate this era of Nightwing. It shows Dick at his lowest of lows, and shows that even the brightest and happiest of people can fall to the lowest of lows, but that it is possible to pick yourself back up again. That aside, that's not what Devin Grayson is known for. She's known for being the writer who allowed Dick Grayson to be fully R-worded when Dick was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, and the fallout of it isn't handled the best even for a comic run that took place in the 90's. Devin Grayson to this day has a pretty unhealthy view on what she did to Dick Grayson. DC Comics as a whole is not afraid to utilize every opportunity they can get to sexualize Dick Grayson and I understand the sentiment behind wanting to protect him from these types of writers, but at the end of the day, it's almost as if that this really is just a part of his character now. I can't think of a piece of media that he is in where he isn't a child that he is not sexualized. This is neither good nor bad. An adult or person who is of consenting age (Because yes different states/cultures practice different ages of consent and I'm not opening that can of worms) you should be allowed to look at and enjoy looking at media of sexy men in tight costumes and who have rippling muscles (if you're into that)

I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about Dick's portrayal in Young Justice. Because for many people this is their favorite portrayal of him. I didn't get into Young Justice until about the summer of last year and ho-boy, when I tell you I was not expecting this group of teenage superheroes to have House of Cards/White House Drama levels of manipulation, backstabbing, lying, and deceit. Part of what made Dick Grayson such a poignant and watershed character of the show is how transformational he is. He starts out as what I can only define as an immature goblin of a boy with insane fighting abilities and his hiding years worth of trauma behind witty catchphrases, when he steps into a leadership role for the first time and follows what he knows, Bruce's instinct, in finishing the mission no matter what, he's mortified, and swears he never wants to be a leader like Bruce.

Then season 2 and onwards happens. I wouldn't quantify Dick's transformation from smartass goblin to a literal Adonis of a young man puberty hitting him like a brick. I'd say a more fitting comparison would be puberty hitting him like the Chicxulub meteor hitting the Yucutan peninsula and literally triggering a mass extinction event. I cannot imagine the crushing chokehold this man had on the fandom once they revealed how he had aged from S1-S2. Part of what makes him so interesting as a character in S2 and onwards is that he knows exactly how attractive he is and he fully weaponizes it, hell, Dick has literally come into his own as basically a vigilante assassin who doesn't kill and he's only 18 in season 2. Even more than that, we see Dick fully blend into the leadership role and despite his previous horrors at Bruce and his methods, we see him so easily resort to his methods, and end up being almost exactly like Batman in terms of a leader and a hero, just more bubbly and talkative. When he realizes what he's become he steps back and abdicates his position. The storytelling in YJ is god tier and we see Dick truly as a fully fleshed 3D character, who, while is very confident, cocky, and physically handsome but also very kind and supportive. We see him fall down and make mistakes. We watch him backslide into becoming the one thing he promised himself he'd never become when he was put under pressure. All the while looking absolutely jawdropping while doing so. Also mad props to Jessie McCartney for voicing him. He goes from what I can only describe as chipmunk going through a pubescent crisis in terms of voice in S1 yet somehow does it in a way that's not downright obnoxious, to smoothly transitioning to how Jessie McCartney actually talks normally in real life and it blends so well.

I also need to touch on the DCAMU. Some of the movies were good, some were pretty awful. Yet I find their portrayal of Dick Grayson to be very interesting. It's this iteration that a lot of people cite when it comes to Dick's "player" tendencies. When in reality they should be sourcing Young Justice over this but hey. I've seen a lot of people disliking this take on Dick Grayson because he's not the best at fighting and he splits the absolutely cataclysmic power he holds between his brains and beneath his pants. This design is pretty iconic (and also very hot) for what it is, he's never looked bad in any DCAMU movie in my opinion and he lends well to a more 'adult' Dick Grayson. I know I just fawned and gushed about Jessie McCartney but we really need to give credit to Sean Maher, Dick's VA in the DCAMU. It's not as iconic or recognizable as McCartney, but it's a bit more adult while still having the lighter, chippier tonal inflection that Dick Grayson is usually associated with having and still sounding cool and above it all. Which is really interesting considering Maher edits himself quite heavily to voice Dick. Many may not know but Sean Maher is an openly out gay man who does have a prominent 'gay' "lisp". I'm not trying to offend anyone but just listen to how he talks during an interview and how he voices Dick Grayson. All this being said, Sean Maher is easily my favorite voice for Dick Grayson. He has a very comforting and reassuring voice that's both soothing and attractive. Which is funny because the DCAMU'S take on Dick Grayson tends to be a bit more light hearted but also focuses heavily on his humor and sex appeal. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's just more of the emphasis.

I'm going to touch on it lightly, mostly because you can find numerous biopics and analyses' on Dick Grayson and his anger. It's such a fundamental part of who he is as a character and it's often brushed to the side for the fact that he takes on the more 'adult' or 'first-daughter syndrome' roles that are assigned to him in the comics and fandoms. But it cannot be understated that Dick Grayson is a brutal vigilante. He's not the strict Kantian that Bruce is, nor is he murderous utilitarian that Jason Todd is, but he falls somewhere in between. I've stated before that Dick is very versed in all of Bruce's tactics and is even a better fighter than Bruce in some matchups. This makes Dick not only one of the like, top 5 fighters in ALL of DC Comics, but it also makes him one opponent you cannot underestimate. Yes he's talkative and nice on the surface, but Dick Grayson is an active decade volcano of a man (think Mouth Rainer in Washington State) he's this huge, towering force that is generally calm and majestic. However, with the right trigger or if pushed far enough, Dick will erupt and erupt VIOLENTLY. Dick's rage is white, searing hot and deadly. It's as frightening as it is beautiful and captivating to watch. If you have Dick Grayson truly angry at you, I'd debate you have more to fear from him than you do Batman. I mention it all the time but I'm going to keep mentioning it until it sticks. Dick Grayson literally mauled the joker to death with his bare hands and rage alone. This is the same kid who has every intention on doing the exact same thing to Tony Zucco. To this day, no media with the exception of Titans and Brenton Thwaites has really addressed this topic in a meaningful way (which can I say got-damn. Brenton can get it)

In conclusion. This has been a love letter to Dick Grayson as a character as a whole. I know there are still decades of media of him for me to consume and I did broadly generalize a fair deal. Dick Grayson is a literal mountain of a character. Breathtaking and full of such life and vibrancy. There's a lot that Dick Grayson is, and there's a lot that he isn't. He's a miracle and he's a menace. There's a tale of two cities playing out when talking about Dick Grayson and Nightwing both figuratively and literally. The story of the orphaned circus boy who grew to be the original sidekick and was so good eventually took the mantle on himself and performed brilliantly in Gotham. He's also the man who was the rebel that fought back against a strict parent and ran off to find his own way and become his own hero. Truly stepping out of the shadow of his predecessor, and became a full-fledged hero of his own accord and merit in Blüdhaven. We now are watching him as a fully fleshed-out adult man who has come unto his own as a billionaire (albeit he inherited the money from Alfred) and we're watching him try to use the money in a way to actually benefit society. Now comics are known for their progressive leanings but it's really interesting to see them be so on the nose with Nightwing and Dick Grayson. I'm interested to see where they take this plot because this is pushing very hard against a glass ceiling during a time of high political tension.

Robin was my childhood crush and one of my subconscious gay awakenings. He's a monument of a character who stands tall even despite numerous bad portrayals. With news coming out that a Nightwing live-action movie is in the works in the DCEU and potential leaks that we may see him as early as the Bat Girl movie. There's a lot to be excited for. With Dylan O'Brein being the rumored favorite for the role, I have a lot of feelings. Mostly mixed. He's proven his worth as an actor but there's a certain magic that Dick Grayson has, and truth be told I don't know if Dylan O'Brein has it. I don't want to count him out, but honestly, I'd feel as though Brenton Thwaites is probably the perfect live-action Dick Grayson because while he plays a darker, snarkier, more serious Dick Grayson. He has the look and that extra bit of oomf that makes Dick Dick. We'll just have to wait and see I guess, but like Nightwing himself, I'm looking at the future with optimism.

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

[cdroloisms]

haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.

Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,

hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*

this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess

tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content

In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.

With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.

“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.

Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.

Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.

Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.

Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.

Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.

He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.

They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.

They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.

“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”

“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”

Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”

He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.

“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”

Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.

“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”

“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”

“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”

“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.

“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”

The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”

“Dream…”

“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”

Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”

“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”

Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”

“But why?”

Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.

“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”

“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”

“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.

“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.

“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”

[diorbabe66]

Not just writing prompts anon.

I looked into the situation with rosemary subliminals, which you confirmed in a reblog who the rant was directed at, and I have a few things I need to put to light

This will be a kind of long post hawa, and I'm very sorry for putting this on your account! Probably should tag it as long post or non-loa

the companions

are the same thing, written with slight differences.

usually fitting the criterion of the tiktok eboy or the bad boy archetype. to list, they have tattoos, similar demonic features, and oddly colored eyes... and nothing else.

TW // violence mentions, t/rture mention

worth noting, they are also mentally ill and she nonchalantly talks about them being tortured, and absolving herself of guilt from this by stating that she cannot save them nor help them. she states that it is near impossible for her to move them out of there as its against the rules of the realm. as well as stating that, "it truly breaks my heart whenever i go to that place.", and yet constantly goes back to have tea or sweets with her tortured companions.

// warning over

they have the same personality; being unnaturally nice when they are supposed to be what rosemary called, "knife demons", which she had also said were usually known to be ruthless and violent... which is contradictory to one of her off-hand statements that the world she astral projects to isn't known / the statement that said that she was the first human to ever astral project to that particular world.

a continuitive thing with this is that they aren't describe like they are people. more like post-it notes from a wattpad writer + they had changed every photo of theirs in their community post after the earlier anon made the callout ask.

a lot of the companions, who act more like characters, have the same speech pattern and personality with little to no charactization. to give rosemary the benefit of the doubt there, she only gives small snippets of situations and scenarios.. which unfortunately for her were found to be common prompts in scenario generators + can be easily thought up by a teenager who's read enough wattpad fanfiction as it follows that exact pattern

dark demonic and mean person with a soft side for you // tortured soul who finds peace in you // someone who looks mean but is nice and funny

don't forget, conventionally attractive with black hair and usually accompanied by horns and tattoos

the companions are near the same thing with minor differences, and if you switch who said what with any of the "scenarios" she said happened, there would be little to no difference

what she tells her audience

is very little.

while she has made a post saying she is tired of sharing her experiences and her knowledge, she's exaggerating the exact information she's releasing.

she does not explain how to astral project, nor does she explain what certain things are. she doesn't reply to comments saying what she's saying isn't true with the basic rules of astral projection, and the comment disappears mysteriously soon after.

she makes plenty of contradictory statements. earlier above, i stated that she she said that knife demons are known to be ruthless and violent yet in a community post a day ago, she also said that, "most of the spirits i met there were really nice", in the same reality stated in the trigger warnings. she also stated its impossible for her audience to summon her companions... except that is possible so she's contradicting the basic rules of spirits and astral projection themselves

IN A VERY RECENT POST (which happened as i was writing this), she repeats herself again! at least this time, with more creativity. the third companion has similar traits to the previous two except now.. its the vampire archetype

now she astral projects into a vampire world with the conventional-how-you-would-expect a vampire to look (did i mention every companion of hers is a he/him with black hair and never normal colored eyes or did i forget that- oh wait)

this post was at least longer and less wattpad-istic but it is also very clearly a "checkmate antis!" moment. every post was edited after the anon who called her out made the callout, she admits they seemed like wattpad and then tried something different.. but its again, the same thing in a different font

some people who have astral project and practice it say some of the shit she says doesn't follow the basics either but we can't really prove that cause.. she doesn't even explain how she does it?? she just says she does

conclusion

i cannot say for certain whether she is or is not an astral projector

what i can say for certain is that the information she pushes onto her audience is dangerous, contradictory to itself, sometimes goes against some aspects of astral projection, and seems more like a lie that got progressively more suspicious and was getting called out for it on Tumblr of all places but you can't admit that to your 20.7k subscribers

- can i be the feather anon, im on laptop so i can't put it yet but like??

have a great day hawa!

oh wow😭and of course you can!

[alvhiedeir]

Title: Is that all you got?

Pairing: Indra x gn!reader

Tw: drinking, mention of sex within influence (both of them are so nonconsensual?), Language, nsfw-ish

Note: I literally typed this without drafts before sleeping so not proofread

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

When did things go wrong? There where many, many bad choices made last night. Which exactly, was the question.

Maybe when you agreed to go drinking with the other gods, something that you rarely do? But it has been a stressful few many days for you and drinking one or two might help with it.

Or maybe that's when things went downhill. Rather than one or two, you drunk maybe half the club's worth of alcohol. That sounded exaggerated but that's what the hungover felt like. After your first one, your friends' encouragement and teasing lead you to down one more.

And another.

And another.

And another.

'Till you can't tell what's louder, the roar of the crowd egging you on or your own laughter echoing around as you danced a little to provocatively.

Maybe that's what lead a certain Indian god to approach your drunken self.

Eyes droopy but mischievous, lips tugging into a smirk as you pulled him close to your body. Hips swaying just the right way to get him intoxicated but pulling away just as fast with a cheeky laugh.

And he doesn't seemed to mind your little game.

Oh no.

He loved it.

The ever so diligent and modest you, playfully messing with him. With lips painted with red and seduction, who in their right mind won't take the bait.

And so he played with you.

Hands on your hips and back, calloused hands tracing the skin revealed by your clothes. Just imaging how pretty it would look all bruised and covered by his marks. When you pull away laughing, he would follow, his own chuckles leaving his lips in a low tone.

Maybe this wasn't the sole reason for your predicament. But you're sure as hell this was a vital point.

Especially after your little game, you found yourself pressed against an empty hallway. The sound of the party nothing but a gentle him in the background as he stared at you, eyes ever so impatient.

He pressed his head closer to your, breath smelling thick of alcohol and cigarettes. His tongue darts out to lick his drying lips, all the while his eyes stared at yours.

Then he closed the gap.

Ah, maybe this was your worst decision of the night.

You were drunk. He was drunk. But rather than doing what any rational person - god if you will - would do, you didn't push him away and said this wasn't right. That you shouldn't.

Oh no.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper as it already is. Tongue seeking out his own to dance with. Greedy and hungry, you kissed back with such vigor as he did.

He held your head with one hand and the other claimed a spot on your back, pulling your body closer. Molding your body to fit his, wanting to feel every inch that you had to offer.

And you just laid yourself on a silver platter.

With a tug of his hair, you pulled back from the kiss. Your eyes took focus on his face, and shit. Was it just the lighting or he always this pretty?

His hair was a mess as per usual but both his eyes were clear for you to admire. It held a perfect amount of hunger, lust and admiration just enough to make your excitement to grow. But what got your legs shaking was his lips. Bruised and swollen from your bitting and beautifully decorated by your red lipstick. With each gasping breath he took, you can't help but to think how nice of a color it is to him.

And how he would look covered in it.

You made many bad turns this evening but this was the icing on the cake.

Swipping your tongue across your lips, you leaned forward to his ear. Teasingly taking the lobe between your teeth before whispering lowly,

"Is that all you got, Indra?"

And believe me, you have no idea what he can do.

So as you try to scurry to find you clothes scattered across the room (whose room you did not bother asking nor thinking as it will just intensify your own embarrassment), you can't help but curse at yourself.

"Fuck where are my underwear?!"

The ruffling of the bed sheets made you freeze on the spot. Head turning ever so slowly towards the sleeping figure on the bed, you almost let out a sigh of relief as he settled back into sleep after turning.

"Damn, looks like I'm going commando today."

You tried to look as presentable as possible before turning to leave but the memories of last night made you stop.

Was it just because of the lighting?

Curiosity will truly kill the cat.

As silent as your panicked self can be, you tiptoed to the bed and and looked at the god laying on his back, one arm on his head the other hidden under the blanket.

With all the courage that you (shouldn't) have, you peeled the cover away just above his waist and you had to say. Being drunk didn't deter your idea a pretty.

He did look pretty with those red marks.

With your curiosity satisfied, with a pounding heart you did your walk of shame with the only difference is that you're running.

And you thought that was the end?

Karma's a bitch and life loves drama.

And it's just so happen that you're their new favorite show.

A week passed after your little escapade, and let's us say you had to walk the long way over just to avoid a certain somebody. Even going as far as hiding in a closet for a solid 10 minutes.

And the one moment you had your guard down, he just happen to be there.

Against you.

Pinning you once again.

In broad daylight.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck"

"Look who it is."

His voice was both amused and taunting. His larger frame towering over you as he lean closer, the memories of that night resurfacing, along with the red ess of your cheeks.

He laughs when he notices the color on your face. His one visible eye filled with humour as he watch you try to push yourself deeper against the wall, as if it can swallow you.

"Why are you embarrassed now when you said and did a lot more than-"

"Indra!"

He barked put a laugh at your loud response, your cheeks tainting into am even darker shade at your own volume.

"I'm just here to ask two things, don't worry." Your eyes were weary but none the less nodded for him to continue.

And you probably shouldn't of didn't want to turn into a tomato.

"Is this your's?"

In his hands, he held up a black underwear, the one you left in a hurry to leave, unceremoniously twirling it in his finger that anyone walking by can see.

Your hands shoot out to grab the offending garment in his hands but he held it further from your reach. He smirked as you ended up leaning against his chest, face once again a few centimeters away from his own. And when you tried to pulled back he already had an arm wrapped around your waist, effectively cutting away your chance of escaping.

Sly bastard.

"Damnit Indra! Give that back!"

He smirked, a low laugh escaping his lips.

Sly, sexy bastard.

"I'll give it back, I just have another question."

You tried to reach for your garments once again but he led it higher and started twirling it again. One wrong move and it can fly away into the floor and someone might just-

"Fine! Fine! Ask your stupid question!"

You can hear your own pride shattering in the background but you swallowed to shards and stared at him.

He laughed again, and you swore if he laughed one more time you're going to throw hands.

"Calling it stupid is kind of mean."

"Just say it."

He smirked at your snarky reply, eyes starring at you so intently that your wounded pride almost let you whine.

He lead down his head, pushing you, once again on the wall. One arm on you waist, the other - still holding the blasted underwear - burried in your hair, holding it so that it stayed looking at him.

The same position the two of you were in before.

He swiped his tongue out licking his lips, all the while staring into you with those eyes. And for a moment it seemed like you two were back in that club. He slowly pressed his face besides your's, taking your earlobe between his teeth. His gentle nibbling making it harder to suppress the shaking of your body.

After a while, he released your ear, only to whisper lowly. Hot breath blowing against it.

"Is that all you got?"

This is a bad, bad idea.

But without the alcohol this time you had nothing to blame but yourself as you pulled him closer, eager to get another taste.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Rose Tinted.

Pairing: Yandere!Kuroo/Reader, Yandere!Kenma/Reader, Yandere!Akaashi/Reader & Yandere!Bokuto/Reader.

Word Count: 3.9k.

Synopsis: Life is stressful. It was stressful when you were your own person, when you were free, and it is now, when you’re relegated to a captivity spent in the arms of your four captors. It’s only natural that you adapt to your current life by modifying the details of your old one.

TW: Prolonged Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Mentions of Past Toxic Relationships, and Implied Non-Con.

Kuroo reminds you of your old roommate, sometimes.

It’s a sickening comparison to draw, but you can’t help yourself, not when you’re with him, not when he’s acts so much like her. Kuroo’s a morning person, and with his busy schedule and all the time he spends traveling, he tries to steal every minute he can with you, every second you’re not wrapped in Bokuto’s arms or sitting on Kozume’s lap or doing whatever Akaashi does, after he forces those little white pills down your throat and your mind gets too fuzzy to form memories, even if that means he has to fish you out of bed before sunrise, deposit you on the countertop, and mutter one of his favorite threats in your ear, just to ensure you won’t make another lunge at the knife block. You’re almost grateful for that last step. It gives you an excuse not to strain yourself, so early in the day.

It’s a vague link, but it’s there. In the way he hums to himself as he cooks, how absent-mindedly he moves around the kitchen as he puts together the meal you’ve watched him make a thousand times. He’s more rushed than she used to be, though. Whereas your roommate would still have one eye shut as she cracked an egg over a sizzling pan, Kuroo’s already fully dressed, even if his shirt’s slightly unbuttoned, his tie loosened and his blazer draped over your shoulders despite your attempts to subtly shrug it off. That was something she’d done, too, but differently, more innocently. She’d ruffle your hair as you collapsed on the kitchen island, commenting on ‘another late night’ or how helpless you’d be without her help. Kuroo doesn’t have to ask. He knows where you are, where you were, all the time, every day, and if there’s a lapse in your schedule he isn’t sure how to fill in, then you wouldn’t be watching him cook.

You’d be locked in a closet, left without food or water or warmth for however long it took for you to swallow your pride and admit that you’d spent two hours trying to break the deadbolt on your bedroom’s window yesterday, all while Kuroo sat on the other side of the door and congratulated you on finally being honest.

You almost don’t notice when the humming stops, Kuroo turning the stove off before he shifts, his eyes flickering in your direction while a soft grin tugs at the corner of his lips, more patronizing than endearing. You can almost bring yourself to hate him for it. In the moment, you think you do. “You’ve been awful quiet,” He starts, once you fail to say anything on your own. “Something on your mind?”

Lying to Kuroo is useless. Bokuto never catches it and Kozume doesn’t care, but Kuroo doesn’t allow it. He thinks it’s a sign of disobedience. He thinks it means you’re falling into old habits. “Just my roommate,” You mutter, hoping you sound disinterested enough for Kuroo to drop the topic. “She used to cook a lot, too.”

There’s a hum of acknowledgement, a collision of wood on wood as he opens the nearest drawer. Idly, you wonder if Kuroo can do anything without making noise. “Blonde hair, brown eyes? The same girl who always skipped out on rent?”

“She couldn’t keep a job.” You almost glance towards him, if only to smirk and tell him that, whatever he’s making, she would’ve made it better, but you stop yourself before you can. He wouldn’t like that, and as bland as Kuroo’s cooking is, your roommate probably would’ve burnt the pan beyond repair and left the mess for you to find, hours later. “It wasn’t her fault. She always got stuck with strict bosses, and she wasn’t good with schedules. She was really nice, though.”

Kuroo chuckles, taking a second to prod at your side. “C’mon, sweetheart, nicer than me?”

You don’t answer, but Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind. There’s another laugh, another prod, and he steps in front of you, positioning himself between your open legs and supporting himself against the cabinets lining the wall, caging you in. It’s probably supposed to be a playful gesture. It’s probably supposed to be, he probably wants it to be, but somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to feel so light-hearted.

When he raises a hand, you don’t flinch, but you have to fight the urge to recoil as he cups your jaw, tracing his thumb over your cheek. You don’t want him to touch you, but you know better than to push him away. “We’re in a good mood today, alright?” The question is soft, well-meaning, but you frown regardless, tightening your grip on the edge of the countertop. “No fighting, no tantrums, and no trying to get away while I’m gone. I know the others go easy on you, but when I come home, I don’t want to hear a word about your behavior.”

They don’t go easy on you. No one goes easy on you. Kuroo’s just too harsh.

Kuroo’s strict, but… he makes good on his promises. If there’s anything about him you like, it’s that.

Apparently, you take a little too long to respond. Again, you're forced to think about your roommate when he sighs, the same way she used to when you had to tell her you wouldn't be able to pick her up from that bar or go to this party, that you were too tired, that you didn’t want to see her face after working yourself to the bone so the two of you could afford to feed yourselves. Like she was disappointed. Like she had the right to be disappointed.

“I know you’re still getting used to this, but try to give it time. The guys and me, all of us love you, and none of us want to see you sulk. I’m not asking you to cheer every time I walk through the door, just…” There’s a pause, another sigh. Kuroo straightens his back, pressing a long, lingering kiss into the top of your head. “Just try to smile a little more, alright? I promise, I’ll make it worth the effort.”

Your answer is short, but you can still feel Kuroo’s smile against your skin. And, just for a moment, you think you might be grateful he bothered to ask.

“I’ll try.”

~

Bokuto reminds you of your boyfriend, in a certain way.

Out of all of your captors, his intentions are the most unquestionably romantic. Akaashi and Kuroo seem to think of you as more of a pet than a partner, and you’ve never been able to figure out what Kozume wants from you, but Bokuto’s straight-forward, Bokuto doesn’t feel the need to hide his intentions behind pretty words and selfish gifts and mantras about how much he loves you, even if the last still comes naturally. You don’t appreciate him for it. You don’t like him for it, but it makes Bokuto bearable. If you had the luxury of choosing a favorite, he’d probably be your first pick.

It helps that he’s still so convinced your relationship is normal. When he’s the one to wake you up, he lets you decide what you want to wear, and when he kisses you, you don't have to kiss back. You’re allowed to say no, with Bokuto. You’re allowed to refuse, and he won’t push you to change your mind.

Tonight’s an exception to that rule, obviously.

You think you’re in Akaashi’s bed. The sheets are white, tucked in a little too tightly at the corners, and the lighting is dimmer than it would be, if Bokuto’d had the patience to carry you somewhere more private. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you don’t have time to forget waking up. The jarring dip of the mattress, the strong hand on your shoulder, barely bothering to shake for a second before pushing you onto your back and pinning you down, thighs straddling your waist and his chest pressing against yours before you can do so much as open your eyes. You only realize it’s him, realize that it’s Bokuto when he kisses you, taking advantage of your stupor in that messy, clumsy way that always leaves you breathless and gagging. That leaves you hurt, more so than you would be if any of the others treated you so roughly.

He’s smiling, when he pulls away. It’s not soft and it’s not subtle, and it hasn’t faded by the time he finds your neck, latching onto the sensitive spot just above your jugular. If he had been your boyfriend, you might’ve laughed as his teeth graze against your skin, you might’ve found it exciting when he bite down. But, it isn’t. Your boyfriend would’ve asked, and Bokuto isn’t your boyfriend.

“I asked,” He cuts in, not waiting for you to finish. That’s fine. It’s expected, honestly. Bokuto’s like a puppy, too eager for his own good, a trait that borders on endearing at times, but only manages to come off as frustrating, now. “He’s always really busy, and you just looked so sweet, I didn’t know of I could leave you all alone.” There’s a laugh, abrupt and bright, the sound soon muffled against the crook of your shoulder. “Just an hour, alright? Then you can go back to sleep.”

“Kotaro,” You try, pushing lightly on his chest. It’s a futile effort, one that only results in a groan against your skin and an arm around your waist, but you try regardless. You’re not sure you’d be able to forgive yourself if you stopped. “It’s supposed to be Keiji’s turn and… I don’t know if he’d be alright with--”

That sounds like something your boyfriend would’ve said, too. Just an hour. Just an hour, then you’d be able to go back to sleep, or back to work, or back to whatever you did to pass time when you didn’t have any time to pass. And when you didn’t have an hour, when you tried to explain that, you two would spend an hour fighting, instead. At least you didn’t have to fight with Bokuto. He made that part easy, with his willingness to pout and cry and fuck you into the mattress with tears in his eyes because, although you could say no, he doesn’t care if you do. It just makes things easier when you don’t.

“I-” Again, you’re interrupted, the words fading into a small, high-pitched shriek as his canines sink into your shoulder. And you’d just gotten your hopes up that he might let his last set of love-bites heal without interruption. “I don’t want to do this.”

Now, that makes him pull away. It’s almost surprising, how little relief there is to accompany the gesture, how much guilt comes with having to meet those wide, glassy eyes and swallow the apology playing on your tongue. You didn't apologize to your boyfriend, not the last time, not the most important time. Or, your ex-boyfriend, you guess. You’re pretty sure you broke up with him, or he broke up with you, or someone said something that made you angry enough to storm out of his apartment and into Bokuto’s waiting arms, Akaashi beside him with a length of rope and a needle full of sedatives. 

His voice shakes when he speaks. ”Are you… Are you mad at me, again?”

You aren’t. It’s hard to be mad at Bokuto, and you’re so tired of always doing the hard thing.

“Wouldn it matter if I was?” You mumble, falling back onto Akaashi’s bed. “It’s not like you’d listen to me.”

You’re looking at the ceiling, now, but there’s a shift, a slight change. Soon, you can’t feel his weight on your chest, and you have to suppress the urge to mourn his stifling presense. “I’d try to.”

You almost wish it was Akaashi on top of you. At least then, you might be able to believe he knows he’s lying. “You wouldn’t,” You sigh, trying to sound exasperated. Trying to sound genuine. “If you listened to me, you would’ve let me go, by now. If you really loved me, I wouldn’t still have to tell you how much I hate it here.”

Less than a month ago, you’d yelled the same words. Screamed them, repeated them, told Bokuto how much you hated him and his friends and everything they’d forced onto you. Now, it’s all you can do to say them with enough strength not to crack under the pressure, not to give into the temptation to throw yourself at his chest and claw until he’s the villain again and you’re helpless, just an uninvolved bystander in your own suffering.

To your credit, it’s a fleeting urge, one that’s gone by the time you roll onto your side, away from Bokuto, curling into yourself as he settles against your back. There’s a heavy sigh, another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His arm wraps around your waist, but there’s no attempt to drag you closer, no attempt to go any further. You almost wish he would.

It’d be easier to cry yourself to sleep, if you could blame him for forcing you to.

~

Akaashi reminds you of your co-workers, all the time.

He spends so much time working, it’d be impossible not to draw the connection. He smells like an office, like ink and metal and more chemicals than an editor should use, and he feels like one, too, his skin always cold and his hands always quick to clamp down around anything warm and kicking and alive. It reminds you of the receptionist who used to give you a hug every morning, a sourceless gesture that was always a little too tight to be comfortable. Of Kuroo’s handshake, when you were first called back after your initial interview. You suppose he has more right to the position than Akaashi, you must’ve worked under him for months, but Kuroo invited you out for drinks, he made small talk, he could take off his suit and defrost when he wanted to.

Akaashi couldn’t. Akaashi can’t.

That, or he won’t, and you don’t know which option scares you more.

It doesn’t help that he works so often, either, even when he’s home. You can try to block it out, try to ignore the constant click of his keyboard, the occasional creak of his chair whenever Akaashi tries to reposition himself, but there’s only so much you can do on his lap, your arms strung over his shoulders and your face buried in his chest, your sleep-deprived mind momentarily forgetting its distaste in favor of seeking out as much comfort as it could.

That might be what drives you to speak, to break the silence as Akaashi bows his head, his lips brushing against the dip of your shoulder while his hands fall from his laptop to your hips. As always, his touch is cold, unnerving, the shirt he’d forced you to borrow doing little to protect you from the chill. “I hate you.”

There’s a tap to your side, a noise of acknowledgement. “I know, angel. You’ve mentioned it before.”

“So much,” You go on, your voice muffled by his sweatshirt. “More than the others. Every night I fantasize about slitting your throat and stuffing one of your stupid toys in the wound. I still have a scar from that fucking collar.”

This time, you get a hum, low and absent-minded. “A small one,” He adds. “Kenma’s done worse, and I’ve already apologized.”

He has. This is an old argument, one you’re still mad about, but one you know you’ll never resolve, not with someone so apathetic. So, you try a different approach. Not something more honorable, but something different. Something that wouldn’t leave a coat of ash on your tongue, hopefully. “My friends probably think I’m dead by now, my family too.” It feels good to say, but it feels awful, at the same time. Like you’re admitting defeat. Like you’re submitting to the same man who's been whispering those very same words to you since your first night spent in his loving care. “Even if I get out, you’ve already ruined my life. I won’t have anywhere to go back to, not a job, no place to--”

“That’s a good thing, right?” It’s an innocent question, judging by his tone. You try not to take it as one. “You always hated your job.”

It’s almost a reflex to defend yourself. “I never--”

“Yes, you did.” If it was Bokuto, you could’ve told yourself he’d been fed a lie, or pushed into a delusion that featured you as a damsel in distress and him as your big, strong, brave hero. If it was Kuroo, you could’ve told yourself that he wanted you to believe you hated your job, your old life, everything he was kind enough to rip you away from. Kozume would’ve been uninterested enough to stop the conversation before you started to spiral, but you’re not talking to Kozume, or Kuroo, or Bokuto. You’re talking to Akaashi, and Akaashi doesn’t care whether or not you’re happy. He doesn’t have a reason to lie to you, not about something so mundane. “That’s why we had to take you home. You were too stressed, I was getting worried.” He pauses, his hands moving to your sides, pulling you away from his chest. You don’t resist, but you don’t look up, either, not until he cups your cheeks in his palms, his voice suddenly going from sterile to soft in the space between one breath and another. “It was painful to watch, it was painful for all of us. I know it’s hard to see from your perspective, but you used to cry so much, and you were so close to falling apart. We just did what we thought would help.”

“So you decided to kidnap me?” It’s the harshest you’ve been in weeks, even if you barely manage to raise your voice. You grab his wrists, but you don’t try to jerk him away. Instead, you settle on digging your nails into his skin, and in return, Akaashi ignores your minor show of rebellion. “You’re not doing me a favor. You’ll never convince me I want this, because I don’t. If you have to tell me I’m happy, it’s only because you know I’m not.”

“You’re not happy, but you’re happier than you used to be.” He doesn’t try to make light of the revelation, but his neutral expression still cracks, leaving the smallest smile in its place. Not amused, but not sympathetic, either. Not malicious, but certainly not kind enough to spare your feelings. “It’s easier, and I think you know that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just couldn’t handle life without a little help.”

You pull away, jerking your head out of his hands and crossing your arms in front of you, putting as much distance between you and Akaashi as you can. “You’re lying. You’re lying, and you’re not even doing it well.”

You can feel him let out a breath of a laugh, leaning forward just enough to push a kiss into your temple before drawing back, content to admire the long-awaited results of his work.

“Of course I am, angel.”

~

Kozume doesn’t remind you of anything, and it’s unbearable.

You’d worked with Kuroo, intimately. He’d introduced you to Bokuto, and you’d met Akaashi at his games, even if the two of you never shared more than a few polite niceties about the match at-hand. Kozume’s the only one who’s new to you, he’s the only one who’s just your kidnapper, even if he fit the role well. You can’t sympathize with him, because there’s nothing to sympathize with. You can’t understand his irrational connection with you, because he’s never bothered to offer an explanation. It shouldn’t upset you as much as it does. It shouldn’t be as awful as it is. He shouldn’t make you feel as disgusting as you do, but he does. You don’t know why, but he does, and you can’t forgive him because of it.

It’s almost a relief when you wake up alone on the edge of Kozume’s bed, tucked under heavy black sheets with sunlight already spilling through the open window. You consider rolling over, trying to go back to sleep, but you can already hear a lock clicking in the distance, light footsteps moving over wood as Kozume steps in, leaning against the doorway as he watches you start to stir. You’re purposefully lethargic, taking the time to sit up and rub your eyes until it doesn’t hurt to blink, but Kozume’s content to stare on. Part of you hopes you’ll get used to it, soon. The rest of you tries to smother the idea before it can spread.

“Mornin’,” He calls, when you make it clear you’re awake. He’s dressed, not formally, just jeans and a hoodie, but it’s more than you’ve come to expect from Kozume. Somehow, it only makes him seem more alien. “I’ve got few meetings today, Tetsuro’s out of town, Bokuto’s training, and Akaashi doesn’t get off until this afternoon, so you should have the house to yourself until sunset, at least.” There’s a glance to the floor, a quiet laugh. Despite everything, he can still seem shy when he wants to. “If you promise not to break anything, I could forget to lock you up before I leave. It’s not like you’d try to get out, anyway.”

“I would.” It’d be a damning confession with anyone else, but Kozume doesn’t blink twice. He’s already made up his mind, which means nothing you say matters. “I hate it here, and all of you know that.”

“Maybe, but you wouldn’t leave.” His voice is calm, his tone playful, but Kozume’s eyes narrow as he steps forward, and you square your shoulders, trying to glaring at the sheets rather than him. Still, you can feel him hovering over you, making you squirm as he goes on. “I mean, why would you want to? It’s not like have anything to go back to. Hell, from the way it looks, we might’ve been the only ones who stil pretend to miss you.”

“Of course I’d want to,” You snap, trying not to ball his sheets in your fists, trying not to acknowledge how reasonable he sounds, trying to ignore the part of your brain screaming for you to calm down before you make things worse for yourself. “I have a family. I have friends. I have a life outside of lying down, closing my eyes, and letting you live out whatever sick, perverted fantasy you’re trying to--”

“That’s not what I asked.” He doesn’t try to talk over you. He doesn’t have to, not when there’s already so little strength behind your argument. “You should want to escape, but…” Finally, his smile falters, but the unbothered frown that takes its place is no less comforting. He shrugs as he speaks, and you have to fight the urge to shrink into yourself. “Do you?”

You open your mouth. You open your mouth, then you close it again, then you close your eyes and drag your knees up to your chest, glaring childishly at the mattress, behaving exactly how they want you to. Kozume doesn’t try to push you any further. He doesn’t ask another question, he doesn’t force you to anwer, only sighing as he drapes an arm over your shoulder, slotting himself against your side, holding you. It’s cruel of him to do. It’s a small mercy. It’s nothing, it means nothing, but he’s mocking you, at the same time, belittling you, humiliating you. You hate him for it, but at the same time, you’re not sure you can. You’re so tired. You’re so, so tired, and you’re not sure you can be anything else, anymore.

You’re not sure you know if he’s wrong, anymore.

[2-cute-4-school]

NCT Dream reaction : another member scares you

Tw : near drowning scare, lots of bugs??

Mark Lee

donghyuck loves teasing mark

you’re mark’s s/o

results : donghyuck loves bullying you

congrats you get a free pass to cry with me cuz donghyuck is ruthless

but you learnt to live with it so it’s okay most of the time

until his friendly teasing involved a quite deep pool and your unprepared form being swung violently into it

so when you submerged underwater and didn’t come back up, mark forgot everything else and dove head first into the pool

his spiderman senses kicked in thank god

donghyuck saw his life flash before his eyes ⊙△⊙

when mark dragged you to the surface and hoisted you out of the water with donghyuck’s help, you took your sweet time before coughing violently

you gotta suck the life out of that dramatic effect ya know

mark coddled you the entire day, embracing your trembling form and keeping hyuck away despite his attempts to apologize to you :<

this man would spend an entire lifetime just taking care of you and smothering you with no complaints i swear cause you became like the centre of the universe for him ಥ_ಥ

writing music? thinks of you ; eating watermelon? y/n would like it ; showering? we could have some fun

but once he tucked you safely into bed and made sure you comfortably fell asleep after a scare that shortened both your lives by 10 years

WWIII commenced （ノ♯｀△´）ノ~’┻━┻

markhyuck summer fight pt.2

Huang Renjun

there’s ONE(1) thing you and renjun totally agree on

scary movies can suck your di- └( ͡° ︿ °͡ )┘

but the other devil spawns ( read dreamies ) decided you deserve suffering their enjoyment blame them

so you’re settled on the couch between china line with renjun trying to keep his macho man facade give up jun we know you’re babie (♥ω♥*)

but still feeling you tremble like a leaf beside him melted his lil heart :((((

so he kept a hand on your knee the entire time, rubbing random patterns on your leg in an attempt to soothe your nerves

the atmosphere became so tense, any hint of conversation dying once everyone was immersed in the movies, an eerie silence enveloping you

but when dear angel chenle decided to shriek in your ears and dig his fingers in you sides let me tell you gals

you jumped out of your skin

and spoiler alert : didn’t land back on the couch

cue dolphin noises

but when you looked up at renjun, a deep pout settled on your lips and glassy puppy eyes ( つ᷄.̯σ̣̥᷅ ) he saw red before his eyes

“YAH ZHONG CHENLE YOU WANTED SCARY MOVIES?!? I’LL GIVE YOU A SCARE ENOUGH FOR YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, YOU RASCAL !!!1!1!!”

no one dares to scare/hurt his baby and escapes unharmed no exceptions sorry

after he taught chenle the lesson of his life, it’s cuddle time!!! (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

he spoons you protectively and smothers you in a TON of kithes until he’s content with hearing your giggles  :>

Lee Jeno

you made it your personal mission to find a way to eradicate all bugs

no cap

and jeno just nodded along to your endless rambling about your strong dislike towards them

let’s be honest here, he was internally gushing at your cuteness like your biggest supporter (　◠ ◡ ◠　)

so when renjun dangerously nears you without a common garden bug  he found during your picnic with the dreamies in between his fingers and sticks it in your face with the hugest shit eating grin (ര̀ᴗര́)و ̑̑

you let out the loudest screech and scramble to throw yourself in jeno’s arm who acted like your comfort blanket by now i’m so soft for jeno can you tell????

and he just 「(°ヘ°)

‘my baby?? scared?? the nerve of some people?? gotta!!!show!!them!!no one!!!NO ONE!!!messes with my baby!!!’ (｀Д´)

so he just pats you head lovingly and rubs your back until you calm down enough to let go of him

and then he leaves the cutest *smooch* on your forehead and gets up

he walks calmly towards renjun who was pretending to occupy himself with smoothing down a blanket and just...cracks his knuckles kaneki style

jeno just grabs the biggest bug he was able to find and grips the hem of renjun’s sweats harshly

wanna know what this gangsta beach does?? he frickin throws the bug down poor renjun’s pants

and then just leaves his unfortunate victim thrashing and shrieking for his life and retreats back in your arms like the terrifying baby he is

don’t mistake his softness for you as weakness!!1! he becomes ruthless when it comes to you :<

Lee Donghyuck

he’s already ruthless enough

so please PLEASE for the love of God don’t give him a reason to become even more of a devil spawn

but poor jisung didn’t get the gist bless his pure soul 🐣

you weren’t even that scared when you opened your phone to an remarkably ugly image of a cockroach (basically the same prank that was done to fetus jisung some time ago)

but you still let out a shriek loud enough to alert haechan

and while haechan seemed silent while he smothered you, his mind was going highwire which is NEVER good  (￣ェ￣;)

*time skip to the next day*

3 times

3 TIMES DID JISUNG SEE HIS LIFE FLASH BEFORE HIS EYES IN A SINGLE DAMNED DAY and he’s never been the same since

so when he barges in the living room where sweet innocent hyuck is seated on the couch with you cradled in his lap while feeding both you and himself and watching netflix 

jisung has a fit it was damn time baby chick

“you put cockroaches in the shower, in my cup AND on my pillow, do you want me to die young??!!?”

“they’re fake tho”

“I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WHEN I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK”       ⊙﹏☉

eventually jisung retreated to put some shoes on and leave the dorm for a breath of fresh air after the near-death experience he encountered

“i feel bad for him” you took pity on the kid alright

“don’t worry your pretty head”

and he just kithes the heck out of you and automatically deleted all your worries once immersed in his sweet lips who could resist him tho

until another scream echoes

“IN MY SHOES TOO?!? YOU KNOW WHAT, I MIGHT JUST MOVE OUT”

Na Jaemin

we all know jaemin enjoys photography

and you’d be a fool to believe his camera roll is not ABSOLUTELY FULL of pictures of you both candid and not

he always insisted he takes photos of things he loves or are beautiful and you’re both and even more ✿♥‿♥✿

that’s how some of your hangouts turn into mini photoshoots whenever jaemin was in the mood

and that’s how you found yourself modeling for jaemin while the other dreamies were lunging around

“i’m frying over here, can you hurry up?”

“not my fault my baby is the prettiest unlike you gremlins, hyuck”

“what’d you say?!!?!?!!” lowkey ready to swing

jaemin doesn’t spare him a second glance, he can only focus on you :>

“hey honey can you climb on that ledge for me?”

he helps you like the gentleman he is to climb the stone ledge, one hand clutching yours and the other gripping your waist softly (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

so you’re posing, focusing on the camera when you feel a hand tightly clasp over your ankle

and jeez do you scream so loud hyuck was left fried, insulted and deaf

and you can’t even step away from the ledge before jaemin envelops you in his arms and clutches you tightly to his chest

“aigoo aigoo~ my baby it’s okay, nana is here”  in the softest voice possible (๑´ω`๑)

he smooths down your hair, petting it affectionately and as he leans down to smooch your forehead he meets eyes with a sheepish jeno who peeks over from behind the ledge

and jaemin just stares him down with that disappointed mom look 

and jeno just knows he won’t be getting any dinner tonight

but jaemin’s head is full of you you you did i mention you? so he can only coo at you and smother your entire face in little kithes :<

“you’re the absolute cutest and all mine, my cute baby” *bursting uwus* *fake gagging noises in the background from hyuck*

“so candidate no. 2 without dinner tonight huh?” hyuck: “wait no pls”

Zhong Chenle

power napping is your favorite kind of date with chenle

just curling up against each other wherever you two could fit and spooning or just cuddling or even just holding hands if the weather was too hot

okay but just imagine chenle holding someone’s hand while he sleeps i’m ded just imagining it x.x

so it’s already understood that you’re a sleep lover who isn’t tho

and while you fell asleep, chenle still had to wash the dishes after a meal with the dreamies

jaemin being the affectionate person he is cooed over your cuteness and couldn’t help himself from throwing himself beside you on the bed and jumping on it while screaming your name (basically the same thing he did to chenle :)))) )

but unfortunately you were a quite light sleeper and easily startled when woken up suddenly and not so gently  ( ͠° ͟ʖ °͠ )

so you let out a chocked noise that immediately alerted chenle who returned to see you staring at jaemin like a deer caught in headlights 

“ah hyung why would you do that? you scared them like that”

chenle whined as he pushed jaemin away who retreated with slumped shoulders and a pout don’t worry jaems we love you

and chenle just slips under the blanket and brings you closer to lay down together and soothes you ༶ඬ༝ඬ༶

and he just embraces you, tangling your legs together and hiding your face in the crook of his neck while he runs his fingers through your hair comfortingly chenle would make the best cuddle buddy no take-backs

“shh it’s alright, just go back to sleep, i’ll stay with you” (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

with chenle’s assurance and tight grip on your body to bring you as close as humanly possible, you fall back asleep as chenle stares fondly at you

and that’s how chenle escaped washing dishes *ha suck it losers*

Park Jisung

jisung blames mark

mark is his oldest hyung and the supposedly most responsible debatable among them

so how could his leader scare you to tears and then dump your shaking figure for him, the baby, to take care of (ノ-_-)ノ ~┻━┻

jisung could only stare at you as he hovered above your curled up form

“y-y/n, come on, there’s nothing to cry about, hyung didn’t mean it”

*mark facepalms* *sm building facepalms* *the white house facepalms*

mark just motions aggressively to jisung to rub your back 

and jisung pales as if mark suggested going to a haunted house *sigh* jisung you absolute clueless baby

he SUPER HESITATINGLY pats your back awkwardly, but you only curl up into yourself even more

mark pushes jisung to sit down beside you and prompts him to comfort you properly and jisung gulps

“sooo, how are you feeling?”

*well done jisung take a guess you sharp tool* (－‸ლ)

mark is just boiling with worry you might just dump jisung after his worryingly poor attempt when your small voice cuts through

“can you please hug me, sung?” (●´^｀●)

jisung.exe has shut down please retry in a moment

“s-sure, yeah, just-”

but you just slot yourself in his lap and bury your face in his shoulder 

jisung.exe is overwhelmed by your cuteness pls spare him

but he eventually wraps his arms around you too and just rubs up and down, occasionally massaging the nape of your neck gently

“this is actually nice, can we stay like this please?” (⺣◡⺣)♡*

you just tighten your grip on him in response

and jisung rests his head on top of your head to hide his reddening face away but also to hold you even closer because despite his shy demeanor he cherishes you so so much so please have patience with this baby

mark just shakes his head from the doorway with a fond smile knowing that you’re just right for each other (︶ω︶)

[small-teacup]

Kidnapping? I Think You Mean Human Borrowing

Requested by: @languortears

Notes: I'm so sorry I took so long!!! D: It's a bit rushed

Ships: Intruloceit

POV: 3rd person

TW: Kidnapping, sympathetic Remus and Janus, panicked thoughts, mention of torture, skeletons and implied blood, impersonation

Let me know if I missed any, please! :D

Word Count: 1367

“That’s KIDNAPPING, Remus,” Janus explained for the 43rd time that day.

Remus opened his mouth and held up a finger, ready to say something in response before he paused and lowered his finger slightly. He seemed to have multiple ideas, instead keeping his mouth open and looking like he would finally get a few sentences out of his mouth before deflating. It was comical, to say the least. Janus sighed and shook his head, “Take your time...”

After what seemed like forever, one word managed to escape Remus’ mouth, “Borrowing.” “What?” “Kidnapping makes it sound like we’re doing some kind of crime!” “IT IS A CR-”

“What I think you meant was ‘human borrowing.’”

Janus groaned and put his face in his hands. “You know what? Fine. Human borrowing.”

================

Logan sat in his room, peacefully typing away on his laptop. Just a normal day. Nothing different, nothing new, just the same as it was the day before. He actually liked the lack of change, despite his ability to adapt to circumstances easily. Well, he’d usually be able to adapt to new circumstances. As he was working, someone came up behind him and clapped their hand over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. It didn’t seem to be needed since Logan wouldn’t have screamed anyways. Nothing could hurt a side in the Mindscape. He was about to see who it was until something hit him over the head, darkness quickly taking over his vision as he went limp.

He woke up tied to a chair in what seemed to be a basement. There was barely any light besides a flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling right above him. He looked around, unfazed at the shackled skeletons on the wall or the suspicious red stains on the floor. Someone suddenly covered his eyes from behind, shrill laughter filling the air.

“Guess whoooo!~” They sang, disturbingly close to Logan in a failed attempt to make him scared.

“Judging from your behavior, I’m guessing Remus?”

“Nice guess, Logan. But no, it’s Janus.” “What?? How?” Janus uncovered Logan’s eyes and stepped in front of him, a little mischievous smile playing on his face.

“I imitated Remus’ voice and attitude to trick you.”

Logan frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “But what was the point of that?”

The deceitful side shrugged and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know. There really wasn’t any. However, I find it a bit amusing considering the fact that Remus is sitting right next to you.”

“What?”

Sure enough, when Logan turned his head, Remus was sitting like a puppy on the floor next to him. He gave the logical side a seemingly menacing grin, revealing his razor-sharp teeth. Logan simply blinked at him before looking back at Janus, much to Remus’ disappointment.

“Is there a point to any of this?” He asked, half-heartedly tugging the ropes that bound him to the chair. It wasn’t that he was making an attempt to escape, it’s just that it was starting to feel uncomfortable.

Janus had summoned himself his own chair, a velvet one with hints of gold. He crossed his legs and examined his nails boredly, which confused Logan even more since he was wearing gloves. “Ask Remus, it wasn’t my plan this time.”

Logan glanced to the gremlin next to him, sighing. “Before I say anything to him, do you mind if I ask you one more question?” “Go ahead, darling.”

“You don’t seem to be lying to me at all. I’ve seen that you only lie around everyone else except Remus, which leads me to infer that you don’t lie to people you like. Do you like me in some way?” Janus froze up, a light blush finding its way onto his face. “No I don’t! Why would I like you? That’s impossible, you’ve got it all wrong. Stupid…”

He crossed his arms and looked away, huffing. It was supposed to be him and Remus getting Logan all flustered, not the other way around!

Logan turned to Remus, “So why was I kidnapped?” “Not kidnapped, you were borrowed!” Remus corrected. “...That doesn’t make sense.” “It makes perfect sense to me!”

“Answer my question, please?” “Oh! Yeah yeah yeah- so, when the others come to save you, we’ll have this epic bloody fight! Or maybe not...I dunno. And then you get saved, BUT we get to torture you until they get here! And it’ll be so fuuuuuuuuuuunnn!!!”

Logan blinked, then sighed, “I doubt there’s anything you can do to ‘torture’ me. Besides, the others aren’t coming anyway.”

The duke’s face dropped as he suddenly stood up and leaned close to Logan, his hands gripping and clawing into the chair arm. “HUH???!”

Janus had been listening to the conversation, even if it seemed like he wasn’t. The unexpected taste of truth surprised him, causing him to turn curiously to the pair in front of him.

“The others aren’t coming,” Logan repeated, assuming that Remus just didn’t hear him.

“What do you mean??! They have to! They’re your friends, aren’t they?? Plus, that sounds REALLY depressing. How’re you so okay with it??” “I’ve simply accepted it. It just seemed to be the logical thing to do. I can’t change it anyway.”

Janus said, almost a bit too calmly, “And do you think that’s a normal thing? That your friends won’t come and save you?” The logical side shrugged, “I guess not. You can’t really blame them.”

“Elaborate.” “...No,” he muttered, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the floor. Remus deflated and sat on the floor, resting his elbow on the chair arm. The next few moments were a blur for Logan. ‘They weren’t coming. I could be anywhere, dangerous or not, and they wouldn’t care. I could be dead and they wouldn’t notice. The Dark Sides might not be able to kill me, but torture is not out of the question. Mental torture, I mean. I could try and pretend that it doesn’t affect me, but I’ll eventually break and when I show my weaknesses, they’ll laugh. They’ll laugh and treat me like a joke and at that point, I might as well duck out because everyone knows that Logic is essential but Logan isn’t and they’ll be so glad to have someone else in my place that they won’t miss me at all…’

The voices around him were becoming muffled as he sank deeper into his thoughts. How much time had passed? It felt like hours already… There was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t get rid of, considering his hands were tied behind him. In fact, he was starting to lose feeling in his arms. Was he panicking? Spiraling? But what caused it? Why was he feeling this way? Why now? What’s happening-?

“LOGAN!”

The sudden shout pulled him out of his thoughts, looking up at the two sides that stood by him, concern and worry clear on their faces. Only then did he notice his shallow breathing and the tears slowly streaming down his face. Before he knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around him in a warm hug. Without thinking, he latched onto the person, recognizing the smell of trash and about a thousand years of no showering. Wait- what? He was surprised at the sudden freedom. When did they cut the ropes? Nevermind that…

A gloved hand cupped his face gently, the scent of crisp apples and linen going along with it. He leaned into the touch. It felt..comforting. It felt like home. Maybe this was where his home really was..?

“Remus? Janus?” The two sides looked at him, a silent cue for him to go on.

“..Can I stay with you guys? If that’s alright.”

Remus let go and stared at him wide-eyed. He looked over at Janus and back at Logan. It seemed like Janus was doing the same.

“Of course you can-!” The deceptive side blurted out before clearing his throat and pulling his hand away, inspecting his nails that he couldn’t see. “I mean- I suppose you could.”

Logan laughed, to both the dark sides’ delight. It sounded magical like bells ringing.

Never in Logan’s life had he been so glad to have been kidnapped.

(This fanfic wasn't proofread and neither was this post-)

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Regular: Part 1 - Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re a dancer at a club, but that doesn’t mean you have to put on a show for everyone. Especially not if Geto’s paying. 

word count: 2.6K

tw: nudity, small nsfw thoughts

Lipstick? Check. 

Eyeshadow? Check.

Eyelashes? Check. 

The eyes that stare back at you are your own, but for a minute, you’re lost in your own brown, doe-eyed gaze. Transfixed, you wish you could see what they saw when they looked at you. You wish someone would fix every mirror in your vicinity to display the person people thought you were. Maybe then you’d understand. 

“Y/n!” The manager of the club - Mrs. Lampton - bursts through the dressing room door eagerly, pushing against the weighted frame with ease. “We have a lot of new faces out there. Are you ready to go on in ten?” The look in Mrs. Lampton’s eyes had never been brighter, and you blink at her twice, wondering if the woman had forgotten that you walked into the strip club without coercion, and you would do your job just the same. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The rhetorical question makes Mrs. Lampton laugh, her amusement ringing out in the mostly empty dressing room. 

“You’re funny, girl. I’ll make sure they play your favorite songs.” Without another word, she leaves, and you’re alone again, placing a single pastie on each nipple. New faces… 

You hadn’t seen very many new people in the club since you’d been hired three months ago. It was always the same four men that came to see you during your weekday four o’clock shift, and a mix of the same faces during your ten o’clock dance on Friday evenings, when the club was full of men looking for an escape between the valley of your B-cups. 

There was Aiko, the man who had completely given up on love and decided to get his affection from you when he got paid every two weeks with a simple lap dance. Then you helped Kohi with his fantasies: he had admitted to you that he could only fuck his girlfriend with his eyes closed and couldn’t think of anyone else except the girls in the club, you especially. Takeru was no different, just a little more handsy than you had originally expected when allowing him into the VIP room. And finally, you had the pleasure of meeting a new regular named Yuma just last month. Yuma was young, bright-eyed, and had a carefree attitude that also affected his wallet. Out of the four, he was the best tipper and admittedly, the sweetest… but those were your only four regulars. 

The rest of the dancers at the club had at least enough regulars to count on both hands, but you were stuck with the smallest group. As such, you were given the shittiest shift, but you didn’t mind. The pay was enough to make up for rent and some extra expenses, but during the day, you were dedicated to working with your aunt in her flower shop. 

You saw an array of men there, too, and the regulars there were almost as frequent as the ones here. Thankfully, this club was on the other side of town - the richer side - and you would go unnoticed in your ink black wig and heavy makeup in the dim lights. 

You adjust your garters in the mirror, and slide the matching black lace bra over your pasty covered breasts. Tonight, there are new customers, and one of the new faces might potentially become a regular. Your regular. 

You swing the door open and walk through the blue-lighted hallway to the carpeted space before the stage steps, watching the girl before you - a tall, thin blonde named Hannah - slide down the pole upside down, earning a few cheers from the gathered crowd. You don’t get to see her finish due to the obstructed view as you gather your towel and spray it with rubbing alcohol, but you do hear the DJ call her name as she exits. Hannah brushes past you without speaking, shaking her head at the wad of cash and solid red bra in her hands. 

“Slow night?” you ask, and she turns around to face you, her blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. She raises a brow and then - in a rare show of kindness - mumbles: 

“There’s a real spender in that crowd, but he wants nothing to do with me. Watch out for those blue eyes; they’re really distracting.” You whip your head back to look at the pole, your fingers tightening around the damp terry cloth. When you look back, Hannah is disappearing into the dressing room, too far gone to ask about the blue eyes comment. 

Barefoot, you step up the stairs, and the DJ croons, “Next up is our loveliest newbie, y/n…” A slow song begins as you work your way around the pole with your towel, cleaning off any and all dirt and grime left behind from the previous girls with seduction. It was simple, really: twirling your hips and dancing around the pole was enough to make even the most stoic man soften. You were every man’s fantasy in that moment: a cleaning whore. When you finish your work, you find the cold, slick surface of the spin pole, and work your way up, feeling the pressure against the tops of your bare feet. It wasn’t unusual for you to leave with slightly bruised ankles or a “pole kiss” at your thigh. But it was all worth the extra money. Bruises faded away. Bills did not.

When you invert and grab the pole behind you, there is a sense of calm as you spin around like a siren, looking for the infamous blue eyes. It isn’t until you’re back on the floor that you see them - he’s across the room, eyes staring directly at you with white furrowed brows perched precariously above them. 

As you keep track of the single dollar bills being deposited on the stage in front of you, you notice another new face beside him, leaning in to whisper something while his eyes flick away. When you fan kick around the pole twice, you see the face - black eyes and black hair in a half-bun - turn towards you with a smile. The smile isn’t innocent, but when were smiles in the club anything less? You return the smile with sincerity, finding the two men completely captivating. 

But you have other customers to attend to; most notably, Yuma. His cherub face and tender green eyes are watching you from the bottom of the stage, his face in an entranced smile. 

“Y/n!” he yells over the music, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. You dismount from the pole and crawl on your hands and knees toward the youth, whose lips quirk up in a playful smirk. 

“It’s good to see you here,” you breathe, dropping your voice an octave to seem more alluring. Yuma buys it hook, line, and sinker - as he always did - and slides the dollar bill between the garter and your see-through stockings. “See any good movies lately?” you wonder, letting him pet your leg tenderly. 

“You’ll really like the newest addition to the Hanged Man trilogy,” he begins, eyes roving over your figure salaciously. Yuma hooks a finger around your garter and gives it a gentle snap;  you huff out a laugh before rolling your neck around. “I’ll take you to see it, if you want.” 

“That would be so nice,” you purr back, arching your hips until he can practically feel your ass pushing into his hand. “I would love nothing more than that.” 

“I’ll buy a dance tonight and give you the details.” Yuma knows his time is short and waves a hand over your spine before retreating, his eyes staying with you as you unfurl from the floor. You have no intention of meeting Yuma outside of the club, but you have to admit that if you hadn’t met him in here, you probably would have attempted to pursue him. 

A fast song means that you’re coming to the second part of your three-part dance, and your fingers make quick work of your pointless bra. When it drops to the ground, you can feel eyes drawn to your unclothed upper body grinding on the pole. Your eyes flick back to the blue-eyes man in the corner, and you find he’s alone staring at his phone in the darkness. 

Why is he even here? you wonder, hooking a leg around the metal before swinging your back leg up. As you swing around with your head leaned back, you catch his handsome companion at the bottom of the stage, arm muscles rippling under his white button down. He’s counting his money, you realize, and take that as a sign that he might be beholden to making a generous donation. It isn’t until he holds out two hundred dollar bills that you stop, and he places it on the stage, patting it twice. You make your way back over to the stranger, eyeing him carefully under your heavy eyelashes as he leans in to speak. 

“Very generous,” you note, and he gives a sheepish smile as he tucks the bills into the side of your g-string. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You can call me Geto.” His voice, calm and strong, washes over you like a burst of fresh air, and you notice he doesn’t seem nervous at all, despite appearing shy. 

“You can touch me,” you offer, but he places both hands back on the stage, staring into your eyes. 

“I’d rather do that privately. How much for a VIP room with you for the evening?” Your eyes flick to Yuma, who is happily downing a drink at the bar and settling his tab. 

“I… have one dance I have to --” 

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Another one-hundred dollar bill slides across the stage. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Another bill. “All of this,” Two more bills. “for one night.

Six hundred dollars. That was three times as much as you made on a regular night.

“And take this off.” You think he’s going to tug at your lingerie, but instead, he tugs a strand of your wig, and you frown. 

“I…” 

“Your real hair is brown.” He offers, raising his brows as if to challenge the denial working its way up your throat. You are a brunette. 

“P-pay the red-haired lady at the bar. Tell her you’re requesting the VIP room with me,” you stammer.

“I’d rather make sure all the money makes it into your pocket.” Your mouth dries up, but you have to finish your last song. The man notices your nerves, and jerks his chin at you slightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “No worries. I’ll see you in there.” 

As you’re wiping down, you feel your chest constrict slightly. Takeru and Yuma were the only ones who had actually been in the VIP room with you, but that had only been twice in your three months there. They had paid the bare minimum - two hundred dollars - to see you fully naked, touching yourself in front of them and allowing them to spread you bare for observation. There were no holds barred in there except fucking, but if this man could afford to drop three times the amount it cost to reserve the room for himself… Mrs. Lampton would most likely let him do as he pleased. For a moment, you consider Yuma being disappointed and downtrodden that you couldn’t give him at least one lap dance before the end of the night, but you had to go with this new stranger, if just for tonight. 

“Hey, y/n…” Mrs. Lampton pokes her head into the dressing room again. “The VIP room is ready for you. Your client is in there; you’ll be alone, as requested.” Not even a fucking security guard.

The stairs up to the absolutely private area are steep, but you somehow wobble your way up there in your red, satin teddy and black robe. When you open the door to the room, the wall maps give a soft golden glow to the space, illuminating the couches and mirror on the back wall. One-way glass separates you from view of the other patrons down below, now enjoying another show from another girl. Usually, a security guard would post himself on this side of the wall, observing the free show with the stoicism of a statue. 

But tonight, it’s you and Geto. He lazes on a couch, both arms splayed across the light brown fabric as you enter the room. His black eyes follow you as you pad toward him, watching his every move. You stop in front of the man, locking eyes with him as you undo the tie at your waist and let the silk robe fall to the ground. His lips part and he spreads his legs, beckoning you forward with his right forefinger and middle finger. 

Silently, you make your way to him, planting yourself between his long legs and looking down. “Kneel.” Your breath hitches in your throat, but you sink to your knees anyways, keeping your eyes on him. As he leans over you, you think the worst is about to happen and squeeze your eyes and mouth shut. When his fingers find the nape of your neck, you flinch, but feel your hair tie slide off of the braid in your hair. He smells like sandalwood - you note - much unlike the other men you encountered in the club. They often reeked of booze and smoke, or something much grimer. 

His fingers work their way through your locks, separating the strands with ease before retracting. Your hair cascades around your face like a curtain, and he leans back, resuming his previous position. “You can dance if you’d like.” Instantly, you rise from the wooden floor and begin running your hands up your waist and to your chest, swirling your hips around to the sensual music playing through the speakers. Geto observes you with a tilted head, squinting his eyes when you play with the feathered hem of your teddy. You don’t lift it over your head, opting to tease him to his limit instead of giving him exactly what he wanted right away. 

His black eyes roam over your figure repeatedly, watching your hips sway and fingers wind into your hair without changing. He leans forward when you take a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him calmly. You step back into his reach, and he shifts suddenly, startling you so bad that you stop moving entirely. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, adjusting his seating. “It’s a little uncomfortable to sit like that right now.” You let out a nervous chuckle and resume your movements, unsure if you’re ready to remove your lingerie or not. “I’m not going to ask you to take it off.” The admission makes you pause, but you continue to dance anyways. 

“Why?”

“Why would I?” He tosses back, shrugging.

“You get to see everything in here. That’s what you paid for, right?” 

“I paid for you to dance for me alone. I want a private show; not something anyone can watch for free.” 

“Do you want to touch me?” 

“Not yet.” 

And he didn’t for the rest of the time he spent there that night. Before he left the room, he pressed a couple of hundreds into your palm then opened the door and walked out. You had never experienced anything quite like it, but with the extra cash in your hand as you walked out of the club, you prayed to the stars that you would see this unicorn just one more time.