#and he did not even accomplish what he was trying to do either

[starlightshadowsworld]

Coffee for 2 (Don’t be late)

Pre-Stormbringer oneshot where Hirotsu is Iceman’s mentor (inspired by @whathorselegs)

The mission had gone off without a hitch. The intel had been secured. The bodies left with the cleaning crew.

A job well done and now all that was left was to indulge himself for just a moment. But the smoke around him coiling with that of the blood stained floor didn’t give him that same sense of accomplishment.

No, something was amiss.

He stamped out the dying cigarette as he thought. It wasn’t the mission, that’s for sure. The Boss hadn’t summoned him either, none of his men had needed to be accounted for.

Except that is for his ward.

A cursory glance at his watch made him frown. In the Port Mafia you were never to be late if you could help it. Even if it was only a mere minute or two, every second mattered.

In the Port Mafia to be late was to be in trouble. And trouble was one that Port Mafia members were to cause, not the ones to be afflicted by.

Hirotsu knew that and so did his ward. He taught him everything he knew, and then some more. He lit another cigarette and hummed to himself.

So his ward had landed himself in trouble? So much for the quiet night in.

______________

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to send me a text.”

Iceman didn’t look up from where he tucked away in the corner of the cafe. But Hirotsu spotted the flicker of amusement in his eye even from the door.

The youth of the day.

As he sat down a mug of coffee was placed before him. He thanked the waitress before she silently left, probably with the rest of the staff.

It wasn’t a building that the Port Mafia owned but it was still part of the territory.

It’s rather cosy atmosphere and the old record player spinning tunes from Hirotsu’s youth made it a place many of the Port Mafia wouldn’t wish to venture into.

It was however the perfect place for Iceman. Hirotsu would know for he showed him the place years ago.

“I had to ensure you’d come” replied Iceman pleasantly. He looked the picture of relaxed, as if this was nothing more than a simple chat.

“Perhaps” Hirotsu sipped his drink before remarking “or is it because you didn’t wish to be tracked?” His mentee closed his eye “I could never get one past you, could I?”

Hirotsu chuckled “and yet it never did stop you from trying.” He placed the mug down and rested his hands on the table. “Do you wanna know what I’ve gathered? Or will you make it easier for me and talk?”

Iceman responded by simply leaning back ever so slightly in his chair and giving him an expectant look. Really, Hirotsu couldn’t recall ever teaching him such theatrics.

“You’re in a spot of trouble or rather you will be. You’re on the fence, mulling it over and need a deciding vote.” The other great thing about this place was that it was rather old fashioned.

Thick walls as close to soundproof as one could get. And not a single security camera in sight.

“You could ask your club mates for advice but they’re all involved.” He reached for cigarette and Iceman did the same. Twin flames burst to life before them and in the smoky haze they met eye to eye.

“So you came to me.”

Iceman held his gaze steadily. His face nor his voice betraying anything as he remarked“you got all that from 2 minutes.” Yet he didn’t deny it in the slightest.

Hirotsu raised an eyebrow in question. “But what I can’t understand is why, care to enlighten me?” The mug was set down as Iceman rested his hands on the table. “It’s about the kid, the sheep kid.”

He was silent for a moment before asking “when you look at him? What do you see?”

Hirotsu considered him for a moment. “When I fought him last year, I saw a mirror. Loud, abrasive with the power and confidence to back it up. It was like looking at myself at that age.”

“What changed?”

“I spoke to him when he was imprisoned. Away from battle and prying eyes and you know what he asked of me? To light a torch where his friends were being kept.”

He could picture him now, dirty and angry as he stubbornly refused the meal in Hirotsu’s hands. Despite it being clear he hadn’t eaten anytime recently.

‘I wouldn’t if I were you. It may not bode well for your captive friends.’ It was like a switch had flipped. The anger was ever present but there was a touch of fear. Chuuya had never looked so small before now.

But they never do at first.

‘…Hey old man…’ He’d called when Hirotsu went to leave. ‘Just, turn on a light…they’re scared of the dark. I won’t fight ya, but they deserve that much.’

“I saw not a king but a kid. One who let others may have drawn their own conclusions. But lying would do him nothing here. He wouldn’t even have known if the torch was lit. But knowing fed him better than any feast.”

Hirotsu smiled, his eyes warm and fond. “If anything, I see more of you in him than me.” Iceman scoffed “I think you’re getting your memories muddled old man.”

Yet there was no bite to his words.

“Maybe, but it stands to me now it doesn’t really matter what I see in him. Because he doesn’t. If I may be so bold, I’d say he has not a clue of who he is.”

That got Iceman’s attention.

He leaned forward and his voice dropped to a soft whisper. “And what if he could?” And with that admittance it all fell into place got Hirotsu. Why Iceman needed a deciding vote and why he was here at all.

He lit his cigarette and smiled “well then I’d say he’s lucky to have such friends.” Iceman stared at him for a moment before returning the smile.

“I won’t be late next time.” Hirotsu scoffed “sure, we’ll have to see. I think you like dragging me across the city without any rhyme or reason.”

His mentee shrugged half heartedly “I learned from the best.”

Hirotsu sighed before his voice turned serious. Even without needing to speak, Iceman sobered up and looked at him expectantly.

Good to know he still knew that much.

“How many bullets do I have left on me?” Asked Hitotsu, holding it up but even without looking Iceman knew. “There’s 3” came his careful response as he Hirotsu have a silent nod.

3 shots straight to the chest. That would undoubtedly be followed by breaking their jaw on the pavement. Because that was how the Port Mafia disposed of traitors.

The gun was placed back in its usual place.

“I have nothing scheduled this week. I would hate to waste any.”

And there it was. The scolding that Iceman had all but asked for. The unsaid warning as if he didn’t know exactly what he was getting into.

But one he welcomed in a strange way. And the next time the two met for coffee, Iceman walked in right on time.

[handfulofmuses]

bradford when he tried to take himself with the turtles down but instead got horribly mutated

[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[ltleflrt]

Figuring out I'm on the ace spectrum was so difficult because I have always been a horny bitch. I knew what sex was at a fairly young age, because I'd asked my mom and she's one of those good parents who'll answer questions like those, and as I grew older and would ask more complex questions, her answers would evolve along with my curiosity and understanding of the world. And I remember having fantasies as young as 9 or 10 years old, even if they were hella vague and nothing close to what sex actually is lol

So as I became a teenager, and all my friends' focus turned from playing with dolls to flirting with boys, I automatically thought I was attracted to boys. And I paid more attention to Cute Boys than I did to Cute Girls, because girls were just nice to look at while boys were People To Have Crushes On. Because of heteronormativity. Looking back on it now, I know there were girls I liked to stare at just as intently as boys, although less often because I wasn't trying to pay attention. And I certainly didn't fantasize about girls because I started reading romance novels in 5th grade, so I was fantasizing about male romantic partners because that was the fiction I was consuming. I didn't even realize fantasizing about girls was possible until I was 17, and I had a few "am I a lesbian" internal crises for years because of it.

So when I did start having sex, I had A LOT OF IT with SO MANY different guys, and eventually a couple of women once I started accepting that bisexuality was real. But it was never really fulfilling. Not like my fantasies were. Not like my books were. I was slutty because sex was fun, I was horny, there were plenty of options so I kept searching for that satisfaction I was craving.

Getting married was a relief (even though it turns out I'm aro-spec too lol) because I was tired of hunting, and even if sex with my husband was meh, at least I had someone around to scratch that itch if I had it, and he didn't mind if I occasionally took care of things on my own because I'd read an especially hot scene in a romance.

I learned about asexuality in my early 20s, but I brushed it off. Couldn't be me, I'm far too horny for that. But I think that comes from the fact that everything you hear about Aces is attached to sex-repulsion or sex-indifference. I wasn't either of those things. I was horny all the dang time. I was fantasizing about sex all the dang time. I figured actual sex was meh because my imagination was so vivid that real life could never match up. Which could be true to an extent, but I think not as much as popular opinion would have us believe. If fantasy was really that much better for everyone, then I think we'd have less incels and unplanned pregnancies than we do.

In my 30s I finally saw people talking about The Spectrum, and I started examining my past, and I figured out I wasn't really attracted to anyone I had sex with. I do occasionally find someone attractive; there are men and women and enbies who make my skin feel tight and give me a little wave of lightheadedness lol... but it's always always the fantasy that gets me really going. If given the opportunity I wouldn't have sex with any of those people. Thank you, but no thank you, I'd rather just imagine it than physically participate in the act with them.

(Ok I might go down on them, but that's less about wanting sex, and more about being able to add them to my Tally. Hell yeah I want to brag about making *insert hot person* have an orgasm. There's PRIDE in that kind of accomplishment lol)

I have a lot of respect for aces that are not horny. I understand it even if I don't share the sentiment. And I feel like most of them understand me even if they don't share the sentiment. There's a solidarity between us.

Until I go into a fandom tag for a character that the aces have glommed onto because they're canonically ace or headcanoned as ace. Good lord, the non-horny aces can turn into downright vicious bastards if a horny ace sexualizes their blorbo.

This post is for them.

Horny aces exist. Please look up "autochorissexual, lithosexual, and aegosexual."

Refer to those definitions in regards to romantic attraction as well as sexual attraction.

Some aces may not fall into one of those definitions, because asexuality is a spectrum, but they may still be horny.

Horny aces are not disrespecting you by enjoying being horny on main. We promise we'll wash the stickiness off our hands before we hold your hands in queer solidarity.

And most importantly: Your blorbo is fictional and does not need to be defended from icky sexuality. They exist in an infinite multiverse, so your blorbo and my blorbo are not the same, even if they appear to be on the surface.

AND:

This post is also for the people who are confused about themselves because they're horny but don't actually feel attraction. You're not crazy, you're not wishy washy, you're not "waiting for the right person to come along" (unless you are, in which case I hope you find them). You're just a thin strip of color on a massive rainbow that holds more unique shades than anyone can perceive at a glance.

You're valid. You're one of us too.

And don't be mean to the non-horny aces. Tag your smut so they can avoid it. (But actually so I can find it lol)

[tomboy014]

Tamaranean Siblings, Part 2!

After the Body Swap incident, Phantom and Starfire get close.  Really close.  Turns out swapping bodies breaks down a lot of boundaries, and unlike Raven, the two have bonded.  Starfire has always been a hugger, and she’s taken to carrying Phantom around like a teddy bear. Phantom is used to having a red-headed big sister, and ever since his parents worked the ecto-deflectors into their jumpsuits, he might maybe be a teensy bit touch starved.  He loves to sprawl over Starfire whenever they hang out together.

It’s driving Robin up the wall.  Phantom knows he’s been crushing on Starfire for a while, and he goes and does this?!  He can’t help but get more brusque with Phantom, to the point it starts to interfere with group dynamics, and it prompts even Starfire to tell him off for it.

Danny confronts Dick privately to tell him off for being a total dingus.  As far as the two of them are concerned, Kor’i and Danny are basically siblings now.  He’s knows Dick has a crush on her;  that’s why Danny has been trying to talk him up to Kor’i so she’ll give him a chance, and his attitude is not helping.  Dick needs to CHILL OUT!

Robin: … Who?

Phantom: You live with her for pete’s sake! How do you not know her first name?!

This is also where it comes to light that Robin/Dick doesn’t actually have any dating experience.

Robin is a super popular super hero, leader of his team, and supposedly smooth and charismatic.  Dick Grayson is the adopted son of Bruce frickin’ Wayne and beloved by the public. Danny’s at the bottom of the social ladder and he still got a date with the most popular girl in school. Twice!  How are you this bad at girls? 

Either way, things with Robin start to calm down and the group dynamic returns to normal (though Danny will never let him live down his lack of love life).  But things in the training room start to heat up. 

Starfire and Phantom now have a much better understanding of each other’s limits, and the gloves are off.  The whole tower shakes whenever the two of them spar together, and they’re both experimenting with new ways to use their energy powers after seeing how the other uses theirs.  Phantom even manages to give Starfire a black eye for the first time, and she’s ecstatic! It’s a Tamaranean thing.  In their culture, it’s an accomplishment when a younger sibling to visibly injures the elder sibling for the first time.  It shows how much the younger has grown and how well the elder has taught them.  Starfire is super proud and posts it all over SpaceBook.

But Phantom has ulterior motives for pushing Starfire the way he has been.  No one knows his strengths like Starfire does.  More importantly, no one knows his weaknesses the way she does.  If there’s anyone who’d know how to stop him…

Phantom asks Starfire to be his contingency plan, and explains everything that happened in The Ultimate Enemy, about his future self, what he did, and how terrified he is if he one day becomes that.  If that ever happens, he wants her to be the one to take him out.

Don’t try to talk him out of it.  He already gets it enough from his friends and sister that it won’t happen.  That he’s a good person.  He doesn’t need to worry about that, etc.  He’s heard it all before, but��� None of them have actually agreed or promised to end him if it does happen.  And if it does… his friends are only human, and they couldn’t stop him before.

Starfire agrees.  She can see how important this is to him, and she won’t lose Danny to a dark path the same way she lost her sister.  The wave of relief that washes over him breaks Starfire’s heart.  These must be the horrible feelings that led him to develop the Ghostly Wail.

Still, she is confident that this future won’t come to pass because he chooses not to let it happen.  She, too, has been flung forward into a bleak future, but she knows nothing in the past, present or future is set in stone.  She fought and changed the future with her own two hands.  She’s knows Phantom is strong enough to do the same. 

While Dick and Danny were never really good at staying in contact with each other, Kor’i is and keeps up her relationship with Danny even after he “retires.”  She knew months before Dick of Jason did that he took the job at Arkham and is happy for him.  It may not be the career path he wanted, but he found a good job and a way to still help people without his powers. 

<<Prev

[taintedtort]

" BOYFRIEND! "

summary. them as your boyfriend

characters. kenma, hinata, nishinoya, kyotani, akaashi

warnings. gn!reader, post!timeskip

a/n. some headcannons idk. did more characters bcus it’s just random stuff.

KENMA

☆ the type of boyfriend to shower you in gifts. he isn’t the best with words and physical touch doesn’t come easy to him, but he always knows what you like. (plus he’s rich)

☆ he plays close attention to you, always assessing your mood and your needs.

☆ lazy days at home > date night out

☆ likes when you watch him play. it makes him feel nice when you praise him after beating a particularly hard level.

☆ calls you a nickname/your name or the occasional "baby"

HINATA

☆ loves loves loves when you come to watch his games, he makes sure to try extra hard and show off even more than normal.

☆ he loves to hug you and hold your hand. i like to think he has warm hands, but downside is that they sweat easier when it’s hot outside.

☆ if he’s taller than you, he won’t shut up about it. if not, then that’s fine too!

☆ isn’t shy about PDA and gives you cheek kisses all the time.

☆ "i love you more"

☆ calls you "babe"

NISHINOYA

☆ travels with you everywhere, he loves seeing the world with his true love!!!

☆ his camera roll is literally just filled with you.

☆ lowkey i think he’s good at photography. takes the best instagram photos.

☆ arm around your waist 24/7.

☆ matching necklaces and or bracelets.

☆ calls you something stupid sometimes like "pookie" but would ACTUALLY call you "baby" on a regular basis.

☆ specifically for girls, i might go a step further and say he’d call you "mamas" lol

KYOTANI

(im obsessed with him lately)

☆ not sure if he’d be into much PDA, but if someone’s flirting with you i think he’s definitely the type of guy to put his arm around you and send death glares.

☆ you’re not safe from his scowling and gruff remarks, but he’s a bit more behaved around you. just a bit.

☆ his touches are a bit rough; he holds your hand a little too firmly, hugs you a little too tight, and kisses you a little too fiercely. he’s passionate and aggressive at heart, that doesn’t change around you.

☆ sucks at giving gifts. the present itself isn’t bad, it’s just the way he gave it to you. either just leaves it out for you to find, or practically throws it at you totally unwrapped or anything.

☆ he doesn’t talk about you often, and his teammates only find out you’re together when they see his lockscreen of you.

☆ loves waking up next to you and grumbles when you have to get up.

☆ calls you "dumbass" and things like that ngl. maybe an occasional "hon" ?

AKAASHI

☆ you guys are regulars at a diner/cafe. don’t ask me why, i just get that vibe with him.

☆ holds your hand all the time.

☆ secretly likes when you steal and try on his glasses, even if he sighs and shakes his head at you. he thinks you look cute squinting through the glasses at him.

☆ forehead kisses. doesn’t matter where or when, you’re getting one.

☆ touches your hair a lot. either brushes it out of your face or just plays with it when you’re both relaxing.

☆ really uplifting of your accomplishments, no matter how small they are.

☆ likes watching you cook, and also helping you cook. but he‘ll do the dishes, of course.

☆ calls you "love" and "sweetheart"

[aphel1on]

Dungeon Lords and the Human Need for Connection

When I came across these panels again the other day, it got me thinking about dungeon lord parallels again.

...And I spiraled until I was writing my thesis statement about how All Four Dungeon Lords (Yes, Even Laios, Stop leaving him out of these discussions) Are Actually the Same.

Firstly (because on some level everything is about Thistle to me) I thought about how the lion could have very likely given Thistle a similar offer when his loved ones started losing their souls/rebelling/etc. And yet, there is no sign that Thistle ever accepted such an offer, nor any sign that he used magic to forcibly change people's opinions, the way Marcille briefly threatened the party with while she was dungeon lord:

Instead, he ended up with the fucking dining table that drives me insane. Which probably means that either Thistle rejected the offer, or the lion sensed it wouldn't go over well and didn't even try it.

Making replicas of people doesn't seem to be an uncommon part of granting the dungeon lord's wishes. In his time, Mithrun actually took the demon up on it:

(Not pictured; the infamous lamia-version of his love interest.)

What makes Mithrun different from Thistle and Marcille in this instance is that Thistle and Marcille both became dungeon lords for the sake of specific people. Both were motivated by the terror of losing their most important people, and both told themselves everything they did was for the sake of protecting those people.

Because they were motivated by genuine love, copies or mind manipulation were not palatable. I think Thistle even in the late stages of his madness probably would not find these to be acceptable solutions. No matter how twisted, possessive, and obsessive his love became under the dungeon's influence, it was still from the fear of losing those original, irreplaceable people that he was doing all this. Even as his relationship with Delgal and the other Melinis fell apart over the years... even as he was left with only their soulless bodies... he would still rather cling to whatever was left.

Perhaps on some level, Thistle recognized the same thing that kept Marcille from following through with her threats:

Even in the state of endlessly chasing their desires as dungeon lords, they couldn't feel truly okay accomplishing it that way.

For Mithrun, meanwhile, the people in his fantasy world were a means to an end. It was all-encompassing insecurity and the pain of not being wanted that led him to become dungeon lord. His desire was not fixated on any specific people - it was broad enough and desperate enough that anyone could fulfill it. The thing is, Mithrun prior to becoming dungeon lord was by all accounts well-liked. But his emotional walls were up so high that not a single one of his admirers could make him feel known and cared for. The kind of crushing perfectionism he exhibited in that stage of his life often comes with a silent and equally crushing imposter syndrome. No one actually knew him, because Mithrun didn't let them, even though every aspect of his personality then was a desperate plea to be seen and liked. I think the sad truth is that, by the time he became dungeon lord, Mithrun didn't truly believe that happiness was something that could be found in other people. (It's telling that his wish was for a world in which he had never been discarded; perhaps for a world in which he never felt the need to put up those masks.)

In this respect, Mithrun is actually more alike to Laios than he is to Thistle and Marcille.

Laios was told again and again by the world that it was wrong to be who he was - that he was unlikeable when he acted the way that came naturally to him. The lion didn't bother asking Laios about replicas; those would be meaningless to him. Like Mithrun, Laios had lost all hope of being liked for who he was, but took it one step further: Laios had lost hope that he could find happiness in the human world entirely. At that point, all he wanted was an escape. To leave the pain of the human world behind and become someone, something, different. All he really needed in order to be tempted into it was the assurance that his friends would be safe.

All four of these stories have a pretty obvious throughline when you think about it: the deep, intrinsic need for human connection and what happens to someone when that need cannot be met.

All four of them were starving for connection. All four of them experienced alienation and isolation that made them desperate enough to turn to the demon.

Marcille (a half-elf whose unstable aging left her without peers) and Thistle (raised as the only elf in a kingdom of humans) both formed intense attachments to the few people they did become close to, and went off the deep end from fear of losing them.

Mithrun and Laios were both rejected by others for aspects of themselves that were out of their control, and tried to cope by developing masks that left them unable to feel accepted by the people still in their lives.

...So it's fitting, then, that genuine human connection is also what saved all four of them in the end.

(Thistle is a little arguable here; I personally don't think he died, but even if you do believe he died at the end of the manga- Yaad being able to connect and empathize with him is what gave him peace and solace in his final moments.)

Dungeon Meshi is about alienation and connection as much as it is about food and cycles of life. (Or more like, these themes are masterfully intertwined - food is used to represent love and connection over and over again. But that's a whole essay in and of itself!)

[asdfghjklartblog]

Confessions of a Rotten Girl

Trans masc reader x yandere batfam

Part 1, Part 2 (here), Part 3

TW: Neglect and slight gore

So I finished this A LOT faster than I anticipated. But I was kinda obsessed with writing more so I just kept writing. Anyways have fun! Happy reading! It’s around 6.2k words so sit back and relax! Also Luke is probably ooc but like, I will definitely try to do better about that in the future.

Living here is… Rough to say the least. Not long after being introduced and dumped onto Bruce’s lap, you were put into a preschool. So not only were you in an unfamiliar home, but you were also going through new experiences, while trying to accept that your Daddy was gone.

On top of that you and Dick don’t really get along, and you’re not sure if the two of you ever will. If the two of you aren’t fighting you two are outright avoiding each other. But you were able to piece together enough information to find out why he was so angry all the time! He also lost his parents. So, you tried to bond with him over that. However this was a terrible idea, but you were also 5, and you just wanted to bond with the stupid boy. It isn’t much of a surprise that the two of you ended up on the floor pulling at each other’s hair and hitting anywhere the two of you could reach. The two of you were just duking it out for less than a minute before Alfred catches you two and scolds you with all his might. After that the two of you avoided each other like the plague, only interacting with each other when necessary, like during galas.

Bruce wasn’t much better, he was cold to you. He never talked to you and would only interact with you during social events like galas. It hurts to see that your father didn’t want anything to do with you but it would be fine. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

What hurt the most however was seeing the two of them happy. You had heard from Alfred that initially Bruce and Dick didn’t have a good relationship either and kept getting on each other’s nerves. Bruce’s seriousness and Dick’s sassiness didn’t really go together. At least not at first, but you guess that eventually Dick grew on him, and now you see Dick smiling and talking about all the things he accomplished and the latest drama at school, while Bruce listened fondly. You sigh wishing you also had someone that cared about you just as much as Bruce cares about Dick. You wish you could bring back the person that did do that.

At least in preschool you had someone that cared about you, his name was Eric and he had fluffy brown hair and green eyes with freckles dusting his skin. He was your best friend, he invited you to sleep overs, showed you his collection of dinosaurs, shared the treats that his mom packed. You two were partners in crime. So it was heart breaking when he just stopped talking to you when you guys went into first grade. But you made more friends, at least you think they’re friends? They’re kinda mean, but they spend time with you and laugh with you when you make mistakes. But they never invite you to their birthday parties and always say such mean things.

You mention this to Luke one day when he comes to visit and he is immediately pissed. He then looks at you and says. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, next time they’re making you feel bad? Bite them, lick their hand, say something hurtful, whatever. What’s important is that you gotta fight back y/n. Only pussies take it lying down.”

You look up at him and ask. “What’s ‘pussies’?”

He cringes when he realises his mistake. “Don’t worry about it y/n. Just do what I say.”

You did as he said. The next time one of your friends was being mean, you yelled at them. “Only pussies take it lying down!”

Which made some of the older kids at the playground gasp as the girl that was being mean to you yells. “What does that even mean?!” And although neither of you knew what it means, you both new is was some kind of insult.

She then pounces on you like a cat, trying to scratch and hit you. The two of you tussle in the playground, and the teachers that were lazily talking were now rushing toward you and the girl. It takes about 5 adults to try and pry the two of you apart, and in the crossfire the teachers were also scratched and bitten.

It’s not a surprise that Bruce and the girl’s parents are called right after. You and Bruce sit next to each other as the two of you wait outside the office. After minutes of just silence he sighs and looks at you, disappointed. “Why did you do this, and who said violence was the right answer?”

You look at him, annoyed and confused as to why you’re the one in trouble. “Well, she was the one who jumped onto me like some evil cat.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at you and says. “It doesn’t matter who did it. You can’t just fight someone like that, you have to talk through-”

You look at him as if he’s insane and reply. “She came after ME! What was I supposed to do? I could’ve been a lot more hurt like that! I had to fight back!”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath before saying. “Yeah? Was it also ‘fighting back’ when you tried to push her down the stairs?”

You gasp at what Bruce is implying and replies. “She is such a liar! I did not push her that was her own fat feet’s fault! She started it!”

Bruce stands up suddenly and rubs his temples before saying. “Y/n. You will apologise to her and you will mean it. Do you understand me?”

You try to argue saying that it really wasn’t- okay some of it was your fault but not all of it! “But I’m not lying she really did-“

Bruce then crosses his arms and stares you down before saying. “I said, do you understand me y/n.”

You then look down to your feet and nod, tears welling up in your eyes. When the girl’s parents come out with a disgruntled look on their faces. They try to scold you for being so rough with their ‘precious’ Amelie who had a smug look on her face. However you’re not really listening as your mind drifts off, imagining how you could tear her apart. Bruce then makes a coughing noise as a reminder to pay attention and nudges you forward. You sigh and look at Amelie who still has that smug smile on her face before Bruce says to you. “Go on. Apologise.”

You look at her straight in the eye before saying. “I’m sorry… That you’re so DUMB! You should go-“

Bruce clasps a hand over your mouth and smiles at the parents as he says. “She’s usually not like this.” He then whispers Into your ear. “If you don’t apologise, you WILL be grounded with no screen time.”

You send a glare his way before looking back to the girl. However as you look her you’re your face turns into one of shock as the girl, which you now know as Amelie, which is a STUPID name by the way. She isn’t even French, she’s just regularly stuck up. Anyways she starts crying crocodile tears as she says. “Why are you so mean? I just wanted to get to know you… I’m sorry.”

You don’t care at this point. Not about the situation, you still care about that. But you don’t care what Bruce will think or would do. No matter what, this girl is going down. You bite Bruce’s hand hard and he hisses in pain while he recoils. You then charge at Amelie and punch her in the face, her parents and Bruce look on in complete shock. She falls on her butt, and she looks at you surprised that you had the nerve to actually do that. Her nose then starts to bleed as real tears start to spill from her eyes.

Needless to say, both Bruce and Alfred were incredibly pissed. But you were proud of yourself, and that’s all that mattered. Well, it also helped that Luke was also very proud of you, in fact, he was so proud that he took you out for a day at the arcade! Under the false pretence that he would take you to the library to study. Bruce and Alfred had absolutely no idea. You had so much fun that day, you played all kinds of games with him and then he took you to Batburger!

He then took you back home but you wanted to spend more time with him, so you begged him to tuck you in and read you a bed time story. He then looks at you confused and asks. “Does Bruce or Alfred not tuck you in?” When you reply with a confused little no, he looks at you with both frustration and sadness. He then picks you up and says with a small smile. “I’ll read you anything and everything you want, I’ll stay with you until your asleep. I’ll make you that hot chocolate that my mom makes o-or some hot milk. Whatever you want.” You break into a wide smile and hug him back tightly as you start to talk about whatever comes to mind. But you notice that there’s a glint of sadness that he’s trying to hide as he does everything he promised he would do. You don’t understand why, but you can tell by the way he tucks you in and reads you stories that he cares for you. And that makes you a little less scared.

After that day, no one in school messed with you. Which you were happy about but… You were still alone. You were still lonely. Your dad probably thinks you’re annoying. Just like Dick. You really wonder what’s going on in their heads, Dick acts like he’s like the nicest person in the whole world. So chipper and everything, it’s super annoying. It’s even more annoying that whenever you try to talk to him, even if you’re just trying to ask him to get you the ice cream in the freezer cause you can’t reach, he acts like you’re asking him to turn back time and watch his parents die. Bruce you just don’t understand, he’s rude and gruff with you. But sometimes you catch him staring. You’re not sure why but every time you do, you see both annoyance and some kind of deeper emotion that you aren’t sure about.

You sigh as you lie down on your bed snuggling into the fluffy duvet and nuzzle the pillow. Earlier you had a fight with Alfred about your grades, they were getting worse. You’re not sure why but you feel tired almost all the time and you can’t bring yourself to care about anything, even if it’s something you like. It’s been really stressful and you don’t know what to do. Alfred’s always busy so he can’t help you, Luke is also pretty busy but he does his best to make time for you but he’s also got his own life, and you don’t wanna take him away from that. And no one would tutor you because rumours spread that you were some vile little beast. Probably because of Amelie and her parents.

You tear up and hold Ollie close to your chest. You whisper to it. “You won’t leave me right? You won’t ignore or hate me right?” It says nothing. Most likely because it is a plushie. You raise its wing and pat your head with it. Pretending that you’re still with Daddy, that it was one of those weekend nights, and you were watching a movie together. He would be petting your head as you laid your head on his lap. You’d do anything to have that again.

That night you have a dream. A strange one. Unlike any dream you’ve had before. You wake up on a beach, with the moon, full and high above the sea. Everything felt so real, the cool waters the wet sand sticking to your feet. You turn to look behind you to see a cave carved into the cliffside. You watch as a giant owl emerge, then it starts charging at you. You hurriedly try to wade through the water but it feels… wrong. Before you could figure out why you’re being pulled to the depths of the ocean as you try to scream and shake off the thing that’s dragging you down.

You wake up in the middle of the night panicked and heaving, you run to your private bathroom and collapse by the edge of the tub. Coughing up water, tears spring from your eyes, as you almost cough up a pint or more of water. When you finish you cling to the side of the tub sobbing as you do so. To make things worse, you see that you’re bleeding, you pull down your shirt to see three dots in the form of a small triangle in the middle of your chest. The circles are perfect and it looks like you were stabbed with something as thick as a pencil. Honestly, you’re so tired and sleepy that you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

You go downstairs as you note the time, 3 AM. You go to the kitchen and you are faced with Batman making something on the stove and Robin bouncing on his heels. You stand there, silently for at least a minute before you just go back to bed. Your original plan of going to the kitchen to sneaking some milk and cookies for you, abandoned just like that. You’re obviously seeing things and it would be better to just go to sleep. So without changing your bloody shirt or getting any comfort whatsoever you lie there until daylight comes.

That day you were exhausted, you were practically falling asleep in class and the wounds on your chest kept bleeding for some reason so you haphazardly taped paper towels to your chest. You didn’t know who to talk to, whether it was okay to talk to someone. So when you finally got home from school, you asked Alfred if you could call Luke. But he said that he didn’t know Luke’s phone number but he did have Lucius’s and that he’d ask. “Who the hell is Lucius.” You ask, confused as to why he’s bringing in a whole new person you don’t know into the fringe. He chuckles as he says. “Lucius is Luke’s Father. You met him the first day you came here.”

You think for a moment before you start to remember him. “Oh, the nice black man?”

Alfred nods and then goes to the home phone in the living room and calls Lucius. He then passes you the phone and goes back to work. You panic, the last time you handled a phone call was when your father died. When Lucius picks up you yelp and before he can say anything you hang up. You then stay there panicked waiting for something to happen. You yelp again when it rings. Your hands shake and you start to get sweaty, you take deep breaths and do your best to calm yourself down before picking up the phone again. Before you can speak you hear Luke saying. “Hello, my father can’t come to the phone right now, he’s currently in a meeting. If you’d like you could call again later or I could tell him to call you ba-“

You interrupt and nervously say. “Hi Luke. Um. Can I-“

He interrupts you too in his excitement and says. “Oh, hey y/n! How’s my favourite Wayne doing? You alright? I just came back from university, it’s a lot of work but it’s fun, I guess. Uh, I can swing by and pick you up? We could go get some Batburger or something? Or you can come to my place and I can show you some more boxing-“

You start to tear up, you can feel how much he cares about you which makes you tear up a bit. You sniffle and he immediately quiets, you hear some rustling on the other end before he asks. “Hey, you okay? I’m sorry, I got too excited. Do you want me to come over?”

You nod as you whisper out a watery. “Yes please. C-Could you also bring me a (favourite hot drink) and a warm cookie from that café you took me to?”

You hear Luke pause before he chuckles and says. “You mean the Sleepy Time café? Sure kid. I’ll be over in 30. See you soon.”

After that the two of you hang up. You eagerly wait for him in the foyer, like a puppy waiting for its owner. You were a bit nervous, he’s been away at college for a while and you were worried he wouldn’t like you anymore because he made new and better friends. But Luke would never do that. You desperately hope he wouldn’t. When there’s finally a knock at the door, you rush to open it. When you do, you see that Luke has a large bag with the Batburger logo and a small bag with the Sleepy Time café logo and a big smile on his face. “Thought you might need an extra pick me up! Come on, lets go to the other side of the manor so Alfred can’t find us.”

You laugh and help him with the bag with the café stuff in it. You two go to the other side of the manor that’s less lived in. You guys find a living room like area with a big flatscreen TV like the one in the actually living room, although it is a bit smaller. He pulls out some DVDs from the inside of his jacket and puts the into the DVD player. While the movie plays you two eat and talk, until you finally bring up your dream. He looks at you horrified and asks. “What the fuck? That sounds horrifying.”

Which makes you feel both comforted and also scared because what do you mean, is this not normal? He pauses the movie and then says. “So let me get this straight, you woke up, started throwing up sea water and found three stab wounds-“

You then try to say. “But I don’t know if they are-“

He interrupts you saying. “I’m not done. I- Do you know how insane that is?”

You shrink back into yourself when he says that and get teary eyed. He realises what he said and how it probably sounded to you. “I’m sorry y/n I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that this is crazy and I can’t believe that you didn’t tell anybody. You should’ve said something to me sooner! Not waited a whole day.”

You nod and then say lowly. “I didn’t know who to tell.”

He looks at you sadly and and sighs as he puts his face in his hands. He then moves his hand to comb through his dreads. He then gently asks you. “Could you pull down your shirt for me y/n? So I can see?”

You nod hesitantly and take a deep breath before you do as he asks. You pull it down and take off the makeshift bandage that was almost soaked in red. But it’s gone, already scarred over despite it having been bleeding not too long ago. Panic rushes into your veins and you try to explain yourself but Luke interrupts you saying. “Y/n. You don’t have to explain, I trust you. Plus it’s kinda hard not to when you have a blood soaked bandage and three scars on your chest right where you said there would be. That’s insane though, it’s like straight out of a horror movie.”

You smile as he continues to talk, assuring you that he believes you as the pets your head and holds you tight. You bury your face into his shoulder, happy that there’s someone here that’s in your corner. That night before he tucks you in he writes his phone number on a post it note and writes in big letters, “Luke’s phone # call if you need ANYTHING and I mean it!” which makes you smile sleepily. It makes you feel safe and comforted.

And Luke did his best to keep his promise, he sometimes misses some calls but immediately calls the next chance he gets. As you turn 10 you notice some changes in your body. You don’t like it. It makes you look more… girly. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it just. It doesn’t feel right. When you look in the mirror you start to notice your body also turning more feminine. It’s not that you don’t like it’s just… It doesn’t feel right? You dismiss those thoughts however as you keep going to school.

You still don’t have any friends but Dick brings his friends over all the time. You sometimes watch them fool around, some redhead named Wally West, Roy Harper, Kaldur. Wally is the only one that’s the same age as Dick, Roy is barely two years older than you and Kaldur is older than Dick by two years. You’re fine with them, they look cool. One day you try to sneak into the kitchen without bothering them, wanting a snack. While you’re rummaging through the pantry you hear someone ask. “Who the hell are you?”

You turn around to see Roy looking at you with a raised eyebrow and his arms folded across his chest. You can see that he’s trying to look tough. He is failing. You turn away from him and grumble. “None of your business. Leave me.”

He does the opposite of what you say and gets closer as he asks. “Whatcha trying to get pipsqueak?”

You look at him, annoyed and say. “You fat butt, that’s what I’m looking for.”

Roy looks at you offended and says. “My butt is NOT fat! Take it back!”

You stick your tongue out at him and turn back to the pantry only to realise you forgot what you wanted. Then you turn back to Roy and growl. “Nice going numb nuts! Now I forgot what I wanted! I really wanted it too!”

Roy rolls his eyes and then says. “Well if you forgot what you wanted then maybe you didn’t want it that bad.”

Frustrated, you get teary eyed which makes Roy’s eyes widen. He sighs and goes over to the pantry and asks. “Did you want cookies?”

A bit confused, you brush your tears away before wetly asking. “What?”

He groans and asks again. “Was it cookies you wanted? Popcorn? Chips? Chocolate?”

You think about it a bit before asking for the peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies. He looks at you like you’re insane before getting those things. You grab a spoon and put it on the island before climbing onto the stool. You scoop out some peanut butter and realise you have mo plate. You look at Roy pleadingly and ask. “Can you get me a plate please?”

He blushes for some reason and grumbles and walks to one of the base cabinets and opens it to just see pots and pans stacked up neatly. He then shyly asks. “Uh, do you know where plates are?”

You smile and let out a little giggle before saying. “You’re close. It’s right above.”

He nods robotically and looks to see if there’s a ladder, he grabs it and uses it to get a plate for you. You plop the peanut butter onto the plate and give it back to Roy and ask. “Could you please put it in the microwave? Pretty please?”

His face reddens further and he puts it in the microwave for a minute. He then grabs it but winces when he feels how hot it is. He then grabs an oven mitt, puts it on and brings the plate over. He then sits next to you and just stares at you. You look away slightly uncomfortable then dip your cookie into the melted peanut butter. You huff and puff at how hot it is, but it still tastes amazing. Roy then steals a cookie and does the same thing as you. He also huffs and puffs at how hot the peanut butter is. You laugh at that and continue to eat the cookies like that together and in silence. When you’re finished you give him a hug and whisper a thank you before jumping off the stool and going back to your room happily. Not noticing that Roy’s face was beet red and he stared at you as you left.

A few weeks later you saw that everyone in your school had a phone. You also wanted one, so after some pleading with Alfred who then relayed said pleas to Bruce, bought you a new WayneTech phone. You searched up all kinds of things, you’d look at pictures of your favourite characters all day. However you keep running into pictures one character kissing another character. But that’s not right they should be in love with the one you think is best. It just fits the story better and their personalities won’t clash! And that is how you ended up in a rabbit hole of lemon fanfics and fan art. This was all so cool! Online, you could be someone else! And people were into the same stuff you were into, and you found more things that peaked your interests, like manga and anime! You were into so many fandoms and the dopamine rush you get from seeing art of your fave character, or better yet, your fave ship was amazing! You loved this!

It didn’t take you long to get on Wattpad, Tumblr, Devianart as well as getting a Waynebook account. Which none of your family members know about because why the hell would they. And you obviously had to pretend to be a boy, I mean you wouldn’t want random people to know that you’re a girl and it’d be harder to find you in case anyone did try to find you. But while you were scrolling through Waynebook one day you saw that one of your favourite artists had an ‘NSFW’ account. You don’t know what that means so you clicked it and Oh. Oh wow. After that day you got into both yaoi and yuri. And you started following A LOT of NSFW accounts and got into some more ‘adult’ fanfics and doujinshis.

It really felt like the world was your playground after that, and after you found there was both official and fan merchandise? You said goodbye to your allowance because you needed that dakimura of your fave being submissive and breedable. You had pins all over your backpack and cute little key chains that your fave artists made of your babies. However on one of the days that Alfred took both Dick and you to school, Dick saw your backpack. He asks. “What’s that?”

You brighten up and start to explain, but you don’t even 5 seconds before he says. “That’s so weird. And you put that on your backpack? You want everyone to know you’re some kinda weirdo? Bruce would probably disgusted.”

Your smile goes away and you go quiet as Dick turns to look through the window. You mumble under your breath. “It’s not weird.”

Alfred scolds Dick for saying something like that, but you can tell that Alfred also thinks it’s not normal. Your eyes start to sting as you start to undo the pins and decorations on your backpack. You wish he never asked, you wish he didn’t get your hopes up. No one in this manor understands you. And then comes the question, would Daddy still love you like this? You start to cry quietly trying your best to stifle your sniffles but Dick notices. He rolls his eyes before mumbling an apology you know he doesn’t mean. You don’t say anything back.

You wish that was the worst thing about that day but no. In the middle of a test your seat starts to feel wet you look down to check and see that you’re bleeding. You get scared and ask the teacher if she could come to you. She doesn’t even look up when she says. “You have legs don’t you? Come and walk over here if you have something you need to say.”

You look down nervously and tell her. “Could you please come here instead? I don’t feel comfortable walking over there.”

She stares you down and sighs as she gets up to go close to you. She asks you. “Are you having trouble with a question?”

You shake your head and tell her you’re bleeding from your crotch. Her eye widen at that but her brows furrow when she says. “Don’t lie to me, you’re too young to be having a period. Just finish your test.”

You look at her, panicked and say. “I’m not! Miss can you just please help me?”

She sighs and as she combs through her hair she then says. “Fine. Get up then. Show me.”

You look up her horrified, you look around and see that some of the kids are looking over curious as to what’s happening. You look up at her pleadingly and ask. “Do I have to?”

She nods and then you sigh and get up, Eric, your former best friend and now class clown says. “Ewww, that’s so gross! She peed blood!”

Your face flushes with embarrassment as the teacher then realises her mistake she then ushers you to the bathroom and grabs a pad for you. She tells you how to use it and while you do that, she calls Alfred to pick you up but the damage is done. Alfred probably picks you up and helps you through it but after that day the kids at school start to call you bloody mary.

You start hiding your true self after that. You told Luke about both things and although he didn’t quite understand the fujoshi part, he was still supportive. So you continued the next few years. While Dick blossomed into a social butterfly and healed from his trauma, you enclose on yourself. Only blossoming during the night, when you were free to be yourself. When you were free to be as weird as you wanted to be. Your body keeps growing, but not in the way you want it to. You start to get self-conscious, hating the way your body looks and feels. So you start wearing oversized hoodies and baggy pants. You look at Dick and his friends and see their bodies. You wish you looked like that.

At some point at around 13 years old, you made a friend online. A girl named Robin she’s about 5 yeas older than you and really smart. She helps with your homework a lot and you’re thankful for her. When you tell her your feelings about your body growing she then asks. “Would you rather be a boy?”

You chuckle and say. “I mean, yeah. Boys have it easier. They don’t have to worry about their bodies. And they don’t have to worry about periods. They don’t have boobs either, so that’s cool. There’s also the pay gap-“

Robin interrupts. “Are you saying that to justify that? Or do you mean it?”

You pause, and think about it for a moment. You then say. “I don’t know. Like I look at Dick and his friends and I think, ‘Wow! I wish I had their clothing and musculature and I wish I could also be manly’ but like it’s not like I fantasise about it.”

Robin chuckles as she then says. “Mmm. So those times you wished you were a man and told me that if you were a man you’d want to be a ‘bara dilf’ didn’t happen? Or how you said that you wished you looked like (insert chara with your ideal body type)?”

You blush and think about her words and say. “Well it’s not like I can change anything-“

She interrupts you again as she says. “Yeah you can. You can get HRT and get that body and voice you want.”

You reply with. “What.”

She then explains the LGBTQ+ going through each letter calmly and letting you ask questions. It makes you pause and think about what you want and if this is you. And whether you might want to change your body. You mull it over for over a month when suddenly you have that weird dream again.

You’re on the shore, everything around you is serene and beautiful the sun setting. You turn around and there’s the cave that’s int the cliff side. You go towards it this time and as you get closer you can hear breathing. When you’re right in front of the cave you see the owl staring at you. It looks straight into your eyes and opens it mouth to let out some kind of recording. You hear a blood curdling scream, and garbled noises, implying someone is drowning or choking on their own blood as the ominous chanting in the background grows louder and louder overtaking the screams eventually. It then closes its mouth but voices don’t stop. Instead it feels like the sound is multiplying, like there’s more people that’s either screaming or chanting. It starts to hurt, and the pain gradually increases too. Until suddenly it all stops. You start heaving, not noticing that you were barely breathing the entire time. You fall to your knees as you shudder and hug yourself. You look up and the owl says in Bruce’s voice. “Behind you.” You slowly turn around to see the giant owl from last time. This time you get to see how big it actually is. It’s as big as a medium sized two story house. It then pecks at you, tearing through your flesh like a hot knife through butter. Tearing out your entrails at it keeps you down with its talons.

You wake up with a scream, you still feel the pain. And it takes more than a few moments to realise that you’re alive. And that it was just a dream.

After that you were so preoccupied with the dream and school that you completely put the thought of HRT and surgery out of your mind. Instead you start showing your art online, making fanfics and buying doujinshis, trying to keep your mind off these reoccurring dreams and the fact that your family doesn’t love you. 2 years pass like this, Bruce and Dick’s relationship has been rougher these days. You watch but don’t butt in, it’s none of your business anyways. But then Dick moves out and you can tell Bruce is depressed about it. You don’t know what to say or do but you start to leave tea or coffee for him in his office, so he won’t feel as lonely.

But that looks like it won’t be necessary, because instead of saying thank you and just be a normal man. He gets another child from the street, he tells you to be nice to him, to be kind. As if you didn’t know the harshness of the city. You’d argue about it but you had no energy for that. That’s when you meet Jason, your little brother.

He looked skinny, the child like look that was supposed to be in his eyes are not there, replaced with a wariness that you can recognise was developed over time. His clothes were too big for him, almost swallowing him up. You could tell he was uncomfortable and Dick isn’t here anymore. And even if he was, he’s been real prickly since his argument with Bruce. You sigh and wonder, is that what you looked like? It’s obvious that he’s older than when you came to the manor but because of the malnourishment he looks as if he’s nine.

You didn’t interact much in the beginning, at least not until the next week when a thunder came along. You were staying up doing some commissions when your door opens, you blink at the light flooding your room wincing as it makes your tired eyes sting. When you can see properly you can see Jason just standing there, blanket in hand. Before you can say anything he barges into your room and gets into your bed. You look at him confused and flabbergasted before you save your progress and turn off your computer and drawing tablet. You go to the bathroom to change into your pjs before standing right by the aide of the bed. You see that he’s shaking. You look at him sympathetically as you remember when your Daddy used to do that. You sigh as you get in bed and curl around him, you wrap your arms around his waist. The two of you fall asleep like that, while you hoped you could be be of good use to him. However when you wake up he isn’t there, you clench your fist as you lay there. Tired, and lonely again.

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Hello! Hope you liked it! If any of the charas are too ooc please tell me! I would like to be kinda accurate in some way.

Edit: For those who saw what the title was before, no you didn’t.

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@simpingpandas

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[onyxbird]

Hardison can't find Parker or Eliot anywhere one afternoon. He eventually finds out from Sophie that they had plans together (Sophie was surprised he didn't know); she doesn't know what, just that it was something they'd had scheduled for a while and they're not expected to be back until at least late afternoon.

And it's fine. Hardison fully supports his teammates spending quality time together, bonding, etc., as individuals. He'd never think that Parker should not have friendships with other people just because they're dating, and he has even less claim on Eliot's free time. Parker and Eliot connect in a different way than Hardison connects with either of them, so it makes sense they'd want some one-on-one time. This is good. This is great. Hardison just... feels incredibly alone and unmoored and irrationally upset that neither of them even mentioned whatever it was they had planned to him. Do they think he'd be in the way? Has he given them the impression that he'd try to horn in on their plans? Why did they tell Sophie but not him?

Things don't get any better after they get back from their whatever it was (they still haven't said anything about where they went). Eliot is a stormcloud, even grouchier and touchier than usual. Parker, on the other hand, is weirdly... chirpy? She's determinedly upbeat and peppers in cheerful, nearly non-sequitur comments about her thief skills (and occasional comments about Eliot's skills) at frequent intervals. It feels bizarrely artificial, and it's clearly getting on Eliot's last nerve.

Needless to say, the mood at HQ is tense. Nate takes one look at the dynamic and finds business he needs to take care of elsewhere. Sophie tries to engage both of them in conversation, clearly angling to figure out what's going on, and only accomplishes getting snarled at by Eliot and even chirpier non sequiturs from Parker. She finally gives up and leaves the brewpub, too. Hardison tiptoes through the middle trying not to set anyone off, his earlier jealously subsumed by trying to figure out what the hell is going on with them.

He doesn't think anything of it when he sees an angrily crumpled piece of paper next to the wastebasket--just picks it up to throw away properly--but he's surprised to realize it's some kind of professionally printed brochure.

He smooths it out. It's for a lecture. A lecture scheduled during the time Parker and Eliot were gone...

"You Can't Love Him Until You Love You."

Hardison stares at the paper in disbelief for a long moment. Then he sighs, tucks the carefully smoothed and refolded paper into his pocket in case he needs a Sophie consultation tomorrow, and heads over to try to coax his two favorite people into a movie night (heist movie, of course, and hopefully a ridiculously gourmet spread courtesy of Eliot).

[haikyu-mp4]

November

word count; 1033 – f!reader

Kozume Kenma did not want to be in the library right now. If he had his way, he would be asleep under a warm duvet all day now that classes had ended for the semester. Unfortunately, he had a lot to learn before exams, and there was no time to waste.

He chose a seat by the table in the back, which was only occupied by one other student, who he didn’t acknowledge at all. You eventually took notice of him, though. The cute guy with the outgrown bleach was looking down at his schoolwork with a frown, and you were very amused. You stretched your arm out to get his attention, and Kenma eventually looked up with a face that bridged between annoyed and confused. He looks like a kitten, you thought. "What did that book ever do to you?"

"It mocks my lack of will. So if you could try not to distract me, that would be great," he answered, which ended your conversation abruptly. You smirked to yourself, picked up a pen and got to work on your next drawing after taking a sip from your water bottle. Kenma calmly put on his headphones, a sign to please leave him alone.

After about half an hour, Kenma sat back in his seat to stretch. His spine cracked, and he clapped his cheeks to stay awake. You took this as your opportunity and flipped your drawing pad to show him the newest masterpiece. Kenma turned his head at the motion, and his face quickly fell in disbelief. You had drawn him how he looked today, except with ears and a nose that resembled a calico cat. He frowned when he noticed your wide and proud smile. Annoyingly enough, he was impressed by your unusual art style. When Kenma looked down at his notes again, he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. A light rosy colour tinted his cheeks despite his efforts to stay cool, and your heart fluttered. Mission accomplished.

A week later, even closer to exams, Kenma made his way to the library again. To his surprise, the woman he still didn't know the name of was there too. With a quick rundown of positives and negatives in his head, he decided to take a seat across from you.

You sat like that every day for the whole school week. Kenma tried his best to cram as many facts as he could and actually started to feel like this exam might go well. He didn't quite know what the person across from him was working on, but you had several different coloured pens and even a small box of watercolours along with a brush that somehow stored the water you needed in the handle. He started wondering, and before he could stop himself, "Are you allowed to paint in here?"

Your eyes met, unconsciously having a staring contest for one too many seconds. Oh, so he wants to talk to me now? When his eyes wandered around your face and hands, he noticed that you weren’t exactly being careful with your colours either.

"No one has told me not to," you said slowly as if trying to convince him. A small smile graced his lips, and you felt greedy for more of it.

"Sounds like solid reasoning to me," Kenma agreed and leaned back in his chair. His hand lifted to point at the back of your large notepad, "What are you creating now, then?"

Abashingly, you turned it around. You had filled the whole page, and he recognised it as the library you were currently in, but with much more sunshine and colours, orange flowers growing from the books and pink cows making their way across the floor in the back. "I study visual arts. We have to create an exhibition, and my theme is perspective." His mouth fell open slightly as he nodded in understanding when you explained.

"It's cool. You're good at that." Kenma kept his voice low, and something about it was so enticing to you. He spoke so calmly and every emotion of his was a mystery. "I'm Kenma."

"I'm y/n." After settling down from your little conversation, you kept sipping from your water bottle. Kenma’s mouth dried every time he heard the sound. He did his best to clear his throat, realising he hadn’t brought anything to drink.

“Do you have an inspiration?” he asked, mostly wondering if you actually saw the words that way.

The corner of your mouth quirked. “I’ve always like games, it’s affected the way I see the world. Sorry, that probably sounds like childish imagination.”

Kenma thought back to the things he’d imagine when he ran in high school for volleyball practice. The way he’d make it into a game. “No, I… Uh, I totally get it.”

You two naturally fell into silent, individual work again. Kenma kept glancing over at your paintings, but whenever you met his gaze, he would look away. Eventually, the sun went down, and you both started clearing the table, silently packing everything into your bags. Come on, Kenma. Just smile at her and say something. However, somewhat luckily, you beat him to it.

"Hey, Kenma?" He lifted his head swiftly, eyebrows raised, happy that you started the conversation. "Do you want to get a drink?" You weren’t necessarily nervous, but undoubtedly hopeful for his answer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a kind, small smile. You had both picked up your bags and stood beside the table.

"A drink? Yeah, sure." Kenma’s voice sent a shiver down your spine again, and you straightened up with an even broader smile.

"Fun! Cool, cool, cool- The student bar?"

"I've only been there once or twice before, never saw the charm." The student bar had a certain vibe that didn't fit him when he just wanted to drink. A lot of people were there to socialise with new people, and Kenma was not interested.

"The beer is cheaper there," you said in a sing-songy voice to try and convince the handsome man. Kenma wasn't entirely convinced, but if you wanted to go there, then he wouldn't argue.

"Lead the way."

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[targaryenluvs]

— CHARITY

pairing: dark!president!coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

warnings: violence, basically torture, unhinged coryo, obsession, forced marriage, short fic

a/n: based on this request, this is actually insane

what an angel he is.

the capitol viewed your dear husband as nothing short of a saint. an amazing president, an even better husband. of course they all knew about you, his dear wife, the one who swept him off his feet.

the start of your marriage was torture enough for you, having been forced into it by your parents. all they could talk about was what a sweet man coriolanus was. how accomplished he was. it didn’t matter what he’d been in the past, he had built himself up again and he was undeniably coveted by many. you should be thanking him for choosing you.

yet you couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

you’d already told him you weren’t interested. you weren’t charmed by the copious amounts of gifts he’d sent your way. the poetry books that you were sure you’d never talked about to anyone else, only written of in your journals and read at home. the pretty dresses and jewellery but the only gift you’d accept of coriolanus’s was his absence from your life.

and he couldn’t handle it so he went over your head and enticed your parents.

you hated him with your whole soul and every bone in your body whilst he worshipped you. “you look gorgeous, fit to be my wife.” you stood in front of him, hand in hand, wedding dress donned and ready to marry.

you wanted to punch him in the face yet you held your breath, and smiled at him as well as the guests, of which you knew only a few. he kept you restricted, as if on lockdown in your own home. he was like a leech, feeding in your happiness and you’d been sucked dry. coriolanus was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to you and you wouldn’t let him win.

so you ran.

you’d made it about a few steps down the street before his sleek black car pulled up, his driver walking around to you whilst you backed up, all the way against the tall, black bars of your home. prison.

“did you think you’d get far? that i’d let you? you are my wife, my responsibility, you are here for me. i was trying so hard to give you space, to let you adjust and you took advantage of my generosity.” his words were filled with spite, each word piercing your skin.

he was truly insane.

“generosity? generosity? you forced me into a marriage and expect me to kneel down and kiss your feet for this? for me to not fight back? i have never loved you nor will i coriolanus.” you were a cornered animal, only being able to lash out, bad mistake. the sun reflected off of the crowbar in his hand, twirled between his hands as he stepped out of the car, you were shrinking into yourself whilst he grew taller.

a selfish man stealing the oxygen you needed, the freedom, and now, your abilities.

“how many times must i correct you, it’s coryo darling.”

the unspeakable pain broke your heart, your throat raw from the shrieking and screaming. eyes stinging at the touch of a hand, puffy and sore. blood drawn from your lips tasted metallic and odd, yelling seemed to do nothing so you resorted to biting down on anything.

he’d shattered your legs.

you’d never walk again.

you’d have to rely on him.

you were confined to a wheel chair for your life.

he now controlled where you went.

you’d never be able to move on your own.

in your desperation to escape you’d overlooked and underestimated coriolanus’s obsession for you. he knew the second you’d stepped out of the home, either he was waiting for it or was always ready to come home. whether it was a trap or just bad luck, you were stuck.

most of panem viewed your husband to be an absolute angel, he could have remarried, he could have turned you away yet he stuck by your side, ever the supportive partner. how lucky you were! the rest of them saw you as a chore, someone undeserving, unable to provide for your family. he was a nice man.

you were just charity.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Press One for Love, Two for Regret

Chapter 3

Summary: Proper confessions should never happen over the phone. Viktor knows that. So how did he get here?

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: Mature (mentions of explicit content, explicit in last chapter)

Notes: Yup, this started from a silly lil 1K prompt, don't ask me what happened, I wouldn't be able to say either. This chapter is pretty heavy on feelings, self-reflection and angst, but I think y'all will find it enjoyable ❤️. There's one more chapter left (the SMUT yeehawww), but I've written chapter 3 in a way where you could technically stop reading the story here if you didn't want to read the smut, and it would still be a satisfying conclusion. I know most of you are in it for the smut too, so don't worry my beloveds, it will come 😛💕

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 4/End)

The humanities faculty room always smells horrible.

It's hard to tell where the pungent scent even comes from; it feels like it's in the air, in all the furniture, in the walls themselves. There's no window to even attempt to vent it out either; it’s in the oldest wing of the university, built at least sixty years prior to the construction of every other unit. Most teachers avoid it like the plague, preferring to work in any other available space on campus, so it's almost always empty.

But it isn't today.

“Melllll,” you moan, shoving your face into the leather couch’s pillows. The smell is somehow worse, imbued into the fabric. If you had to describe it, you would just call it old. Like rancid coffee forgotten on the kitchen counter for too long, or ancient damp books abandoned in an attic. Old. “Why do I always mess up everything I do?”

Mel looks up from the paper she's grading with a sigh, adjusting the small reading glasses on her nose.

“You don't mess up everything you do,” she argues softly. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you say what you think without feeling ashamed. That's not something for everyone, but it's not a flaw, either.”

You can only groan into the odorous leather as an answer.

Viktor had been your very first friend at work, but he had been a lot more. Without him, you would have never met Jayce, and without Jayce, you would have never met Mel. And you would have no one to cry your woes to on a Friday evening, a whole two weeks after the most disastrous phone call of your life.

“And I believe Viktor is equally at fault here. He knows better than to play hide and seek with you forever,” Mel hums pensively, crossing her legs. Her olive eyes narrow, her nose scrunching up slightly in thought.

“He's stalling, trying to figure a way out without confronting his feelings or yours. He's smart enough to know there isn't one, but he's stubborn,” she points out, tapping her manicured nails on the wooden table. Tic, tic. Like **the sound of seconds passing on the clock, never-ending and all-consuming.

At first, both Jayce Talis, mechanical engineering PhD and researcher, and Mel Medarda, political science PhD with five peer-reviewed books published under her name, had been two extremely imposing people to interact with. You already felt unworthy enough talking to Viktor, but after learning of the kind of people he usually hung out with, you felt like an absolute loser. Jayce and Mel are both unreasonably attractive and accomplished, and when Viktor joins them, there's no denying he belongs to their world, and not yours.

In those moments, the differences between the two of you seem much more glaring: the university professor with a collection of awards and a PhD in biomechanical engineering, who is dedicating his life to creating life-altering prosthetic limbs and transmitting his knowledge to a whole new generation of scientists… and you.

The guidance councillor who can't shut up.

It’s not that you're ashamed of your job; you love what you do. You love being able to help people figure themselves out, and orient them toward what will make them happiest.

But when you stand in the same space as Viktor, it's hard to see anything other than how much greater of a person he is than you will ever be. He's like a star in the sky, shining brighter and brighter every day, and you get the privilege of watching him through the lens of a telescope. That should already be enough for you to be satisfied.

But it isn’t, not anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. And you want to do so much more than look at him. You want to touch him. You want to kiss him. You want to be someone worthy of shining alongside him; but you never believed that would ever happen.

And for so long, it felt so much easier to just date people whose very existence didn't make you feel like you would never be enough to reach their ankle. People who just wanted something casual and meaningless, some sex, maybe the semblance of a romance. And that's how you ended up with a string of disastrous relationships with men you barely even liked.

You contort your body uncomfortably on the couch to face Mel; it squeaks awkwardly under you, like it's threatening to break.

“Did you know? Did everyone but me know?”

She rests her head on her hand, the hint of a smile on her lips, seemingly slightly amused by the question:

“Depends on who you mean by everyone. No one outside his circle of close friends, for sure. He's not the type to scream about his love life over the phone,” she adds with a teasing glim in her eyes. “No offence.”

You groan, shoving your face back into the roughed-up leather. God, it still smells.

“But Jayce did know,” she confirms, and you hear her straighten her chair to return to work. The comforting sound of her fountain pen starts up again, but you know she's still giving her conversation with your full attention. Mel is like that, able to carry on a hundred tasks at once without breaking a sweat; you wish you had an ounce of her composure.

“Viktor told him after he got drunk last year at the faculty cookout. I believe his exact words were…”

She pauses to do a dramatic imitation of Viktor's voice and tone, “‘Jayce, she is wearing that dress just to put me into an early grave’.”

Not only is it pretty accurate, but God, you know exactly what dress.

The skimpy little sunflower dress that you knew showed way too much chest for a work-related event. You had worn it in the hopes of eliciting any sort of reaction from Viktor; but he had barely spoken to you that afternoon, constantly vanishing every time you entered a room. You assumed you made him uncomfortable with something you said, like you always ended up doing with everyone else.

So you had left the party on the arm of some nameless T.A. from the law department, hoping it would help you forget Viktor, just for a while.

It hadn't.

“And I knew,” Mel continues smoothly in her regular voice, “because I know what it's like to want someone to notice you so badly. To want someone to love you back.”

You detect something very personal in the way she pronounces the word ‘love’, almost like it's painful to even say.

Mel rarely talks about herself, preferring to listen to the stories of everyone around her. Everything about her gives an air of mature confidence and independence, and if she ever has any issues in her personal life, she never shares them with you, or anyone that you know of.

She's not cold by any means, and she helps everyone with genuine care, that, you are absolutely certain of. But you can feel there's a side of her she desperately wants to keep to herself. She's only ever mentioned her mother once, in a drunken haze, muttering something under her breath about never being enough for her.

You wonder if that's the person who’s love she’s longing for.

When she speaks again, there is something akin to nostalgia lingering in her voice:

“You get that special look in your eyes. You both looked at each other just like that, but neither of you ever noticed.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes. Fucking ironic. You can never seem to stop talking, but now, the words you want to tell her just won't come.

Mel doesn't seem to mind, though, and the sound of pen scrapping paper picks up again. You force yourself out of your leather cavern, sitting up on the couch to look at her directly.

“…Why didn't you say anything?” you ultimately settle with, but it rings much more fragile and hurt than you wanted it to.

She gives a small shrug without looking away from her documents:

“Not my place to. Viktor needed to confront his feelings head-on, and you needed to realize you were never not enough or too much for him,” she states matter-of-factly, “It's that simple.”

Everything always seems so easy when it comes from Mel's lips. But in your mind, thoughts are jumbled, emotions are running wild, and everything you thought you knew about the last four years is falling apart.

Maybe, that time on New Year’s Eve when he told you there was no other place he'd rather be, he hadn't meant at the party. He had meant with you.

Maybe, when he had taken your hand, it wasn't just because you were excitedly counting down the last seconds until midnight. It was because he wanted to touch you just as much as you wanted to touch him.

Maybe, at the end of that night and in those early morning hours, when he had said you would make someone really happy one day…he was asking if it could be him.

“Maybe,” you **exhale bitterly, enunciating the world like a curse, “it would actually be simple if he just answered my texts, or my calls. Or anything I do to try and reach him.”

Yeah, you're to blame for being so blind for so long. For noticing the smallest things about everyone else, but missing all the signs when it came to him.

But so is he for refusing to talk about it now that you finally see it.

“At this point, I’m seriously starting to consider lock-picking their apartment,” you grumble, more in tiredness than anger; you can't even manage to stay mad at him for longer than a minute. “He’s the one who showed me how to do that, did I ever tell you that?”

She lets out a soft laugh at that; but when she glances over to you, there's a hint of something new in her eyes.

“I'm sure he would enjoy seeing you put your training to use, but there might be another way to see him. I think he's had more than enough time playing hide and seek.”

You know that glint in her forest-green stare; she knows something you don't, and she’s chosen to reveal it to you. You almost jump off the couch with your eyes wide, so quickly you almost lose your balance:

“Mel, what do I do?”

She snorts as she motions for you to sit back down with a calming wave of her hand, amusement clear on her face.

“Calm down. I wouldn't tell anyone about this normally,” she begins, lowering her voice in secrecy, as if you’re not the only two in the room, “and I want to make it very clear you did not receive this information from me.”

You nod eagerly in agreement, hanging on to her every word.

“Go to their apartment,” she declares with certainty. “If you keep going after their door and to the end of the corridor, there's a big potted plant on the window sill. An orchid.”

You frown in confusion.

You've only been to Viktor and Jayce's apartment a few times in the couple of years you've known them. Usually for relaxed group hangouts, or an occasional game night. You remember very little about it other than the all-consuming childish excitement of being in Viktor’s home, and the absolutely not innocent thought of his bedroom being barely a few feet away.

Why don't you ever remember the important things?

You try to muster every memory you have of the apartment complex itself instead; they live on the third floor, and their door is the second one on the right after the elevator. The hallway is a straight, narrow line, and you've noticed how dark it always is every time you’ve visited.

Dark, yes, that's right, because aside from a cheap light fixture, there’s only one window that lets any light into the hallway, at the very end of the corridor. One window, that is almost entirely blocked by the world's most decrepit potted plant.

“The… really ugly one?” you ask with uncertainty.

Mel snaps her fingers in confirmation, a hint of perfect pearly white teeth shining between her lips.

“I think you may find something of interest under it. Jayce told me about it for whenever I want to…” she hesitates on her next word, uncharacteristically a little bashful, “visit.”

Oh, you fucking knew it.

“I totally-” you start triumphantly.

“Yes, I know, you knew it for months,” she interrupts, waving her hand in dismissal. Her lower lip sticks out slightly, almost like she's pouting. You've never seen her this embarrassed. “It's incredible how you notice everything about everyone else, but when it's about you, you suddenly forget how to use your own eyes.”

Touché.

You've sensed it for at least a year now, the unspoken electricity between the two of them. How her arm sometimes lingers just a second too long on his shoulder, how his hands seem to always accidentally brush her waist. For as subtle as they were being, there was no mistaking the fire when they looked at each other.

Did Viktor ever look at you like that, too?

Why hadn't you ever noticed?

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt your own train of thought. “The orchid. Why is the orchid…”

You pause when the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water.

Oh.

Oh.

“Do… do they have a set of keys under the orchid?” you ask slowly.

“I didn't say that,” Mel says, bringing her two hands up in self-defence; but the smile lingering on her lips tells another story. “And if you say I did, I will deny it and throw you under the bus with every inch of my power as the advisor for the debate club. Are we clear?”

You could kiss her.

You settle with a tight hug, holding her with as much force as you can muster. The scent of her perfume, bitter and floral, masks the decrepit smell of the room for just a moment. Is there any problem Mel can’t solve?

“Mel, you're the best,” you grin against her ear.

“So I'm told,” she hums. She gently detaches herself from the hug, giving you an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Now go. I don't like seeing you mop around my teacher's lounge, and I can't stand when Viktor performs his little disappearing act instead of talking things out.”

She picks her pen back up, giving you one last genuine look of support, voice soft, sincere: “You two are really meant for each other. Give him hell.”

—

Viktor is much less attentive than people give him credit for.

That’s not to say he’s oblivious or careless. In fact, when it comes to his work, he could instantly notice a tenth of a millimeter discrepancy from a mile away. He could hear the slightest abnormal murmur in the heart of any machine, and pinpoint its exact origin within seconds. Throw a blindfold on top, and he'd still know exactly where to place each and every single component of his prosthetic models.

But when it comes to the world outside his lab, his attention to detail just plummets.

If a bomb went off right outside his apartment, he probably wouldn't even look up from his notes. Jayce usually has to call his name thrice to pull him out of the trance-like state he gets into when he's sketching up a new idea, and that's only because he's used to Jayce's voice; for someone else, he might not hear it at all.

Even walking home from campus, he pays no attention to his surroundings, lost in his thoughts of valves, hydraulic cylinders, and flexion plates. He mechanically follows the same path he's walked thousands of times, a habit so ingrained in him it allows him to fully disconnect and think of nothing but work.

He's glad he has such a strong grip on his own mind, because if he didn't, he would let his practical ideations slowly morph into thoughts of nothing but you. You, who he hasn't seen in two weeks, because he likes to pretend change can't happen if he simply refuses to acknowledge it. It's much better to focus on what he actually has control over, to lose himself entirely in the things that make sense to him. To forget the world burning around him.

And that's exactly why he doesn't realize you’re in his apartment, sitting on his couch about ten feet away from him, until you make a pointed cough to signal your presence.

“Ah,” is the only thing he manages to get out.

He wishes he'd be surprised, but then again, he knew you would find your way to him eventually. He could keep trying to bury himself in work and avoid you with every inch of his power, you would not stop until you got answers to your questions. You’re just as stubborn as he is. That's part of why he fell for you.

So, there's nothing he can do, but let out a defeated sigh.

“I would ask how you got in here,” he starts flatly, taking off his coat robotically to place it on the hanger, “but I have a feeling it doesn't really matter.”

You don't react to his distant, tired tone, your expressive face unusually devoid of emotion when you speak.

“I didn't use your lockpicking lessons, if you're wondering.”

He can't help but snort at that:

“Disappointing.”

You both stay silent as he slowly takes off his boots and removes his wool scarf. The atmosphere isn't exactly awkward, but it's not comfortable either. Like a cheap, stiff version of the warm intimacy you usually share.

You've always been so easy to read, and anything that didn't show on your face always came from your lips. He always knows how you feel: he's observed every single expression on your face, from the slightest pout to the biggest grin, and committed it to memory with the dedication he only ever puts into his projects.

From the day you literally crashed in his life four years ago, utterly drunk and analyzing him with astonishing accuracy, he's felt the need to analyze you, too. To decipher every part of you, understand each component, each reaction. He craved the idea of knowing you like a cartographer knows the maps of the world, like an astronomer knows the place of every star. To understand you as you had understood him, with a single glance.

Right now, he has no idea what you're thinking.

In typical fashion, you're the one who ultimately breaks the ice first:

“You could kick me out,” you declare, staring him down almost challengingly. “I'll leave if you really want me to.”

There's clear apprehension and hurt in your voice, a bitterness you're trying your best to hide, but failing. He despises being the one to make you feel that way. He's become no better than any of your exes.

“We both know I won't do that,” he exhales. He's still standing in the entryway, just a few steps away from the threshold of the living room. There's no hiding anymore, no backing out. You're here, and he has to face you. Even if it breaks him.

“In the kitchen, second drawer on the left,” he says, making his way inside resignedly. “There's a rather large bread knife inside it. It hasn't been sharpened in a while, but it should do.”

Your passive expression falls for a second and you stare at him in confusion.

“Do for what?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“Killing me to spare us both the embarrassment of this conversation,” he answers unenthusiastically.

You're the one who snorts, this time. If he could forget why you're here, he could almost pretend this is just a regular talk between close friends. Almost.

You get off the couch without hurry, stretching your limbs lazily; he wonders if you've been waiting for him for a while. You're still in your usual work clothes, but your hair is dishevelled, and your makeup is a bit smudged. Had these been different circumstances, this would be the kind of look he would imagine you in when he's alone in bed, but that's exactly the kind of treacherous impulse that's led him to this situation in the first place.

There's a strange shimmer in your eyes when you look at him again:

“You got any booze in that kitchen ?”

He’s starting to realize no matter how many years you give him, he’ll probably never be able to completely figure out what's going on in that brain of yours.

“You want to drink. Right now,” he states in disbelief.

You shrug:

“Seems like you listened to me when I was drunk last time. Maybe that'll get your attention again.”

There's an undeniable bitterness under the light sarcasm. It's deserved, frankly. And maybe a drink would make what's inevitably coming less difficult.

“First cabinet to the right. You can take the clear unlabeled bottle,” he offers.

You hum in approval, making your way to the kitchen without looking back at him. He makes his way to the couch, sitting at the opposite end of where you had been.

You come back with the bottle in one hand, and two mismatched shot glasses in the other. One is his, a souvenir from an academic conference in Marseilles; the silver lettering simply states ‘Ainsi va la vie’, ‘such is life’. He has to wonder if you chose it on purpose, to taunt him.

Although, the other one is Jayce's, and it's shaped like the torso of a woman with huge breasts in a bikini top with the colours of his old college. So it's equally as likely you just grabbed the first ones you found.

He always overthinks when he's anxious.

You put the three items down on the rectangular table in front of him, before sinking into the couch next to him. Your bodies aren't touching, shoulders an adequate distance from each other, but the proximity is still unnerving. The smell of your perfume, usually so comforting, makes him feel slightly ill.

You pour the alcohol into the shot glasses unhurriedly, progressively filling them both to the brim.

“Did you know Mel and Jayce are together?” you ask, not looking up from your task.

“Unfortunately so,” he mutters sourly.

You pause at that, perplexed.

“No, that is not what I meant, I am very happy for them,” he clarifies quickly. “But their decision to keep it a secret has been rather… precarious for me.”

You slide a glass towards him and give him a smile; the first one of the day, the first one in two weeks.

“You walked in on them fucking, didn't you?”

He groans, and you laugh. God, he missed that sound.

“I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life,” he complains, wrapping his hand around the shot glass. He notices with gratitude it's the plain one and not its heavily endowed sibling. “Being able to run had never seemed more appealing.”

You grab your own glass, the smile on your lips genuine, but fragile. The words still left unsaid hang above you both, and he's forced to remember this is but a moment of respite before everything falls apart.

“Maybe a drink will help you forget,” you joke, holding up the glass in his direction.

How he wishes it would.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he simply answers, bringing his glass to yours until they hit with a light clink. “Cheers.”

Your gaze holds his captive as you speak, like you're reaching into the depths of his very being.

“Na zdravià.”

You throw your head back and down the shot before he has time to voice his surprise, so he does the same, not wanting to break the unspoken rules of the toast; his ancestors would roll in their graves.

The liquid burns his throat almost instantly, the familiar warmth of alcohol settling into his body. It’s strong, powerful, but there’s a recognizable hint of plum and almonds that's comforting to him.

He can’t help a discreet, fond smile as your face scrunches from the sharp taste.

“I-I don't think I've ever had that before,” you cough out, your eyes slightly watery. It's endearing that no matter how much you drink, you never seem to build a tolerance to the sting of strong spirits.

“Slivovice. Plum brandy. The homemade ones are noticeably sharper than what they sell in stores here. Although… perhaps not as legal.”

You let out an amused cough, wiping away any tears before they get the chance to fall, smudging your mascara even more. But you're still smiling at him, decided, bold, never letting yourself be defeated by anything. It's like he's falling for you all over again in that single moment, outside of time and space.

Even in his darkest moments, when all else crumbles, you remain the unwavering light he can always find in the sky.

“I am a little surprised you remembered how to say that,” he admits softly.

What he had meant as a compliment seems to come off as a reproach in your eyes, and the smile falls, ending the magic of the instant.

“It may not always look like it, but I listen to you, Viktor,” you mumble, hurt. “I'm not an idiot, either.”

“I did not mean to imply-” he protests, but the words die in his throat. He opens his mouth by reflex, before closing it again; the sentence lingers incomplete in the air.

“…Why did you hang up?”

Here it is.

“Ah, so we're jumping into the questioning already. Alright,” he sighs. He chooses to stare at the bottom of his empty glass to avoid seeing your reaction. It's pitiful, but it'll spare him some of the pain and embarrassment. “I did not want to listen to what you would say, this once. I was scared if I heard your answer, it would all be real. Unchangeable.”

Change. Viktor had never been scared of the concept before. Change means something new, passing from one state to another, an evolution. It means progress. Nothing could ever be as gratifying, as glorious, as making the changes you want to see in the world.

But he didn't want you to change. He wanted you to stay just as you are, always excitedly talkative and brilliantly observant. Always shinning. A star brighter than any other, that could never fade no matter how the world treated her.

Revealing his feelings for you would have put that in harm’s way. You might think he had never truly been interested in your conversations, in all those ideas and words you feel so self-conscious about, and lose the trust you had in him as a friend.

He couldn't take that risk.

“So… you avoided me for two weeks ?” you scoff in disbelief.

He lets out a short, bitter laugh:

“I would have attempted longer if you did not break into my apartment.”

The poor attempt at a joke doesn't seem to land very well with either of you. The atmosphere feels still and heavy, the strange tension palpable.

“Ok,” you exhale, leaning your head back against the back of the couch. “You can ask me a question now.”

He glances at you in surprise:

“A question? Why?”

“So it's equal. I ask you one, you ask me one,” you explain simply, like it's the most basic rule of conversation in the world. “I haven't been attentive to what you were trying to tell me, for a long time. I need to change that.”

He hesitates for a second. There's a lot he wants to ask you. Had things been different, would you ever have considered him as someone you could fall for? If he could change the timing, the place, the words, would anything have made it so you could have loved him?

“You read people so easily,” he almost whispers. “I always assumed you knew how felt for you, but were too nice to tell me off. That you did not want to break what we had.”

It’s time. It's time for change. There is no other choice than to move forward. He continues:

“I am… sorry that I fell in love with you.”

Ah…

The weight seems slightly lighter on his chest. It's not a good feeling, exactly, but there's a certain peace that comes with finally having said it.

The expression on your face is yet again one he doesn't recognize.

“I'm not. I’m not sorry, Viktor,” you breathe out, hardly any louder than his respiration.

Your hand touches his, just barely, and he flinches, pulling away. But you refuse to back off. You reach for him again, your fingers timidly touching his own.

“Maybe I did know, in a way,” you reflect, a single digit moving across his knuckles, the ghost of a caress, “but I wouldn't let myself believe it. I didn't want to lose the only person I’ve ever felt wanted to listen to me. So… I stopped listening to my instincts, I guess.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

“I talk all the goddamn time and I don't even listen to myself.”

He turns his hand around, letting your index trace the lines of his palm instead.

“A fortune teller who can't read her own cards,” he teases gently. “Ironic.”

You scoff with a smile; your fingers intertwine, tentative.

“You're one to talk, asshole,” you huff playfully, “the big smart professor who can't figure out when someone is in love with him.”

His heart stops beating in his chest.

“Ah. You... you lo-” he stops himself before finishing his sentence, scared of pronouncing the word. He takes a shaky breath before he attempts again: “You feel the same way I…?”

He leaves the question open. He's still hesitant to make it real. Of saying the words that'll shift things. Because damn it, yes, Viktor is scared of change when it comes to you.

“I’m in love with you, Viktor,” you smile, like it's the most natural thing in the world. “Did the part where I broke into your apartment just to talk to you not give that away?”

What a strange feeling. He's dreamed of hearing those words from your mouth for so long, never believing they would, and yet it feels so right. As if you had told him a thousand times before this moment.

Maybe you had, in your own way.

He squeezes your hand, the sensation of your skin against his making it all feel impossibly real.

“I suppose we're both idiots,” he sighs gently, eyes locking into yours. “The blind oracle, and the clueless teacher. What a dynamic duo we make.”

Your forehead meets his, your nose just barely tickling his.

“I'd say we make a good duo. You and me,” you grin. You're so close he can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. He smiles.

“I'd say so as well.”

Taglist Darlings ❤️ : @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan , @just1cefor4ll , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth , @raynoway, @vyshnevaka , @ash-84321 , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[meo-eiru]

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day :)

I've just stumbled onto your blog and had been binging through your masterlist 😅

I'm not sure if this had been answered before but what if Silas' darling was an Artist or someone creative? Like Reader likes to draw them or if they crochet or knit, they like to make things for them or for his home

You are already the perfect being in Silas’ eyes from the moment he finds you but if he also discovers you have such talents the “annoying mom who only talks about her kid’s accomplishment” switch will turn on

Like omg you must be a genius! Surely no one else is talented as you! A miracle upon this earth! His baby is a prodigy yall!!!!

If you draw a portrait of him Silas will take it with tears in his eyes, his hands shaking. He’ll quickly hang it on the best wall in the house and place protective magic on it so that it won’t get damaged with time. Whenever he doesn’t have something to do you’ll catch him standing there looking at it while wiping a tear or two.

If you write something for him Silas will first drop everything he’s doing to read it, and then run outside to get you a new bookshelf so that you two can fill it with your writing. When you two go to sleep you can hear him still reading it. Instead of actually sleeping he’ll spend the night rereading it 300 times and then have the whole thing memorized by the next morning.

If you make him stuff he can use like accessories or clothes either from knitting or crocheting (or maybe you make things with beads?) Silas might try gluing it into his skin with magic so that it stays on 24/7. If you don’t stop him he might even try taking a bath with it on so please be careful.

For the next few weeks whenever he goes out either to buy food or take care of another business the only thing the other elves will hear from him is your genius talent. Yes the vegetables are very fresh but did you see this thing his baby made? Oh yeah the flowers are very colorful, but look at how cute this thing his baby made looks!! Oh but don’t look too hard, your creations are only for Silas’ eyes. Other elves don’t deserve seeing them too much

[thebestofoneshots]

A LITTLE BIT OF PAINT | TEASER

Piring: R.L. x S.B. x reader Prompt: Sirius and you are art students and you’ve gotten an assignment, a nude painting, but you can’t paint each other. Trying to convict Remus to model for you was hard enough, but painting him, while he looks so damn stunning, might prove a harder endeavour to accomplish. Warnings: the complete story will contain smut (this has some mild teasing and a few nudе scenes)

“So?” Sirius asked as he leaned onto Remus, “would you do it?” 

“Pretty please?” you asked with a small pout and a few blinks. 

Remus sighed, “Why don’t you just paint each other?” 

Both you and Sirius had been trying to convince Remus to be your nude model for an assignment for the last 20 minutes. He was your best friend, and both you and Sirius had always wanted to use him as a model, but had never been too keen to do it, not even clothed. But you needed him now. 

“We can’t do someone we’ve fucked,” Sirius said with a sigh, “We’d already done it otherwise.” 

“Just use each other and draw a face from a magazine,” Remus offered. 

“It won’t work either,” you responded now, “We’ve both been models for the class, they know our bodies. We wouldn’t be asking you if we didn’t need you, please Moony!” Remus looked to the side, licking his lips before biting on the bottom one and sighing, however could he say no to the two of you.

“Okay,” he whispered.

(...)

You took your hoodie off and then, but it wasn’t until you took a hold of your shirt and flipped it over your head that Remus realised what was going on. Your hands were behind your bra when he averted his gaze to the side completely blushed. “Sirius, If you’re painting her, can I leave?” 

“Of course not,” Sirius said simply, “I’m painting the both of you.” 

“You what?” 

“Eros and Psyche, remember?” 

“But you said you couldn’t paint people you’ve fucked,” he retorted in a rather accusing manner. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’ll switch her hair colour and you’ll cover her face.” 

“You never said I’d have to pose with your naked girlfriend!” 

“It’s okay Rem, I don’t mind, I’ve been a nude model for the class a couple of times.” 

Remus, as he would naturally turn to look at you when you spoke, but quickly turned his head to the side when he realised you were now completely naked. 

But I do! He thought as he tried to think of anything other than the curve of your breasts. Naked grandma, naked grandma.

You eyed Sirius, “Maybe we can–“ you started, biting your lip. 

“Nonsense. We’re all adults, go on.” 

You gave Sirius a stern look and he gave you back an equally determined one, nodding towards Remus, a clear indication for you to walk his way. 

You took a deep breath but did what he wanted anyway. Walking towards Remus and gently placing a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, If you really don’t want to do this-“

Remus’ head snapped your way, he focused his eyes on yours as best as he could, “No, I– I just– I wasn’t mentally prepared.” 

You smiled and tilted your head. You could see the self-restraint he was using not to look at your chest, Sirius was really trying not to cackle behind you as he sharpened his pencils, “You can look,” you said, “you’re gonna see them anyway Rem.” He gave you a frustrated frown. You smiled teasingly in return. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked. He was about ready to just stare for half a second and then move on with his life but he couldn’t quite look away. Not when he saw them perk up for him, his warm breath so close to you causing such a reaction. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sirius said with a smile from behind the easel. The kind of confident smile of one who knew he could touch them whenever he wanted. 

Remus cleared his throat and looked at Sirius. “Go on with your painting, yeah?” 

“You haven’t even posed,” he retorted with a smile. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “where do you want me?”

Remus tried not to think of those words, and not to memorise them either. He didn’t want to have dreams about it.

(...)

“Not really,” you said honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder a little more, that was something you had done often, with clothes, though. “I’ve never modelled with anyone other than Sirius. I only said I would because it would be you.” 

“You what?” Remus asked, you accommodated and your lips accidentally brushed against his neck, he felt the blush spreading, he was losing control. He couldn’t keep thinking of a naked grandma when he had you pressed against him, whispering on his neck, your warm breath against his skin igniting him like a match against dry leaves. 

A LITTLE BIT OF PAINT IS OUT NOW!!

Click on the link to read the full version

[endless-ineffabilities]

jealous ewan headcanon idea: how about matt and reader sitting down to have lunch together and ewan is fuming in the corner and then he tried to butt in by dragging his chair into the table and started trying to insert himself in the conversation? just a thought. 🥰

Love this! Got my mind racing, so read more below. A little something for my chem ov readers - I hope this finds you and I hope that Ewan drives you mad 😉💙

After the table read in part seven...

The cast and crew help themselves to catering after successfully accomplishing the table read. The adjacent meeting hall is decked out with various offerings, and everyone is scattered across several tables.

You've just gotten a plate of your food, Matt in tow, and the two of you settle down at one of the small circular corner tables that happened to have only two seats.

"Anything planned for the weekend?" you ask him.

"Why, love?" he asks, smirking. "Do you have something in mind?"

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling due to his blatant charm. You know you've been doing it too much.

"Well, I wanted to invite some of you over for drinks on Saturday night, and Emma and Liv will be busy going out of town, Phia has a date with her boyfriend, Bethany's got an audition, and I still have to ask the others really -

" - I'm in, why not?" he says.

"Oh!" you don't hold back your smile then. "That's great! I think Fabs might come, too, but only for a while since he promised Bella -

"What about Ewan?"

"What about me?" Ewan retorts suddenly, making his presence known. Unbeknownst to you and Matt, he had dragged another chair across the carpet, in order to join your table.

He twirls the chair in place in one hand, and plops down on it. He is positioned somewhat in the middle of yourself and Matt, but he is angled closer to you, laying a hand on the back of your seat. He sips his can of Coke for a second, then he repeats, "What's going on?"

"Oh, mate, just - " Matt starts to explain.

"It's nothing," you find yourself cutting him off, growing pissed off by the way Ewan just inserted himself in the conversation. His tone doesn't leave much to be desired, either. You add, "We were just talking about the script. You did well, and we're just happy for Aemond and where his story is going."

Matt is confused as to why you don't just invite Ewan as well, but he notices the tense air between the two of you and the way your shoulders stiffened at his proximity. He decides to let it go.

"Though of course, your scenes are just excellent this season, aren't they?" Matt points to you. "Especially the ones with Daemon."

Ewan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing, due to Matt's apparent audacity to flirt with his girl.

"Mhmm," you smile, "I do get some good ones. I must say I really liked - "

Ewan interjects, "Alyna did have two scenes with Aemond towards the end. And even in those, she's got a more charged dynamic than what she has with Daemon."

"Alyna and Aemond?" Matt scoffs. "Come on, mate. She wouldn't fraternise with the enemy!"

Ewan shakes his head, "I wouldn't say no, I mean, what she and Aemond have is something... chemical, you know? Riveting. The tension is electrifying, so to speak. Whereas with Daemon, it's more tame and... familial."

"Uhhh - " you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You mull his words over, and you know he's right.

But Matt counters with, "Is that so? Well, you know what they say about Targaryens. They like to keep it in the family. So there's nothing wrong with Daemon and Alyna acting familial, if you know what I mean." He laughs dryly, before throwing you a cheeky wink.

You respond in kind, snorting at his humour while shaking your head fondly.

"Mmm." Ewan simply hums, before taking a long, slow sip of his drink.

He thinks of The Battle Above The Gods Eye, and how it will be such an insane and challenging scene.

Daemon against Aemond?

He can't wait.