#but also wanting them to look like messy handwriting

[bleulikedaylight]

Ms. Delinquent, Natasha

pairing: delinquent basketball captain! natasha romanoff x student council president! reader

synopsis: Y/N L/N, perfect student council president, gets paired with the school’s worst nightmare—rebel basketball captain natasha romanoff—for a major project. she’s late, annoying, and impossible to work with. but one unexpected moment makes Y/N wonder… is there more to natasha than the chaos she brings?

warnings: mild cursing + tell me if i missed anything !! | wc: 3.8k | genre: wlw (as always <3), romance, fluff, high school au !! ;p

note: hii !! thank you so much for reading my work. just a quick heads-up—english isn’t my first language, so i’m really sorry in advance for any grammatical errors !! T^T

also, feel free to send messages, asks, requests, or literally whatever—i love hearing from people, and i swear i don’t bite (unless you want me to? jk, i'm so cringe 😔☝️)

anyway, i just noticed i accidentally made a second blog instead of a whole new account… so if you follow me and an account with the username @definitelynotbleu followed you—that's me. that’s my main blog, because apparently, tumblr said “you can’t follow people using your side blog.” like okay. thanks, i guess? ☹️💔💔

i’m lowkey considering just making a whole new account and moving all my fics there because this setup is slowly driving me insane. BUT I’M ALSO KINDA LAZY SO. WE’LL SEE. also i haven’t even made a masterlist yet. i’m cooked. actually beyond cooked. overcooked. burnt. ashes. 🥀🥀🥀

(ALSO I’M SO SORRY FOR VERY LONG AUTHOR NOTES I’M JUST A YAPPER OKAY T^T)

part one ♡‧₊˚ part two ‎♡‧₊˚

The next day, you show up to school with a venti coffee, three hours of sleep, and a list of tasks color-coded in pastel highlighters. You’re not thinking about her. You’re not. You have work to do. You have plans. You are a woman of discipline. You are the student council president.

And then she walks into the classroom like she didn’t just emotionally destabilize you twelve hours ago.

She’s in her varsity jacket, gym bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in. One of them falls out as she moves, and you catch the faint sound of Arctic Monkeys. Of course she listens to Arctic Monkeys. You hate that it suits her.

She sees you. She nods. Calm. Collected. Like last night’s heart-attack-inducing flirtation didn’t happen.

You scowl.

She smirks.

Wanda leans over to whisper, “You’re glaring like she stole your planner.”

“She might as well have,” you mutter.

—

You meet after school again, this time in the student council office. She shows up ten minutes early and eats all the jelly beans in your organizer tray. You tell her off. She just shrugs and asks for more.

Somehow, it becomes a thing.

Every day for a week, Natasha Romanoff shows up. Sometimes with food. Sometimes with new bruises. Once, with a notebook full of genuinely helpful project notes, written in messy, slanted handwriting. She has surprisingly good insights, you have to admit.

But it’s not just the work. It’s the way she listens. The way she leans back in the chair, arms crossed, watching you with something between curiosity and amusement, like you’re a puzzle she’s enjoying solving.

It’s unsettling.

It’s distracting.

It’s maddening.

Especially when she starts casually touching you. Nothing scandalous—just light taps on the shoulder when you make a joke, her knee brushing yours under the table, taking the pen out of your hand when you’re overthinking the sentence structure.

"Relax, President. You’re not writing the Constitution."

You swat her hand. “I am setting a standard.”

She grins. “Yeah. A very adorable, very high-strung one.”

You want to scream.

And then—she starts drawing on your notes.

Like, full-on doodling hearts on the margins when you’re focused on your laptop.

“You’re vandalizing school property,” you say, eyeing the tiny cartoon of a girl with your hairstyle next to one with her haircut.

“Correction,” she replies without looking up. “I’m customizing history.”

You blink. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Depends. Are you flattered?”

You throw a highlighter at her face. She catches it with one hand. You hate how cool that was.

—

It gets worse when she starts appearing outside of project hours. One morning, she joins you in line at the school caf. Orders black coffee and a muffin. Pays for your iced coffee without asking. When you try to protest, she tilts her head.

“What, you don’t like muffins?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

You don’t answer.

Next time you go to your locker, there’s a sticky note on the inside door.

You stare at it for an absurd amount of time.

Wanda finds you still holding it twenty minutes later.

—

And then there’s the basketball practice.

You don’t normally attend. But your vice president is managing the halftime event and drags you into helping.

So you’re there, clipboard in hand, head spinning with logistics—until the buzzer sounds and Natasha Romanoff is suddenly there, sweat-soaked, breathing hard, hair in a messy ponytail, grinning like she just won the world.

She finds you in the crowd. She winks.

You look away so fast you almost pull a muscle.

Wanda catches the whole thing. “Do not make me be the one to say it.”

“Say what?”

“You’re falling for her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”

“I can’t stand her.”

“You stood outside for three hours watching her throw a ball into a net.”

“It was for the halftime event.”

“You made the flyer.”

You have no comeback.

—

Then comes Friday.

Project submission day.

You meet in the library to print the final version. Natasha shows up with two drinks—your usual order and something new for you to try. You hate how thoughtful it is.

“So, we’re done,” you say, double-checking the pages.

“We are.”

“No more late-night messages.”

“No more weekly meetings.”

“No more walks home.”

She says nothing.

You look up. Her face is unreadable.

“We’ll go back to being classmates,” you offer, almost as a question.

She nods slowly. “Right. Classmates.”

Why does that feel like a loss?

Before you can say anything else, someone calls her name.

A girl you vaguely recognize—varsity, volleyball, always surrounded by people. She walks over, all smiles and confidence, and hands Natasha a note.

“From me,” she says, touching her arm.

You freeze.

Natasha takes it, unreadable again. “Thanks.”

The girl walks away, not even sparing you a glance.

You stare at the paper. Then at her. You’re not sure what expression you’re making, but Natasha blinks.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, too fast.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Jealous?”

“What?! No!”

She leans in, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Relax, president. It’s just a love letter. Happens all the time.”

You bite your tongue. You’re not jealous. You’re not.

But you go home annoyed.

And when she doesn’t text you that night, you keep checking your phone anyway.

—

—

The next week is chaos.

Event week. Schedules, permissions, venue requests. You bury yourself in work. You avoid the gym wing. You skip the caf. You go out of your way to not see her.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because Natasha doesn’t chase you. She doesn’t text. Doesn’t show up. Doesn’t ask what’s wrong.

You don’t want her to. Except you do.

You hate her.

Except you don’t.

And then it’s Thursday.

You’re reviewing final logistics with your committee when the door opens.

Natasha walks in.

Everyone freezes.

You blink. “Can I help you?”

She walks up and hands you a folded paper.

“Coach needed this signed.”

You take it. “Okay.”

She doesn’t leave.

You glance up. “Anything else?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to see you.”

You almost drop the pen.

Wanda chokes on her drink.

Natasha leaves before you can reply.

—

Later, your phone buzzes.

You stare at the screen.

You don’t.

That night, you can’t sleep.

Because maybe you miss working with her too.

Maybe you were wrong about her. Maybe she’s not a complete walking red flag. Maybe she’s just... complicated. Rough around the edges. Mysterious in a way that makes you want to keep learning more.

Maybe you’re in trouble.

And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

—

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal.

Just a message. Just a moment. Just Natasha being… Natasha.

And yet, three days later, you're still re-reading that "i miss working with you" text like it’s a published poem.

It’s embarrassing.

Wanda calls you out during lunch. “You’re staring at your phone like it owes you tuition money.”

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, stabbing your salad with unnecessary force.

Yelena snorts. “She still hasn’t asked you out, huh?”

“I am not waiting for her to ask me out.”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “Would you say yes?”

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t know.

Because maybe you would.

—

The rain starts mid-afternoon.

Hard. Fast. The kind that floods the quad and knocks down your color-coded event posters. Not metaphorical, poetic rain. Actual, annoying, soak-your-socks rain. You’re standing under the broken awning outside the school gym, binder clutched to your chest, watching your hard work dissolve into paper mush.

You’re in the school grounds, fuming, clipboard soaked, when she finds you.

“Event prep not going well?” she asks, casually offering her umbrella.

You don’t take it.

She holds it over both of you anyway.

“I worked so hard on those signs,” you mutter. “And now they’re dead. Murdered. By the sky.”

Natasha looks at the puddles like she can beat them up for you. “Wanna make new ones?”

You blink at her. “Why would you help me?”

She shrugs. “Because I like you.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“You what?”

“I like helping you,” she clarifies, emphasis deliberate. “You’re cute when you’re stressed.”

You sputter. She smirks.

“Also, I brought snacks,” she adds, pulling a plastic bag out of her varsity jacket. “Thought you might forget lunch again.”

You hate how well she knows you. You hate how that makes your heart do a thing.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

She hands you a rice ball. “So, what’s the plan, boss?”

You look up at her. Rain falling, your shoes soaked, everything a mess—and suddenly it doesn’t feel so bad.

“Plan is… save the event. Rewrite everything. Get glitter glue. Hope for divine intervention.”

Natasha grins. “Finally. A mission worthy of my talents.”

—

That night, you work together again. Just like before.

But it’s not just like before.

Now there’s this thing between you. A current, a tension, an almost.

She sits closer. Laughs more easily. Steals your pen, your snacks, your attention.

You tell her to focus.

She tells you to loosen up.

And at one point—when your hand accidentally brushes hers and you both freeze for half a second too long—you think: this might actually be something.

—

By Friday, everyone notices.

Wanda keeps sending you suspicious side-eyes. Yelena openly teases Natasha in front of you. Even the teachers are acting weird, like they’re expecting a plot twist.

You try to ignore it.

But it’s hard when Natasha keeps finding excuses to be near you.

“Forgot my book. Oh look, we have the same one.”

“Need help carrying that? You clearly skipped arm day.”

“You busy later? I found this new café. They have your favorite coffee.”

It’s maddening. It’s sweet. It’s maddeningly sweet.

You are losing your mind.

—

Then comes the night before the event.

You’re in the auditorium, double-checking lights and stage cues. Natasha shows up, of course. She’s holding a flashlight in her mouth and balancing a roll of tape on her head.

“You’re not on the logistics team,” you tell her.

She drops the tape. “Nope. Just here for moral support. And also to see your cute boss voice again.”

You try not to blush. Fail miserably.

“You’re annoying,” you say.

“I know.”

A pause.

“You’re… kind of important to me,” you say suddenly. Quiet. Unexpected even to yourself.

Natasha looks up. Serious now. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Just… thought you should know.”

She crosses the stage, stops in front of you, eyes soft in the dim lighting.

“You’re important to me too,” she says. “And not just for school projects.”

Your heart flips. Or malfunctions. Or possibly explodes.

She leans in. You panic.

You shove a clipboard between you. “I-I still have to check the mic system!”

Natasha blinks. Then laughs. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Pres."

—

Later that night:

—

And then, the day of the event arrives.

Everything runs perfectly.

The crowd cheers. The booths look amazing. Your team is killing it.

And in the middle of it all—between speeches, music, and chaos—you feel her watching you.

She’s not trying to hide it.

You glance at her.

She grins.

You grin back.

—

The event ends with a bang. A literal bang.

Someone in the STEM booth miscalculates the chemical reaction for their demo volcano. You hear the fizz, you smell the vinegar, and then—

Boom.

Foam everywhere. It explodes so violently it hits half the hallway. Your shoes are soaked. Your socks are crying. Your bangs are sticking to your forehead. And right next to you, Natasha Romanoff looks like she just walked out of a shampoo commercial—except her face is covered in pink foam, and she’s wheezing.

“You’re laughing?! This is your fault—”

“How is it my fault that the Science Club can’t count?!”

“You egged them on!”

“I told them to go big or go home!” she says, wiping foam from her jaw. “They just… went nuclear.”

You glare. She grins. And then she reaches out—

Flick.

Right on the center of your forehead.

“Relax, Miss President. You look like a very angry bubble tea.”

“I swear, Romanoff—”

She brushes foam from your nose. “Still the cutest bubble tea on campus, though.”

You stare at her.

You forget how to speak.

You nearly combust on the spot.

—

Later that night, the chaos finally dies down. You’re still buzzing from the noise, the laughter, the adrenaline of pulling off an entire school event without anyone setting the curtains on fire (the foam doesn't count, okay). You sneak off behind the gym—because it’s quiet there, and because you know she’ll follow.

She does.

Varsity jacket slung over her shoulder. Tired eyes. Twisted smirk. That lazy, confident swagger like she didn’t just help you keep the student body from collapsing into absolute anarchy.

“Hey,” she says softly.

You look up from your clipboard. “You survived the foam-pocalypse.”

“Barely.”

She walks over, sees you shiver, and wordlessly drops her jacket onto your shoulders.

You go still.

“…Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She leans against the wall beside you. You're seated on the bench, curled under her jacket like a burrito. She watches you. Quiet. Soft.

“You did good today, Pres.”

You glance at her. “I had help.”

She shrugs. “I just followed orders.”

You roll your eyes. “You literally yelled at a sophomore to stop lighting incense indoors.”

“He was summoning good vibes.”

“He was summoning a fire hazard.”

She laughs. You bite your lip to hide your smile.

“…Can I tell you something?” she asks, voice suddenly quieter.

You nod slowly.

She shifts. Leans down slightly, just enough that you can see the way her eyes flicker nervously before she brushes your hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek.

“I like you,” she says. “Not just for school. Not just for events. I like you, Y/N. Like, like-like you.”

Your heart stops. Your entire body goes still.

You stare.

Then—“Took you long enough.”

Natasha blinks. “Wait—what?”

You laugh—light and breathless. “You think I didn’t notice the forehead flicks? The snacks? The weirdly specific coffee orders? The way you walk me home and then pretend it’s not a big deal?”

Natasha looks faintly betrayed. “I was being subtle!”

“You’re literally six-foot-two and smirk at me like a YA love interest. Nothing about you is subtle.”

She gasps. “Are you comparing me to a Wattpad boy?”

“I shouldn’t, but yes.”

Natasha groans into her hands. “This is the worst confession ever—”

You reach up, grab her hands, and pull them down gently.

“I like you too, Delinquent.”

She goes silent.

Then she flicks your forehead again. “I knew it.”

“Ow?!”

“Deserved.”

You grab her collar before she can pull back and lean your forehead against hers, still giggling.

“You’re infuriating.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

You kiss her cheek. She actually short-circuits.

—

—

You barely sleep that night.

Too giddy. Too electrified. Too busy replaying every second of her smile, her laugh, the way she short-circuited when you kissed her cheek.

The group chat keeps blowing up—Wanda’s in full meltdown mode, Yelena’s already planning the wedding, and you… you’re floating.

But the world doesn’t stop just because your crush finally confessed.

The next day arrives fast. Loud. Demanding.

And before you know it—

The interschool basketball match begins.

You shouldn’t even be in the gym.

You��ve got student council paperwork spilling out of your arms, a working list of urgent tasks highlighted in pastel chaos, and three missed calls from your VP asking where the sign-up forms are. Your planner is a warzone, your phone is blowing up, and you haven’t eaten since breakfast.

But you’re here.

Sitting beside Wanda, Yelena, and Kate in the front row of bleachers, legs crossed, hands clenched in your lap, trying very hard not to watch the court.

You tell yourself it’s just for school spirit. You're here to support the school. Support the team.

It’s not about her.

It’s never about her.

Except it’s absolutely about her.

Because Natasha Romanoff is on the court, and for the first time ever, she’s… off.

Her passes are sloppy. She misses two layups in a row. Her defense is late. Her rhythm? Gone. There’s a visible crack in her composure—she’s snapping at teammates, cursing under her breath, yanking at the hem of her jersey like she can pull herself together through sheer will.

“She’s spiraling,” Kate says quietly.

Yelena’s brows furrow. “She doesn’t play like this. Ever.”

“She looks—nervous?” Wanda says, watching closely. “She keeps glancing at the bleachers.”

You force yourself not to move.

Not to flinch.

Not to let the burn in your chest show.

Because she is glancing. Over and over again. Her eyes are scanning the stands, sharp and desperate, like she's looking for something—or someone—and not finding them. Each time she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, her face hardens. Her jaw tightens.

“She’s looking for you,” Yelena murmurs, like she’s just realized.

You press your lips into a thin line.

“She thought you wouldn’t come,” Wanda whispers.

And for a moment, you almost don’t.

But then—

Then she misses another shot. The crowd groans. She slaps her hands against her thighs, furious.

And suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“God,” you mutter, already standing, “if I get suspended for this—”

You cup your hands around your mouth and yell across the court before your brain can catch up.

“ROMANOFF! PLAY LIKE YOU MEAN IT!”

The whole gym stops.

Like, actually stops.

Every head turns. The air shifts. Even the referee pauses.

And Natasha?

She freezes.

Her eyes snap to you instantly—like she’d been waiting for that voice all game.

And when she finds you?

Her whole expression changes. Like she can breathe again.

The corner of her mouth twitches. A breathless laugh escapes her. Her shoulders roll back. Then—

She moves.

Sharp. Precise. Lethal.

The Natasha everyone knows is back.

She steals the ball from the opposing point guard like it’s nothing, darts down the court, and scores with a clean, perfect shot that wipes out the tension from the past ten minutes.

From that moment on, the game shifts. Momentum tilts.

Natasha becomes unstoppable.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until the final buzzer sounds—Natasha’s team winning by two points. The crowd explodes into cheers.

You clap automatically. Just once. Then grab your things, ready to disappear before anyone processes what just happened—

But she doesn’t go to her team.

She doesn’t wait for the trophy, or the coach’s speech, or the photos.

She runs.

Straight. To. You.

Through her teammates, through the crowd, ignoring her coach yelling her name and the players trying to high-five her.

You blink as she stops in front of you—sweaty, panting, eyes burning with something so raw it makes your chest ache.

“Hi,” she breathes, like the world’s been holding its breath without you.

You stare. “Hi?”

“You came,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I thought—” she shakes her head, words failing. “You weren’t there. I looked and you weren’t—”

“I was late,” you admit softly. “I had council stuff—”

“I thought I ruined everything,” she whispers.

You frown. “Romanoff—”

“I couldn’t see you,” she continues, like it’s been sitting in her throat the whole game. “I kept looking and you weren’t—God, I thought I lost you.”

You blink fast, something thick in your throat. “You didn’t.”

A pause.

And then—

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, not a tease this time. Just desperate. Just honest. “I—I need to know this is real.”

Your heart is pounding.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You can.”

She kisses you.

Right there. In the middle of the gym. In front of literally everyone.

It’s messy. Breathless. Charged with too much feeling and not enough time. Her hands slide into your hair, holding on like she’s still scared you’ll vanish.

Gasps ripple through the crowd. Wanda screams. Kate chokes. Yelena straight-up punches the air.

And when Natasha finally pulls back, she leans her forehead against yours and breathes, “Don’t do that again.”

“Do what?” you ask, dazed.

“Disappear,” she says. “Make me play like a rookie. Make me lose my mind.”

You grin despite yourself. “You were that bad?”

She scoffs. “I nearly fouled out looking for you.”

You try to look smug. “Guess you need me around, huh?”

Natasha leans in, brushing her nose against yours.

“Guess I do, President.”

The crowd is still roaring. Someone’s taking photos. The coach is yelling in the distance.

But all you feel is her.

And for the first time in weeks, everything finally makes sense again.

You sigh, dramatic and hopeless. “I’m so doomed.”

She kisses you again, softer this time.

“Yeah,” she murmurs against your lips. “But at least now you’re doomed with me.”

—

The next morning, Natasha walks up to you in the middle of the hallway.

She’s in her varsity jacket.

You’re in her hoodie from last night.

Everyone sees.

She stops in front of you. Smirks.

You squint. “Why do you look like you’re about to say something embarrassing?”

“Because I am.” She flicks your forehead again. “Hi, baby.”

Your entire soul leaves your body.

Wanda SCREAMS from across the hallway.

Yelena fist-pumps.

Natasha leans in, lips near your ear.

“Now everyone knows you’re mine, Pres.”

You elbow her. Lightly.

She catches your hand.

Doesn’t let go.

Then threads her fingers through yours like it’s always been that easy.

And maybe it is.

Because from the way your heart leaps, the way her thumb brushes yours—

You realize you’ve been hers all along.

[ladyhavilliard]

mo dao zu shi tarot

the hanged man:  pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives

wheel of fortune | jin guangyao

death | wei wuxian

the tower | jiang cheng

[dustylovelyrun]

I feel like I'm going absolutely insane, but. Those stupid little wooden pencils that schools issue out or that you'd buy specifically because they're allowed, like the HB standard exam ones or whatever. It feels very wrong to write or draw with them unless all the paint is stripped from the exterior, right? Like it doesn't matter how sharp they are, it's all this stupid, glossy, blunt feeling graphite that doesn't make any of the marks right?

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd head canons that have accumulated over time

many thoughts about the boy constantly rattle around my brain and i would like to share them ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) nothing hanky panky ish for i do not like to think about that

general bullshit ᝰ.ᐟ

he doesnt trust modern technology. he has a Motorola razr. no he will not upgrade, stop asking

has VERY messy hand writing. straight chicken scratch. barley legible

smoked during his late teens (post resurrection period, he was going through it). tried quitting in his early twenties, he bought a menthol flavour geek bar but threw it out cause Roy made fun of him

it wasnt even one of the cool ones with a screen. smh

he has a weird nostalgic affection for the thrift

it reminds him of being a kid, in the rare moments that his mother was sober enough to take him somewhere. and it was nice, his mom was conscious, all was well

and he could get whatever he wanted! he wanted a toy? sure bud, its only a dollar. why the hell not?

he recently walked into a Goodwill and damn near burst an artery when he looked at the tag on a pair of pants. it was NOT like this back in his day

his hair is like wavy, like not curly but wavy. however, he has no idea how to really care for it. shits dry is what im saying

i think hes very competitive about stupid shit

not like he gets pissy about mario kart, he will race you to see who can fold their socks the fastest

largest of the batfam. vertically and horizontally. hes a beefy dude. a brick shithouse

i think hes also the kind of dude that needs to know someone very well before he could consider dating them. id even go as far to say hes somewhere on the aro spectrum

i think he has a very high spice tolerance. like youll pry his siracha out of his cold re-dead hands. he LOVES African curry (yes this one is based off me) thats like his perfect kind of spice

back to his hatred of technology, he collects cds to listen to instead of streaming

he has one of those hip disk players with the headphones. Red Hood has been seen with a walkman

also hates tv, but will watch the news willingly. he will sit down and watch Wolf Blitzer of his own accord

romantic (୨୧• ꒳ •)=:♡

remember when i said he has the handwriting of an 18 month old toddler? yea well thats a little unfortunate cause he LOVES leaving notes for his lover. when he has to slip out the window for a job in the middle of the night, he writes a little note - “had to take care of something, be back soon. with bagels. love, Jay :)” but its written so janky his lover is spending the whole time hes gone trying to decipher it

dont tell him that though, he might cry

hes not a talker particularly. words tend to come out wrong in his experience. instead, he likes gifts acts of service to show you he cares

shopping with him and youre eying a particular top for a while? guess what’s mysteriously appeared in your laundry basket

lowq doesn’t have motion though..soo it might have been Bruce card. but honestly? money is money who gaf

what he occasionally lacks in funds he makes up for in willingness to let you do whatever you want to him

he will waddle after you in sephora, freaking out the occasional employee cause holy FUCK who invited the punisher, letting you swatch whatever you want on his hand

if you’re concerned about the milk in the fridge being yuck, give it to him to taste. he’ll let you know

there is no mountain to high, no dubious forgotten leftover too unhappy looking

cannot cook for SHIT. but he loves to eat

he will mention wanting food and stare at you longingly until you go to the kitchen

hes not gonna be playing fortnite while you’re cooking though, he can chop stuff. you may not want him within 50 feet of a place where food is prepared but he will offer

bless his heart

runs hot like a furnace. probably because hes a large meaty boy

he will grumble like a pensioner when you tuck yourself into his chest at night when its cold, but we both know damn well hes gonna be giggling and kicking his steel toed boots when he tells Roy about it later

he had pretty mixed, strewing negative opinions, about his little white tuft of hair at the front. hes tried cutting it, it grew back the same. he bought box dye, it doesnt take. so hes stuck with it. and he cant say hes happy about it

until you came along, all full of love and life, telling him you loved it. you though it framed his face perfectly and suited him great. you and your fancy affection fuck you

(he was cheesing for hours)

okay lets get sad now

hes got BADD anxiety about hurting you without meaning to. its a reasonable concern, hes a big dude. and these hands dont do a lot of cradling as a rule, more beating heads in

he needs to be reassured, but would rather roll around in broken glass then swim in lemonade than let that be known. hes more of a stare at you until you sooth him

he likes to be kissed and cuddled and cared for. so what? hes only incredibly ashamed. it doesnt matter how many times you re iterate that he has no reason to be, hes a stubborn bitch

thats all ive got! i hope you enjoyed reading my real time jason todd related word association. most of these were typed in a fury on the mobile web app on the subway so..if the formatting is yucky thats up to god (-.-;)y-~~~

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

Unhappy Birthday

pt 4.5 (again)

filler (again)

Growing up, you never really celebrated your birthday.

You grew up with people who had either completely forgotten you or were trying to forget you.

You never even realized people celebrated them until one day when you were younger, Dick brought his friends over to celebrate his birthday.

Since then you've tried celebrating your birthday.

You tried to have a tea party with paper invitations you made only for them to be crumpled up and thrown into the trash.

Over time, you had gotten used to not celebrating them, only getting a couple of "happy birthday" from friends.

You didn't need gifts either, you technically had all the money in the world to buy whatever, whenever.

You never even got to blow out a candle on a single cupcake.

So it wasn't surprising that you'd forget your birthday sometimes.

You never really celebrated your birthday.

You were sad about it growing up, but you soon realized you didn't want to celebrate with them anyway.

It was pretty late in the morning.

You were dead asleep on your bed at the manor.

It was a weekend and you were taking advantage of how you could sleep in bed all you wanted. You had just gotten back from patrol and school.

Little did you know, all your friends had been up all day and night making you a little special something.

"She won't like it like that- cmon just hand me it-!" Miles argued while pulling on the tablecloth that was party-themed

"Oh cmon, everyone knows she would want f/c themed party!" Pavitr argued back while placing the tablecloth of your favorite color onto the table

"Boys, stop fighting! At this point, if you guys keep acting like this Y/N won't have a party on time!" Rio yelled from in the kitchen.

"Sorry ma! Just give us a second, we will figure it out!" Miles said back while pulling on the tablecloth

"Yes, just a moment Ms.Morales!" Pavitr called, while pulling on the tablecloth as well. It looked like a game of tug of war.

Then they ripped the cheap tablecloth.

It ripped right in the middle.

Pav and miles stopped right then and there.

"..Fuck." Miles stared right at the rip.

"Shhiittt." Pavitr said while pulling on his hair, a bit dramatically.

"Pav, we can figure something out," Miles said while taking Pav's hands off his hair.

While Miles and Pav were coming up with ideas, Hobie was busy putting up the 'happy birthday' banner on the wall.

The only thing that was messing it up was that one side couldn't stay up.

If the left side stayed up, the right side would fall.If the right side stayed up, the left side would fall.

Once he finally got it right, it all fell.

In the kitchen, Gwen and Peni were working on your cake.

Peni is a pretty good cake decorator, and you taught Gwen how to bake pretty well.

The cake was gonna be great!

...The only thing is since the kitchen was sort of crowded and people kept bumping into them, the cake came out looking a little dumb.

It was lopsided and the handwriting was crooked. You could make out the words, but it was messy.

While Peni and Gwen were figuring out ways to fix it, Peter B was fixing out the gift table.

It would be pretty easy if Maydays the new literal sticky hands could stop sticking to the tissue paper in one of the gifts.

Somehow, for the next few hours, there was tissue paper all over the floor.

The most calm and collected ones had to be Rio and Jess. The food they were making smelled delicious and took over the house.

The only issue? They were the ones also solving the problems with the kids.

Every two minutes they had to stop and scold one of the kids to stop doing something bad.

Jeff was making sure you didn't get here early, and that no one he didn't approve of (your family) came in.

Noir and Ham were trying to fit your comically large gift into the room, which was very difficult since it was stupidly big.

While this was all happening, you were sleeping on your bed. Suddenly you woke up when you got a text from Miguel.

Spider-dad: Get ready.

You: wyat

ehat*

whay*

what*

Wgywhu*

why*

Spider-dad: Hurry.

You:??ok

Well, that made no sense.

You got ready for the day, decided to skip breakfast since you didn't wanna see your family, and put on your shoes.

You realized you felt like you were forgetting something.

Have you forgotten a friend's birthday?

No, you had all of their birthdays on a calendar and memorized them too.

Maybe it was an assignment you forgot to turn in?

Yeah, it was probably that.

You ran to your bathroom to brush your teeth, and you felt that familiar feeling.

Miguel was here!

"I'm coming, just wait a minute!" You yelled from the bathroom, still brushing your teeth.

You ran out and dabbed him up as soon as you saw him.

You started dabbing people up out habit after you saw Miles and Pavitr do it.

"So, where are we headed?" You asked while grabbing your wallet.

"We are going out to eat," Miguel said while standing awkwardly stiff like usual.

"Oh, where?" you asked, tilting your head

"that's classified." he turned his back towards you dramatically and you tried not to laugh.

"well can I at least get a piggyback ride on the way?" you asked, jokingly. You thought there was no way he was gonna do it.

He squatted down. "get on." he grumbled.

You immediately hopped on before he could change his mind.

You guys swung around for a while, it was honestly surprising how no one saw you.

You took a tiny nap while he swung. You woke up to you guys both being in front of your favorite breakfast place.

You remembered how you had once begged Dick to take you. he promised you he would take you.

Only to cancel last minute, when you were ready to go.

Turns out he had also promised Damian that he would help him train.

It wasn't the first or last time this would happen.

You shivered the thought away. You didn't want to remember that, not right now at least.

You got off Miguel's back and walked in.

You guys got seated at a booth and you immediately ordered a milkshake.

You ended up drinking at least 3 by the time you were done with breakfast.

You also ordered your favorite breakfast foods, and Miguel ordered huevos con chorizo.

You guys talked about anything and everything for a while until the topic of your friends came up.

It was then you realized you hadn't gotten a single text from any of your friends all day.

Huh. Weird.

Usually, the group chat went crazy immediately in the morning.

You decided to just ignore it, they were probably all busy.

You still had that weird feeling you were forgetting something.

After breakfast, you and Miguel started walking around a shopping mall.

You didn't really wanna shop, you could buy anything you wanted with your monthly allowance, and that made everything boring.

So you both just walked around. You didn't wanna shop.

That was until you came across a build-a-bear workshop.

As soon as you guys walked by it, you stopped dead in your tracks and you stared at a bear.

One that was in your favorite color and holding a cute little guitar.

It was literally you.

You needed it so bad.

You dragged Miguel inside with you and you both got matching bears. you forced him to get one.

Funnily enough, your bears kind of looked like your costumes.

By the end of your bear shopping and walking around, it was evening.

Miguel told you to hop on his shoulders and close your eyes.

You listened and you felt like you were moving universes again.

Miguel dropped you off his shoulders.

"Open your eyes," Miguel said, stretching his back.

You listened and you felt a faint hum going off in the back of your head.

You both started walking towards a dark room in the society, one that was empty and usually just used for small meetups between friend groups.

You jumped as the lights turned on and you heard a "surprise" coming from all your family and friends.

You looked around in surprise.

The cake was crooked and you could barley make the writing.

The banner on the wall was slanted and held on by piles of web fluid.

The tablecloth was a mix of 2 tablecloths taped together half and half.

"..So thats what I was forgetting!" You looked like a lightbulb just went off in your head.

"What were you forgetting?" asked Peni as she passed you one of the balloons that said 'Happy birthday' on it

"My birthday! I forgot it was today!" you laughed to yourself a bit.

You and the others started celebrating. You've never had a party before!

Even if the party was a mess, you knew it came from a lot of people who cared about you.

When they took out the cake for you, you started crying a little out of happiness.

A couple of people checked up on you before you admitted it was out of happiness.

You opened your gifts.

Most of them were crafts, and the ones that weren't were things you were interested in that you didn't have in your universe and your friends had in theirs.

You ended the party smiling while passed out asleep next to your friends who were equally as exhausted.

You didn't notice Peter B. taking pictures of you guys.You didn't notice until the next time you came over to Miguel's apartment and saw the picture hung up on the wall.

why am. i writing fluff

im half aselep im so tired but heres this

i might write a valentines chapter in a bit but its prolly gonna be late isigh

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert

edit: I LITERALLY FORGOT TO ADD HASHTAGS OOF

[petrichoravis]

But you peeked right over somehow | s.r

summery: your disbelief in love has always held you back from a relationship with Spencer, but you think it's time to be brave now.

word count: 2k

warnings: reader is avoidant and makes some weird decisions, but, like, be nice to her please, she's scared; mentions of avoidant attachment style, toxic relationships (someone having made r feel stupid and worthless in the past) and of parents fighting, but nothing detailed; reader is also mentioned to be drunk once, but it’s in past tense and it’s really just the word mentioned. English is not my first language.

a/n: the pictures are obviously no indication of how reader looks, they are just there to make this all look pretty and aesthetically pleasing. I've tried my best not to describe any physical appearance of reader. reader means a lot to me, I hope you’ll like her. Also, the gorgeous!! dividers are not mine, all credits to @/enchanthings-a on tumblr. The title is from 'circling' by tiny habits

You didn't believe in love—not the one in the movies, anyway. Your sad attempts at it have always ended with you feeling lonelier than before and your parents… well, let's just say they're not the best example either. So you built the walls higher and higher, placing brick upon brick, so no one would be able to look over them.

Until you met Spencer.

He has nested himself between the bricks like wisteria and has been so impossibly stubborn, but so kind about it, too. Never asking for more than the few fleeting moments you had. To the point were you weren't even sure if you wanted to rid yourself of him anymore.

You had met him at a reading of your favourite book a few years ago. You had forgotten your book on your seat and he had ran out and handed it back to you, a white piece of paper with messy handwriting in black ink slipped in between the pages. I like your taste in books, maybe you could recommend me some:). it had said, with his number on the bottom.

You had been friends for a while after that, because you always blocked his attempts of turning what you had into more.

Until one drunken mistake on your side turned into two and the two of you decided that: friends kiss, right? (Well, you decided it, Spencer was just happy to go along with whatever you were most comfortable with.)

For a while you convinced yourself that whatever you were feeling—the butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart was racing every time he touched you—was just lust. It was easier than admitting that you were falling hopelessly in love with him.

So when you woke up this morning, in your bed with him sleeping next to you, you couldn't help but watch him. The way the soft morning light, shining through the silk curtains, drew shapes onto his skin, the way his brown curls framed his face. You just hardly resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, your hand curling into a fist so hard that your nails dug half-moon shapes into your palm.

You got up after a few moments. Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him. He landed in Virginia late after a case, but still decided to come over to your apartment, because he had forgotten something there. You ended up, self-sabotagingly, inviting him to stay the night and now you were here; with an angel in your bed and a devil on your shoulder.

You tip-toed into your kitchen, finally being able to breathe a little louder. Leaning onto the counter, hanging your head, you felt pathetic. This wasn't how things go for you, normally. You didn't pine and, even worse, yearn (you gagged at just the thought) for men like you were right now.

Then again, Spencer was far from normal.

And because of that, your heart was racing and you caught yourself, more often than not, at the bookstore in the classic section, asking yourself if Spencer had that copy of war and peace already. He probably did.

You scoff at yourself. Maybe you just needed to go to the club again. Cleanse yourself of this feeling. Forget about him and his stupid brown eyes, the way his hands feel when they— Stop.

"Are you okay?" A sleepy voice asks from the doorway.

You turn slowly. Spencer was still in his oversized gray sleep shirt, the fabric worn-out and thin. His hair a mess of brown, soft curls. God, get it together.

"Yeah," you mumble, "just…headaches."

He steps closer, careful, as if not to startle you. "Do you need anything? Ibuprofen?"

"No, I'm okay. Thank you."

He nods, but his eyes search your face. It’s clear that he knows something is off—he's a profiler, after all. He smoothes his hand over your wooden counter top and you wish so badly that those calloused hands were running over your skin instead.

"Breakfast?" You croak, already turning around and rummaging the cabinets for two mugs.

A hand finds your wrist, turning you around with a gentleness you're not sure you deserve. You pull away quickly, as if his touch burned you.

He frowns a little, but doesn't comment on it. "I'd love breakfast," he pauses, "Can you talk to me? Please?"

His idiotically big puppy-dog eyes and the way his hand feels on your skin makes you want to kiss him stupid.

So you do, impulsively. Kissing him was so much better than answering his questions and he might forget, as a good side affect—

Spencer pushed against your shoulders gently, untangling your lips from another after indulging for a short second—he was just a man, after all.

He knew that you were only kissing him to distract from the topic at hand and he also knew, that he would forget about this conversation too quickly if he let you.

"Not that I don't love kissing you, but something is bothering you and I want to understand what it is. So can you please talk to me?"

"About what?" You try and he looks at you, disbelieving.

"Come on—" he says your name, and it's so soft, "You've always been careful with the idea of an relationship with me, but it's been getting worse. You tense up every time I touch you and tip-toe around me. I just want to know if I did something to upset you. I want to fix it."

Your skin is crawling with his rejection of the kiss and you can't help the words of defensiveness bursting out of you. "You can't always fix everything, Spencer. I'm not just another case to solve."

Spencer doesn’t even flinch. "I know you're not. I'm sorry, my wording was off. I know something happened to you in the past and you need it slow and that's okay. I never pushed and I'm not pushing right now, but I want to understand what it is, what's going on in your head."

He was being so, so kind. You felt like crying. "Nothing! Nothing is going on in my head, just—" You feel like an animal in a cage, ready to chew off your foot to get out of the trap.

Spencer lets his hands drop from your shoulder to his side again, knowing you well enough to know that touch may not be comforting to you right now.

The gesture grounds you, reminds you that you are talking to kind, gentle Spencer, that he is only worried about you. So you try to reel back, trying your best to be just as kind, to be deserving of him. But you're a viper full of venom and you're sure you might never be able to purge it from your body enough to ever deserve him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, looking down at your miss-matched socks.

"It's okay. I understand." He's not sure what to do. An aggressive UnSub was nothing in comparison to you being uncomfortable and him being unable to help. "We don't have to talk about it. We can eat breakfast and I'll tell you about the stars again."

His lips quirk a little as you laugh, even if it was just the smallest sound, it was something.

"No, it's okay. I—" You have been knocking on Spencer's door and running away before he could welcome you in for too long. You have decided that you're ready to pass the doorstep now.

Your therapist has advised you to get out of comfort zone more, anyway, and if Spencer leaves after this conversation, at least you can go back to not believing in love. "I figured I had to tell you at some point. If I really wanted this to be a thing."

You gesture between the two of you at the last part, voice dropping to a quieter tone and you look up at him though your lashes without lifting your head.

He looks surprised. That's okay. You'll just laugh and pretend it was a joke—

"Yeah," he steps closer, brushing hair out of your face, "if that's what you want. I’m not forcing you to."

"I know you're not." You sigh, closing your eyes as his fingertips brush against your jaw. "Truth is, nothing really happened. I guess I've just had rotten luck in love."

The hair tie you're wearing on your wrist is suddenly so interesting and you chew on your lip to have something to do with your mouth, otherwise you'd just blurt out everything he wants to know.

"My parents have been fighting more than they haven't since I've been really young. Nothing too bad, but it was obvious that they weren't in love. I doubt they ever were."

Spencer doesn't say anything, choosing to let you finish without comment. He knows what's coming, he's been through it, too. Parents who fight, relationships that fail, never feeling loved in the way the movies show you. It can make you feel hopeless.

"I was a late bloomer, I guess. I've had my first relationship at twenty-two. Not that I cared, I had convinced myself that I didn't want love at that point, anyway. So when I did find it… I was elated. I thought, yes! finally it's my turn. Well, they hurt me quite badly, made me feel bad for everything that I didn't know, like—like they were better than me. Maybe they were, I don't know, it doesn't matter."

Ouch. Spencer thought. No one deserves that. Much less you. His hands find your wrist again and his thumb slides over your pulse point.

"They're not." He says with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe him. "Someone who makes people feel bad for trying to learn things is not, in any way, better than the person who is trying."

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. I— yeah. It's whatever. It just hurt in that moment."

You do that a lot, Spencer notes, pushing your feelings onto your past-self like they don't affect you now, when he knows they do. Or else you wouldn't be here.

"I did go on a few date after that," you continue after a short pause, "but I kept myself locked away pretty tightly. Never let it go further than the third date. A few years later, when I let someone else in, it got quite toxic, quite quickly. From both sides. We were dependent and avoidant at the same time. They were just…they showed me off a lot and were so gentle and kind, but I realised after a while that it was just their way of making sure I stayed. And I…I started feeling trapped and accused them of some pretty messed up stuff. We didn't make it really far after that."

Tears start building on your lash line and you look at the ceiling, begging them to stay buried. That was your tell, Spencer knew it too well. He brushed his thumb under your eyes.

"You don't have to." He murmurs.

"I'm almost done." You promise and look at him for the first time since you started the story. "I didn't have any serious relationships after that, just…harmless flirting, but I was too scared to let myself fall again. I never felt loved enough, I guess…or I was just selfish and greedy."

Spencer shakes his head. "You deserve the love you want." Ducking his head, he makes sure you're looking at him. "That's not selfish."

"I think I did." You whisper with the shyness of a high-school kid, eyes searching between his. "Find it, I mean."

The corners of Spencer's mouth lift into his wonderful smile and for once in your life you know you've said the right thing.

"Lucky me." He answers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him gently.

"Yeah. Lucky." You breathe out, wrapping your arms around his waist. It was clear that you don't quite know just how lucky someone must be to have you in their life and Spencer was going to work hard to make sure you will.

You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "Thank you." You whisper.

"Don't thank me yet." He chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling the top of your head. You melt into him at his words, as if his stupid joke had a magical soothing effect. Of course you'd thank him. You won't stop thanking him for being him until you were six feet under.

"I'm sorry for snapping. I just—"

"Don't. It's okay. You don't need to explain yourself to me." He says, earnestly, into your hair.

"I know I don't. It wasn't fair of me, though."

"Maybe. But better unfair and raw, than fair and polished. I want you, un-performing."

You sigh into his shoulder. Being open was hard when you've been burnt for it before and you knew there was much to overcome, but you didn't doubt one bit, that you could overcome every hurdle with the help of Spencer. Step by step growing on your walls together. Wisteria and ivy.

a/n: please don't hesitate to send me your thoughts and show support by re-blogging, commenting and liking if you liked the fic!!

[neptilius]

pre-dating gojo—him not giving up on her once his eyes are set on her. commenting on most of her pictures, following her on all her socials, having her and megumi pinned on his imessage , sending her flowers and little trinkets, him being the definition of “i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it.” wc; around 800

being a new teacher at jujutsu tech was overwhelming enough without the world’s most insistent sorcerer making you his personal project. from the moment you stepped foot onto the campus, satoru gojo had his sights set on you, and he wasn’t subtle about it. not even a little.

it started small at first, just lingering glances that made you wonder if you had something on your face. then came the compliments, always with that playful grin of his.

“looking sharp today,” he’d say casually, leaning against your classroom door. “you sure you’re not trying to impress someone?”

“just trying to look professional, gojo,” you’d reply, your tone firm even though his attention made your stomach flip.

but satoru gojo wasn’t one to give up when something, or someone, caught his interest.

within days, you noticed him popping up in your social media notifications. he’d followed you on everything, from instagram to twitter, even a random account you barely used. every post you made earned a comment, ranging from witty remarks to downright flirty observations.

“you really have an eye for photography,” he’d write under a scenic picture, only to follow it up with, “but the view isn’t as good as you.”

you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or laugh, but the attention didn’t stop there.

flowers began appearing on your desk, beautiful arrangements with little notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. chocolates followed, and once, even your favorite coffee order appeared like magic during a particularly grueling morning. you tried asking who was leaving them, but every time, his students would either look away awkwardly or mutter something vague.

megumi, however, had no patience for it. “it’s obviously gojo-sensei,” he said flatly one afternoon when you found yet another bouquet. “he’s been insufferable lately.”

“fushiguro!” nobara scolded, but the slight eye roll she gave made it clear she agreed.

satoru’s antics didn’t stop there. he began finding excuses to help you with your students, offering “expert training tips” that often turned into elaborate demonstrations meant more to impress you than anyone else.

“see that?” he’d say after a particularly flashy display of cursed technique, turning to you with a cocky grin. “bet you can’t teach them that.”

“because it’s not practical,” you’d retort, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

dont get me started on the memes chile... once you finally relented and gave him your number, your phone became a constant source of laughter; random memes, ridiculous videos, and occasionally, surprisingly thoughtful messages about your day.

“saw this and thought of you,” one text read, attached to a picture of a female cat on top of a male cat nuzzling noses.

it was impossible not to crack a smile, even if you tried to keep your responses measured.

but the cherry on top of gojo’s relentless pursuit? he’d even roped his students into it.

“you should just say yes already,” nobara said bluntly one day, crossing her arms as you prepared for a joint training session. “he’s annoying, but he’s also kind of great when you get past the… everything.”

megumi groaned. “don’t encourage her. he’s unbearable enough as it is.”

“he’s determined,” nobara corrected, smirking. “there’s a difference.”

you shook your head, trying to ignore how warm their words made you feel. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, that satoru’s persistence was starting to grow on you.

he was annoying, yes. overthetop? absolutely. but beneath the theatrics, there was a sincerity to his actions that you couldn’t ignore. he studied you, not in a creepy way. but in a way that made it clear he genuinely wanted to understand you.

the small things he did like— remembering your favorite snacks, asking about your hobbies, or noticing when you seemed stressed. spoke volumes about the kind of person he was beneath the surface.

one afternoon, after yet another “accidental” run in, you finally confronted him.

“what do you even want, gojo?” you asked, crossing your arms as you faced him in the courtyard.

he didn’t even flinch at your tone. instead, he smiled, that confident, playful grin softening ever so slightly.

“you,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

your breath hitched, and for once, you didn’t have a quick retort. maybe, just maybe, gojo’s persistence wasn’t as annoying as you thought.

[saphiccarma]

- Devil Woman

Relationships: Agatha Harkeness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Based on a request. You had the ability to shapeshift, but as a result you take the life force of the creature you shifted into. Rio Vidal is curious when she can't collect your soul and you somehow cheat death.

Warnings: Nothing really?

A/N: This took forever and I am so sorry. I am currently working through all the lingering requests and I apologise for it taking so long. That said, this was pretty fun to write but also sorry if it's shit.

Your powers came at a price, you've known that since you were little. Life in exchange for death. Power in exchange for weakness. At this point you considered it more of a curse than a power, but it came in handy at certain situations. In an attempt to blend in with society, hide from curious witches and relentless questions, you worked at a diner in the middle of nowhere. Well, not the middle of nowhere, it was still quite populated, especially now as customers flowed in with the sun high in the sky.

You bustled about, a tray balanced on your hand as you passed drinks and food out to your tables. Approaching a new pair of customers, you froze and your eyes narrowed. A woman who wore white clothes sat there. Next to her was a teenager, his clothes a complete opposite to hers, dark and moody. It wasn't their stark contrast that threw you off. Rather it was the subtle pull of magic that you felt. Not only that but her eyes were trained on you, and as you looked closer you knew who it was. Everyone knew those icy blue eyes and confident smirk.

Agatha Harkness.

Inhaling sharply, you neared them, plastering a fake smile on your face, "What can I get you guys today?"

The teenager glanced at Agatha, unsure. The older witch leaned forward. Her hands crossed under her chin as she smirked and caught your gaze.

"Come with us," she whispered, her voice taunting and alluring, "We're venturing the road and we need a full coven."

You scoffed at her words, lowering your pen and paper into your pocket once it was clear she wasn't actually ordering anything. There was an infuriating smirk plastered across her pink lips. You rolled your eyes, you had never believed in The Road, convinced it was something fake. No one came back from it alive. It stood to reason that it may not even exist.

"I'll pass." You settled your hands on your hips, "Now did you want to order something?"

Agatha huffed, leaning back in her seat and waving a dismissive hand. You nodded in satisfaction, about to turn away, when you felt a piece of paper slip into your pocket. Just barely you caught Agatha's hand slipping away. She made eye contact with you, an infuriating sense of confidence radiating off her.

You stomped off the back, yanking whatever she shoved in your pocket out. It was an address, scribbled out in messy, small, handwriting. Despite yourself, you couldn't help contemplate heading there that night.

^_____________^

You ran your fingers along the intricate door, tracing the familiar carvings carefully. The coven, plus Rio, stood behind you, their eyes boring into your back.

"This yours?" Rio asked, her breath warm against the back of your neck. She stood directly behind you, pressing up against you and ignoring your sidestep to get away.

Faintly, you nodded, grabbing the handle and pushing it in. Your heart pitter-pattered at the familiar interior, black and white pictures lining the walls and furniture that others nearly bumped into. It was a cluttered mess, just like when you had first moved in. Despite your inner turmoil, you reached down and picked up a picture, gripping the wooden frame tightly. Your parents stood side by side, proud smiles on their faces as they held baby you - chubby cheeks and just a spot of hair. Your lips were pulled wide into a gummy smile in the photo and your tiny hand was gripping your mother's shirt.

A bittersweet smile danced across your face at the picture.

"Are these your parents?" Alice stood off to your right, her own hands tracing pictures on the wall. The coven was enraptured by the serene house, the only personalized one so far. All the other's had been purely random, but yours was a house you had lived in.

You nodded, your voice soft, "Yeah."

Jen scoffed, her nose upturned as she studied the photos, and you resisted the urge to lunge at her. She had no right to be judging your family. Teen bounced on his toes excitedly and warmth spread through you as he ran a finger over an animal in the photos.

"You guys had a cat?"

You looked at the photo. It had your mother standing next to your father, his arm wrapped around her waist as he held her close, his face leaning down and noses brushing together. It captured their love perfectly. But perched on your mother's shoulder was a cat, one white as snow, that seemed to be chirping indignantly. You remembered that day clear as day, your parents wanting to take family photos, but you had refused to change form.

Shapeshifting was something you had been cursed with since you were born. The ability to change from your human form into that of an animal, any animal you wished. Some people would call this a gift. You didn't see it as such. Every time you shapeshifted, the creature died, it's life force being added to yours. It granted you some form of immortality that you didn't want. You wanted to join your parents in the afterlife, but when your body forced you to turn it kept you alive.

You could feel Agatha's eyes boring into you as you answered Teen, "No, that's me."

"A shapeshifter?" Agatha licked her lips, taking a step closer, "Those are quite rare."

Rio eyed you from behind Agatha, her dagger curling in her hand as she poked her tongue against her cheek. Her brown eyes seemed as if they were trying to find out everything about you in a single look, trying to pry open your soul.

"It's not like I asked for it," you scoffed, feeling awkward with all the eyes on you, "Come on, let's figure out what this trial is about." You could tell that everyone else wanted to ask questions, to implore about your curse, but you didn't let them.

Meandering further into the house, you froze at the sight of a drink on the table. It was a faint pink, the liquid completely still inside the cup as a note sat perched next to it. Agatha picked it up delicately, her fingers curling around the paper and eyes scanning over it. She glanced up with a smirk and the cup in her hand.

"Looks like this is for you," she swished it around, handing it to you. You wrinkled your nose as a potent smell hit you. The rest of the coven was staring at it suspiciously and Lillia was oddly quiet as she stared off into space, Rio too. The woman stood at the back of the group, knife twirling between her fingers as she eyed you up and down. Reluctantly, you plugged your nose and downed the drink, jugging it all down.

Alice crinkled her nose, "If you get poisoned..."

"I am not making another antidote," Jen scoffed.

She rolled her eyes, and Teen hid a small smile behind his hand. Agatha's eyes remained trained on you as you gulped the entire thing down, gagging once you finished. For a moment nothing happened, just a strange tingling sensation that slowly spread through your body.

You knew it was happening the moment your heart stopped beating.

The bones in your body cracked, the sound popping through the room and you could hear Lillia let out a disgusted sound. Your limbs twisted and intertwined as you started shifting against your will. Over time, the process had gotten easier, but this time it was just as painful as the first. Biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, you squeezed your eyes shut and forced a scream down. It felt like everything in you was on fire.

Your body was shrinking. That was why it was a sharp pain, your bones breaking and reforming as smaller ones, your organs constricting until they were the right size. Once more, you exhaled before the pain stopped and you could feel the rapid beat of your heart again.

Everyone else was so much bigger as they stared down at you, awe and confusion written across their faces. You lifted what would be your hand into your view, only for it to be a paw. A black, fluffy paw. You were a cat. Great.

You tried to force yourself to turn back, but it wouldn't work. Even as you pawed at yourself and shut your eyes, you stayed as a stupid cat. A stupidly small one too.

Letting out a frustrated sound, which was really just a meow, a smirk crossed Agatha's face. She crouched down, her hand reaching out with a taunting coo. You were prepared for her to pick you up, but then your heart stopped again. The animal body you were in died.

Painfully, your human form came back, your body aching and sore. The witches were eyeing you oddly.

"That's weird," you muttered, and the back door opened on queue. It was confusing. Was that the trial? That couldn't be it. But there was a lingering voice in your head telling you secrets weren't meant to be kept. You weren't allowed to have secrets and the road forced yours out.

The coven exited and it wasn't long before a fire was set up, all of you huddling around it, most of them asleep. Rio was the only one awake, her brown eyes piercing from across the fire. You met her gaze, tilting your head. Memories of your parents replayed in your head every time you closed your eyes. Your mom's soft smile and dad's tender words. It made sleeping difficult.

"You died." She stated bluntly.

You blinked at her owlishly for a moment, "How do you know that?"

"Your heart stopped, you stopped breathing, you died," She squinted her eyes, a knife twirling in her hand, "You're not supposed to be here."

You had heard myths that Death took on a human form. You never believed them, but now you were starting to think they were true. There was no other way that Rio could have known that and there was always something odd about her. A certain air that drifted around that just reeked of death.

"You're death, aren't you?" You tilted your head in a dog-like gesture.

Rio shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips. She stood from her spot on the other side of the fire, rounding around to you. Crouching in front of you, Rio tilted your chin up with her knife, leaning close.

"Smart," she whispered, her breath right up in your face, "I should be able to collect you, yet I can't." Her fingers trailed up your legs, nearing your thighs before slowly tracing their way all the way up to your neck. "Why's that?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and you just barely managed to choke out, "I don't know."

Her knife was cold against the underside of your chin, and you flinched when she pushed the tip closer, a sharp, small, pain pricking there. You felt a droplet of blood form. Rio smiled at you, her lips curling upwards tauntingly.

"If I killed you now, would you come back to life?" She mused, pursuing her lips. You tried to flinch away, but Rio just chased you with the knife.

There was an annoyed throat cleared, "Leave her be Rio."

You didn't dare move, but you knew it was Agatha and you saw her move out of the corner of your eye, but you stayed focused on Rio. Death rolled her eyes, pushing the knife in just a bit deeper, before pulling back. She sat back on her shins with a pout. The younger witch studied you, her blue eyes icy and piercing. You blinked right back at her.

"You are certainly interesting," she mumbled, her eyes never leaving yours.

A sudden movement from Rio brought your eyes back to hers. She grasped your chin, tilting your head towards her, "When this is all over, would you let me study you?" Although it was phrased as a question, and the suddenness of it caught you off guard, you nodded hesitantly.

^_______________^

Your entire body ached as you sat in Agatha's backyard. You were splayed out, hands at your sides, as Agatha and Rio were somewhere. You honestly weren't sure. Their fight was intense, one that was brutal and you regretted being in the middle of it, and it ended with Billy being taken.

As much as you were sad about, you knew it was the natural cycle of life, but that didn't stop the guilt. According to Rio, you disobeyed the laws, but she couldn't collect your soul since you were still alive. You only died when shifting, and even then, it wasn't long enough for her to gather your soul. Squinting, you stared up at the figure obscuring the sun - Rio smirked down at you, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I've dealt with the child," she said flippantly, her hand extended down to you, "Now time to deal with you."

You had agreed to let her study you, although you weren't quite sure what that entailed, and she was holding you to that promise. Reaching up, you grasped her hand and the moment you did, the world swirled around you. Green mist was dispersed as you gathered your bearings, suddenly standing, and not in Agatha's backyard.

Large dark walls loomed over you, going well above your head, and Rio's hand was cold in yours. The air was musty and chilly as you shivered, drawing your arms close and studying the area. Rio leaned in close, her breath hot in contrast to the cool area, "Let's get started, shall we?"

^____________^

Turns out being Rio's "study" was an excuse for her to mess with you. She had been "studying" you for several years, and in all that time, not once had the two of you made an interesting discovery. Agatha liked to help out, often visiting Rio's abode with some sort of trinket for you and assisting in the "studies."

The three of you studied more than just your abilities.

You were sitting at a desk, scribbling on a piece of paper as you concentrated. None of it made sense. While you hadn't thought about it much before, and offhand comment from Rio the other day got you thinking. She said that she didn't collect animal souls. For a moment you thought that was why she couldn't collect yours, but Rio waved that away, claiming that she felt your soul die. The human one.

Was it something you should have thought of earlier? Yes. Did you? No.

There was a pair of hands placed over your eyes, "Guess who?" A voice chirped.

"Hi Rio," you greeted, gently prying her cold hands from your face, placing a tender kiss on each of them. Your girlfriend smiled as she dropped herself into your lap, arms wrapping around your neck and grinning up at you happily.

"What are you working on?" Her voice was low as she leaned close, pressing a kiss to your lips before you could respond. She tasted of fresh flowers and smelled of the earth. You wanted to melt into her touch, absorb the warmth she was giving you, but your mind was still spinning. Returning her kiss for only a moment, you pulled away gently and ignored her pout.

"Is it possible for a human soul to fuse with an animal soul?"

Your question caught her off guard, you could tell by the slight widening of her eyes, and she pursed her lips. Rio tilted her head, squinting her eyes, before shrugging.

"Never thought about that," she said flippantly, trailing her fingers up your chest. You sighed in exasperation, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Is Agatha going to be home soon?" Rio hummed against your lips, a very faint answer to your question, and this time you let her kiss you until you had to pull apart for air. Still, you were trying not to get distracted.

"Is it possible," you began, trailing off as you bit your lips, "That my soul fuses with the animal's? And that's why you feel me die, but can't collect it?"

When Rio realized, you weren't going to drop it, she took on a thoughtful expression. It took a moment before she slowly responded, "I believe so."

"You believe what?" Agatha's sudden voice startled you, and you wiped your head around. She stood in the doorway to your office with a small smile. Striding over to you, Agatha bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead before doing the same with Rio.

"Our darling girl has a new theory," Rio informed her. Your face flushed a delicate pink at the term of endearment.

"Not really," you shrugged awkwardly, still not used to their attention after all these years, but after Agatha's prompting look, you continued, "I think that my soul may be fusing with the animal's when I shift, and then like de-fusing when I return."

Agatha smiled pleased, "You're so smart," she praised, pressing another kiss, but this time to your lips, "We can explore that some more, alright?"

You nodded, happy with her response. Both of them looked at you with so much love, so much praise, so much care. You adored it. They didn't care that you had a weird ability. They were only curious and only loved you.

"I love you," you whispered, "Both of you."

[goobstars]

hey, could u write kenny mccormick dating headcanons ? fem reader . tyy

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘

⋆ precis ~ what it's like dating kenny mccormick!

⋆ tags ~ profanity, mentions of smoke, drugs, teen!au, playful threats, and kenny being kenny.

⋆ notes ~ i hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request!

⋆        to nobody's surprise, kenny would be the biggest flirt during your relationship.

⋆        at first, you didn't understand how someone could be so flirty. where did he learn how to swoon you with just his words? it's how you both got together, after all—him flirting with you every second of the day.

⋆        but then you went over to his house, and the posters and magazines he had answered your question.

⋆        he threw them away as soon as you saw them and replaced them with photos you took of him and you.

⋆        but back to the point, kenny would be really good with his words. he knows exactly what to say to make you flustered, but the downside is that he often says it during the worst time.

"you know, you're stunning when you're pissed..." kenny spoke as you shot a scowl at him. "kenneth, you almost got yourself fucking killed!"

"the only thing that can kill me is your looks, sweetheart."

"i'm going to find the car that almost hit you and make them come back for a second try."

⋆        he would be very crafty when it comes to gifts.

⋆        since he doesn't have a lot of money, he has to find ways to make dates and gifts as good as possible.

⋆        because according to him, you deserve everything you've ever wanted.

⋆        you want to go to a fancy restaurant? he'll set up something like the movie 'lady and the tramp', and though it wouldn't be a fancy place, he makes it feel like you're in the fanciest restaurant in the world.

⋆        when it comes to gifts, they're often flowers he picked or stole from places—a little letter being attached in his messy handwriting. he tries to make it readable, but you still have to squint when it comes to certain letters.

⋆        this dude smokes a lot, by the way.

⋆        whether it be nicotine or weed, don't ask him how he got them, he smokes it. why? because why not? his parents used to smoke it all the time, so why shouldn't he?

⋆        he would smoke in front of you if you were okay with it, or he would even share if you wanted, but he has no problem smoking some other time if you were against it.

⋆        would he quit? he might try, but it wouldn't last awhile. at least he tried though, right?

⋆        he would introduce you to karen, in which she would absolutely love you.

⋆        she would literally drag you away from kenny when you both were supposed to be hanging out, but he doesn't care. he loves seeing his two favourite people getting along and laughing.

⋆        but he will pout about it just so you'll give him some affection later on.

⋆        he's a good cuddler, honestly. he would just smell like smoke all the time. but if you don't care, then cuddling him is heaven because he's like a heater with that jacket.

⋆         if it's cold out, which it usually is, he'll unzip his jacket and let you lay on his chest, and then zip it back of while holding you in his arms.

⋆        he'd be a sloppy kisser, though. not in a bad way, but he just likes to lazily kiss you unless you're just giving him a peck on the lips.

⋆        also, if you're insecure, you best believe that kenny won't allowed that.

⋆        you could be talking about a part of you that you dislike, and he'd just stare at you with narrowed eyes before standing up and kissing that area all over.

⋆        he's whipped for you, and because of that, he has no issue doing whatever it takes to make you see how stunning you are.

⋆        someone made a comment? bro's throwing hands like there's no tomorrow. you just dislike that part of your body? he's yelling sweet nothings until you make him shut up.

⋆        he'd talk about you all the time with his friends.

⋆        even if you're not a part of the topic.

"kenny, do you wanna go look at some xbox games?"

"only if my pookie can come."

"KENNY, TELL CARTMAN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"cartman, shut the fuck up, i'm talking to my pookie."

⋆        yes, he'd call you his pookie. he's all about those stupid nicknames.

⋆        pookie, honey boo-boo, schnookims, my silly willy little cutie, you name it. he'll make up anything just to hear you sigh at the stupid things he says.

⋆        but the things he says doesn't even compare to what he does.

⋆        you like superheroes? he'll dress up as mysterion.

⋆        you have a favourite flower? he always finds a way to get it to you every morning.

⋆        he once got caught stealing a flower from his neighbours yard one day, and he ran for his life.

⋆        speaking of his life, he tells you everything.

⋆        and when you talk about yours, he'll listen. he's actually a good listener.

⋆        also, when he speaks in a muffled voice because of his parka? he'll unzip it a bit and whisper in your ear to tease you during school.

⋆        he will literally mumble about how much he loves you and when someone comes over, he'll just zip up his jacket and start talking in that muffled voice again like he wasn't just expressing his devoted love to you.

⋆        conversations with him can go from 1 to 100 real quick, by the way.

"kenny?" you question, and he looks up from the sidewalk as you both continued to walk hand-in-hand. he gave you a slight nod to continue what you were wanting to say.

"how much do you love me?" he raised his free hand to unzip his jacket a bit, and he gave you a slight smile. "to the moon and back."

you smiled at him as you squeezed his hand, and suddenly, he smirked. "speaking of back, does my ass look fat today? i caught you staring earlier."

"KENNNY, NOBODY IS LOOKING AT YOUR ASS!"

"now, that's a lie. it's so fat that it takes up everyone's vision."

"i will shove you into oncoming traffic," your threat only made him snicker.

"my ass will act like an airbag."

⋆        aside from that, life's just like a comedy show with kenny.

©𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

writings are to not be reposted, translated, or plagiarized. if you wish to show your love for my work, feel free to reblog, comment, or like.

[cheesesandwichsanto]

The Letter

Summary: You find a letter in Eddie‘s room

Warning: none

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: English is not my first language

If you enjoy the story; likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated 🖤

It was like every other Friday evening after Hellfire Club.

He called you the moment he was back home.

You drove over to Eddie’s trailer.

You both ordered some food, watched a movie together and smoked one on his porch, while talking about everything under the sun.

He crashed on the couch while you slept in his bed.

You both had been best friends since kindergarten.

He was just one year older than you.

You were inseparable ever since.

But when puberty started, everything changed for you.

You saw him in a different light.

You didn’t saw the boy with messy hair, leading some so-called cult, living in a trailer park that everyone saw.

You saw a handsome man with long flowing curls, passionate about his hobby and the person he truly was.

He didn’t put on an act for others.

He was seen as the town’s freak, but you just as a regular girl from creative writing club. (Which you, honestly, just joined because Eddie convinced you. So you could help him write his lyrics.)

He repeated senior year for the second time, you repeated it for the first time.

So you hoped you could graduate together and leave this shitty town behind.

The moment you fell in love with him?

It was when you were at Corroded Coffin’s band practice at Gareth’s garage, waiting for Eddie to finish and go to the new taco place in town.

You observed him playing his guitar, and seeing him pulling those strings with his silver rings on his fingers during his solo, with his tongue peeking out to focus, and his curls up in a messy bun, it did something to you that you couldn’t explain.

You couldn’t look at him the same anymore.

Normally, girls were into boys like Steve Harrington or Billy Hargrove - the pretty boy or the bad boy.

But not you; you liked the nerdy metalhead living in Forest Hills Trailer Park.

You knew that he had a thing for Chrissy Cunningham in middle school.

He told you, and it brought an aching pain to your chest.

It didn’t help when you saw them in the woods a few weeks ago during break, sitting on the bench, talking and laughing.

Friday evening

You picked up “Ghostbusters” from Family Video, while Eddie ordered some pizza.

After the movie, it was time for your weekly smoke session.

“Can you grab my lighter? It’s on the green box left shelf” He yelled from the living room, before he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and went outside to sit on the porch.

You misheard him, thought he said ‘in the box’.

You looked for the green box, (how are you supposed to find anything in this mess?) grabbed it and opened the lid.

Inside were some pictures of you and Eddie.

One where you both were barely 10 years old, his arm around your shoulder, in your grandma’s garden.

Him grinning from ear to ear.

Another one with Eddie and you dressed fancy.

You both were 13 and it was Snowball, where he didn’t want to go at first, but after you bickered for the 7465th time, he gave in.

And he ended up having more fun than you, but he would never admit that.

But there was also a folded piece of paper underneath the photos.

You were just nosy by nature, so it would be unfair to you not to open it.

You took a seat on the bed and folded it open.

It was Eddie’s handwriting.

You would recognize this scribble everywhere.

To my dear Y/N,

If you're reading this letter, I’m probably dead, or I maybe finally grew some balls to tell you how I feel. Hopefully, it’s not the first. If its the first one, please take care of my guitar.

You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life.

Do you remember that one time I picked you up from Robin’s? It was raining outside, and I felt like shit for letting you wait. But you didn’t even care. You were soaking wet, but when you got into my van you burst out in laughter, because you said I had a booger sticking on my cheek. (It was glaze from a donut. I still swear) - that was the moment where I wasn’t able to deny my feelings for you. I know, weird. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, so hopefully you feel the same. I don’t even know what I am writing here. So I come to the point:

Sweetheart, I’m in love with you

Your guitar god,

Edward Munson

You put the paper down and started at the wall, but got interrupted by a voice.

“You read it, didn’t you?” Eddie said, standing in the doorway, scratching his chin and sounding slightly awkward. You nodded slowly.

“Eddie… why have you never told me about how you feel?” You asked back confused, wrinkling your eyebrows.

“Why would a girl like you, be with a guy like me? Come on. You’re out of my league anyway.” He mumbled, looking at the floor of his room.

“Don’t say stuff like that… you are the most important person in my life.”

You got up to stand in front of him.

“And I … feel the same Ed’s” you whispered nervously.

“Seriously?” his brown eyes turned big.

“I do.”

It took everything in you, to do what you were doing next.

You reached for his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

He pulled away, stunned for a second, but then he kissed you again.

After a while, it was you who pulled away, your lips millimeters away from his.

“I really, really like your letter by the way, guitar god, I always knew there was some kind of poet inside you, even if it was not easy to read your scrawl” you said teasingly, taking a strand of his hair and twirling it around your finger.

“Oh shut up” he said laughing “I’m fucking embarrassed that I even wrote that cheesy thing, you should burn it”

“I’m happy you did. And I will frame it, and put it on my nightstand next to my bed.”

[the-trailblaze]

All the little things

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: Dante loves all the little things you do for him so he writes them down so he will always remember them. You then find his writings and read them. Pure flufffff, I really have a soft spot for soft Dante <33 I also had an idea of a part two and kinda mentioned the idea in this so lmk if you want it !!

Dante has never met a more attentive person than you. Even before you two started dating, he saw that no matter what you were doing you were always doing it with the utmost care and attention. You have a kind heart and it shows easily.

When you two started dating you got even more attentive or maybe he’s just realizing it. He always was a little slow to catch onto things, he didn’t even know you liked him for a long time before you two got together. He hates himself for making you wait so long but at least he has you now and that’s all the matter to him.

But Dante swears you’re out to make his heart explode, in a good way. He started writing down all the awesome things you do for him so he won’t forget anything. He keeps the little notebook hidden on the top shelf in his closest so you won’t be able to find it. Or well he hoped you didn’t find it.

You were cleaning his room because it really became so dirty and you don’t know how. He was on a mission for the past few weeks and you swear you’ve been cleaning so how did it get so bad? You started with trying to sort through the laundry, after you realized how that was going to be you decided to sort through his closest.

You start with what you can reach first. You throw out any clothes stained with demon blood, have too many holes, or just aren’t fit or anyone to wear anymore. You then make a pile for donations because there’s stuff that is literally covered in dust or still have tags on it. You know he won’t wear them because he wears the same three things.

Once you’re done with the stuff you can reach you grab a little stool and stand on it to clean the top shelf. You pull down a couple of clothes then see a random notebook lying up there. Maybe it’s something from his mom? You’re a little nosy and want to take a quick peek.

You grab the notebook and sit down on the stool. You open the first page to see neatly written handwriting saying “All the little things.” The handwriting looks like Dante’s but normally his is pretty messy because he doesn’t care and puts no effort into whatever he’s writing.

You flip the next page to see a well written paragraph with the date on it. You recognize the date because it was you two when on your first date together. You see he’s talking about you, so you sit back and read.

Today we went on our first date but man I was so nervous. We didn’t see each other for a while because of me being so busy demon hunting. But she never held it against me. She waited and I really appreciate it.

We met at the restaurant because she was coming from work and when I saw her, my heart couldn’t stop racing. I was so nervous. I wanted to make this perfect and not ruin anything. So my smart self thought that yapping the ENTIRE time would help.

It didn’t help my nerves at all because after I realized I was the only one talking and not letting her say anything or talk about herself I felt awful. I was so stressed that she’d think I was annoying and selfish. I brought that up and apologized and all she said was, “Why apologize? You’re a great story teller and I love hearing all I can about you. I want to know more about you Dante. So keep talking. Don’t ever feel bad for talking about something that excites you or something you find funny. Even if it’s sad, I’ll comfort you. Just know I’ll always listen.”

She said that with so much love and kindness. The rest of night when I’d talk her eyes would shine. Even the biggest diamond wouldn’t hold a candle to how much she was shining with each story I was telling. She made all the stress leave my body and was a safe space I didn’t even realize she created. I couldn’t help but falling for her even more then. This may have happened early into our relationship but it’ll be one of the moments that stick with me the most.

You feel your face heat up and your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how nervous he was, he never showed it. You thought you were the only nervous one. But now knowing you helped him so much without even having a little bit of an idea makes you happy.

You can’t help yourself so you turn to the next page to see what he wrote. You look at the date and it doesn’t jump out to you. So you wonder what it could be.

This beautiful girl only proves to blow my mind each and every day. She pays attention so much and it’s crazy. Well not in a bad way obviously but a way you didn’t think was possible.

So if we spend the night with each other it’s normally always at Devil May Cry because of my schedule. But I know she loves to host and cook a meal in her own place so I try to spend the nights I can at her place.

The first time I ever spent the night I kinda forgot to bring all my shower stuff. Man I was so mad and embarrassed. She noticed my annoyance with myself and asked what’s wrong. I explained it to her and all she did was grab my hand and drag me to the bathroom. In there she pulled out a basket under the sink filled with all the stuff I use. All I could do I stare at the basket.

She noticed my quietness and started quietly apologizing and explaining. “I’m sorry if this is weird. I just noticed all the products you used when I spend the night so I wrote them down. I know you are trying to spent more nights here so I wanted to make sure you were comfortable and if you ever forgot something you wouldn’t have to worry or stress. But again I’m really sorry if this is creepy or weird.”

I never even realized she took note of everything single thing I used. She put so much thought and effort into this. How could I ever think this is weird? It is so thoughtful and sweet. I did the only thing I could think of in the moment and kiss her.

We’ve kissed plenty of times but I tried to put so much gratitude behind it. I’ll never know if she felt that but I couldn’t help but thank her a million times. Her kind heart and beautiful mind always puts me first without a second hesitation. I hope I come off to her in the same way but I really do appreciate her more than anything. I am so happy she’s my girlfriend. We haven’t said it to each other yet but I really do love her.

Now you remember this. Again you didn’t know it meant so much to him. You’ve always known that he puts everyone before himself and tends to forget to take care of himself. All you wanted was to have a little safety net just in case he forgot. If he won’t look after himself, you always will.

But seeing he’s loved you since that moment and had those words on the tip of his tongue for a while makes you smile big. You’re on such a high reading these so you turn to the next page. This date again doesn’t stick out to you but you’re assuming most of these weren’t since this is about little things you’ve done.

Coming home was probably always my favorite part of the mission. I can get bored quite easily on missions especially if the demon is easy to kill. But ever since we got together, the best part is coming home to her. She basically has been living at Devil May Cry but I’ve been too much of a coward to ask her to move in.

For about four months into our relationship I didn’t have a long mission that kept me away longer than two or three days. But this time I was going to be gone for two weeks. She looked sad when I told her but she didn’t complain. She just said “I know you’re needed but please be safe and come back home.”

That gave me the biggest push to make sure I came back safe and in one piece. Normally with missions I didn’t care what happened because I always knew I could heal and I knew deep down no one was really worried about me. But now I had someone that did and I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing something bad happened to me and I wouldn’t be coming home.

The mission was long and tiring. I was dragging myself back home. It was about two in the morning and I wasn’t expecting her to be up and at Devil May Cry. She normally stays at her apartment when I’m on a mission because she said it’s lonely there without me.

Once I finally got back I kicked open the door then locked it. I was greeted by her in the kitchen. We both froze when we saw each other not expecting to see each other in this moment. Then all I knew was she was in my arms holding me tightly. I asked her why she was up so late and what she was doing here.

“Well I was feeling lonely in my apartment. This place is nice because it reminds me of you and seeing all of your stuff makes me happy. But I was up because I was expecting you to be home later today so I wanted to get all the things ready to make you a sweet treat for when you got back. I taught myself how to make ice cream so I could make your sundae so I just finished making it and was putting it away.”

I hugged her tighter and didn’t stumble on my words when I asked her to move in. I know we haven’t been together for long but I need her with me. I need her in my home. I can’t have my home away from me and my physical home. She belongs here with me. When she hugged me tighter and said yes, I felt like everything in the world was right.

You smile brightly at his comment about how you’re his home and everything feels right when you’re around. You agree but obviously you think this with him in mind. He is your everything and the world hasn’t felt the same since you two got together because he is your world.

You look real quick to see how filled this notebook is. You run through the pages and see this whole thing is almost full. He’s done this without you knowing at all!? That’s crazy, you wonder when he does it.

You turn the page again and recognize this date. It was the date you two first said I love you to each other.

I’m lazy and everyone knows this. So with my laziness I don’t shave sometimes. I like my look with and without the stubble I grow. But sometimes the stubble bugs me and I just want it off. Of course the every time I went to do it today, something new came up that needed my attention.

By the time I finally had free time it was about eleven at night and I was tired. I took a quick shower but by the time I was done I really didn’t want to shave. When I got out of the shower she was standing there getting everything ready for me to shave. I told her I was too tired to do it and I’ll just let it grow.

She turned around and just simply told me, “Yeah I saw you were busy and now tired. I watched videos this afternoon about how to shave a beard so I could do it for you.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the sink. I think I shocked her because I picked her up and placed her on the counter. I knew she’d have an easier time shaving if she could reach and see my face closer. She got everything ready then started preparing me.

She put shaving cream on me the grabbed my razor. She lightly took my face in her hands and slowly worked. She was nervous you could tell by the little shake in her hand but she really wanted to help so I didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. Especially when she learned how to do this for me.

When she was all done she put my aftershave and moisturizer on and smiled all happily while saying, “All done!”

I looked in the mirror and see she did great. I leaned my forehead against hers and thanked her before kissing her. After I pulled away I couldn’t help but tell her I love her. I know, I had her move in before I told her I love her. But I just had to tell her now. I couldn’t keep my love for her hidden anymore. She had to know.

I could tell she was shocked but then she smiled even brighter than earlier and easily told me that she loved me. It made my heart race. I couldn’t believe this perfect girl loved me and she was all mine. I really am the luckiest guy in the world.

At this you start crying. He has written so many beautiful things down to always remember them. Dante never hesitates to write something in here. He really is the best boyfriend you could ask for. He isn’t the luckiest, you’re the luckiest. This really makes you want to show him your memory book you’ve made with you two.

You failed to hear your name getting called but you hear Dante come into the closet.

“There you are! I thought you took a nap without me. Hey what do you got there?”

You freeze at the sudden voice and slam the notebook. You turn to face him and he sees the tears running down your face. Dante quickly rushes over freaking out, “What happened!? Why are you crying?”

He looks you up and down then sees it. The notebook. His eyes widen then snap to meet yours.

“Uh, so um- you found it?” Dante stumbles out.

You just nod and wrap your arms around his neck holding him close. He doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace but you can tell he’s nervous. Does he think you won’t like it?

“Dante I know this was suppose to be a secret but it made me so happy while reading it. Knowing you hold moments like these so dear to your heart is such an incredible feeling. I’m so lucky I can call you my boyfriend. I love you so much.”

Dante grips you tighter and kisses your temple. “Every second I get to spend with you is a second I don’t want to forget. You mean the world to me and I’m happy this showed that to you. Sorry I never told you about it, I just really wanted to write these down. But I’m the lucky one, I get an incredible woman like you to call my girlfriend. I love you more than you know baby.”

You pull back from the hug and place the notebook on the floor. You place your hands on his cheeks and pull Dante into a kiss. You’re pulling a card from his notebook and try to put all your emotions into the kiss. Sometimes words are hard and actions can convey what you’re thinking way better than words ever could.

Dante seems to be doing the same thing. The kiss is soft with so much love behind it. It fills you with such warmth and comfort. It’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

You two separate and just look at each other. “Dante?” You call out to him. He hums to have you ask your question.

“Can you keep writing about these moments?”

He just smile, “Of course. I love all our little moments and will always keep them in my heart.”

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Birthday Boy

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Nothing but fluff!

Length: 707

Summary: You and Alpine decide to make Bucky’s birthday extra special!

A/N: It’s Bucky’s birthday and I got really sick last year so I didn’t get the chance to post for his birthday. I wrote this a few days ago so hope you enjoy!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You silently close the door behind you, hoping not to wake him up. It was already a challenge to get out of bed without him realizing, he’s a super human with enhanced hearing. But somehow, you were able to silently get out of the bedroom with Alpine in your arms.

Bucky’s birthday isn’t something he typically enjoys. It used to be, but Hydra tainted it. What was once a day celebrated with friends and family had been full of torture. It also reminds him of all of the years he had lost.

But you’re determined to make it different. You let Alpine jump out of your arms as you walk into the kitchen and turn on the light. One thing Bucky loves is pancakes, and you are determined to make them just right.

You rummage through the kitchen drawer, trying to find the note card with Bucky’s handwriting. He found his mother’s pancake recipe and wrote it down a hundred times to make sure the recipe would never be lost again.

“Aha!” You whisper in excitement as you find it.

Alpine jumps on the counter, her tail flicking back and forth. You kiss the top of her head and put the note card beside her, gathering the necessary ingredients. You’ve seen Bucky make this recipe at least 30 times since he’s found it, you could practically make it without the card. But you don’t want to ruin one of his favorite things for him.

You make the pancakes with ease, the only struggle is keeping the kitchen from being messy. But that’s a problem for future you, you’ve already been gone for 20 minutes. Bucky will wake up soon if you’re not back in the room.

Alpine watches you as you frantically move around the tiny kitchen. You move from the stove to the fridge to prep some plums for him to eat with the pancakes. You flip the pancakes before moving over to switch on the coffee pot. You place another hot pancake on the growing stack and add a small knob of butter, just the way Bucky likes.

Finally, you finish. You get the small bed tray, only wanting to make one trip. The pancakes are stacked tall on a plate, a small bowl of cut plums, Bucky’s favorite mug is full of black coffee, and some syrup just in case he’s feeling a little sweet this morning.

You pick up the tray and start to leave the kitchen when Alpine steps in front of you and meows. You realize that you forgot the most important thing.

“Thanks, Alp.” You place the tray down and rummage through the same drawer you found the recipe in.

You pull out a single candle and stick it through the top pancake. Now everything is in place. You make your way to the bedroom, carefully balancing the tray in your hands. You crack the bedroom door open before nudging it all the way with your foot.

Bucky lies on the bed, still fast asleep. He’s laying on his stomach facing the door. His hair is short compared to other times, but it’s long enough to be covering a good part of his forehead. He looks devastatingly handsome as always.

Alpine hops onto the bed, her face nudging Bucky’s. Bucky stirs for a minute before cracking open an eye.

“Alpine…” Bucky holds her to his chest and kisses her head.

You walk further into the room and sit on the bed. “Happy birthday, Bucky.”

He looks up at you and smiles. “Doll, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to. Now sit up and take the tray so I can light this candle and me and Alpine can sing you happy birthday.”

Bucky listens to you but not before giving you a short peck on the lips. You light the candle and grab Alpine, singing him a terrible rendition of  “Happy Birthday”.

Bucky blows out his candle and you smile at him. “What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you, or else it won’t come true.” He smirks at you.

Little did you know, he didn’t have to wish for anything. Everything he ever wanted was with him. His own little family. Someone who loves him. You.

[luffington]

hello!! 🩷 may i request a doflamingo and corazon x fem!reader (nsfw)? these brothers are very much different from one another so i feel like corazon would always scold doffy for being mean to y/n lol. but somehow corazon himself also has a nasty streak in him when he's fucking her and doffy knows it

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader x donquixote rosinante (corazon)

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ warnings: threesome, oral (m receiving), choking, bondage, degradation, creampie, corazon is mute, she/her for reader

nothing physical happens between doffy and cora but doffy is still a freak so read at your own risk!

ugHHHH the concept ever!!!! i think about this so much more than i should.... there's no way cora's a 100% pure virtuous angel boy he's gotta have some very repressed darkness in him

i briefly threw this in but i LOVE the idea of doffy being weirdly possessive of the name rosinante and who gets to call him that. their dynamic is sooooo interesting but we'll never see more of it thanks oda >:(

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

The Donquixote brothers didn’t want to look like each other. But stripped bare and shadowed in dim bedroom light, the similarities were uncanny.

Soft blonde hair ruffled by your fingers and slicked back from sweat. Long and lanky limbs, big hands that felt calloused when they ran across your naked skin. Perfectly sculpted bodies littered with decades worth of scars. You had only seen the older brother without sunglasses one time, and their strikingly beautiful eyes side by side made your breath catch in your throat. 

This bizarre situation began many months ago, not long after you joined the Donquixote Family. At first, you could easily figure out which brother was touching you – the soft kisses of a gentle giant or the fangs of a hungry beast. Doflamingo had actually blindfolded you once for that exact purpose with the promise of rewarding you if you got every answer correct. And you did. But you hated not being able to see Corazon, and hated how much Doflamingo enjoyed taking away his brother’s only form of communication.

Now, it was harder to tell them apart.

Strings wrapped around your waist, your thighs, your tits. Kept your hands tightly bound behind your back. Doflamingo had you speared on his cock and bounced you up and down with marionette motions like an actual puppet. His massive length stretched your insides delightfully and kissed the tip of your cervix with every thrust. He intentionally positioned your back to his chest so you could look at his brother, sitting cross-legged in front of you near the edge of the bed. Corazon’s gaze lingered on your debauched expression and the way your soft flesh bulged around Doflamingo’s too-tight strings. Jaw hanging slack as he stroked off his own dick, long and veiny and already beginning to leak precum. 

The younger’s face paint was almost completely smeared off – streaks of maroon coated your mouth like badly applied lipstick and littered your inner thighs. Practically indistinguishable from the red lines inflicted by Doflamingo’s strings. 

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Doflamingo purred. His brother nodded immediately as if in a trance. “What a pretty little toy.”

Corazon didn’t like that term. He would never treat you like an object the way his brother did – he cherished you as he believed any partner should be. But he couldn’t deny how the thought of using you for his own pleasure made his cock twitch, especially since you enjoyed it. You were so pliant and willing for him, for both of them. 

Satisfied by the younger’s response, Doflamingo wrapped a large hand around your throat, his long fingers digging into the delicate skin. You coughed and sputtered as your airway was slowly cut off. Corazon immediately stopped jerking off to grab the pen and notepad next to him, quickly scribbling ‘Too rough!!!’ in his messy handwriting and angrily holding it in front of his brother. 

The older man chuckled, but released your neck and stroked over his fingerprint marks in mock kindness. 

You leaned forward to kiss Corazon, who clumsily knocked his nose against yours in his haste to reciprocate. It was truly baffling how one brother could make your heart melt with fondness while the other rearranged your guts. Corazon kissed you languidly, content to take his time and savor the feeling of your tongues swirling together.

“You taste like cigarettes,” you giggled. He always did, but the taste was especially fresh and potent, making your head spin pleasantly. 

Corazon frowned and signed ‘I’m sorry’. 

“Don’t apologize, I like it. It tastes like you.” He grinned in response. Corazon was actually just beginning to learn sign language, since he hadn’t needed it before his current mission, and you took the time to learn to communicate with him. It made his heart swell with love.

Doflamingo frowned at the tender moment and abruptly pushed your head into his brother’s lap. “Well, don’t just fucking stare at him. Be a good slut and suck Rosi off.”

Rosinante. What a beautiful name. You wished you were always allowed to use it, not just when you were alone with him. Doflamingo would break your legs if he heard you utter the sacred name which only true Donquixotes were permitted to say.

Corazon gave his brother another dirty glare, but covered his mouth and fought to hold back a moan when you kitten-licked the base of his cock, suckling on his balls delicately. He wished his soundproofing abilities came with a control panel – it was nearly impossible for him to stay silent with your perfect mouth on him, but he needed to hear your sweet moans as you lapped at his dick. 

Your head jerked back suddenly in time with a twitch of Doflamingo’s fingers. “Pathetic whore can’t follow directions? I said suck.” He forced your head down again without giving you time to open your mouth. Your string-controlled movements made you awkwardly rub your cheek against the head of Corazon’s cock, smearing precum on your skin. 

The younger immediately started scribbling another angry note. But then you ran your tongue along the part of his length you could reach and he dropped his notepad, too consumed by pleasure to finish his thought. 

You finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, causing Corazon to let out a shaky sigh. “Better, right?” Doflamingo smiled sadistically, pushing your head further down his brother’s dick. The older blonde fucked you deep and slow, making you feel every vein and ridge of his cock as you rose just to harshly slam you down to the base. 

One of Corazon’s hands rested on the back of your head as you bobbed up and down. He watched with hooded eyes as you slurped along his cock, little bits of drool running past your lips and dripping down to his balls. You were so close to fitting his entire length in your throat – a truly impressive feat – and you pushed yourself a bit farther than you could handle. When your throat constricted in protest, Corazon couldn’t help but hold you down and throw his head back with parted lips. Your gag reflex immediately kicked in and you choked around his cock, lungs desperately seeking air but his hand stayed locked in place. You looked up at him pleadingly and found a sense of twisted wonder in his eyes. His lips quirked into a fascinated smile as he wiped away a drop of moisture spilling from your eye. 

When your moans became louder and more insistent, Corazon let you go. You pulled off of his dick, sputtering and gasping for air, chin coated in your own saliva. It took him a moment to snap back to reality and realize that the wetness he felt was a teardrop. 

‘Are you okay?’ He signed in a panic, followed by frantic gestures of, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–’

“Don’t worry. I’m okay.” You reassured him with a smile as he apologetically wiped away any remaining traces of tears. “You liked it, right? Making me gag?”

Corazon looked away, feeling incredibly guilty and irredeemably dirty.

Doflamingo cackled, stilling his movements with his cock buried deep inside you. “Did you just apologize for getting good head? Oh, poor little Rosi.”

The younger flipped to a blank page and wrote ‘Choking isn’t good’. Almost as a reminder to himself.

“It is under the right circumstances,” his brother replied coolly.

You rolled your eyes – their extremely different concepts of morality sometimes gave you a headache. Turning back to glare at the older blonde, you retorted, “You’re talking about consent. Consensual choking is fine.” 

“Oh, right. Forgot the word.” Doflamingo teased. His puppet strings pulled you upright, away from Corazon’s pretty pink dick which was clearly close to cumming. He would never turn his precious little brother into a plaything with his abilities – he wasn’t a complete degenerate. So Doflamingo kindly opted to grab a handful of Corazon’s hair and yank his head against your chest. “Play with her tits. You can fuck her when I’m done.”

Your breasts bounced as Doflamingo sped up his movements, squished together and emphasized by the nearly invisible strings wrapped around them. Corazon licked his lips hungrily before wrapping them around a nipple and loudly sucking. You whined as his tongue swirled around the bud, rolling your other nipple gently between his fingers. Doflamingo wrapped his hand around your neck again, but this time, he didn’t apply any pressure. He left it there as a constant presence – a reminder for you and an example for his brother.

“So fucking close,” he grunted, bouncing you faster and harder. “Gonna cum inside. Rosi, you okay with sloppy seconds?” Corazon knew it was a rhetorical question, but he would never tear himself away from your breasts to answer, anyways. The older shoved his hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit until both of you reached your peak, crying out in utter bliss. 

Doflamingo held you flush against his hips as he came, hot sticky spurts of semen flooding your insides as he whispered his fucked up version of sweet nothings in your ear – “such a perfect dirty whore, taking every drop of my cum like the cocksleeve you are”. Corazon eagerly watched your face contort with pleasure as he continued to suckle on your nipple. His own cock ached, but he didn’t risk touching it. Cumming inside you, seeing you make that blissful expression for him, outweighed his urgent desire. 

Your body automatically lifted off of Doflamingo’s cock, globs of cum dripping out of your cunt and onto the bedsheets below. You had barely settled on the bed when he withdrew his strings, leaving you to practically collapse with sore limbs and no support. Doflamingo shifted towards the headboard and stole a cigarette from his brother’s pack. He lit the end, inhaled deeply, and got comfortable to watch the show. 

Corazon pressed his lips against yours gently, slowly guiding you to lie flat on your back. He made a thumbs up and raised his eyebrows in question. “Yes, I’m ready,” you smiled at your sweet boy. 

His cock entered you slowly, tenderly, accompanied by the lewd shlick of the cum already inside you. Neither of you dared to acknowledge whose cum it was. When you looked up, you saw feathery blonde bangs, fading face paint, soft and loving eyes, and a perfect replica of Doflamingo’s smile.

[goodoldmila]

I have a strong desire for a new Dragon Age cookbook, but it's just a collection of the recipes from the Veilguard and their allies across Thedas.

Most of it is in Lucanis' neat handwriting or in messy, scattered one from Bellara as they note down recipes from their friends and allies;

It's their project together, they pass the empty notebook back and forth as they try to learn requested dishes, but they also just leave the given pieces of parchment written by others.

All the recipes have a little story or background, and maybe like bad illustrations of what it's meant to look like.

Neve had Hal scribble down his secrets to fried fish, but there is a note by her that it never tastes like when he does it anyway - close second though.

Taash adds a qunari recipe from Shathann but also one they enjoy from Rivain. Maybe goes on a bit too long about what foods make one attractive or repulsive to a dragon.

Harding has a page full of absolutely chaotic snacks (ham and jam slam, smashed and fried potatoes with raisins and gooseberries, carrots with whipped cream, while not that wild I do believe she'd love ants on a log) but she'd also give some good cheese pairings.

She would give them a few nice hearty recipes from her ma, who gushes about what an amazing girl Harding is for so long before she gets to the recipe (food blog vibes). I think they would be like a few different types of pie (sweet and savoury) a full roast and maybe some mix of Fareldan and Dwarven.

Lucanis will asd more than a few antivan recipes. His notes get progressively more precise on what NOT to do (Mierda, please! Do NOT break the pasta! NEVER pour out all the pasta water!!!)

All four desserts from Lucanis would be there. Gooseberry pie written by Bellara since she took the recipe from Neve and Nevarran Chocolate Torte in Emmrich's handwriting.

There are precise and detailed instructions on how to make coffee that Lucanis left out for Neve. A note clearly added later is one in capitals on top - 'Please just ask me to make it when you want some.'

Davrin gives a Dalish recipe but also a Warden 'Everything stew'. Says it's bland at best, but still provides comfort and tastes like home. His tea for Rook makes it too, maybe a recipe for a treat for Assan with notes back and forth between him and Taash.

Antoinne sent a recipe for Orlesian Onion soup. Evka adds a dwarven roasted cave roots recipe.

Teia sends a recipe for Arepas and Viago provides notes on how to hide poison or recognise it. He forgot to actually get to the recipe for the soup the servants at house De Riva make frequently.

Tarquin sends a letter for a spiced tea and writes about how it gets him through his annoying job.

Vargoth sends a recipe for dried candied orange peels. He doesn't eat but likes the smell.

Myrna sends a tea served to calm the dead - whatever that means (nobody tried that one).

Johanna shouted instructions on how to make mulled wine at Bellara and required someone to bring it to Emmrich's office. The recipe has many crossed out notes and added notes as Johanna kept insisting it's not right.

There is a few blank pages to fill in your Rook's recipe.

Varric's favourite Cinnamon buns still make it in.

There could be additions big or small from Viper, Elek, Strife, Irelin, Illario???, Jacobus, Heir, all of the faction merchants, Inquisitor and others from Inquisition through Harding... any further ideas are welcome and desired!

I just think it would be delightful.

[bitter-me]

Hey ! I have seen you write for Twisted Wonderland ?👀

Can I ask for Ignihyde or Diasomnia students with a boy [friend or not, you choose] who is like Sherlock (from BBC if you have watch) ? I just know he will try to understand how overblot work and why there is a lot of overblot-

Ignore it if you don't want to write it ! And have a good day ! Or night ? Idk when you will see it (if you see it)-

The Game is On!

Ignihyde Students | M. Reader as Sherlock Holmes [BBC]

----------

"I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!"

----------

The day [Name] Holmes has entered Night Raven College was the day Azul had become even richer.

Ever wonder if your crush likes you back? Or maybe you wanted to know yourself better? Or perhaps you wanted to know if your partner's cheating on you? Well look no further than the Mostro Lounge!

Being stranded in a different universe, [Name] merely sees it as an opportunity to gain more information and funding. This whole new world is so much more interesting than his previously awfully predictable world.

Which then led to Ignihyde's Housewarden's first encounter with the high-functioning sociopath. At first Idia found it skeptical that someone could have the ability to see right through everything and anything. Until [Name] had read him like an open book in their first meeting.

To say that Idia was traumatized by the sudden exposure is an understatement. But after calming down, he can't help but think on how similarly [Name] acts with one of the characters in the anime he watched. Cough Moriarty the Patriot cough. But nonetheless, the two of them soon bonded and became close with one another.

Before long, [Name] was introduced to Ortho and his interest was immediately peeked by Idia's "younger brother."

Although school life is as boring as his world's. It's just the same thing but with magic and stuff... but all of a sudden these things called "Overblot" showed up? Oh he got to know what this is about right away!

----------

Idia Shroud

"Um.."

"Shh."

He instantly shut up the moment he was hushed by the other. Just when he decided to leave his room and visit the Ramshackle for a change. Idia was greeted by a sight he never thought he would ever see in his life! [Name] pacing around his room with two hands together placed underneath his chin and the elephant in the room.. His room was filled with papers and stings attracted on the walls!

Idia thought that his room is messy but this is just on another level!

Newspapers, printed out articles, [Name] own illedgiment handwriting, etc. Every single wall is covered in it with some strings connecting some parts.

This thing. This "Overblot."

Why did it happen? Is it because of intense emotions? Negative or positive? Does it really matter? And why do they show up in a blob, ink-like thing? The stain on the gems of their pens? Is this common? Or are they something one has to go through once in their lives? Like puberty? So many questions. So little time.

Idia could only sit and watch as [Name] drove himself insane. He knew that S.T.Y.X. is also trying to figure this whole Overblot out too. But seeing how unhinged [Name]'s acting while also trying to figure out the same thing his family is doing is just concerning. It drove Idia to the edge just how... [Name]'s acting..

There's a thin line between inquiry and insanity. And [Name] is using that line like a freaking jump rope!

----------

Ortho Shroud

[Platonic]

The day the high-functioning sociopath saw Ortho. His interest is peeked. A robot? That acts like a human? Even back in his world this would've taken years maybe even centuries to accomplish with how incompetent the human kind is! Therefore, [Name] would ask Ortho multiple questions within the span of a minute. I live for Sherlock's rapid fire deductions and questioning.

And how [Name] loved it when Ortho answered each and every question without him needing to repeat himself nor explain it. Ortho's happy to help whenever he can! He was so happy that his brother made a friend!

Whenever he saw [Name] pacing around like a mad man. Ortho tries to help by either reducing [Name]'s burden and helping him to make deductions and hypotheses or by simply bringing snacks and reminding him to rest.

While Idia looks at [Name] with a nervous and unsure expression. Ortho steps in by suggesting that maybe he should rest. "[Name] maybe you should take a nap! If you do, your productivity will go up by 10℅ or maybe even more! And since you're energized, you could be more focused and—"

"I'll rest once I've figured this out."

Oh boy. This is going to be a long day for the three of them huh..

[lolasangelz]

georgia's birthday

w/c: 427

a/n: ive wrote 5 fics today to be scheduled... also im done my girl math gigi is like 28 in this (and has 4 kids 😬)

rafe is mullet daddy in this

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

georgia woke up to silence. which, in a house with four kids, was suspicious.

she blinked, stretched, then turned toward rafe’s side of the bed.

empty.

a note sat on the pillow in his handwriting - barely legible, all loops and smudges.

“don’t come downstairs yet. wear something soft. love you.”

she smiled. okay. so maybe today wouldn’t be like every other day.

she pulled on one of his old t-shirts - the one she always slept in - and wandered to the bathroom. there were fresh flowers on the counter.

and then- a knock.

emerson’s voice came through the door, whisper-screaming.

“mama, can we come in now? it’s time.”

she opened the door and was instantly surrounded. tiny hands, loud voices, a blur of bunny slippers and wild bed hair.

“we made you breakfast!” maddie grinned. “daddy made the pancakes but i did the whipped cream.”

“i put the sprinkles,” grayson added.

“mama me help!,” maggie said proudly, chocolate already on her chin.

rafe stood in the hallway behind them. soft-eyed, messy-haired. holding a tray.

“it’s not gourmet,” he said, handing it over.

on the tray: pancakes stacked a little too high, strawberries cut into crooked hearts, black coffee, a single candle already half-melted.

“they wanted to sing,” he added.

so they did. loudly. out of sync. maggie tried to eat the candle wax.

gigi sat on the edge of the bed and laughed until she cried.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

the rest of the day was simple. breakfast turned into cartoons, then into a lazy late-morning walk. the kids raced ahead. rafe and gigi walked behind, fingers brushing, talking about nothing.

he kept looking at her like she was something rare. something he was still learning how to hold.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

later that night, after bath time and bedtime books and three separate rounds of “i need water,” the house was finally quiet.

gigi stood by the window, brushing her hair out. the breeze was warm, and her eyes felt heavy in the best way.

rafe came up behind her, slid his arms around her waist.

“happy birthday,” he whispered into her neck.

“you already said that.”

“i know. say it again anyway.”

she turned in his arms and looked up at him.

“this was the best one,” she said honestly. “even though it was… small.”

“small’s good,” he murmured. “i like the quiet ones. just us.”

"just wait a few years for your 30th"

"it's like 2 years away"

she leaned in, kissed him. slow. sleepy. warm.

“you’re getting soft,” she teased.

“i’ve always been soft for you.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ