#do you think... he said that to the twins... because he knows... how difficult it is... to live despite it all..................

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

There are two notable moments that signify the beginning of Jason finally ‘warming up’ to you.

The first is when he talks to you — vigilante you. It’s somehow easier. When he can’t see your face, he can’t imagine it stained by the blood on his hands or the dirt on his clothes.

In all honesty, it was an accident. You were tailing a guy — some kind of robber, a mugger, maybe? it was a pretty quiet night (by Gotham standards) — and got just a bit too close to Crime Alley. Luckily, you managed to take the guy down just in time to avoid entering the area. Coincidentally, Jason, or rather, Red Hood, had been nearby with his own mission.

He had just wrapped up his task when he noticed you taking knocking the guy out and taking some kind of bag from him. He stood there, admittedly awkwardly, and watched you send a message to the Bat. There was a weird tightness in his chest, familiar but not as strong as it usually was. Possibly because it’s easy to separate you, his sister, from you, his (coworker?) fellow vigilante.

He wanted to say something to you. What, he wasn’t sure. A simple greeting if anything, but the words on his tongue felt like cotton. It wasn’t until you were wrangling the guy up, probably to take him to the GCPD, when he finally throws caution to the wind.

“…” His mouth opens and closes like a fish maybe three times before he can finally speak, “Good job!” ‘Good job, are you kidding?’ His face gets warm and he can feel his shoulders tense when your head snaps up to meet his gaze.

Your face is covered by a helmet (a motorcycle one? where’d you even get that?) but Jason can just feel the bewildered stare. He can’t blame you for the reaction. You’ve been living with the family for multiple years now and he’s pretty sure he’s only said small pleasantries to you, if that.

You look down to the guy and then back at Jason across the street. As if you didn’t know what he was complimenting you on.

It’s a moment of silence before you call out to him in response. “Thank you!” That helmet has some kind of built-in voice synthesizer (if you were any closer he’d tease you for ‘jacking his style,’ but you aren’t. so he doesn’t). It’s nothing crazy, just enough to distort your voice to be vaguely unrecognizable to others. Jason is pretty sure Tim had installed it as some kind of surprise, but he’s not sure. Still, even with the slight filtering, he thinks your voice is quite sweet.

Jason nods, a silent ‘you’re welcome’ —because what else can he say? You grab the guy and set to leave, turn him in. Jason can’t force himself to think over the interaction, he has a job to do damn it!

Later, when he’s alone and crawling into bed, he curses himself for the interaction. ‘Good job,’ he scoffs to himself, ‘never said more than 3 words to her and I said ‘good job.’

Then, there’s the second moment of Jason’s warming up to you.

It had been when you — Bruce Wayne’s daughter — had accompanied your father to one of those excessive ‘galas,’ or whatever they’re called. Jason can’t remember if he had ever gone to one even back when he was Robin. Nevertheless, they were way too uppity for him. Really, what’s so fun about rubbing elbows with a shit ton of socialites?

Maybe you shared his viewpoint, because at this particular gala, you were nowhere to be seen. At least, nowhere near Bruce. No, you were outside on a balcony. You looked nice, really nice. If Jason didn’t know you (though, how well did he even know you really?), he’d assume you were just another rich brat sulking cause Daddy didn’t buy you the car you wanted. But, even though he didn’t know you well, he still did know you. So, when he saw you on that balcony, leaning against the balustrade, he decided to speak with you. Check in on you, like a brother would do!

It wasn’t too difficult to approach you. Jason was Red Hood, again, so it was almost comforting that you wouldn’t see his face, even though he could see yours. He’ll work up the courage to talk to you as ‘Jason,’ he assures himself, but right now it’s much easier if you don’t have to face his scarred visage.

It’s when he drops down in the space behind you that he realizes this might be a bad idea. He doesn’t know you well enough to just understand what’s wrong by a glance, and who’s to say you’ll even tell him? He stands behind you awkwardly, almost ready to just abandon the idea and disappear before you recognize that he’s behind you.

He doesn’t get the chance, though.

“Need something?” Your voice rings out into the night. It’s almost embarrassing the way his chest stings ever so slightly at your sullen mood. You’re normally so… chipper. It’s a total 180 from usual.

“Just checking in.” Jason replies, his hands nervously clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You okay?” He asks, not wanting to assume in case he upsets you further.

You let out a sigh, letting your head fall to look at the city below you. “I hate these things.” The words come out as almost a grumble, your arms cross on the surface in front of you. “The people in there are… weird. Treat me like I‘m still a babe.”

“Why do you come then? I doubt B would force you.” He feels like he’s overstepped already. Maybe he should’ve just said a few words of comfort. Better yet, he should’ve just stayed away, damn it Jason, you idiot—

“I don’t know,” You shrug, and Jason internally breathes a sigh of relief that you don’t seem to be mad at him. “I just feel like I should, like I have to prove myself in some way. Damian and I are Father’s biological kids. The rest of you have been around longer, but to these people,” You give a slight roll of your eyes, “it means something. Especially since I’m the older one.”

“What, they think you’re gonna take over the business?” Jason finally wills himself to move. He copies your stance, crossing his arms on the railing and leaning forward on them. It’s likely the closest he’s ever gotten to you, he’s suddenly aware of what you look like up close.

You let out a huff of air and bend down, resting your chin on your arms. “Maybe, maybe not. I think it’s just to brag about knowing ‘Bruce Wayne’s daughter.’ They’re all… dickheads.”

That gets a chuckle out of Jason. “Careful. Don’t want them to hear that Bruce Wayne’s golden child has a potty mouth.” He lightly nudges your arm with his elbow. For once, he doesn’t find himself over thinking the gesture and cringing at it.

“Please, don’t give them another name to call me by.” You actually smile at him. First time he’s seen you do anything besides pout tonight. And it’s because of him. He tries to ignore the swelling of pride in his chest.

“Sorry, princess.” He teases (you’re not close enough for teasing) with a smile of his own. Of course, it’s one that you can’t see, given he’s still got his ‘Red Hood’ helmet on. But, he hopes you can at least tell he’s smiling.

You groan, somewhat exaggeratedly, and press your face into your folded arms. “Don’t even.” You practically whine, voice a bit muffled by your skin. “Conner calls me that enough.”

Jason lets out a huff of laughter. “Sorry, sorry. Won’t happen again.” He straightens up enough to lift his hands in surrender. It’s when he does that does he realize how cold it is. It’s not so bad for him, given he’s covered head to toe, literally. But for you, you must be freezing.

“You should go back inside.” He tells you, like a proper big brother should, with a hint of concern in his voice. “It’s cold out here, you’ll get sick.”

You sigh again and lift your head from your arms before straightening up. “I know, I will.” You sound like you’re resigning yourself to your doom. Though, given your past (and present) he finds himself kind of glad that this is what you consider bad. Then, you smile again and look up at Jason this time. “Thank you. For talking to me, I mean.”

He nods, and suddenly that awkwardness is back. Now that he’s facing you head-on, his chest gets a bit tighter all of a sudden. “You’re welcome, kid.”

It’d be a ‘big brother’ thing to do, to reach out. Place a hand on your shoulder, ruffle your hair, even pull you in for a hug. Jason doesn’t do any of those.

Instead, he pats your bicep twice and gives it a reassuring(?) squeeze. You nod at him, a hint of affection in your gaze as you punch his shoulder playfully. “See ya.” You smile again before heading back inside to mingle with the aristocrats once more.

Despite the interaction being a bit awkward — once you’re closer, you’ll relax around each other, Jason tells himself — it leaves him with a light feeling in his chest.

Once again, when Jason is settling in for the night, he thinks of you. This time, however, he doesn’t beat himself up for being so damn awkward. Instead, he thinks that maybe he’ll swing by the Estate one day. Maybe attend one of those ‘family dinners’ Dick is always trying to rope him into coming to.

Yeah, he reckons, that’d be nice.

okay first of all this was my first ever request 😛😛 so to the anon that sent it in i really hope i did this justice 🙏🙏

second of all we hit 100 followers???? are you serious??? guys thank you all so much for reading these little stories and liking them enough to follow 😭😭 i started writing simply for my own enjoyment and the fact that so many of you like this as much as i do is actually nuts to me ❤️

i lowkey based reader and jason’s dynamic off me and my oldest sister’s tbh 😔🙏 cause im an awkward person in general and she’s way older so we’re super different. but i hope you guys like the way they interact.

anyways! if you want to send in more requests please do 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but also i randomly get super creative for a few days and then i don’t write anything for 2 weeks so! if you send something in and i don’t answer/write it, don’t worry, i will 🥲

but thanks so much for reading, i really appreciate the support. you guys are literally so sweet and it’s incredibly fulfilling that people enjoy my amateur writing 😅

bye byeee ❤️❤️

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[wonderjanga]

au where billy and mary were friends w a teen patrick wayne before everything went down in the 40's and they both think that bruce is patrick and that hes shy cuz hes a hero now

I think Billy, Mary, and Patrick’s dynamic would’ve basically been two little kids and the older kid who hang out. Patrick would also have no problem treating them like his little siblings and would casually give them money in exchange for them helping him with experiments. He’d rather just give them the money but they won’t just accept it for free so he’d resigned to making them do little tasks instead.

Patrick: “Alright, I need three fairy wings, dried unicorn blood, sixteen siren scales, and dryad bark! Go! Go! Go!”

Mary and Billy: *salute before running off*

You might be wondering what he needs any of that for. You’ll know later.

Anyways, as for how Patrick found out about Billy and Mary being Captain Marvel and Mary Marvel…

Patrick: *talking to someone in Fawcett and trying to get siren scales because his usual suppliers (Billy and Mary) said they were busy with something at the moment (meeting with magical delegates)*

Seller: “Boy, you do realize how difficult it is to get siren scales, right? As far as I know, none of the shops in Fawcett sell it. Who is your dealer?”

Patrick: “My friends?”

Seller: “Your friends?! You know kids your age going after sirens so you can get scales?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”

Patrick: “It’s dangerous?! I had no idea??? They never come back hurt or complaining??”

Seller: “They’re coming back unscathed?? Who are your friends???!?”

Yeah… so that’s how Patrick found out about Captain and Mary Marvel being his two little suppliers/siblings. It took much poking and prodding and bribing, but eventually the two spilled. After that, they were just forced to take the money from Patrick anyways. He wasn’t gonna send them on those trips anymore. No siree. Doesn’t matter that they have superpowers.

Anyways, time moves on and unfortunately, Patrick was eventually old enough to be drafted into the war. He said bye to the kiddos went and came back, kept in contact with the kiddos up until the sixties when the time bubble appeared. By that time, Patrick was at least 30 and the twins had strangely not aged at all, not that he minded because Fawcett was weird like that. Thomas was a toddler at the time of it appearing. The time bubble caused Thomas to have a rather unfortunate early childhood as his father was always locked up in his study researching and wondering what the hell happened to the town, to the people, and to his friends. Fawcett was just gone. Practically overnight. Eventually though, he gave up and started focusing on his family again. He died thinking everyone in that little down had been erased.

Fast forward 50 something odd years and BAM the bubble pops! Billy and Mary are now in the present. They got to meet all of the new heroes, including Batman.

Marvel: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Batman Si- Patrick?”

Batman: “Pardon?”

Mary: “Holy shoot, Patrick really is you!”

Batman: “My name is not Patrick-”

Marvel: “You’re so…” *looks him up and down* “Youthful! Did you finally make that elixir thingy?”

Batman: “What?”

Marvel: “You know? The elixir you always talk about. It was an elixir, right?”

Mary: “Wasn’t it called the elixir of life?”

Batman: “No…? I haven’t worked on an elixir at any point in time.”

Marvel: “Yeah, you have. We saw you! You’d always read that little book and do a little experiments!”

Mary: “And then the experiment would fail, and then you’d come to us covered in ash because nine times out of ten it exploded. Then, you’d slap twenty dollars in our hand and ask for us to find more ingredients so you could do more experiments.”

Batman: “I’ve never done that in my life. I assure you I’ve never met you before this moment.”

Now you know what all those mystical ingredients were for. Patrick Wayne was casually doing Alchemy. Everyone in Fawcett is at least somewhat magical after all. He didn’t even know he was doing it too. He’d still worked on normal human gadgets though, which still allowed him to contribute to Wayne Enterprises.

Bruce later went to his study (once Patrick’s study) as he remembered one of the books on his shelves was related to Alchemy. When he eventually found it and pulled it from the shelf, a photo slipped out. It was a photo of a younger version of his Grandpa and two kids which he both had in headlocks. When Bruce flipped the photo over, scrawled on the back was a date. After getting sidetracked and deciding to dig up some information on his Grandfather, Bruce came to the startling realization that this was when Patrick left for the war. This was a commemoration photo. Interesting. It was also interesting that the other two people- children in the photo looked suspiciously like the Captain and his daughter. Was this Mary and another brother, one that didn’t dabble in heroics? It made sense now why the Captain and Mary talked to him like they knew him. They both must’ve thought he was his grandfather. Oh well, Bruce isn’t gonna spoil the surprise. He can find out more information on them if he lets them think he’s his grandfather.

Marvel: “The war really toughened you up, huh? Did you inhale chlorine gas and somehow survive?”

Mary: “No silly.” *elbows him* “He didn’t sound like this when he came back from the war so something else must’ve messed up his throat.”

Batman: “My throat isn’t messed up in any way, shape, or form.”

Mary: “It isn’t? So you talk like that on purpose…?”

Batman: *doesn’t want to give away he isn’t Patrick* “…Yes.”

Mary and Marvel: *share a look before pointing and laughing at him*

Any nearby Justice League member was visibly surprised that Batman didn’t glare at them. Bruce himself was surprised he didn’t as well.

Robin!Dick: *standing beside Bruce as Bruce works at a computer*

Marvel: “Oh Tommy! Wait, Pat, this is Tommy right?”

Mary: “Of course it’s not Tommy. He wouldn’t feed the elixir to him while he was a kid. But then again, you can be a little stupid…”

Robin!Dick: “Did you just call him stupid?” *sounds like he wants to laugh* “Also no I’m not Tommy.”

Marvel: “Then are you a grandson…?”

Robin!Dick: “N-”

Batman: “Yes, he is. This is Bruce.”

Robin!Dick: *extremely confused* “What?”

Marvel: “Oh cool!”

[ramhaiba]

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗍. 2

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part one

"For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. It’s me.”

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, oral (f receiving), dubcon, semi-public fingering, groping, choking, biting, manhandling, riding overstimulation, marathon sex, mentions of necrophilia/noncon, implied somnophila, baby trapping(?) A/N- sorry for the long wait guys, writer's block can be a bitch

Sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of your life-

No. letting him ‘help’ you was the biggest mistake of your life. 

Ever since you two had sex, he’s been sleeping in the same bed as you. You did attempt to persuade him to sleep on the couch once again but he simply responded with

‘We both saw what happens when I sleep on the couch, sweetheart. Besides, sharing the same bed might bring back some of those ‘dear’ memories you lost.”  As you predicted, it would be challenging to sneak out of your room at night, especially when Suna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked on your shoulder, and his stern back against your chest.

You thought about lying to him, telling him you’re getting up from bed to use the bathroom but really you’re planning to find his car keys and drive away from this nightmare. But what if you take too long and he gets suspicious? Last time you got lucky when he misunderstood your attempt to steal his car keys.

You hate that you spent the entire week with him, pretending to be in a loving marriage, kissing him sweetly, and sometimes bathing with him. But he hasn’t fucked you since the first time- well with his dick at least. 

If he thinks you look too cute in a nightgown- which you always do, he’ll push you down on the bed, scrunching up your silky slip-on onto your breast and shamelessly make out with your cunt, fingers holding your thighs down and apart to keep you from squirming away. He never fails to give you an intense orgasm. You're so addicted to his touch that you don’t know how you’ll be able to cum again once you escape from him...While on the topic of escaping, you’re finding the idea of freedom too difficult to obtain by yourself. You’re gonna need help.

“ So- I remember you mentioned before that we were still friends with twins from high school” You blurted out while having dinner with your ‘fiancé.’

“ Yeah, Osamu and Atsumu. What about them?” Suna asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think you should invite them over. I think it’d be good for me to meet someone from my past” you suggested.

“ It’d be hard to contact them because the service in this place is horrible” Suna claimed, leaning back in his chair. You let out an instant “oh” with a noticeable pout on your lips.

Then you heard Suna sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay. There is this part of the house where the service is somewhat usable. But it’s on the roof so I don’t want you following me there. Your body is still sore which makes it difficult for you to stay up there without falling” Suna pointed out.

He’s right. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you try going on that roof. So the idea of stealing his phone to call for help isn’t possible.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Rin” You complimented. “ Yeah well, I gotta keep my wife happy” Suna got up and kissed your forehead before retreating upstairs.

You waited impatiently for Suna to come back down. A sick part of you wishes that he’d accidentally slip off the roof, breaking his neck because then you’d be freed from this nightmare. But he only takes twenty minutes to come back down, placing his phone back into his pocket as he walks towards you.

“So? Did they say yes?” you questioned. “They said they would love to stop by. But I had to make Atsumu promise he wouldn’t bring another hookup over. I better start cooking dinner because those two guys know how to eat- especially Osamu” Suna replied, giving you an endearing pat on the head as he went to prepare for their arrival. 

--

You hadn’t seen any pictures of the twins prior before they arrived, so it was quite intimidating when two muscular tall men stood at your doorstep. The dark-haired one holding a classic bottle of wine. While Atsumu opened his arms to you, giving you an unwelcomed hug.

“There is our Y/n. It’s been too long since we saw ya” The bold twin one cooed, his arms around you tightened.

“You’re one foot in and already flirtin’ with my fiance- don’t you have any shame, Atsumu?” Suna replied, subtly informing you of the difference between the twins.

So if the blonde, somewhat pervy, twin was Atsumu. The other one must be Osamu.

“I ain’t flirting. I was just being friendly to a friend who’s gotten into a terrible- just terrible accident “ Atsumu pouted.

“I decided to tell them your situation. I hope you don’t mind” Suna commented, smiling innocently.

It’s unsettling.

They’re completely lying to you- you’re not friends with them. How are they so eerily confident then? How can these two lie straight to your face and pretend that you’re Suna's fianc��?

Because you’re not. You’re not his fiancé. 

Right?

Dinner with them made you even more confused. They’re doing the same thing that Suna did. Reciting old stories about your so-called past together. It’s getting more difficult to distinguish what’s the truth or not. Yet Atsumu’s words manage to slip you back into reality.

“You should really be thanking me. If I didn’t set you two up in college- y’all would not be getting married.. at least Suna wouldn’t be” Atsumu teased.

“I thought we started dating in high school?” You spoke up, pointing out Atsumu’s mistake. Rather than Atsumu getting embarrassed for making such an innocent mistake. 

Atsumu got nervous.

If you weren’t already so superstitious during dinner, you wouldn’t have noticed how he blinked away, how forced his laughter sounded, and how his brother deadly glared at him.

“Would you pardon us? I think I have to remind Atsumu about some manners” Osamu asked, seeming all friendly while his jawline clenched, a fist under the table. 

Suna clicked him, glancing at a nervous Atsumu and then back at Osamu.” Go ahead,” Suna replied.

You were left alone with him once again.

You and your fiancé-No. He’s not your fiancé. You and your demon.

“You’re lookin’ a bit nervous, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay? Just say the word and I can get these idiots to leave any time” Suna suggested. “No- they don’t need to leave. I just need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. That’s all” Your laughter sounded a bit too forced, sweaty palms pushing you up out of your seat. “Don’t take too long” Suna mumbled, watching you march quickly out of the dining room.

This is your chance.

You can ask- no- you're going to beg the twins to help you because surely, they wouldn’t want to risk being an accomplice for a serial killer.

You followed their distant voices, words too unintelligible to understand. Eventually, you ended up in front of the door connecting the garage to the summer house. Luckily, they left the door slightly ajar, allowing you to hear their conversation clearly.

You were about to walk in before you heard Osamu say

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot, ‘Tsumu? At this point, Suna not gonna let either of us have a turn with her” Osamu argued with his brother.

“Shut up- shut up. I’m a fuckin’ volleyball player not an actor” Atsumu huffed. “Yeah and I own a restaurant but I know how to keep my story straight,” Osamu remarked.

“I don’t even know why Suna cares s’much about keeping up this whole game” Atsumu commented.

“he’s just gonna kill her like the rest.”

Your heart is racing because your last hope of escaping this n nightmare just revealed they could care less about your life- fuck they could be worse than Suna. Instinctually, you step away from the door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. But that’s when you feel a stern chest against your back, stopping you from backing away. You slowly turn your head and notice Suna behind you, his eyes glued on the view of the twins arguing about whether they’ll still get a ‘turn’ with you after Atsumu’s mishap.

“Rin-“

“Quiet. It’s always amusing to watch the twins argue, right? “ Suna replied, his hand tilting your face to watch the twins, his chin resting on top of your head, forcing you to watch the truth unfold.

“You know he does sadistic shit like this all the time. Just try to have fun with her while she’s still alive” Osamu huffed.

“I didn’t come here to play an actor. I just wanna fuck her before Suna finally cuts her up or whatever sadistic shit he plans to do with her” Atsumu groaned.

“ Yeah, well, there's no way in hell he’s gonna let you have a turn with her if you don’t play along correctly. You’d be lucky if he even lets you fuck her corpse” 

Atsumu hummed, his once annoyed attitude slowly disappearing as he looked lost in thought- until he made the comment

“I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.”

You want to stop listening but Suna won’t let you. “Please, just let me go and I won’t- I won’t tell anyone” you muttered, voice cracking. Suna laid his forehead on your shoulder, you could feel his smile on his skin.

“What about our wedding?” he cooed, voice teasing, his hands wrapping around your waist, tips of his fingers sliding under your waistband.

“Rintarou, please- I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything just don’t hurt me” you begged. 

“I don’t like when you call me by my first name, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble” Suna commented, a soft pout on his lips. This time his hands are traveling further down the inside of your pants until his fingers are tracing over your covered slit. You wish you could fight his touch but you’re too scared to upset him.

“Rin, I don’t wanna pretend anymore. I just wanna go home” You’re starting to cry and he doesn’t need to look at your face to know that tears are pouring out of your eyes.

You act like you’re strong but the second you’re faced with a challenge, you crack like glass. So easy to read. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much.

“You wanna go home? Go ahead and ask the twins for help. But I don’t if they’ll be that compliant” Suna suggested. He’s right. He’s always right.

“I like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so infatuated with a person like this before. So I’ll give you two choices. You could either go beg the twins to take you away from this ‘hell house’ or

you can become my pretty wife”

 You don't want any of that. You want to run far far away. But he’ll catch you like he did the first time and then he might actually kill you.

“So, what will it be, princess?” He repeats, forcing you to break from your silence. That nickname, it always appears when his true colors are shown. You're starting to hate that word because now you associate it with danger.

“How do I know you won’t kill me,” you ask, in the quietest voice, afraid of his answer. He chuckles at your question, raises his head from your shoulder, and smiles.

“Because I'll never get bored of you.”

That’s all it takes. You nod your head, not wanting to hear yourself agree to stay. To be his, forever.

He leans over, lips almost touching yours, narrow eyes with an unwearying stare forcing you to look at him. 

“You know how to keep quiet, don’t you Mrs. Suna?”

That’s when his wandering fingers finally slip beneath your panties and you’re reminded that Osamu and Atsumu are right behind the door in front of you. “Rin, not here” you begged, squirming to get out of his grip, only for him to hold you tighter.

“Why not? Atsumu would probably wanna hear, that fuckin’ freak” Suna laughed. Just as you were about to utter an argument, you’re cut short by the painfully slow pumping of Suna’s fingers, thrusting into your cunt. You feel weak.

Instead of telling him to stop, your words cut into a breathy moan and Suna is forced to lean over to your ear.

“ Careful, princess. You don’t want them to hear you.” He whispered a reminder, tongue poking out of his mouth to lick a stripe down your neck, causing you only to tighten around his long thrusting fingers. 

“ Try to argue with me but I can feel how wet you are. Maybe you’re the crazy one huh? Or maybe it’s both of us. Guess we're soulmates then” he’s talking more than he usually does. Maybe because he knows you're scared to get caught.

Or maybe he’s drunk on the success of your agreement to your engagement. Doesn’t matter because he’s only getting more confident, pulling down the neckline of your shirt as long as your bra with his other hand, groping the soft skin of your breast all while his thumb is massaging your clit.

Fuck- you’re so close and he’s so fucking hard, forced to grind his painful erection against your back.

You feel pathetic when you're uncontrollably humping his ruthless fingers, chasing your high. 

When you hear him chuckle from behind you, most likely realizing your movement- he has no right to sound so fucking sexy.

“Can’t believe you were begging me to stop, aren’t you just the prettiest liar.” He mumbles.

And you’re finishing on his fingers, legs shaking, eyes tearing up, your hands covering your mouth muffling uncontrollable moans.

Suna slowly pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing his drenched fingers into your mouth, disgustedly making you clean his fingers, tasting yourself. 

He spins you towards him, leaning over to wipe off your smeared make up, fixing your appearance for you because you are all too stunned by what has just occurred.

Just on time, Atsumu and Osamu are opening the door, both surprised to see you.

“ Holy fuck- how long were you two standing there" Atsumu called out. You both turn around to look at them, Suna wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

“We just walked in actually” Suna lied for your sake.

“ Well…Wow! look at the time- “ Atsumu said, checking his watch, pretending to read the time. “It’s getting late, ain’t it? I’m a bit too tired to drive…guess me and Osamu gotta stay over the night” Atsumu whistled.

Holy fuck- Atsumu and Osamu still think they have a chance with you. 

You’re beginning to tremble at Suna’s side, fully not trusting him to protect you.

“I’ll call you two an uber,” Suna says blankly.

You could see Atsumu grit his teeth, not knowing why he wasn’t getting rewarded for  his ‘efforts.’

“Well- can we at least visit tomorrow” Osamu questioned, trying to hint if they’ll at least have a chance to fuck your dead corpse.

Sick mother fuckers. Just like Suna- maybe even worse.

“Next time we’ll see you is at our wedding” Suna smiled passively aggressively, knowing he just pissed off the twins.

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely attending to spoil the truth because Suna ruined all of his ‘fun.’ But Osamu stops him by gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt.

“ No need to argue with an old friend. We’ll leave… just call us next time when we’re allowed to come over” Osamu sighed.

Then they proceed to leave. Not without Atsumu forcing you into a hug, his hand dangerous lying on your lower back, a final act of perversion. They leave and you’re left alone with Suna and his narrow eyes are locked on yours. 

“Could fuck you here or on the bed. Pick one”

There is no option to deny him. He is going to be your husband after all.

“Bed.”

He’s not even letting you walk there, probably thinking you’ll move too slowly for his liking. So he's picking you up effortlessly because of his muscular arms, delivering you to the bedroom before and tossing you onto the mattress. He’s on top of you in a heartbeat, his hands tugging off your clothes, not caring if you’re telling him to slow down because they’ll rip.

He’ll buy you a new one- fuck he’ll buy you anything you’d want as long as he gets to fuck that tight pussy of yours.

Your heart is slipping at the sound of his belt unbuckling, too nervous to look at the sight of him sliding down any of the clothes covering his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ you raw, yeah? Doesn’t matter anymore since we’ll be married soon” Suna clicks his tongue, holding his heavy cock in his hands, pressing his leaking tip against your hole.

You shake your head frantically, “Don’t please Rin- don’t do that to me” you shuttered.

“ What? Ya afraid you’ll conceive the devil’s reincarnation? For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. 

It’s me.”

Without another argument he’s forcing himself into your shameless cunt causing a gasp to slip out of your mouth, not waiting for you to adjust until he’s fucking you into the bed. You’re holding onto everything but him. And he doesn’t like this- it’s not wife behavior is it?

So he leans over and painfully bites into your collarbone, “ hurt me back.” He commands.

And you give him exactly what he wants, slipping your hands under his shirt, digging your nails into his toned back, causing him to only get fuck you harder like it a competition on who can break the quickest.

You’re not holding back your moans- thankful for the lack of people near you, only giving Suna the privilege of hearing them.

Once you orgasm for the second time that night, he’s switching positions and forcing you to take him on his lap, his back resting on the bed frame.

You know what he wants you to do but you’re already so tired, you drowsily shake your head, hoping he’ll stop, and let finally you sleep.

Except all you do is annoy him, hissing under his breath as his hands grip your hips, forcing you to bounce on his cock, overstimulating your insides.

“ Slow down, Rin-“ you asked, knowing he won’t let you stop but at least the idea of slowing down seems possible.

“You wanna go slow, princess? Then you gotta do it yourself” he commented. You hesitate before nodding your head, thinking it’s a better option than letting him fuck you relentlessly.

His hands go behind his head while yours leans over on his thigh, slowly pushing yourself up, sucking in your breath and you sink back down.

Suna whistled at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, acting like the perfect wife. 

He’s moving the hair out of your face before wrapping his hands around your neck, freaking you out as he lightly squeezes the sides of your neck. The action is causing you to stop your movement.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked, tightening the grip around your neck, making it harder to breathe, a growing light-headed.

Your hands are shaking as you’re lifting yourself up and down on his cock. It’s humiliating, knowing you’re getting off because of him- how easily he has control of your body

“Say you’ll stay” he pants, chest heaving, feeling your cunt squeezing on his cock because of his husky voice.

“ Say you’ll stay forever. Can’t ever leave my side, princess. Dont think I can live without this pussy” he asks, face flushed.

“ I’ll stay—Rin” you managed to croak out with the tightness around your neck.

That’s all he needs until he’s leaning over to your torso, hands moving to grip your waist,  forcing you to stay still on his cock, cumming deep into your pussy.

You think that’ll be it for tonight until he’s pulling back and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth, hands moving to grope your breast again until he’s hard once more.

He’s manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees. He's behind you, watching your legs shake as he guides his cock back into your stuffed pussy, fucking his leaking cum back into you.

You’re screaming from overstimulation, tears soaking the bed sheet under your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheet. You feel like you’re being crushed when he presses his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach, cock bullying your insides.

He’s never this energetic.

And you’re also never this honest, finally admitting to knowing the truth behind this charade. But you tell him you’ll stay isn’t something he believes in.

“ Bet you’re thinking about leavin’ when I’m asleep, yeah?” He huffed against the nape of your neck.

“You’d probably find a way to kill me first though. You’re not dumb enough to think I won’t find you” he uttered, talking to you as if he’s not fucking you into oblivion.

“ Doesn’t matter if m’dead or not. I’ll always be with you- every second til the day you fuckin' die, you'll be thinking about me. dreaming about me. haunted by me. So don’t you dare test me. Just be good and I’ll be good back. I fuck you good as well” he adds, his finger rubbing your swollen clit while his hips are forcing you to the edge, squeezing his cock so hard he can’t pull out to cum- not like he was going to do in the first place.

Suna lifts himself and rolls you to the side, admiring your fucked out expression, how you’re staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as you recover from your intense orgasm.

“ Maybe if fuck a baby into you. You wouldn't be able to leave,”Suna commented, the lack of playfulness in his tone suggested to you that he was actually serious about the idea of knocking you up.

“ I'm not - I not planning on leaving— I won’t do it, Rin. I’m telling the truth” you babbled, crying at the idea of going another round, hands frantically wiping down tears that felt never-ending.

Suna chuckles because for once, he believes you. He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll be nice and give you a morning-after pill I got laying around somewhere afterward, yeah? I’ll take care of you, but you gotta take care of me,” he cooed.

You are too cute. So much more innocent than Suna is- never committing the horrendous crimes he’s done. And he thinks you begging him to spare you from sex is so much more exciting than you begging him for your life.

But to you- it feels like you’re begging for the same thing. You’ll die if he fucks you again- that your body is too overstimulated and exhausted.

That doesn’t stop him- nothing will really, from getting hard, thrusting into you again. You don’t know when he stopped fucking you- was it after you passed out the third time? Or did he continue ever after that? When it’s over, you’re half awake, back leaning on his chest, his hand ushering you to take the suggested birth control in his hand. Then slowly tilt the glass of water down your mouth. While you manage to drink the refreshing liquid, you get a glance of the mess between your spread legs, cum shameless dripping out and you wish you never met him.

You’re awake and you don’t feel physically dirty, the evidence of cum wiped off your legs by Suna while you were sleeping. 

If he hadn’t marked your body with his teeth and hands, you’d almost pretend last night was nonexistent. Plus the aroma coming from him cooking from the kitchen downstairs only ruins the fantasy even more.

Maybe you’ll run away one day and get away with it. But you can’t say you could ever truly escape, Suna.

Because that would just make you a liar.

taglist @fynn1issshh @kodsuken

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @flavoredhappy @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @thatbaepizzalover @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins (more in replies!)

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[yan-randomfandom]

HIIIIIIII I love your writing alot!!!! Soo, I wanna request something:3

Maybe a Yandere Stanford Pines x GN reader who only saw him as a close friend? They became friends when they were still in high-school up to this day! (Yes, reader did sort of wait 30 years for Ford and never forgot about him)

Maybe just Stanford obsessing over Reader romantically, and Reader just think him as the greatest best-friend ever!!

I LOVE ONE SIDED PINNING OKAY????

Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

UM UH,,, IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON— and it's something I'm not even proud of 😭😭

context btw; reader doesn't know about weirdmaggedon or fake death or entire lore, they dont tell them anything uhhh idk anymore

You took the bus to Gravity Falls! Stanley reached out to you after decades of not having contact. It was a bit sudden, but there's no way you're going to ignore his call.

Stanley Pines was the first man you saw when the Mystery Shack's door opened. Wrinkly, exhausted widened eyes looked at you in silence. He looked unprepared... kind of crusty musty... and very unhygienic.

"You look disgusting! I'm gonna hug you anyway!" you beamed, pulling him in for a big hug. Unwillingly, a strong whiff of his scent hits your nose. "You stink too! You haven't changed a bit, Stanley."

"Glad to know ya missed me," he laughed, giving you an affectionate noogie.

When Stan finally let you go, you looked up to see Ford. He stood in front of you, speechless as he stared into your eyes.

"...Ford," you grinned, walking towards him. In curiosity, you placed your palms on both his cheeks. He seemed to relax with your touch. "You changed a lot."

Your eyes, while they've wrinkled, are as warm as the day he last saw them. He smiled back, his large hand covering one of yours. Your smile widened when you saw his fingers. "And you aged beautifully."

Poetic as always! A laugh bubbled up your throat as you wrapped your arms around him.

He quickly returned the gesture, burying his face into your neck. He missed this. He missed you.

Your warmth didn't change. Fascinating.

"I missed you, man! How come you're such a silver fox now? Good for you!"

"I still have no idea what a silver fox is," he chuckled, already longing for you the second you pulled away from him.

Ford merely stood there for a few moments before he grimaced. Damn it. He still likes you, doesn't he?

It's been more than thirty years already. He thought he would have moved on, especially after the whole weirdmaggedon thing. Why would Stanley ever get the idea of calling you back here??

All of you now sat at the table with you in between the Pines twins. Mabel wore an apron, sophisticatedly offering you tea. The sweetheart made the recipe herself!

"So, how have you been doing these days?" Ford asked, resting his cheek on his palm. Every passing second with you, he gets reminded more and more of why he used to like you.

You are, after all, the first and only person to not call him any sort of names because of his hands.

"Oh, I mean, I've been financially doing well, and it's been a bit difficult to settle down with a partner... but," you blushed. "I think I finally found the one."

Ford coughed out violently, pounding a fist against his chest. He really shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't! You're bound to have found someone!

Get a grip. Fourty. Years.

...He truly had missed out on this dimension for such a long time.

...

The sky is dark. Dipper told you about the roof spot at the shack, and now you're here, thinking about life.

"Dipper said you'd be here," a voice murmured. You looked up and saw Ford walking up to you. Chuckling, you offered him a non-alcoholic drink.

"How many days will you be staying here again?" Ford asked as he sat next to you, sparing a small space between.

"A week at most," you shrugged, kicking your legs at the edge. Ford simply stared at you.

"I guess it'll be forever before we see you again, huh?" he mumbled.

You turned to him with a smile. "Of course not. You guys are invited to my wedding."

... Wedding.

A small huff left your lips. "We're so old now. I still remember being in high school and grouping up with you and Stan when a trio was needed. Good times."

Ford continued staring at you.

"You guys were my best friends. Probably not now, I mean, been decades since we last talked. That reminds me, what made you call—"

Ford suddenly interrupted you with a hug.

"Woah, Fordsy, you miss me that much?" you laughed, hugging him back.

Don't call him that. His arms around you tightened.

You simply let him hug you.

It was such a long one.

And it only grew tighter by the second.

Like he never wanted to let you go again.

but his aim is getting better 🗣️

i love your idea so much btw, i too am a fan of one-sided pining.... the desperation yk.. I THINK I JUST SUCK AT WRITING FOR THAT WHAT 😟 (says the yandere blog)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Your gravity falls fanfics are so good!! :0 if you’re still taking requests could I request a one shot where Stan’s s/o is with him during the fight between him and ford and they get sucked into the portal instead of ford? I love your angst so much hehehe

Part two is right here

You had originally came with Stanley as support for when he confronts Ford after spending a long period of his life with no contact, no nothing to reassure his twin that he was fine and not dead in a ditch somewhere.

‘The nerve of him, living it up here and not so much as a word to his one brother, his twin no less.’ Stan muttered, his gip tightened on your hand as you both walked up to the lonely shack amidst the snowy forest, but there was something else there besides anger it was nervousness or perhaps worry that his brother didn’t contact him for one reason or another.

‘And here’s your chance to make yourself heard,’ you said as you squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort Stan during this difficult moment for him, ‘you’ve spent enough time to mull over what it is that you want to tell him, now is the time to let him know how much this has affected you and he will have to listen regardless.’

However you’ve came to realise that there was a lot more going on that Ford claims that you and Stanley weren’t aware of as his eyes shifted everywhere out of paranoia. You were still blinking your eyes after getting abruptly blinded by Ford upon first meeting, something about possession? You were certain this wasn’t how you thought you’d be meeting Stan’s twin -not in the slightest- but it was clear to you that Ford was afraid of something, what it was he wouldn’t tell only saying that he needed Stan to hide his journals, scatter them as far from each other which did nothing but annoy Stan.

You could see the clench in his jaw and his fists and were about to reach out and ground him but before you could blink, Stan and Ford were tussling over the journal across the lab as the portal thrummed with power, almost as if entertained by the fight between twins and you were left unable to do anything but watch.

‘Is that all you brought me here for! To help you hide your journals?! I bet I didn’t cross your mind not even once!’ Stanley shouted as he kept the journal close to his chest with his lighter as he managed to keep Ford where he wanted him.

‘You don’t understand Stanley! This is dangerous things you are holding in your hands!’ Ford replied, eyes firmly locked onto the journal and the flickering flame of his brother’s lighter that got too close to the journal’s pages for his liking. ‘Think about the potential threats-‘

‘Fuck that! I want my brother back!’ Stanley cuts his brother off as he grew frustrated at how his brother was - once again- not listening to him or what he had to say. ‘You could’ve called upon me any time! But you only call upon me when you want someone else to do your dirty work for you! What about what I want! My life is in ruins because of you!’ Ford lunged towards Stan and managed to knock the lighter out of his hand, grasping at the bottom half of the journal while Stanley tightened his grip on the upper half of the journal.

‘You ruined your own life and you’ll ruin y/n’s with the way that you are going!’ Ford retorts in a strained voice as he and Stanley tugged the journal in two different ways, just for Stanley to loose his grip, fall backwards and hurt himself on a hot surface that caused him to scream in pain. ‘Stanley!’ You and Ford yelled as you both went to rush to Stan’s aid, hoping he wasn’t too hurt, only for him to Punch Ford in the face and as Ford stumbled backwards he bumped into you. which then caused you to fall back into a lever of sorts; before soon finding yourself beginning to float and be drawn towards the portal with nothing to grab onto to prevent it from happening.

Freaking out you yelled, ‘STANLEY! HELP ME!’ You screamed as you found yourself getting closer and closer to the entrance of the portal, helplessly flailing out of pure panic and need to get away from it, not realising that your attempts to get away were fruitless. Your screams had dragged Ford and Stan from their fight as they could only watch in horror as half of your body was already in the portal.

‘Y/n! Baby! HOLD ON! JUST HOLD ON BABY IM COMING!’ Stanley yelled back as he frantically looked for anything he could use to rope you back to the ground, but grew frustrated when he couldn’t find not a single piece of rope or metal rod lying about, the lab was clean of any and all obstruction. ‘FORD HELP ME!’ He cried as he looked back at his twin, who was frantically looking himself for anything to get you away from the portal, just to face the same problem that frustrated Stanley. ‘I’m trying!’ He shouted over his shoulder as his guilt for bringing both you and Stan here began to weigh down on him heavily.

‘Well you’re not looking hard enough!’ Stanley barked as the fear of losing you was slowly crushing his chest, making it harder for him to breath as his mind raced with the thought of having to live a life without you, his anchor, his best friend and his beloved partner. He hated it, he didn’t want to envision it but here he was living the nightmare he swore would never come true, feeling helpless and useless as he was forced to hear your frightened sounds and not be able to do anything about it.

He didn’t even get to say the words ‘I love you’ yet as he was scared that you’d find someone better then him before he even mustered up the courage, but you never did. You stayed by his side, even if it mean moving from state to state almost every week because of him and Stanley knew he didn’t deserve you, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to loose you from his life either.

Stan and Ford tired their hardest but it wasn’t enough as by the time they looked back at you, your outstretched hand was the last thing the pair saw as the portal closed, leaving them to stare at the portal in denial of their failure to rescue you. ‘Baby?’ Sanely said as he stepped forward hesitantly. ‘BABY! THIS ISNT FUNNY! COME OUT PLEASE!’ He cried louder now when the realisation began to set for him as he ran towards the lever, pulling it and pushing it in desperation of re-opening the portal in hopes of seeing you rush out and right into his arms; where he would keep you for as long as you’d allow him to.

Only for neither of those things to happen, the portal remained shut and you remained lost to whatever was on the opposite side, scared, confused and alone.

‘WHY ISNT IT WORKING!’ Stan screamed as he pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled the lever so much that Ford had to physically drag him away from it before he broke it, thus making more work for them in getting you back. ‘Stop Stanley, it’s not working!’ Ford said as he managed to stand between his twin and the lever, ‘the portal is out of power, it won’t open up unless we get the necessary materials to open it again.’

‘Then what are we doing! Let’s go get it!’ Stanley said as he was about to leave the lab but was stoped by Ford’s hand on his arm, which he shrugged off violently. ‘It’s not so easily obtained Stanley,’ Ford said as he let his hand drop to his side as Stanley glared at him, ‘we need money to get the parts needed to power the portal up. I only had enough to open it once and that took a lot of time, even with Fiddleford’s help, and without him or the necessary materials…’ Ford trailed off which didn’t help Stanley’s mood as he grew angrier at his brother’s insinuation.

‘They’re trapped on the other side forever?!’ He yelled. ‘Bullshit! I don’t believe that! I want them back now!’ Stanley then grabs Ford by the collar and brings him so that they were eye to eye. ‘Give them back or I swear to fucking god Stanford-‘

‘I can’t bring them back without the necessary materials Stanley I told you.’ Ford reaffirmed as he started at his heartbroken twin as the first signs of tears left his eyes, Ford felt Stan’s grip loosened on him until they went completely slack at his side as he fell to his knees, chin dropping to his chest as he silently wept. ‘Bring them back.’ Stanley chanted softly, ‘being them back to me, I can’t loose them. You don’t understand. They’re everything to me and now I’m nothing without them.’ Stanley whispered to the air as if someone with the power to grant his wish will hear him, but instead elected to ignore him and his pleads.

Ford, heartbroken at seeing how distraught and lifeless his brother had became, slowly knelt in front of him in silence, not knowing how to comfort him correctly as he felt himself to blame for your disappearance into the portal. He had taken away the one person who cared for Stanley in the times where his family couldn’t be bothered, someone who loved him unconditionally regardless of what he did and Ford had taken you away from him seemingly forever, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley would hold a grudge against him for it.

However one thing was for certain, he’d help his brother get you back however he could, no matter how long it would take them, even if it took them thirty years to do so; it was a risk that Ford originally wasn’t willing to take but if it meant getting you back to Stanley then he’d do anything to see his brother happy again.

[amazinglyashy]

Crow on the Ring

Read on AO3 Pairings: Sylus x Reader, Luke and Kieran & Reader Tags: Gender Neutral Pronouns, Domestic Fluff, Getting your Nails Done Wordcount: 1,116 Summary: Sylus wonders to himself- if there was any point in having henchmen anymore. If they were going to consistently be busy with his partner getting their nails done rather than helping him with... actual henchmen things...?

It was... difficult , to say the least. 

Coming to the realization that one could no longer go out on jobs, flanked by his own henchmen. You know, the ones he had meticulously hired, trained, and paid more than living wages for for their less than savory duties half of the time. Hell, even housing and clothing them since they seemed to need it, even despite how much you paid them.

Yet, here Sylus was. Standing alone on the train platform to go home. By himself. In the wind. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

Nice.

It wasn't that it annoyed him particularly badly, no. He had done so many things in his life on his own, you wouldn't be able to count them even if you used all of the fingers of the hands of the men he had culled today, mowed down by the very pistol concealed on the inside of his coat, blocking out the chill of the season. Hell, he was even used to sending the twins home early if he didn't think he needed them for cleanup or anything- benefits of Sylus's evol was it usually didn't leave any traces of blood or carnage… that is, as long as he didn't want it to- So, that being said, he was painfully familiar with working alone.

But there was a stark difference between working alone because you were used to it, and working alone because your partner had been wanting to get their nails done for weeks at a trendy salon near the bad side of Linkon, and your own personal henchmen- you know, the ones you trained and paid for- had decided they would go with your partner to… protect them from the possible thugs lurking around nearby, spending their time daring the other to get their nails done too, without so much as a passing question to their boss about whether or not they were allowed to go.

They'd stopped asking a long time ago.

Somehow, Sylus found himself thinking that was a good thing, as he stepped past passengers and crossed the threshold of the train car. He wasn't entirely sure how he came to that conclusion, but as he stood leaning against one of the grab bars, his phone dinged with a text notification, and it showed him the path easily. He pulled it from his pocket, knowing fully well who it could be, the coat on his shoulder unnecessary to stave off the chill of the season anymore. His heart had been sparked enough to do the job on its own.

And somewhere along the line, it had become less about work- less about protocore auctions, deals gone good and deals gone sour, hitlists that spanned far longer than they should have given how much trust and faith Sylus would try and put into people- and that was because of you, only you- and oftentimes gorey scenes that Sylus had more than become accustomed to himself- and more about... You.

About the way you did things so differently from how he did, the fresh perspective perplexing at first, until he had finally fallen in with the routine. But even still, routine was a term used loosely. There was no routine to you. Maybe he could have a set schedule of when you went to cafes or hung out with your friends and coworkers, but that wasn't what he was referring to. No, his mind was drawn to the strange little things you did, to the way you were infectious to everyone you managed to cross without even realizing it- infectious to the ones that mattered. And only to the ones that would ever matter, whether you realized it or not yet- whether you had met them all or not, yet. 

Infectious in the way that he was looking at three matching nail sets in a photo you had sent in the group chat, the emojis of goofy faces popping up from Luke and then Kieran as they added their wordless two cent commentary to the image. The designs were all slightly different from each other, but a similar theme was apparent on each pair of hands. Red, black, and with a crow painted meticulously on each of your ring fingers. The caption underneath read You can see better in person shortly- we're waiting for you at the end of your line! and it made Sylus's heart warm even more than he would ever admit to anyone but you.

He moved to type.

And how do you know which line I'm taking, sweetie? Which platform are you on- the north, or the south?

The three of you had left far before Sylus had left for his job, and he distinctly remembered that not one of you had asked him where he was even going. Not a care in the world, but he guessed that would be your own undoing someday. Particularly, today- He'd been met with silence for a moment, the dot, dot, dot of texts in progress from all three of you went on painfully long, before you finally broke the silence with the shortest text to be sent after such a long period of time.

There's two of you, split up! You had texted back, not to Sylus, but to the twins, and somehow, Sylus found the act amusing enough that a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Obviously, the three of you were still next to each other, wherever you had ended up in your search for him. There was no need to send the text when you could speak it out loud. 

But that begged the question of where was the fun in that? Where was the hilarity? If you did things the way they should be done, if any of the three of you did, it would be so much different. It would be so much worse. It wouldn’t be the way that you always handled things- clumsy, chaotic, just a little bit out there with your decisions and actions. Because what of it being harder, or more work, or senseless? It was what made sense to you, and the way you viewed the world was a magic Sylus didn’t know existed prior to meeting you. He wanted to see the way you viewed the world through those beautiful eyes of yours, and he wanted you to show him. He wanted you to show him what it meant to care for the twins and their shenanigans, to cause trouble and find the humor in the smallest things- the little things in life. 

He wanted it all from you. 

Even the weird, chaotic bits.

Sylus truly wouldn't have it, any other way.

[alicethenobody]

My headcanons about the Sparda twins coming back from hell.

-They’re stuck for about 11 months, after they find a way out after managing to sever those stupid roots so they don’t bother anybody anymore.

-Just in time for Patty’s 19th birthday party!

-Somehow they accidentally end up there, and chaos ensues.

-Patty scolds Dante for missing her birthday party last year and cries tears of joy at the same time knowing he’s finally home, she’d visited DMC everyday to see if Dante had turned up and now she doesn’t have to wait anymore to see him again. After the scolding she gives him as tight of a hug as she can. Dante promises to make it up to her and reassures her he didn’t mean to neglect her on her birthday. Patty demands double the presents, and even though he doubts he can afford much he’ll try to find a way. He can’t say no to Pattycakes.

-Btw for those who don’t know the novel reveals Dante planned on seeing Patty after handling Urizen, he just didn’t want to go to the party itself because he feels uncomfortable and like a freak around “normal” (his words) people like Patty’s friends and thinks he’s dangerous to be around.

-Vergil is confused. Very confused. They act a lot like family. Could Dante have had a kid? He never said anything about that.

-Nope. They’re just really tightly knit found family.

-Patty eventually starts roasting Dante like usual, mainly for how he smells horrible and his hair is a mess. She demands that he showers right now.

-Vergil decides he likes Patty already and teams up with her to roast his brother and tells him “Do what she says, Dante. You wouldn’t want to make her upset.” In the most smug way fucking possible.

-Dante wanted to go back to the shop right away considering he’d been gone for so long, but again, he really can’t say no to Patty.

-They return to DMC after that. Nero is there and he’s silently shocked for a moment when the twins walk through the door, in the middle of an argument about something really stupid. Probably about pizza toppings. Nothing really serious just normal sibling banter.

-“GUYS! GUYS! GUYS! Can we please talk?!”

-Dante, realizing Nero is there, is giddy to see his nephew. However… Nero gives him a swift uppercut to the jaw.

-This leads to Nero dragging Dante somewhere they can talk alone. He demands an explanation as to why Dante never told him about anything.

-This will be difficult, but Dante knows he needs to explain stuff to him. It’s only fair. He has a right to know.

-He doesn’t open up about his trauma that lead to all this, that’d be out of character. But he does explain to Nero the best he can that the Sparda family has a long, bloody and traumatic history and he thought if Nero got involved he’d get hurt and he didn’t want the only family he had left to get hurt, or ruin the happy life he was living with Kyrie.

-He expects another punch from Nero, he thinks he deserves it, but instead Nero crushes him with a hug.

-“Never fucking do that again, idiot. From now on we’re family, you got it? No more secrets.”

-Dante nearly cries as he says “You have my word, kid.” in the goofiest, most overjoyed way possible. Also he’s kinda nervous about it at first because he’s not used to receiving affection anymore but he hugs Nero back.

-Vergil on the other hand? Having a… relationship with him is gonna be difficult as hell. It’ll take a while before Vergil and Nero are comfortable around each other. Kyrie and Dante play a big role in helping the two, though Vergil was a lot more reluctant at first to accept his little bro’s help.

-Also Vergil lives with Dante and let’s just say the business is a lot better with him around. They still bicker a lot but it’s out of love because what siblings don’t annoy each other?

Will Nero ever learn about the Sparda family’s history in better detail? I have a lot of thoughts about that, as well as possible plot points in a DMC 6 type scenario but I just wanted this post to be about the immediate return from hell.

Edit: Wanted to mention I also have thoughts about Nero’s side of things while the twins were in hell about what he was doing and how he was feeling and all that stuff but this post is mainly about this twins.

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, CH 1 - Yandere!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either. Word Count: 6.7K Tags: for this chapter, blow jobs (between stsg)

“What a day…” you sigh, as you slump into one of the stools of your café’s bar. No one ‘s ever said maintaining these types of jobs are easy. You have lost count how many times you’ve been yelled at for accidentally fucking up people’s orders. You try to give yourself a little grace; you’re a newbie here and you’re still adjusting to your new job. It’s just something a little extra to help pay off the tuition while you’re going through graduate school. It’s nothing you can’t handle, and yet…the day’s not over.

You’re already so over it. You hate these kinds of jobs. Everyone does! But they really aren’t kidding about it after all huh? And it’s only been a month or so since you’ve come to this job.

And you still have a pile of assignments waiting to be completed when you get home, too!

Why do you put this on yourself? Aw, yeah, that’s right! You want to instill a little bit more of a disciplined lifestyle because you sorely lack in it. Without a doubt you do if you are already considering quitting cold turkey! Maybe the youth is more privileged these days…

You overhear tidbits of a distant conversation as you wipe down the countertop. You’re already perking up a little. Oh, you recognize the voices of some regulars!

“Mr. Geto! The café is still open!! Can we please get crepes?” you hear an over-excited customer request. She’s a regular here who always seems to be bouncing off the walls from all the sugar ‘Mr. Geto’ must allow her to indulge in—perhaps he’s a little too giving to these girls. In spite of yourself, you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. They’re among the more tolerable customers you serve, and you’re ever grateful for more civilized manners. The bell dings as they enter, and you return to the cash register with a beaming smile as you dab some sweat off of your forehead with a handkerchief.

“Hello, girls! It’s good to see you again,” you greet, before turning to Geto, ignoring the hairs standing on end as he stares down at you with those haunting violet eyes. “Geto, it’s always good to see you.”

He acknowledges you with a low hum, gesturing to the twins. “I’m sure the girls want their typical orders, isn’t that right?”

“Hmmm…” Nanako, the blonde twin, trails off, tapping her chin as she studies the menu hanging over your head, long and hard. “Mimiko, do you want to try something new?”

Nanako turns to the brunet.

“Sure,” she answers, turning to you, her expressionless face setting off some unease in you, but Mimiko is otherwise nice enough. Just seems a bit standoffish, much like Geto does. “What’s new to the menu?”

“Well, the Biscoff crepes have gotten pretty popular,” you suggest as you’re smiling wide, but you can’t help but feel a little intimidated whenever ‘Mr. Geto’ is in within proximity to you. He has a commanding sort of presence, weighing down on everyone around him. The kind that has people whipping their heads around to see if he’s a real big deal. Not only that, but you notice something else amiss in that piercing stare of his—disdain, perhaps? Or perhaps exasperation over his two lively girls who are so fun to have around?

Whatever the case, it’s not like it’s any of your business. You’re just here to do your job and they’re just trying to go about their day.

It’s not like you have anything to go off of about the guy, anyway. What you know most about him is that he’s a bit of a father to these girls.

It's endearing to watch unfold each time they stop by, though.

There has always been a part of you who wonders what has become of their real parents.

“Biscoff sounds delicious right now. I think you’ll like that one, Geto. Biscoff isn’t all that sweet,” Mimiko now turns to him, tone curious yet still drones in monotone. “I know you don’t like it when Nanako tries to shove any of those sweets into your mouth to get you to like them.”

“I don’t mind it,” he replies through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. You don’t miss his lips twitching in disgust at the prospect. The things he does for these girls, and from what you understand, he’s definitely not the biological father. “I’m just not the one with the sweet tooth. That’s something you both have in common with Satoru.”

The twins exchange a look. That snags your attention. Trouble in paradise for Geto? Is this Satoru person a lover of his or something?

You frown at your own nagging, honestly intrusive questions. Why are you getting so invested in their lives out of nowhere?

Finally the awkward period of silence is broken.

“You keep talking about that guy and you never tell us anything about him,” Nanako pouts, before beaming at you. You return the smile in full force. “But hey! We’ll have the Biscoff ones then! And the usual ones like strawberry, Nutella, ooh….maybe lots and lots of whipped cream with one!”

“Nanako,” Geto chides with a deep scowl. “You’re going to get another terrible stomachache like last time.”

You can’t help but giggle to yourself, ceasing immediately when Geto eyes you curiously. Man, that stare puts the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ to shame.

What a family.

“Quite a handful you have here,” you comment as you ring up the orders. “I’ll have those ready for you along with your usuals. That sound okay?”

“Thank you,” he answers as he whips out his wallet, handing you cash as opposed to card this time. “And yes, believe me—I know. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He smiles down at the twins before patting their heads affectionately. They grin up at him and you’re still smiling yourself at the sight. They do make your day a bit brighter, just seeing them interact with each other.

You feel your heart warming to witness such pure love. You can even go as far as to say it makes standing through terrible customers yelling worth it.

You leave your post for a moment to instruct the chefs what to prep. You ignore the fact that you have picked up on Geto staring through your head; a shiver dances up your spine. That guy is nothing short of terrifying and yet he’s just here to indulge his girls in some of their favorite sweets.

After you present them their orders (and some bonuses on the house, because you just want to be nice), Nanako as per usual samples Geto all of the sweets they ordered before she and Mimiko dig in themselves. He has to admit you’re right—the Biscoff one isn’t as sweet as the other pastries, and he ends up ordering one for himself for once. If not for an excuse for you to swing by their table just to get another good look at you. Mimiko has been raving about your service to them since you started working here, and during one outing, Nanako proposes an interesting (albeit incredibly outrageous) idea.

“Why don’t you ask her out, Geto?” Geto opens his mouth to shut down the idea immediately, but she continues before he can get the chance: “Geto, what are even the chances you get to meet a partner who’s a sorcerer? We understand your position, but we also know you can easily land anyone you want. And we want a Mom!”

Mimiko shakes her head at Nanako’s rambunctious attitude but she is inclined to agree with her.

“And that lady is really nice to us,” Mimiko adds, ever the voice of reason and if she’s siding with Nanako on something? It means it’s something Geto should take a bit more seriously. As much as he loathes the very prospect of entertaining such a foolish plan. “Like sometimes she gives us free samples to try! And pays for our meals! She hasn’t even worked there that long. She seems like an actually nice person and not like the sort of people we encountered back in the sticks.”

“Well, I mean, the folks back in the sticks are pretty simple,” Nanako quips, “She’s from the bigger cities and came from overseas, too, I think. So she’s worldly! So that means she must have a more open mind. Don’t you think so, Geto? I mean, didn’t you come from a family of non-sorcerers? Not all of them were bad, right?”

“My history with my family is complicated,” he remarks, “And not exactly pleasant.” In fact, he can dare admit he was mistreated as poorly as these girls were. “But some family members I suppose aren’t all terrible.”

“So give her a chance, Geto. She’s not a monkey to us!” Nanako begs as her lips curl into that adorable pout. Even Geto can’t ignore that face. “We both really like her. And we don’t like people either! So pretty please, try it for us?”

He can’t refuse their request. No doubt these girls need a mother in their lives. He can’t deny the fact.

While in other circumstances, Geto might scoff at the idea of entertaining the thought of pursuing a non-sorcerer… he has to come to terms with a cold, hard fact: sorcerers as a whole are rare to come by. Nanako’s right. It’s illogical of him to assume that he can pursue a sorcerer partner who can fit the mold of a mother for the twins.

And Manami Suda is out of the question—the twins find her off-putting for a number of reasons, and Geto can’t blame them.

While he doesn’t mind, Suda is more of a kiss your ass kind of woman and lacks true character. Yuki is out of the question, and not just because she’s still affiliated with Jujutsu Tech; if she really wants an answer, she’s simply not his type of woman even if she is a powerful sorcerer. There’s one thing Geto can’t stand more than monkeys and it’s a sorcerer who can’t understand her duty and superiority.

And even he has to agree with Satoru: you have nice assets. You not only are his perfect match (monkey status aside), but the twins are already fond of you. They babble on and on about you. They like how you take an interest in their day, even if that might not mean anything to you. It’s just what you’re trained to do.

No matter the reason, you just appear to be the most logical option out of the limited ones he’s been grappling with since the twins can’t stop bringing up the topic of a mother in their lives. They also don’t fancy the idea of him being lonely, either…

And neither does he. He’s not particularly lonely (what a lie); he and Satoru still meet with each other, and it’s not like Satoru won’t have his fair share of you, either. Geto knows better than to leave him out of his affairs. They have a rule: they share everything. Including lovers.

Satoru does seem keen on knowing more about you, and he’s been kind enough to keep tabs on you for Geto’s sake. It’s all going to fall into place soon enough. Geto doesn’t mind the waiting game; he may have the patience of a saint, but he has the heart and mind of a scheming trickster. It’s why he and Satoru are still a match made in Heaven.

He must tread carefully. He doesn’t want to spook you; no, no, that won’t do.

Watching you shuffle around the café, going about your business as he’s secured in a corner with the girls, without a single care in the world—it’s better than most of those stupid sitcoms the twins force him to sit through and criticize.

Because he’s come to find, everything you do is a work of art, and coming from him, that’s high praise. He doesn’t deliver it so openly, and especially not to a member of a significant chunk to a species he otherwise believes is beneath him…

He’s ripped from his thoughts when he hears the light thud of a mug of piping hot coffee rested on his table. The nutty, aromantic aroma hits his nostrils, calming his nerves. It’s a blend curated by the café itself, unlike any other they claim. It’s all just gimmicky shit they sell to gullible customers, but he doesn’t mind it, if it means getting closer to you.

“You look like you need it,” and lo and behold, it’s you. The woman occupying his thoughts like an illness. You have infested his mind, a swarm of termites burrowing into homes. It’s maddening and yet you are as unsuspecting as ever that you are the cause of his turmoil.

“Thank you,” he grunts in response, moving to pull his wallet out of his back pocket before you stop him.

“We don’t charge for coffee,” you reply with a knowing glint in your eye. “Not to you guys.”

Ah. So you have begun to see him as someone special, huh? Or perhaps you do have a soft spot for the twins. No wonder they like you so much. You make them feel special, loved, cherished—the kind of thing a mother does, being nurturing. Kind.

You absolutely are a perfect specimen; he has to accept that. Sometimes there are exceptions to his forgo all monkeys rule.

“Thank you,” he says again after realizing he’s been staring at you—and notices you shifting in your spot. Discomfort around someone else is never pleasant, and it’s a feeling he knows well considering he has to endure being in the presence of such monkeys all the fucking time. It’s a necessary evil in some cases, like this one, but he’s much better off shoving some of his monkey devotees to keep an eye out. Not only here, but he’s already obtained your address through Satoru. Satoru’s already introduced himself to you—Geto may have overlooked that interaction from the sidelines somewhere—and Satoru knows how to keep himself from being tracked by the higher-ups. Though it’s not like there’s not much the higher-ups can do considering Satoru’s status.

It makes things much easier, indeed. Knowing Satoru is still with him in some cases.

“Right,” you reply, still smiling. It’s practiced. Fake. Appropriate in these environments where it’s a must to perform for customers. He wonders what a genuine smile looks like from you. He’s not even sure if he’s ever seen it before.

You whip around and attend to the few other customers who have populated the café. Since this café closes in an hour or so, there’s not as many. It’s a perfect time for him to investigate you further. He may have implanted some of his curses around this café to keep you in check.

And many other places, like your studio apartment.

It’s good to be thorough in this case.

“Hey Geto.” Ah. His thoughts are interrupted yet again. It’s Mimiko who addresses him. “Isn’t that one of your curses in the kitchen?”

“Yes,” he answers with a nod before resting his chin over intertwined fingers. “You both said you wanted to keep an eye on her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Nanako butts in, swinging her legs in her chair as she takes a fork full of her strawberry crepe. “It’s a good thing! So she’s safe in case anyone gives her trouble, right? She’s nice. She doesn’t deserve it!”

Geto hums, conceding to that statement. Well, not wholly. He still has yet to learn more about you. His eyes trail after you as you refill a customer’s glass of water, overhearing you question whether they want to order anything else. He perks an eyebrow—how can he get her attention? You already do seem to like the girls enough.

“Do you think you like her, Geto?” Nanako asks, her tone full of hope as her beady eyes follow his gaze to you. “She’d look really good with you too! You really are thinking about it after all, huh?”

“Only because it’s something you two desire so much,” he retaliates with a huff. “Otherwise I wouldn’t even bother.”

“We knooooow,” Nanako replies through a fit of giggles. “We’re just glad you’re finally doing something about your lonely love life!”

Geto scowls deep, frustration etching his features as he rubs his temples. Oh how can he have not seen this coming? These girls are always up to no good and not in the way he would have preferred.

“…Is that what this has been about?” he asks through a sigh.

“Nanako,” Mimiko scoffs, fluffing her hair. “He’s going to reconsider…”

“No, he won’t!” Nanako interjects. “Because he doesn’t back off from his promises!”

Well, even he can’t deny she’s right about that.

He doesn’t want to upset them. They’re lucky he’ll do everything for his girls if it means putting a smile on their face—like massacring an entire village who damned them to Hell.

So he’s going to try.

His gaze flits to you, still wandering around the café and treating the few customers here who arrive close to closing time. You look ready to clock out yourself.

Besides, you do seem…

…He’s caught off guard when you nearly lose grip on a tray you’re holding, letting out a breath in relief on your behalf as you catch yourself before anything tragic happens. You let out a sigh in relief as well before handing the order to another customer.

…pleasant.

Accountable. Nurturing. Kind.

Perfect, he dares to add.

“She seems appropriate,” he decides, relaxing his shoulders. “If she warms up to you more, you should ask her to drop by for a visit.”

“Why us? We can’t do the work for you, Geto,” Mimiko points out, ever the voice of reason. “You have to show some interest. Or have you forgotten how dating works?”

“Oh snap,” Nanako mumbles under her breath in a cheeky manner.

Geto shoots a glare at them both.

“I have half a mind to ground you both,” he grumbles as he idly sips on the coffee you have been kind enough to offer him. He averts his gaze to the window. The sun is beginning to set. The hour is drawing to a close soon. Meaning they should not overstay their welcome here.

He glances at his watch. 4:45PM. Yes, it’s time they take their leftovers and leave.

“Hey,” you swing by their table with a grin. Ah, perfect. “Need to go boxes for these?”

“Yes,” Geto answers, offering you a more practiced smile. He’s one to speak of genuineness yet he can’t bring himself to wear a real smile. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, really!” you insist, tilting your head slightly. “Customers like you make my life better.”

As you whip around and saunter off to fetch those to go boxes and bags, he’s staring at you in a state of mild shock. When he finally snaps out of his stupor, his gaze flits back to the girls who have knowing grins on their faces, and he groans.

“That’s enough from both of you,” he chastises and maintains a blank expression as you return with the boxes and bags.

“Here you go! Have a great evening!” You wave before you go off to tell other remaining customers that closing time is nearing.

Geto freezes as he stares at you again. He’s stunned. Not only are you accountable, nurturing, and kind, you’re consistent. He likes that in a person, indeed. Sorcerer or not.

“Geto,” Nanako teases in a singsong voice, gathering the food. “Let’s go. You have some important meeting later, ‘member?”

Realization hits--that's right--and he downs the rest of the coffee because he needs the energy.

“Right,” he grunts, sauntering out of the café with them.

Not before sparing you another curious glance, twisting away when you stare back at him.

What a strange family…

It’s that thought that still lingers in your mind as you unlock the door to your studio apartment and step inside, the click of the lock behind you bringing you a sense of ease. You toe your tennis shoes off and toss your bag onto the couch as you shuffle into the quaint living room. You’re set free from the chaos of the café now and you are always comforted by the silence.

Soon you find yourself sprawled across your bed, sinking into the soft feathery mattress. You gaze up at the ceiling as your mind drifts back to the encounter with those twins at work. You remember their names this time—Nanako and Mimiko. And then you can’t forget a presence like Geto’s—calm, almost detached. You want to call him a fish out of water, but that’s not quite the vibe you get from him. Even so, something about him unsettles you to the very core. There’s something… off with his picture, and you can’t wrap your head around what.

You’re frowning, and you try to shake off the unease settling into your soul. It’s not like you haven’t encountered stranger things in your life. You should see him as just any other customer. Another customer who lives to indulge his twin girls who aren’t even his by blood, but that’s not even any of your business. You just can’t help but find that as endearing as you find him unsettling. Because how rare of a find that is—most men don’t even want to take care of their own kin let alone kids that aren’t their own. It’s not like you actually like him or something.

Right?

Another sigh escapes your lips as your muscles begin to relax. You shut your eyes for a moment. You promise yourself an hour of decompressing, setting a mental timer as you glance at your digital clock.

But even as you attempt to shove the moments with them at the café out of your mind, your thoughts keep bouncing back in full force. You have overheard some of their conversations as you worked your ass off in that last hour. You hear about Nanako teasing Geto about you. You do take notice on how they stay a little longer at the café than most customers do. Most of your customers are in and out, not much of the lounging types. You at times catch him staring—calculating, assessing you. His gaze is just as unsettling as everything else about him. You pull the covers up around yourself, as if to ward off that bad omen.

You try to tell yourself that you must be overthinking it all. He’s probably just thinking about the girls and getting lost in thought just like you do. That’s all. Yet the logic doesn’t quite add up in your mind, nor does it quell the fluttering in your heart.

That hour of decompression feels more like seconds to you as your alarm blares on your phone, which you switch off. It’s time to shift gears and bury yourself in schoolwork. You set a hard limit for 11PM because you need proper rest. You sit up, stretching your arms over your head before you hop out and fetch your bookbag, settling your textbooks and notebooks on your desk. Switching on your lamp. You find some comfort in the routine. It makes you feel like you really are working toward something better for yourself.

You flip through one of your larger textbooks for your heftier readings. Definitely not as bad as you expect—just a chapter or two to burn through. Some written assignments to complete that aren’t due until later in the week. Nothing terrible at all, and certainly nothing you can’t handle.

All you’re taking this semester is two or so classes. That’s the recommended work load for a graduate student anyway. Nothing unmanageable for you at all even with some part time work. Right? You try to keep some kind of balance. You aren’t going to let the work at the café and the coursework bog you down and you have been doing just fine thus far.

You can totally handle this.

As you pull out your laptop to begin typing the first few sentences of one of your assignments, you still can’t shake off the feeling of that unease. Something that you feel like you’re missing—and it of course involves that strange family.

Your mind flashes with the memory of the twins’ giggling faces and the way Geto’s eys follow you around the café.

There’s no way. You shake your head. Don’t entertain the idea.

But why does he even keep coming back? You can’t believe you’re asking that question as your fingers hover over the keyboard. Is it really just for those twin girls?

Why does he keep drifting back into your thoughts? Ever present, nagging. You try to focus on your task at hand. You have deadlines to meet. You can’t allow any room for distractions right now.

You ignore the sudden draft in your room, shivering as goosebumps rise on your arms. Blissfully unaware of the curse spirit latching onto your door, keeping watch.

“You seem really into this girl,” Satoru muses out loud, reclining on the couch with his legs splayed across it as if the world and all its trivial concerns don’t even touch him. His fingers swipe through the pictures he’s taken of you on his smart phone—moments when you were completely unaware of his hypersensitive Six Eyes tracking your every move. The grin on his face is mischievous, the kind that promises trouble’s brewing. “Not like I blame you, though—she’s really hot. And if your girls don’t seem threatened or scared of her, that must mean something, right?”

Geto’s eyes narrow into slits as he observes Satoru from his spot across the room, his arms folded over his chest. He lounges in a wooden rocking chair positioned by the window, where the rays of the setting sun streak across the floor, coating him in a warm, amber light. The soft glow plays on his sharp features, making him appear more and more like a God on his throne. Geto doesn’t answer immediately, allowing the silence hang between them as he contemplates the situation while gazing out in the window.

“Do you think you can handle the idea of another in our lives, Satoru?” the curse user finally asks, tone low. There’s a strange hint of softness to his tone, a contrast to his usual indifference he strives to hold. His fingers tap against the window pane absently, the subtle rhythm betraying the inner workings of his mind.

Never one to hang onto serious conversations, a lazy grin spreads across Satoru’s face, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as his sharp blue eyes lock on Geto’s violet ones.

“Of course I can! What kind of guy do you think I am? I mean, I like her too! She’s definitely our type.” He laughs, though the tone is a little off.

“Not to mention—” He flicks to a picture on his phone, pinching the screen to zoom in before turning it toward Geto. “Just look at those boobs! I bet you’re thinking of suckin’ on them until they're bruised all over, right?”

Geto’s jaw slackens, a faint blush colors his pale complexion.. He shifts in his spot, less from the vulgarity of Satoru’s comment since that’s practically second nature for him, but from the raw truth behind those words. His eyes flit to the image, ignoring the heat rushing to his groin before his gaze flits back to the setting sun outside.

“Satoru…” Geto begins, his tone laden in warning, but there’s no true bite to his words.

“Hey, hey, I’m just saying~!” Satoru teases, his grin ever present as light laughter bubbles up from his chest. He stretches his arms over his head, his shock white hair catching the dying sunlight and making it sparkle like the twinkling stars. His playful tone still lingers, though there’s a hint of curiosity in his words—always a hidden agenda with that guy. They’re alike in that way. “You’ve always been a boob guy, right?”

Geto drags out a long sigh, the drumming of his fingers ceasing for a moment.

“Sure,” he mutters in a snippy tone, more to entertain Satoru’s comment than actually conceding to the fact. Even if it is true, there’s far more to it than that which he’s struggling to accept. The truth is more complicated than it needs to be. You do have perfect assets Geto will gladly take advantage of when the time comes. But you’re more than just a pretty face and a body…a sentiment that unsettles him far more than he ever cares to admit to anyone, least of all to Satoru.

Satoru, still laughing heartedly to the point his shoulders shook with mirth, rests his phone on the arm of the couch as he leans back into it again, draping one arm over the larger back of the couch.

“So why her, anyway?” he asks as his tone softens a bit, that teasing tone melding into one more laden with genuine curiosity and sincerity—a side to him only Geto gets to see. His eyes now flicker with another rare moment of seriousness. “She’s not a sorcerer. Isn’t hating people who aren’t sorcerers your whole thing?”

Geto’s expression hardens. At this point the gentle warmth of the sunset fades, and the shift of the lighting mirrors the shift in his demeanor. His posture stiffens and he doesn’t respond right away, allowing the question to hang in the air as he ponders over what to say. His gaze flits down to his feet, as if in the middle of choosing an appropriate response.

“The girls insist I should find someone,” he replies through a sigh, his voice a bit distant and wistful. His words seem detached from the deeper conflict seeping into his bones like red wine. “And you know as well as me that the odds of me finding a sorcerer as a partner are slim.”

Satoru quirks an eyebrow at that, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He sinks further into the couch, his gaze still fixed on Geto. Geto flashes him a reassuring smile.

“You aside, of course,” he adds.

“Hey, I’m the only option you have,” Satoru interjects with a playful wink, his arrogance bouncing back as quickly as it deflated for a split second—very easy to miss if you don’t know him as well as Geto did. He straightens his posture, counting on his fingers as he tries to remember all of the lady sorcerers he knows well. “Of course, there’s also Utahime and Shoko, but I don’t think that’ll work, all things considered.”

Geto finds himself chuckling at the notion in spite of himself. Even the corners of his lips quirk up ever slightly. What a rare break in his stoic mask.

“No doubt about that,” he concedes with a hum.

Satoru adjusts his posture again, sitting up straighter as those brilliant sky blue eyes of him glimmer with mischief.

“Well, it’s good that you’re opening yourself up to the possibility,” he goes on, as his voice drops to a smoother, predatory tone. His fingers drum against his knees as he assesses the situation. “And I like that I get to have a taste of that ass whenever I want, too!” The grin he sports now is wolfish, devilish more than playful and light. “The lady isn’t nearly as nice to me as she is to you and it’s pissing me off a little. I think I may punish her for that when you finally court her.”

Geto flits his gaze back to Satoru, the amusement in his violet eyes fading entirely.

“Satoru,” he chides, his voice edging toward menacing this time.

But Satoru brushes him off with a laugh, unbothered as ever by Geto’s sudden shift in tone—the fucking brat.

“Chill out, Suguru!” He waves his hand in a dismissive manner before cocking his head, his expression melding into something softer again. “But seriously, though—why her? I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

Geto takes another deep breath, before exhaling slowly as he brushes his fingers through his long, luscious locks that he works so hard to maintain. As his gaze drifts back to the window, it’s not the scenery which holds his attention. Not that he’s even paid much attention to it—the view in Satoru’s penthouse isn’t something he’s not used to at this point. He sees it all the time. It’s you. You infiltrate his thoughts like an ambush. You are so kind to he girls. You don’t appear to even flinch at his presence, not that you know a damn thing about him. He finds you’re tolerable, much unlike the other monkeys running the circus out there.

And that sentiment, too, is unsettling.

“The girls are fond of her,” he admits quietly, it seems that’s reason enough for him. “She’s so warm around them.”

Satoru finds himself nodding along to Geto’s words, shrugging. “Yeah, I guess I get it. She does seem like someone who can help you.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Geto retaliates with a frown. Satoru raises his hand in mock defeat.

“I’m just saying you need someone to help you get some frustration out! That’s all,” he insists, “And other things. You kind of keep shit all bottled up all the time. Even with me!”

Silence stretches over them another time. The sky has faded into twilight. Satoru shuffles around to switch on some of those fancy ambiance lamps he keeps in different corners of the room before moving over to the small bar in another far corner, fetching a bottle of sake and two glasses and returning to the couch.

Geto rises from his seat, waltzing over to join Satoru on the couch as he pours them both some of that expensive sake.

“We’ll make some arrangements soon,” he announces, raising the glass to his lips.

“Just hurry the fuck up, dude,” Satoru mirrors his motion, hiding the smirk tugging at his lips behind his glass. “I’m starting to get real impatient, you know. I’m dying to find out how she might feel squirming on my cock.”

The curse user casts him a sidelong glance, with an unreadable expression. His mind flashes back to you, your smile, your ready hands as you attend to the girls. Sure, you have no idea who—or what—he is or what he is capable of, both he and Satoru. You have no idea that he’s been following you since you began working there for a myriad of reasons beyond mere curiosity. It isn’t just about him this time. The girls desire you as well. Satoru desires you as well.

Geto whacks him on the shoulder with his free hand.

“What?” he snaps, appalled, his sunglasses moving out of place from the sudden blow.

“Don’t be so crass,” he replies as he sips idly on the sake. “Save that for me tonight.”

Satoru snorts in response, wrapping an arm around Geto’s shoulder as he downs his glass of sake in one go.

“Besides,” Geto goes on, placing his half-full glass onto the low table. “You know how things can get when you pick on the weak too much.”

Satoru perks an eyebrow as his lips twitch into another smirk. “Seriously? Since when have you given a damn about that all over again? Then again, you’ve always been a little too righteous.”

Geto doesn’t have a straight answer for that. Something flickers in his gaze—something even Satoru Gojo knows better than to challenge. Geto is a patient, careful man, but he knows there are consequences to things like this. Treading into far more unconventional grounds.

“It’s something we need to ease her into,” he finalizes with a hum.

It’s not often Geto is concerned for the wellbeing of anyone who isn’t a sorcerer. It’s kind of…shocking. Satoru doesn’t know what to make of this change in his friend, however subtle.

“Come on,” Satoru sighs, resting a palm on his forehead. “She can take whatever we give her. She’s probably a lot stronger than she looks. Besides, why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

Geto grumbles, “I’m not so sure how much of ‘us’ she can handle, Satoru.”

“She can handle everything we want her to—no matter what we do to her! Sheesh. Stop worrying so much!” Satoru assures him with a pat on his shoulder. “Come on, Suguru! You’ll make the moves when the time is right. Besides, she’s kind of already ours, right? Not like anyone can interfere when the two strongest sorcerers have someone like her all to themselves, right?”

“Right,” he replies with a smirk. “It’s unlikely anything will interfere.”

Satoru beams. “There he is! There’s the Suguru I know—mphf!”

He’s interrupted with Geto’s lips plunging onto his; Geto’s arms resting on his hips. Satoru melts into the kiss—one thing that hasn’t changed is that Geto will always be his weakness. He will always bend to his will no matter what.

Geto pins Satoru’s body to the couch with his, kissing down his neck. Satoru purrs, rolling his hips into Suguru’s and smirking a bit when the other man hisses.

“Behave,” he chides as his lips slide down to Satoru’s pelvis, where he presses a kiss to the growing bulge there. Satoru inhales sharply, his hands flying down to grip Suguru’s hair.

“Be good,” he chides again with a string of chuckles as he unzips Satoru’s pants with his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whines, tossing his head back as Geto removes his cock, stroking it gingerly as he peppers kisses around the tip.

“We need to make this quick, Satoru, or the girls will wonder where I’ve been.”

With that, he engulfs his cock in one languid motion and Satoru chokes on a gasp, fingers clawing at Geto’s hair.

“Please hurry up and fuck me!” he begs through another whimper, his eyes pleading. The other man can’t help but coo at the pathetic sight. Geto hushes him as he bobs his head, slurping on his length. He takes him entirely; his mouth resting at the base of his cock.

He moves back to the tip, swirling his tongue at the pre leaking from it.

Gojo’s flushed state is absolutely adorable.

At some point Geto yanks Gojo’s pants and boxers entirely off. Such pesky clothes, always making things more difficult than what is necessary.

“The only way you’re coming tonight is if you’re inside me, Satoru,” he growls, grasping the base of his cock as he plants kisses all around it. “I know you can hold it for me, can’t you?”

Gojo manages a nod before another moan escapes his lips. So he’s not the one bottoming tonight then?

Guess Suguru is in one of those moods…just needs to forgo reality for a bit.

Satoru’s eyes clench shut as Geto engulfs his cock entirely again.

This is going to be a long night…

After you finish typing up an assignment, you glance at the clock. It’s only 9PM, so that gives you enough time to spare for a little self-care. You let out a deep sigh as you feel some tension lift from your shoulders, slouching back in your chair.

Student life can get a little lonely. The job at the bakery helps in the sense that you’re around people a little bit more. But you haven’t made much of an effort to make any real connections.

Looks like it’s another solo night with me bouncing on my vibrator or something… you think, glancing at the drawer at your side table.

Shrugging, you slink out of your chair and pad to the restroom, yanking off the robe hanging on the door.

You really hate to admit it, but you can’t logic your way out of desiring companionship yourself.

That’s something for you to cry about in the shower now.

[king-dumbasz]

Hi🫶🏻🫶🏻 could u do a mammon oneshot that takes place after fizz quits.(pretending the twins don’t exist) Like the reader is like the new face of his brand. Ppl start shipping the reader and him online, so he goes along with it for clout and money. But they both eventually end up catching feelings. ( ik it’s rlly specific but I keep thinking about it) also I like ur writing 💜

The internet is a magical place💚

I immediately liked the request and had an idea in mind. It's not something too difficult so my mind was happy Lmao

TW:why do I even put it in if there's never anything to worry about except for swear words, but c'mon, it's Helluva Boss

Mammon x GN! Reader

The news were full of what happened at the last clown pageant. Everything was about Fizzarolli and his relationship with Asmodeus and how Mammon was ridiculed...

Mammon was FURIOUS

He needed a new face, a new someone to put everywhere and make money. He did everything until he finally found it... He found you.

You were perfect! You were funny, good looking and great for the audience! The perfect clown to replace Fizzarolli!

Mammon immediately made plushies, cereal, service bots (you choose what kind of service), hell, even a body pillow of ya!

Phone cases... Halloween costumes for kids... Lamps... Everything!

You became a star!

But like every star, you were a victim of the internet effect of the rule too

For some unknown reason, people shipped you and Mammon

No one knew why, but when you opened your phone, on Envybrl (Tumblr), on Sintter (Twitter or X), there were fanart of you and Mammon

All kind of Fanart! (I know I don't do NSFW, but when I say any kind, I mean any kind)

Mammon saw it too, a lot of it too

"What is that? Wh- why are we hugging in this one?"

He says, pointing at his phone, looking at a fanart of him and you cuddling

"i don't know, sir... The internet scares me"

"Ye..."

Mammon didn't understand why. When Fizzarolli was there no one made these things, but with you it was different

The more Mammon watched, the more he realized how beautiful you looked, and how he liked these fanarts

Mammon started to like every post and imagine these things were true...

Every day, you find a new gift at your door from an unknown person, even if it wasn't that unknown because the wrapping was green black and yellow

One day though, Mammon decides to Rizz you up, because obviously he won't do it normally

"Sir, you wanted me here?"

You said after being called in his office, only to find Mammon in his special valentine outfit (It's just the old one but pink and with hearts)

"Hey, Are you a Wi-Fi signal? Because I’m feeling a strong connection"

That was horrible, adorable, but horrible

"Sir... What?"

"oh, shit uh... Well, I'm out of lines"

"What is happening?"

"Well, I never thought that would've happened, since you're a lower class and shit- but, I found myself liking these fan arts mentally unstable people post of us.."

"Oh!"

You were stunned. Mammon. THE Mammon... Likes you?"

"Well... If I'm gonna be honest... I also found myself liking some of those posts..."

Mammon didn't realise at first and looks at you confused (Idiot)

"I like you too"

Just after you tell him he realises. Mammon smiles widely and hugs you with his four arms, so tightly you couldn't breath

"oh, you're a bloody legend, Y/N!"

"Eh... The internet is really a magical place..."

[aya-luri]

Am I the only one who doesn't associate Zekrom with Ingo and Reshiram with Emmet but do it the other way around? Well, perhaps this will become an unpopular opinion, but, if you stop to think about it there are quite a few points that can support this theory. Let's check them out! To begin with, it's the legendary dragon Zekrom the one who appears on the cover of the White version of the game, while Reshiram does the same on the Black version, which would indicate that they actually represent their opposite color. Such small detail is already important in itself, not just the basic color of the dragons per se. Also we all know that Zekrom's associated element is the electric type, like Emmet's Eeleektros, while Reshiram's is the fire type, like Ingo's Chandelure, both being the most representative pokemons of the Subway Bosses.

Although the issue of ideologies of each dragon is used to link them with each brother among the fandom, "ideals" being the one typically attributed to Ingo for his passionate way of encouraging trainers, while for Emmet it is the "truth" for his direct way of communicating, this could work much better the other way around. If we have learned anything from Ingo on Pokemon Legends Arceus, it is that this man is full of existential doubts that lead him to want to get closer to the player in order to know more about himself. That's it, the truth about his origins. But he already had some tendency to this type of behavior long before, as it was evident in the first Black & White games.

"Where is my destination? I've kept thinking, and I've learned one thing. That is, you cannot know what happens after winning without winning." Through such questions, Ingo seeks to reach a real conclusion, his own truths. And perhaps in our idealized image of him we forget that he can also be frank and direct, without the need to embellish words with lies.

"However, it is difficult to win unless you and your partner are in total sync." On the other hand, and as we have said before, the frankness with which Emmet expresses his opinions makes him look like an open-minded character, sincere, making this seem (for many people) to be his only notable characteristic, despite the fact that it's kinda obvious the way in which he greatly idealizes Pokémon battles.

"This time, I am really serious. Really serious. Because if a battle is not serious, it is not fun." He firmly believes that there is a way to go about Pokémon battles, and that way is by giving it your all in them, and in an ideal world, everyone would have fun battling just as he does, but this is not always the case. Emmet clearly expresses how he believes things should be, and he's also aware that his own victory may not only be due to his skill but also to circumstantial elements or, put another way, luck. So he also idealizes the player's own defeat when it occurs, having enough consideration to make it seem like something unfourtunate. Further proof that the fandom has been associating the wrong dragon with the wrong twin can be found in the legend of the twin heroes, where it was the oldest who pursued the truth, while the youngest pursued the concept of ideals.

This birth order also corresponds to Ingo and Emmet, Ingo being the eldest of the both and Emmet the youngest.

That's why despite being white, I think Reshiram suits to Ingo much better and the same for Emmet regarding the black dragon Zekrom. All of these points put together carry much more sense than simply thinking that each dragon's ideologies relates to a brother just by the main color of his outfit. Although this, in the end, does not have much relevance either, since canonically there is no relationship between these legendary Pokémon and the Subway bosses, other than the simple fact of playing with mere chromatic issues. Still, it's always fun to speculate, right?

[blackbirdi]

Harry Potter Incorrect Quotes #2

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry: So how’d you guys manage to crash the car last night?

Hermione: Ron wasn’t paying attention to the road, and there was a deer. So I shouted, “RON, DEER!”

Ron:

Hermione: Go on. Tell him what you said.

Ron: … “Yes, honey?”

*Cue Harry dying*

———————————

George: *Whispering so they don’t get caught out of bed by Filch* What time is it?

Fred: *Screams loudly*

Snape: WHO THE FUCK IS SCREAMING AT TWO IN THE MORNING!?

Fred: There you go.

———————————

Hermione: *Showing Mr. Weasley how to use muggle technology* There you go. Your laptop is all set up.

Mr. Weasley: Will it get heavier if I put more files in it?

Hermione: What?

Mr. Weasley: Like, if I download files will it weigh more?

Hermione:

———————————

*The girls decorating the Christmas tree*

Hermione: Does anyone know where the angel is?

Ginny: *Pointing at Luna* Found it!

———————————

Mrs. Weasley: When I said bring me something back from Hogwarts I meant something you bought at Hogsmeade.

The Twins: *Struggling to contain a Bludger* Well you didn’t specify that!

———————————

Neville Longbottom: So how’d you know Harry was the one?

Ginny: *Dreamily* He looked at me the way every woman wants to be looked at…

Neville: Awww.

Ginny: With fear in his eyes.

Neville:

Hermione: Awwwww.

———————————

Ron: Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Cause you’re a whole snack.

Hermione: Are you silence? Because you make me speechless.

Ginny: Who do you think is going to make this dirty first?

Harry: Turn this dirty? Neither of them, Gin, they’re too cute for one another.

Ron: Are you my pinky toe? Cause I’m gonna bang you against every piece of furniture I own.

Hermione:

Harry:

Ginny:

Harry: I take back my previous statement.

———————————

*After watching Frosty the Snowman*

Ron: What did Frosty the Snowman do other than come to life, do a little dance, and die?

Harry: Isn’t that what we all do, really?

———————————

Ron: You played me like a fiddle!

Fred: Oh no, Ronniekins. Fiddles are actually very difficult to play.

George: We played you like the cheap kazoo you are.

———————————

Ron: *Walking into the living room to complain* Mum! There’s no more snacks in the kitchen!

Ginny: *From the kitchen* But I’m literally right here!

Ron: *Frustrated groan*

———————————

The Twins: We can assure you, our place of business is extremely safe.

Ron: *Looking up at the ceiling* The smoke detector is a white bowl with a red M&M taped to it…

[ceresun]

going to the yule ball with them

pairings : g. weasley x gn! reader, d. malfoy x gn! reader, n. longbottom x gn! reader

extra : these are some headcanons I posted on one of my old blogs but have been rewritten! I will try and post more because I genuinely do love writing and I want to do more of it this year. If anyone could send in requests though it would be great!

neville longbottom :

when asking you to the yule ball, he’d definitely be quite nervous! part of him actually considers just not asking you at all and hoping some miracle would happen and you’d ask him instead. when he finally does gather up some courage to ask you, he’ll be fidgeting with his robes the whole time. it’s quite cute!

part of him didn’t expect you to say yes, so when you did he let out an audible gasp. honestly, if you hadn’t said yes he would’ve dug up a hole and buried himself alive out of embarrassment. but luckily you accepted!

on the night of the ball, he’d be up in your house’s common room waiting for you to come down from your dorm so you two can walk to the great hall together. but when he sees you he’s honestly quite speechless. he’d comment on how nice your outfit is and is basically all heart eyes from then on. he’s just wondering how he bagged a baddie lolz.

when he finally pulls you onto the dance floor, he’d just be a nervous mess. he’s constantly worrying that he’ll mess up or accidentally step on your feet. luckily he practiced quite a lot, so the chances of this happening are slim.

throughout the night he’d make it his goal to be a gentleman to you all night. there’s this specific scenario of him that i see when ii think of him and his date is that, if you were to wear heels and feel uncomfortable in them after the ball was over, he wouldn’t hesitate to give you his shoes. he doesn’t mind if he has to walk back in only his sock on the cold castle floors as long as it means you’re comfortable </3.

overall, he is quite a gentleman and if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion i would give him a 10/10! :3

george weasley :

out of both of the weasley twins, i’d like to think that fred is a tad bit more outgoing. although fred didn’t exactly do something flashy for when he asked angelina, i’d like to think he would have. so, this sort of leads me to believe that george would go for something not as flashy as something fred would do. i just know that he was up late thinking of ideas ways to come up and ask you, but fred would just be constantly interrupting his train of thought with some outlandish ideas.

in the end, he resorted to just simply going on a hogsmeade trip with you and asking you there. he was definitely blushing quite a bit when asking you and blushed even more when you accepted! he’s just so happy hehe :’3 he tries acting nonchalant about it but it’s a bit obvious.

he’s somewhat embarrassed that he doesn’t have a new suit or anything of the sort, but seeing your outfit kind of just completely made him forget about that. like neville, george also has heart eyes when seeing you for the first time in your outfit. he just thinks you’re so beautiful!

if you’re on the shorter end, it’d be just a tad bit difficult to dance properly with him due to him being quite tall. you guys make it work out in the end though. for someone who’s short, dances like a waltz probably aren’t the best with someone tall like him. freestyle dances are probably the best fit for you two!

if you’re tall and around the same height as him you guys shouldn’t have much of an issue with formal dances like a waltz. freestyle dances would still be fun though! but then again i don’t take george to be much of a dancer.. he says fred took all of the good dancing genes between the two. he’d still try and learn for you though! the whole night would just be spend laughing and having a great time together.

overall, he’s fun to be around and you’d never experience an ounce of boredom with him. if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion i’d give him an 11/10! (biased but whatever)

draco malfoy :

moving onto your guy's clothing, he's actually quite picky with what you two will be wearing at the ball. he is very keen and intent on you two looking good with one another. his family likes to uphold their appearance on occasions like these, so if you’re his date be prepared for his pickiness! it doesn’t exactly matter if you don’t have the money for the probably very expensive outfit he’d pick out for you because he’s the one paying for it.

he wouldn’t be as surprised or taken aback by your appearance on the night of the ball. this being because he had already seen you with it on when trying it on. he still makes sure to compliment you though!

coming from such a well known and wealthy family means he’s probably had to attend many balls and nice events, so he’s had many lessons back at the manor on formal dances. this doesn’t exactly mean he paid attention though.. so he really only knows how to do a waltz. he’s also a bit more shy when freestyle dancing. he says it’s embarrassing but he’s just being silly.

i won’t say that he makes you sit down with him and talk, but then again he doesn’t want to be alone for the night. he’s just not much of a dancer. you two still manage to have fun though! i have a feeling that some of your guys' conversations were just gossip and making fun of others (mainly on draco’s end).

overall, he’s quite picky but still a gentleman nonetheless! if i had to rate him as a yule ball companion, i would give him an 8/10!

© ceresun >ᴗ< -> my works are not to be translated or reposted without permission!

[syndrossi]

Rhaella and Daemon telling the twins that they are going to have a new sibling.

Of course I can't do anything fully happy, but it's still cheerful enough, I hope!

x~x~x

The way her sons’ brows furrowed in determination when preparing to argue for something they knew would meet resistance never failed to make Rhaella smile, because they were perfect mirrors of one another. She knew what would follow, of course. Jon would make his appeal to reason, and Rhaegar would neatly tailor his argument to best complement it—citing precedence, or invoking sentiment.

What made it all the more endearing was that they held the greatest of power in their hands. The mere mention of their childhood in the Vale—a childhood that wrenched her heart to glimpse in moments of great stress or vulnerability—would shatter any resistance their father might think to mount. And yet neither would ever use it.

Not for the fear of his rage, which burned the hottest for those stolen years and occasionally stirred dark memories for her of another rage, fueled by vanity and wounded pride. But rather because they knew their father’s heart and sought to guard it against such pains.

It did mean that they had to employ their arguments more creatively, which is how she found herself listening to their third attempt at persuading Daemon that they should be allowed to ride their young drakes.

Jon was adamant that it would allow them to better defend themselves, to more efficiently plan journeys by dragonflight, and that it was the safest means of travel from one point to the next. Rhaegar meanwhile cited ancient dragon texts that claimed the deepening of bond between rider and dragon was most crucial when it neared drake size. Then, ruthlessly, he pointed out that Daemon’s council business left him with less time for flights with them on Caraxes.

It took Daemon a brief pause to recover from the blow. “Does the prospect of flight on Vermithor not excite you?”

Rhaegar’s gaze shifted to Rhaella, suddenly uncertain, and her stomach fluttered. He knows.

It should not surprise her. He had been present for so many pregnancies, long and short, and all of them bitter in the end. He would know the fear that haunted her. Aerys had not been cruel, at first. But with every failure, both within her womb and without, he had come to resent her. To blame her.

To join the chorus of doubts within her own mind. Had she eaten this, or not eaten that. Had she slept more. Had she endured the maester’s examinations with more grace. Had she managed to drink his vile concoctions—or tossed them out the window.

It had been so difficult to know where the poison lay, the garden or the seed.

Or perhaps she had been cursed at Summerhall itself. Or perhaps all those lives had been spent so that her firstborn could breathe.

“I shall not be riding Vermithor for much longer,” she said gently, and the faint grimace on Daemon’s face told her that he had forgotten that approaching limitation.

Jon regarded her with confusion. “Why? Is he hurt?” His gaze swept her, then flicked to Rhaegar and back. “Are you hurt?”

“I am with child,” she said, forcing her lips into a smile. This body had not devoured its young yet. Perhaps it would be different. “I shall need to be careful for a time.”

“Oh.” Jon blinked, then he smiled at her, the radiant in his elation. “Those are happy tidings.” His hand reached out, then faltered, and his eyes went to hers in question. She nodded, and he gently touched her stomach. “Hello, little sister—or brother.”

She felt the babe within kick, as though in response. “That is the hope.”

Rhaegar’s hand clasped hers. “Whatever you need, you need only tell us.”

She squeezed his hand, and took a breath, commanding the fear away. “I shall need your help in choosing an egg for the cradle.”

Jon’s smile turned sly. “If we were allowed to ride our dragons, we could more easily attend to our mother’s needs.”

His boldness startled a laugh from her, and she felt the babe kick harder. This one is strong. She pressed a palm to the swell of her belly. Out here awaits all the love and joy your heart could desire, little one.