#he knew so early on that there was just no way they would be able to compete with rbr

[starkenobi]

Stupidly in Love | Bucky Barnes x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; avenger!reader; misunderstanding; idiots to lovers; romcom; fluff.

Summary: Y/N agrees to help Bucky win Natasha's heart. No problem, right? Except for the fact that Natasha is her best friend and Bucky is her crush. Where the hell had she gotten herself into?

Y/N didn’t know how she ended up in that situation. Okay, frankly, deep inside she knew. She had dug her own grave. Just didn’t imagine it would be so damn deep. Who’d have imagined that approaching her crush would automatically result in that kind of misfortune? It sounded way too much like those awful teenage movies. But here she was, agreeing to help her crush to go out with her best friend.

Look, in her defense, she panicked. She should have confessed right there, but she chickened out. C'mon, it's Bucky Barnes she's talking about. The famous Winter Soldier, Captain America's best friend and one of the greatest Avenger's spy. Of course, she could hold her ground just fine too, even getting the nickname of Avenger's golden wildcard. But was it enough? Sometimes she didn't think so.

She was doomed.

It all happened so fast. She was in the library studying for her next mission when Bucky appeared in all his glory, approaching with determined steps. And then there was her, with doe eyes, trying to assimilate the whirlwind of words that escaped from Bucky’s lips. She was caught off guard, with her crush before her speaking so passionately... What should she do, say no? Probably, unfortunately, her brain crashed, and fifteen minutes later, she was running toward the shooting range, where she knew her best friend was. But when Y/N came on the range and saw Natasha practicing with some shield agents, she felt completely lost. Y/N could imagine what Natasha's reaction would be, but the broken brain and the heart hammering in her chest made her believe that she should keep to herself.

Of course, the secret didn’t last long. She couldn’t hide anything from Natasha, in fact, she’d never be able to hide what was happening even if she could. Bucky was even closer. He started to dedicate his spare time to her. Y/N thought it was strange, but Bucky never asked about Natasha's preferences and tastes. In fact, they spent their time together talking about her and Natasha's early friendship before the Avengers. Sometimes it was even possible to forget the reason the two became closer. But after a week, Natasha confronted Y/N. Slamming her hands on the table and pushing Y/N's book aside, Natasha stared at her with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell is happening? Are you two together? What are you hiding from me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her heart drop as she stared into her best friend's eyes. But as soon as she understood Natasha's questions, she frowned in utter confusion.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, it’s me! You don’t have to lie to me.”

“But- Wait, is this about me and Bucky? We’re just friend-”

Natasha groaned, cutting her off. “Everyone is commenting on the fact that you two are glued to their hips!”

“What?”

“Don't “what” me. Am I your best friend or not, dude?”

Y/N nipped her lip, averting her eyes from her best friend's intense expression. This is it. Now was the moment that she’d have to confess the real reason Bucky had officialized their friendship, that her long crush was actually into her best friend. That she was utterly fucked up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Y/N, folding her arms and waiting impatiently for an answer. The tension between them was palpable and Y/N, hanging her head low, whispered.

“Bucky asked for my help so he could ask you out.”

After a minute of silence, Y/N looked up confused by the lack of reaction. Only to watch Natasha burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Fuck, that was a good one. For a moment I thought-”

Y/N's voice boomed. “I’m serious!”

Casting an accusatory glance toward Natasha, Y/N got up and disappeared into the hallways before Natasha could follow her. Over the next few weeks, Y/N did what she thought was best: avoid both Natasha and Bucky. But speaking the truth, after her fight with Natasha, her best friend made no effort to look for her either, staying by Clint's side. During the first days after the discussion, Bucky tried in all ways to approach Y/N, but after receiving several cold shoulders, he stopped trying and decided to just watch from afar. She felt like a fool, but at the same time, was completely confused and afraid to have a broken heart. Y/N realized that it wasn’t just a simple crush. She cursed herself, how could she fall in love when the situation was clear enough? Right in front of her fucking salad.

The compound was big, and over the years it became even bigger. But that didn’t stop the story from spreading faster than fire. Everyone was talking about the turmoil between the three greatest spies.

“Wait.” Y/N frowned, interrupting Tony's gossip. “What do you mean by three greatest spies?”

Tony looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “You really don’t know what's happening, do you?”

“What should I know?”

Tony gaped at her. “Dammit, wildcat! What have you been doing in the last two weeks and a half?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

As an excellent observer, Tony chuckled “You’ve been trying to avoid those two so hard that you closed yourself to the rest of the world.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew her friend was right. Slumping her shoulders, she sighed. “I'm an idiot, Tones.”

The thing is, Y/N was so determined to avoid everything, that she didn’t know of the fight during the last mission. More precisely, the fight between Clint and Bucky. And unlike the rumors, yes, Bucky didn’t accept very well all the gossip, but people who were there claim that Clint punched Bucky while howling something about him being a player.

“And if your little head is thinking that Clint was defending Natasha's honor. You're wrong.” Tony said smugly, a huge smile on his lips as he watched Y/N’s reaction closely.

“Oh?”

“It was because of you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What? But we're not even close!”

“So Natasha didn't tell you?”

And once again, after long weeks, Y/N was running toward the shooting range. With red ears and an annoyed look, she marched across the place until she was in the seating area. Clint was the first to notice her presence but not fast enough to stop Y/N from knocking Natasha down. No one knew how to react, watching in silence as Natasha pushed Y/N off, but only to throw a punch against her. They didn’t know why they were fighting, but with all the energy and lack of communication, the others had to step in.

“Enough!”

Clint's order fell into the void, Y/N struggled trying to get away from the other agents.

“You're a hypocrite, Romanoff!” Y/N roared with an accusatory glare.

“So that makes you a chicken!”

Natasha hissed back, but before things got worse, Clint's voice boomed. “I said enough!”

Ten minutes later, Y/N and Natasha were sitting on the avengers’ louge. Clint stared at them with his hands at his waist, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. He didn’t like to see the two best friends fighting over nothing.

“So?” realizing that neither of them would speak, Clint sighed exhausted “Look, Y/N, we’re not close friends but I like you. You're a good person. And that’s why I did what I did.”

“Thanks, but I know there's more than that.”

Natasha grunted displeased, running her hand through her hair before facing Y/N. “We’re together, I mean, Clint and I.”

Y/N scoffed. “Tell me something I haven’t found out through someone else.”

“I didn’t say anything before ‘cause we were just secretly fuck buddies.”

After a few minutes in silence, Y/N broke the tension with a burst of laughter, making Natasha and Clint exchange confused looks. But at the same speed as she began to laugh, in a heartbeat she was serious again and got up from the sofa.

“I can’t believe you said all that shit, when you were the one doing something behind my back!” Y/N hissed, pointing an accusatory finger towards Natasha.

“Well, what did yoy want? You were spending all your free time with him!” Natasha hissed right back, getting up as well but being stopped by Clint's hand on her shoulder.

Hearing the Natasha's words, Y/N’s angry expression quickly softened. “Wait, you're jealous?”

With a pinkish hue to her cheeks, Natasha scoffed. “No? No!”

“Yes, she’s totally jealous.”

Natasha glared at the archer. “Clint!”

“What? I’m tired of this fight.”

So, the power duo was back again. And Y/N started to explain in detail the day Bucky sought her out for help, the free time they spent together talking about everything and at the same time nothing. Clint and Natasha exchanged glances, everything making more sense. In the end, Y/N was completely oblivious and Bucky, and Winter Soldier was a damn coward.

Natasha and Clint decided that they wouldn’t say anything, for the time being, preferring to let Y/N vent and then get some dinner together. But after a few days, Natasha noticed that although things had returned to normal with Y/N, the idiot she calls best friend continued to ward off Bucky like a plague. A little uncertain, Natasha decided to talk with Steve for advice - the Captain was away for a long three months mission. But it didn’t take long to get a response from him, unfortunately, the message contained only two words: ask Sam.

Natasha sighed in defeat as Clint took the phone of her hands to read. Of course, Steve would push the problem (Bucky being stupid) to Sam, he was the best to solve this kind of bullshit (even if he didn’t like to admit it out loud).

Clint returned her phone, stole one of Natasha's toast and took a big bite before teasing his girlfriend. “You're o cute when you're worried.”

“Now isn’t the time to flirt and that’s my toast!”

Clint waved his hand dismissing Natasha. “Whatever, I'm already two steps ahead of you.”

Natasha scoffed. “How so?”

“I talked to Sam yesterday during our recon mission, we already have a plan.” the archer smiled smugly, stealing a sip of Natasha's coffee. “We locked Bucky and Y/N in the old lab on the east wing.”

“You WHAT?”

Y/N didn’t know how she ended up there. Sam invited her to see an old lab he had found that it could become hers, or so she thought. And to say that Sam Wilson could be 100% trustworthy. Now she's stuck in a room... With Bucky. A fucking cliché. And, maybe, a terrible nightmare. The two remained silent, avoiding eye contact and trying to dissociate from the awkwardness. They were embarrassed, but for completely different reasons. The words Sam said before leaving echoed in Y/N's head: If you wanna get out, better start talking. And it seemed that the more she thought about it the harder it seemed to be. Y/N nibbled at her bottom lip, sitting by the window, she could see Bucky's reflection sitting in one of the tables behind her. She wanted to tell everything to Bucky, but she didn’t have the guts. It had been 30 minutes, and Y/N could only imagine the worst scenarios.

She didn’t want to have her heart broken, no matter how much it hurt her to deal with what she felt for Bucky. Natasha was right, she was a chicken. But it wasn’t fair that her friends joined forces to put her in that situation.

“Y/N I need you to stop overthinking for a bit.”

Bucky's voice sounded so smooth, almost a whisper if it weren’t for the quiet room. Y/N looked up and turned slightly to glance at the tables, but instead, she found the super soldier standing closer, a shy smile on his lips.

Having the attention he wanted, Bucky sighed. “Hello.”

“H-hey, I'm sorry for-”

Y/N started nervously, wincing slightly for stammering, but Bucky quickly interrupted her. His voice softer, if that were possible. “That’s fine. Actually, huh, Tony warned me.”

She stared at him with big eyes, feeling her ears warm, she scoffed in disbelief. Sam and Tony were so dead. But none of that made sense. Why would her own friends do something like this? And warn Bucky about it but lie to her?

“You're overthinking again.”

“Why?” Bucky frowned, but Y/N didn’t wait for answers and pressed on. “Why did you agree to their plan?”

Bucky didn’t say anything immediately, deciding to kneel so he could look her better in the eyes. “Isn’t that obvious?”

She replied in a small voice. “No?”

He breathed out "cute" before moving closer and resting one hand on her knee. They were both so nervous, but now they couldn’t back down. Bucky could no longer ignore what he felt, not after knowing Y/N felt the same.

“I fell in love with you.”

She gasped at those words, her lips parted like she wanted to respond and finally gush everything she felt for Bucky. Y/N shook her head trying to form a coherent sentence, but she got distracted by Bucky's huge smile, eyes shining with adoration.

“I know.” Bucky whispered softly, taking Y/N’s face in his hands as if it was the most delicate flower. Then he inclined his head slightly so their lips were close enough that Y/N's warm breath mixed with his. “You can say it later, but I really want to kiss you now.”

Y/N felt as if her heart was going to explode, she nodded her head but quickly pressed her mouth to Bucky’s soft lips. It was better than she had dreamed. And she had dreamed way too many times about kissing Bucky.

The spell was suddenly broken when the door opened abruptly, slamming against the wall. She jumped slightly trying to pull away, but Bucky thought otherwise, deciding to wrap his arms around her waist in a half hug. And when they looked at the intruder, it was none other than Sam.

“That’s enough PDA for today, kids.”

Bucky groaned. “Fuck off.”

”No can do, the others are waiting.” Sam chidded, making no effort to hide his own smile. “Don't wanna be skinned alive by Romanoff, y'know.”

Sam headed toward the door, allowing Bucky to get up off the floor and bring Y/N with him. The two smiled secretly, she took initiative and held Bucky’s hand, wrapping their fingers together as if they've done it for years. Both smiling from ear to ear. Maybe they wanted to do it for so long that it just seemed natural. Bucky kisses her forehead tenderly, walking side by side as if there were no one else in the world. Y/N squeezed Bucky’s hand before finally saying the words with her heart on her sleeve.

“I love you too, in fact, I have for a long while.”

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, I think I noticed.”

“Oh.”

“And sorry for coming with that terrible excuse. I kind of panicked.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky stopped walking, turning on his heel so he could face her. “You're really oblivious, huh? I was going to ask yoy out that day.”

She frowned for a moment, but soon wrapped her arms around Bucky's neck, squeezing him. “I hope you take me on several dates and kiss me a lot.”

Bucky laughed at her teasing, noting her flushed face. “Everything you want, but with one condition.”

Y/N pulled away a little so she could look into Bucky's eyes. “Yeah?”

Bucky gave a peck on her lips before whispering. “Be my girlfriend.”

“Hey, lovebirds, can you leave it for later?”

The couple groaned, yet Sam remained unbothered. Maybe he was right and that was enough hot stuff for the curious eyes. But in the end, they didn't care. So, hand in hand, they entered the lounge. All smiles. Why? Well, they were stupidly in love.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

note: english isn’t my first language, and i don't mind if you call me inbox or dm to point out errors or typos. but please be kind!

[bbokicidal]

where has the time gone? | [SKZ]

genre: angst pairing: skz ot8 x reader warnings: major character death in every scenario <- read at your own discretion

may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.

1 year, 2 months, 14 days.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Chris coos as his hands gently tighten around the bouquet pressed into his chest. There's a soft silence that falls between the two of you and he can't help but smile, knowing it's unavoidable when he's at a loss for words - and he's the only one who can speak. "I brought you these. I remembered they were your favorite," the plastic crinkles under his fingertips, slowly moving to kneel down and hand the bouquet over. The damp grass of the early morning stains his jeans and yet he can't bring himself to care when the feeling is nothing compared to the overwhelming cold of not being able to hold you in his arms. His breathing is stuttered, shaky and warm as it leaves his lips. A hand places gently atop the heavy stone in front of him; Your name engraved with your birth - and death - date. Already over a year ago... "I wish you were here with me."

1 year, 27 days.

Minho's lip curls into his teeth and he bites down. He was grateful your mother let him in here whenever he needed it; Showing up with no warning only to be let in with warm hugs and soft welcomes, whispers that he could stay as long as he wanted. Your childhood bedroom was so... inexplicably you. Books, games, an old television, and lots of old knick knacks like a doll here and there or a blanket now stained with wear and tear. He knows your mother wouldn't mind if he touched things, moved stuff around or maybe even cleaned it up a little. But he wanted to leave it the way it was when you last touched everything. He felt that if he disturbed the peace the room brought him, your spirit would be gone for good. The closest he came was letting his back rest against your bedpost as he sat on the ground and took it all in, eyes swelling with tears. He knew he needed to stop coming here, stop disturbing your family with his presence, but he didn't want to let go.

1 year.

Changbin's hands wrap tight around the balcony railing. The metal was stained with the cold and it bit at his palms and fingertips, gnawing at him to let go. Though truth be told it didn't bother him at all - He was too busy overlooking the city lights surrounding his hotel room. He knew he'd be here a year ago today; But he was supposed to be here with you. On your anniversary together, celebrating and drinking wine, eating chocolates, tangling your limbs together in the bed and enjoying each other's presence in the city of love. But because he was stupid and offered to take you out for drinks later in the evening, a year ago today, you weren't here. The memory of the driver, intoxicated and bleary, ramming into the front of the company car makes his hands tighten around the railing in anger. Who was he to take you from him? What made him hate his life so much that he had to take another's instead? Changbin seethes on the instead, jaw clenched and tears pouring down soft cheeks usually filled with small smiles. He lets out a breath; slow, tired, pissed. But he knows that you would want him to enjoy his time in Paris even if he'd gone with the others because you weren't around anymore - so he'll do his best to relax and have fun while he can. Even if the overwhelming guilt is forever lingering.

10 months, 19 days.

"It hasn't even been a year and you're asking me to get over it." Hyunjin sobs as he pushes his palms into his eyes, fingers curled tight into fists and body wracking with his cries. "I can't just forget about them! I don't know what you - expect from me!" He can feel someone's arms wrap around him from his right and he knows immediately that it's Felix, curling up close to him and pressing his cheek into Hyunjin's shoulder with a frown. He knew Hyunjin was more angry than anything about your passing - knew that he wasn't ready to quit mourning just yet. But he couldn't keep letting it show during interviews, on stage, or during other performances. Hyunjin cried when he realized you weren't backstage to cheer him on at concerts, or had angry outbursts when anyone would talk about you and joke about things you use to say or do because he thought of it as them slandering your name even if it was a simple discussion. He couldn't stand people laughing at the memory of you because what was there to laugh at? You were dead. And with your passing, a part of him that was lighter, giggly and... happy - disappeared as well.

not yet corpses; still, we rot.

8 months, 4 days.

Jisung sits with his head down on the desk, arms thrown over the back of his head and fingers grasping hard at his hoodie sleeves. The song that plays over the studio speakers is one he had produced almost a year ago now; a softer melody, something close to "13" - a song you loved more than any of the songs that came out on their albums. He never told you - he never got the chance to - but he'd been making the song for you. Back then when you'd heard it there were no lyrics - just a sweet instrumental that made you feel like you should be dancing in a ballroom to the music, or like you belonged in a romance movie with the song playing in the background. But now... Now, he'd integrated the words he'd meant to say to you all along.

"If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light. (-Rumi)"

3 months, 5 days, 13 hours.

Felix's head felt heavy. Clouded. Dull. Broken. How long had he been on hiatus, now...? How long would it continue? Was he letting his fans down? Oh, right now he.. truthfully couldn't be bothered to care. As much as he adored them, everyone, he felt like he had to put himself first - even if it meant disappearing from the Earth for a few months so he could grieve the loss of his favorite person in the world. He'd returned home only a few days after it had happened, giving the boys little time to see him before he left for Australia to be away from the scene of the crime. He knew it was a freak accident, knew it never should have happened, but he also knew that if he had been two steps closer, an arm's length away - you might still be with him right now. Everything would be okay. You'd be back in the dorms cuddling or baking together, smacking each other with flour and making a mess so big even Seungmin couldn't fathom it. Or maybe, if he'd been too close to you in that moment, both of you would be gone. He shouldn't be thinking it, but... maybe that would have been better than living in a world without you.

27 days.

Seungmin wasn't sure how to feel. He was one of the group members known for being quiet, minding his own business and being a bit stoic compared to the others. But this behavior was... new. The way his jaw clenched at every mention of your name, or the way his body tensed and his hands curled into fists when he saw pictures of you. He felt an overwhelming frustration each time someone brought you up in conversation, feeling as though speaking about it would make him relive the memory of seeing the moment your body collapsed into nothing. Seungmin hated everyone who spoke about you even if it was in a positive light because he didn't want them to keep bringing you up - every mention of your name made his heart tighten in his chest until it felt like he was suffocating. And it pained him even more that people thought he wasn't grieving. Because he wasn't openly crying in public or speaking about you to the masses of media. He saw the way people spoke about him online, calling him a liar, a fake; Saying his love for you was never real. So in dealing with all of his emotions, Seungmin went home every night and laid in his bed, face buried down into his pillow. He let it build up, let the tears finally flow from his eyes, and screamed into the memory foam so loud that Felix could hear it from the next room over while gaming. He'd sob into the pillow until his throat was raw, curling up around himself and pulling his blanket over his head. People were talking about you, and now about him, too. And he didn't know how to handle it.

16 hours.

Jeongin sat in silence, but his head screamed every fews seconds for him to do something. There, on the couch in his dorm, Jeongin sat stiff with his hands digging into his knees as Chan sat nearby - rubbing gently over his back and quietly talking about how they could make arrangements, celebrate your life even if you were gone; But Jeongin heard none of it. His ears were ringing; a constant, nonstop screech that pained him to sit through, all while his thoughts were whirling around in his head like a raging dust storm that clouded all other thoughts of peace and contentedness. Get up. Go to them. Go to the hospital. Go identify them even if it's not your place. Get up. Go to the hospital. Get up. Get up. Go to them. Go to them. Go. Anywhere. Away. Go away. Go away.

He choked, and Chan stopped talking. He watched as Jeongin's eyes finally welled with tears. It was one of the only times Chan had seen Jeongin so emotional with tears pooling down his face in heavy streams of grief, his chest jerking with every breath until he was breaking down in his Hyung's arms and allowing himself to be held. Even if he went to you, you wouldn't be there. You wouldn't be smiling at him, greeting him with sparkling eyes. He would never see you again. He would never hear your voice again. And how was he supposed to live with that?

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[whatifitis]

♡ i wish you would've stayed - LN 4 ♡

Summary: you and lando had a fling and things end but did he lie? he found someone new when he said he wasn't ready.

WC: 2636

CW: angst, very small mention of weight loss, overuse of song lyrics, use of quotes i found on tiktok

How can it be that everytime someone says they aren’t ready for a relationship with you, they always end up ready for the girl after? 

You and Lando had been friends for a couple of months before you ended up developing feelings for him. Like, who wouldn’t fall for him? He’s funny, cute, and charming. You guys would talk for hours on end. Everytime you two would find something in common, it felt like the invisible string between the two of you was real. Maybe all these things were signs that you had finally met your person. 

When you were able to talk to him, it felt like everything was okay. When it felt like no one wanted you around, he did. It didn’t matter if you just had a hellish day or not, he was always able to bring you back to joy and contentness in a second. He showed you how it felt to be loved, for the first time in your life. 

When you’d confessed to him about your feelings for him, he’d said he liked you as well. You remember nearly bursting into tears as giddiness swirled in your chest. This was the first time your feelings had been well received, and it was someone who you had really grown fond of. He didn’t want to be anything yet so as to not feel pressured so early in this relationship and you understood, you were fine with it. The two of you often joked about what to call your situation as neither of you liked the term ‘situationship’ and ‘casual’ definitely wasn’t it. It was just two people who really liked each other and wanted to see how things went.

Everyday, the two of you spoke for hours at a time and it was fun. You’d shared music with each other and you’d actually grown to enjoy music from his favorite artist. When you asked him to make a playlist of all his favorite songs by the artist, he was genuinely so excited and got to work instantly. You loved seeing him so happy and you’re glad it was because of you, selfishly so. When he’d sent you the playlist, he’d named it one of the verses from a song that you had sort of dedicated to him. You really fell hard for him. 

Even though it had just been a month or so, you were excited to picture a life with him. The two of you had even planned out your future home together. The colors of the walls of every room had already been picked out and it was the happiest you had been in a long time. 

“We’re gonna have a house by the beach, yeah? And we’re gonna have a dog that’s practically our baby. And we’re gonna name it ‘Lando’.”

“Lan, why are we naming it after you?” you softly laughed. 

“Well, when I was a kid, my family had gotten a dog and it was my job to name it. As the uncreative child I was, I named it after the best thing ever. Myself.” he smiled cheekily.

“No way. Oh my god.” you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hold on. I’m not done painting the scene.”

“Alright, apologies, my love. Please continue.” 

“So our dog, Lando, will lie in the sheets with us. The sun will always shine and there will be a ring on your hand. On your ring finger specifically. And I’ll hold you every night.”

But he lied. He made a promise he could never keep. He tried and tried until he couldn’t. 

As time went by, his texts began to slow down. But you weren’t upset. When the two of you began this whirlwind of a relationship, he’d mentioned how with work and his mental health, he’d often go days without having the energy to talk to anyone. You understood, you’d been there before, you told him as long as he would talk to you whenever he was able, that you were going to be okay. And you were. Your days would go by where you wouldn’t get a text from him and it was okay. You were productive during the days and while you did miss him, you knew his struggles and you let him be with the occasional messages to check on him. 

Then one Thursday in the fall, your world came crashing down. You sort of knew it was coming. There were signs that you chose to ignore, hoping it wasn’t true. But then you got the text “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” You really tried to understand. He said he felt guilty for dragging you along and that he didn’t want to keep doing it to you. He said he was tired and he wasn’t able to maintain a relationship of any sort. So you said ok. That was the last time the two of you spoke. 

For weeks, you cried over this loss. It wasn’t just about essentially getting dumped. To you, he was your best friend and you lost him. That was the worst part. Not the fact that you didn’t have anyone to love anymore. Not that he just up and left. It was the fact that he was your friend before everything and you don’t have any part of him now. 

You knew you had some fault in the ending though. You’d said things that weren’t the right things to say at the time. You had messed up often. You just wish you could take those back though. You wish you could’ve said something different. Then maybe he’d still be yours. 

You told your friends what happened and it’s safe to say they all dislike him now. After everything, they started stating their opinions and talked shit about him but it didn’t help. You didn’t hate him, although you should have. You wished you could hate him and be angry, but you’re not. You’re just sad. 

Everything reminds you of him. Every song is about him. Every poem is about him. Every book is about him. The blue in the water is him. The sun shining through your window is him. His face is everywhere. His voice is everywhere. His laugh is everywhere. The laugh you thought you would get to listen to for forever, is now a stranger. 

You would find yourself still imagining things with him after the end of everything. You’d think of him in the stupidest things. You’d think of him while in the shower, how it’d be nice to have your things with his sitting along the edge of the tub. You would even imagine running out of soap so you would end up using his. You would go to work and the store wearing it. Only when in the night, when you would lay next to him in bed, would you smell where all your missing soap had gone. 

It was those stupid little things that made the healing process so much harder. 

He forgot you overnight. Meanwhile you lost your head and appetite. You ate a lot like a fly. Your anxiety had also gotten worse, making your heart race every second of the day. You thought of giving up everything. It was a dramatic thing to consider considering you couldn’t even classify what happened as a breakup, as he was never yours. 

After some time, the tears stopped. The heartbreak didn’t, but you were able to continue with your life and get through some days. Every so often, you still check on him through social media, just to make sure he’s okay. Of course, that came back to bite you in the ass when you found out he was talking to someone. 

The day you found it, your heart dropped and it felt like that Thursday all over again. All that healing had gone out the window because now everything feels like a lie. Was he making fun of you with some esoteric joke? 

He said he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he couldn’t maintain any relationship. He said he cared about you. You believed it. You were stupid to believe it. A fool for thinking any of it was real. The house, the songs, every little thing was a lie. All you ever thought about was there the hell he was and if he was okay but he didn’t give two shits about you. There was never a you and him. And there never would be. 

You go back and forth between being angry and sad. You can’t tell if you’re making everything up in your head whether it was your relationship with him or the events after. 

Every page you wrote, he was on it. Every word you wish you could say to him. 

After letting you sulk for a few months, your friends dragged you out of the house so you could all go to a club and just have fun. There was no pressure to meet someone or walk away with someone. They said that all you owed them was to show up and have fun. So you went. 

The night was beautiful at first. After pregaming a bit, you ordered yourself a drink at the club and just let loose with your girls. Dancing the night away and not caring about tomorrow. All that mattered was right now. 

You could feel arms moving around you, your heart beating to the music, the alcohol working its magic through your system. You were glad to be there with your favorite people, when everything felt like it was falling away, you still had them. 

It was truly an amazing night until there were whispers spread across the room. Lando was there, with his new girl. The two walked hand in hand towards the back corner of the club with their group. 

What the fuck was he doing here? He could be anywhere in the world, why is he here? 

You didn’t know what to do. For the longest time, you’d imagined what you would do if you were to be in the same room as him again. You composed a hundred ways to tell him the reasons why you could’ve played for keeps, all of which would sit collecting dust, rotting in your house. 

You watched as they settled into the rhythm of the club, when Lando looked straight at you. He looked different. He looked lighter. 

Your friends caught this moment and immediately grabbed you and tried to get you to ignore them. They wanted you to show Lando that you’re better off without him, that you’re okay. So you tried. You tried to keep dancing, to keep your heavy feet moving, to act as if your heart wasn’t being dragged through you. 

You needed a minute. Telling one of your friends you were going to the restroom, you pushed through the crowd. Squeezing through a mess of entangled, sweaty bodies. You kept pushing until you found yourself on a balcony, trying to catch your breath. You moved to a more secluded spot so you could try and recuperate. 

Resting your arms on the railings, you lowered your head to try and figure out what to do. Did you want to confront him, ask for closure? Or did you just want to let it go and try to be free? 

You were caught up in your head when you heard someone clearing their throat somewhere behind you. Looking up, you were met with those hazel green eyes that you had fallen for all those months ago. 

“Hey,” Lando started “didn’t know you were here. Small world, eh?”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

“Come on. Why you being short with me?”

“Nothing. So, uh. Who’s the girl?”

“Oh, yeah. Hannah is my girlfriend. She’s pretty great.”

“Good for you. I’m glad you found someone who can love you the way you deserve. We all need someone to hold and now you found your person.” “Thanks. She helps me a lot and she knows how it feels to be alone in the rain. I guess I just needed someone to stay.” he shrugged, smiling at you. He wasn’t trying to be malicious, he was just happy that he’d found his love.

I stayed. 

“She seems great. I’m happy for you.”

Please, keep me close. 

“Yeah. You’ll find someone too. I’m sure you will.” Couldn’t you love me most?

“Yeah. Sure.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, savoring the silence for different reasons. You knew this was gonna be the end of your story with him. This was going to be the last time you would see him. He thought it was great that everything could remain civil. 

“Well, I gotta go back in.” he said, pointing behind him towards the dance floor, “I’ll see you around. Take care.”

“You too!” you shouted back before he disappeared into the blinking lights and mess of music. 

At the end of the day, you’re hopeless. He found someone better. He found someone to love. Someone to love him. 

So here you sit in the bedroom of your apartment, just missing him and wishing things were different. And you can wish all that you want, but it won’t bring you two together. No matter the things he said or did, you still loved him. 

After all this time, you would still bend back to him if he left the door open. All he had to do was say the words, and you’d play again. But who were you to ask for more? You were just a little chapter in his story while he was more to you. 

If he needed someone, he could’ve picked you. You would’ve given him everything. All he had to do was ask. And you know that can’t solve everything. You just wish he chose you. For once, you wish you had been chosen. You wish he had chosen to love you. You wish he chose you even if it was just to toy with you for longer. 

You still can’t hate him. You honestly wish the best for him. You want him to be happy, even if it means it’s not with you. You want him to have the life he’s dreamed of, with the walls of his house painted blue, red and pink. You hope he gets to go to the city his favorite artist was born in and have a drink at the bar they used to perform at. You hope he’s okay. 

You now know, you’re just not that girl. It was your own fault for not being good enough. She won him, the girl with the gold hair. That’s the girl he chose. So one day, when he walks down the aisle to complete his great love story, you hope he remembers that you’re glad to see him win. You can’t claim to be on the side of love if you can’t even support it in someone you love. It’s not fair to him. 

Your birthday falls on the 29th night of December and you stand in the middle of your kitchen surrounded by your family who say they love you. A birthday cake sits in front of you, coffee flavored, a flavor you never liked. Everyone sings you a happy birthday as you stand there, not letting the tears fall from your face. No one can see the ache in your heart and the way it feels like it’s being dragged down your body. So you just smile. 

You close your eyes to make a wish, but no wish appears as you blow out the candles, just the thought ‘Only three more days left living in a year where you loved me. Only a few more days left in a year where I've allowed myself to love you knowing you don’t’.

Wishing only wounds the heart, after all.

[alisonsfics]

knight in shining armor

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: you knew carmy would do anything for you in theory. when your abusive ex-boyfriend shows up at the bear, you learn carmy has zero hesitations when it comes to protecting you.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of abusive ex, violence (very minor and not graphic)

“God, I cannot wait to finally go home.” You groaned to Sydney as you cleaned down your station for the night. It had been an especially rough night at the Bear. “Tell me about it,” she responded, laughing to herself.

Carmy walked by the two of you, catching your attention. “I mean, nevermind, I love it here so much. Please, don’t fire me.” You teased sarcastically, glancing over at Carmy.

His lips curved upwards. He tried to hide the way that your sense of humor always brought a smile to his face. But he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was.

“Don’t worry. This place couldn’t run without you.” Carmy joked. Sydney glanced between the both of you, noticing the pink tint on Carmy’s cheeks. She had to fight the urge to tell you both to get a room.

“Hey guys, Fak left early. Can one of you guys run this check out to table 13?” Richie called out. You quickly nodded and set down your towel. “Sure, Richie. I can do it.” You volunteered, taking it out of Richie’s hand.

You walked out to the one table with guests left: three men sitting in a corner booth. You heard them all deeply chuckling, fully focused on their conversation.

“Thank you for dining with us tonight. I just wanted to drop this off—” you started to say but froze when your eyes landed on one of the men.

It was your ex-boyfriend Anthony, well not just your ex-boyfriend, your abusive ex-boyfriend.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. His cold dark eyes stared back at you, leaving you with a sense of powerlessness.

The check fell out of your hands and clattered onto the table, hitting the silverware. Your only instinct was to run to safety.

Carmy was your safety. He was the only one you’d ever told about Anthony. He was the only thought in your head. You spun on your heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

You felt like the room was spinning around you. Your hands started shaking. You felt unsteady on your feet, like the ground could be ripped out from under you at any moment.

You stumbled into the kitchen, your anxiety clouding the noise in the room. You saw Carmy and Sydney having a conversation and laughing, but you couldn’t hear any of the words, only mumbles.

You ran to Carmy’s side. He turned to face you with a smile, about to explain whatever he and Sydney were talking about, but he noticed the panic in your eyes.

You breathlessly mumbled the word “Anthony,” hoping it was enough to jog his memory. Carmy furrowed his eyebrows at you, wondering if he’d misheard you.

It’d been years since you told Carmy about Anthony, so the name was far back in his memory.

The kitchen doors slammed open, smacking against the walls. Pots clattered onto the floor, falling off a shelf near the door. You jumped backwards, your heart starting to race.

Anthony stomped into the kitchen, and you could see the recognition in Carmy’s eyes.

Carmy grabbed your wrist and tugged you behind him. You cowered behind Carmy, not able to look at Anthony.

“Get the fuck out of here. I want you out of my fucking restaurant, you piece of shit.” Carmy yelled, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door.

Sydney walked up next to Carmy, confused by all the chaos. “Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Sydney asked, looking at Carmy for an answer. Sydney’s gaze bounced between the rugged man standing in the doorway and Carmy’s death grip on your hand.

The pit in your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole. You kept your eyes focused on the floor, trying to convince yourself it was just a nightmare.

“Get this fuckhead out of here. Nobody lets him in ever again, you hear me? Where the fuck is Richie? Richie?!?” Carmy yelled, as the majority of the staff came walking into the kitchen from the locker room.

The silence of the room rang in your ears. Marcus jogged up next to you and Carmy. He’d immediately recognized the panic in your face and rushed to help.

Anthony lurched forward, attempting to grab your hand away from Carmy.

Carmy used his free hand to slap him away. “You don’t get to fucking touch her. You will leave her the fuck alone.” Carmy screamed. His face was bright red, his jaw clenched. Carmy was a fiercely loyal guy, but it was to an even higher degree when it was you.

It was only then that Anthony spoke. His words ran through your chest, making all your muscles feel tight. “You really have this little fucker whipped for you. Little manipulative bitch at it again.” Anthony yelled. His words seemed to hang in the air.

You got up the courage to look over Carmy’s shoulder, and you saw Anthony staring back at you.

Then, he turned his attention to Carmy. “Hey, short stuff, unless you’re her little boyfriend, I suggest you stay out of this conversation. It’s frankly none of your business.” He spoke, and Carmy’s grip on your wrist tightened.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go talk.” Anthony said, holding his hand out to you.

Carmy moved his hand to the small of your back and nudged you to stand behind Sydney. She wrapped her arm around your back, holding you close to her as Carmy stepped towards Anthony.

“Listen up, you bastard. She’s not going anywhere with you, and if I ever see you within a block of my restaurant again, I’ll kick your ass.” Carmy threatened.

You realized what he was doing. He was doing everything in his power to keep Anthony’s attention off of you.

It didn’t work. Anthony ignored Carmy and continued staring at you. “You got yourself a little boy toy here? He acts like your fucking protector and savior, and in return, what? You let him fuck you every now and then? Trust me, dickhead, the sex isn’t that good. You can find better. Nobody needs a little slut like her.” Anthony scoffed down at Carmy.

Anthony smirked, when he saw Carmy clench his jaw.

Before you could even process what Anthony said, Carmy punched him in the face, and Anthony fell back against the wall.

Richie finally emerged from the back door after Tina had gone to get him. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” Richie said, pulling the gun out of his waistband before Anthony could jump towards Carmy.

Richie wouldn’t use it, but Anthony didn’t know that.

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” Carmy snapped as Anthony ran towards the front door and his friends ran after him.

Carmy spun on his heel and pulled you into his arms. He cradled your body, comfortingly running his hands up and down your back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s gone.” He whispered in your ear.

The room was silent as everyone processed what’d just happened.

“Richie, can you give us a ride back to my place? She can stay on my couch tonight.” Carmy asked softly.

Richie quickly nodded and grabbed his car keys as you both followed him to the car.

Carmy sat in the backseat with you, keeping your hand tightly in his. He was the best friend you’d ever had. He cared about you more than he could explain, which was partially due to his unconfessed feelings.

You didn’t utter a single word on the drive to Carmy’s apartment. Carmy quickly thanked Richie for the ride as he brought you upstairs. He was very aware of the glossy look in your eyes. He recognized and understood the trauma response better than anyone.

He held the front door open for you, keeping his hand protectively on the small of your back. “You want me to start the shower for you?” He asked you softly. You gave him a weak nod and followed him through his bedroom.

You waited silently as he set out a towel and everything you needed. “I’ll order some dinner while you take a shower, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You stayed in the shower extra long, letting the hot water run over you. You’d felt grimy since Anthony looked at you, so you hoped you could wash off the feeling.

You finally got out of the shower and dried yourself. You slipped your bra and underwear back on and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You don’t know what about it set you off. Maybe it was the defeated look in your eyes staring back at you. You felt like you were in the past again. You’d spent so many hours staring in the mirror at bruises Anthony had left on you. All the memories you’d forced into a box were spilling out.

You sunk down to the floor, cradling your legs in your chest. The tears poured out of you, and your whole body shook.

Carmy glanced down at his phone, realizing it’d been a while since he heard the water turn off. He cautiously walked over to the bathroom and softly hit his knuckles against the wooden door. “You doing okay?” He mumbled through the door.

You tried to respond but no words would come out. Your muscles stayed rigid, no matter how much you wanted to stand and open the door.

Carmy opened the door a crack, making sure you were okay.

He saw you curled up on the floor with splotchy cheeks and watery eyes. He felt his heart break. He quickly rushed towards you and picked you up bridal style off the ground.

You normally would have been self-conscious of Carmy seeing you in your underwear, but you were so detached that you almost didn’t notice.

Carmy’s eyes didn’t linger anywhere that wasn’t your eyes. He set you down on the side of his bed, and then quickly grabbed some clothes out of his dresser.

He lifted your hands up in the air and slipped one of his sweatshirts over your head. He grabbed the matching pair of sweatpants and slid your feet through the leg holes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he helped you stand, so he could pull the sweatpants up to your waist and tie the strings.

You stayed completely still, still clinging to him. He wrapped his arms protectively around your waist. “You hungry?” He whispered. You simply shook your head.

“C’mere,” he said, guiding to his bed where he pulled back the covers for you to climb in. He crawled in to sit next to you. He turned on the tv and put on one of your comfort shows.

You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. He smiled down at you, running his fingers through your hair.

He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say to fix this.

“Carmy?” You said, your voice coming out weak and fragile.

“Yeah, honey? What’s wrong?” He asked. He’d never called you a pet name before, but it just slipped out. “What if he comes back?” You croaked, your voice cracking.

He pressed a kiss against your temple. “He won’t come back, but if he did, I would keep you safe again. I promise, okay?” He assured you. He waited for you to respond and saw you fighting back tears.

“You risked your life for me. I don’t know how to thank you.” You mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

He quickly shook his head, dismissing it. “You don’t need to thank me. I'd do anything for you.” He said.

Carmy was in disbelief that he’d actually been able to admit that after all these years. You paused and looked up at him, picking your head up off his shoulder.

You softly placed your hand on his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes glanced down at your lips.

You were worried he’d hear how fast your heart was beating as you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. He kissed you back gently, with a delicateness you’d never seen from him.

He rested his hand on your hip. You felt weightless when his lips were on yours.

You both pulled away slowly. You searched his eyes for any sign of regret. All you saw was the giant smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

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[yoonjae20]

5 Times people outside of the immediate Batfamily find out that B is married and the one time the world meets his husband [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

Surprise, surprise! Due to immense positive reaction to the last Spirit Halloween Oneshot, I wrote another Oneshot interconnecting with the previous one. As you can see per the title it's a 5+1 Oneshot! Inspired by PaperPuffin's "Batman's Husband" over on ao3.

Read on ao3.

Previous.

1.

Barbara stretches her arms above her head and winces at the pop her joints make. It’s well into the early hours of the next day and it has been a long night – there had been an Arkham outbreak which needed all hands on the deck. After 5 stressful hours every Rogue was captured and back behind bars – all that remained were the reports they needed to fill out.

“I’ll head off for the night, I want to get at least a little bit of sleep before I have to go open the library,” Barbara announces over the comm.

“Thank you for your help today, Oracle,” Bruce grunts and Barbara is about to put down her headset when she hears paper getting shuffled around before the distinct sound of ceramic being settled down echoes through the comm.

“Thank you dear,” Bruce’s voice is surprisingly soft and Barbara wonders who brought the man tea – Cass perhaps? There’s some incomprehensible murmurs before Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I’ll probably be done in about 20 minutes or so – just need to finish this report. You can go ahead to bed – I’ll follow you in a bit.” Some more unclear mumbles, but distinctly male before Bruce snorts. Then there is the distinct sound of lips meeting each other. “Good Night, I love you.”

Barbara feels like she intruded on a very intimate moment and she quickly logs out of the comm system before she bursts the bubble Bruce seems to have settled in. 

She places her headset next to her keyboard before rolling backwards and only then she lets out the squeal she had been holding in. Since when has B been in a committed relationship? She’s so gonna milk Cass for the details – she needs to know everything. 

2.

“Where’s Bruce?” Steph asks as she meets the rest of the Batfamily in the manor for movie night.

Normally the man never skipped out on those unless on an out of world mission.

“On a date,” Tim says absentmindedly as he scrolls through their selection.

Steph’s face scrunches up.

“As in Brucie?”

Jason snorts.

“Actually no,” he says. “Do you remember Bruce’s ring?”

“Yes?” Steph answers, uncertain where Jason is going with this.

“Yeah, apparently he’s married.”

“Wait, what?” Steph doesn’t believe her ears. Bruce Wayne? As in - brooding, stoic Bruce Wayne, who goes out at night in a Furry Costume to fight crime? “For how long?”

Jason turns to Tim who startles with all the attention on him. 

“26 years,” Tim states and Steph almost chokes on her spit. 

“No way.” Steph shakes her head. “That would mean he’s been married since well before like either of us all knew him!”

“Believe me, we were also quite shocked,” Jason mutters, before adding something under his breath. “Should have known that even his taste in men is quite peculiar.” 

Tim starts their movie, but Steph can’t focus for a single second. What the hell is ‘peculiar’ supposed to mean? 

3.

Lois opens the door to see Bruce standing before it – along with a gift bag where a bottle of champagne is peeking out of it.

“Bruce!” Lois greets him warmly. “I’m glad you were able to make it!”

The man grunts before handing her the gift bag and following her into the house.

“Clark is doing a little errand, but he’ll be here soon enough.”

Bruce just nods and Lois settles down the gift bag on her kitchen counter, pulling the champagne bottle out. Her and Clark are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary and the latter had wanted to invite Bruce to a simple, quiet dinner in their house in Smallville. 

“Where are the boys?” the man questions when he sees that their table is only set for three people.

“Jon said he had a hang-over with Damian and Kon is on a mission with the Teen Titans.”

Bruce hums and soon Clark arrives back from his errand and they sit down at the dinner table.

In the middle of the meal, Clark opens the Champagne bottle with a loud pop before filling three glasses. Clark raises his own glass as he clears his throat.

“To another 15 years!”

Lois echoes the sentiment while Bruce nods stoically. 

Their glasses clink as they toast to each other and then they finish their meal. Bruce still sips on his first glass of champagne when Clark broaches the topic.

“This would have been even better if you also had someone at your side, Bruce,” the man says. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow and Clark coughs at the man’s deadpan expression.

“Just imagine if we could have celebrated your 15th anniversary too!” the man tries to save the conversation and Lois snorts at her husband fumbling. 

“What Clark wants to say is that we wish for your happiness and that we sometimes wonder if a partner would achieve that,” Lois helps out and Clark shoots her a relieved smile. “We've never really seen you date anyone – and those headlines about ‘Brucie Wayne’ don’t count, you know?”

“That might be because my 27th wedding anniversary is coming up,” Bruce says as if he is talking about the weather.

Clark sputters while Lois’ eyes widen. 

Bruce raises his right hand and Lois’ eyes focus on the ring on his ring finger – it only now really registering for Lois. It had almost become invisible over the years. Bruce’s lips twitch into a faint smirk.

“Or do you guys think of this as decoration?”

Lois' eyes twinkle as she suddenly pulls out her notepad. 

“Tell me everything.”

4.

A knock on his window makes Jim pause in his reading. The world outside is dark and Jim groans when he sees the time displayed in the corner of his screen. 03:57 am. He had been supposed to be home more than a few hours ago to eat dinner with his daughter.

His joints creak when he stands up from his seat — walking over to the window. He’s not surprised to find a looming shadow lingering behind it — quickly letting Batman in.

The man enters, landing softly and without a sound before he hands him a file. Jim purses through it — quickly recognizing it to be one of his recent murder cases.

“Red Robin made a breakthrough,” Batman explains gruffly. “He wanted you to receive this as quickly as possible.”

Jim nods before settling the file on his desk, before sinking back into his chair.

“I hope you are not planning on going back on patrol.” Jim rubs his tired eyes as he shuts down his computer. “While you may be a Cryptid, even you need your sleep.”

Batman’s soft snort surprises James.

“Actually I wasn’t,” the man claims. “My partner was very adamant about the fact that I would deliver this file and then go straight back to the Cave no matter what happens.”

Jim pauses. ‘My partner.’ The way the Batman had said it so casually surprises Jim. 

He barks out a laugh.

“Good that there’s someone other than Agent A looking out for you then,” he teases as he watches the computer turn black. “You need it.”

Batman huffs out a breath and that’s as good as a laugh for the man than anything. 

“Update me on the case,” the man says in lieu of a goodbye before disappearing out of the room with a swish of his cape.

Jim leans back in his seat, snorting. He never expected anyone to tame the Dark Knight — but apparently even the impossible is possible. 

5: Wayne Enterprises staff 

The Board Meeting dragged on. It was one of those rare times that Bruce actually attended them - normally he left those to Tim, but the boy hadn’t had time this time.

Once again Lucius applauds Bruce’s ability to stay patient even when Tiffany from HR drones on about unnecessary gossip — only smiling politely and nodding once here and then. 

They had gone over the new developments and their future goals already and were well into their allotted one hour time slot. Most of them knew by now that these meetings often overrun and could go well up to two hours if no one (most of the time either Tim or his assistant) cut it short.

Normally Bruce is well versed in being the picture perfect CEO - kind and never once complaining. However this time Lucius notices the man glancing at both the clock opposite to him and his watch that he is wearing multiple times as they near the one hour mark. Lucius can even hear the man audibly grit his teeth and his left eye twitching once Tiffany goes on another tirade.

It’s 10 minutes past their allotted time slot that Bruce seems to have enough — he cuts off Tiffany's rant about one of their engineers with a firm, “Well if that’s everything — I have to get going. My partner and I are celebrating our anniversary.”

Then he promptly leaves the room after dropping that bombshell. Not a millisecond later when the door closes the room erupts in hushed whispers. Lucius doesn’t doubt that by the end the entire building will know about the man’s “mysterious” partner. Lucius quietly schedules a press conference for the next day.

+1

The media gets wind of it by the next day — because of course they do. Each headline is more extreme than the next and Danny has fun teasing Bruce by reading each one out. 

The interview Lois had forced Bruce and Danny into would probably go up either tomorrow or today now that the cat was out of the bag so to speak, but he probably would still need to address the general public in the press conference. Bruce silently thanks Lucius for his foresightedness in scheduling a press conference for today – Bruce had been tired yesterday, the exhaustion loosening his lips. While he didn’t want to hide away Danny now that he was back, he had wished for more time to announce it on his own terms. 

Bruce stands in front of the mirror as he adjusts his tie and Danny stands behind him, chin on his shoulder and arms around his waist. 

“You’ll do fine,” Danny cheers up Bruce. “Just deflect to the fact that an exclusive interview is going up soon and keep it short and simple.”

“You are not one who has to address them,” Bruce grumbles. 

“Do you want me to?” Danny’s voice is uncharacteristically serious. 

Bruce turns to see the man instead of looking at him through the mirror. Danny runs a hand through Bruce’s styled hair before settling it on the man’s cheek. A finger brushes Bruce's lips before Danny pulls him in for a soft kiss.

“You know I would do everything for you, darling.”

Bruce huffs out a fond breath and settles his forehead against Danny’s.

“I know,” he confirms, before linking their hands. “Together?”

“Together,” Danny affirms with a grin. 

Danny changes into a nice dark blue suit – complementary to Bruce’s blue tie and together they step on the stage to address the news. Both of them smile as they wave at the flashes of the cameras.

“Hello Gotham,” Bruce greets. “This is my husband – Danny.”

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

M!troll x f!reader

2.3k words

You knew Ba’tual rarely slept with someone more than once, you weren’t quite sure exactly what to make of him letting you know he was expecting more.

(Oral: male receiving, size difference)

————

The sounds of movement woke you and you opened your eyes to see sunlight streaming through the windows and Ba’tual getting dressed.

“Good, you’re up. I though I was going to have to wake you” he commented, only barely looking over.

You sat up, your head spinning a little. Not the worse hangover you had ever had, but you certainly were not feeling so great.

Looking around you saw your clothes folded and sitting on the table along with the borrowed jewelry neatly placed beside them, so at least getting dressed and leaving would be easy.

Well, mostly easy. You struggled to figure out how exactly Bira had tied the shirt around you yesterday and you resigned to wrapping it any way you could just to keep it up. Hopefully you would not see anyone on your way back to the inn where you were staying.

As you went to leave Ba’tual stopped you for a moment and placed his hand under your chin to tilt your head up and make you look at him. He glided his thumb along your bottom lip before pressing the tip of it into your mouth, “I have things to do today, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pressed his finger in a little farther and forced you to swirl your tongue around it “But you know where to find me.”

As you went to leave he gave you such a saccharine smile. He was still insufferable, but you supposed you did not have to like him to be able to have a little fun.

Tracing the roads back to the hold as a best you could, you kept an eye out for anyone who might recognize you, disheveled hair and last night’s clothes on incorrectly was not a good look on anyone.They were not many humans in the city so you drew at least some attention anywhere you went, but at least so far you did not know anyone you walked past.

You wanted to take a wide berth around the hold, figuring that was where you were most likely to bump into familiar faces. Besides the road you usually took to get back to the inn, you realized you actually did not know any other way back. Going through the main square was your only option for now.

Cautiously you looked out from the side street you were on to check who was there. It was still fairly early in the morning and almost no one was out yet, which was quite a relief. You moved quickly across, hoping your little hustle was not drawing too much attention and you made it just over half way across before you heard a familiar voice.

“Looks like someone had a good night” Bira teased.

You could have died of embarrassment right there.

“I’m just glad to see you didn’t spend all night writing notes” she laughed.

“Yeah” you laughed back awkwardly.

“So, anyone I would know?”

“I don’t think so” you lied.

She gave you a little shrug and a smile, “Well, hope you had some fun.”

As you turned you saw something that made your heart sink: Ba’tual walking towards the two of you. Quickly you started to walk off, hoping to not be too suspicious but you heard him call out to you.

“Hey, you left this at my place” he called out much too loudly for your liking and holding up a bracelet.

You looked back and forth between him and Bira and tried to brace for impact. You were one hundred percent certain that you had put on everything that was laid out by your clothes, you had no idea how you missed something.

“Him?” Bira practically spat at you, “You have a whole city to pick from and you picked him? That’s who you went home with?”

“Good morning to you too, Bira” he smiled, clearly enjoying the scene he was currently causing while he went to hand you the bracelet.

“I could have set you up with so many better choices!” Bira hissed at you as she snatched the bracelet from Ba’tual.

“She can’t help that she has good taste” he smirked.

“A whole city. A whole city! And you choose the guy who’s been pestering you nonstop?”

You did not know how to explain it, nor did you think Bira would actually care, but Ba’tual could actually be quite charming when he wanted to be. And besides, you had fun with him. It was not like you were looking for a relationship.

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean that other people can’t like me” Ba’tual teased Bira.

“Fine, fine, make whatever poor decisions you want” she threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, “Just be careful, ok?”

“It’s fine, Bira. I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing” you assured her.

“And you” Bira snapped at Ba’tual, “don’t be such an asshole.”

“Oh but I think she likes it, she certainly seemed to like being pushed around last night” he smiled.

“Not another word” Bira warned him.

He smirked, “That’s fine, I have places to be anyways, but I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Really?” Bira asked you as Ba’tual walked off.

“I mean, it was really good” you shrugged.

Bira looked like she wanted to retch.

After getting back to the inn to wash up and change, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly at least. You headed back to the hold as you were supposed to meet with several of the huntsmasters from the minotaur clans that lived in the plains outside the city.

As you approached the hold you spotted Ba’tual in his typical spot outside, watching over two newer recruits as they sparred. He looked up as you passed and beckoned you over.

“Find me when you leave, I’ll be here all day” he told you.

You just nodded, fairly excited for whatever awaited later.

The day dragged on much longer than it should of. You found yourself struggling to write down everything the huntsmasters where telling you: important information about traveling routes for trading or following migrating animals, mostly just going in one ear and out the other. At the end of the day you smiled and nodded politely as you bid them farewell, kicking yourself for being distracted at such a vital time.

You quickly scanned the area outside the hold, the excitement building as you spotted Ba’tual sitting and leaning against one of the posts that lined the sparring area.

“Found you” you playfully called to get his attention.

“Great job” he snorted.

“Soooo” you began, “What’s the plan?”

“I’m starving, and could use a drink. Dealing with new recruits is draining.”

“Not a fan of being a teacher?”

“No. They all think they know better and then whine about unfair fights when sparring” he stood up and once more placed his hand under you chin to make you look up at him, “So I could could use a drink and some stress relief.”

You tailed behind him, somewhat struggling to keep up with his long strides as you made your way across town. The tavern he brought you to was one that you had never been to and you were the only human there. Ba’tual sat at the bar and and immediately started chatting in troll to the bartender. He smirked and nodded his head towards you and the bartender gave a laugh.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Nothing, just ordering for us” he shrugged.

You were certain there was more to it, but it was not like you knew what he had said to prove anything so you dropped it.

The two of you made your way back to his place, a pleasant buzz in your head from the alcohol but less tipsy that then previous night at least. It was a short walk at least.

Ba’tual wasted no time once inside, immediately beginning to unlace his pants. “On your knees” he directed you, only barely glancing your way as he folded his pants and sat them aside.

You raised an eyebrow at him and remained standing.

“Please” he added with a clearly faked smile as he saw your facial expression, “And come over here.”

You knelt down between his legs next to where he sat on the bed and immediately he grabbed your hair and pulled your face right up against his cock. He was looking down at you expectantly, but did not say a word. You ran your tongue across his tip, lapping up the pre cum that had formed already. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair, somewhat forcing his way into your mouth in his impatience.

Swirling your tongue around him got quite a response. He caught you off guard and bucked into your mouth, making you gag a bit and pull back. You looked up and shot him a dirty look, but he did not seem to care.

“Careful” you hissed at him.

“You can handle it” he shrugged.

“If you want me to blow you then don’t do that again.”

Cautiously you resumed, this time wrapping a hand around his base to hopefully keep him from shoving his cock down your throat. You started a steady rhythm of stroking him while you sucked on his tip and you felt his grip on your hair loosen as he relaxed.

Looking up at him, he really was quite a sight. When he was not being a pain the ass and kept his mouth shut he really was rather handsome.

You ran your free hand up his thigh and felt the taut muscle right under the skin, you had seen him sparring several times and knew he could absolutely manhandle you if he wanted. Slowly you moved your hand farther up his thigh until you were able to cup his balls, they hung heavy in your palm and you smile as you heard him moaning while you played with them.

He was leaning back on his elbow, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through parted lips.

“Fuck” he moaned, “That’s why he didn’t shut up about it.”

You snorted, you did not know what he was going on about, but it was almost charming in a way.

Slowly you took more of him into your mouth, enjoying how he tasted and smelled. He had been outside training recruits and sparring most of the day, giving him a strong, musky smell especially with your face between his legs and tasted of salt from the traces of sweat on his skin.

“Look at me” he directed you, though the commanding tone had all but dropped from his voice. Now it was almost a plea.

You looked up at him, though leaning back a bit he was watching you closely now, breathing heavily through parted lips.

“Spirits” he sighed, “You looked good with your lips around my cock.”

You held his eye contact and took more of him. At this point you were just at the edge of gagging if you went any farther and still it was only about half his length. You kept your tongue against the underside of his shaft, teasing him a bit as you slowly pulled back to see how he would react.

Quickly you felt his grip on your hair tighten again as he yanked you back towards him, though this time with your hand around him he did get deep enough to make you gag.

“Don’t” you warned him as you all but removed him from your mouth.

He gave you an almost pathetic whine, but released his grip on your hair entirely.

With your newfound freedom of movement you wrapped your other hand around him, working your mouth and hands in sync. He was nearly whimpering as you continued and you could hear soft words in troll falling from his lips.

As your pace increased so did his panting and ragged breathing to the point where he was nearly gasping as he finished. Spurts of thick, warm cum filled your mouth and quickly got to the point to overflowing and dribbling down your chin.

He reached down and wiped the cum off your chin with his finger before holding it to your lips.

You humored him, not only licking it off playfully sucking on his finger for a moment.

He let out a deep breath through his mouth before speaking, “Fuck” he sighed. “Really does live up to the hype.”

“Wait, have you never been blown before?” you asked in bewilderment.

“No? Have you seen troll tusks?”

“What about orcs or minotaur?”

“Look, we share a city and all get along, but not like that.”

“Then how’d you even know what it was?”

“My best friend is married to a human, you think he doesn’t tell me all about what he gets up to?”

“Fair” you conceded and you went stand up. You pressed yourself against him and began to kiss and nip along his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You did not know how to answer. It was obvious what you were doing: continuing.

“Aren’t we just getting started?” you asked, doing your best pouty, sultry voice.

“Wasn’t that enough?”

“No?” it was your turn to sound annoyed.

“Well, I’m tired. I’ve had a long day.”

“And I must be the only human you’ve had luck with, because while I’m not the only one in the city I must apparently be the only one willing to blow you” you fired back.

You saw his lip twitch as he scowled at you, clearly annoyed and doing his best to play nice. “Fine. If you’re going to be like that then give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

[djarrex]

in this moment

here’s a little thing I wrote on dad!Steb if he’d gotten a human pregnant. I have a couple of headcanons about his character in here, too. cw: pregnant!reader and non-descriptive birth scene. very, very soft. nothing explicit. about 1.3k words.

read on ao3 | masterlist

Neither of you had thought that it'd be possible for you to get pregnant–which is not the best excuse to not have been using protection–but miraculous things happen when you least expect them to.

You’d planned on telling Steb the news on a picnic to his favorite quiet spot on a well-deserved day off, but instead you’d caved in on yourself early and told him one late night when he’d just gotten home after a long, hectic shift. He reacted pretty much the way you’d expected him to. It was confusion, at first. Motionless and wide-eyed. It was actually comical in a way, since he’d literally just walked through the door and was in the process of shimmying his duffle bag from his shoulder. You repeated yourself, and that’s when you saw it click. Steb’s brows knitted together, and he ripped off his beret before practically running to you and enveloping you in a hug. He whispered his surprise in your ear, his pure disbelief – his concise utterances all layered heavily with excitement. 

When it really started to settle in, you weren't even sure if you knew the first thing about carrying a non-human baby. Steb wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, either; he’d been hatched from a soft-shelled egg laid by his mother, but his father was human, which is why Steb has many human features: like having hair and eyebrows, and blunt teeth. The sexes of the parents were reversed this time, so neither of you had a faintest clue how it would work, or if it was even viable.

Using the extensive database at the station, Steb was able to find the sole doctor in Piltover who specialized in non-human medicine, holding a practice in the quieter part of the city. This doctor helped tremendously, and had better insight than the previous doctor you’d tried, someone who had too much unspoken judgment paired with zero knowledge of Steb’s species. The whole situation was unprecedented, but that didn’t stop your new doctor from giving it their all. 

From very early on, the two of you were assured that the baby was healthy and growing as it should, comparative to a human fetus carried by a human mother. You were expected to carry your child the full term and have similar symptoms as any other expectant mother.  At home, you had done plenty of your own research, and Steb had read up as much as he could when it was slow at the station. Being a practiced medic meant he was able to retain a little more of the medical aspects of it all, and he proved just how dutiful of a partner and father you knew he’d be. Steb almost anticipated your needs, knew what techniques to try when you were uncomfortable and sore, and made sure you were eating plenty of nutritious foods. 

Taking into account what you’d researched, it really did feel like a normal, human pregnancy – just with something a little bit different growing inside of you. Both of you slowly grew more confident. Less time was spent worrying about the unknown and instead that time was used to set up the nursery, gather the most important items necessary, and still make sure there was time set aside for the two of you as a couple.

As the weeks turned into months, and with every check up, your baby had similar behaviors to human fetuses; but the three of you–Steb, your doctor, and yourself–knew that the baby would need to be born in a similar way to its father, so it was suggested and agreed upon that you would deliver in water.

The two of you wanted your child to be born at home, and a proper birth plan was made. When your water broke, Steb was on shift. You quickly called the station – and Steb must've sprinted the entire way home, no doubt weaving his way through citizens promenading along the streets, because when he arrived he was out of breath and eerily bone dry. His concerning condition shoved to the back burner, Steb immediately went into action. He filled the tub, grabbed everything on the list the two of you had detailed prior, carried you in, and called the doctor. You’d strongly encouraged him to take a quick, cool shower to rehydrate, but he denied, concisely stating that being by your side for every moment was the most important thing.

Labor was no walk in the park. You were pretty sure you’d nearly broken Steb’s fingers with how hard you’d been squeezing his hand. Ever the calm and collected medic, he coolly guided you through it all, modeling your breathing and providing the doctor with an extra hand when needed. Between his tasks, he would reassure you in his own, unspoken way when you started to visibly falter.

A final, prolonged push and you felt it. Breathless, you looked to Steb first, gauging his reaction. He was panting in disbelief and was utterly motionless with shock, staring wide-eyed into the discolored water. His hand was still locked with yours, but it grew limp in your grasp, distracted. When you finally looked between your bent legs, you saw a faint glimmer of scales, and the most beautiful set of little webbed fingers and toes as they curled up in the water.

You don’t remember the last time you’d seen Steb tear up – but he was absolutely beside himself when he reached in the water with shaky hands to carefully grab his baby girl. Cradled in his arms, she started to cry with her first breaths of oxygen. He shushed her softy, slowly rocking her back and forth. Steb looked at you with all the love in the world, and the rush of hormones caused you to start bawling.  Through blurry eyes you watched as she blinked her own bright, glassy ones up at him. He blinked back, stray tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You were totally exhausted, but you wanted to commit her to memory, as if you’d never see her again. You were in awe of the little being that you’d just pushed out of you – a spitting image of the man who was holding her.

Her skin, a paler shade of teal, glistened with moisture. She already had quite a bit of thick hair that had grown on the top of her head. Too small to protrude at this age, her pointed ears were instead pinned back against her head. On her face under her eyes were pink shimmery scales and frills, similar to her dad’s only miniscule and a little lighter in comparison. The same, striped patterns stretched across her tiny body. Steb adjusted her to lay her head on his other arm, and during the switch you saw the fins that looked like little bumps line her spine up to the back of her head.

You wondered if this was exactly the way her dad looked after he’d hatched, when his infant body started to take shape.

She had your nose, but basically everything else belonged to Steb. Flawless. 

He said her name, the one you’d agreed on long before that moment; it came from Steb’s homeland. It fit her perfectly. 

A million promises swam in his eyes as he kept his adoring gaze on her. He looked so at ease with his newborn daughter in his arms. Natural. Fatherhood suited Steb for sure.

Closing your eyes and tilting your head back, you recalled just how unsure and anxious the two of you had felt at the beginning, after the initial shock had faded. You never could have imagined what it would be like, living in a moment quite like this one.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Bridal Visions: Photoshoot #6 - Natlan Bridal - Quite So Charming

Summary: Ororon in a suit was most certainly not something you were used to seeing. But there was something undeniably charming about it. But then, Ororon had a brand of charm all of his own.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ series/ sfw/ fluff/

Bridal Visions Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1031

I sat awkwardly smiling as I watched Chiori, the photographer, and Ororon walk around, flaring out my skirt so that it covered a large portion of the wooden floor I knelt on.

And even though I knew next to nothing about design, I knew exactly what was being gone for in this photograph. The designer of this wedding gown, Chiori herself, wanted the skirt in all its glossy white glory to be shown off in all its magnificence.

In all honesty, though, I was far more distracted by the sight of Ororon in his dark-colored suit and vest.

It was a stark contrast to his usual clothes that were ripped and highlighted with bright blues and purples. 

And then there was the fact of how he didn’t have his usual hood to hide behind. Instead, I could see his face, eyes, and fluffy ears clearly for once. And it was oddly endearing in a way that made me understand even more fully than I had before why Traveler chose him to model a groom’s attire for this photoshoot.

After all, it was a good look for him, if starkly different from his usual one. But Ororon wasn’t an unattractive young man by any means.

I fully assumed that I’d been chosen due to how comfortable with me Ororon was. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to have asked if I was the person he was going to be modeling these clothes with.

I could hardly complain, though. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever worn something so fancy as this dress, and who knew if I ever would again.

All glossy, pristine white satin and backless so that the pearls that draped from shoulder to shoulder could be seen clearly against my back, the dress certainly was beyond beautiful, perfectly grandiose, and yet oddly simplistic with the way it leaned into the pure white of the gown.

Perhaps my favorite part of the entire outfit was the lacy mantilla veil that was attached to my head by a narrow tiara whose pearls matched the back of the dress. Somehow it perfectly completed the entire look, and it was a fight to not fidget with its delicate edges as I watched them finish fanning out my dress.

And while I might have never met Chiori until today, I could certainly say I respected her taste in clothes. And while I certainly wasn’t planning my wedding at the moment, I fully imagined this dress would haunt me.

In fact, a small part of me hoped I would be able to request the dress as payment since she’d made it specifically to my measurements, just like how she’d perfectly tailored the suit to Ororon. Though I wasn’t sure how to even start going about making such a request.

“Alright. I want you to lay down on the skirt now, Ororon, with your head near where she’s at,” Chiori gestured lightly to the sleek fabric as she spoke, and Ororon almost immediately frowned. Starting forward several times before looking up at me with an unsure gaze that had me tilting his head at him.

“What’s wrong?” My question mirrored the confusion on the photographer’s face as Ororon continued to hesitate before he shook his head slightly, “I don’t want to step on the skirt and get it dirty….”

I giggled lightly at his words, shaking my head even as I spoke, “Then just kneel at the edge and crawl forward till you’re on the skirt and roll over.”

I watched silently, smiling in amusement as he did as I instructed. First kneeling awkwardly and then carefully crawling onto the skirt before flopping over and looking up at me with an oddly blank expression, causing me to snicker.

Because despite my early thoughts of how endearing seeing him in a groom’s suit like this was, he was also painfully awkward in a way that spoke of exactly how unused to wearing suits he was.

I glanced over to see Chiori looking at him with raised eyebrows even as she stepped back out of the line of the camera. And though I truly adored Ororon, I could hardly blame her. I highly doubted Ororon, or even myself, was what she’d expected to receive as models for her bridal line.

I glanced back down at where Ororon lay next to me, his head just beside my hip as he looked up at me with a characteristically innocent stare that had me tilting my head at him yet again. Idly wondering what exactly was going through his head before he spoke up, “You look really pretty.”

I blinked at his words, my eyes widening at the perfectly blunt honesty that made his words far more flustering than any teasing could have ever been.

I reached down though, idly brushing hair out of his mismatched eyes as a smile slipped onto my face, “So do you. Different than usual, but still really nice.”

 Without any warning the shutter of the camera went off right as he smiled slightly up at me, something softening in his gaze that I almost missed as I realized our picture had just been taken.

He blinked, his ears twitching slightly at the sound before he turned, and I glanced over, quietly hoping that neither of us had our eyes shut in the image as Chiori leaned over before nodding approvingly as she looked at the camera’s screen. Apparently satisfied with the image.

“That’ll do nicely, thank you,” She looked over at us as she spoke, and both me and Ororon nodded as I rested my hands on my lap.

“Of course,” Ororon’s voice was soft as he sat up before glancing back at me and nodding slightly before he looked back at Chiori. “Thank you for letting us wear these clothes.”

Chiori blinked at his words, looking taken aback, but I could hardly blame her. To those who weren’t used to it, Ororon’s level of politeness paired with his rather awkward nature could come as a surprise.

But in the end, it was all a part of who he was and was also what made the image of him as a groom quite so charming.

If you would like to read more:

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[goorehound]

Viktor x Silco Fic Idea

chapter 2

ao3

Okay, I need beta readers here. Not so much looking for correction on grammar and such, but wondering if this is worth writing more of! Please give me your thoughts! This is a random thing I banged out quickly, and I’m feeling like I could turn it into a full fic. Feedback very much appreciated!!

Summary:

Silco, a newer (and far from proud) resident of Piltover, is struggling to raise his freshly teenage daughter Jinx in the uppercity after a messy divorce. Teenagers are difficult, and a new school is always an adjustment.

Viktor, a begrudging and very overqualified high school teacher (after a falling out with his old business partner) is desperately trying to keep his promising student afloat. If only her father were not such a stubborn bastard that refuses to work with him.

Attending a meeting at a stuffy, Piltie high school was the lowest of concerns on Silco’s priority list. They would learn to cope with Jinx’s rowdy behaviour eventually, she was simply a bit hyperactive - they only jumped to conclusions because she was from the lanes. Thus it all felt blown out of proportion, what could she possibly have done so early in the school year to warrant a conference on her behaviour? Likely nothing of note.

Silco had no qualms about further postponing, claiming his business hours kept him far too occupied to be able to bend his schedule to allow a meeting. So far, the exaggeration had worked - not a full lie. His hands were very full with work, yes, but he could always nip out for an hour if need be. Silco only relented when words like suspension and expulsion were thrown about. The distaste he held for these institutions and his reluctance to involve himself in frivolous concerns about Jinx’s supposed bad behaviour, according to the Pilties delicate sensibilities, was not stronger than his want for Jinx to have every opportunity available to her.

A diploma from this school would open more doors for her, in future. Though he wished deeply that she would not want to continue life in the upper city after school was through, he would not want the option to be closed off to her. Silco knew that she was smart beyond her years, unblinded by the pride of a father and merely an innate fact. She was a genius and that was completely unarguable, she would do incredible things in her lifetime - of that he was sure.

So, what was one stuffy little meeting in the grand scheme of things? He could wipe the disgust off his face, listen with faux concern to whatever pompous asshole had taken issue with his daughter, then be on his merry way. Simple.

“Silco, was it?” A lilted and accented voice drew him from his musings. What he did not expect when being welcomed in to the cramped office adjoining to a spacious classroom was - well. A sump rat just like he, if he had to speak ineloquently. Which was all his bewildered brain could manage at the moment, dichotomous eyes flickering about as they took in the lanky form in the doorway. There was a quality that was difficult to hide up here, he’d discovered.

A certain look. A specific, guarded look that swam just beneath the eyes. The accent had given him away like a massive billboard proclaiming his origina, and yet the quality in which he held himself was familiar. Even without speaking, Silco would have spotted it instantaneously. Like recognizes like. No matter the time spent above the fumes, one could not erase their upbringing. Certainly not enough to hide from those who understood.

“You are Jinx’s father, yes?” The man asked, something like steely defiance flashing in his eyes. Oh, perhaps Silco’s staring had been misinterpreted.

“Correct.” Silco offered a smile that did not quite crinkle the eyes, detached and smooth. “And so you must be Viktor.” He offered a hand. Politely, he offered the hand Viktor could shake without releasing the grip on his cane. Pleased by the short and firm grip he was given in return, Silco was swift to follow Viktor into the room without an ounce of hesitation. His attention had officially been caught. Unless this man had been corrupted by his time above, there may be actual reason for concern for Jinx’s actions.

“It is not usually so difficult to convince a parent to come in.” Viktor expressed as he sat down at a modest desk, cane clinking against the wood as it was propped up. Blunt. Silco appreciated that.

“I am a busy man.” Silco spread his palms in an appeasing what-can-you-do manner and smiled the same, disingenuous smile as before. “But with your persistence, it must be urgent. What is it you believe Jinx to have done?”

Believe. Suspect. Accuse.

There was a heaved sigh, and Viktor adjusted the papers in front of him as if to bide time. “She has been,” he seemed to try to parse the correct wording out of the air, face contorting just the slightest. “Disruptive in classroom settings. She has a short temper, a very passionate disposition.”

Silco stared expressionless as he processed the statement. Yes, that was Jinx in a nutshell, and his frustration mounted at being dragged in due to his daughters personality. He prayed there was more to this, and it was not a complete waste of air for Viktor to share this observation. “Go on.” Silco urged, legs crossing one over the other as he leaned back in his seat.

“Well.” Viktor cleared his throat, apparently struggling to maintain eye contact. “There are suspicions that she is involved in some vandalism.”

Of course. Why would she not immediately climb her way to the top of every suspect list? The burning ember of rage that had made itself a nest in his chest after their move above the smog flared, a righteous anger flickering below his sternum. “Hmm, I see.” Silco hummed diplomatically. “Any proof of this?”

“No.” Viktor sounded almost as though he was attempting to reassure, eyes finding their way back to Silco’s own. “What kid does not enjoy a little vandalism? It could have been anybody.”

The following silence was thick.

“But Jinx has to be more cautious than any student, I’m sure you understand.” Was that sympathy that Silco felt in the undercurrent of those words? “She is- she will be scrutinized more heavily. I worry that she may be painting a target on her back.”

Silco highly doubted that Viktor had gotten the go ahead to share this sort of sentiment in this meeting. The man truly held his curiosity in a firm grip. Be careful, he seemed to say, they will be harsh with her. But Silco did not need that sort of warning, fully aware of the prejudice that she would face in this environment. It was a dialogue he held openly with her and was comfortable answering any and all questions she had regarding it, as he had done repeatedly. She was just as conscious of this fact.

“Your concern is much appreciated.” Silco assured, voice not betraying any of his frustration. What did this man expect him to do? Train Jinx to abide entirely by this society’s rules, and subsequently erase her personality? He had absolutely no inclination to do so. The vandalism he could discuss with her, because he had no doubts she was the culprit. Not on school grounds, perhaps, don’t get caught. Lessons he’d taught before. But the rest, the Pilties would just have to adjust. “But there is not much to do in the way of her disruptive nature. I will not dim her-“

“I am not asking you to dim her.” Viktor interrupted, seeming insulted at the implication. What an interesting little man, he must have such a big heart. Had Silco not been so frustrated about the whole predicament, he may have taken a moment to be glad Jinx had a teacher like him to turn to.

“-And the school will adjust to her.” Silco continued with certainty, as if he had not been interrupted. “Having a mind like hers topside will only benefit them, and they will see that.” Her exemplary grades had been a marvel at her elementary school, and Silco knew Piltover’s need to exploit her gifts would win out. Playing the system, as it were.

Viktor’s lips parted as though he had more arguments, eyebrows broadcasting his displeasure at Silco’s response. Despite the obvious disagreement, Viktor seemed to compose himself before speaking. “I urge you to get on top of this before it grows into a larger problem.” When he reached for papers this time, it was not listless fidgeting. He grabbed a pamphlet and slid it across.

“She is acting out,” Viktor did not say this with the judgement those words would normally carry. “And a place to vent her emotions, that is not during classes, could help.” With that said, the paper was now thrust towards Silco more insistently.

Therapy. As if she was some broken child from the sumps, as if her eccentric being implicated there was something wrong with her. As if she needed some well-meaning third party to poke around in her brain, and encourage her to subdue any part of herself. She was fine, the way she was. Jinx did not need to change, and Silco would not hear another word of it. He stood stiffly, snatching the paper off the desk. Perused it, hummed under his breath, before crumpling it within his fist. Viktor looked on with evident disgust.

“Thank you, for your advice.” Silco did not plaster on a friendly expression, but his face was not nearly as thunderous as he felt inside. Blessedly neutral, he dropped the wrinkled pages into the bin on his venture towards the door. “Apologies for the disruptions in your classes. Of course, I’ll give her a stern talking to.” Now, the shit-eating curve of lips returned, slicing into his next words with a false sense of cheer. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if any more pressing concerns arise.”

It was only after he exited the that he accepted within himself that he may have given an overdramatic exit. Perhaps, if he really reflected, he was needlessly harsh. Silco felt it was excusable at the moment - he had been right about the meeting being an utterly useless waste of time, and how disappointing indeed. He’d gotten his hopes up when he discovered the nagging emails had come from a devastatingly pretty Zaunite, hoping maybe the tables had turned in his favour. But the conversation had gone just as irritating as initially expected.

At least he could impart some wisdom around committing petty crimes such as vandalism over breakfast the next morning. He supposed that could save Jinx more trouble in the future, so, small victories.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

You are amazing by the way, can I please request a fluff fic for Jason Todd with a reader who’s so sweet, super affectionate and loves him literally worships his body and always kissing his scars

Why yes you can :) I live laugh love some body worship with Jason💜

Pretty Boy

Jason Todd x Reader

Lots of fluff!! Y'all are lucky I felt nice today and didn't decide to write another angst

One kiss.

Then another.

And yet another: they seemed like they would go on for ages. Jason wouldn't mind that, of course. And neither would you, for the record. There is absolutely nothing you loved more than making your boyfriend feel as loved as he actually is.

It started early in the morning, when Jason was making breakfast. Today was one of those rare days where he would wake up before you and get up to make food. Believe it or not, he's actually a great cook, especially with breakfast. It's hard to even comprehend how easily he's able to flip an omelette.

"Good morning, Mr. Todd," your voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, the sound slightly muffled by his skin. Before he even has a chance to response, you press a feather light kiss to the scar ranging from his shoulder to the middle of his back.

"Good morning, gorgeous," is Jason's immediate response, smiling slightly to himself even though you couldn't see it from your current angle. He didn't think much of the kiss at first; he does the same to you whenever you're cooking.

"How did you sleep, handsome?" Sometimes, Jason forgets how sweet your voice sounds. It startles him, in some strange way. If it were anybody else speaking, he would've found the honey-sweet tone to be sickening.

But not with you.

Not with his sweet girl.

"Slept fine..." His tone, however, is a dead giveaway that he's bullshitting you. Jason Todd is many things, but a good liar isn't one of them. Not with you, at least. From the first kiss the two of you had ever shared, he knew that it would be difficult to lie to a woman with such a sweet taste.

And, for a moment, he's almost convinced you believe him. The most you do is let out a soft hum, accompanied with a slight sigh, before pressing a kiss to one of the scars on the back of his neck. He almost let out an actual sigh of relief at your lack of response.

"Bullshit."

Instead, he lets out a soft sigh of defeat. There wasn't much of a point in denying it now, was there? Besides, he can't escape the slight feeling of guilt he gets whenever he lies to you, even over something so simple. Sometimes, he wonders if that's because he told a harmless lie to Bruce before seeking out his biological mother.

Jason doesn't respond for a while, not verbally, at least. His shoulders hunch up a little, almost like they're stuck almost shrugging in response to you calling him out. He doesn't notice, but he does that a lot whenever he lies to you. Hell, he even does it when he lies to Bruce nowadays.

The most you hear from him for what seems like forever is a soft, shuddering sigh. Sometimes, you have to wonder if he tries to convince himself that he was okay, too. Did he do it with other things, like when he has to stitch up his own wounds or hold gauze to a gaping injury?

Probably.

Sometimes, it's like he forgets he has you. Of course he's grateful for you and absolutely refuses to take you for granted. Even with the love of his life there by his side, it's like he's just... Used to bottling it up. You can only imagine that it kills him inside the same way it kills you.

But still, his silence prevails.

A fourth kiss to a scar on his neck. A fifth to one between his shoulderblades. A sixth to the 'J' shaped branding mark on his cheek. You wish you knew him before his untimely death. Before all of the rage and need for vengance consumed him whole.

And finally, finally, you turn him to face you, leaning over to turn off the stove behind him for the time being. At first, he looked confused. Whether it was because of your lips' sweet assault on his body or because you turned him around, you weren't quite sure.

Regardless, the warmth sparked in his body only spread as you started to pepper his autopsy scar in feather-light kisses. The touch of your soft lips to his marred skin was nothing less than that of an angel's on a sinner. Oh, how he prayed to the God's above that he could keep your touch for just the shortest bit longer.

When your lips eventually make their way down to the bottom of his most prominent scar, past his bellybutton and just barely reaching the teail of dark hair down to his pelvis, you give him one more liss before rising. You liked having a guy like Jason who didn't turn a situation sexual at any possible chance. It took so long for him to let you see his body like that, and you would never break that kind of trust.

As your eyes finally meet his yet again, the green orbs practically shining in the morning rays of light, you press a soft peck to the tip of his nose. If this were back when you first started dating, Jason would've undoubtedly flinched away from such a sudden touch.

But now, after months of exploring eachother's bodies and souls? He trusts you. Your boyfriend, for the first time since his resurrection, trusts somebody.

"Come lay back down with me, Jay..." You coo softly, resting your forehead against his while wrapping your arms around his thick neck. To anybody else, this type of affection would be odd. I mean, how could the Red Hood learn how to love gently?

But to the two of you, it's home.

"It's only eight... I've got another hour before I really have to be up for work," you try to reason as the slight bit of hesitation Jason always holds appears in his beautiful eyes. You knew that as soon as you tried reasoning with him in that honey-sweet tone again, he'd crack. "Come talk to me. Maybe you can get a little more sleep to make up for such a crappy night, hm?"

You end up staying home the whole day with him to just talk.

Masterlist

[inhcritance]

Harry couldn't remember being ill. He couldn't remember that raw, furious desperation, not beyond the nagging whisper of a memory and the shadow of what it might have been.

Once, at some point, he'd said he'd known it had been a bad idea. That doing it risked every single thing he'd ever stood for. And yet he'd been willing to go forward with it, because the alternative was dying.

Something that wasn't a cure, but it had worked, and it had been enough, and just like Harry was not looking at the camera, was resolutely pretending he had not noticed that glance, like so many others -it could be useful one day, he'd told himself, why show his hand too early now- he did not ask if he was still dying. Not when he couldn't be certain if Peter would know, or even if Harry's own father would.

Not, moreover, when his suspicions of what might have happened were starting to have more of a shape. Not exactly a circle, like the one Peter was drawing, but the moment that the circle had been broken.

A part of him was tempted to reach out and press his hand against the glass, to see just how much warmth he might be able to feel across it. The rest of him knew better than to allow himself something like that. Not as he found he'd crossed his arms, almost hugging himself, and forced himself to relax a little, to sit straighter.

Did it count for anything, he wondered, as his eyes went to the hand once again. He did not heed the part of himself that sneered that he should be able to pretend to be unbothered, and have it all be convincing.

"I wouldn't know." He shrugged instead. "Not now, at least. But I hope so." He admitted. "And it's a start. I don't feel sick."

Not that he had any idea if he was feeling healthy or not, because he only had... well, the first days. And this. And all those shattered memories he couldn't still put together well.

"And I appreciate you telling me." He added, and he meant it. Even when telling him likely involved everyone else knowing too. "I know it's... not easy."

A platitude, mostly, because it was not easy on any of their sides. And Harry did not know of any way to make it better. Just trying to remember, and figure out, and learn, and keep the frustration and the boredom at bay.

And then, because if he'd ever been strong and good at keeping his emotions out of reach, that was not a skill he thought he'd kept, he spoke again.

"Just, you say I didn't see anyone, during those first days." He settled for. "Anyone at all?"

And he at least managed to keep most of the mix of exhaustion and hope in that question, because he was sure of nothing, and he wasn't sure if a yes or a no would be worse. But he'd still had to ask.

@localwebslingers

It wasn't a surprise that the photos were looked at first, and neither was the sudden glimpse of frustration as Harry took the first few images in. Peter couldn't remember the order but could imagine why they had gotten the reaction. He didn't point out that he'd noticed, instead giving his explanations of what was in the bag and letting Harry go through them at his own pace. Glad that it seemed like the items Peter picked out seemed to be the right call. He smiled a little at the assurance of Harry's current clothes not being itchy at least, he wasn't sure if they'd be bothering or irritating to him or now, and nodded, "Well, hopefully these are a better option then for lounging and reading." or studying, he guessed.

Nothing wrong with being comfortable and cozy while learning about something. Or relearning about something.

Peter was quiet a moment at the question and shook his head slightly, "...not for this long." he admitted after a moment. This was one of those things that was tricky to answer and he threw a glance over at the camera in the corner that was trained on them before shifting slightly. Thinking over how to try and explain it, without actually detailing what it was that happened, "...this is going to be one of those answers that might be a lot so, stop me if you need to, okay?" he chewed his lip and looked back at Harry, "....you were sick, really sick." Peter paused and shook his head slightly, "You were dying, but no one knew how to stop it, and so you figured out a treatment plan for yourself. It wasn't a cure, and it wasn't perfect or easy for you, or on you, to come up with. But it did help, and it gave you time. A lot more time than you would have had otherwise, but it didn't come without...I guess you could call them side effects."

Reaching out, he touched the glass lightly and slowly started drawing a circle over it, "First few days, you were a lot like this...and you told me a lot about what it was like. The parts that were hard and the parts that weren't. That's how I have an idea about it, like that maybe you want more space right now...but also not to do anything like move fast, or anything else that sounded like a stresser for you those days. Then those side effects would start to lessen, not go away but get easier to manage, or to ignore as long as nothing too bad suddenly came up." like supervillain fights or surprise multiversal travel.

The circle was drawn up towards the top towards where it started, "But eventually, all the effects of the treatment would lessen. You'd get sick again, and you'd have to go through it all over again." Peter stopped and didn't pull his hand away from the glass right away, "I don't know if what you're feeling now is the same as those first few days, or if it's worse, or less, but I can tell you that you shut yourself in those days and didn't see anyone until it passed so it was at least similar. I don't know if it'll lessen from what it is now either or just get easier as you get used to it but...I've seen you like this, and I've seen you be okay. That's gotta still count for something, doesn't it?"

|| @inhcritance ||

[amaranthdahlia]

god i will never stop fawning over how absolutely SPECTACULAR afo vs bakugou was. genuinely one of the best fights in the entire manga in terms of art, the themes, the pararells, the gayness, the fight itself, and just. everything about it makes me wanna scream into my pillow and chew on it

[petit-papillion]

😫😫😫

Merci sebchalea for the translations.

[scarletcomet]

i was talking with my dad because i don’t really understand a lot of things in my computer engineering class, and my dad has a degree in computer engineering. he said i should try to meet with the professor. i told him that the exam is in the morning, and he was like oh people usually start studying more than a day in advance. like first of all, i did not start studying today. second of all, did he miss the part where i’ve been severely depressed for the last like month to the point where im going to have to take incompletes in all (except maybe one) of my classes??

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[galadrieljones]

It speaks volumes when Lavellan calls Solas a "terrible liar" in the Cobbled Swan. Rook is, of course, confused by this. "He's the god of lies," she says. But Lavellan clarifies, because that's not what she means. She means that he can't tell "lies of the heart." That is why he had to turn her away, because he actually could not deceive her.

Varric, very early in the game, also refers to Solas as "sentimental." He says to Rook, "He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals."

There's something very interesting about the elven god of lies and deceit, who unwillingly wears his heart on his sleeve, essentially creating a new version of the world in which all sources of raw, magical *emotion* that, according to him, used to imbue it with so much life and beauty have been compartmentalized from the more brutish, harsh aspects of the physical world. Because he, himself, has had to do this very thing to his own heart. He's "split." A very cool archetype. When he tells the Inquisitor to "harden her heart to a cutting edge" in Inquisition, he is projecting. Solas has built a "veil" within himself, to protect his more stern, militaristic identity as The Dread Wolf from the effusive, soft, and intelligent man that is Solas. It's the only way he can get anything done. Perhaps we should more aptly call him the god of stoicism and compartmentalization.

It's also interesting how well characters like Varric seem to know Solas, because it communicates that Solas did open up to the people of the Inquisition, during which time he "played the role" of quiet, unassuming Fade mage. Perhaps this wasn't a role at all, however, and perhaps this is why he is failing so spectacularly now. Who he really is is just this man who fell in love and made friends and found a home within a community where he did not have to cut off his emotions in order to lead. This was the "breach" in his plans, so to speak. It tore his world apart.

The whole story of Veilguard actually starts because Varric knows he can appeal to Solas's emotions and that this has a high chance of working to some degree. It's important to remember that while Varric didn't change Solas's mind at the ritual site, he was able to keep Solas talking long enough for Rook to sabotage his plans. Solas entertains Varric's pleas, because, sort of as Rook guesses with Lavellan at the Cobbled Swan, in some ways, Solas wants to be stopped. He wants someone to pull the reins on him because he is too prideful to stop himself.

Thinking back to Trespasser, I remember we all sort of knew this right away just in reading his body language. I remember someone making a whole post about it, and how he will not allow her to get too close to him. When she approaches, he takes a very measured step back. And later, as he takes the anchor, a task which requires him to take her hand, we see exactly why this is. He breaks down, calls her his "love," and kisses her. He is so stern and so measured and in "control," but then, all it takes is a single touch from the woman to whom he showed a glimpse of his true heart, his true self, to bring him to his knees.

The Veil as a narrative manifestation for how Solas tends to seal his own raw emotions away from others in order to function as the revolutionary general he had to be for centuries is a very beautiful construct to me.