#hell yeah time for another re read

[isilwhore]

All of my special guys are in here

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[astrxealis]

me rn having the biggest hots for leon kennedy and astarion sorry LMFAOOO <3

[slayfics]

Katsuki lends you a shirt.

Warnings: aged up | NSFW themes

1,000 words~

"You keeping up with me brat?" Katsuki asked, turning the page of his textbook.

You both were studying for the next coming exam in his dorm. Like always- Katsuki had almost all the material memorized, and you were struggling to grasp everything.

"Hold on- let me re-read that last question," You complained, reaching for your mug full of tea while scanning the page again. Multitasking resulted in the mug slipping from your fingers and the warm tea splashing out. Luckily the contents only dampened your uniform and not his bed. You'd never hear the end of it if it did.

"Damn it-" you exclaimed.

"Do you have to be so damn clumsy?" Katsuki ridiculed.

You rolled your eyes at his remarks. "At least none spilled on your bed," you spoke and dabbed at your soaked shirt with a napkin from your bag. Your dabs did little to soak up the large spill of tea. "Whatever it's fine- can you just explain this last question to me," You asked, throwing the napkin back in your bag and admitting defeat with your wet shirt.

"You're really helpless, hu?" he mocked and looked up from his book but immediately became halted by the sight of you. Katsuki's eyes snapped quickly back to his book, and he cleared his throat.

"Yeah yeah- make fun of me all you want can you just explain it already?!" You pressed.

"I'm fucking trying-" He grunted peering up at you again before looking back at his book. The spill from the tea had made your once-white uniformed shirt completely see-through. The sight was proving to be a distraction for him.

Missing the blush that tinted his cheeks and reddened his nose you taunted him, "Or do you actually not understand it either, hm?" You teased.

"Tch- hold on," Katsuki said, keeping his gaze from you as he got off the bed. He shuffled to his closet and threw a shirt at you. "Change into that- can't focus with you looking like you came back from damn wet t-shirt contest," he explained.

Slightly confused, you looked down and realized that with the spill set in your bra was completely visible through your shirt. You let out an amused laugh and unbuttoned your shirt to change into his.

"THE HELL?!" Katsuki exclaimed and quickly turned around.

"What?" you asked teasingly. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Change in the damn restroom," He barked.

"Oh relax- my hero costume is much more revealing than this," you replied.

Katsuki just let out an annoyed grunt.

"Didn't expect you to be so flustered by tits," You laughed. Even though he had turned around you caught his reflection in the mirror- his eyes slightly peered at you stretching to grab the shirt he threw at you.

You smirked at him in the mirror, and his eyes shot forward when you did- the small blush on his cheeks deepened at being caught.

"I don't mind you know- if I did, I would have gone to the restroom to change," You said.

"Just hurry up," he said roughly.

You eyed the back of him- his hands tightly bound into fists and the blush now evident on the tips of his ears. It was fun to see Katsuki so flustered. It was such a change from his usual attitude. As if finally, something had power over the stubborn boy. The feeling gave rise to devious thoughts that you couldn't say no to.

"Have you not seen boobs before?" You asked, tilting your head to the side.

"HAH?! Course I have!" He yelled.

"I mean in person- up close," you clarified.

Your question seemed to stun Katsuki- for the first time, he was speechless. He wanted to tell you to shut the hell up and change already so you could get back to studying but- his mind was racing with why you were asking him such a stupid question. Until you asked another-

"Do you want to?" You asked almost in a whisper.

What kind of question was that? Of course, he wanted to- but... he wasn't some damn perv like Mineta or Kaminari.

"Tch- you think I'm some fucking perv like those other extras. Just change so we can get back to studying," he finally answered.

"No- I offered that makes it ok- and that blush on your face says otherwise. You think I can't see that?" You teased.

Katsuki grunted and turned around to face you, "You're not going to fucking give this up, are you?" He said, pretending it was your stubbornness that was making him give in and not his own desires.

You smiled at his flustered expression, "I will- if you tell me honestly you don't want to." You said winking at him.

Katsuki gritted his teeth and his nose scrunched up.

"That's what I thought- you can't can you?" You giggled.

"You're so damn provocative," He complained but sat next to you on the bed.

"This has been bugging me all day anyway- been dying to get it off," you said unsnapping the back of your bra and exposing your breasts.

Katsuki's eyes widened at you- shocked that your offer was not just a tease. The blush on his face ignited once more and so did his scowl as his eyes gazed at your exposed skin. He looked equally frustrated and flustered as if he was angry at his own desires. Katsuki hated feeling vulnerable- and you knew just the ways to get the best of him.

"You can squeeze them if you want," You offered further.

Katsuki only peered at you for a moment to ensure your offer was legitimate consent before quickly squeezing one of your breasts in his hand. As he did, he turned his face away from you- hiding his lack of composure. You were soft, and warm, and all his boy hormones screamed at him to stuff his face in your chest. He was sure if he turned to look at the sight of your breast in his hand, he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he didn't want to give you that satisfaction of having power over him.

As rough as he was everywhere else in his life you were surprised at the gentleness he used to squeeze you.

Katsuki dropped his hand but remained looking away from you and he tried to regain himself.

You took mercy on him and threw his shirt over your head finally.

"This is a comfy shirt," you said, trying to change the subject and ease the embarrassment oozing off Katsuki.

"Keep it as long as you want," he grunted and cleared his throat making a grab for his textbook again. "Alright... what question did you need help with again brat?" he asked- attempting to move on and switch back to his usual rough demeanor.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @zanarkandskylines

[papaya-twinks]

maybe some pride and prejudice vibes with lando but like modern, where reader works in the f1 and thinks he's arrogant and stuff but does not know he is actually shy or secretely does very sweet things for her without her noticing and arguments and accidently offending her and tension ending with confession/fluff?

Warnings: Angst (I had to remove the argument coz it wouldn’t fit the plot)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - there’s dis photo of a letter Lando wrote to the Hungarian pottery thing where he made his helmet and like, he spelt trophy as ‘trophey’ so I’m giving y’all that reference for this fic

You’d spoken to Lando once when you were contributing to strategy, and you had it down that he was an absolute dick. Well, you had it down before you even met him, which kinda was wrong on your part, but you couldn’t help it.

He just gave of…jerk vibes. Ya know? It’s just sometimes like that you and you automatically don’t like it. And Lando definitely noticed your vague and cold demeanour to him, 100%. Which left you with the question - was he just naturally a dick or did he just adopt the stereotype you gave him?

“Y/L/N, make sure the strategy’s good,” one of the engineers said, patting your shoulder as you nodded, still jotting down figures and numbers which only made sense to you. You felt an arm brush past you as Lando walked by, not casting a single glance in your direction as he spoke to some mechanics.

Jerk. Well, you weren’t sure if you actually wanted him to talk to you. If he did, you’d probably he just as pissed. What you wanted, even if you’d didn’t understand. It was kinda of annoying in some ways. Sighing, you stood up from your table, going to the coffee maker and pressing the bright ‘on’ button, pushing al thoughts of Lando out your mind.

“What the fuck..?” you muttered to yourself, a bouquet of flowers on the desk with the words ‘you always make good strategies - lets win another trophey :)’ scrawled onto a bit of card. What was this? Did you have a secret admirer? You couldn’t deny the thought kind of intrigued you - it seemed cool, in some ways.

And then the next day, when you found the same coffee order you usually got from the machine, sitting on your desk, at the perfect temperature. Whoever was doing this, they definitely knew your exact arrival time, for the coffee to be this temperature. Oh my god. Yet no one was around. Odd.

“Lando, I need your notes from the meeting,” you said, holding your hand out as you sipped on the drink. Lando was leaning against a desk, wearing a thick McLaren coat and a beanie, some curls peeking through against his forehead. “Sure,” he shrugged, handing you the paper dismissively.

Okay dude. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you made your way back to the desk, unfolding the bit of paper and peering at his scrawls.

pit when y/n says. do whatever strategy she yaps about. make sure she don’t favour oscar all the time. try and win or get a trophey.

Well these notes weren’t very good- hey wait. Trophey? What was this guy, could he not even spell? And then it hit you. Trophey. Trophey. You grabbed the little card you’d kept tucked into the back of your phone case, peering at the spelling.

The handwriting was the same. He wrote his a’s in a certain way. There was no way, though. It was a prank surely? Lando Norris, of all people, being your secret admirer. It was bullshit.

“Lando, need to talk to you about strategy,” you said quickly, still clutching his notes as he rolled his eyes, following you to your booth. “What the hell is this?” you whisper yelled, showing him the card as his cheek reddened. “You had an admirer? Cool?” he said, trying to play it down.

“Yeah yeah,” you scoffed, “it’s you!”. He gulped as he re-read the card, silently cursing himself for not being smarter. “Yeah, okay, and what?” Lando snapped defensively as you scoffed. “Someone have a little crush?” you said, never dropping the opportunity to tease him. “Whatever,” Lando muttered, “any reasonable guy would like you anyways,”.

“Yeah?” you said with a small smile, pressing your lips to the corner of his, his scowl falling replaced by a shocked look, his eyes wide, cheeks rosy. “I love hibiscuses,” you shrugged, moving back to your own booth, leaving the driver dazed. Wow.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

I've just re-read my previous requested fic for tf 141 x reader with high pain tolerance, and I think we could extend this prompt (and as always you can take it or leave it, no pressure a yea 👍🏻)

What if TF 141 almost lost F!Reader again, this time she got caught by enemies and got tortured for crucial/classified information. While being tortured, you can't help but feel a little grateful that you have such an extreme pain tolerance. You finally managed to get out that place by your own (and of course after unaliving your enemies) and got back to your team. Men are worried as hell cause 1) you look like shit, like someone has just crawled out of hell (which in your part it isn't wrong), 2) the fact that you have extreme pain tolerance just make it worse

And when you finally got evaluated by medics, including clothes off, that's when they knew you'd have it worse than what they've imagined. Black-ish bruises almost every where, broken bones, dislocated joints, dried blood etc. It's heartbreaking seeing you like this. Probably some will have self blaming, guilty, rage, and other mixed emotions. Hmm imagine the heavy angst but also the massive comfort after that.

Thankskie 🦈

Summary: high pain tolerance F!Reader get tortured, after you getting rescued, enjoy the FLUFF between you and TF141

cw: very slight gore (interrogation), canon swearing, canon violence

blahaj, FLUFF, TF141*F!Reader

last req about high pain tolerance F!Reader

Oh, This isn’t great. You probably going to die this time.

You licked your chapped lips, the bitterness of iron is obnoxious, making you regret the motion and go back to try to piece together your memories again.

You counted the time when you first got caught, but after endless rounds of interrogations, your mind is too hazy to keep up the measurement.

With your hands bounding tightly on your back, chains and steel bars preventing your legs from moving, all you can do is just prey for your teammates to come.

At least you aren’t afraid, no fear of death, nor fear of pain. It’s always these moments that you feel grateful for having almost no feelings of pain, it makes you keep composed and adamant.

Well, starving kind of sucks though, you guess you’ll even devour those vegetables you hated and shoved into Kyle’s plate if it’s presented to you.

Your mind wanders, from your pudding hiding in the deepest part of the fridge in case someone (Soap) eats it, to how Price will scold your ears off for being too reckless when you’re back, until the footsteps outside the door remind you to concentrate.

Damn, you need to get out alive if you want to listen to your dear Captain recite the rules.

The door creaks open with the broad man stepping in and his dogs tailing after with weapons.

The cool water gets splashed on your face when the man stands still in front of you.

“New toy, yeah?” you spot the machete in the man’s grip

“Glad to see you awake, sergeant?” The man laughs “Seems like the mouth still works pretty well, I hope your mind is clear too so we can cooperate perfectly today.”

“Sober enough to tell you ‘no’, I guess”

Red pours from your shoulder the second after your taunt, and you frown slightly at the little sting.

“Fucking bitch still has a sharp tongue after these wounds...” He eyes down at you with a bit of disbelief.

Even though you can’t see yourself, you know you look like shit either. Burnings from the lighters, slash wounds from various tactical knives, dark bruises forming on your thigh and other parts after countless punches and kicks.

All you need to do is buy time, but even if you barely feel pain, you still will die from blood loss if this keeps going.

The rest of the interrogation is just adding more injuries to your broken body, and your consciousness starts fading.

You really want to take a nap... but will you wake up again? you’re not sure especially when another smash lands on the back of your head.

Just about minutes before you sure will pass out again, you hear the noise. Gunfire, yelling, screaming of a massacre.

They arrived...

“Go check what’s wrong.” The broad man gestures, and one of his subordinates walks out to

“Guess your saviors have come... now” You look straight into the man ’s eyes when he puts the muzzle between your eyes. “No time for playing, one last time, tell me the people gave you the intel.”

The chaos outside is getting louder and closer. Buy time, you tell yourself again, so you whisper

“Okay... Okay... I will tell you, please don’t kill me, please...” You sniff, and start sobbing while your head stays lowered.

“Finally giving up, huh? Tell me, I need their name, who do they belong.” The smirk on the man’s face gets wider, god, you really want to punch his face.

“It’s...” You murmur, and the man leans closer to hear clearly.

“It’s go fuck yourself, you bloody bastard.” You spit the blood on his face and grin like a maniac.

and the door swings open, the gunshot splatters the man’s blood on your face, but you don’t care.

You win.

“Hey, guys, long time no see.” You smile at your teammates after the man collapses beside you.

“You’re fine now, don’t worry, we got you.” Soap rushes to your side “Price is calling the exfil, Ghost and Gaz are outside making sure everything’s clear.”

“Thanks...” You melt into Soap’s arm when he unties the rope and carries you.

“I tell the bastard to go fuck himself, hehe.”

“Stop talking, bonnie, ye need to rest.”

“Did I do great?”

“Yes.” The gravel voice of Soap’s becomes softer as he answers.

“May I rest now?” you blink slowly.

“Of course, lassie.”

Getting the confirmation, The warmth radiating from Soap is too soothing, you want to tell him how much you miss them, but those words are unable to come out as you get dragged into a coma instantly.

“damn...”

Your eyelids flutter open, the familiar white ceiling is the first thing you see.

“Morning, bonnie, how do ye feel?”

“dizzy as fuck.”

“pain?”

“Nah.”

“Sometimes I think you’re not human...” Soap laughs, but he’s worried, or worried can’t describe his mood when he saw your wounds as you were sent into the infirmary.

That day when they back to base, all of them followed you, and didn’t pay any mind about getting their gears off first.

You looked like someone who just found her way out of hell, beautiful face swollen, large bruises spread across your skin like some nasty paintings, and the situation was worse than they expected after the medics cut your clothes off and started their evaluation.

Soap couldn’t forget the rage swallowing him like flames when he saw what you went through in those days, the more wounds they spotted, the more tension in the air became more insufferable.

Gaz and he cursed when they saw the huge burn on your back, skin obviously inflamed, and when the deep cuts that exposed the bones revealed from the cover, he noticed Ghost clenching his fist to suppress anger.

Price stormed out of the infirmary and called Laswell between the medics surmising how many of your bones were broken.

“Wait...” your voice pulls Soap back to reality “blahaj! 4 blahaj! Where do they come from?”

“Price gave them to you, as rewards for your hard work. He said you keep rambling about wanting to have one.”

“awwww” Soap grins as he watches you struggle to hug all of them at one time.

“There ya go.” He helps adjust the plushies so you can get them all in your arms.

“Oh yeah, where’s others?”

“Price’s on op, will be back in a week. Ghost and Gaz will visit you soon.”

“Hmmmm.”

You caress one of the blahaj’s head and turn your face

“Thank you.” you grin “For coming to save me.”

“What are you talking about?” Covering his hand on yours, he looks into your eyes, without those playful glints in his azure ones.

“We’re a team, or more than a team. Ye think we will throw ye there and do nothing?”

The seriousness on his face infatuates you, you meet his gaze without darting, and finally, break into tender giggles.

“yeah, sorry, you’re right.” You chuckle “You know what? In that basement, All I wanted was to get out of there and come back to eat my pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Yeah, I have one in the fridge.” nodding in excitement, you continue “I should ask the doctor if I can eat it.”

“Wait that’s yours?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ehhh...” Soap’s smile freezes on his face under panic “I ate it.”

“...”

Soap MacTavish gets kicked out of the room with a new mission: buy 10 puddings.

When Gaz knocks on the door and steps into your ward, you are staring out the window, but turn to him immediately when you hear his arrival.

“Hey, Kyle.” You wave with your better hand.

“Feel better?” The sugar-coated smile he has always provides you with energy, your mood lights up as he takes the seat beside your bed.

“mmhmm, not that dizzy anymore.”

“loves those sharks very much?” He points at the blahajs you squeeze close to you.

“Damn, they’re my new babies now.” You show Gaz each of them.

“This is Pricey, this is Ghostie, this is Gazzy, and this is Soapy.” Proudly introducing them to Gaz, you give the sharkies a few pats.

“Such Innovative names, hm?”

“I don’t think Gaz is some special name too, Kyle.”

You both giggle at the stupid names you granted to the sharks, while Gaz lands his eyes on your arm hanging mid-air, his laughter gradually comes to a halt.

“Hey.” He watches you raise an eyebrow when he calls you “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Just...” His eyes stay on your bruises, traveling along them, and he hates that they lead his gaze to roam your whole figure. “We should be there faster.”

His brown eyes are full of distress when they meet yours again.

“Garrick, come closer.” You beckons, and he follows suit.

“Don’t apologize. When I saw all of you on that goddamn chair, I knew I was safe now.” You cradle his cheek in your palm “You guys are my shelter, my home, and I never thought the chance that my team wouldn’t save me, Soap said it yesterday, and I’m sure you’re the same, yes?”

“Of course.” His eyes soften, and you return him a reassuring smile when

“Time for you to go train the rookies, right?” Shooting a glimpse at the clock, you ask.

“yeah, time to deal with those troubles.” He stands up from the chair and looks down at you “See you, lovie.”

“see ya.”

You watch him walk towards the door, but stop after a few steps.

“Why does Soapy have a huge dent on his head?”

“Oh.” You pout “He ate my pudding, so I punched his shark since I can’t spar with him now.” another punch hit Soapy when you finish speaking.

“Wow...”

Gaz mourns for his brother’s future with his whole heart.

“Still awake?” The gruff yet gentle voice floats into your ear the moment the door slides open.

“Been sleeping the whole day, LT.”

Ghost watches you shift, and lies on your side to face him.

“How’s the day, Ghost?”

“Shit as usual.”

“How about seeing me, feel better?”

“Feels worse.”

“Hey, honesty is a virtue but not here.”

He scoffs at your retort as he observes your face.

“The bruises on your face look smaller.” Ghost indicates.

“Oh yeah, my face! How does it look like?” You point at the hand mirror Gaz brings you, and after Ghost hands it to you, you open the lid.

“Jesus Christ!” you shout when the reflection shows you how shit you look like “I’m so ugly right now!”

“We all know.”

“Damn, if there’s an award for honesty, you will be the winner, Simon.” You throw the mirror back into his grip.

“Will you congratulate me?”

“I will give you an ‘I’m a winner’ sticker for you to paste on your mask.”

He chuckles at your banter, but you can sense his exhaustion, from his limp body to his half-lid eyes.

“You’re tired, Simon. Go back to rest.” You coo softly.

“I’m not leaving until you sleep.”

“but I’m not that sleepy now.”

“Should I sing you a lullaby, sergeant?”

“I’m afraid that my ears don’t have the honor the hear your beautiful singing, Sir.” you feign an ‘oh hell no’ face to him, but your eyes light up when an idea comes to mind.

“Hey, how about you lie on my bed? it can fit 2 people.”

“I don’t know you’re such an active woman.”

“Fuck you, Simon. If you want me to fall asleep then get on the bed right now!”

Sighs in compromise, Ghost rises from the chair and sits on the edge of your bed with a grunt, and you scoot inward to leave him more space to lie down.

“You’re like a bear, Ghost, I’m gonna squash into a pie by you and the blahajs!”

“Then throw those bloody sharks on the floor.”

“No! they’re Tf141 blahaj!” You pet the one in your arms when Ghost gives you a confused face. “This is you, Ghost.”

“The real Ghost is beside you and you choose him over a fake one?”

“I don’t know you’re that active, lieutenant.”

You smirk at him, he’s only wearing a balaclava, so you’re able to see the corner of his eyes crinkle at your words.

But Ghost must have some magic, you grow sleepier under his presence, maybe it’s his steady breath sounds like a lullaby, or it’s because safety he always generously offers to you.

“Sleepy now?” He speaks slowly and quietly as if he’s fear of scaring your sleepiness away.

“a bit...” A big yawn answers the question better than your slurry voice.

“Close your eyes then.”

“mmm.”

You secure the Ghostie blahaj in a tight embrace as you follow Ghost’s command.

you feel light pats on your non-injured part, and you scoot closer to the bulky man, letting him lead you into a peaceful sleep.

Ghost watches you fall asleep, and he moves off the bed as gently as he can.

“Sweet dreams.” He chants in a low voice, and he takes other sharks in his hand, placing them closer to you.

Making sure the sharks are cuddling you, he leaves like a ghost in the serene silence.

You look down at yourself, ankles tied to the chair, blood dripping from the knife that’s barely in your sight.

Aren’t you already out of that basement...?

Is it all a dream? In reality, you’re still getting interrogated?

You try to fixate on the noise outside the door, but you feel the cold metal touching your forehead.

Am I never going to see them again? I want to see them again...

I want to hear Price’s praises, want to hear Soap and Gaz fighting over the last biscuit, want to hear Ghost’s annoyed voices at my frolic.

Tears gather in your eyes when you hear the click from turning off the safety of the gun.

“... geant...sergeant... sergeant.”

“Ahh!” You let out a yell as you snap your eyes open, which are wide with horror.

“Cap-Captain...” You pant whilst you recognize the person pulling you from your nightmare.

“Yes, it’s me, love. You’re safe now, you’re in the base, infirmary, remember?” He caresses your hair to calm you down.

Oh, yes, you aren’t in that basement. You’re back.

You’re with the people you love.

“Why are you here, Captain?” after you breathe steadily again, you notice it’s 1 am, and the aisle outside is silent.

“Just came back from the op, and want to see you.”

“You should have some rest, Price.”

“You mean I leave now even when you just woke up from a nightmare?” He crooks his eyebrows.

“Well...”

“Be selfish, love. I will stay here.”

“You don’t blame me for being too stupid and getting caught by the enemy?”

“Things went south sometimes.” He shakes his head “It’s not your fault.”

“...”

“Say it, luv.” He encourages you when you hesitate.

“I...” “I thought I was not afraid of anything... at least in that basement, pain’s not a big deal for me, starvation is bearable, and death... if that means I won’t lose to those dorks, then it’s nothing to me.”

Price gives you a grunt as acknowledgement, so you continue.

“but... I think I’m still afraid of dying...” You fidget your fingers “I want to see all of you again... I want to come back to you.”

“I don’t want to die...”

You haven’t noticed tears staining your cheeks until Price’s finger — calloused yet warm — wipes the tears away.

“We all know you’re brave, kid.” Price cups your face, hand barely touches your skin, must be avoiding trigger your pain, but you don’t care, nor you can feel the pain, you shove your cheek in it and earn a chuckle from the man.

“Your high pain tolerance makes you look forward to your target without worrying yourself, but keep in mind.”

“Don’t make us worry, you need to come back to us, we can’t lose you, just like you can lose us. Understood?”

“Yes, Capt.”

“You want to go back to sleep?”

“If you tell me a bedtime story, then I will.” the mischievous grin returns to your face.

“Greedy, eh? I thought those sharks could satisfy you.”

“I want your bedtime story too.”

“How about I tell you a story about how to become an attentive soldier?”

“Fuck you, Captain.”

You hit Price with the plushie, which he catches easily, and put it on his lap, letting you give the shark little punches to drain your excessive energy, as he starts telling what happened when he met Soap the first time.

You aren’t afraid of pain, and you become an undaunted person on the battlefield. Yet still, you now keep in mind that there are people who love you, and are worried about you.

You all are a team, a home, and a haven for each other, always by each other’s side, or waiting for others to return safely.

and it’s really nice to be able to come back home.

a/n: thanks for reading! and thank you sharkie for the request, I hope you will like it (or not too disappointed) !! :D

Have a nice day/night, everyone!

[firegirl888101]

Hi! I’ve been re-reading the insatiable madness series and can’t wait for the next chapter! I have a little thought though, what if reader cosplays a character the harbingers know? Like Raiden Ei or Zhongli? And then reader almost perfecting the makeup look and persona of that character that the harbingers think they are the character reader is cosplaying, really wanna see their reactions! Have a good day/afternoon/night! :))

- 🌮 anon

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Special Ask:

In the canon story I'm not going to include cosplay regarding clothes or wigs.

(this is because they're a college student with parents who barely support their genshin habit) 💀

Plus that shit is expensive, I think we all know Y/N doesn't have that type of money.

This question was asked by five different people funnily enough, and they were all within the same weekspan! Either the same person asked the same question but wrote it differently grammatically every single time, or that's one hell of a coincidence. Either way, I wanted to answer since it's a fun concept.

I did think about this when coming up with a plot - the Harbingers were first supposed to meet Y/N at a cosplay competition actually! But, I changed it since there would be way too many questions and too much chaos that I probably wouldn't be able to convey well :(

@fuhuaily you asked about this on the 30th of January, I've mentioned you since you didn't put on anon mode <3

Just wanted to warn people that I decided to choose Raiden Ei as the specific cosplay, which means there will be she/her usage when Y/N is wearing the cosplay. This is because Childe sees the cosplay as an entirely different person in his mind, thank you!

Childe was having a relatively normal morning.

Sure, he'd woken up with worst neck cramp he's ever experienced in his life, but he felt ready to take The Balladeer in another fight. To him, this means he's in tip-top form.

Well, he thought everything was normal until he realised that you were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N this morning?" He questioned his insufferable comrades, rolling his eyes when seeing their exasperated faces when they turned to him.

"Probably sleeping in again." Scaramouche rolled his eyes in return. "That mortal sleeps later and later everyday."

"Hm. I thought they'd be crying." Dottore shrugged.

"Why?" Pierro mumbled worriedly, a sharp glare crossing his face and waiting for the doctor to explain himself.

"They had a tantrum due to their homework, not a big deal."

"They had a what!?" Pulcinella raised his voice, worry in his tone. "And you didn't tell a soul?"

"They were being a child. No, not like Childe. Ugh, that's besides the point. They were whining about biology, something about forgetting which parts of the heart were which." Dottore explained, an uninterested face present on his face.

"You ought to report these situations sooner, Dottore." Pierro scolded him.

"Why didn't you help them?"

"Jester, he did." Columbina smiled politely at her superior, a small wave gestured to get his attention. "The Decider didn't listen and ran off."

"Tartaglia, go see what they're up to. If they truly are in their room crying again it's best we force bring them downstairs for a chat." Pulcinella coughed into his hand.

"Who makes the orders, you or I?" Pierro turned to look at him.

"What are you going to do about it?" Scaramouche snickered into his hand. "According to Dottore, we're going to be stuck here. Can't tattle to the Tsaritsa now, can you?"

"Don't you start with me, puppet." Pierro glared at him, feeling all the other harbinger's gazes on the two.

"The minute we get back to the Zapolyarny Palace, I will make sure everyone is reminded why the rankings exist." He threatened.

"Ah, and the Tsaritsa will be informed of everything that takes place. I must remind you not to take things too far otherwise it will get worse for you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. If we get back home." Childe rolled his eyes, walking upstairs after loitering at the bottom to hear the drama.

"I heard that!" Pierro shouted from the bottom.

Childe sighed and walked up to your bedroom door, the nameplate crooked and slightly dusty. He knocked on the door three times. Actually, make it a fourth. For good measure, he reasoned with himself.

"Don't come in! Who is it, and what do you want?" He heard you call out from behind the door, your voice barely discernable.

"The boss man is wondering if you're alright. He's concerned about you crying or something." He answered.

"Whaaaat?" You sarcastically shouted at the door, already recognising Griffin Burn's voice shouting from the other side. "Noooo."

"You totally were."

"Was not. Anyway, I can't come out my room right now. I'm a little... occupied with something." You called out, hairspraying the blonde wig in front of you.

"Listen, as much as I care about you being busy and personally wanting to leave you to it, it's not up for discussion. Pierro and Pulcinella don't look pleased." He rubbed the back of his neck to soothe his cramp.

"When do they not look pleased? Sometimes it seems like simply being in their presence pisses them off." You sighed to yourself, foregoing the wig you were working on and taking pictures of yourself in the mirror.

"Well, I wouldn't say that's the reason... But the way you turn their mood upside down is always funny to watch." He chuckled to himself.

"Whatever, can you leave me alone now? Tell them I can't come down right now - I'll be there in half an hour at most."

Childe felt confused with this. What could you possibly be doing that causes you to be unable to come outside your room straight away? From what he knows, you don't have any evident hobbies. Throughout the days the Harbingers have stayed in your home, you're forced to spend time with them only and answer questions they have about this world.

This is the first time you've ever done something by yourself, and from the sound of your voice, you seem to like doing it too. So much to the point that you got irritated when he tried to make you come downstairs right away. Seeing you act independant for once is a big change he wasn't expecting this morning.

He also doesn't know why, but he doesn't like this change one bit.

Ideas cross Childe's mind as he tried to guess what you could be doing. Eventually... no. No, no, no, no, no. You couldn't possibly be... No, you can't be. An hour for doing that??? If that truly was the answer you must have some impeccable stamina! Maybe the urge to have a spar with you wasn't as outrageous as he thought.

"Hmm... Okay. But, I don't know what Pierro will say to this. If only you had a reliable man on the inside who could tell him to leave you alone for now. Oh wait, that's me." He slyly pushed an idea he thought of in his head.

"What's your point? I don't like that tone of voice you're using." You rolled your eyes at the door.

"Let me in and show me what you're doing! In return, I'll defend you when we go down in an hour or when another Harbinger comes up."

"Seriously? Are you actually blackmailing me right now?"

"Blackmail?" Childe feigned a shocked gasp. "Of course not, it's just a deal within both of our self-interests."

"Riiiiight. Your interest being what I'm doing, which is very nosy by the way. And my interest is not being in trouble with Pierro. For some reason, he's always the one turning my voice against me. Ugh, I hate my life, I've been reduced to a hormonal teenager who whines and complains all the time. Oh wait, that was me years ago."

"Just open the fucking door."

"Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone." You gave up, putting down your phone in your hand and tucking it under one of your pillows.

"No way, did you give up that quick?" Childe spluttered.

"Obviously not. I just figured that you'd go on and on and on about it. Plus, you'll probably find out eventually if you search through all my cupboards."

Childe put his hand on the doorknob, his fingers shaking in anticipation. He was going to be the first Harbinger to enter your room, and you had no problems with that? It seems his day really is going great today!

With a deep breath, he pushed through the door, anticipating your room to be neat and tidy. However, unlike your consistent checks to make sure the house was tidy, your bedroom unfortunately wasn't.

Looking in your direction, you were kneeling on the floor with a can of something he didn't recognise in your hands. Whatever you were looking at intently looked like it was about to fall over any second, the blonde hair being propped up by a cardboard box on your bed.

"Who...? Where's Y/N, and what are you doing with that hair in front of you!?" He exclaimed, not recognising the person in front of him.

Is Childe really this shallow to not recognise me when I don't look like myself? Maybe I can use this somehow... You thought to yourself, deciding to pull a small prank.

"Daring to enter my personal chambers without my permission..." You slowly turned around, trying your best to keep you movement rigid and stoic.

"You are aware it's not the most intelligent of ideas for lower lifeforms to anger their superiors, correct?"

Childe couldn't move, he didn't recognise the person in front of him. She had purple eyes and raven hair, her plait having the same shade of purple at the tips. She wore a stone cold glare on her face which gave no hint of mercy, he figured as much considering the tone of voice she used before. The thought of her not giving him any mercy made him feel excited, has he finally found a worthy opponent to spar with in this world?

"Well, will you at least give an excuse for your blatant blundering?" You narrowed your eyes with folded arms.

"I..." Childe's eyes shook, his dull eyes shining in adoration. "I want to fight you."

Hah? Even when Childe doesn't know it's actually me, he still wants to fight me? Of course he would...

You can't actually fight him. The safest option right now would be to break character. But, this is too fun. Let's keep going.

"You disturbed my peace within my own sanctuary, and now demand things of me?" You questioned him, taking a step closer.

"Do you really wish to taste the engulfing lightning laying dormant in my blade?"

"I do." Childe nodded, displaying his own hydro blades, their glow lighting up the room.

"Very well." You nodded, unsheathing the engulfing lightning polearm you made from its custom case.

"You're not going to take my request for battle seriously? Why fight with a weapon as shoddy as that?"

"Bitch!" You broke character.

"This was my first ever prop I made myself! Apologise right now or I'll kick you out of my house!"

"Wait, Y/N? That was you all along?" Childe cautiously stepped closer, his blades disappearing with his change of thought.

"You're really... them?" He eyed you up and down, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Yes, you prick!"

"How are you all purply? And the way you acted before, it was nothing like how you usually are!"

"I wanted to mess with you since you didn't recognise who I was. It's such a shame I was dressed as the Raiden Shogun, it would have been much easier if I wasn't cosplaying an archon."

"Raiden Shogun? As in the Electro Archon!?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot you didn't go to Inazuma. Well you do, but after the Traveller finishes their business there." You thought outloud. "But still, fuck you for calling my masterpiece 'shoddy'!"

"It's not even made out of metal! Good thing you'll never become a weaponsmith..." He laughed nervously, eyeing your angry strare growing by the second.

"Anyway, could you finally tell me what you're doing in here? It's not just pretending to be an Archon, right?"

"Of course not. Also I'm not 'pretending to be' anyone, I'm cosplaying." You explained, picking up your hairspray and continuing to spray the golden locks.

"...What the fuck is cosplaying?"

"It's a hobby of mine. To put it in simple terms for someone as uneducated as yourself, you dress up as fictio-- uh, people you admire."

"You seriously admire the Electro Archon? Scaramouche would have your head for that." Childe rolled his eyes, unable to hide a mocking grin.

"I don't admire her. In fact, my opinion of her is quite negative. I just find her beautiful, so, I wanted to cosplay as her." Yeah, that negative opinion of her is only due to the fact that now you have to deal with her prototype puppet bullying you both physically and mentally.

"How many of your wacky costumes do you even have?"

"Quite a lot. I recently sold a couple online because I don't wear them much anymore. I got a lot of money for it ya know?"

"Damn, so this is an actual business you've got going on then."

"Exactly. Anyway, can you get out now? I showed you what I was doing." You shooed him away with a hand gesture.

"Nuh-uh. What are you doing to that blonde hair on your bed?"

"Don't even get me started on this Navia wig. It's the last part of her outfit I need and the hairspray ISN'T STICKING. I have spent almost 15 minutes trying to still the curls and it isn't working. If I'm not careful I'll dry it out!" You complained, aggressively spraying the hair.

Childe just stared, feeling the hairspray shroud his lungs leading to him cough excessively.

"Can't you just, not do that? If it's not naturally meant to be that way why are you trying to force the hair to keep still?"

"Styling, my friend. It's because styling exists."

"Riiiiight..." Childe dragged out the vowel, accidentally mocking you from earlier.

"Wait, do you have Lord Capitano's outfit??" He asked suddenly, practically having stars in his eyes.

"Ah, no, I don't. I wouldn't be able to pull off a cosplay of him anyway. Hmm, I don't know about you, but I think he'd be overjoyed at the fact you can't cosplay as him." You answered, snickering into your hand.

"Why would I use one of your wacky costumes when I can get the real thing from the man himself?? I just have to fight him for it!" He excitedly proclaimed, running out of the room whilst shouting his name.

"Oh shit, CHILDE NO!"

Running down the stairs after him without thinking, you were greeted with the Harbingers looking exasperated at a very loud and excited Tartaglia trying to fight Capitano but just being dodged.

"This is why I keep my hobbies to myself.." You sighed into your hands, watching the scene unfold with the rest of the Harbingers.

"Decider, what did you feed him this ti--"

All the Harbingers turned to you with wide eyes, some looking confused and some (Scaramouche) enraged.

"What the fuck... do you think you're wearing?" He grumbled, voice gradually getting louder as his shock wore off into anger.

Uh oh. You forgot you were still in your full get-up... AND THE BALLADEER IS RIGHT THERE. THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED!

"Let's calm down, and-"

"I asked you a question, mortal." His teeth clenched, stepping dangerous steps closer towards you.

"WHY ARE YOU WEARING HER CLOTHES? You could probably fool an incel like Childe, but I would never be fooled by your appearance. What do you think you're doing, pretending to be that... that.... traitor...!"

"Well, I just thought-"

"You thought wrong." He snapped. "What would possess you to dress like someone I hate? Someone you know I despise."

"Listen, you have every right to feel frustrated with the character I decided to dress up as today. I don't fault you one bit for that. But you have to understand, this was just bad luck. Of all the days I decide to wear this cosplay..." You tried to reason with him, leading to his eyes snapping open.

"You mean to tell me you do this to others? And I thought I was evil." He scoffed.

"The only people who think of themselves as evil are people who are trying to be looked at that way." You winced at his accusation.

"Except Dottore, that man is vile in both personality and hygiene."

"Genuinely shut your mouth." Dottore scratched his ear, only proving your point and causing many Harbingers near him to scoot away.

"That has nothing to do with this." He folded his arms. "You know, I've been getting sick of your attitude as of late, aren't you the one who always makes me apologise when I do something wrong? Why don't you do that for a change?"

"Hah? But I already apologised?" You muttered.

"Don't make stupid excuses. All you did was take fake-pity as if you're a friend of mine. I want you on your knees with a heartfelt apology."

Fuck that. You're not apologising sincerely to this piece of shit. Yeah, you messed up and genuinely feel bad, but you'd never tell him that.

"Uh, no thank you." You waved him off. "I didn't even wear this to torment you, I was checking to make sure my stitching was stable enough."

"So you can wear it again?"

"Yeah, for a competition. The whole point of dressing like this is to compete with other cosplayers."

"Ohhh, so that's what you were doing!" Childe pitched in, seemingly giving up with his one-sided fight.

"These competitions you speak of," Sandrone coughed into her hand politely, gaining attention. "Do many compete?"

"Yes. You can dress up as whoever you like. I decided to dress up as the Raiden Shogun because she's beautiful. Also she's popular among competitors to cosplay as, so I like the amount of competition I get by dressing up as her."

"Interesting..." Pantalone mumbled. "And these clothes are expensive, no?"

"Definitely. They can cost over a hundred if you get the entire outfit - and I'm talking about the cheaper lower-quality ones. As for me, I buy the raw materials and sew the outfits myself."

"You... made this?" Signora gaped in awe, stepping closer and feeling the fabric.

"Yes, it has potential. Have you tried clothes which aren't Inazuman?"

"Of course, I dress up as all kinds of people. I'm currently working on Navia from Fontaine. She's--"

"The President of the Spina di Rosula." Arlecchino finished for you, sipping her cup of tea. "The children stationed in Fontaine told me."

"Right, Lyney and his siblings. Yes, I remember them."

"Hm? You know of them?"

"Something like that." You laughed nervously, creeping towards the stairs.

Let's not tell her they're framed for a murder trial and almost get wrongfully convicted...

"Anyway, I'm going to get changed as per request by Scarawoosy. I'll be upstairs, and may not come down. So uh, yeah. Have fun with whatever you wanted me to do before."

You quickly ran off after that, hearing Scaramouche's shouts for you to grovel growing fainter.

"You're just going to let them run off like that?" Scaramouche looked around him, only questioning the others when feeling Capitano's heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Not necessarily." Pulcinella walked into the room, his cane supporting his slow movements. "It's an admirable skill to have, wouldn't you think so, Dottore? I'm aware you have a similar skill."

"Indeed." Dottore contemplated his words. "Although, it was only because we've lived for hundreds of years did we realise they were pretending to be the Electro Archon."

"Do not put me in the same league as Tartaglia." Arlecchino swirled her cup with a teaspoon. "I could easily tell they were pretending."

"No, you didn't see them." Childe argued. "The second I entered their room, they switched personalities and aura's quickly. Not to mention they agreed to fight me when we all know how much they hate any talk of that kind."

"So they're good onstage." Sandrone grinned to herself. "Perhaps if we asked too much of them regarding their ability they'd crack under pressure. It's certainly not perfection, but it's a close start I suppose."

"I'm very intrigued." Columbina announced, being strangely silent throughout the entire confrontation. "Although Childe is younger compared to us, we shouldn't doubt his words. He was named a Harbinger for a reason, maybe they were very convincing?"

"Ugh, out of all the people to defend me of course it's you." Childe shuddered slightly, staying quiet when noticing her intense gaze.

"My point is, we should test them and find out which people they specialise in. Heheh, I'm more focused on the amount and range of people they have in their wardrobe."

"You put forth a good point." Capitano nodded in agreeance. "Although, do you believe they perhaps have some outfits of us?"

"They better not." Scaramouche stated, walking back to the seat he once sat in moments ago. "If they had my outfit, I'd rip their hardwork to shreds." And perhaps, he'd give you the real outfit instead... after all, you still need a punishment for going behind his back and choosing her of all people to present yourself as.

"Well, if they had my dress I wouldn't be opposed. They'd finally be worthy of looking at in the eyes if so." Signora grinned wickedly.

"I want to see what else they have up there." She announced before also walking up the stairs.

"Wait for me!" Columbina giggled, running after her. "If they have my outfit, they have to put it on right away!"

"I better follow them, you know how those women get when intrigued. Besides, it will give me the opportunity to look inside their room." Pantalone pocketed his coins before also walking up the stairs, much calmer than the woman before him.

"Rooster, where is the Jester?" Sandrone spitefully asked him, a slight sickeningly amused tone in her voice.

"Working, as usual. He often tells me 'when we get back', but at this point that day might never come."

"It will come." Dottore silently warned him. "Despite what you've seen me do during the day, at night I work on a plan for the machine back. It would be oh so helpful if The Decider could help me, but why would they help me when that's practically planning their own death?"

"So, it will take longer without their help?" Capitano questioned him.

"Correct."

"Well then," Sandrone had an incredulous look on her face, not believing the stupidity of the men around her. "Why don't we just force them to help?"

"So we're not playing the 'nice guest' role anymore?" Scaramouche laughed, a laugh almost escaping his lips.

"No. I would say we can't afford that anymore." Pulcinella secretly winced, feeling his bones grow shakier every minute.

Extra:

I honestly see a Y/N who would keep up their cosplay hobby during captivity using it as a way to escape. They would dress up as other characters and imagine themselves to be them as they're not being held captive.

The Harbingers would also use this skill of yours on their enemies as bait. They'd have to assess and train you how to act like them, but eventually you'd be a spitting image of them and be the perfect trap for luring in potential assassins. Don't worry, they'd never let them actually hurt you. They've most likely shot the enemy down before you even realise the threat has turned violent.

Scaramouche, if he had no feelings for you, would definitely use the Raiden Cosplay against you. I feel he would tell you and lash out at you whilst saying everything he's always wanted her to hear but never heard him out for. It sucks for you, but it's a good stress-manager for him. As long as you play the part correctly, he won't get physically violent. Play the part poorly, and expect to become the punching-bag instead. In the little oneshot, Y/N is quite lucky it ended where it did. They should try to avoid dressing up as Archons going forward though.

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[twilight-nephilim]

Ditto || Nagi Seishiro

Pairing: Nagi x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which, Nagi finds a peculiar note in his locker from a special someone…

Warning/s: None ! Just general fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Note: This is the first oneshot I’ve written for bllk or literally anyone in awhile so some grammatical errors here and there, besides that I hope you enjoy <33

Nagi walked to his locker with reo, he opens the door as he noticed a note sitting there, on top of all the books he put. Reo notices how Nagi looked stunned for a second and teases the white haired male. “Nagi~ Looks like you got your first love letter” The said male looks at him dismissively and opens the note to read it.

‘Stay in the middle, like you a little, don’t want no riddle. Why won’t you say it back, oh say it ditto ;)

- ♡ ’

He looks at the note and slightly blushes over it, but quickly goes back to his usual bored and chill demeanor, but not before catching the attention of Reo. “Seems like someone has a crush” Reo teased as Nagi just shrugged and put the note in his pocket. “I don’t, love seems like such a bother… unless it’s her…” He mumbles the last part and walks away.

You watch from a distance as you saw Nagi opening the locker, looking away in embarrassment. Too afraid to see his reaction. You turn to look back and saw Reo teasing him about it from the looks of it.

“If you’re gonna keep staring, might as well approach me already…” The voice caught you off guard as you saw Nagi, along with Reo now in front of you. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to stare I was just dozing off I guess…” You made up an excuse on the spot as Reo looked at you suspiciously while Nagi just shrugged it off.

“Yeah I get it… Wanna go to class together? Standing in the hallway is bothersome” Nagi suggested as he grabbed your arm and dragged you along with him, You gave Reo an apologetic look as he looked slightly annoyed but amused in what you and nagi were doing.

The three of you reached your next class as you sat down on your seat, beside Nagi. As he got his phone out to play another game, you caught yourself staring at him. The way he looked focused on his game, the way his hair looked so fluffy and his eyes slightly reflected from the light of the room.

You thought back on the note that you had put in his locker, You never saw his reaction but it was still nerve-wracking. Sure you’ve liked him since the two of you became friends but he would never see you the same way, but at the same time, he would never know it was you right?

Endless chatter from your classmates filled all of your ears but all you could focus on was him.

The front door opens as your teacher walks in, starting the class, you grabbed your notebook and started to take down notes, you were trying to solve an equation but you couldn’t figure out how the hell you were supposed to find x in that equation, looking beside you, you saw Nagi, who surprisingly wasn’t asleep.

You ripped a piece of paper from your notebook, writing ‘Nagiiii help I don’t get what teach is saying

(╥﹏╥) ‘ You passed it to Nagi beside you, looking at him, pleading. He sighs, before writing something for a bit then discreetly passing it back to you.

‘I’m not sure how to explain, but the solution for both equations are at the back, just re-read them over and over again and try to understand it srry :x’ You looked at the back of the paper where Nagi wrote both solutions, You slowly started to understand it and turned the paper over and writing, ‘tysm nagi ur a lifesaver •ᴗ•’, Passing it back to him, Nagi looks at you softly and quickly writes back, trying to pass it back but was caught.

“Mr. Nagi and Ms. Y/n why are the two of you passing notes in my class???” The teacher questions the two of you, and before either of you can respond, she shuts the two of you down with a raised voice. “Detention for the both of you!”

The bell rings as the teacher dismisses the class and you moved your chair slightly closer to nagi’s. “Sorry I got you dragged with me to detention… You have to miss your practice because of me…” You apologize sheepishly as he looks back at you and says, “It’s fine Y/n… It was worth it if it meant I got to help you, besides- practice is lame anyways.” Nagi pats your head reassuringly as you blush at his words and actions.

“W-Well… I have a different class from you and reo so see you later nagi and reo!” You said as you got your stuff and went to a different classroom.

“ ‘Love is a bother’ you say nagi???” Reo jeers at his friend as he tries to shrug it off again. “It’s nothing Reo, besides it’s not like she would see me as more than a friend anyways…” Nagi muttered the last part but the purple haired male somehow overheard it. “So you DO have a crush on Y/n—“ Nagi put his hand over his friend’s mouth, shutting him up. “I never said I did”

The day quickly passes by as it was time for both you and nagi to go to detention together, the teacher came in the room and told you to stay put while shes gone since she still had a meeting to attend to, as soon as she left the room, you saw Nagi getting his stuff. You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

“That teacher never comes back anyways… Are you not gonna leave with me?” Nagi says, “Wait really? Yeah I'll just go with you…” You got your stuff and as soon as you got all your things, Nagi grabbed your hand and straight up ran out of the door.

The two of you ran through the empty hallways as you tried to keep up with Nagi, “Wait Nagi! I'm not an athlete like you damnit!” You yelled out as he slowed down a tiny bit.

You both made it out of the school as you panted for air. After awhile you looked at him then said, “Now what?” You asked him. “You can stay at my apartment for awhile… I got a new game and I wanna play it with you” Nagi offered as you looked at him excitedly “Yeah we can do that!”

After rounds of continuous defeats for you, you decided to take a short break from playing. “Nagi! This isn't fair, you know all the controls and combos and I dont!” You complained after he beat you for like the tenth time in a row. “That seems like a skill issue” Nagi jabbed.

“Ugh! Screw you nagi!” You said back, annoyed, as you were about to get up from your spot, Nagi pulled you back down, causing you to land on his lap.

Your face started to heat up as you could feel his breath beside your ear as he whispered, “...ditto”. You turned to look back at him in shock, completely speechless from everything. “You're the one who sent that note right?” Nagi asked, but with full certainty to his voice.

“Wait-! But how did you know it was me-? Wait you like me back–? Wait—” Nagi cut you off by placing his hand over your mouth. “First, the handwriting is obvious, second, only you and reo know the code to my locker and third, I said ditto didn't I?”

You look at him speechless, unsure of what to say. Nagi notices and moves his hand to cup your cheeks.

“May I kiss you?”

You nod excitedly as he chuckled, “Words, angel”

“Yes! You may—” Nagi cuts you off by placing his lips on yours, fireworks went off in your head as you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

You both pulled away for air as you both panted for air while staring at each other, Nagi then laid down on the floor of his room, bringing you down with him. “Wait nagi– I have to leave–” “Stay.” That one simple word shocked you as you looked at him.

“Can we stay like this for awhile? I don't like being touchy with others, but I don't mind if it's you.”

[highlynerdy]

"I do it because I want to protect him from the world, and sometimes from myself. I want to tell him every secret I ever had, and yet I never want to make him choose, to see the hurt in his eyes, to put this, too, on him. I want-I want so many things. Sometimes, I just want."

Turning The Page by @queerofthedagger / art by @schweetheart

I started this fanARTifact in July 2021 and finally, finally finished it in September 2024. Click below to see so many more pictures and read probably too much about the project.

This project was a LABOR OF LOVE because y'all...I failed so, so many times during the making of it. I had grand dreams of all the things that I was going to do and learn and every single time I tried something it was like the universe telling me to go ahead and go fuck myself, we're not doing that. But it's done and I'm pleased with it. I hope Mona and Schweets are. Let's talk about the process.

I read this story back in July 2021 when it came out and immediately wrote @schweetheart on July 23, 2021 to ask if I could use her art for the back because it was such a crucial part of the story.

She graciously allowed me to use it, and even sent me a high res file so I could have the portrait of Arthur printed on art paper.

THEN. My brilliantly stupid self decided that just making the book wasn't enough. I mean, I had already done that for Arthur's journal back in 2020 and I am nothing if not a nutter about learning to do new things, especially for my fanARTifact series.

SO. I'm going to learn to make paper. Yeah. Totally a reasonable escalation in terms of new skills, right?? ......... Nope. I bought a small 5x7 mould and deckle to practice with and some cotton linters to make the pulp. Twas. A. Failure. I didn't have a press or the felts or the sizing needed to make the paper actually, ya know, usable. This was the first time I put the project down for a while.

Moving on to another new skill in late 2021, I decided that I wanted to make the walnut ink myself. Luckily, I was part of a pigment subscription in 2020 (that is a hell of a nerdy statement, even for me) and had all the supplies in my art studio to attempt this endeavor.

I didn't fail this part! Fucking huzzah for small miracles. Now I had two small bottles of black walnut ink to use for the calligraphy that I wanted to do for some of the excerpts. Except now I was stuck again on the paper making part so I put it back down again for an eternity.

Picking it back up in late 2022, I asked Mr. Highlynerdy to make a custom size mould and deckle for me so I could have long pieces to fold for my signatures. It was his first time doing anything like this but he's a buddy and a pal and gave it a try. Surprising no one if you've read this far, we both failed this part. Even now, I'm still not sure we succeeded but eventually we did get something workable. And considering professional mould and deckles cost in the hundreds of dollars...yeah, it'll do.

It took a hot ass minute for me to feel ready to attempt the paper making again but once I was ready, I ordered wet, pre-beaten pulp from Twinrocker. A very curt man on the phone helped me figure out what I needed and added internal sizing to the pulp I ordered. I didn't take pictures of any of the paper stuff because it was very messy and annoying. Once again, Mr. Highlynerdy helped me rig up a drying box with tri-wall cardboard and ratchet straps and a box fan. Once the paper was dry, I used a gelatin mixture to paint on external sizing. Since I'm primarily a painter, I needed the paper to be able to handle ink, paint, pencil. Sizing paper is the only way to do this, but no worries, I won't go further into the nerdy details about this.

Once the paper was ready, I decided to sew the text block. Here's another part where I failed YET A-FUCKING-GAIN. I talked before on Arthur's Journal post about how books were very, very rare in the 6th century (Arthurian period), but BBC Merlin is soooooo anachronistic that it's fiiiiiine to just do what I wanted. HOWEVER. I did want to try to do visible spine binding. But. Unfortunately I had gone ahead and used all of my paper to bind the text block as if I was going to case it in. FUUUUUUUCCCCCK. It's fine. We're fine. Come on, brain. What can we do.

Well, what we CAN'T do is use a piece of leather from my large remnant that I bought for my first journal because someone - FUCKING ME - measured and cut the last piece NOT TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THE WIDTH of the text block. So now it doesn't fit. And refusing to buy a new piece of leather I'm forced to pivot once again.

I decided to cut the leather spine even shorter, buy some wood pieces and sand them, paint them a matte black, and then glue the leather to those pieces. Cool cool cool. We're moving on. I tested a lot of different glues for this and good ol' super glue ended up being the clear winner. Cue putting this project away again for a whiiiillle.

In October 2023, I decided to pull it out again and do the calligraphy and drawings I wanted. This story has so many gorgeous parts but I finally decided on the first page, the last page, and the page about Gaius.

I mixed my handmade walnut ink with my beloved Finetec gold and used the quills I bought from John Neal Booksellers to practice my Uncial. I shouldn't have been rusty after lettering an entire fic for this fanARTifact, but I was.

The little dragon was inspired by medieval manuscript dragons I found.

Narratively, I loved the idea that Merlin's writing would start off soft and delicate and become stronger by the end of the journal. Also, I loved that the end word "WANT" would be just gold because the ink blend changes throughout. Something magical or whatever.

This part needed tears. They might have been real ones...

Annnnnnnnd, the project was put down again until a few days ago when I decided, after getting back into Merlin fic, I needed to buck up and finish it.

I did so many tests for the cover. I tried embossing, carving, and debossing and hated all of them. I settled on painting it with acrylic paints in the shape of a Celtic knot sort of pattern. I originally wanted to do a triskelion but after reading a bit about how some asshole groups have co-opted the symbol for shitty purposes, I decided against it. It's a mix of black and gold and it's hard to capture the depth of it through photos...eh, I did what I could.

Still. Something wasn't quite working with the brown leather and the black covers with the new symbol so I broke out my matte black leather paint and decided to go all black.

All I had left to do was glue in the text block and it would be done! And that still took me a few days to work up the courage. The book opens nice and flat, which will be good for me as I will use it as a sketchbook.

Sitting here, on September 1st, I have completed a project that taught me many new skills and also taught me a lot about humility and perseverance. There was no way I was going to abandon this project, and maybe I should have started over many of the times, but I am quite in love with the final result and I just hope that it does it's inspiration proud. Thank you @queerofthedagger Mona for all you create and share with the Merlin fandom, and thank you @schweetheart for allowing me to use your gorgeous art.

Also, you may see quite a few other fanARTifacts in this photoshoot because I will use any opportunity to show them off lol.

If you read to the end of this, you deserve a cocktail and a cookie. Thank you. 💛✨✨

[lemonmaid]

Love can grow.

Warnings: platonic, child reader, Geto X Gojo; they are your adopted parents in this, Fluff, first time parenting. Kinda short

Satoru was nervous, hell any first time parent would. Meanwhile Suguru was re-reading the same page of a book he found in the lobby.

"What if something went wrong?"

"Suguru?"

"Su-"

"I'm trying really hard not to think about it right now Satrou".

The two have been.... having fertility issues, after an accident that happened to Suguru when he was younger, he was left, barren. But Satoru stilled loved him, he would always fall for the omega. Which leaves to them where they are now, in a hospital, waiting for their pup to be born.

"Mr. Gojo?".

The two men never shot up so fast, "is everything okay?" Sweat dropped from Suguru.

The midwife nodded, "perfectly fine, would you like to meet your (son/daughter)?".

Satoru smiled, "did you hear Suguru? We have a (baby boy/baby girl)". Satoru was beeming.

The two followed the midwife into a private room. "Since this is a private adoption, the other midwives think it will be best if yall had a room to yourselves to bond with your new pup". In the room was filled with nesting supplies, newborn supplies, and waiting for them in a sterile bassent was their pup.

The two looked down in awe, "would you like to start the bonding process now?"

Satoru nodded, they were then instructed to take off shirts and given sanitizer for their hands and for their scent glands.

"Let's do mom first" the nurse hands their pup to Suguru, placing the pup between his neck and gland.

A milky scent from their pup made the omega purr. Their pup whined at the change of temperature and the new scent.

Click

Satoru was taking photos of this moment. He wanted this to last forever.

Suguru felt tears run down his cheek, "Are they really mine? My pup?". Satoru smiled before sandwhiching the pup and Suguru. "Yeah... they are ours".

First bottle

"Satoru, they aren't latching".

"Maybe you are doing-".

"No, I'm not! The parenting books say-"

"I'm grabing a nurse".

Satoru walked off frustrated, taking a breather, leaving Suguru frustrated with a crying pup.

"Oh I know honey, you're hungry but you have to use the bottle".

(Name) whined against the bottle, their small face turning red. Their scent souring by the secound.

The nurse came in, looking at the bottle and then (name)'s mouth. "Hmm doesn't look like they are tounge-tied let's try another nipple".

With the new bottle, (Name) latched on quickly.

Satoru whistled, "calm down buddy, it isnt going anywhere".

Meeting their Godparents for the first time.

It's been a two weeks since (Name) was brought home, thinking it was a reasonable enough time to grow their immune system.

Shoko enters the house, "Where's the pup?"

Satoru took the enormous gift bags from her hands, pointing up stairs, "in the nursery".

A sigh came from outside, Nanami also walking in with some gifts, "Gojo".

Satoru gathers all the bags following the two up the stairs, "No kissing my pup!".

First word

(Name) was finally babbling, their small body in a high chair watching their dads dance in the kitchen.

"I love you Satoru".

"I lo-".

A high pitched screech pulled them away from each other.

"What's wrong buddy?". Suguru quick goes to comfort the pup, picking them up and coddling them.

"I think they are jealous-".

"Oh hush, my baby isnt jealous".

"Papa!".

Everything stopped in the world, Suguru beemed, "that's right, I'm papa".

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, haven’t read through it.

Leah Williamson x !Reader:

Oh, what a night.

A roar. A roar of noise from the home fans. Them seeing the time on the score. 123 minutes have passed. The fans whistling, shouting, calling out for the referee to blow their whistle. It’s two to one, England winning. So close to win the Euros. So close to change women’s football forever. So close.

Y/n has got the ball, all she knows what to do is boot it away. Then the referee should blow. Magull, the scorer for Germany rushes towards her. However, Y/n being the calm player she is, dribbles past her. She sees Alessia running away and to the Germany goal. Even if this doesn’t reach Alessia’s feet, Y/n knows that the end. The referee will blow and they have won. She knows.

Y/n boots it over to Alessia. And, as she does the noice the players and home fans all want to hear. The screams were almost deafening. But, no one cared. Y/n crashed. Her knees gave up. She’s on the ground, her head resting on the grass that she played on for over an hour. Tears almost threatening to spill as she takes in what her and her friends have achieved.

Her felt an arm pull her up. Not caring who it was she fell right into them. Her head stuffed in the person neck. She didn’t know who it was until they spoke. “We did it.”

Smiling at the voice she lifts her head up, looking right at her. “Fucking hell Leah, i’m exhausted.”

A laughed escaped her lips as she nods her head. “Yeah, me too.” She kissed the top of Y/N’s head. Before Alessia and Ella pulled them away, joining in at the celebration with the team. The night went on. Champagne was drank. Bodies on the dance floor.

It’s now 21:34pm. Every single one of the girls were still partying harder than ever. They are now at there hotel bar. Music blasting, which everyone sung too.

Y/n goes to the bar to grab another drink. Seeing another fellow teammate there. Creeping up behind her. “Hey-“

“Fucking Christ- Y/n!”

Y/n giggled, before turning to the bartender ordering her normal drink she gets. “Sorry, Lee.”

Leah scoffs, shaking her head but smiling softly at her. “Are you?”

Y/n looked back at her, smiling back softly at her, looking around her whole face, marking Leah’s details all around her face before answering. “No, I’m not.” She pulls her eyes away from her only to grab her drink once the bartender passes it to her.

Y/n turns around to face Leah, to notice that she has moved closer to me and is staring right at me. I smile at her and she smiles back. “Hi.”

“Hey…” Leah trials off, her eyes never leaving mine. Which is common for Leah. She can hold eye contact better than Y/n staying on her own feet. “You look… gorgeous.”

Y/n instantly became red. Her eyes leaving Leah’s to compose herself. Leah has always been such a flirt and it’s has always gotten Y/n blushing like crazy. And, Leah always sees it. “I mean it, Y/n/n.” Leah mumbled.

“Stop.” Y/n whispers, placing her drink down on the table they were next too. Before sitting down on one side of the booth. “Why?” Leah asks, following Y/N’s movements. Sitting down next to her.

“You making me-“ Y/n pauses mid sentence. Slightly re-thinking the words she was about to fall out her mouth, before sighing looking back at Leah. “Making me want to kiss you.”

“And that’s a problem how?” Leah asks, her right hands brushes up on Y/N’s cheekbone. “I’ve always had trouble finding how I’m feeling. Especially when it comes to girls.” Leah whispers.

“But, with you- I don’t know, it just makes sense.” Leah mutter, her eyes trying to find Y/N’s as she keeps looking at the floor. “Look at me, please.”

Y/n immediately looks up, her breath hitching as her eyes connect with Leah’s. Leah continues to talk in an effort to open her feelings. The feelings she’s been feeling for a little while.

“I knew my feelings for you while I was still in a relationship with Jordan. That was one of the reason’s we broke up.” Leah murmurs, now both of her hands cupping her cheeks now fully making sure Y/n doesn’t pull or look away.

“You have feelings for me?” Y/n asks, her eyes soften. Her eyes now fully never leaving Leah’s. Fully concentrated on the conversation and confession. “So fucking much.” Leah whispers.

There faces are closing in closer and closer. Like a moth to a flame. Moth is them and the flame the other’s lips.

“If- we shouldn’t do this here. Someone could be filming and it could be on the internet.” Y/n mumbles, her eyes never leaving Leah’s lips. “Yeah…” Leah trials off. “But, I don’t care.”

The hands cupping Y/N’s cheeks, suddenly pulls her in. Their lips meeting eachother’s perfectly. Y/n froze just for a few seconds before her hands came out to wrap around Leah’s waist. Her lips moving in sync with Leah’s. The kiss was slow, but gradually sped up as their hands wander over the other’s body.

Loads of thoughts rushed into Y/N’s and Leah’s head. The main one was the kiss and how gentle and loving the other kissed. But the one that was a problem was the aftermath. Either of them pulled away though. It could easily be the alcohol speaking.

Leah started to move forward, the legs intertwined together. Straddling almost. They hand’s which, Leah’s around Y/N’s wait and Y/n hanging round Leah’s neck. Leah gently bits down on Y/N’s bottom lip making her grunt, opening her mouth. She slips her tongue into Y/N’s mouth.

Before anything more could happen. Whistles from afar could be heard. Y/n was the one to pull away as Leah couldn’t care less. Y/n looks over to see some of her teammates looking over to them.

“Oi! Get a room!” Mary yells, laughing along with Alessia and Ella. Leah rolls her eyes but gradually takes Y/N’s hand. Pulling her up. “Gladly.” Leah yells back, flipping Alessia and Ella off as they made kissy jokes.

Leah grabs her bag off Ella who winked before walking down the hallway trying to find her room. Once she does she grabs her keycard from her bag, swiping the card she rushing into the door her hand never letting go of Y/n’s

“Leah-“ she gets shut up by Leah pushing her up against the door and a pair of lips meeting hers. Moaning into the kiss, Y/n arms wrap around Leah’s next again, pulling her closer.

Leah then trials her kisses to Y/N’s neck. Kissing the skin gently but with a little bit of aggressiveness. Y/n tilts her head back, enjoying the feeling of Leah’s lips on her body. Her right hand holding Leah in place. Not wanting her to stop.

“No hickeys.” Y/n mumbles, but knowing Leah won’t care about that and that she will proudly leave quite a few. “Oh, god.”

Leah’s lips trails up to Y/N’s ear whispering. “Bed, baby.” Y/N’s knees nearly folded.

Y/n pushes her chest forward, making her bad Leah walk backwards. Once Leah’s let’s touch the bed, Y/n pushes her onto it.

Leah pushes back into the bed, before grabbing Y/n by the waist bringing her down won’t her. Y/n now straddling Leah.

Leah hold her in place, biting her lips. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Y/n smiles softly at her before leaning down to kiss her again. Leah’s hands immediately move up to her head, keeping her in place.

Y/n gradually moved her hips back and forth. To which Leah groans to. “Fuck, baby.” Her hands now back on Y/N’s waist, helping her move. “Gosh.”

The night was wonderful for the two. They won the euros, they finally confessed their feeling and felt something they haven’t for a while.

And let’s just say Mary and Ella who is right next door to them the whole night, didn’t get any sleep whatsoever.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, my love!

I, unfortunately, missed your requests being open (six pages of a thesis is kicking my ass right now) but when they’re open again, is there a chance you could write another Dad!Price fic?

Since the last one felt so personal to me, would it be possible to have Price helping his daughter through Uni stress? Maybe she asks him to help her on her thesis? Lord knows I could use some inspo/assistance on mine!

Of course, if this is too late then feel free to delete it! I just wanted to pop in and drop a request off before I either, A: forgot about it, or B: missed your requests being open the next time :(

Sending so much love and hugs <3

Late Night Cookies

PAIRING: John Price x Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Stressed and still awake, you go to grab food from the kitchen before you get right back into your work. Your father talks some sense into you over a nostalgic recipe.

WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: Stress around school, grades, papers, etc. but 90% fluff and comfort

A/N: I'm so glad you sent something in, Love! So good to hear from you again!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes were blurry and your hands were shaking, the table light shining too brightly in the stillness of your bedroom as a cold breeze wafts through the cracked window. 

The words swirled on your computer screen, sitting in front of you as your head slipped forward. Letters bleed into nonsense sentences that even a genius couldn’t make sense out of. There were weights on your fingers—keeping them stuck to the keys. 

“And, thus,” your garbled speech slips out, reading the line you’d just written; eyes squinting as your headache flares. “A-and…thus…” 

Shaking your head, you pull back and press your palms into your eyesockets, your spine flopping back with an audible crack as it straightens from hours of hunched torture. A groan slips out of your lips. 

“Shit,” you growl, sighing harshly. 

University, while necessary, was really your worst enemy right now—you’re constantly stressed and getting little sleep; when was the last time you’d eaten? Pages upon pages of typed research seer your eyes while closed. Only in this tight silence of your room were you able to hear the small sounds of the TV on in the house as it wafts in from under the line of your door. 

Your hands slip down your face as you stare blankly at your ceiling, eyes burning with fatigue. The muffled shouts from football games play in your ears. 

Humming, you push back from your desk and stand, stumbling for a second as your numb legs get prickles of electricity shooting through them. You needed food, water, even. Then you can get back into it. On the way out you snatch a blanket from the frame of your bed, wrapping it over your shoulders to preserve heat. 

Like a snail, you shuffle over the hardwood before finally pushing out into the hallway with only a small bump into the door frame. Hissing, the darkness of the house was good, and before long you’d grumbled past the large form laying on the living room couch in need of any form of sustenance. So brain-fried, you end up completely missing the small questioning ask of your name as Liverpool fights off another rival on-screen. Slashing colors dance across the darkness. 

The hand on your shoulder, though, you can’t miss.

“Sweetheart?” Your father’s voice brings you back from blankly nodding off into his chest as he turns you around. You jerk back with a rapid fluttering of your eyelashes. 

“Yeah?” Your voice slurs, croaky, and you rub again at your cheeks with the corner of your blanket. “What’s up?”

Blue eyes blink down at you in shock at your state, small noise made in the back of the large man’s throat. “Hell’s this, then? Thought you were sleeping already.”

“Sleeping?” The tone is incredulous, a bit of sanity leaking back into your speech. You look up into your dad’s face and his tight beard; his eyebrows are curled in. “I’m not even close to being done. I can’t sleep yet.” 

John blinks slowly, gaze darting from the sizable bags under your eyes to the redness of your sclera—the veins that reach for your irises like infectious fingers. His grip on you tightens. 

“When’s the last time you took a break, Love?” He asks slowly, taking you by the shoulders and bending down a little. He looks concerned. “It’s bloody dark out.”

You stare and huff a sheepish, tired, smile while your dad’s expression tightens with exasperation. He blinks in disbelief at your non-answer, answer. 

“Fuckin’ hell…c’mon, Sunshine, off to bed.” Your head is already shaking.

“I’m hungry.” John sighs, and the air ruffles your hair. But he relents and before you know it there’s a hand on the back of your shoulders corralling you into the kitchen. You lean heavily into your father’s side, and his fingers curl over your opposite arm. 

A soft kiss is pressed to your head. 

“How long have you been up, eh?” You yawn and lick your lips. Flinching when John flicks the kitchen light on. Burrowing down into your blanket, you seep in his heat like a greedy lizard. “Sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” you’re guided over to the island and plopped down into a chair. “I need to finish my work.” 

He chuckles and you slouch over to fold your arms, resting your chin on them. “Well, I suppose you plan on finishing it half-asleep?” 

John opens the fridge, looking over the small remnants of supper. He frowns and turns to look at you as your face lays sideways on your limbs. You blink slowly at him.

“...Maybe,” you grumble, face hot. 

Your father grunts and closes the fridge, turning back around and crossing his arms. 

“No more of this, eh?” He begins, glaring and infecting his words with that infectious authority. “After we get you fed, you’re off to bed. That’s that.” 

You’re about to protest before your dad interrupts with a stern growl of your name. You grit your teeth and shamefully dip your head. There’s a moment of silence where the outside sounds of wind and creaking can be heard—the entire world asleep beside the father and daughter in the dim kitchen.  

John tilts his head and softens his face; feet carrying him over. Stopping beside you, he places his hand on your scalp and pats you gently, rubbing his thumb into your hair. Lashes flutter, and your body sags into the counter even more. Your father kisses your head and whispers, “You need your sleep, Sweetheart. This’ll do you no good. Pace yourself, you’ll get it done—I promise, yeah?”

“How do you know?” Your voice mutters, hesitation finally showing itself. Eyes stare at the table, red and dry. 

Your father chuckles and you glance back. He’s smiling in his own way, wrinkles showing and eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You’ve gotten this far. My girl’s not one to give it up. And even if you do,” he stands and pats your shoulder before he heads to the pantry. Your expression leaks slight confusion as he opens the door. “We can figure it out together. It’s not the bloody end of the world. It’ll pass.” 

Your internal anxiety eases at your parent's reassurance, his casual surety more of a blanket than the one you already swaddle yourself with. The subtle anxious shaking of your fingers stills after a moment of cognition. Stuffing down another yawn, you feel a warmth burn in your heart at the words and you smile. 

“When did you get all wise?” You tease, seeing John take out various ingredients as you watch. He scoffs.

“The second I got the call I was needed in hospital and had a damn daughter.” You laugh. 

“Alright, then,” your sarcastic reply slips out, and John chuckles lowly. After a moment you can’t stop your curiosity, no matter how much your limbs stay heavy. “What are you doing?”

A large bowl had been placed on the counter with a dull thunk. Blue eyes darted at you before measuring cups were spawned next to the previous object. 

“What’s it look like, then?” John’s finger casually points to a recipe that had been set up on the wall, a thin and damaged piece of paper with chicken scratch; stains, and crumpled corners. You blink at it in recognition.

“...Cookies?”

“You want chips or cinnamon?” 

Watching with wide eyes, you clear your throat and utter, “Uh, c-chips, I guess?” John grunts and focuses with a calm face. The recipe had been a sort of inside joke between the two of you. 

When your dad was off on assignment for long periods, you’d always make him a batch when he was set to leave and when he came back—a kind of soothing gesture to ease the uncertainty. To let him know you’d be alright without him here. 

He made them for you when you were sick or feeling bad. You blink quickly to dispel the sudden wetness of your eyes. 

“You helping?” John asks, not turning to you, as he dumps flour into the bowl. “Won’t taste right if you don’t.” A cheeky tone hits your ears. 

Standing, you shuffle over and grab at the chocolate bag, digging inside and stealing a few before your dad can stop you. He gives you a fake glare, huffing under his breath before smirking to himself.

Your body leans into his side and you giggle as he rubs his beard into your head. 

—

Hours later, you rest limply against your dad’s shoulder on the living room couch, empty plate on the coffee table and the TV low. You breathe softly and get the sleep you both deserve and need—of course, the work would start back up tomorrow, but it always would. Having your dad in your corner was the thing to keep you upright; your rock. 

John looks down and watches you with a deep well of affection and ease. He kisses your head before his arms reach around you, lifting with no problem. 

He carries his little girl, because that was what you would always be, off to bed and tucks you in. Snapping off your desk lamp with a small sigh of contentment and a low hum.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[ravenna-reid]

Admirer from the past... (Pt. 3)

TW: blood and extreme stalking/obsessive behaviour

Part Two here

You stood amongst the chaos; arms crossed and an expression that read complete and utter disbelief on your face. The stench of roses blood was imbedded into your nose, and the sickly feeling stirring in your stomach wasn't leaving any time soon.

"Fuck sake." Harry had been murmuring curses for the past 15 minutes as he continued looking around your once clean and untouched apartment. But now it looked like a snapshot of hell.

Red Robin had moved from beside you to collect evidence and clues, and Harry continued analysing the scene. But you were still stuck in the entry way of your apartment.

Your name was everywhere. Inky explosions all over your white walls, the style and size of handwriting changing as you went along. Most of the ink was black, but some of it was red and dripping...you didn't even want to know.

More black roses that were halfway to death were scattered across the floor, along with all of your paperwork. The worst thing by far though were the photos he'd left behind.

Photos of you at your usual cafe. In your office. On the pavement waiting for a cab. It made your stomach churn. And it made Tim blind with rage.

Tim, after placing a withered black rose and one of the pictures of you into an envelope, glanced in your direction. You had finally moved, gingerly making your way through the mess. Your gaze was trained on all of your hard work torn up and disregarded on the floor. You ran a finger along your couch before moving it to the walls were your name sat. Eventually, you lowered your head before shaking it.

"I can't fucking believe this." Your unease and disgust was soon replaced with resentment. You turned on your heel; your glare vicious and demanding. "This can't keep going any longer. I can't move again-"

"You won't have to." Tim was across the room and before you in seconds, his words spoken like an oath. "I'll make sure of it., I promise"

"But how? What do I do with this now?"

You gestured to your poor apartment, looking around at the countless strangers that were now in your home running their own tests and theories. Tim's white casing gaze remained on you, reading the frustration and fear on your face.

"I'll just have to clean it up. Organise it myself." You murmured.

It was all you could think to do. It was what you always did. When things went south, you would plan, re-organise, think and clean. Or drive yourself insane with so much work that you'd end up earning yet another certificate.

"No can do y/n." Harry stepped over a plethora of folders before reaching you and Red Robin. "This is a crime scene now. You're going to have to leave it to us for the time being."

You drew in a sharp breath as you turned to look back at it all.

Helpless. Tim felt completely helpless and he hated it.

"Do you have anywhere else to stay?" Tim asked.

You shrugged. "My friends are out of town, so I guess a hotel will do."

"You need money?" Harry asked.

You shot a deadened glare at Harry, forcing Tim to suppress a smirk.

"Sorry, right, I know." Harry quickly backtracked. "Just don't know what else to say."

"Yeah," You sighed, "Me either."

Tim immediately thought about his apartment. Immediately wanted to offer it to you. But he feared that he'd be coming across as too eager. Overbearing even, especially since you were dealing with this maniac.

You interrupted his thoughts. "I'm gonna go pack some things then. Can I go into my bedroom and bathroom Harry?"

"Yeah, he didn't do anything back there so it's all clear."

"Nothing in my bedroom...odd, but I'm grateful."

You moved past them both to go to your bedroom. The curtains were drawn and the once serene feel to it gone. And obviously, Harry wasn't as switched on as he used to be, because the photo of you and your friends that was stuck to your mirror was gone, along with your favourite silk dress and one of your pillows.

Rage simmered in your bones, but you kept yourself contained, only cursing under your breath as you moved around your room.

Your head snapped up once you heard the soft footsteps.

There Red Robin stood at the foot of your bed. He leant against the post, imitating someone who was confident and sure, but his body language said otherwise.

"You ok?" His voice was soft, and suddenly you were abundantly glad he was here.

"No. I can't believe how this has escalated. He disappeared for months and now this." You threw a pair of pajamas into your suitcase.

Tim battled with his nerves as he neared you. "Listen, I know you might not want to be around anyone right now, but...I have somewhere you can go."

You stopped what you were doing to settle your gaze onto him.

"Somewhere to go?"

He forced himself not to scratch the back of his neck, remembering that you would pick up on it instantly. "Yeah, an apartment. Don't worry, it'd be just you. But you could stay there as long as you like, and I could keep an eye on you."

He realised how it had sounded as the words left his mouth. Tim shook his head. "Not like that, obviously. I wouldn't be stalking you, but we don't know what this guy is gonna do next, and it's best I know where you-, you'll be safe."

The faintest of smiles tugged at your lips.

And holy shit, if only you could always look at him like that. Just you, forever.

Shit, what was he thinking?

"The elusive Red Robin isn't taking me back to his own apartment is he?"

Tim fumbled for a second too long. "It's safer than a hotel." He reasoned. "And like I said, I wouldn't be staying there...just you."

"But where will you go?" You came closer, folding a shirt in your hands as you waited for his response. "I don't want to put you out."

He had his little nook back at Wayne Enterprises and his bedroom at the Wayne Manor. He'd be fine.

Tim shook his head again. "I'll be fine. Trust me."

And you did. As crazy as it was, especially given the circumstances, you did trust Red Robin. More than you trusted the police even.

"Ok, let me finish packing first. I just need to get my make-up and-"

Tim had you by your arms in the blink of an eye. Pulling you with him, he swiftly pushed you against the wall, his body shielding your own before placing his gloved index finger on your lips. You were seconds away from back handing him with all of the rings on your fingers, but the simple notion of his finger to your lips kept you quiet.

You both stilled, his hold on you gentle yet firm. His breath was warm against your skin and your heart began hammering in your chest. But not as fast as Tim's. He thought he'd pass out being so close to you. But he knew what he heard. Was sure that it was your stalker. And he was eager to get rid of him.

Tim turned his head towards the door to your bathroom.

That was where the noise came from.

Your eyes followed his gaze before snapping back to him. Tim looked back at you, expression a mixed mess of determination and concern, to which you responded with a raised brow. Then you gestured towards your bathroom.

Go.

Tim nodded in agreement. Slowly moving his hands from your arms, he quietly motioned for you to stay put. And you nodded, even if you knew you were lying.

Tim didn't know whether he should kick the door down or try to sneak into the darkened room, but he went with the latter, gently opening the door before slipping into the bathroom. And that's when he saw it. The figure outside your bathroom window on the fire escape.

Tim sprinted through the bathroom towards the hunched silhouette and ripped the window open.

It was him. Just as Tim expected.

Anger coursed through Red Robin's veins as he launched at the man. Tim got a good hit to his face, a stream of crimson flowing from the corner of your stalkers mouth, but he used Tim's momentum to throw him off balance. Tim fell on his back hard, and the man took his chance to run down the fire escape.

"Y/n, one of my guys were just looking through your CCTV. Your crazy stalker only just found out where you live last night-" You hastily yanked at the sleeve of Harry's coat, dragging him out of your apartment.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Regardless of your lack of a response, Harry broke out into a sprint right behind you without hesitating.

"He's here!" You yelled out. "Come on Harry!"

Red Robin slammed into him, the pair falling down the last flight of iron stairs onto the cement. Tim got back on his feet again, but so did your stalker, and Tim soon realised he was a lot stronger and swifter then either of you had realised.

As the man went to escape, he brought down stacks of crates to block Tim's path. A rookie move, because Tim easily evaded it with his grapple before he was on foot again, chasing the man down the alleyway.

"Fuck you! You can't have her!" His voice was hoarse and his demand haunting, making Tim all the more motivated. Tim threw small metal balls towards him, thick smoke releasing on impact.

You and Harry were out of the apartment building and scouring the streets of Gotham in no time. The club music next door pounded in your head, along with the rush of your blood as you tried to make out where your stalker could have possibly gone. Where Red Robin could have gone.

"I think they're back here y/n!" Harry shouted from behind.

You whipped your head around and followed Harry down the alley way, your heels trudging through puddles and grime when suddenly, smoke appeared. Thick, grey smoke.

You and Harry slowed down and approach with caution before you watched as he ran out of it.

Him.

Your psychotic stalker. The man who has been giving you hell for so long. Your eyes met and instantly a chill ran down your spine.

He looked animalistic. Insane. A sickening smirk on his face as he looked back at you. But it fell short once Red Robin emerged from the smoke. Just as he did, two oblivious and intoxicated girls came into view, presumably from the club next door.

They were giggling and swaying, and your stalker wasted no time; slipping behind one of them, causing both girls to scream before he had a blade against oen of their throats.

Your hand launched for the gun hidden in Harry's holster, but his hand quickly grabbed yours to stop you. "No y/n!"

Everyone stilled, the sound of music, cars and stifled cries wandering through the night.

Your stalker leered at you, and you could read that terrifying face. That unnerving expression. Eyes darting between you and the gun, he almost dared you to do it. But then his eyes glanced over your form before he tilted his head, subtly gesturing to the weeping girl in his arms.

It'd be your fault. That's what he was saying. Her death would be on your hands.

You clenched your jaw, watching on in anticipation.

Red Robin's chest heaved with anger, his hand secured around his bō. "Let her go!"

"Let me go then..." He dragged out, his eyes flickering down to the handcuffs in Red Robin's free hand. "If anyone's gonna shackle me up, it's you pretty girl."

You grimaced, your hand tightening on the gun as Harry's tightened around yours.

"Ok, just let her go." Harry quickly reasoned, justifying his action with the fact that he was sure your stalker wasn't going to hurt you anytime soon. But the girl in his arms? The one that had a machete to her throat? Harry couldn't let her get hurt. He couldn't fail another person. The girl continued crying, her weeps ringing through the air. "Just let the girl go."

Tim looked over to you. Took in the hate in your eyes. And so did your stalker as he slowly backed away, the young girl still in his hold. "Tell boy wonder to stand down." He snapped.

Harry didn't say anything, he didn't have to. Tim was one of Gotham's protectors, it was his job to protect all of the civilians. So he stood down. And just like that, the man of your nightmares disappeared amongst the crowd behind the club, his victim now sobbing in her friends arms.

Tim wanted to go after him, no matter how frivolous it would be now that he was mixed amongst a mass of people, but his attention turned to you.

You let go of Harry's gun and placed your hands atop of your head, breathing heavily from the rush and anxiety of it all.

Red Robin made his way over to you. "What were you thinking?"

You assumed he was referring to you grabbing Harry's gun and went to respond until he cut you off again.

"I told you to stay inside y/n. He could have grabbed you!"

"Red Robin, he didn't-"

"But he could have. He was armed!"

You fell quiet, slightly taken aback with how much he truly cared. Tim was just mad he couldn't grab you and hold you so this freak couldn't go near you again.

Harry checked if the girls were ok, calling some of his men to come out and meet them at the club, just to make sure everything was ok. But his attention wavered to where you and Tim stood, tension simmering in the air as you both looked back at each other.

Harry let out a long sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's been a long night. You should go rest." Harry directed his tired gaze to Red Robin. "I can get someone from the station to escort her to your apartment."

Tim wanted to scoff. "Not likely. I can take her myself."

The drive back on the back of his motorbike was morbidly quiet. Your arms remained wrapped around him, your head resting on his muscled back. You could feel Red Robin's heart thumping, but kept it to yourself.

Tim's muscles grew rigid as he continuously thought back to what had just unfolded. He knew he was just angry at that guy. He knew he couldn't remain angry with you. Not even if he tried. All he could do from here on out was keep you safe and keep his promise. He let out a tired sigh before the tires on his motorbike came to a screeching halt outside a building. As you looked at the place you'd be staying at for the next couple of days, your jaw dropped.

Red Robin seemed to have forgotten to mention that his place wasn't some ordinary apartment. No, he owned a suite in one of the most prestigious hotels in Gotham.

"This is where you live?" You asked, slipping off his motorbike before he could offer his hand.

"Yeah," he pulled up his seat and grabbed your suitcase from the inside. "Come on, let's head in."

Before you entered the glass double doors and stepped upon the marble floors, you came to a halt, turning your head over your shoulder to look back at the street. To look at the alleyways looming before you, waiting to see his sickly face staring back at you.

"Hey," Tim grabbed your elbow, softly gesturing for you to relax. "It's ok, you're safe here."

"What if he comes?" You asked, and you couldn't hide the fear in your eyes anymore.

It made Tim's heart snap in half, but it also did something else. Some fervent need to protect you. To bring this stalker to justice. Deadly determination weighed down on him as he looked at you.

"He can sure try."

Part 4 soon ya'll, lmk what you think :)

[coochellati]

hi hi! Long time fan of your blog—and It’s really inspired me to write my own Bruno fic, any tips for a first time bruno writer?

HELLO!!! 💕

First of all, I just want to say thank you so much!!! Your kind words have made my day—no, my month. 😭🩷 AHHH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!!

Okay, so I have a big tip for writing Bruno, (or anyone, really,) and I learned it in Araki’s book, Manga in Theory and Practice. This is a technique he uses to make sure his characters are always acting “in-character.”

Every time Araki creates a new character, he fills out a character history sheet for them. It’s a basic sheet containing all sorts of important stuff such as their personality traits, dreams for the future, forming childhood experiences fears, etc., and he uses that sheet to figure out how his character would react to any given situation. In Manga in Theory and Practice, Araki includes a blank Character Sheet and an example of what a filled-out one may look like.

(this isn’t actually the original Dio character history sheet—Araki lost the OG. This version was made from memory. I don’t know if the original was actually this blank.)

Since Araki hasn’t released one for Bruno, I decided to make my own.

(This image is huge. HUGE. 6232 x 5519px!! Unfortunately, tumblr compressed it so you can’t read all the tiny writing :( can you tell I was an overachiever in school? Here’s a link to the uncompressed photo in Google Drive!!)

You are welcome to use this sheet if you’d like! (Anyone reading this is free to use it.) This sheet contains canon information as well as my assumptions/headcanons since Araki hasn’t given any kind of answer to some of these questions. You don’t have to agree with them. After all, everyone has their own interpretation of Bruno Bucciarati—this is just the way I see him.

Here’s how my process goes: whenever I put Bruno into a situation where I’m not sure how he’s going to react, I consult the character history chart.

For instance: what if Bruno is in a situation where he catches reader smoking weed?

This is something I haven’t always been sure as to what he’d do—I’ve changed my opinion on this multiple times. Weed is legal in many places, after all. However, after looking at my filled-out character sheet, I now have a more solid idea of how he could react.

Canon information: Bruno’s dad (his only immediate family) became injured because he witnessed a drug deal. (Which ultimately led to his death.) The way Bruno sees it, drugs killed his father. He also can get very worked up over matters that are personal to him, such as when Diavolo attempted to kill Trish, or when he caught Passione peddling drugs.

Using this information, I believe that Bruno is probably going to be very angry at reader, even if it is legal nowadays. It wasn’t very legal in 2001, and Passione likely trafficked weed on top of everything else. Sure, weed isn’t cocaine, but it was still a very stigmatized drug at the time.

(so yeah. Bruno would not be very thrilled about my love for Mary Jane… I’d quit for him. Also, this is just my assumption—it’s okay if you don’t agree with me. There are infinite ways to interpret a character, and your opinion is just as valid as mine.)

My advice to you is to fill out your own character sheet! Here’s a version that has no headcanons/assumptions if that helps :) (Unless you want to use mine, lol. But I know my word isn’t gospel, and you likely have differing opinions on him.) If you want to reword it entirely, here’s a full-res blank version!

Another reason I recommend this because you’ll really get to study his character. Being forced to think about his strengths/weaknesses, forming experiences, the relationships he has with others, or hell, even where he was born can really help form an idea of the character you’re writing. Through this exercise, I feel like I’ve gotten closer to Bruno. When it’s a character you love, filling this out feels like you’re spending time with them.

I’d also like to note that this character history chart is ever-evolving. As I continue studying Bruno's character, my opinions and mental images of him become clearer. It feels like I'm a sculptor carving a statue out of marble, gaining a more defined picture with each detail I learn. The sheet above reflects my view of him at this current moment in time, and it will likely change in the future.

Another tip I have for you relates to writing his dialogue. Bruno can be a little weird. For instance, he often speaks quite eloquently:

He’s very self-assured:

But then, there’s moments like this:

I recommend studying his speech patterns. Hell, I’m always learning more about the way he speaks.

I’ll leave you with this: In the end, there is no “right” or “wrong” way to write Bruno. How you write him is up to you, and your interpretation is just as valid as anyone else’s. Don’t worry about what others may think about your version of him—just do what feels right for you. Write Bruno the way you see fit. :)

I hope this helps!!!! Don’t forget to have fun. 💕

thanks for the ask!! <3

[olderthannetfic]

TL;DR: multiple people can arrive at the same fanfic idea/premise in different ways, but also, getting inspired by a different fanfic is not stealing, please don't gatekeep!

I joined a new fandom (it's Resident Evil (RE), which I'm mostly mentioning for that one 'nosy' anon because hell yeah I am super nosy as well, so here you go, dropping some names!), and I quickly stumbled upon one fandom-specific plot trope that I thought was both pretty neat but also super obvious (Infected!Character fic, which, in a world with zombies and viruses that cause zombies is a very logical trope).

Anyway, there was not quite as much body horror as I thought there would be, although I'm still looking, but that's not why I'm writing to you, that's just the (un)necessary background.

There was this one fic that I opened, which in its Author's Note clearly stated that the author set this fanfiction in another author's AU, because they loved the world created by this first author. The first fanfiction author basically came up with their own Infected!Character design and backstory (including fanart), and the second fanfiction author liked it so much they were now writing this fic based on/in that AU. Obviously not quoting the AN directly, but this second author was very complimentary and explicitly mentioned where they got the idea from, gushing about the first author.

In the AN for chapter two, the second author stated that they weren't aware that that first fanfiction author didn't allow others to write about the Infected!Character AU they'd made, that that first author in fact only allowed a very limited number of people they publicly approved of to write about their AU, and nobody else was allowed to touch the Infected!Character AU. This second author was now apologising in the AN for not knowing this, plus mentioning that they changed chapter one to switch up the backstory & design to not be too close to that of the first fanficton author's AU.

That made me sad, honestly. I've seen this attitude a couple of times, where fanfiction authors are super protective of their ideas that they won't allow any other fanfiction author to write about them, and it's always struck me as a little bit hypocritical, given the whole deal of fanfiction. Especially when the original/first fanfiction author is credited and the inspired work is clearly done because the second author loved the first fanfiction so much. If it's a highly developed/specific and original AU (so not just any common trope), and you don't even mention the fanfic you were inspired by, then I find that rude, but just flat out not allowing people to even touch 'your' thing? C'mon!

This partially ties into my other gripe about a specific type of comments I occasionally get, which are along the lines of 'huh interesting idea where did you get it? bc/btw there is this other fic with the same idea (posted before you)'; idk if I got the tone right, but they never seem to be actually genuinely asking how I got the idea (and I always delight in telling them, not sarcastically, I genuinely love talking about this stuff, bc I get inspired by the most random things and I love love writing 'original'/new things!! I love tropes as much as anybody, I read a shitton of them, but i when I write I love coming up with new shit/plot! it's so fun!!). They just vanish after my explanation, even when I try to invite further conversation. It always feels to me like they're 'checking' that I didn't steal the idea, and it feels a bit lousy.

I mean in (larger) fandoms, it is not surprising at all that two or three or even more people arrive at the same idea, maybe even inspired by the same thing, same reading of canon, or not, varied experiences--and just because the works are similar doesn't mean that they were inspired by one another, but if they are, that's not a sin! I just want people to not take everything in bad faith, and also, to not 'disallow' others from getting inspired, especially when they do it in a very polite manner!

It's because of comments like these that I sometimes, very privately, worry that before I'll manage to post the long fic I spent months writing--because I'm one of those who wants the thing finished before I start posting--somebody else will have a similar idea, post their thing first, and then I'll look like I'm lying about not reading/stealing their idea, or just jumping on the bandwagon, which again, it's not a bad thing, actually.

And it shouldn't be like that! I shouldn't worry, and people should also be more willing to accept that authors can arrive at the same idea at (roughly) the same time & accept that explanation without side-eyeing the author, and that if an author is inspired by a different fanfic, that's not a sin either (in fact, for me it would be an honour).

None of this is new either, but that RE stuff reminded me of it again.

Oh man, this is way longer than I thought it would be. Apologies. I'm going to add a TLDR at the start.

Anyway, I'm going to finish writing an Infected!Catboy!Leon fic now and be very unsurprised if I find out that somebody else has had the same idea long before me (aside from one or two reader fic inserts with that topic that I stumbled upon on tumblr, bc that's just not my thing at all (reader insert, I mean)).

--

In college, friends of mine had a falling out over one of them "stealing" the other's fic idea.

Space pirates.

Not specific space pirates. Not a way of integrating the concept that was fandom-specific. No, just the general idea of space pirates in the same fandom.

Never have I facepalmed so hard.