#him purposefully trying to /not/ be that smug and ignorant just for me and looking good in front of my parents?? *falls over*

[cupidkyu]

✧ﾟ･: A GOOD PET,OR A DISOBEDIENT ONE? which does he prefer?

REQUESTED

a/n: kinda disappeared srry guys 🧍🏻I promise I will try 2 make moree,,but yea an anonymous requested me with genshin/star rail men. . . but u can imagine it with any charc u like

sub!gn!reader x dom!male!charc

OBEDIENT . men who likes it when you're behaving right, being the good boy/girl you are. constantly praising and just slamming into your sweet spot as a reward. don't fight back, don't backtalk,all of that will just get you in trouble! he doesn't wanna punish a sweet thing like you. the way you clench around his cock when he's deep inside you, intertwining fingers with him.

your thighs are trembling and he's cooeing sweetly to you, whispering sweet nothings into your ears,you know he loves how angelic you look,he just can't resist you. you just lay there and take it like the good cockwhore you were for him,and just for him.

“you take me in so well, darling.. just a little more, yeah? you can? hngh—.. wouldn't wanna waste a single drop of you.”

jingyuan,cyno, neuvillette,heizou, aether,dan heng,boothill,,jiaoqiu,welt, zhongli,scaramouche,ayato,your faves

DIRTY BITCH . men who likes it when you're being bratty,who likes it when you're whining and complaining about him not giving you attention. he'd pretend to get annoyed and sigh at your dumb rambling. you're tugging on his sleeve as an attempt for him to shift his focus towards you,but he doesn't budge,no he doesn't. he wants you to act more and more disobedient so when he finally snaps,he can take it all out on you.

he's purposefully ignoring that specific spot, watching you struggle and insulting him. telling him to hurry up already. but once he does? oh dear..he's going crazy,fucking you like there's no tomorrow. he's looking down at you,his nails digging deep into your hips, reducing you to a whimpering and messy slut. your eyes roll back at the pace he's going,your waist,shoulders, anywhere he can get his mouth on bruised with hickies,he's smug about it too.

“whats wrong,baby? I know you can take it. for me,okay? mhmm..~ you feel so warm around me,you're so pathetic..”

tighnari,blade,wanderer, childe, venti,pantalone,kinich,wriothesley,your faves

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part 4 of my Imagines with Angel Dust

You sat down on the sofa in the hotel lounge, nursing your morning coffee and your ego. Almost everyone else seemed to have somewhere better to be that morning and you didn’t know where any of them had went. Even Alastor had disappeared in the early morning hours; you barely remembered the kiss he had left on your forehead as you sleepily mumbled some kind of words of endearment before he slipped away.

That left you alone in the hotel, once again, with only the company of Angel and Husk.

It was still relatively early when you had dragged yourself out of bed and without Niffty or Alastor to make a pot of coffee for everyone, you had taken yourself for a nice morning stroll and gotten an iced boba coffee and bagel before returning to the hotel – the people in Hell could be awful but at least there was decent fast food. The trip had killed some time and given you some space from the uncomfortably vacant hotel.

You caught the spider’s eye as soon as you walked into the room and though he pretended to look innocent as he took a seat next to you, you kept glancing at him over the edge of your newspaper. But he just sat there, scrolling through his phone, and looking bored. After a few moments you let yourself settle in and get lost in the morning paper.

“So who gives better dick?”

You choked on your coffee as Angel had purposefully waited until you were taking a hearty sip from your straw before asking.

“Who . . . what?!” you sputtered, still coughing up droplets of coffee with every breath.

Angel smirked.

“You didn’t exactly give me an answer the other night. Ssoooo . . . Alastor or his shadow? Who fucks you better?”

Of course.

Your face was already red from coughing so luckily you could easily disguise your blushing reaction.

Getting yourself composed, you raised an eyebrow at Angel.

“Alastor really could kill you, you know. Like . . . permanently. So that you don’t respawn.” You raised your newspaper up to your face, dismissing Angel and effectively ending the conversation.

You saw Angel’s fingers reach over the top of your newspaper and pull it down, revealing his smiling face just inches from yours.

“You’ve gotta tell me; how realistic can that thing get? It is all warm and silky like a real cock- ”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Husk said from his bar and stormed out of the room.

 “- or is it cold?” Angel continued, not letting himself be interrupted. “Cause I gotta say, those tentacles felt nice and cool. I bet it feels really nice once he gets you all hot and bothered.”

“You are a menace! And what makes you think his shadow and I have ever done anything like that?”

“Like I said,” Angel said with a smug look, “I know a guilty look when I see one. Sex is what I do, toots, so all I gotta do is keep flinging mud your way until I see something stick in your expression.”

“Angel,” you said, your voice low with warning. “Alastor will hurt you.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Angel shrugged and leaned away, looking at his phone and resting his back against the armrest of the sofa and spreading his long legs out intrusively across your lap.

You scoffed and got back to trying to ignore your friend. Several more minutes had gone by before Angel spoke up again.

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t care,” you say but Angel continued.

“He’s got total voyeur vibes. I bet he gets off watching you and his shadow getting it on.”

You sigh, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep your expression neutral.

Angel sat forward, his legs still across your lap, and squinted at you.

You side-eyed him, smirking a little at his attempt to read your face.

“Okay, okay,” Angel chuckled and nodded his head. “You’re getting better at this. Challenge accepted.” He made two of his hands into finger guns and winked at you. “This ain’t over, honey.”

You tried to play it cool and look confident but as you took a sip of your coffee, a boba got stuck in the straw and you fumbled awkwardly trying to dislodge it, your cheeks hollowing out with the effort.

“Wow, you really suck at sucking,” Angel said with a laugh.

“Well you won’t hear any complaints from me,” Alastor said from behind the couch and Angel scrambled quickly to get his legs off your lap, nearly falling off the couch as he did so.

“Fucking hell!” Angel shouted.

You didn’t react, since you were used to Alastor’s sudden appearances, but you did give a little half smile as Angel struggled to regain his composure.

“Good morning, my darling,” Alastor said, leaning over the back of the couch and you obliged him a quick kiss to the cheek.

“Oh, and Angel . . .” Alastor turned towards the still flustered younger man, letting his features twist into a glowing green, wide and malicious smile. “I like to watch my shadow do . . . all kinds of things.”

Angel never found out where it was he took you after that warning. Alastor simply whisked you away, making both your bodies disappear into black streaks that left the room. Probably to fuck but knowing Alastor, it could have all been just for dramatic display. It was just as likely that you two lovebirds were innocently sharing a morning coffee and catching up in another room.

The gangly spider demon sat alone on the sofa for a minute, unable to stop himself from looking nervously around the room, despite his earlier confidence that Alastor wouldn’t harm him.

After a few minutes, he finally stood, deciding he would feel a lot more comfortable if he had company and went to find where Husk had stormed off to.

Angel turned around and came face to face with Alastor’s shadow.

He just about pissed himself as it spread out, growing taller and wider, its unnaturally large hands reaching out above him, its smile even more unnerving than its master’s.

Instead of screaming, Angel was able to quickly collect himself, and with a suggestive smirk, leaned casually against the arm of the sofa.

“Well hey there . . . big daddy.”

Alastor’s shadow stopped midair, tilting its head at Angel and narrowing its eyes in what almost looked like annoyance before darting away.

Angel rolled his eyes.

“Pffftttt, what a bunch of prudes.”

Part 5

@inuhalfdemon @readergirlstuff @thereallsaturnstar @somefancybb @moonstarrs11 @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @speedycoffeedelight @saturn-alone @whoknowswhoiamtoday @quill-to-book

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 Sounds pretty good to me. Can I do one more? 🎶

Night after night, Josephine worked harder than any bar she’d ever been in. Val had been right, her pride and humor got more tips than the smoldering looks she was used to casting. So little by little, their nightly competition became tighter as it turned into some sort of shared ritual they waited for each day. 

Once the last patron was seen to the door they exchanged shared glances, at first instigated by Val, who knew that she would win just as she had the night before, and the one before that too. She always had a smug smile on her face when she asked Josephine to tally up her tips, the same one she invariably wore when her pile was still higher at the end of the night.

It was that look that taunted Josephine in bed at night, lying next to Gio and waiting for the next day to roll around so she could see it again; until eventually, she was the one taunting Valcita, telling her that tonight would finally be the night she would win. Until one night, she was right.

The odds had shifted ever so slightly, just enough that for once, Jo was the one who got to look over her pile of money with a smug smile. She jumped to her feet, letting her good nature take over her desire to stay and gloat. Without a word she rushed behind the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey. Lifting it triumphantly in the air, Val waved her away, prompting a confused and defeated look from Jo. Val’s answer came quickly and without unnecessary explanation, just as everything seemed to with her. “Don’t drink, never did.”

Jo hesitated and moved to put it back on the shelf where it belonged, but Val laughed. “No no, go ahead, don’t let me stop you. You won fair and square after all.”

It was easier than drinking at home, where even after a month had gone by, tension still lingered in the air like cigarette smoke. Everyone there seemed to tiptoe around her, trying to make up for the perceived wounds between them while ignoring the existential tick of a clock. It was in every one of their heads: a constant, ever-present reminder that their loan matured soon. It was easier to ignore here, even if the whiskey was the same and there was a clock in the corner chiming at the top of every hour.

On and on it ticked, but neither Jo nor Val noticed it, as Val rolled one cigarette after another and Josephine admittedly teetered past the point of a celebratory drink into drunkenness. It was simply too pleasant to hear the clock the way she did at home, so Josephine stayed until her bottle grew lighter and the melancholy drone of the hand of time faded in favor of a loud chime, one after the other signaling that it was 4 AM.

Suddenly she saw the thin sliver left in the bottle and registered just how bleary her eyes had become, not quite as used to drinking straight whiskey now at thirty-four as she had been a decade before. Half of her could already feel the headache setting in and hear the purposefully suppressed worry in Giorgio’s voice as she returned home. Fuck. Giorgio. She was usually pleased to know he waited up for her every night; but it would do her no good to push him to his breaking point now.

Jo mumbled some sort of half-hearted apology as she cut Val’s sentence short and stood to look for her gloves and hat. Whatever smug smile Jo had worn upon winning their game was now back on Valcita’s face, who watched her curse under her breath as she struggled to find her belongings. As she ran up the stairs to find them, Val watched her heels disappear and then looked down at her own feet and shook her head.

Before Jo could return the saloon door swung open and a man walked into the room. Val took one look at him and knew that he was in need of a stiff drink. “You missed last call, pal. No more being served here tonight.”

He straightened his collar and looked around, “I, uh, I’m not here for a drink. I’m here for Jo. She’s here, right?” Val looked at him again, seeing the worry in his eyes in a new light. She had been wrong. It wasn’t worry; it was jealousy. Jealousy mingled with inadequacy. She smirked, “You must be Jo’s beau.”

His eyes stopped roaming the room in search of Josephine and settled on the woman addressing him. He couldn’t have said why, but there was a tangible hostility coming from her, like she was assessing her competition and finding it lacking.

“Gio, what…what are you doing here?”

He tore his eyes away from the hard stare of the women he didn’t know to see Jo standing at the foot of the stairs, “I…well, it was getting late and I know you close ‘round midnight. I just…I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Or that, uh, you didn’t have to walk home alone so late.”

Josephine looked back to Val, who needn’t say a word for Jo to read the tone of her expression. He came to fetch you, like a little girl. To catch you in the act of whatever he convinced himself you were doing with another man. It would be a man, wouldn’t it, Josephine?

Josephine bristled under her gaze, unsure if it was the whiskey making her dizzy or if she had really just read that in Val’s expression. How could she know that Gio’s jealousies extended even into this small barroom where only two women sat, not a man to be found?

Josephine turned her gaze onto him, more sure of what she’d find there than if she continued to look into Val’s eyes. It was as easy with him as always, because it was written all over his face: the worry, the panic, the suppressed anger. His eyes told her that he had waited for hours, convincing herself that she had lied about working here, or maybe even found some John at the bar. Right after the clock struck three, he finally reached the conclusion that she wasn’t coming home at all. Of course she wasn’t. Not after what he’d done. He had to find her. To make sure she was still there, that she hadn’t left him like she’d threatened…

All of it was plain as day, reflecting off of him like moonlight on the sand. Jo could sense it, and she knew that Valcita could too. 

Josephine pulled her glove up higher on her wrist, as though in doing so she could hide how exposed she felt between the pair of eyes on her. After looking at Val and her cigarette one final time, she turned for the door and pushed past Giorgio and his lingering questions. She didn’t even bother to answer him, because through one lie, he had started a game with her that he was never truly armed to win.

All it took was one look for her to tell him that in coming here, he had shattered whatever peace he had bought back in the last month. Now he was right back at step one of apologies and deference. As she moved a gloved hand to the saloon doors, Jo didn't even bother to turn around to make sure that he was behind her, because she knew that he would follow her now no matter what. The clicking of his loafers on the floorboards told her that she was right, and about that, at least, she couldn’t help but smile.

[lixzey]

A snippet from The Name of the Game.

“What are you, a lesbian?” Sirius asked, frustrated at the girl who had avoided him the whole day.

His words caught you off guard, making you stop in your tracks. Sirius Black has been following you the whole day and you have had enough of him. You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow at his audacity. You had purposefully been avoiding him because of his arrogance, which was becoming tiresome. It had nothing to do with your sexual orientation, which was definitely none of his business.

“What did you just say?” You snapped, your voice laced with annoyance.

“I said, what are you, a lesbian?” Sirius repeated, his tone smug.

You scoffed, unable to believe his ignorance and lack of common sense.

“Don't you think you're just not my type?”

Sirius looked taken aback, the cocky smirk on his lips fading momentarily. He had assumed that every girl would be swooning over him, but you were different. You refused to be swayed by his charm and good looks. But instead of backing down, Sirius became even more determined.

“Come on L/n, tell me, how do I get you? How do I even win you? What’s your secret, huh?”

You were absolutely fed up with him, he was getting on your nerves and it made you want to just punch him, but you decided to play along with his little game.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you stepped forward, a seductive look in your eyes. You grabbed Sirius' tie, pulling him closer, making him gulp nervously—clearly not expecting you to do that. You stood on your toes, trying to reach his full height.

“Well, that’s a secret I don’t tell little boys.” you whispered in his ear, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. “The question is, are you man enough to find out?” You let go of his tie and took a step back, a smug smirk that could rival his spread on your lips, before sauntering away.

Sirius stood there, flabbergasted. He had never met a girl like you before, and it was both frustrating and intriguing. You had a confidence and independence that he found both maddening and irresistible. He had never been rejected like this before. He couldn't believe that you were the only person who was immune to his charms.

The plan to make Y/n L/n was a bit harder than he initially thought.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @imnotoverlyobsessive @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @lizzxoxo @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @danni-phant0m @haybellewrites @cloudlst @ev3ningrain @si4a @ttulipwritezz @bambikitten @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @abruuinlove @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

[aka-indulgence]

AGGRESSIVE ENCOURAGEMENT

Thank you @vixenrose-64 for commissioning! This was a joy to write, I love nice UF!Papyrus hehehe

(UF!Sans x Reader, UF!Papyrus & Reader Gender non-specific, no content warnings)

You’ve liked Sans. No scratch that, not like- you love him. (It’s so weird to admit it to yourself…)

You thought you were ready to tell him that, but seeing him sitting on that bar stool has glued your feet to the ground and you’re starting to worry that you’ll chicken out…

Thankfully, a hero in a flowing crimson cape has come to shove save you.

———————

Cars whizz by you, the sun was just starting to set. It was still warm out- yet, your fingers were cold to the touch, your stomach tied in knots. And weirder still, you were sweating down your forehead. You check your phone for the thousandth time, opening the message that has been plighting you for the last few minutes.

You: Hey Sans, you up for Grillby’s today?

Sans: 👟

Sans: what time?

You: Maybe in

You: 15 mins? Im on my way

Sans: ok

He responded as usual; curt and nonchalant, it was what you were used to. He was more expressive face to face, you knew he wasn’t purposefully trying to sound disinterested but- you wish you could read his tone right now. You bite your lip and look up to see him already at the bar, nursing a drink. Maybe you should’ve messaged him when you were sure you’re ready, it’s just- Sans doesn’t usually show up on time, let alone early. You thought you were ready when you sent him that text, but when you saw Sans’ back through the window… your confidence drained.

Even from behind your heart flutters… you’re down baaad, and it excites the butterflies already in your stomach.

Come on (Y/n), walk in. It’s that easy.

…

I can’t walk in.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“eeeEEEEK!”

You almost jump clear out of your shoes when you suddenly find a presence beside you. You turn around to see an angry red eyelight staring at you from above from within intimidating dark sockets. Papyrus stood there, gloved hands crossed in front of him, judging you with that withering gaze, jagged scowl set deeper than usual. He wore a sleek leather jacket and a shirt, accented by his trademark red scarf.

He looked grumpy, but… didn’t he always?

“Oh my god Papyrus,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face, “don’t scare me, I thought you were Sans for a second…”

You thought he’d teleported to you when he saw you. You could feel the heat in your cheeks fade away as you calmed down.

“OH REALLY?” he inquired, “WHAT’S THE MATTER, DISAPPOINTED?”

You blinked. “Disa… whuh? Why would I be?”

“THAT I’M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND?”

You spoke too soon. The heat returned to your cheeks- you knew exactly what he meant but- how did he know?

You decide to feign ignorance.

“Pfft, what’re you talking about, Paps? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“SANS.” Papyrus replies lightning fast, stopping you in your facade. You really don’t have a reply to that.

He smirks. He’s caught you and he knows it.

“N… I… I’’m not dating him,” is what you decided on, denying by not telling the whole truth. Papyrus, however, squints his sockets in a way that reminds you of a teacher pressing you about a slip up you’re trying to cover up.

You crack, just a little. “A-at least… not yet…?”

“HM.” Papyrus smirks. “I KNEW IT. YOU’RE TRYING TO CONFESS TO HIM RIGHT NOW, AREN’T YOU?”

You make a sound akin to a mouse about to cry, hiding your face in your shirt. Usually Papyrus gets impatient when you don’t answer him fast enough, but from his smug expression you think he’s savoring the fact that you’re turning into a boiling tea kettle at his observation.

“How’d… why do you know?” You ask, actually desperate to find the answer. Papyrus merely scoffs.

“OH YOU POOR THING,” He says patronizingly, “YOU COULDN’T BE ANY MORE OBVIOUS. DID YOU THINK YOU HID IT WELL? I CAN SEE YOU TURN INTO A TOMATO WHENEVER YOU’RE AROUND MY BROTHER.”

You feel the strength leaving your knees. You wanted to sink into the ground and hope Papyrus forgets about all this. But Papyrus has no time for your mortification.

“SO. WHY ARE YOU STANDING HERE THEN?”

You suppose there’s no point pretending anymore.

“I don’t know Pap… I’m just… scared. He doesn’t seem the type to jump into committed relationships, but it’s not just that. I just… don’t know how he’ll respond? I don’t want to ruin things with him if he doesn’t see me like that. What if I weird him out? I…”

You pictured that handsome shark grin and sigh heavily. “He’s… hot, ok?? He’s smooth, he’s a flirt, and… he could just get any hot bod in this town by blinking. I just wonder if he’s out of my league, I don’t know if he’d want to… settle with… me..?”

You startle when Papyrus leans down to your eye level- almost bending at a perfect 90 degree angle, squinting at you. His jagged teeth were pointed downwards, and you could feel the scrutiny. He looks more mad…? You can’t tell honestly- knowing Papyrus he might just be thinking deeply. You feel anxiety whispering, telling you that Papyrus is going to confirm your fears-

“THAT’S THE MOST ASININE THING I’VE EVER HEARD FROM YOU, HUMAN.”

“Um… huh?”

Papyrus shakes his head. “YOU’RE SMART, HUMAN, BUT… YOU’VE GOT IT ALL WRONG.”

Before you could manage a timid “what,”, Papyrus rounds on you.

“YOU REALLY THINK SANS IS OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE?”

Flummoxed, you glance left and right. “Y… yes…?

“WRONG!” You jump, “YOU ARE OUT OF SANS’ LEAGUE. NEXT THING YOU’LL SAY IS THAT YOU DON’T KNOW IF SANS LIKES YOU.”

“... He does?”

It’s as if those two words exploded something in Papyrus’ skull, because his jaw drops.

“DOES HE- HMPH! AND I THOUGHT SANS WAS THE COMEDIAN.” Papyrus frowns, as if he’s offended you’d ask such a thing. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT BONEHEAD TALKS ABOUT YOU? YOUR NAME RINGS IN MY SKULL WHEN SANS TALKS!”

He shakes his head. “‘DOES HE LIKE ME’... TCH. HE’S ALWAYS A SHOWOFF AROUND YOU. TRYING TO MAKE YOU LIKE HIM MORE SOMEHOW. I CAN’T BELIEVE THE BOTH OF YOU COULD BE SO DENSE- HE DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE HIM.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You were going to cry if he did.

“IT’S INFURIATING HOW MUCH HE SHOWS OFF WITH YOU. I’LL GIVE YOU THIS WARNING NOW, HUMAN, HE’S TRYING TO RUSE YOU INTO THINKING HE’S HOT STUFF.” He leans towards you, whispering “He’s A Fucking Nerd.”

Your mouth opens. Papyrus doesn’t curse.

“But… isn’t that how Sans is like? He flirts and tries to get in bed with you?”

Papyrus shakes his head.

“HE’S… EUGH. IN LOVE.” Papyrus makes a face of comical disdain, “I KNOW WHAT SANS IS LIKE WHEN HE’S ONLY FLIRTING FOR A GOOD TIME. WITH YOU… HE DOESN’T FLIRT WITH YOU. IT’S MORE LIKE HE’S… PROPOSING.”

“I- propose?!”

Papyrus pretends he didn’t hear you. “IF YOU AREN’T AFRAID OF THE ICKY REAL SANS STUFF… He Might Even Get Mushy With You… GO FOR IT. I THINK YOU TWO WOULD BE A SICKENINGLY SWEET COUPLE, ENOUGH TO ROT MY BONES, BLARGH. WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT THE WEDDING, TELL ME, I’VE ALREADY GOT A WHOLE ALBUM OF IDEAS FOR IT.”

You can’t help but laugh. You couldn’t tell if Papyrus is disgusted or delighted by you and Sans becoming an item- could be both. He’s entirely certain that you were made for each other and against your earlier doubts, you could feel your confidence returning.

“LOOK AT THAT,” Papyrus points aggressively towards Sans. “YOU’RE EVEN MAKING HIM WAIT, I- EVERYONE WAITS ON SANS, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. ARE YOU STILL WORRIED HE MIGHT NOT LIKE YOU WHEN HE’S EARLY FOR YOU?”

You giggle nervously. “I guess… it is hard to believe that.”

“RIGHT!”

“I shouldn’t keep him waiting, should I?”

Papyrus’ face lights up as you turn towards the fireman’s pub, a renewed fire burning in your eyes. You almost take a step forward when you stop in your tracks.

“Wait a… Papyrus, why are you here?”

“NYEH HEH…” Papyrus snickers, “SANS WENT IN A HURRY EARLIER. TOLD ME YOU INVITED HIM TO MEET UP. SMILING FROM NON EXISTENT EAR TO NONEXISTENT EAR! HE DESCRIBED THAT YOU GAVE HIM A SUDDEN INVITE FOR THE VERY NEAR FUTURE, AND I CONCLUDED THAT YOU MUST BE TRYING TO CONFESS, SO HERE I AM.”

You stare at him.

“I’M HERE TO WATCH.”

This. Was the worst thing ever.

“HEY, I ALREADY KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, SO YOU NEEDN’T WORRY ABOUT MY REACTION, NYEHEHEH! YOU’LL BE TOO FOCUSED ON SANS TO SEE ME PEEKING IN ANYWAY. YOU’RE GOING TO DO GREAT.”

He gives you an affectionate (albeit rough) pat on the shoulders. “BREAK A LEG, FUTURE IN-LAW.”

He winks.

You felt like you wanted to combust right there. Your only response was a “Hhhhhh,” as you sped-walked towards Grillby’s, eyeing the skeleton at the bar.

You’re doing this. And it’s going to go WELL!

[caladhel-iarian]

Say It Like You Mean It

Emet-Selch inspects the selection of drinks with a critical eye. A splash of scotch here, a tankard of foamy ale there, a finger of neat gin with a sprig of rosemary…

Ah .

His hand is already reaching for the whiskey a split second before his eyes register what they’re seeing. If he has truly resigned himself to an evening of Azem’s incessant chatter and Hythlodaeus’ constant teasing, he has a feeling he will need a glass of something strong–and possibly the rest of bottle to follow. One of the two idiots is already grinning at him unabashedly while the other does a fine job of pretending at propriety.

If, of course, one ignores the impish glee in his eyes that says he’s already concocted some new and terrible scheme. 

As the attendant moves on to the next table, Emet-Selch sighs and takes a sip of his whiskey to bolster his nerves before he arches a brow at Hythlodaeus.

“Well?” he prompts. “Are you going to share this juicy gossip of yours or aren’t you?”

Insufferable as ever, Hythlodaeus only mirrors Azem’s grin. With one hand cradling the drink he’d all but demanded in exchange for his information, he holds Emet-Selch’s eye and enjoys tiny sips from the sparkling wine. Exceedingly tiny sips. Exceedingly tiny sips that don’t appear to empty the glass at all.

Emet-Selch grits his teeth. Those sips, he is swiftly realizing, are purposefully designed to drive him straight up the wall.

And damn him, it’s working.

“Patience,” Hythlodaeus drawls, “is a virtue, Most Esteemed Emet-Selch.”

Emet-Selch scoffs. “I have no time for virtues,” he retorts. “I have plenty of work to do and that does not include sitting around with baited breath while you malinger in your melodramatic revelations. If you–”

“Ah, but all work and no play makes Azem terribly sad,” Hythlodaeus counters with annoying cheer. Beside him, Azem’s enthusiastic nods are nearly enough to snap their neck and belie the big, sad eyes glued to him. 

With herculean effort, Emet-Selch ignores them.

“Our duty to Etheirys,” the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect continues, “though important–! can wait while we celebrate our dear friend’s happy return. After all–” He tips his wine glass in Azem’s direction as though intending to toast the miscreant. “We have so little time with one another these days. And I plan to make the most of it before we fulfill our promise and return to the star together.”

Emet-Selch swears he feels his teeth cracking as his jaw clenches. His knuckles whiten around his glass.

“Yes, well,” he grinds out, shooting Azem a dirty look. They only lift their brows in return, the picture of innocence. The effect reminds him of an owl. “That assumes we live long enough to see that blessed day come.”

He waits. A heartbeat. Two. It takes about ten seconds before his words really sink in.

“Hey!” Azem splutters, spraying grape juice everywhere. They bolt up straight from their lazy spawl and swipe a hand across their chin, frowning at the Third Seat. “Are you trying to imply that I’d get us all killed?”

He gives them a withering look that has them quickly averting their eyes and clearing their throat.

“Oh, please. As if you have not dragged us into countless dangerous situations,” he says, his voice coated with sarcasm and disdain. “You are a magnet for trouble, Azem. Frankly, it is an absolute miracle you have survived this long.”

“No, it’s isn’t,” Azem replies, and their smug smile has him torn between wanting to throttle them and licking the drop of grape juice from their lips. “Lady Luck loves me. I’m her favourite.”

Hythlodaeus’ quiet laughter breaks the tension. “I can see why,” he agrees, eyeing Azem with no small amount of admiration and interest. “That just-crawled-out-of-bed hair and those rumpled robes are quite fetching on you.”

“Thank you,” Azem chirps, oblivious. “That’s very kind of you, Daeus.”

Emet-Selch rolls his eyes. “Lady Luck has peculiar tastes, then,” he mutters into his glass. He downs another mouthful of whiskey, using the alcohol to keep his tongue busy before it can say something incredibly stupid. Something like But she will have to get in line because her favourite flavour was my favourite flavour first.

“Yeah?” Azem challenges him, their tanned cheeks reddening as Hythlodaeus continues looking them up and down. “What does that say about your tastes, huh?”

The whiskey burns as it travels down the wrong pipe and Emet-Selch coughs, his eyes widening in sudden concern. Has this complete fool somehow learned to read minds?

“W-What?” he gasps, covering his confusion and unease with his trademark scowl. “What is that supposed to mean?” He dabs at his chin with a napkin and turns his head away, his nose in the air. “I have no particular tastes, I will have you know. I simply have high standards.”

“Remarkably high,” Hythlodaeus agrees, and there’s a note in his voice that has Emet-Selch narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “How fortunate the sun is the highest thing in our world, hm?”

Cheeks slightly flushed–and by Etheirys, he hopes Hythlodaeus mistakes it for the blush that accompanies alcohol, though his hopes, admittedly, don’t soar high–Emet-Selch huffs. The glare he offers the Soul Seer tells the other man that the implications of his subtle ribbing have been perfectly understood and are equally unwanted.

At least by one person at the table, anyway. Those implications have apparently flown straight over Azem’s head without ever stopping to roost. And that is just the way Emet-Selch prefers it.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, downing more whiskey to hide his discomfort.

“Oh, but if I were to shut up,” Hythlodaeus trills, “you would never hear that absolutely fascinating bit of gossip I picked up recently. And I assure you, it is something you will not want to miss.”

A long-suffering sigh escapes Emet-Selch. Hythlodaeus, blast his hide, knows exactly how to bait his curiosity and reel him in. When he isn’t leaving him writhing on the hook, that is.

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “Spill it, then. Before I change my mind about this whole affair and leave you both here to drag yourselves home later.”

“We-e-ell…”

Emet-Selch swallows a groan. He’s known Hythlodaeus for over a century and the first thing he ever learned about his friend was that his sly grins never mean anything good.

“I have it on good authority that a certain someone–due to his stubborn nature and unfortunate sense of decorum and embarrassment–missed a perfectly mind-blowing evening last night with an exceptional ray of sunshine,” says Hythlodaeus. “Complete, I was told, with smooth jazz.”

Emet-Selch stares at the other man with a mixture of confusion, horrified fascination, and an undeniable sense of mounting dread.

“Are you… Are you telling me that I missed out on a night of… jazz?” he echoes. This is the interesting gossip Hythlodaeus has been alluding to all afternoon? A night of jazz? He can listen to jazz in his own home whenever he pleases–

“In a manner of speaking.” Hythlodaeus’ fingers trace the rim of his glass in slow, continuous circles. Every rotation creates a soft squeak that sets Emet-Selch’s teeth on edge. “But the jazz was not the important part, Emet-Selch.”

“I hate jazz,” Azem interjects.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes and, instead, spares Azem a brief, exasperated glance.

“Noted,” he says dryly, before returning his attention to Hythlodaeus. “But I fail to see how missing an evening of jazz equates to missing a mind-blowing night.”

“I was there,” says Azem.

“Yes, thank you,” sighs Emet-Selch. “I fail to see how missing an evening of jazz with someone I could not care any less about equates to missing a mind-blowing evening.”

“Ow.” Lips curled in a winsome pout, Azem rubs their chest, directly over their heart. They brighten up a moment later when Hythlodaeus gently pats their hand.

“Ah, well,” says the Bureau’s Chief, his eyes gleaming dangerously in the restaurant’s mood lighting. “Perhaps I should also mention there was nudity involved.”

The sudden sputtering has several diners at nearby tables turning in their direction. Emet-Selch coughs until he’s certain he’s lost a lung, his throat and chest burning from the unexpected whiskey. He does his best to ignore the stares leveled his way, but he feels the eyes boring into him, curious and condemning by turns. Ignoring puzzled glances is a skill he acquired only a few weeks after meeting the gremlins currently having dinner with him, and it’s a skill he isn’t sure he appreciates developing. When no other disruptions seem forthcoming from his table, the other diners return to their meals.

“N- Nudity?” he hisses in a strangled voice. “You are joking, right? This has to be a joke.”

“Not at all,” Hythlodaeus demurs. “I never joke.” He doesn’t bother acknowledging the incredulous noise that crawls its way up Emet-Selch’s throat and out into the world. “There was nudity and, my source confided, a full bottle of someone’s favourite wine.”

“It tastes like dzo piss and vinegar,” Azem chimes in, and their face scrunches up the way it does after they eat something sour.

Emet-Selch's sharp frown goes blissfully ignored by its intended recipient. 

“First, I do not ever want to know why you know how dzo urine tastes,” he snaps. “And second, that wine is an acquired taste only appreciated by those with the most refined and discerning palates. That is… I can’t understand why anyone, even an idiot, would waste an entire bottle of it on… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at the table, his companions, the whole restaurant and the city at large. Why would anyone ever use such an extraordinary wine to get wasted and nude? It boggled the mind.

“Ah. That is the unfortunate part.” Hythlodaeus heaves a dramatic sigh. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head and tsks softly. “You see, that wine was not drunk nor the smooth jazz enjoyed because the esteemed personage for whom they had been prepared never bothered to show up.”

“I was lonely,” Azem agrees, nodding.

Emet-Selch has always believed he knows the limits of his patience. The last century has seen it pushed, pulled, stretched and compressed. Though he knows ire is a sliding scale and the goalposts can be moved at any time, he also knows that scale always operates within certain bounds. He has always thought he could confidently say he’s seen it all, that he knows just how annoyed he can get. He also thinks he is usually good about heading off his temper before it takes a nose-dive over a cliff.

But Emet-Selch is wrong and tonight is proving that to him. His irritation is reaching new and unusual heights the longer he listens to Hythlodaeus’ drivel peppered with Azem’s accompanying remarks. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he notices the throbbing in his temples and resolves to drop in at the apothecary for some aspirin on his way home.

“...You are telling me,” he says in the tones of someone reaching the end of his tether and accelerating, “that someone went through the trouble of preparing a romantic evening complete with wine and jazz and… and nudity , and they are upset because I wasn’t there?”

“Hm.” Hythlodaeus hums, tapping his lips as if in deep thought. “When you put it that way, then yes. I suppose that does sound similar, doesn’t it.”

Setting his glass carefully aside, Emet-Selch groans and buries his face in one hand. What he wouldn’t give for the floor to open up and swallow him right now. A combination of frustration, disbelief, and something that feels a little too much like guilt to be comfortable washes over him and he rubbed his eyes, wishing he had chosen to work overtime instead of leaving his office. 

“This is absurd,” he mutters, his words muffled by his palm. “Why on earth would someone go through all that trouble for me?”

“I’m sure I can’t imagine,” says Hythlodaeus. He glances at Azem, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Can you, dearest Azem?”

“Because I wanted to fuck,” says Azem. “But you never showed up.”

Emet-Selch’s head immediately snaps up, his eyes widening and his face deathly pale. He stares at them in complete and total silence for several seconds while his brain tries to process what he’d heard. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly, repeatedly, and his tongue scrambles for something–anything–to say.

“You… You what?” he finally manages. It’s little more than a whisper.

“I wanted to fuck,” Azem repeats. “Bump uglies. Get down and dirty. Do the horizontal tango. Make the beast with two backs. Do the hippidy-dippity. Shake the sheets. Get my corn ground.” 

To Emet-Selch’s rising horror, they make a wide circle with their forefinger and thumb, then poke the finger of their other hand through the hole to illustrate.

“Bake a cream pie,” they tell him and anyone else with ears in the nearby vicinity. “Glaze the doughnut. Put the sour cream in the burrito. Assault with a friendly weapon. Dip the wick. Walk the snake. Hide the salami. You know. Fuck. ”

Beside them, Hythlodaeus presses a fist to his lips to stifle his laughter. When that doesn’t work, he tries a napkin.

Emet-Selch is reasonably certain his face has caught fire. His cheeks burn darker and hotter as Azem continues rattling off various euphemism, most of which he has never heard in his life and all of which he could have happily done without ever hearing. The longer they go on, the more he regrets ever being born and Hythlodaeus’ barely suppressed laughter is not helping anything.

“Yes, yes, I understand!” he blurts, desperate to stop Azem’s litany of lascivious language. “No need to go into further detail!”

“Get that daily dose of vitamin D,” Azem replies.

Emet-Selch chokes on air.

“Are you sure?” Hythlodaeus’ voice is sugar sweet, but his eyes glint evilly. “I must admit, I am curious to know what other delightful terms our Azem has learned in their travels.”

“Ride the bony pony,” Azem supplies helpfully.

Emet-Selch emits a sound somewhere between a mortified groan and strangled gasp, his eyes so large they nearly engulf his face. They dart around the restaurant, checking on other diners while he silently prays that no one else has heard Azem’s contributions to this horrible conversation. Hythlodaeus, damn him, is fighting a losing battle to keep his face straight; Emet-Selch can see the tears of laughter glistening on his cheeks.

“Board the train to pound town,” says Azem just as the attendant walks by and Emet-Selch feels his soul leave his body.

“Stop,” he pleads, his voice hoarse. He holds up one hand, palm out in surrender. “Please. Just stop.”

[banoonagrams]

Sandy Waters — Chapter One

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Summary: The Jedi Council is absolutely done with the feud occurring between you and Anakin Skywalker. So, what do they do? They pair the two of you up on an important mission. But what they really did is force two people who have hated each other for years into close proximity with one another. For several days. Alone. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Anakin being his own beautifully annoying self

You hold your breath as the doors into the Council room move smoothly into the wall, granting you entry for your meeting with your superiors that you had hurriedly scheduled upon seeing who was joining you for one of the most trying missions along the course of your Jedi career. 

“Why is it that you wish to speak to us? I can feel the tension in your Force signature,” Plo Koon says to you, a neutral but concerned look in his eyes.

“I’d like to speak of my partner that has been placed with me for my upcoming assignment, Skywalker.” You hide the sweat that’s beginning to form on your hands by placing them inside of the sleeves of your dark robes.

“Speak what about him, will you?” Yoda inquires, leaning on his cane in an intrigued manner while sitting in his thoroughly cushioned chair.

“Of us being paired together on the assignment in regards to the thug lord on Hosnian Prime.”

“If you are experiencing any qualms, know now that your pairing with Skywalker was no accident.” Windu’s voice had a slight edge to it, which wasn’t unusual. What surprised you was his sudden exclamation that you and Skywalker were put together intentionally, as you had thought that the members knew of your rivalry with the smug faced man.

“I— If I may ask, why would you purposefully put us in the same room as each other?” You were utterly bewildered, your brow raised in surprise. The council must be a lot less wise than you had thought they were.

“Are you questioning our methods?” Dank farrik, this was already going wrong.

“Oh, no! Of course not, Master Windu. I was just going to suggest that I could perhaps be traded into a different… grouping, of sorts? I wholeheartedly think that the mission would run much smoother.” Windu sighs, pinching his nose disappointedly.

“This is not a discussion, young padawan,” he states, stoic as ever and already knowing how this meeting would end.

“I understand, Master, but I truly don’t think that this mission will go as well as it could be if I was paired with someone else—“

“As a Jedi, you do know that peace and balance are important throughout the galaxy, and are an important way of life for those inside of the Order, yes?”

“Yes, completely. But—“

“So then you understand that you need to make peace with Skywalker.”

Peace with him? He had become even more insufferable after he had been denied the rank of master Jedi. Of course, you wouldn’t deny that the look on his face after the fact was absolutely priceless, but the aftershocks of his rejection were starting to get to you. Every minuscule detail about him that had annoyed you previously had practically doubled in his efforts to prove himself to the rest of the Council, his need for praise in full throttle.

The room had gone quiet, something you were all too familiar with when it meant that Windu and the rest of the Council were obviously done speaking with you. You lower your head, the conclusion of your meeting going completely different than you had anticipated. Skywalker was an ignorant piece of bantha fodder that you could barely tolerate being around, much less stuck in a tiny ship with for a few days. With a dissatisfied sense of defeat, you turn the other direction to walk out of the sliding doors to begin to pack the few belongings you would need for your mission, but not before hearing something else from the Council.

“The two of you may be more similar than you think. Skywalker had the same conversation with us minutes before you came in.”

Son of a bitch. He had beat you to it. What were you thinking? Of course he had. His obnoxious obsession with having to be first at everything probably had him sprinting here to arrive before you.

“Do try to reconcile with Skywalker. The two of you could achieve great things if you simply worked with one another.” Yeah right. As if that ape in robes would ever be capable of doing anything related to working in a team.

When you were younger, everything you did seemed to be a competition to him. In what was supposed to be a simple sparring match, he’d almost knocked you out, leaving you with a nasty lump on your head and a trip to the infirmary. When you were researching a topic for a mission that you had found out about on your own and could potentially score you some points with the Order, you found him in the library, already claiming that it was all his idea to an eons-old librarian there. With the amount of gossip she partook in every day, the tale of ‘Anakin’s brilliant research’ was already being spoken of in all corners of the temple. On that day, you had to meditate in your room for over two hours straight just so that you wouldn’t wring his bronzed little neck.

And now, on the mission that could potentially bring you the closest you’ve ever been to becoming a Jedi Master, he was going to be a thorn at your side the entire time. For many padawans, the style of mission that would determine whether they would be promoted normally included being grouped with another student for a job increasingly important than any of their previous solo ones. These could go from assignments such as rescuing an ally political figure, being judged on how well you handled said assignment, to how you both react in a tense public situation, testing your patience and morals. You know for a fact that Skywalker will be incredibly overeager on every step of this mission in order to make himself look good, his hurt pride letting him go leaps and bounds worse in a team-player situation. Maker, your patience truly was being tested in any direction you turned.

You storm your way over to the dormitories, wanting to get this mission over and done with as soon as possible, heading through the halls with your mind just about boiling over. You’re about to open the door into your room when, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a disgustingly familiar figure heading down the corridor. Narrowing your eyes and closing the difference between you two, you immediately accuse him of the first inconvenience that you can think of, because he wholeheartedly deserved it.

“You idiot! I would have been able to convince them to seperate us if you hadn’t gone in there first and mucked everything up.” With the intensity of how hard Skywalker rolls his eyes, you’d think they’d drop back into his skull. He crosses his arms defensively, his Nerf leather vest  squeaking in the process, before speaking.

“I had them debating among themselves when I left, so you must have made such a terrible speech that this nightmare,” he beckons back and forth between you both in a derogatory fashion, “is happening. Oh, and good evening to you, too, by the way.” His voice was practically oozing with sarcasm.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say, seeing right through his little plastic greeting.

“My apologies for being sociable, which is a skill I know that I’ve mastered more than someone I know.”

“You’re not being sociable, you’re just being an ass, and you know it,” you say, already completely done with him for the day after two minutes of being around him. “You’re obviously just trying to practice your holier than thou routine after you were oh so sadly denied the rank of Master. They’ll see right through it too, y’know.”

“See? This is what I mean. Are you capable of any other setting besides ‘snarky,‘ or is that the only emotion that you have?” He shifts his weight to one leg. “And I’m definitely going to be jumping up in rank soon enough, young one.”

“We’re practically the same age.”

“There’s that snark again,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and balling your fists into tight, angry and potentially destructive balls at your side, screaming internally before you open your eyes again, a smile plastered onto your face.

“You know what? I don’t have to deal with this right now,” you say, shaking your head and rubbing your fingers on your temples annoyedly. “I’m going to try and make the most of what’s left of today before I have to withstand you after we take off tomorrow.”

You turn around and take another step into your doorway, the whoosh of it opening making the hair on your head move the slightest amount. The chilly, relaxing air helped to cool off some of the steam coming out of your ears.

“That might be the first good idea you’ve had since I met you.” The unfounded, arrogant little smile on his mouth that he’s already used a hundred times this month is making its appearance yet again. He’s just asking for a blaster bolt straight in the kybers, isn’t he? You hope he can see the irritation in your body language as you stiffly turn towards him one last time.

“I’ll see you on the ship, laser brain. Until then, screw you.” He tries to say something, but you put a hand in front of his face, shushing him. “Oh, and at least try to read the holo pad on the dealer we’re after, if you even know how to, yeah? I’m trying to actually get promoted, unlike someone I know.”

You don’t even wait to gauge what his response is, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself that you had just spun his own words back on him. You turn right around and step through your door, closing it directly in his irritating face and stubbornly not opening it again until morning at breakfast time.

Unfortunately for you, shutting the door like this caused you to miss the chance to see him slowly trudging in the other direction. He was muttering under his breath some laughably weak comebacks to respond to you with, such as “Of course I know how to read, you… nutcase” and “No, you’re the one that has a laser brain,” ultimately giving up his attempts at the end of the hallway and continuing to the training room to get some extra practice in before tomorrow’s vital outing.

If you’d like to continue reading, head on over to the story on AO3 or check out Chapter Two here on Tumblr!

A/N: I’m finally stepping into the Tumblr arena for the first time (tentatively, may I add)! We’re entering some uncharted territories here, lads. Anakin is so rude I swear, but DAMN if I don’t want to fuck the life out of him. Unfortunately, sweet, gorgeous, amazing little Padmé doesn’t exist in this universe, but hey, that gives us all the more time to absolutely RUIN Anakin.

Anyways, I hope Tumblr enjoys this as much I as I enjoy writing it :)

[emeritusemeritus]

Hello!! Could you write an angsty Fred x reader scenario, based on Melanie Martinez's song "Pacify Her"? Basically reader it's completely in love with him, but Fred doesn't realize it since he's in a relationship with Angelina Johnson (who does know about reader feelings, and bothers her on purpose). If you don't like the idea, ignore me hehe 😊❤

Hi Anon! Okay I have to admit, this one threw me for a loop but my gosh I actually love how this turned out. Hope I did your request justice! 🖤

Pacify her.

Warnings: Reader is delulu. Mentions of infidelity, unrequited love, slightly deceptive and devious behaviour from reader. Sorry Angelina. Unreliable narrator, plotting.

Word count: 1.3k

Someone told me stay away from things that aren't yours. But was he yours, if he wanted me so bad?

Loving Fred Weasley was as easy as breathing. He was funny, charming and unbelievably handsome, the kind of person people are naturally drawn to. He'd drew you in like he had so many others before you, becoming best friends so naturally that it felt like two magnets pulling together, unable to pull apart even if you wanted to. He was easy to like and even easier to love, a change that shifted so subtly that you'd never been able to put your finger on the moment that you'd started seeing him differently. But that's all we was and all he would ever be, your friend. You longed for more, longed to have him see you as you saw him, to have him feel what you felt and to stop the cruel and twisted emotions that came with unrequited love.

But then one day he did; he opened up, felt that pull to another person, wanted all the things you'd hoped for with him for so long only it wasn't for you, it was for Angelina.

She was beautiful, smart and incredibly talented on and off the quidditch pitch. Looking back now it was obvious why Fred liked her, blatantly so, on paper she was a natural fit for him, yet you would never find peace about it nor be happy for them as long as you tried. He was yours first.

He had always been completely oblivious to your affections, only further proving that he only saw you as a friend and nothing more, no matter how hard you tried to make him see; a fact that killed you deep down inside. To make matters worse, you and Angelina did not get along, at all. Once upon a time you might have been considered friends, but that was long in the past. You were the only girl in the inner friendship group, his best friend, natural competition for all potential girlfriend just by your standing in his inner circle. You were the one that the girls didn't trust, they didn't like your friendship with him; probably because you were so clearly in love with him.

For the sake of Fred's happiness, you'd tried to push down your feelings, to be at least cordial with Angelina even if it tore you up inside but the universe wouldn't allow you to fall with dignity, instead it seemed intent on smiting you wherever it could. You’d become almost numb to love now, numb to the pain and distraction it caused, pushed it down until it lay dormant inside you. One day it would escape from the prison inside you, the day that Fred Weasley told you he loved you.

Angelina knew how you felt about Fred, it was obvious from the looks she gave you, the roll of her eyes when Fred laughed at your jokes, the way she'd always try and physically put herself between you and Fred, being overly touchy and smothering whenever you were near, only to give you a smug little smile that he never seemed to notice. The way she whined constantly when she didn’t get her way, like an overgrown toddler that didn’t know how to communicate. It was childish, stupid and getting on your nerves.

I can't stand her whining

Where's her binky now?

Watching them on the quidditch pitch was like enduring purgatory with no hope of paradise on the other side. Her hands all over him and the secret whispers that made his cheeks heat up redder than his hair, it was all for you. Purposefully done just to hurt you, to punish you for having feelings for her boyfriend. But he was yours first.

Pacify her

She's getting on my nerves

Her whining only got stronger once he’d made plans with you to visit the kitchens after hours, something you often did to kill the hours on a boring evening. She whined and clung to him with a pout whilst he tried to reason with her, a pointless effort you thought. Why was he with her? Why joy did he get from her companionship? Did he actually have feelings for her or was he just stuck? Unaware that he could have had you, a much better fit for him, someone that could love him for exactly who he was, in exactly the right ways.

You don't love her

Stop lying with those words

The cracks started appearing only a few months into their relationship, your eagle eyes missing nothing. Her whining and near constant pout had been incessant, all because Fred and George had invited you to the Burrow over the summer holidays, an annual tradition that had been established years ago. You’d goof around down by the lake, fire off fireworks on the warm summer nights, perhaps steal a beer or two from Arthur’s stash and eat the best food you’d ever eaten for the whole week curtesy of Molly. Of course she was unhappy about that, trying to persuade him to cancel, to change his plans and go to meet her mum and dad. When he didn’t fall in line immediately, she became pretty unbearable to be around, if she wasn’t already before. Fred started looking tired, worn down, his restrictive relationship becoming a burden.

And loving her seems tiring

So boy, just love me.

Summer came around quickly and your visit to the Burrow was well underway, surrounded by the family you loved, the boy you loved. You had hardly stopped laughing since the moment you arrived, immediately met with warmth and love. The hug Fred gave you lingered for a while, his warmth, the sweet scent of him and the softness of him lingering all around you for what seemed hours.

Until the letters started coming.

George had sighed, silently protesting the unceasing flow of letters sometimes multiple times a day. Errol was exhausted, completely depleted after two days of flying back and forth, usually with less than soft landings. Fred hadn’t said anything outright as he’d sat and replied to her but you could tell he was getting frustrated, his usually playful demeanour beginning to wane.

It’s late night, perhaps early morning when you both sit on the floor in his and George’s room, the light of a little lantern illuminating the space between you as George lies fast asleep in his bed, oblivious to your little gathering. You’re wearing Fred’s sweater, the early morning chill creeping in through the small, unavoidable gap in the window. You’d like to say that you hadn’t been prepared for it, forgetting your sweater, appearing to forget about the tiny but impactful crack but in reality your sweater lay unneeded at the bottom of your bag.

Fred sighs, resting his forehead on his bent knee as you sit crowded together between the beds, his shoulders resting on George’s bed frame.

Your eyes flick up to him, worried about the heavy sigh until your eyes follow his gaze, looking at the building stack of unopened letters that sat on their shared desk, all from today.

You don't love her

“Tell me,” you say gently, giving him the option to finally be truthful with you. He looks up at you for a moment, holding strong until you see his resolve break, shoulders dropping.

“It’s just not easy, not like it should be… not like it would be with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Time stops as you stare at each other, the words finally spoken out loud after so many years. Cards finally laid out on the table.

The last letter he sends Angelina is a definitive end to their correspondence and to their relationship.

Tired, blue boy walks my way

Holding a girl's hand

That basic bitch leaves finally

Now I can take her man

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

a little Halloween treat...

Laid To Rest (ChillyWilly and Hannigram S4) - Shortfic

Explicit // M/M // Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Frederick Chilton // Tags: Crack almost treated seriously, Season 4, Cuba, Chilton is dead, Chilton is a ghost, ghosts, Haunting, sexual molestation (by a ghost), non-con becomes dub-con becomes con, wet dreams, blow jobs, hand jobs, fantasies, cuckolding, purposefully mixed POVs, riding, anal sex, jealousy, possessiveness, Chilton is finally laid... to rest. Patreon prompt fill.

TW: This is a light hearted and ridiculous story, however the initial interactions between sleeping Will and ghost Chilton are non-consensual and may be something some readers might wish to avoid. 

Hannibal and Will are being haunted by the ghost of Frederick Chilton, there's only one way to lay him to rest.

Laid To Rest (3.6k words):

Will woke in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed in a way that twisted the sheets around him and pulled a grumble from Hannibal.

He panted as he tried to focus on the room but it was too dark to make out much. There was nothing there, he knew. Despite his hard cock straining at the sensation that he must have imagined. If Hannibal wasn’t clearly so fast asleep beside him, he might have believed his lover was trying to wake him with a blowjob.

He groaned and pressed his hand down on his crotch. It was that faceless figure again. Or not faceless but obscured, just beyond his reach, like he wasn’t quite real. And it was a he, and it was, Will knew, someone he had known. He might not be able to clearly see who the person is, but he could feel him. A smugness and void of charm that persisted after death.

“Will?” Hannibal mumbled and reached for him and Will took his hand, squeezed it and then got up from the bed. He needed a shower, a cold one. And then he’d cuddle back up to Hannibal and hope to get back to sleep.

*

“Are we going to talk about it?” Hannibal asked over breakfast.

Will would have sniped that he didn’t know what Hannibal was talking about, but given that they shared a bed, it was difficult to hide anything from his once therapist.

“Not if you’re going to go all psychologist on me,” Will replied before forking eggs into his mouth.

“You’re not sleeping. This is the sixth time you’ve had a disturbed night in the last two weeks,” When Will continued to eat rather than replying Hannibal continued. “If it’s nightmares, Will, it may help to discuss--”

Will shook his head, about to protest that they weren’t nightmares. But what were they?

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure they were even dreams. Not that he was trying to ignore that they might be wet dreams, even if nightmarish due to the subject involved. It was more that it felt so real.

“It’s not nightmares,” Will finally said. “I don’t know…”

He felt discombobulated by the whole thing, he didn’t even have words to describe it. But if he couldn’t discuss it with Hannibal, who could he discuss it with? And after several nights of this, he really needed to tell someone.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Hannibal raised a brow, “Crazy is not a word I use without caution. What makes you think you are crazy, Will?” His tone had slipped into his familiar therapist manner.

“They don’t feel like dreams,” Will replied quickly, “whatever it is, it feels real.”

“Dreams can often feel very real. The same parts of the brain that are active when we are awake are also active when we are in certain stages of our sleep,” Hannibal took the hint from Will’s expression and instead then asked, “And what happens in these not-dreams?”

Will swallowed and focused on Hannibal intently then, giving him a look.

With some amusement, Hannibal’s lips tweaked into a small smile, “Something of a sexual nature? Will, it is quite normal for men of any age to have--”

Will waved a hand dismissively, “If I was just having, um, night emissions, do you think I’d be so concerned? It’s not about what happens… what I do… It’s about what is done to me.”

Hannibal frowns at that and his concern is obvious, “Please explain.”

“In the night, I feel like… it’s like someone is there. A third person in our room… touching me. Sexually.”

“I see,” Hannibal’s tone and expression were dark and for a moment, dark enough that it sent a chill up Will’s spine.

Continue on AO3

[broodwolf221]

okay pt. 2 to this bc i made myself sad with the first part :')

They were back at Skyhold... that is, he was back at Skyhold, having returned with Varric and Cassandra, and Solas was nowhere to be found. The mages had snuck away after their altercation and he’d been poring over the fight. Both fights, really.

He was still pissed off but he couldn’t deny the growing swell of guilt. “My friend is dead.” It couldn’t be easy. Atros didn’t understand Solas, had never understood him, but he had seen that the man was gentle, that he was compassionate, and that he cared deeply and tried to help whenever he could. He kept trying to make sense of the situation and then shying away from it.

What if it had been one of his friends who had died? He didn’t know who his friends were, couldn’t recall any he’d use the term for... except maybe Solas. Trying to think it through like that was ridiculous though. What if Solas had died, and Solas had yelled at him for mourning Solas? No, it was ludicrous. He just wouldn’t be able to understand. He’d never understood the mage and it didn’t seem like that was going to change tonight.

But he did understand that he’d fucked up. That he’d lashed out at a horrible time. And he did understand that Solas might never return. That he might have ruined everything.

What was there to ruin?

He’d been in the rotunda for some time now, sitting at the man’s desk and idly toying with a quill he’d left there. He had considered looking through his books, trying to find something of interest, trying to sate the curiosity that was ever-present, but he felt he’d caused enough damage for one day. So it was just him and this damn quill, surrounded by Solas’ art and the faint tang of his paint that smelled like him and Atros was trying so hard to ignore that being the main reason he was here. It was comforting and familiar.

He jolted when the door opened and stood up quickly, almost guiltily, dropping the quill back to the desk like it’d burnt him. Solas stood in the open doorway, looking icy and distant. “Inquisitor.” The greeting was cold and Atros bristled before he forced it down and away. He didn't want to pick another fight. He was just surprised that Solas was back. Pleasantly surprised - but that was all.

That was all, right? He tried to ignore the rush of relief, not wanting to untangle the implications of it right now. Or ever.

“You’re back,” he announced awkwardly, unnecessarily. Solas scoffed.

“I’m not one to abandon my responsibilities. Nor my promises.” That was targeted and his hands clenched, watching as Solas’ eyes narrowed slightly. He’d noticed. Atros took a deep breath and forced his hands to relax.

“Guess not,” was all he said, stepping back from the desk. It felt too weird to be there with the mage in the doorway. Like an inversion of their usual dynamic. Instead he walked towards the scaffolding, leaning against the armature. “Look...” he trailed off, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Spare me.” He snapped to attention at the cold response, watching as Solas strode purposefully over to his desk. “You have made your priorities abundantly clear, Inquisitor. I shall not trouble you with my personal affairs again.” He picked up the quill and tossed it aside like it was stained. He glared, feeling the same pulse of anger that he’d felt on the field.

“Dammit, I’m trying here,” he snapped, pushing off the scaffolding. “I get it, you’re pissed, but-”

“Pissed?” Solas whirled around, that same heat in his eyes as before. “You think I’m angry? No, Inquisitor, I’m mourning. I lost someone dear to me today and all you can think about is yourself. Well, I’m here. I will follow your command. But do not expect me to salve your wounded ego.” He took a step back. Just like before. Fuck. He hated it when Solas made him retreat, he hated it. He hated him. The smug, sanctimonious bastard.

“Hey, fuck you!” He closed the distance and this time Solas didn’t back down, didn’t make himself any less threatening, just met his eyes with a cold intensity. “You think I need you? You think I’m here for you to comfort me? You don’t know anything about me!” Fuck. How many times have they had this fight? His voice, his words, it all flooded him with a sickening sense of familiarity. Would they ever stop? He growled, frustrated, and turned away. “Shit. No, I’m... look.” He was forcing his voice down but he couldn’t meet Solas’ eyes. Not right now. “I just- I didn’t know if you’d come back.” Solas laughed, so condescending and sharp that it made him want to punch the damn mage. He restrained himself. “You’re being an ass right now, but I guess that’s fair.” He had to force each word out, but at least Solas didn’t laugh again. He didn’t respond at all, in fact. Atros still couldn’t meet his eyes. “Enjoy this. You’re not going to hear it again. But...” he took a deep breath and finally looked up, meeting his gaze as evenly as he could. “I’m sorry.” Solas blinked, clearly taken aback.

Atros, meanwhile, felt like his skin was on fire. He felt itchy and desperate to flee and-

Solas hand settled so gently around his wrist. Then his posture softened so fast that Atros briefly thought he was falling, unaided by the fact that the mage looked absolutely worn and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, squeezing Atros’ wrist gently before withdrawing. He took a step back, leaning against his desk, and Atros took that as his cue to leave.

He was glad Solas was back.

[leastdatablebracket]

ROUND 4, MATCH 7

Propaganda under the cut!

Joseph Christiansen

Propaganda

So many reasons. He's already married, he's a jerk to his wife, he's already slept with at least one of the other romance options. That romance option goes to you before a date with Jospeh and damn near begs you not to be stupid and go with him. The worst part? You put up with all this and he leaves you to "work things out with his wife". She deserves so much better than him! One of the writers even said he's a sociopath. 

Married and a youth minister.

Cheater, cringe man, father of creepy children, possibly evil cultist, left a guy feeling used which said guy also became friends with Joseph's wife who appears to be an alcoholic likely as a coping mechanism since she's married to Joseph

He cheats on his wife, has done so before, lies to you by claiming that he's going to leave his wife when he clearly never intends to (and, in one ending, will even cheerfully suggest that you two continue having an affair in an extremely sleazy way), and judging by the fact that the other guy we know he cheated on his wife with, Robert, hates Joseph and is now very close friends with his wife, it seems clear to me that this whole "purposefully mislead someone into sleeping with you and then later drop the bomb that it was an affair" thing is repeat behavior with him. Also, I just find much of his behavior to be very manipulative and controlling; there are many situations where it seems to me that he's actively trying to paint others in a negative light while still coming off as saintly himself, such as an early scene where he subtly implies his wife is a shitty mom because she *checks notes* let their toddler out of her sight... during a neighborhood barbecue in a fenced-in yard surrounded by trusted adults and other kids. Also notice how in this scene he pushes *her* to go look for their son, rather than just looking himself, all while keeping up his "long-suffering husband" act. (and in other scenes can be found letting his other young children wander off into the woods with sharp implements and visibly not caring, but whatever). He does this with Robert, too -- the other guy he had an affair with. Almost everything he says about or to Robert is a subtle jab about his personality or his alcoholism. Classy, Joseph. Meanwhile, the fact that you can't actually end up with him in the end (because he was never going to leave his wife for you) started some of the most volatile discourse in the fandom and had people calling the devs homophobic and claiming they were spreading a message about "gay men needing to stay in loveless abusive marriages to women" (just ignore the fact that there are several other divorced gay dads in this game who all have great relationships with their kids and are not demonized in the slightest). HOWEVER, if you see people claiming he's a cultist or demon or something, that's untrue and was just going to be a non-canon spooky alternate ending that ended up getting cut. So I empathize with him a little bit for getting literally demonized by some fans for that cut alt ending. But he loses all those points by cheating on his wife multiple times and showing clear intent to continue doing so.

He's still married when you start dating him. He's also got like 5 kids that are some "children of the corn" kinda shit, and all their names have "Christ" in them

You don't even get to date him he's still married to his wife who he doesn't get along with. Tragic really

Anomen Delryn

Propaganda

Obnoxious, holier-than-thou dick. "Oooh look at meeee I'm so good and righteous, of coooourse you want to sleep with me". Attacks other members of your team. Smug, punchable face. Ugh.

Abusive controlling misogynist who gaslights the main character and has all the charm of a rotting potato.

[jonathanbiers]

“Come here,” Argyle insists, motioning with his free hand for Steve to do just that. “Prove it. Show me you can shotgun without wanting to make out.” Steve doesn’t point out that that’s not how Argyle phrased it the first time, or that the few other times he’s done it, he did want to make out with the other person. But that had been with Tommy, and when Steve even hinted at the concept of bisexuality in conversation, he’d recoiled as if he’d been burned. Shotgunning at parties in front of his girlfriend seemed to be where the line was drawn, and Steve wasn’t stupid enough to try and push it. He also definitely doesn’t mention that he’d make out with Argyle if given the chance, or the fact that he’s thought about it before. Sue him, Argyle’s good-looking. Steve has a thing for long hair. And he’s got a nice face, lips that look full and soft, and Steve kind of likes how tall he is—but no, now Steve’s got a point to make. With a carefully constructed expression of bored defiance plastered to his face, he scoots over to the next couch cushion and turns to face him, one leg pulled up onto the couch, pointedly ignoring the brush of his knee against Argyle’s thigh in favor of raising a brow as if he’s the one issuing the challenge. If Argyle is at all surprised or taken aback, he hides it well, an almost smug smirk tugging at his lips. “Alright, then. Mouth open for me, pretty boy,” he says, his voice low and soft, just before bringing the joint to his lips and Steve’s inner monologue is nothing but: oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

send me a <500 word excerpt from one of my fics and i'll give you my thoughts and commentary!

from "from the tone of your voice,"

okay, so. while it is in steve's pov and we are seeing his thoughts, there's definitely a lot behind the scenes he isn't admitting to himself yet. this whole air of "yeah, argyle's hot, whatever," like we didn't just find out earlier that argyle regularly does shit like playing with steve's hair and that steve likes it(italicized). like we're not going to find out later (spoilers kinda?) that argyle makes steve feel safe and seen and that he always has.

rest of my thoughts under the cut so it doesn't clog up people's dash!

but anyway. steve's being a competitive little brat here. he stays that way throughout the scene, even while he's also kind of blue-screening about everything that's happening. even when argyle says the 'mouth open pretty boy' line (which, to my delight, a lot of my lovely friends have yelled and/or barked at me about) steve scrambles to reign himself in and regain some composure because he's cocky and now he's got something to prove.

but what we don't see is argyle's perspective, though i did try very hard to make it obvious how he's feeling. argyle is applying his own advice here. he's just told steve about how he told chrissy to try shotgunning as a way to make a move on robin, because (his words) it's impossible not to make out when you're that close. he is very purposefully trying to make a move on steve.

argyle is canonically a very observant person. he's picked up on little things about steve, they've been friends and living together for over a year at this point (though the timeline hasn't really been stated or come into play yet in the series. it will) he knows steve's tendency toward competitiveness and he's using that to his advantage to try and achieve his goal (which is mainly kissing steve, but like also definitely a lot more, but they'll get there)

and if he picks up on how much steve likes compliments/praise and uses that to his advantage ("pretty boy"/telling him he's doing good) what of it. steve's definitely not complaining, and it gets him to blush all pretty. he's definitely freaking out on the inside just as much as steve is, though, because he's got this ridiculously huge crush on steve. argyle's inner monologue for this entire scene is "please kiss me please kiss me please kiss me"

[kaiijo]

love triangles in twisted wonderland (ii)

characters: ruggie, kalim, cater, malleus, sebek, jack notes: gn! reader, mix of jpn and eng translations

ruggie bucchi vs kalim al-asim

Ruggie didn’t know how he felt about Kalim. On one hand, he represented everything Ruggie really despised — spoiled, oblivious, lazy upper-crust people who wouldn’t know a struggle if it hit them in the face. On the other hand, Kalim never gave him a real reason to dislike him beyond his socioeconomic standing.

That is, until now.

You and Kalim, much to Ruggie’s dismay, had been paired up for some Astrology project. You two had been friendly before but now, you were attached at the hip. Or, more accurately, Kalim followed you around like a lost pup, which made Ruggie roll his eyes every time he saw it. You didn’t seem to mind though…

It was a rare moment nowadays to have you to himself, so Ruggie capitalized on the fact that you were alone at a cafeteria table and that Leona had been sound asleep in the gardens at that moment. Skipping the line and ignoring disgruntled cries, Ruggie got a hamburger and joined you at your table.

You perked up when you saw him, offering him a smile that made his stomach flip-flop. “Hey!”

“You mind if I sit here?”

“You know that I don’t. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah.” Ruggie resisted the urge to point out that Kalim was the reason for it, instead opting to say, “I’ve been studying my ass off for Vargas’s exam.”

“Me too,” you sighed, resting your cheek on your palm. “Who would’ve thought the Headmage would make him do a written exam?”

Ruggie replied, “I heard something different — that Professor Trein basically said Vargas wouldn’t be able to pull together one since he’s got muscles for brains, or something like that.”

You snorted out a laugh, “Even if that isn’t true, it is in my head.”

Ruggie bit down on his lip to keep from grinning too widely. Your conversation carried on, blissfully uninterrupted, for approximately seven more minutes (not that Ruggie was counting or anything) until the exact person Ruggie didn’t want to say bounded over in his endless sunshine.

“Ooh! Is that the blush sauce pasta?” Kalim asked you, leaning over your shoulder. Ruggie huffed when your attention was pulled from him. “Do you think I’ll like it? Can I have a bite?”

Ruggie glared at Kalim as you twirled up a bunch of pasta, holding it out on your fork for Kalim to try. He wondered if Kalim was purposefully a messy eater or if that was just him, but some sauce splattered on his cheek. “Whoops,” Kalim said and you just shook your head fondly, wiping some off with a napkin.

Deliberate or not, Ruggie had one thought cross his mind: Two can play that game. With that, he braced himself and drove his knee upwards into the table. He let out a yelp of pain and your attention was immediately diverted. “Are you okay, Ruggie?” You shot up from your seat and came over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roll up your pant leg — is it bruising?”

As you started pulling the fabric up, Ruggie shot a sidelong glance at Kalim, who was watching intently with a pout, and his mouth pulled into a smug smirk.

Ruggie: 1, Kalim: 0.

cater diamond vs. malleus draconia

Since Riddle and the rest of the housewardens were away on some bonding retreat organized by Kalim, Cater decided to throw a party. Half of it was to be able to have fun without Riddle getting on to him about the rules, and the other half was because he wanted an excuse to spend time with you outside of class. You had been pretty busy recently so he was really looking forward to chilling with you.

Imagine his shock when he saw you walk into the dorm with Malleus Draconia at your side. Tall, dark, and regal, Malleus cut an intimidating figure as followed you across the room, headed for Cater. “Hey!” you chirped, grinning brightly. “Thanks for inviting us.” Cater’s heart skipped a beat as he soaked in the sight of your smile.

Malleus nodded along and said, “It was very generous of you.”

Part of Cater wanted to say that he invited you, not Malleus, but he definitely wasn’t going to say that. Plus, maybe he could get a Magicam pic with him at this party? “Of course!” Cater replied, “I’m super excited to have you here!” He turned to Malleus and said, “Not often that I see you out and about!”

You looped you arm through Malleus, something both he and Cater took note of, and said, “This is Malleus’s first big party so I was thinking you could show him around and introduce him with me?”

“I’d be surprised if people didn’t know him,” Cater said. “But I’ll definitely help.”

“Ah,” Malleus spoke up. “We wouldn’t want to impose on Cater. I would be okay if you just showed me around, Y/n.”

Cater’s smile faltered but he recovered, shaking his head. What was that about? “It’s no trouble at all, really.”

“It’s uncourteous of a host to leave his guests unattended and to curry favor on one,” Malleus pressed and Cater’s eyes narrowed. What was Malleus playing at?

It didn’t take long for Cater to put two and two together. The way Malleus didn’t reject your touch, the way he arrived with you, the way he insisted that only you showed him around, the tenderness with which he looked at you — Malleus liked you. Panic bubbled up in him. If that was the case, and you brought him with you to Cater’s party, did that mean you liked Malleus romantically?

At that exact moment, another thought dawned on Cater. “Shouldn’t you be at the housewarden retreat?” He nearly jumped when the aura around Malleus became a mix of gloom and irritation.

You definitely felt the shift too as you asked, “Cater, can I talk to you alone for a sec?” You grabbed his arm and hauled him off somewhere, calling sweetly over your shoulder to Malleus, “We won’t be gone long!”

You led Cater to an empty hallway and said, “Malleus wasn’t invited, so I decided to bring him here to, you know, cheer him up!”

Ah, now that made sense. His body relaxed a little. So this wasn’t a date. You just felt bad that Malleus wasn’t invited.

You continued, “I know you’re hosting and it’s a lot to ask, but could you help me just make sure he has a good time? Or at least isn’t sulking alone in the corner?”

Cater considered this for a second. He wasn’t too keen on babysitting Malleus for the night but if it meant spending time with you… “Sure, no problem!” When your face broke into a relieved smile, Cater knew that, somehow, this would be worth it.

sebek zigvolt vs. jack howl

“Master Lilia!” Sebek shouted, rushing into the Diasomnia dorm. Looking up from a game of chess with Silver, who had fallen asleep across from him, Lilia asked, “What can I do for you, Sebek?”

“I seek counsel!”

“Oh? On what matter?”

Sebek huffed, “I am trying to find a way to spend more time with Y/n but I am at a loss for how to do so. Every time I approach them, they are with someone and even when they are not, people pop up everywhere.”

Lilia nodded carefully. “I see.” Lilia thought for a moment before saying, “You have a test in Defense Magic coming up, no?”

“Master Lilia, with all due respect, this is not the time to—”

Lilia held up a hand. “Let me finish, Sebek. You share that class with Y/n, if I recall correctly. So why don’t you invite them to study with you? Just the two of you, no one else.”

Sebek’s face brightened. “Master, you prove yourself once again to be a brilliant strategist! I am indebted to you!”

With a bow, Sebek ran off again, finding you in the Mirror Chamber, leaving your dorm portal. “Human!”

“Oh, hey, Sebek!”

“I am requesting that we study together for the Defense Magic test!”

“Oh!” You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that would be great actually! It’s kind of one of my worst subjects, so it would be a lot of help to study with someone else.”

“And, of course, I know what I’m doing, so you’re in good hands.”

“Alright, do you want to go to the library now?”

“Ah,” Sebek said, “I… got banned for the day for my volume in the library.” He couldn’t tell if his face was warming from the admission or from your amused stare.

You chuckled and said, “What about the courtyard then? We need to actually do spells anyways, so that’s a better option.”

Sebek nodded and you two walked to the courtyard. As you two started studying and practicing together, Sebek learned two things: one, you weren’t lying when you said Defense Magic wasn’t your strong suit. You managed to put a shield around a bench instead of yourself. The second thing was that, while he was okay at the subject, he was nowhere near good enough to really effectively help you study. And if that was the case, how could he help and defend the Young Master if he couldn’t help you, the person he liked, with such a simple thing as Defense Magic? And if he failed the Young Master—

“Jack!” The call of the name snapped Sebek from his downward spiral, and he followed your gaze to Jack, who was jogging across the courtyard. Sebek couldn’t help but grimace when the other boy made his way towards the two of you.

“Hey.”

You asked him, “Your best class is Defense Magic, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you have time to help me and Sebek with the shielding spell that’s on the upcoming exam?”

Sebek’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jack’s tail start to wag. Before he could answer you, Sebek interjected, “I’m sure we don’t want to bother Jack on his run.”

“I’m, uh, actually just finishing,” Jack said. “It’s okay, I can help.”

Without warning, you wrapped Jack in a hug, ignoring the sweat clinging to him. “Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

Sebek could only glower at your embrace and at the way Jack’s tail seemed to be rapidly picking up speed by the second. It seemed like he would have to take the loss, retreat for the day, and regroup with Master Lilia to craft a different plan.

[deathbymas0chist]

༒ 𝔍𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩 𝔙, 𝔎𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔪 𝔄.

༒ A/N : this is a continuation of this post here! I would recommend reading it first bcs it is mentioned of what happened previously, but it’s totally fine if you don’t bcs it’s not that important. I honestly didn’t even know I was going to write apart two but since people wanted it, here it is!

༒Word count: 3k.

༒Content warning: Fem! Reader , ooc character’s? (I haven’t played the game in awhile..) , Jamil being like.. really sadistic, corruption , unprotected sex , oral (male receiving) , mating press? (She gets folded) , lots of degrading (use of slut , being told how much you enjoy being used) , orgasm denial , pussy slapping , reader is very masochistic , let me know if I missed anything!!

Standing outside of Jamil’s and his girlfriend’s shared dorm room in the dead middle of night is not somewhere Kalim thought he’d be at again, especially not so soon after yesterday’s “lesson” took place.

Shakily taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the burning hot heat on his face, the sweat practically dripping down his shaking palms, and the raging hard-on in his pants, he raised his shaking fist to knock on the cold wood of the door.

Shakily taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the burning hot heat on his face, the sweat practically dripping down his shaking palms, and the raging hard-on in his pants, he raised his shaking fist to knock on the cold wood of the door.

As his fist was about to hit the hardwood of the door, the handle turned and swung open, revealing Jamil, who looked just as smug as ever. “Finally on time for once, huh?” He said, smirking as he opened the door wider to let kalim see what he had been awaiting. Walking in the dimly lit room, illuminated by the moonlight, he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed shyly playing with the soft pink lace that decorated your chest cutely.

He heard the sound of the door closing behind him, followed by footsteps trailing behind him. “Pretty isn’t she? Since she wanted to dress up like such a slut for you, I’ll give you the honor of getting to undress her.” The condescending undertone of his words go unnoticed by kalim as he could only focus on the words “she wanted to dress up like a slut for you.” For him. He felt a rush of pride at the thought of having you wanting to look pretty for his eyes. Those thoughts gave him a boost in confidence as he walked towards you with more of a stride in his step.

Now standing in front of you, Kalim could feel the unwavering gaze Jamil had on him, as he watched his every move closely. He stood back with his arms crossed ready to watch the scene unfold before him.

Letting out another shaky breath as his desire to touch you grew, he looked into your eyes to get a sign of confirmation to touch you. You noticed and subtly nodded your head, giving him permission to touch you. He slowly moves his hands to the band of your panties, noticing the intricate details and the cute bow on the center he couldn’t help but mutter out a soft “…cute” to himself. As he slid the soft cotton material down your plush thighs, he admired how pretty your cunt looked in the dimly lit room, just as pretty as last night’s “session.” He couldn’t be more excited to see what else he was going to be learning about tonight. Finally sliding your panties to your ankles, he took them off and gently held them, unsure of what to do.

“You can keep them since you seem to like them so much.” Jamil said with an unamused tone in his voice. Kalim couldn’t believe it. First you wore something so pretty just for him, now you're letting him take something as precious to you as your underwear? It was like you were trying to purposefully make him want to use your body with these actions.

As he went to stuff your panties into his pockets, you unhooked your bra and threw it into the corner of the room, revealing your perky nipples to both men. You sat Back shyly, once you were done removing your article of clothing, placing your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers until you were brought back out of your daze by Jamil’s harsh tone.

“You’re not going to just leave our guest here to do everything himself are you? And here I thought I had actually taught you some manners. Figured a slut like you would forget so soon, the only thing on your mind is probably you getting filled.” Jamil said with a faux disappointed look on his face, but his eyes told you a different story, and along with his mean words, you knew he was far from disappointed, in fact, this was the most amusing thing he was witnessing. Figuring out what he meant, you felt more heat rush to your cheeks as you refused to look up, wanting to not make eye contact from the embarrassment you felt. But nevertheless, you still wanted to comply, not wanting to disappoint Jamil even further.

You brought your hands up to the visible tent in his pants, then you undid the buttons before sliding them down his thighs. You brought your hands back up once more to the band of his boxers. As you were doing this, Kalim slowly lifted his shirt off and threw it off to the side. You took a shaky breath before slowly sliding his band down, his hard cock sprung up immediately, slapping this stomach. The pre cum on his swollen head was glistening in the pale moonlight room, and with it standing face-to-face in front of you, you couldn't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

He stepped out of his pants, and kicked them to the side, before moving back to where he was previously standing, right in front of your face. Finally after staring for a bit, unaware of your actions, you broke your gaze away from Kalim, as you turned to look back up at Jamil for confirmation on what to do. Jamil narrowed his eyes at your hesitation, “What are you waiting for? You wanted to do this all day so why are you stopping now? Hurry up and get to work. You know stupid sluts get punished. Swallowing the lump in your throat, and turning your attention back to Kalim, you took his length into your mouth.

He hissed at the contact. He had never felt someone’s mouth around his cock like this before. This was actually his first time, and he was not complaining. You had been swirling your tongue on the tip of his cock, and dragging your tongue on the underside of it, before slipping him inside your mouth, taking only halfway as to not try and suffocate yourself. He was thick, thicker than Jamil, and you hadn't been used to this size before, as Jamil happened to have more length, but he was a bit on the slimmer side.

Jamil had other plans for you though, he walked over to both of you before grabbing the back of your head, and forcefully pushing you down Kalim’s dick. You choked and gagged around Kalim at the sudden unexpected push as your eyes snapped open and Kalim stood wide-eyed looking at Jamil, surprised at his sudden actions. “W-what are you doing..? You don’t have to be so rough..” He was so sweet! Caring about how mean Jamil was being to you. He didn’t want you to get hurt.. But little did he know that you enjoyed being treated like that, and you honestly wanted more, especially from him.

Jamil only laughed at his words. “If you knew how much she was begging for this, you’d be saying otherwise.” While continuing to push your head down further onto Kalim’s cock Kalim was still surprised, but he was unable to say more, with the pleasure he was feeling as you continued to choke on his dick. With his tip continuing to hit the back of your head, and you massaging his balls, he felt like he was about to burst at any second, he threw his head back and moaned loudly as he felt so, so close.

Before he could release, Jamil pulled you off forcefully and pushed you back on the bed. Kalim was disappointed by the loss of contact, especially after he was so close, turning to Jamil, to ask why he was met with Jamil with his clothes already discarded and smirking. Kalim was at a loss for words, he was too nervous to look at Jamil, despite what had happened last night, he felt anxious.

With you laying on the bed, Jamil spread your legs wide and stood between them telling Kalim to “pay close attention because this is where our actual lesson starts.” As he roughly thrusted into you. Kalim stood close as he watched Jamil’s mean, merciless thrusts, while you continued to cry out in pleasure. He was actually surprised by how much you seemed to enjoy being used as if you were nothing but a hole, Jamil was practically ignoring you to talk to him, but you really didn’t seem to mind. You were moaning so loudly, and the look on your face was telling enough, with your eyes going hazy already, and you were begging for more. But, Jamil only continued to ignore your cries as he continued on with his “lesson.”

“I’m going to be teaching you the difference between faster, harder and deeper tonight.” He says as he slows down his thrusts for you. “The first one is pretty self explanatory, all you gotta do is go faster, without changing anything else.” He says as he begins to speed up his thrusts while keeping up the same strokes. Your legs had begun to shake at the vigor of his hips hitting yours. Kalim stood back and watched intently, making sure to not keep his eyes off the sight in front of him. He was following along and even making some mental notes in his head, this was the most focused he had ever been on anything.

Turning around to make sure Kalim had paid attention, and had gotten most of what he had said down, Jamil had slowed down his pace once more, and began with his next lesson. “Now we’re going to learn the difference with harder. Now, going harder doesn't necessarily mean going faster, It just means you're going at it with more force. Watch carefully.” He grabbed your legs and folded them back, your knees were on your chest, with his bruising grip on the underside of your knees, as he made sure his thrusts now made you rock, along with the bed that had been moving side to side. The sound of your loud squelching pussy only intensified, as his body moved against yours with such power. He might not have been going very fast, but with the sheer force he had, it was enough to drive you insane.

Before you came close to finishing, he pulled out before anything else could happen, as you whined out at the feeling of being so empty. Kalim was now watching, with his jaw slack, and cock throbbing, He needed to be inside you so badly, and god, your reactions– the noises you were making, everything was driving him mad. But he needed to focus, he had too. So snapping himself out of his own trance, he met eyes with Jamil, who had noticed just how hard he was staring.

“Don’t worry, after this final lesson you’ll have your turn with her, don’t rush things and pay attention because now we’re going to go over one more thing, Okay?” He turned back around to meet your eyes as he continued speaking. “Now, when going deeper, it is similar to going in harder, but you're more focused on the depth you're going, so it means you're going to be rutting in a lot more.” With his final demonstration he pushed his slick covered cock all the way back in harshly, making sure to grind his pelvic bone against you. You moaned at the feeling of being filled even deeper then you had been before. He continued with thrusting into you the same way, but slowly becoming faster, not to the point where he was ramming into you, but enough as to where you could gain more pleasure while him still hitting the parts deeper into you.

You had been on the verge of cumming, squeezing around Jamil so tightly, a tell-tale sign you were teetering on the edge of your high, when he pulled out and slapped your clit. He snickered meanly, as he always did everytime you were close to your release. You were keening and whining on the bed, still not over the feeling of your high being ripped away from you.

Turning to look over at Kalim, he had realized he had forgotten another lesson, something very important. “ Oh! Also another lesson, I almost forgot! Don’t be afraid to put annoying sluts in their place!” Kalim was taken aback by his crude words, and he knew he was in for something as Jamil had an evil glint in his eyes. He moved away from your shaking thighs, with your glistening slick coating your thighs, you had been made into such a pretty mess for Kalim, and he wanted to make you look even more prettier. Kalim took this as his que to finally put the things he had been taught to good use. Before he could even put his tip in though, Jamil had stopped him. “Remember what i said, don’t be afraid to put her in her place. So, spit on it.”

“W-what.. M..me?” Kalim was at a loss for words. He couldn’t do it. That was something so… vulgar, he didn’t think you deserved that, you were too.. Good for that. Well, in his opinion anyways. But, looking at your face, your expression had said otherwise, you were blushing wildly, neither of you had realized but you had been drooling the entire time, with your jaw slack, and pleading for more. You had looked like you actually really had enjoyed that treatment, and who was he to not give you what you wanted? Finally after a few seconds of contemplating whether or not he should do it, he decided on just giving it a shot, if you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have been here.

He gathered up a bit of saliva in his mouth and decided to just do it. He spat directly on your clit, then he brought his finger up to rub it in, mixing it with your slick as he pushed himself into you. You squealed at the stretch, your cunt clenching around his cock, as it was thicker than Jamil’s, he sheathed himself all the way in, to the hilt, since your cunt was so messy, and because of Jamil’s previous assault.  He began to start thrusting slowly, then he picked up his pace, as Jamil did.

“C’mon, how about you show me what going harder means? How bout’ you slap her, watch how she clenches around you like a slut. She likes the pain.” Jamil was whispering all sorts of evil things into Kalim's ears, and almost subconsciously, Kalim complied. He experimentally slapped your thighs, and much to Kalim’s surprise, you moaned at the impact. You had also squeezed around him. It felt.. Pleasant. Your cunt tightening around him made him feel good.. Really good. He wanted to feel it more. It was like that had triggered something feral inside of him. He grabbed the underside of your thighs and lifted them up, bringing them in the same position Jamil had you in, as he began his own assault on your cunt. He pulled his hips away from yours, and pushed back in with force. You knew the walls were most definitely going to have some cracks in the morning from how hard the bed was hitting it.

He continued with his harsh thrusts until Jamil yelled out another command. “Faster!” Kalim immediately picked up on his pace, pulling in and out of you, with little remorse or awareness of how fast he had been going. You were practically bouncing on the bed because of his force. You had been moaning so loudly, and the stickiness and squelching of your pussy became more and more noticable. The stickiness Kalim could feel around you, only making him even more insatiable. He was hypnotized by how his cock was moving in and out of you, with the white ring that formed like a halo on the base of his dick, making it throb harder inside of you. He was almost lost in a trance, if it wasn't for Jamil shouting out yet another command.

“Deeper!” Kalim slowed down with his pace, making you cry out in dismay. But, much to your surprise, he made up for his lack in speed with how deep he managed to hit inside of you. With every thrust, he would grind his pelvis into yours, just enough to make you feel him grind against your clit. You couldn't take it anymore, with all the overwhelming feelings causing you to reach your high very quickly, but that didn't seem to deter Kalim as he stopped trying to reach deeper. He picked up his pace, only aiming to chase after his own high as you clenched around him and started to cream. You were buckling around him, crying out loudly and shaking, with an overwhelming rush Kalim started to feel, his mind went hazy, he couldn’t even think straight!

And with Jamil’s incessant whispering into his ears, telling him to “Give her a slap, C’mon she likes it, you know she does! When you treat her like that, she can only seem to think with her pussy, that’s why she clenches so hard whenever you slap her around like a slut.” Giving into Jamil’s demands, he raised his hand and slapped you across your face meanly, shocking both you and him. He felt you clench around him once again as he came with a shudder and loud moan, releasing his cum deep inside of you.

He pulled out, and turned to look at Jamil who was watching with a proud, evil look on his face. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” and thinking about it for a second, Kalim realized he did in fact enjoy it, he felt a rush on making you get off on him doing that to you. He liked the feeling of you crying, and begging for him to keep going while making you cum. Slowly nodding his head, while averting his eyes away from Jamil, Jamil’s smile only widened at his actions, he felt as if he had finally gotten through to his friend, even if it meant he corrupted him into liking the feeling of inflicting some pain onto others. You could only look at them through half-lidded eyes unaware of what else they had in store for you, as they both found a new common interest, bullying the hell out of your cunt whenever they wanted, as you seemed to like taking it no matter how rough they were being.

[ellana-ravenwood]

"Mom, are you a drug dealer ??” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : “(Y/N) Wayne, Gotham’s biggest drug lord ? What will her husband, who works closely with Batman, think ?” said the headline in today’s paper. And you’re not sure if you should be fuming, or bursting out laughing. Oh, oh mother of all misunderstanding. It definitely doesn’t help, that your children think this situation hilarious. 

 As usual comments and reblog are very welcomed, and I hope you like this little story ! :) : 

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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You could see him, there, out the corner of your eye, that infamous smug look on his face. And you were currently trying to ignore him, drinking your coffee and pretending to read a book.

Infuriating. The boy was infuriating. 

And he knew it. 

Dick smirked, knowing indeed full well that you weren’t able to completely ignore him and how he kept staring at you, clearly waiting for you to ask him what was going on. 

But you refused. Stubborn. 

You were not going to play this game. Not today. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, had a tough day at work waiting ahead of you, and getting annoyed at your son that early in the morning was not on your schedule. 

As if he cared. Little sh*t. 

He knew what he was doing. He’d done this kind of thing a million times ever since he first came into your life, barely eight years old and already too smart for his own good. 

Finally, realizing you weren’t going to react at him obnoxiously looking at you, he says, a hint of mischievousness in his voice : 

“Moooooom” and you know he’s about to tell you something just to mess with you. You hear it in his intonation. This is a “Mooooom” that means : “I’m about to say something that is going to piss you off, and I’m gonna have fun doing it.” 

And so he continues : 

“Are you aware there’s rumors spreading fast that you’re apparently one of Gotham’s most prominent drug lord ?” 

There’s a short silence. You know, the time for you to process what he just said. And then you slowly put your book down. Turn to him, trying to stay as calm as possible (because WTF IS THAT RUMOR ??), and say, the tension in your voice palpable : 

“Excuse me ?!” 

He nods, taking a fake grave expression, showing you the headline of one of Gotham’s most famous newspaper, and answers : 

“Oh yeah. There’s pictures of you going in dark alleys with packages and all. Very sus mom.” 

He knows he successfully just got on your nerve. His condescending tone, his expression that seemed to say : “really mom ? I expected better from you”, and the fact he most definitely was telling that to you JUST to irritate you. 

Yes. Mission : success, as you exclaim : 

“Wh-OH HEY ! You know why I do that !!” 

************

Yes. Of course he knows. Is that going to stop him from getting a rise out of you though ? Hell no. He always thought it was amusing, when you’d get annoyed at him. He LOVED to push all your buttons, and he was probably, amongst your children, the best at it. 

Although, they all had quite a talent to get on your nerves when they wanted to.

Contrary to popular belief, you were far from being a perfect mother. Sometimes, whether on purpose or not, your kids annoyed you. You didn’t have an endless amount of patience. Not every day was rainbows and sunshine, sometimes you weren’t in the mood. 

And your kids ? Well, if only they didn’t have the joyous hobby of purposefully seeking you out when you were in those moods, just to annoy you further (the point was to get you very mad, so you’d evacuate your bad mood, and then you’d feel better...and it worked every time, you’d get incredibly irritated, and then things would just diffuse by themselves). 

Jason

Oh my God JASON. That little...

Jason was a MASTER at annoying you on purpose. He never did that when he was a kid, too afraid you’d send him away if he was too much of a nuisance (a thought that genuinely broke your heart). 

But after he died and came back to life ? After all the hurt he went through, and the resentment that neither you nor Bruce killed the Joker ? Well, even as he slowly came to forgive you, he would sometime get small revenge by being a brat. 

Leaving his dirty close RIGHT NEXT TO THE LAUNDRY BASKET. He’d never fully close drawers or cupboard doors. He’d always put back empty bottles in the fridge. He was the greatest at stealing every single phone charger in the house. He’d tell you that he needed something just after you just went grocery shopping. He’d leave the shower curtain just outside the bath, so that the entire bathroom was a goddamn swamp...Any petty thing you could think of ? He would do. Just to annoy you. 

And it worked. 

Whether he thought it was funny when you got mad, or because he just wanted to act out a little revenge. 

It always worked. 

Damian and Tim 

Damian and Tim worked in a team, to manage to piss you off. They, in fact, perfected their technique so well that it was impossible for you not to get annoyed at them. 

They did it when they were bored, to get a rise out of you, which they found very amusing (as long as you didn’t actually got angry, cause you were scary when angry...but annoyed ? Oh that, that was fun).  

Yes. They were very proficient in the act of “squabbling”. 

Getting into arguments with each others over the most trivial things ever. It had the great tendency to exasperate you. Just the other night, they were taking great pleasure into arguing with each other over who had the most french fries in their plate. They LOVED to argue over literally nothing, because they knew it greatly irked you, which they just found funny. 

Cassandra 

Your daughter was an angel, wasn’t she ? Always so nice, attentive to others, caring...Yeah. Yeah she was all that. But she also wasn’t perfect. And when she was bored, she’d often purposefully get on your nerve so you’d take care of her. 

“Bored.” She’d say repeatedly, and then proceed to sigh every two seconds, right in your ear, up until you paid attention to her. 

Oh, and she always ALWAYS stole your favorite clothes, never to be returned..

Duke 

Duke was insidious in his way to annoy you. There was ONE thing he’d always do, because he thought it was funny to see you and Bruce panic and rush : 

Every time there was an important school event, or somewhere you had to be for him, he’d remind you barely half an hour before said event and pretend like he told you about it ages ago, and you forgot. It was always nerve wracking, to suddenly have to find free time. And it was particularly frustrating, because he would enjoy himself way too much during those times. 

Damn brats. 

So,yes. You weren’t the perfect mother. And although you often felt a pang of guilt when you were annoyed at them, you also were aware this was normal and that you couldn’t always be at your best. 

Especially when they were purposefully getting on your nerves. 

Like right now, as Dick thought it extremely funny that you were accused by the Gotham Sun (one of the city’s most infamous tabloid newspaper) of being a prominent drug lord ! 

************

Obviously, you were panicking over it. What if this sprout Gotham PD to put their nose in your business ? What if it lead to them discovering the truth about your family of vigilantes ?? Oh, and the fact your eldest son was finding it so amusing didn’t help. 

“You out of all people know why I do that !” 

“I do. But the people of Gotham don’t.” 

His smirk is even wider now, and you’re fuming. How dare he make light of this very important situation ?! Especially since he knew the truth. 

It became a habit, over the years, that during some nights, you would bring food to your family while they’re on duty...You certainly never expected the media to completely misunderstand your totally normal back and forth in dark alleyways late at night ! 

Taking food to them was the only sure way you knew they’d eat (of course, you wouldn’t go out when there was immediate danger in Gotham, just during normal “shifts”). 

Dick was fine with everything. Ever since he was a little boy, he had a great appetite and it was sometimes a wonder to you how he never gained weight. Sure, he worked out a lot, but you also often saw him eat his entire meal, and then eat whatever his siblings didn’t finish...You all called him “the garbage can” when he was eating. He’d literally finish everyone’s plate, no matter what was in it. So bringing him food was easy, anything would do. 

Jason had always been fond of burgers. You know what’s the good thing about burgers ? You can make declinations of it infinitely. Make different kind of patty (meat or veggie), change the kind of bread, the filling etc. That meant that although he always asked for burgers, he often had a diverse food option available to him whenever you’d do your little delivery service. 

Tim was a picky eater, and was the toughest to cook for. Things had to be at a certain temperature or he wouldn’t eat it (he had sensory issues). He didn’t like change, and often ate the same meals, which had to be cooked by you or Alfred, or he just wouldn’t eat it. 

Damian loved your veggie sandwiches, and anything from the falafel place on fifth avenue. He wasn’t a picky eater, as long as there were no meat, he was pretty much good. He always thought your cooking, even the most rudimentary of things, was delicious. 

Cassandra was a huge fan of gyozas, and you would always bring her an assortment of it, whether homemade or not. Shrimps, chicken, pork, veggie...She loved it all, and it was quite impressive how much she could ingest, given her size. 

Duke had fancy tastes. Ever since he came to live with you and Bruce, he’d discover a cuisine he never got to try before...And it stuck with him. What other kid would ask for caviar sandwiches, lobster rolls and other high end salmon for dinner ? It amused you greatly, and honestly, you were glad he found a new passion in food. He even followed gastronomy blogs now. So you’d bring whatever he wanted to him, often using your billionaire status to not rise suspicion in the fact that you’d ask fancy gastronomic restaurants to “take away” their meal. They just took it as another caprice. 

Bruce ? Bruce would take anything you gave him, quite like Dick. However, unlike his son, his children often had to remind him to eat his food, as he had a tendency to get too entranced in his work. Your kids definitely snitched on him, and so, so he wouldn’t make you mad, he took a habit of eating the things you brought him automatically. How many times a thug was taken down by a Batman who had half a sandwich in his mouth ? Probably too many times. 

Yes. You had a little “Batmom’s food delivery” thing going on, driving all around town as your kids and husband were often scattered all over the place, to give them their meals. 

In retrospect, yeah. To anyone outside your family, this probably looked a little shady ! Who saw you ? Oooh this was dangerous. 

If someone noticed you were going in dark alleyways late at night, with packages in your hand, and then would come out without them, it could be dramatic for your family. What if you were actually followed ? And people saw you give the food to your family ? They’d surely discover their identities in no time ! 

This was terrible. And oh you wished your son wasn’t cracking himself up right now, thinking about how people might believe now that his mom was a drug dealer !! 

It true, that it was funny to think about. (Y/N) Wayne, prominent figure in Gotham’s charity scene, wife of the richest man in the city and one of the richest person in the country, often seen as an excellent mother and faithful wife...dealing drugs during her free time ? 

You could see the irony in it all. How this “drug” thing was drastically going against the image you wanted to give the media (a false image of course, because you always appeared “perfect” in public, but in real life, you were often quite a mess. Or, in other words : human). 

Bruce and you carefully crafted your public figure for years, for it to be completely shattered by this rumor... 

It was even worst, that in the headline, they were involving Bruce and his possible reaction to discovering you were supposedly dealing drugs ! For sure he would have to make a public statement, and how to explain your late venture into Gotham’s dangerous streets ? 

Damn the media, and their nosy journalists. Who even noticed you were doing this ?? Who noticed you, in casual close and not even using one of your many fancy cars, at 3 am, roaming the city ?? 

You were going mad, and while you were overthinking everything, your son kept imitating the media and inventing more and more outrageous possible rumors about you (”(Y/N) Wayne, definitely cheating on her husband with Batman”), driving you even madder. 

************

It was infuriating how everyone but you seemed to take the news lightly. 

You were now all around the breakfast table, and the news of that tabloid title quickly spread. Of course it did. Dick made sure the first thing every one saw when coming in the room, was that said newspaper. 

“Mom, are you a drug dealer ?!” Tim exclaimed, fakely shocked, taking an over the top tone. Damian, who was right next to him, added : 

“And you were my role model ! I’m so disappointed...If even you are bad, who can I trust ?!” 

He had a knack for theatrics, and his siblings giggled as he splayed himself on the table, as if he had fallen into great despair. 

“And you dare to lecture me...How ironic.”  Jason said, shaking his head in a way that was so obnoxious to you. 

“And I thought you were a respectable woman. The disillusion is too grand for me to even fathom it.” 

Duke and his high and mighty way of talking make his siblings burst out in laughter, while you’re boiling inside. How dare they make fun of you in such a serious situation ?? 

“Mom. No chill.” 

Noooo, et tu, Cassandra ? She was clearly enjoying the events too. And if you weren’t so annoyed, you would be touched by how close your kids were. How they had such a great “partner in crime” dynamic, getting along so well. Ah, if only they weren’t ganging up against you right now ! 

“Am I going to have to arrest you ? I do recall you don’t mind handcuffs though...”

Bruce says, smirking (a kind of smile way too similar to Dick’s, that definitely got on your nerve). And you’re pretty sure you just reached a level of annoyance like never before. 

“Ew dad, what the Hell ?! Can you not ? Breaking the mood a little here..” 

If you weren’t so annoyed (and worried), you would’ve definitely taken the perch Bruce was extending to you, and play into it, acting all lovey dovey with him so your children’s want of messing with you would vanish, disgust taking its place instead (followed by them quickly leaving). 

The fact you don’t react though, shows them you’re actually worried and worked up and...they drive the nail into the coffin even further. 

You were their mom. They loved you. Deeply and dearly. But did that stop them from driving you absolutely crazy, and messing with you ? Absolutely not. They knew that this situation was actually nothing serious (rumors about your family were plenty, and they always died down quickly). 

And hey, let’s be honest, you messed with them often too. So let them have their fun a little. Dick continues, taking a pensive voice : 

“Mmm, this could be honestly a problem.” 

And then, all “hell” break loose as they each give a little comment, infuriating you more and more : 

“Yes, what if there is a police warrant to search the Manor ?” 

“Frankly mom, I expected better of you.” 

“Right ? I’m so disappointed. This could be the end of everything for us, all because you weren’t careful enough.” 

“Honestly, we could’ve lived without your food’s delivery anyway.” 

“Moooom, drugs ? Really ?”

“Are you a drug dealer mom ? ARE YOU ?”

“You know what we do to drug dealers right ?” 

“ARE YOU A DRUG DEALER MOM ? TELL US THE TRUTH ? ARE YOU SELLING “OREGANO” IN THE STREETS ?!” 

Oh. Oooh little sh*ts. 

The hyperbolic way they dramatized everything, and how their tone was so condescending and over the top...This was it. 

This was the moment that they got on your never so bad, that everything slowly diffused itself. You know, like how a kettle suddenly goes into hypertension, “screaming” loudly, and then stops when the water is fully boiled ? 

This moment always came, when they purposefully tried to annoy you (which might be their ultimate unconscious goal ? To make you feel better ? Who knows, there was also the very real possibility that they just liked to drive you mad). 

You’d get obviously upset, which amused them. They’d push your  buttons to the max. You’d talk back to them, to their great enjoyment. And then, poof. 

It was over. 

They left, snickering, content that they managed to get the better of you. 

You sighed, frustrated at yourself that they, once again, won. 

And it was over. 

“Every time, huh ?” 

Bruce said, also pretty amused by the way your children could get you to your boiling point in no time (and to be fair, they also drove him crazy on purpose).

“Yeah. Every freaking time.” 

Rumors of you being a drug lord was definitely going to be used by your children to get on your nerves. If only you’ve had had a head’s up ! You turn to your husband, your eyes narrowing at him : 

“You knew, didn’t you ?” 

He acts all innocent, and answers :

“Knew what, exactly ?”

“About that article ? No way you wouldn’t know before it was printed. You know everything.” 

“Do I, now ?” 

“Bruce...”

“What if I knew ? What are you going to do about it ?” 

Oh. Oh your husband too, could be a little sh*t. He definitely knew about it. And didn’t tell you because he knew what your kids would do. He knew they’d notice before you, and use it to mess with you. 

“You know, my heart, you better be careful. You won’t know when, nor where, but one day, I’ll take my revenge.” 

“Mmm, weren’t you the one that told me revenge is a fool’s game ?” 

“Was I ? Can’t recall.”

“You’re getting more suspicious every second, maybe you really are a drug lord, my love.” 

You glare at him, as he wraps his arms around your waist and bring you closer : 

“Just you wait mister Wayne, there’ll be hell to pay.” 

“Mmm, I’m awaiting with great expectations.” 

One last smirk, one last sigh from you, and then you’re kissing. Deeply, and passionately. Because you have a lot of stress and frustration to release. 

But oh, if he thinks a good kiss will make you forget... 

************

You don’t know why you worried so much. 

Or why you let your children get the better of you like that. 

Of course Bruce would’ve had a contingency plan. Of course, he would keep an eye on the only newspaper he didn’t own in Gotham. They had a tendency to spread fake news about your family. And in a way, it did a great disservice to them, because nowadays, less and less people took them seriously. 

Their bias against Bruce Wayne was showing too much. Like that ridiculous time their headline stated : “Bruce Wayne, is he Batman ?” which at the time everyone thought was SO ridiculous ! Nobody could fathom the famous “Brucie Wayne” being this hyper-violent vigilante Batman. Plus, at the time, both of them had been seen at the same place at the same time (thanks to Alfred). In a way, the fact this newspaper, which was owned by none other than Oswald Cobblepot, was always trying to defame your family, made it easier to discredit it. 

It did came close very often to ruining everything though. Fortunately, Bruce always had a plan. 

Like right now. 

There was no point in pretending you guys hadn’t heard of the rumors. In fact, playing dumb right now would only confirm the Gotham Sun (Cobblepot’s newspaper) claim that you were guilty. So Bruce called a press conference, and in a very Bruce way, turned the situation around completely. 

You were reminded, once again, why you loved that man so much. You knew he hated to speak publicly, but unfortunately often was forced to. When it came to you though ? He didn’t find it hard to speak. And he spoke very well. A little scary in a way, how manipulative he could be at times. How he could turn a situation to his advantage, just with his words. 

The fact that the rumor of you being a drug lord came from Oswald Cobblepot’s newspaper made it easy to disband it. 

First, because again, the bias against your family was well known and often made people suspicious of negative things posted about you all. But second, “The Penguin”s shady activities were a well known “secret”, and talking about his “alleged” ties to the narcotic industry in Gotham was enough. 

Oswald Cobblepot was not a liked man. The Waynes though ? Everyone loved you. A little too much at times (it made making any kind of mistakes very scary, because you would risk disappointing a lot of people etc etc). 

Bruce let you speak, and you explained that yes. You were the one going in alleyways with packages...for the homeless of Gotham ! You had no involvement in drugs ! It was actually a well known fact you hated drugs ! After what happened to your family...(everyone loved a good sob story). 

It was true, that when you brought food for your family, you always left some for people in needs. And it was easy to believe, for the people of Gotham. 

They knew your family. They knew how involved the Waynes were in bettering the city. 

And so the story ended, the rumor vanished...Except in your home. 

This thing about you being a “drug lord” just became another way for your children to mess with you, and annoy you to great length. 

Damn brats. 

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I was thinking about what the Batfam eat when they spend long nights out, and how neither Alfred nor Batmom would actually let them skip a meal and...here we are. I hope you liked this ! Comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated <3 ! 

Also, I was thinking about how sometimes, my brother and I purposefully annoy our mother (and it works each time) just because we think it’s funny when she gets mad over small things, and whether the Batkids would do it too haha. And I think the answer is : definitely. So I added, last second, a little part about it.

[ectoplasmer]

ohhh my gosh amy what have you done. this is the most tags i have ever tagged-

imagine if your f/o(s), including romantic and platonic, suddenly came alive and into your life. what would be the first thing you do together? how would you go about introducing them to other people like friends and family? how do they settle in this new home of theirs? plus, if they’re from a vastly different world, how do you think they would get used to their new surroundings?