#i need to be in live with someone. just for something to DO oh my god

[sheep-from-rad]

How would the batfamily react if they found out that the singer/influencer reader was dating one of the villains?, imagine the reader has friends with benefits from the villains

(What kind of jokes do you like?)

Batman is so scary, even bullets are afraid to hit him. That's why they aimed for his parents. (sorry)

anon 🦌

Note: 🦌anon please send more jokes. After the Solmare announcement regarding the Obey me series, I am one push away from drinking every wine in my fridge.I’m gonna need more jokes (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) I don't give permission to have my fics posted to other sites, copied, or fed to AI. Thank you.

Masterlist 

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive and @strangergraphics. Please do support them ♡

You heard that? That’s the collective sign of every Batfamily member sighing in disappointment and collective glare towards Bruce. Like father like child, of all genes to be inherit you inherited his taste (ಠ_ಠ). Getting entangled with a villain is not something new in the Batfamily because they are either related to one (Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian) or romantically involved with one (Bruce with Talia, Poison Ivy, Catwoman and sometimes Harley. Dick with Catwoman II. And Jason with… you know what let’s not talk about Talia and Jason. That one is weird on all levels). 

If you’re romantically involved with someone who does not know Batman’s real identity then it’s not much of a problem. The family is just going to visit said enemy and scar them for the rest of their mortal life. It will be so bad they will just quit being a villain and leave Gotham all together. If you’re romantically involved with someone who knows Batman’s real identity, then it will be a chaotic event. Bruce is already fighting villains and now he’s fighting his blood pressure too. 

Riddler would be so smug about it. He would rub it in every Batfamily member’s face and would constantly drop your name in fights like ‘How would they react if you hurt me?’ or ‘Oh they will be mad if I come back bruised!’. Riddler would be so insufferable like the madman he is. If you’re dating Harvey Dent, you’re technically dating two persons (in most media depictions, Harvey is the same age as Bruce so let’s go with that one). His incorruptible part is basically filling every space that Bruce neglected to fill. He’ll teach you about legals and laws, tell you stories about their days and he protects you from those who dare to come close. His corrupted part, Two face, is kind of mean. He will never miss the chance to remind you of the potential parental issues you have. 

Headcanon that Harley will make it her mini mission to keep you away from Joker because let’s face it, Joker will not love you. He will only use you and break you like how he did to Harley. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter if the relationship you have is good or bad. To the family it’s a parasite that needs to be terminated immediately before it grows. You’re grounded. You’re not allowed to go out alone. If you don’t live in the estate anymore, you will just randomly find your apartment sold to someone else and you’ll be taken back to the estate. No metahumans in Gotham rule but Damian already has the permission from Bruce to have the Titans stay for a while as reinforcements. Even Jason is patrolling more and everyday now he will make a report to the estate. 

During those days they were full on babying you to the point of infantilization. They’ll give you ‘the talk�� especially if you’re in a friends with benefits relationship with a villain and sometimes they’ll go so far into showing you every other person they had been with. They are not above poisoning the relationship too. They’ll show you expertly doctored photos showing their ‘infidelity’. Guilt trip you into reading old cases and gaslight you. You’re not in love with them, you were just manipulated into thinking that you are. 

But of course, what is a Wayne if not stubborn? Month of being grounded and being in heavy watch and you’re done. You already have their shifts memorized down to who checks on you at night. After hours once you’re certain that everyone is now asleep or busy on their patrols (or finished checking your room), you start acting out the plan of running away. You passed each security detail without triggering them, passed every room without alerting anyone, and passed Titus without waking him up. However before you can even reached the doorknob, you heard Dick and Jason behind you:

“Looks like someone took lessons from Catwoman” 

“You know we saw your lover today. We were going to let them go but I guess no one’s picking you up anymore” 

The next time you wake up, you are greeted by the fresh warm breeze and the sound of water hitting the shore. As you descended down the stairs, news about a villain going missing was on the headlines along with the date on the screen saying ‘Thursday’. It has been three days since you got caught by Jason and Dick and Tim just entered the door carrying take outs from Mad Yak cafe. You’re in Happy Harbor, far away from Gotham and your lover is missing. Was the no kill rule violated? You can only pray it’s not.

[onlinedolly]

cw: drug use, misogynistic undertones (brief mention of gender roles), degradation, p in v, p in mouth, dubcon (if u squint maybe?), mentions of piss, mean awful leon, i think that’s it? lmk if i miss any ok thank u

an: for my angel 🕊️ annonie who rq more corrupt cop leon!!!! i don’t put tws in tags so please read the list above carefully. if any of those things are too much for you please feel free to bypass this okay thanks so much. also i did not proof read this cuz im terrible sorry ):

corrupt cop!leon is a mean man. a star in the raccoon city PD, an officer who’d spent years building up nothing but a positive reputation, but behind closed doors he was anything but kind. you were his pretty little girlfriend, over a decade his junior and a former rookie at the same place he worked.

corrupt cop!leon who drank the minute he got home until he went to bed, expecting dinner and clean home when he arrived. so pleased to see his pretty little doll and dressed up for him over a hot stove. he got too drunk, like usual, and that’s when he’d become violent and crude.

“why don’t you come over here, little one?”

corrupt cop!leon would say, patting his legs with an almost empty whiskey glass to his side. and like the pretty, sweet thing you are, there you’d go prancing over to place yourself on his lap. smothering him with kisses, asking about his day, complimenting him on what a good cop he was (not that he needed the ego boost). and he’d sigh, tap your pretty cheek to get you to open your mouth big and wide before slipping whatever pills he’d stolen from the evidence locker a few hours prior. it really wasn’t as bad as it seemed, leon would think to himself, he was just helping, right. the pills made you happy, pliable, sweet and made that little brain of yours dumb.

and oh boy, did corrupt cop!leon love when you were hazy and high and oh so fucking stupid.

“ain’t got a thought up there, do ya?”

corrupt cop!leon who’d roughly knock on your head as if someone would answer. and you just smile all bright at him, like you do so often, and tell him the only thing up there is thoughts of him. you were perfect, a small, sweet thing who let him do whatever he wanted to you. and he ate it up.

corrupt cop!leon who was drunker now, meaner, and after supper is when he’d start to push you around. climbing onto his lap to only be shoved into the cold hardwood as he mumbled how ‘fucking hot he was’. pressing down on your tummy with a full bladder until you pissed yourself, getting so angry at you for using the restroom on the living room floor. and still, you looked at him with hearts and stars in your eyes.

corrupt cop!leon who had you so trained all he had to do was pull his cock out and there you were, on your knees in a second.

“dirty thing, this is all your good for, hm? taking cock and fuckin annoyin me’”

corrupt cop!leon would slur out drunkenly, as you kitten lick the top of his cock. leon would let you tease him for only a few moments before he’d grab the back of your head, hand in your hair, pushing you roughly down the length of his cock. you sputter and cough in a feeble failed attempt to tell him to pull back, but it’s to avail (it’s usually not).

“bet you like that, don’t cha? choking around an older guys cock, whore.”

corrupt cop!leon’s cock which is so big you’re terrified it’ll break your jaw, and especially at the rough and fast pace he’s fucking himself. you can’t breathe and tears spring to the corners of your eyes as you desperately try to gasp for air. but leon’s never been one to give up, no. your tongue is swirling around his cock and your hands are cupped around his balls like you’ve been trained to do, despite the lack of air.

“ain’t you something? fucking perfect.”

corrupt cop!leon would growl out between moans. and right before he cums does he let you breathe, pulling you roughly off of him by your hair. you gasp for air, big gulps that can’t seem to come soon enough as you wipe the tears and snot away from your face. before leon even has to instruct you you’re sinking down on his cock, no panties under that pretty little dress he picked out for you this morning.

corrupt cop!leon who thinks you’re going just too fucking slow. so he takes matters into his own hands, grabbing your hips roughly and slamming you down on his cock and you cry out. leon loved to hear your pained little whimpers, especially when they were still paired with that oh so loving, hazy look you give him.

“next time speed up and i won’t have to hurt ya, so bad y’know? stupid little baby, need me to do fucking everything.”

“s-sorry, sir,” you sputter out, “need you to everything your rig-“ a scream rips through your body as he lifts you up and slams you back down on his cock, you lean forward gripping the back of the couch for some kind of support as he begins a brutal pace, pistoning himself inside your tight cunt.

“fuckers at the force think i’m so good, don’t they baby? it’s cuz im the best, ain’t i? go on say it, your old mans the best cop there ever was, hm?”

you want to speak, relay compliments on him like you’ve done a thousand times before. but you’re just so full and so so overwhelmed. you’re sobbing from the needy feeling as leon fucks into you, enough to give you a tinge of pleasure but never enough to hit that soft spongy spot inside of you.

and leon wasn’t an idiot, he was actually very smart thank-you-very-fucking-much, he knew exactly what he was doing. knew your body enough to fuck you until you’re begging for him to hit right where you need him too.

corrupt cop!leon is a mean fucking man, who loves fucking you like one.

“can’t answer me? what? am i a terrible cop? a bad guy? is that what you think of me?” he eggs on, venom laced in his words.

“n-no!” you cry, his grip on your hips so tight it makes you gasp, “leon’s a good man, good cop, good — ah — everything.”

leon’s fucking you brutally at this point, the exact words he needs to hear from his baby has him reeling, and finally he slams you down against his thighs, his cock hitting you so deep it’s borderline pain as he finally grazes that spongy little spot with his tip. it sends you over the moon, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as your hips involuntarily roll against him, hitting your g spot over and over again until your eyes are rolling in the back of your head.

“god what a slut you are, fucking yourself on my cock, now who told your pretty self you could do that?”

it’s like whiplash the way he picks your smaller frame up, spinning you both around and slamming you into the couch. your legs are spread in the air and he’s fucking you so roughly the couch rocks against the wall.

and corrupt cop!leon is a mean man, but he’s not cruel, so he takes one of his hands and rubs fast circles on your clit until your spasming around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a large tidal wave.

and he’s close too, he can feel it, so he picks up the pace, fucking you hard and ruthlessly as he mumbles pet names into your ear.

“god baby” “fuck, angel.” “cunt made just for me, hm, cupcake?”

finally he cums with a growl that’s almost animalistic, gripping your hip harshly as he unloads his seed inside of you. he’s sweating and panting and you’re looking at him with stars in your glossed over eyes, he takes a few moments to soften inside of you before pulling out.

“you should really clean yourself up, huh? look downright filthy with cum leakin’ out of you like that.”

he says before sauntering away, sure to grab his whiskey glass he’d left of the table.

corrupt cop!leon was a mean man and he was everything to you.

[creamflix]

cw: reader death (multiple lives) but no explicit detail, my take on choso being a "curse"

choso had lived countless lifetimes, yet each felt like the same endless thread, woven with anguish and stitched with your face. the curse of memory clung to him like a shadow, unrelenting, never allowing him to forget. you were his constant, the cruel anchor to his torment, and each meeting was a bittersweet agony.

he remembered the glint of lantern light catching in your eyes, the sound of your voice weaving tales that charmed the village children.

always, he was the nameless, brave warrior in your stories, an unsung hero battling the darkness. choso had sat in the corner of the shrine one evening, his heart tight as he listened to your laughter.

“the warrior was so brave,” you said, your voice soft yet filled with admiration, “but he was lonely, wasn’t he? perhaps he needed someone to fight for.”

your words cut deeper than any blade. how could he tell you that it was you he fought for in every story? how could he explain that your imagined warrior was more real than you knew?

when the first frost of winter came, you fell ill. no offering to the gods, no prayer whispered under his breath could save you. he stayed in the shrine long after, staring at the empty space where you used to kneel, his fists clenched in helpless rage.

a lifetime later, he found you behind the heavy silk curtains of a grand throne room, a princess wrapped in gold and duty.

yet, it was your laughter, still as bright and free as ever, that made him weak. you would sneak out with him, skirt hitched just high enough to avoid the dew-laden grass, your hand clutching his as if the world didn’t matter.

“do you think i could run away?” you whispered once, your voice trembling with the weight of your station. “live out there? with you?”

“don’t,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “don’t say things like that.”

but in his mind, he dreamed.

he dreamed of fields without boundaries, of nights without watchful eyes. it was an illusion that shattered when a marriage was arranged for you. he stood among the onlookers at your wedding, hidden behind a pillar, his heart burning as you smiled at another man.

your laughter was different this time — huskier, laced with the clinking of shot glasses and the hum of an out-of-tune piano. in the dim haze of the saloon, you played for a crowd that never seemed to appreciate your talent. but choso lingered, always. he would drop coins into the glass jar on your piano and request the same song every time.

“you like this one?” you’d ask, leaning closer with a teasing grin. “i’d think a man like you would want something faster.”

“it’s perfect,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “play it for me again.”

you didn’t live long in that life either. a stray bullet during a brawl cut your song short. choso held your hand as you bled out, your voice fading like the final note of a melody. “don’t… let me go,” you had whispered.

but he did. again.

bright lights, neon signs, and synth music — this life was so different, yet you were still you. your smile was framed by pink lipstick and bubblegum, your hair teased high with streaks of color. choso sat in the corner booth every day, ordering the same milkshake just to see you glide over on those ridiculous skates.

“strawberry again?” you teased one day, spinning effortlessly to set the glass in front of him. “you know, for a guy like you, i’d expect something a little darker.”

he almost smiled. almost. “it’s not about the drink.”

“oh?” you leaned closer, resting your chin on your hand. “what’s it about, then?”

you. but the word stayed caught in his throat.

instead, he watched as you laughed, skating off to the next customer, always just out of reach.

now, in this life, he saw you again. modern clothes, a phone in your hand, but the same soul burning behind your eyes. you didn’t recognize him, of course.

you never did.

but he felt his chest tighten as he stood in the shadow of a crowded street, watching you smile at someone else.

“you’re cruel,” he whispered, his voice heavy with despair. “how many times do i have to lose you?”

your laughter floated through the air, untainted by the burdens of memory. you didn’t know the weight you carried for him, how many times he had watched you fade, how many times he had buried his heart.

for a moment, he let himself step closer, close enough to feel the warmth of your presence. when you turned, your gaze swept over him without recognition, and he felt his chest shatter.

“do i know you?” you asked, your head tilted in polite curiosity.

he swallowed hard. “no,” he said finally, forcing himself to step back.

“but i know you.”

this concept was inspired by my immortal lover sukuna post, which is a lot more soft than this one, if you wanna read that. thanks for reading 'till here <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[epicthemusicalstuff]

I CRYUNG I NEED SOMEONE TO SUM UP ALL ETM SONGS MY. MEMORY + ATTENTION SPAN IS SO BAD

Let’s speed run epic the musical so far!! (It’s under the cut cause even a summary is gonna take a bit for 35 songs-)

Horse and the Infant:

Giant horse- ATTACK! ZEUS?!?! What are you doing here? I have to kill a baby? But he’s just a little thing-

Just a Man:

This little boy reminds me of my son. Is killing him the morally correct thing to do? Yeet.

Full Speed Ahead:

Let’s introduce our main cast! Wow! Polites- Eurylochus- Odysseus! BFFs forever! We’re hungry- let’s go to this island and look for food!

Open Arms:

Wow Odysseus, you are looking hella tense, maybe you should try being nice and not so mistrustful. Look at these little creatures eating lotus fruit- wow this fruit is bad for you- let’s go to this cave to find food!

Warrior of the Mind:

Athena and Odysseus back story. Odysseus, your actions aren’t very Warrior of the Mind coded. Don’t disappoint me.

Polyphemus:

Let’s kill these Sheep!! NOOO! Scary Cyclops, we killed his sheep, now he will kill us.

Survive:

HES GOT A CLUB. He is killing us- NO POLITES. Oh, Polyphemus is asleep now cause he drank spiked wine.

Remember Them:

Odysseus tricks Polyphemus. They almost get away, and then he GIVES OUT HIS FULL NAME, JOB POSITION, ADRESS, AND SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER.

My Goodbye:

Athena is disappointed and they have a big messy friend break up.

Storm:

There is a big storm. Wow! A floating island! Let’s go!

Luck Runs Out:

Captain, you keep taking risks and not thinking this through. What happens if your plans fail?

Keep Your Friends Close:

Hahahahahaha! Here is a bag of wind! Don’t open it! Oh- the winions told you to open it? No!! Penelope- I’m hallucinating! Darn- the bag is opened.

Ruthlessness:

You hurt my son. So now I’m gonna kill most of your men. What’s this- a daring escape? Well- I’ll get you sooner or later-

Puppeteer:

An island. Let’s explore! Oh no- scary lady, she turned us into pigs! Let’s run Captain! Or not I guess.

Wouldn’t You Like:

Hey kid, this scary lady could kill you. How about some magic drugs? Totally safe and all.

Done For:

We are evenly matched- big magic fight! Wow! The magic drugs Hermes gave you really are something. Are you trying to seduce me?

There Are Other Ways:

Wow, you really are trying to seduce me. Too bad- I have a wife I love. Wait- you’ll help us? THE UNDERWORLD WHAT?

The Underworld:

We are haunted by everyone we have lost- Polites- wait- MOM?!? I’m too late-

No Longer You:

This dead prophet should tell me what we want to know- wait- what no- this is actually terrible? We came to you for help but now you’re saying you can’t help us? WHO?!a

Monster:

Maybe Poseidon was onto something, and we do have to be ruthless. Welp, time to become the monster y’all.

Suffering:

Ooo, Penelope, I love you, but you know I’m too shy. I don’t want to get in the water-

Different Beast:

SURPRISE I KNEW YOU WERENY MY WIFE. I actually did become the monster, and now I’m going to kill all your friends you Siren!

Scylla:

This is the only way home. Eurylochus, what do you mean you opened the wind bag back in Keep Your Friends Close. Light six torches- oh no, a giant monster is eating our crew. Me and her are the same you know.

Mutiny:

Captain why did you do that? Fight fight fight! Oh no- Odysseus has been stabbed. I’m hungry, let’s eat cows. Oh no, they were a gods cows. We knew that but still ate them. Now Zeus is gonna kill us.

Thunders Bringer:

Zeus is here. You can live, or your crew can live. But like- Penelope. Sorry crew. Crew dies.

Legendary:

It’s me! Telemachus! I never knew my dad- I wish I could know my dad. All these suitors want to marry my mom. I wish I could fight them. DONT CALL MY MOTHER A TRAMP!

Little Wolf:

Fight Little Wolf Fight- we are going to beat you up just cause you were in the way. WOW. ATHENA?? What are you doing here- we haven’t seen you since the second saga! Ow.

We’ll Be Fine:

I’m going to help you cause I feel guilty about your dad. Bet. We are best friends now. Go find my dad.

Love In Paradise:

Rewind- Morning! You were asleep. I’m in love with you now. Ew back away I have a wife. You’re a goddess??? Oh no- now I’m really depressed. I’m haunted by the ghosts again- ATHENA!

God Games:

Zeus- father- release Odysseus. *lots of convincing Gods* NO, YOU DID WHAT I ASKED SO NOW IM MAD. LIGHTNING BOLT. Is she- dead?

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You:

Yes I kept you trapped against you power, but I loved you- why won’t you love me back? It’s not like you have a whole literally family waiting for you-

Dangerous:

HAHAHAHA. Hello old friend! Let’s do some cool dance moves as I tell you how you will get back home. Here is a wind bag 2.0! Let’s hope you don’t have issues with it this time!

Charybdis:

Another obstacle!! But I know how to beat you!! Woo! I see home- I’m almost there! WAIT NO! NOT AGAIN!

Get In The Water:

Poseidon! Please let me get home- I already told Siren Penelope, I don’t want to get in the water! Can’t we get along? No! Drowning-

Six Hundred Strike:

Use the wind bag! I’m out of the water! SIX HUNDRED STRIKE! You’re beat Poseidon- let me go home. What’s this? You won’t. TIME FOR VIOLENCE. Stab. Stab. Stab. Next to my WIFE.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you have any advice on making a living working in historic preservation? I feel like every opportunity in the field (ex. Local historical societies) is volunteer work, which I do, but I also need money!

:)

:) :) :) :)

I am so sorry but you've hit upon the main employment problem with this field: it is wildly underpaid. Especially if you want to do something with museum content/collections/preservation rather than admin.

The issue is, this system (at least in the US, where I live) started out in the late 19th century being run by people who had a lot of free time and a LOT of money already. Married upper-class women, rich men- often gay, interestingly enough -with academic turns of mind, etc. They didn't need the money, so they built a structure designed to function that way. And for many years a lot of this work continued to be done by volunteers.

Except then people came along with the audacity to want to make a career out of it. Without enough generational wealth to not need payment! Oh no!

So now there are not enough full-time jobs in the field for people who want them, unfortunately. They're out there! But you might have a hell of a time getting into one.

I'd say to look for bigger orgs over small ones, or small orgs in big cities. We love a tiny house museum in the middle of nowhere, but they often have the smallest budgets in a world of small budgets. Also, consider starting out part-time and trying to work your way up (just make sure the org has full-time employees first). Making connections is paramount- I've only had part-time museum jobs so far, but I never got a single one just by applying online. You can, but it helps a lot to have someone say "hey, the Fancyman-Spinsteracademic-Wepromisewe'rereckoningwithslaverynow House is hiring; want me to put in a good word for you?"

Alternately, learn some hands-on preservation skill like carpentry or horology (working with mechanical clocks- PLEASE learn horology if you go this route; all the horologists are 80 and they keep dying) could be a way to get specific talents that historical site museums can't function without and will therefore pay for when the budget allows. In cities with lots of historical architecture that they actually care about preserving- so not NYC, apparently -there are often independent companies that specialize in different aspects thereof. Historical window repair, historical plastering, historical brickwork maintenance, etc. Trying to get hired by one of those is a way to go into preservation without working in museums. Private auction houses or antiques dealers can also be an option, if you're more into the Collections Objects side of things.

I don't mean to make it sound bleak. My eight-year career in museums has been entirely part-time collections/interpretation/admin jobs stitched together, and while I'm sick of the "underpaid and relying on my parents to pay for my insurance" aspect (yes, I freely admit it; I'm a lowkey continuation of the Can't Work In Museums If You Don't Have Family Financial Support tradition and very very lucky to be able to do what I do, and yet even I'M frustrated and tired and over it), it is deeply fulfilling work that I consider highly worthwhile and important. And there ARE avenues to make a decent living in it!

I just want to explain the phenomenon you're seeing and give you realistic expectations.

Best of luck!

[riririnnnn]

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[chimneyz]

"You don't find it, you make it"

Buck has lived with those words for years now, those words lived in the back of his mind for some time, honestly he nearly forgot about those words. But recently those words have resurfaced in his mind coming to the forefront. Buck stopped looking, knowing that it would never just stumble upon him, he had to make it. And he wanted to make it with Tommy.

Buck was never great at gifts for his partners, (family and friends were easy, partners on the other hand...) but Buck knew exactly what he was going to give to Tommy this Christmas.

It was June, Buck started to do his very delayed spring cleaning around his loft. (Who could blame him for doing it so late, his life has been a whirlwind and it just started to slow down) Luckily for him he actually had some help this year with it, Eddie and Maddie have refused to do so ever since he moved into the place. It's not like Buck needs the help, he's a grown adult, but it's nice to have the company. This year he had Tommy to help.

"Hey," Tommy smiled with a small peck of the lips while walking into Buck's apartment, "Eddie warned me to stay as far away as possible while you had a clipboard in your hands... should I be concerned?"

"What?" Buck scoffed, he's gonna have to have a word with Eddie when this was all over, "I am just proficient, there is nothing wrong with having an organized list!"

Buck grabbed Tommy by the hands leading him to the kitchen, "We are going to start at opposite ends and meet in the middle, I need you to first start with reorganizing the fridge. Here I made a crude chart of what it's supposed to look like." Buck shoved a clipboard into Tommy's hand-labeled 'kitchen', "And don't do it like how you have your fridge, it's a complete disaster, follow the instructions."

"There is something wrong with how I organize my fridge?" Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Buck exasperated, "Who puts raw chicken in the same compartment as their vegetables!"

"Oh I see what they meant about 'Clipboard Buck'," Tommy chuckled, "Not gonna lie Evan it's kind of hot."

"No, no flirting Mr. we have work that has to be done." Buck kissed Tommy on the cheek and headed up the stairs.

It's when Buck was cleaning up his closet when he found the scrapbook, he never knew why exactly he saved it, but there it is resting in the corner of the closet. Those fateful words now ringing in his mind over and over. Then it clicked, the light bulb over his head sprang to life. A scrapbook! It was perfect.

For the next few months, Buck would bring a camera with him wherever the two of them went, hiking, to the beach, a picnic, dinner dates, everywhere.

"Why do you keep bringing that camera with you? What exactly are you planning Evan?" Tommy asked one night.

"You'll see, you just have to be patient," Buck smirked.

He even took pictures on their casual days off, Tommy asleep in bed, Tommy cuddling with Buck on the couch, Tommy in the kitchen making morning coffee after a night of intimacy.

After a while, Buck took more pictures than he could count. By the beginning of autumn, Buck finally got the supplies for Tommy's Christmas present, he started putting it together piece by piece. It was a week and a half later Buck had the entire thing ready leaving space to add on more with a small note inside that read:

A while ago someone said you cannot find it, you have to make it, here it to our future and making us possible.

It was Christmas Eve when Buck walked into his loft alone. The 118 holiday party at Bobby and Athena’s new home filled him up with joy and laughter. He nearly forgot that he was supposed to be with someone else. He was looking forward to a day at Maddie and Chimney's home where he would spend even more time with his family. Another day to forget. But all of that rushed back to him as soon as he stepped foot in his loft. All he could think of was Tommy, his smile, his warmth, his laughter that he ached for. Tears started to sting his eyes as the door clicked behind him. He wondered if Tommy was thinking about him.

Buck rushed up the stairs, grabbed the wrapped scrapbook, and headed back downstairs. He grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor a small trash can and a few matches. Buck shivered in the oddly cool air on his balcony throwing the gift into the small metal can pouring the liquor over it. The small match ignited in Buck's hand after striking it across the side of the matchbox. He took a minute to look at the movement of the small flame, then dropped it into the small can.

Flames ate away at the glittery wrapping paper revealing the crinkly smile Buck yearned for underneath. The edges of the handmade book shrink to ash. Quickly, Buck grabbed the scrapbook unable to get go of it, his hands burned from the hot flames but he didn't care, to lose this would hurt even more. Buck dropped it on the ground stomping out the flames, in a pitiful tilt Buck gazed down at the book, gently picking it up and opening it. He went through the pages, the memories, tears started to stream down his face. Buck's body collapsed onto one of the outdoor chairs, flipping through the pages.

"I guess even making it doesn't work after all," Buck muttered choking on his tears.

[adore-laur]

DAD HARRY BLURB

someone requested them finding out the gender of baby #3 :) please reblog & give feedback!

——

Harry pulls into the parking lot of the bakery he used to work at irregularly, the faded burgundy bricks a familiar sight. It hasn't been revamped much from when he was in his mid-twenties and struggling to earn a livable wage by juggling pastry-making, bartending, and training to be a chef. While he's not necessarily fond of those stressful workplace memories, the one that stands out the most is when he saw your pretty face again in the bakery. It was fate at its finest, and the rest is cherished history. He'll always be grateful for this place.

Over five years later, he is back with exhilaration thrumming in his chest. He's older now, his life wildly different than before he met you—now, he has a steadfast romance that keeps getting better, two precious daughters, and another baby on the way, all in a house where the ocean breeze kisses his skin every morning. He never envisioned being lucky enough to live out his dream so profoundly.

Harry steps out of the car, enjoying the subdued sunshine. He spins his key ring around his pointer finger, a smile already lifting his lips as he shoulders the front door open. The scent of baked bread and hints of vanilla greets him, along with the bakery's owner, Doreen, who gives him a cordial wave. She's a short woman in her sixties who has been running the place since before Harry was born. The long grey braid tapering down her back swings back and forth as she wipes the storefront windows with a rag. An apron is tied around her waist, the well-worn fabric dusted with flour and smears of blue frosting. She hasn't changed one bit.

"Hello, dear," Doreen says, briefly pausing her cleaning to kiss his cheek. Even on her tiptoes, Harry has to bend down to close the gap. "I know something you don't!"

He inhales deeply, that warm thrum returning. "You sure do."

She grins mischievously. "It's in the fridge, top left shelf. Help yourself."

Harry walks toward the two-section glass fridge behind the counter. A week ago, you did a blood test that could detect the baby's gender earlier than an ultrasound. At your request to keep it a secret for now, the obstetrician wrote the results down and sealed it in an envelope, which Harry then brought to the bakery and ordered a two-tier vanilla cake with either pink or blue frosting inside. Only the baker would know until it was sliced into by you and him. You both wanted a different type of reveal this time around. Last pregnancy, it was kept a surprise until birth. You're both too excited to wait this time.

"Thank you again for doing this," Harry says, taking the white bakery box with a yellow sticky note that has Styles Family scribbled on it. "If you ever need extra help around here, don't hesitate to give me a call."

"Oh, don't worry about me." Doreen places her hands on her hips, winking at him. "I'm sure you have your hands full at home."

He laughs softly. "I do, but they're wonderful little helpers. I could always bring them in, even if it's just to taste test."

"How old are they now?"

"Four and one. Our oldest is in her first year of preschool."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "Goodness, how time flies. Plus a bun in the oven?"

"She's eleven weeks," he replies, smiling proudly.

"How is she feeling?"

Harry thinks back to when he left this morning, leaving you lying in bed sandwiched by the kids still in their pajamas. "Pretty fatigued, but she knows what to expect by now. She's doing everything she can to stay motivated."

"Well, I was happy to hear the news and so honored to be one of the first ones to know such a special secret," Doreen says, pinching his earlobe affectionately. "I baked my best cake for you. Oh, that reminds me!" She scurries over to a nearby table to retrieve a wrapped plate with an assortment of desserts, no doubt baked by her. "These are for you and your girls."

Harry's heart swells, and he pecks her cheek with gratitude. "We appreciate it so much. And I'm serious: I'll put my old apron back on if you need me to. I still know how to make a mean batch of macarons."

She shoos him away with her cleaning rag. "Go on, you silly boy. Be with your family."

He beams on his way out of the bakery, wanting nothing more.

——

Harry arrives back home in the late morning, feeling grateful that it's the weekend. The house is quiet, and he'd bet money that his girls are in the same position he left them an hour ago. Arguably, that's what Sundays are for—cuddles under warm sheets and no obligation to be anywhere else.

The front door snicks shut, and he walks the short distance to the kitchen to set the cake box on the island. His fingers itch to open it and sink a knife into the layer of frosting, but he refrains. The time will come.

Instead, he heads to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light. Sure enough, you're curled up with two little girls tucked into the outline of your body. Harry commits the view to memory before sitting on the edge of the mattress. You stir awake from a light sleep, your eyes opening and finding him. The first-trimester fatigue is obvious, and it's as endearing as it was the first time.

"Morning, lazybones," he says softly.

You yawn, stretching your arms, and the fierce urge to hold you close and never leave this bed rushes through him. "Hi. Did you get the cake?"

"I did." He strokes the bridge of your nose with his knuckle, sensing your lethargy. "Feeling okay?"

"So-so. I was a little queasy earlier."

"Did you eat yet?" he asks, and you shake your head in response. "Want me to make something?"

"I don't have much of an appetite, but I'm sure the girls would love a big breakfast," you say. Harry smiles, taking a moment to admire their innocent faces still deep in sleep. He hopes they're having pleasant dreams.

"Okay. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Wait for me, please." You carefully sit up with a dazed and adorable look in your eyes.

Harry sighs fondly and says, "You need to listen to your body. Don't resist rest."

Pouting, you shed the blanket and swing your legs over the bed, ignoring his sensible advice. "But my body's telling me that it misses you."

"Sweetheart..." He cuts himself off, realizing he has no way to refute that. He knows wholeheartedly because he feels it too. Working full-time and coming home to parent with you leaves little room for quality time together. Consequently, there was never time to squeeze a babymoon in the past four years. He'll have to ponder that idea more in-depth, especially now that your pregnancy is swiftly heading to the halfway mark. Probably smart to plan a trip during that sweet spot, when you're not too physically uncomfortable. He wants to have fun with you, away from the kids. Explore an exotic place and luxuriate in romance with no one around.

"Harry?" you say, pulling him out of his titillating trance. He was just beginning to envisage you naked on a canopy bed in Fiji, the evening sun casting over your dips and curves. Lying there all majestically, waiting for him to feast on you. Paradise personified.

"Sorry, just musing." He clears his throat and thinks of innocent things, like buttermilk pancakes and hash browns.

"Uh-oh," you reply playfully before standing up and leaving him with a tempting view of your bare legs. As you freshen up in the bathroom, Harry leans over his daughters and kisses their heads. They both stir minimally, their disheveled curls rustling against the pillows. He wonders if his genes will ever have mercy in that department when the next baby arrives.

Eventually, you follow Harry into the kitchen, and there's a familiar thrill in having a brief window of alone time before the kids require attention. He smoothly pulls you into his embrace and asks, "How's our baby?"

You look down at your stomach and lift the silk camisole covering it. "Finally making an appearance, I think."

Pulling back slightly, Harry assesses the tiny protrusion—it's much tinier than the last two were around the same eleven-week mark. "Oh, hello there," he murmurs with a winsome smile. The proof of you carrying a child is nearly unnoticeable, at least in a physical sense, but the smallness keeps it a secret from any outsiders. Inside this home, it's his to savor.

You laugh, silently marveling over it with him, then glance at the cake over his shoulder. "We could have cake for breakfast."

Harry pulls you close again and waddles your conjoined bodies forward until your back meets the island. "That depends on if you want to find out now or later. It's up to you."

Looping your arms around his neck, you contemplate for a few seconds before saying, "Let's wait until later tonight—at least until I'm feeling better."

"Absolutely. Maybe we can head down to the beach at sunset with the girls. Have a mini celebration."

You nod. "I'd like that."

"Done deal." The thin strap of your silk camisole slips down your shoulder, and Harry groans when the curve of your breast peeks out. He cups it in his palm, and your body reacts by pressing into him even further. "So, what's your final prediction?" he asks, kissing the tender flesh there and readjusting the strap. Focus, he tells himself. The girls need breakfast.

You make a show of thinking long and hard. "Unforeseen quadruplets? I'd be a medical mystery."

Harry narrows his eyes, suppressing a grin. "Hysterical." He widens his stance until he's the same height as you. "C'mon, give it to me."

"Final prediction is... girl," you say assuredly. That word tugs at his heartstrings, the ones belonging to the instinctive protectiveness he has toward his daughters.

"I'm sticking with boy," he says for the sake of a friendly husband-wife competition.

You quirk your brow and slowly back out of his embrace. "I can't believe you're not trusting my womanly intuition."

"I've guessed correctly the last two times," he reminds you. "Don't underestimate my mojo."

"All right. Best of luck, baby."

——

Harry shivers in an overdramatic fashion while holding his youngest daughter, and she giggles, thoroughly entertained. He always enjoys the walk down to the private beach, where the expansive view never ceases to amaze him. At sunset, it's even more phenomenal. The wind carries a coolness to it, and the sky transpires into heavenly hues of lavender, teal, and marigold. No matter the weather, he makes an effort to watch it fade into the night alongside his family.

Tonight is extra special, and as he glances back at you trailing behind with the cake box and two empty champagne glasses in one hand and your eldest's small hand in the other, his excitement intensifies. He was patient all afternoon, even crawling back in bed with you and the girls to bask in a catnap under the warm sheets. Afterward, the laziness continued as you all watched a movie together on the couch and ate takeout. Now it's time for dessert.

Near the shoreline, Harry sets down his youngest and removes the quilted blanket from around his shoulders. He shakes it out and watches her toddle on the sand. She just started walking on her own last month, and he can never be too cautious with her curious nature. There's nothing more bloodcurdling than a child wandering off without a sound.

The girls go off to play with their dolls near the sandcastle they built near the hammock. It's far enough from the waves for them to be semi-unsupervised.

Harry lays the blanket down and sits. You join him, passing over the glasses. He brought a bottle of grape juice as a substitute for wine.

After pouring juice into each glass, Harry hands one over to you and lifts his in the air. "Cheers to growing our beautiful family. Cheers to being happy, healthy, and perpetually sleep-deprived. We make an amazing team, and... I just love you. Inexplicably so." He clinks his glass with yours and takes a hearty sip, never taking his eyes off you.

"Cheers," you say, letting the tart liquid travel down your throat.

Harry rubs his palms together and says, "Ready?"

You give him a smile only he knows the meaning of. "Let's have some cake."

He slides the box over and fingers open the seal. When he lifts the top, you shuffle forward and melt into his side, staying there as he stares at the coating. It's only plain white buttercream frosting with swirly pink and blue dollops caressing the circular edge, but the part that makes him teary-eyed is the cursive icing that reads Baby Styles. Although it's his third and most likely last child, the feeling never gets old. Every newborn experience challenges him in an entirely new way. It's unexpected, enlightening, and emotionally rewarding. And to do it by your side is the greatest accomplishment he'll ever know.

Wiping the corners of his eyes, Harry picks up the knife. You place your hand over his grip on the handle and kiss his bicep. "No peeking," you say, closing your eyes.

Harry does the same and rests his forehead against yours. Slowly, he maneuvers the knife to blindly cut a triangular slice. His heart pounds in anticipation. The bet he made with you doesn't matter anymore. Either outcome, he'll be ecstatic.

"You look first," he whispers, his lips brushing yours with each syllable.

"No, you do it," you whisper back.

"You know, we never discussed what the prize is for whoever guessed correctly," he says, shifting the knife so the slice breaks free.

"I know what I want."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, nudging his nose with yours. "Tell me.”

"I want to go on vacation somewhere far away, just me and you."

"Remember what happened last vacation?" His eyes are still closed, and vivid memories play behind his lids.

"Yes, I do,” you say. “You got me pregnant, but that was only because there was something in the Italian air."

He laughs and captures your lips in a quick kiss. "Is that the only reason? I seem to recall you—"

"Daddy, what flavor is the pink stuff?"

Harry's eyes shoot open, and for a split second, he sees that yours are still shut as his head whips toward his eldest daughter skipping over with her favorite doll in tow. His youngest follows her, picking up handfuls of sand along the way.

Brows furrowed, he looks at you again to find you staring at the cake with a dumbstruck expression. He honestly forgot it was there, too caught up in the intimate moment he was sharing with you, where the darkness enhanced the warm sensations of his skin touching yours, the grape scent of your breath, and the way your sensual words sent shivers down his spine.

All that floats away when he sees creamy pink frosting in the middle of the sponge cake. It's a delicate shade of pink similar to the newborn hospital hat they put on his firstborn daughter. Similar to the sunrise the day his second daughter decided to come into the world.

Pink. Another baby girl.

Making a spontaneous choice, Harry pulls his sweater off and sprints full speed toward the ocean, shouting with glee. He hears your shocked guffaw as he tumbles forward into the shallow water. The coldness is a shock to his system, but it doesn't compare to the fact that you're having a girl. He hoped for it deep in his heart. He dreamt it.

You walk over to him, eyes glassy and holding a large forkful of cake. "I was right!"

Harry heaves big breaths, adrenaline rushing through his blood vessels. His sweatpants are soaked, but it's the last thing on his mind. He clumsily reaches you and places his palms on your stomach, kissing it repeatedly. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he says, overwhelmed with emotion. He looks up, his next words intended for you. "You made our dreams come true, baby. And I don't know how to repay you, but I’ll try. I swear it.”

"You've already repaid me, Harry, by being the most devoted and dependable father to our girls."

He smiles, his cheeks hurting. "Three girls now. Holy shit.”

You collapse in his arms, crying and laughing with happiness. He catches you and gently brings you down to the sand. The wind whips around both your bodies, not able to penetrate the heat of this unforgettable moment.

Amidst bites of cake and promises of a couple's vacation to wherever your heart desires, a shout of "It's strawberry-flavored!" carries over, nestling deep in Harry’s heart.

Life couldn't be sweeter.

——

[justwhisperingfantasies]

You Belong With Me - One Shot

Characters: Reader (y/n) - Beau Arlen- Cassie Dewell - Jenny Hoyt - Denise Brisbane - Mo Poppernak - Tiffany (o.c)-Knox (o.c)-Pete (o.c) Mention of Cody Hoyt.

Warnings: Drinking, Language, Jealousy, Angst, Fluff, lmk if I missed any.

Summary: You're in love with your best friend, but he is with someone else. You try to move on when the new cute guy in town asks you on a date.

Word count: 4,042

Hope y'all enjoy it. 💜

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💜

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Reader's Pov

“I need a favor.” Cassie grimaced walking over to your desk.

“What now?” you playfully whined.

“I need you to go sweet talk your bestie about the getting a copy of the report.

“Cass, I don’t think he’ll be ok with that.” You took a drink of your coffee. “They sealed it.”

“Oh, come on it’s you. He’ll at least let you see it. I just need a couple dates.” You gave him an unamused look “Please.” You sighed and picked up your phone. “Thank you (y/n) I owe you one”

“Yea, yea, yea” you teased as you opened your contacts, you scrolled until you found his picture and tapped the call icon next to it. You put the phone up to your ear as it begins to ring.

“Hello Darlin’.” His gruffy voice stirred up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hello, Sheriff Arlen.” You said in your best flirty voice. He chuckled. You returned to your normal voice. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s been alright. Checking up on paperwork. How’s yours?”

“Eh ok, I guess. I was just sitting here thinking and ya know what I  realized?”

“What’s that?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I haven’t told my best friend was a handsome son of a bitch he is today."

He laughed. “What do you want?”

“Beau Arlen, I had offended you would accuse me of kissing ass to get something!”

He stayed silent for a second. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you want.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’ll be there in 15.”

“Oh lord. What are you getting me into now sweetheart?”

“See ya soon.”

As you walk up to the front doors of the sheriff’s station armored with a paper sack containing one of Beau’s favorite sandwiches from a local dinner, you pass Mo. He tipped his hat.  “Mornin', little lady.” He said with a smile.

“Deputy.” You returned the smile with a nod.

“He’s in his office.” He told you as you grabbed the door handle.

“Thanks Pop!” you walked in and made your way back to his office, but he wasn’t there. You grin as an idea pops into your hand. You sit in his chair and clear a space. Careful not to mess up his organized chaos. Leaning back, you plop your boots on his desk and cross your ankles. When he opens the door ⁴ you lean back further and cross your arms behind your head.

He laughed. “Please make yourself at home.”

“Just trying to see how the other half lives.” You smiled at him. He laughed again. “Now I hope you don’t mind, but I did some paperwork organizing while I waited.”

He pressed his lips together and flared his nostrils. “Please tell me your kidding.”

Your grimaced “I thought I was helping.” You said as you sat up.

He rushed over to his paperwork and started looking through the piles. You inhaled through your nose as he leaned in front of you, taking in his intoxicating scent of blue vetiver, sandalwood and citrusy notes. He always smelled so good.

You started laughing. “Beau, I’m just messing with you. I know better than to mess with your system.” You put air quotes on the word system.

“Hey, my desk, my process.” He finally noticed the paper sack sitting on the empty side of his desk. “Is that?” he looked at you and pointed to the bag. You nodded. “Oh, you can have whatever you want.” He said as he unwrapped his sandwich.

You smiled. “Now remember you said that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to it.” He said in between bites.

“I need a copy of the Goodwin report.” You gave him a big smile. He swallowed and his face went hard. “Or just the dates. Cassie has a theory, and she needs dates to confirm it.” you puckered your lips and stuck out your bottom one.” He stared at you, his face still hard as stone. “Please B.” You pleaded.

“Ya know you are putting me in a very difficult position sweetheart.”

“Nobody would know.” You turned on your puppy dog eyes.

He sighed “I can’t give you a hard copy, but I can give you dates...”

“That’s all I need.”

He leaned over you again onto his keyboard. “Look away.”

You rolled your eyes. “So paranoid.” You put your hands over your eyes. You can hear the lead on paper and he starts to hum. “Are you humming Elvis?”

“Yes. Ya know you never cease to amaze me. Not many people could recognize an Elvis song from a hum.” He stopped writing. “Alright.” He turned to face you and leaned against his desk. He held out the piece of paper but snatched it back as you reached for it. “Hold on there darlin’ he haven’t agreed on a price yet.”

Your jaw dropped. “Beaufort Arlen.” He rolled his eyes. That wasn’t his name and you knew it, but you could resist calling him that. His reaction was adorable.  “You want me to offer you a bribe?”

“No, not a bribe. More like one hell of a good cook persuading her handsome sheriff friend with her famous chicken and dumplings” He winked at you.

“Fine, but I won’t have time tonight.” You bargained. “I’ll drop them off tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah. You’re date.” You nodded. “Maybe if you keep this one around you guys could double with me and Tiffany.” You rolled your eyes when he said her name, “Don’t be mean (y/n). She regrets what she did, and Things have been good lately.”

“Yeah, ok.” You stood up and he handed you the piece of paper. “Thanks for your help sheriff.” You head towards the door

He sighed. “Any time.”

Reader's Pov

“How did he smell today?” Denise asked you as you walked into the office.

You smiled and took a deep breath remembering his cologne. “Dreamy.”  You sink down in the chair in front of her desk.

She smiled. “And tell me why you never asked him out again?”

“Never got the chance. Tiffany just keeps weaseling her way back in, but” you pointed your finger at her. “I am over Beau Arlen.” She raised her eyebrows. “I am Denise. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, He’s name is Knox.”

“Oh, the new guy! He so cute.”

“I know. Which is why I said yes when he asked me out.” You turned your head as you heard the bell that hung above the door. “Speaking of cute.”

Cassie smiled. “Did you get it?”

“I got the dates. He said he couldn’t make me a copy.” You held out the paper for her.

“That will work.” She took it. “Thank you.” she started walking to her desk.

“Welcome.” You called after her.

“Well, I should probably get back to work, got a big ol’ pile of nothing to get back to.

“Hon you’ve closed 3 cases in the last 2 weeks, I’d say it’s a good time for a break.” Denise advised.

“Or you could do some digging for me and give me something to do.” You said with a smile.

“I can try, maybe you should call Beau.” She smiled and you rolled your eyes.

You made your way back over to your desk. You turn your computer on as you sit down. Drumming your finger while you watch the loading screen you decide to text him. You take your phone out of your jacket pocket and open it to your existing conversation.

Y/N: Beaufort

You opened your email while you waited for a reply. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Your phone buzzed.

Beau: I’m all out of favors today darlin’

Y/N: Rude of you to assume I’m only texting you for a favor. I was actually gonna ask you if you needed help with anything.

Beau: Calm down. It was a joke. Not today. I’m still stuck at the office I have to get this paperwork done TODAY.

Y/N: Damnit. I need something to do.

Beau: Why don’t you go home early and get ready for this big date you have tonight.

Y/N: My big date isn’t until 7.  Are you saying I need 5 hours to pretty myself up.  🤔

Beau: You roll out of bed beautiful, and you know it. Just think you deserve to pamper yourself every once in awhile

Y/N: Nice save.

You hit the send button and turn off your screen. “Cassie!” You yelled.

“Yea?” she yelled back.

“Please tell me you need help with something!”

“Actually yes.”  You jumped out of your seat and rushed to her desk. “Are you that bored?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m freaking dying here.” She handed you the papers in her hand and started giving you the run down of the case she was working on.

“I’m right.” Cassie whispered as you finish  reading the dates that were in Beau’s handwriting to her.

“You’re right.” You reassured her.

“Holy shit. I have to go talk to Jenny.” She pulled her coat on. “See you at the bar tonight.”

“Um probably not. ”

“I’m sorry I forgot, I hope I don’t see you tonight,” she winked at you. “Can we give this one a fighting chance though?”

“Hardy har, har.”

Beau’s Pov

He sat down at the bar and looked up at the clock. 8:55. She’d probably be getting rid of the loser and walking through the door any minute now. “Hey Pete.” He said as the bartender approached him on the other side of the bar.

“How’s it going sheriff?” Pete said as he sat on a beer and a shot glass in front of Beau.

“We may need a bigger glass.” He told Pete as he poured the whiskey.

“That bad huh?” Pete asked. Beau just shook his head. He downed the shot of whiskey.

“I don’t know Jenny. She seemed different about this one.” Cassie said as her and Jenny walked up to the bar. “Hey Beau.”

“Ladies” Beau said tipping his hat.

“You want some company?” Jenny said as she sat on the barstool beside him.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, geez don’t get too excited.” Cassie teased sitting on the other side of him

“What’s gotcha down?” Jenny asked as she got Pete’s attention. He brought over 2 more beers and 2 shot glasses for the girls. “

“Paperwork day, Jenny”

“Oh, that’s right.” Pete began pouring their shots and a second one for Beau. “Cheers” Jenny said holding the full shot glass up. Beau and Cassie repeated. The three of them took their shots and sat the glasses on the bar.

Beau looked up at the clock again, 9:00. Come on where was she?

“Pete, can we just get a bottle?” Jenny said grabbing her beer and her glass. Pete grabbed an unopened bottle of the same whiskey and handed it to her. “Thank you. Can you put it on my tab?” Pete nodded. “Grab your glasses and bottles.” She led them over to a high top by the dart board.

“You really wanna play darts?” Beau asked sitting his beer and glass on the table.

“Well not really, but it gets you away from that clock.”

“Touche.”

“Come on. We’ll make it fun. Every time someone gets a bullseye, we drink, every time someone misses the board, we drink.” Jenny persuaded.

“Every time someone throws a dart, we drink.” Cassie teased making Beau chuckle.

Jenny grabbed 3 darts of different colors, handing one color to Cassie and another to Beau. “Alright.” He gestured for her to go first.

They took turns throwing the darts on the board and he was actually having a decent time. After 3 shots he checked his phone. 9:30. What the hell.

“Well, I guess (y/n)’s date must be going well. 2 and a half hours. No calls, no texts, and she hasn’t shown up here yet.” Cassie said.

“Or she’s at home drinking alone.” Beau rebuttals

Jenny poured another round of shots. They clinked and downed them. “Beau, you’re up.”

As he was throwing his last dart, he heard Jenny let a whistle out. There she was finally. Beau threw his dart and turned around. His heart nearly exploded in his chest. She was wearing olive green western looking dress, low cut, very low cut. The lower hem dangle over her cowboy boots, His eyes traced up to her face, God she was just beautiful. Makeup done up all nice and her hair in curls under a cowboy hat that matched her boots. What he wouldn’t give to be the guy holding her hand right now. It should be him not this pretty country boy wannabe. Ugh he rolled his eyes. She smiled at them and mouthed the words oh my god as they made their way to the bar.

“Damn she looks good.” Jenny exclaimed.

“So does her date!” Cassie added as they sat down at their table. He purposely sat in the chair facing the opposite direction.

“He ain’t that good lookin’.” Beau sneered.

“Oh Beau. Don’t be jealous. You know we love you too.” Cassie teased.

His ears got hot as he heard her laugh. Clearly, she was interested in this guy.  He huffed and poured himself a shot.

“Hey pretty lady!” Cassie said as (y/n) walked up to the table.

She smiled. “Hey guys. This is Knox.”  She gestured towards him. “Knox. These are my best friends. Jenny,” Jenny put out her hand the Knox shook it. “Cassie.” They repeated. “And this is Beau.”

He put his hand out “Sheriff Beau Arlen. I’m sorry Knot was it” (y/n) glared at him.

Knox chuckled. “No sir, Knox” he emphasized the x on the end. “With a x”

“My bad.” Beau said with a smile.

“So, tell us Knox what do you do?” Jenny asked.

“I’m a veterinarian.” She raised her eyebrows at Cassie.

“Oh, are you going to work at Andy’s place?” Jenny asked

“Until I take it over.” Jenny and Cassie furrowed their eyebrows. “Andy is my dad. He is fixin’ to retire within the next year or so.”

Beau’s phone started to ring. “That’s probably Tiff.” He noticed (y/n)’s eye roll. “I should get going anyways. See you girls tomorrow. Box nice meeting you.” She shook her head. “Good night y’all.”

Reader's Pov

Today was your return to the office after taking a 3-day week. You and Knox made things official after 4 weeks of dating. He took you out to his family’s lake house for the weekend to celebrate. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

A big grin spread across Denise’s face when she looked up “How was he. I mean it? “

You chuckled. “It was good.” You turn to walk to your desk

“The weekend or the sex?” she asked.

“Both.” You said and started walking. She chuckled.

As you sat down your phone started ringing. You looked at the screen “Really?” you said out loud. It was Beau, you haven’t really seen or talked to him in about 2 or 3 weeks, only in passing. Wonder what he wants you thought to yourself.

“Beaufort. What’s wrong?”

“You busy today?”

“not sure I just got in.”

“ok well find out and let me know. I need you.”

“Ok. Let me talk to Cass and I’ll call you back.”

“Ok.” He hung up.

“Ok Beau.” You opened the door to find him pacing in his office. “what’s wrong?”

“Should I ask Tiffany to marry me?” He blurted out.

“Um excuse me?” You practically fell into the nearest chair as your legs went numb from shock.

“So, this morning as I was leaving Tiffany stopped me and told me 3 years is long enough to know whether I want to marry her or not.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Well, what did you tell her?”

“I told her I couldn’t do this right now. I had to get to work. And if I was gonna ask her to marry me it was going to be on my terms. Not her forcing me into it.”

You know the question you had to ask, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want the answer. Your heart hastened as you though over what he would say. “ Do you want to marry her?” you couldn’t hid the quiver in your voice.

“I don’t know.”

You pulled on the bill of your baseball cap trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. “Do you love her?”

“ I’ve stuck by her through everything. The lying, the cheating.”

“That’s not what I asked B.” You began to blink rapidly trying everything that wasn’t too obvious to dry out your eyes.

“Why would I do all that if I didn’t.” He stopped mid step. “I think I should just do it. We’ve been together this long. And I’ll probably be with her for the rest of my life anyhow.”

“Well that’s a hell of a reason.” The words came out before you could stop them.

“Look I know you’re not here biggest fan, but I do care for her. It’s going to be hard to keep a friend that is mean to my fiancée don’t ya think.”

You shot up out of the chair. The nervousness and pain you felt turned into a white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me right now Beau?!” Your hands begin to shake. You can’t hold back the things you’ve been dying to say for so long. “She cheated on you for 2 months. Several times. It’s not like it was a one-time mistake. God, I swear you’re as dumb as a box of rocks! I have absolutely no idea why you would stay with her. And if you really wanna marry someone that takes the greatest person on the face of this earth for granted, then be my freakin guest.” He just looked at you with a dumbfounded look on your face. Tears started coming back and you didn’t bother trying to stop them. “Beau you are my best friend, and I love you, but I can not and will not sit here and watch you throw your life away and marry her.” He opened his mouth; you continued not giving him a chance to argue. “I really don’t want to be this person, and I hate that I am saying this. but I can’t be your friend if you do this.” You walked out the door, not giving him the chance to tell you he was going through with it anyway. You heard him yell after you, but you couldn’t stop. You just wanted to get away from everything.

Beau’s Pov.

He sighed as he got back into his Defender. He pulled his phone out to call (y/n) for the 17th time, straight to voicemail. “Son of a bitch.” He yell as he hit the steering wheel. He scrolled in his contracts and hit the green icon. “Cassie.”

“What’s up Beau?”

“Please tell me you’ve from (y/n)”

“I thought she was with you.”

“Are you at the office?”

“Yea? What the hell happened Beau?”

“Ill tell you when I get there.”

Denise and Cassie jumped as Beau charged through the door. “You guys really haven’t seen or talked to her?” He asked.

“No. Tell us what happened!” Cassie demanded.

“Well, I called her and told her I needed her help. I was given an ultimatum this morning.” Cassie raised her eyebrows. He went over the fight with them. “And then she stormed out.”

“Oh, Beau. I can’t believe you don’t see it” Denise realized what she had said and put her hands over her mouth.

“See what?” he asked

“Never mind. I’ll make some coffee.” Denise walked away.

“Her phone is going straight to voicemail. She’s not at the bar, not at her house. I tried the dinner, a couple parks I know she likes, I tried the gazebo by the lake, I have looked literally everywhere, Cassie, I can’t find her.” He was anxious and jittery. They have had some fights in the past. The one they got into was when he took tiffany back was especially bad, but she was always waiting at the bar for him with a beer and a shot.

“Just calm down. Give me a minute.” Cassie got up and walked to the kitchen. “What do you know Denise?”

“I shouldn’t had said anything.” She kept her back to Cassie. “It’s not my business.”

Cassie walked up to her and put her hand on Denise’s shoulder “Denise.”

“I thought it was pretty dang obvious, but I guess not. She’s in love with Beau. Has been since she’s known him. That’s why she never keeps a man around. She’s been hoping one day he would wake up and realize.”

Beau felt the air leave his lungs as he leaned on the kitchen doorframe. She was in love with him. This had to be a joke. What was so special about him? There’s no way someone like her could love him. “She’s in love with me?”

Cassie and Denise spun around. “Frick.” Denise said.

Cassie’s phone started to ring. “Hey (y/n).” His eyes shot to Cassie. She was nodding. “Alright. I understand. Take the day. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?” “If you need anything just call, ok?” ok.” Cassie hung up and walked to her desk. Beau followed. She started writing on a piece of paper.

“Are you going.”

“Go to the Strickland stables. Follow these directions.” She handed him the paper. “She’ll be there.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Trust me.” she shook the paper at him.

Reader’s pov.

You inhaled deeply looking out at the view as you sat on the wooden fence. You turned your head as you heard the swishing of the grass on jeans. “Cassie told you where I’d be huh?”

“She wrote me out directions.” He leaned on the fence beside you. “She told me you used to come here with your brother.”

“Yeah, Cody would bring me up here back in the day, when life got too stressful. When we were kids, he told me to throw my problems at the mountains and they would throw solutions back.” You said with a chuckled. The cold wind made the tear drop’s trails sting your skin.

“They give you anything good today?”

“Not really.”

“Can I try?”

You chuckled. “Sure.” He hopped over the fence and stood in front of you. After a minute or two he turned back to you with a big smile on his face. You hopped down. “What did they say?”.

He took a couple steps. He was close. “They told me to stop being such a chicken and do this. He pulled you into him, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in, the anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a swift, decisive movement, he dipped you backwards, your heels lifted off the ground, his lips meeting yours in a fervent collision, as your bodies pressed tightly together, the world around you faded away.

He brought you back up and rested his forehead against yours. “Well. That was. Some. Damn. Good advice.” You said between heavy pants. He chuckled and kissed you again. You smiled with wide eyes as a thought popped into your head.

“What?”

"I just realized that I have several more ways to persuade you now."

his head lifted as he let out a laugh.

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[posting-for-the-void]

So a lot of twins claim to have a sort of twintuition thing where they understand each other easily and often without words, and sometimes have high-level empathetic reactions to things that are happening to the other twin, even if they don’t know what’s happening to the other twin because they are in different locations at the time. There’s obviously not a lot of scientific evidence to back it up, but, eh. It’s a cool concept.

But what if, for the Skywalker twins, the force just ramped that up to 100.

Fic-ish thing below the cut.

Five-year-old Luke is learning the Tatooine slave language. After all, Aunt Beru used to be Beru Whitesun, before she married Uncle Owen, and his mom was Grandma Shmi, who used to be a Skywalker before she married Uncle Owen’s dad. Beru helps the recently-escaped hide in the secret compartment in the wall of their house more often than Owen does, but he claims it’s for plausible deniability, whatever that means. Leia, on Alderaan, begins mixing the harsh, clicking language with Basic subconsciously, but only when talking to herself in private. After all, she is a princess, and they must choose their words carefully in front of others.

Leia at age ten argues with her cousin about whether droids deserve respect, and across the galaxy, Luke is absolutely overcome with the need to thank every single droid he’s ever met for helping him with anything (he did this anyways before but for some reason he has to do it again Right Now).

Luke gets to drive a speeder by himself for the first time at 13 and Leia is practically begging for someone to take her out in a hovercar and go as fast as possible. And if that can’t happen she’s going to get the space equivalent of a Formula One racing sim, goddamnit.

Seventeen-year-old Junior Senator Leia’s heart skips a beat every time someone mentions Tatooine. She isn’t sure why. Obi-Wan lives there, yes, but something in her just knows that isn’t the real reason. Luke, meanwhile, yearns to see the galaxy, and often finds himself outside at night, staring at the sky. His eyes, for as long as he can remember, have always felt drawn towards a specific star. He asked Uncle Owen about it once when he was younger, and he gruffly explained that it was the Alderaan system. He feels like there’s something there, waiting for him. He’s not sure why.

And then they meet in person, and it’s “You’re a little short for a Stormtroope—Luke?”

“Leia?”

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. Can I hug you?”

“Of course, you idiot. You’re my twin brother. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thanks, Leia. You know, I had the weirdest dreams when I was ten about you and Old Ben.”

“Oh, yeah, that was actually real. I got kidnapped.”

“Cool.”

“Is it true you got nicknamed ‘Wormie’ by your friends?”

“…Yeah.”

And Han is so confused, but it’s fine, and within two hours their conversations are more like, “Hey, Leia, could you pass me the—“

“Yeah, do want the green one or the—“

“No, the blue one, probably. I need it to—“

“Oh, yeah, of course, that makes sense.”

And then Yoda tries to do the whole “Attached, you are,” routine, and Luke is like, “Well, duh. I’m only here so I can teach Leia everything I learn as soon as I get back. I’m just a pilot, which is a lot more replaceable than a princess, so we thought it would be best if I come learn from you instead of her.”

And meanwhile Leia is a lot stronger in the force now, and she meets Vader again and just goes, “Darth Dad, what the actual fuck,” under her breath in the Tatooine slave language, and the hint of Anakin that’s left absolutely freezes. Because Palpatine—Sideous—whatever, he said his kid was dead. He said that Padme died and the kid did too. He lied. And, when he meets Luke later, and he says the same Sithspitting thing, Anakin gets so thrown he accidentally cuts the kid’s hand off. Luke falls, and the shock of it in the force is so strong, and Anakin’s eyes flash blue in grief and love and hope, all at once, and all of the sudden he can think clearly for the first time in years. And his kids’—his kids!—bond in the force is so strong, how did he not notice it before?

And, anyways, I just feel like Skywalker Twintuition would be on a completely other and incomprehensible level.

[twentythree-yearoldlizard]

so based off the poll results, majority wanted me to write these one shots for a Marauders' Band AU. So here's the first one:

Remus Lupin does the BuzzFeed Puppy Interview:

Remus shoots the camera his shy smile that makes people’s stomach do the thing. “Hi there, I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions with puppies.”  

He’s wearing an all-black outfit: a black knit sweater that looks warm, paired with black trousers and sturdy black boots. His right wrist is adorned with bracelets; a plain black one with the word ‘moony’ next to a full moon, a beaded one with a star and moon on the centre and a band that reads ‘The Marauders’ with a wolf, dog, deer and rat. His left wrist is free, but he has multiple rings on those fingers.  

“I’m really excited and also a bit nervous, because I love dogs. I really do. But I want them to love me too, so,” he ends with a chuckle.

“I don’t know if they’re going to like me.”

Cuts to a clip of a puppy licking his entire face.

“I don’t know if we’ll connect.”

Cuts to a clip of Remus carrying two puppies, with another in between his legs.

“And I doubt I’m going to be able to answer your questions in any form, when I’m-Oh my god!” He’s cut off as a golden retriever runs towards him.

“Hi,” he says, letting the puppy smell his hands.

Remus coughs out a breathy laugh as the golden retriever jumps into his lap. Just then, a pair of corgis start nibbling on his shoelaces, to which Remus laughs and mutters, “You two are trouble, aren’t you?” They reminded him of James and Sirius.

Remus laughs for ten seconds as a Jack Russel walks slowly towards him and wastes no time on laying his head on Remus’ thigh and starts to fall asleep.

 “Hi loves, I’m Remus” he says, as one of the corgis joins the golden retriever on his lap.

Question 1- What’s your favourite thing about meeting fans?

“It’s just this…really nice feeling I get. Like I feel giddy, whenever a kid waves at me or some fans who’ve said that our songs helped them in tough times. It just gives this sort of nice feeling,”

“No..no,” he says as a corgi pulls on his sleeves, “this is one of my favourites, you can-okay then.” He finishes in defeat, as it manages to pull out a string.

Question 2- What’s the hardest part of being in a band?

“No privacy,” says Remus, he himself startled by how fast he answered. “I mean like...” he says, rubbing the Jack Russel’s belly, “When you live with James and Sirius, who have co-dependency issues, and Peter, whose love language is physical touch, you’ve got to throw personal space out the window.”

Question 3-Describe the way you see your bandmates.

Remus is quiet for a while, as if he’s thinking, while letting the puppies climb all over him.

“There’s James, who I connect with like a brother. He is a ray of fucking sunshine and if I am insecure or sad, he makes me listen to all the 764 reasons for why he loves me. And then there’s Peter, who is like the calmest person I know. He is the friend you need when you just want someone to listen to you. He is always there for you, even if he never says it, you’ll still know that he’s there for you.”

He smiles as the golden retriever settles on his shoulder and one of the corgis has decided to take a nap on top of Remus.

Remus starts with a smile, “And well there’s Sirius, who is one of the most beautiful souls out there. He’s one of the first people that made feel valued and always looked at my scars like they were some kind of treasure. He’s also made me realize a lot of things about myself and uh…yah, our bond is a bit more…special than the rest, and we’ve come a long way, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“I am scared to move,” he whispers, as the Jack Russel snores loudly on top of his thighs, golden retriever asleep on his shoulder, a corgi on his belly and the other held within his arms.

Bonus puppy stuff:

The corgis start fighting with each other. “Am I supposed this stop this or something?” Remus asks, looking lost. Just then one of the corgi trips and falls on the sleeping Jack Russel. It opens its eyes, confused. Remus bursts out laughing, which ends up making his face as red as a tomato (and that's a win for all the video editors out there).

PS: Its my first draft btw. i guess ive done good. lmk if its bad, i need honest feedbacks. also gonna put this on ao3, which is my first time ever. and this is set in pre-wolfstar period or they are established but hiding it from public (choose whichever you want)

[alexanderwales]

I use Windows Night Light to help my sleep schedule, and it sucks so much. Half the time it doesn't even turn on. When that happens, I have to manually go click "Turn Off" (even though it was clearly not on), then click "Turn On" again, at which point it works.

So I went to go see whether there was a fix for this, and I saw all kinds of inconsistent suggestions, and I tried some of them, and it didn't actually fix anything. There are complications that come with having certain graphics cards, or drivers, and ...

Alright, look, I was a software engineer for many years, I know that sometimes things are more complicated than they seem. However, I cannot fathom why "adjust monitor colors at X hour" is so difficult that there are pages upon pages of complaints about it not working. It should work in the vast majority of cases, and what shouldn't fix it is just clicking a button to stop it and then clicking a button to start it again.

What I'm saying is that I'm in the market for a program that will do this very simple job, since apparently the bad behavior of this one is something that's just not getting fixed.

flux is not it. While I'm exasperated by the continual issues with Night Light, I am actively angry with flux. I live fairly far north by American standards. Sunset for me, right now, is 4:30PM. I like to have normal colors on my computer when I am, e.g. watching a show, playing a game, looking at pictures, etc. I only really need the warm colors in the three or four hours before I go to sleep. Flux is free software, so I try to keep my cool, but "please let me set my time manually rather than by location" is their single most requested feature, and every time they say "oh actually flux is for having your screen be in harmony with the natural environment, you don't need that". Maybe this is just steadfast refusal to engage in scope creep, but I've read a bunch of forum messages asking for the same feature that I want, and the answers are always "I don't understand why you would want that" or something equally infuriating in spite of how many times someone says "I'm a Finnish graphic designer with weird working hours" or equivalent.

The standard workaround seems to be telling flux that you're located in a different part of the world than you actually are, but this is terrible UI, and you would also need to change it in accordance with the time of year unless you spent some time figuring out the correct spot that you don't live which works year-round for you.

(I saw another hilarious workaround on the flux forums where a guy set up a scheduled Windows task to kill and restart flux at specific times.)

So I hate flux, in spite of my commitment to not hate free software that did not cost me anything and has never asked for anything from me.

[meiguicha]

Handmade Love

Sunday x Reader - Idol AU

Please sunday pleasepleasepleek

//

Meticulously, a small hook goes between weaves of baby pink yarn as golden eyes peer over each stitch with intense focus. A few rows having already formed beneath his watchful hand, he briefly looks up just to check the short-hand instructions he had written down before continuining his work.

A few dolls standing at 10cm are standing in a single file line, each of them wear different articles of clothing ranging from hats and scarves to shoes and dresses. Regardless, everything on the pristine dolls are likewise crocheted with the same precision.

Photo cards, albums, photo booth frames, keychain replicas, the multiple dolls of your mascot, perhaps it would be more than safe to say that Sunday has a problem when it comes to you.

Of course, it wasn't as if he was throwing everything into a haphazard pile. That would be rude, to you and to him.

Just like the dolls, he had your photo books chronologically lined up on a shelf, CD's kept in their cases near the ones he bought of his sister's, not a single item was misplaced. Even the many clothes he had made, a hobby he hadn't foreseen picking up, were packed up in a pseudo-closet when not in use.

Maybe that was the most perplexing part of this... fixation? He's still not quite sure what to call it. Yet still, his many Darlings, a horribly apt name for how he treats them (and you), are absolutely spoiled to ruin with how many things he has bought and made for them.

Currently, he was giving his hands a break by watching one of your live streams. Tucked away in your hotel room, you had been simply reading comments and making conversation when a thought seemingly crosses your mind.

"Oh you all, I need to show you this," the higher lilt in your voice immediately caught his attention and as you fiddled with something out of frame, something unknown to him makes his heart speed up.

"Look! Isn't it so cute?" You smile, eyes crinkled into crescents as you hold up a doll clad in a baby blue and pink dress. With a delighted chirp, "My friend said someone wanted to give it to me but was too shy, so he passed it to her instead."

Displayed so very clearly on his screen was your Darling, in his handiwork. Moments of the past two days flashed past his head like a train and suddenly it all makes sense why Robin had been smiling behind her wings when he gave her the dress. Nonetheless, Sunday thinks he can feel the neurons in his brain shortcircuit.

"You guys are so talented, I wish I could do all this too."

"Maybe then Darling wouldn't be so exposed all the time," With a light laugh, there was a twinkle in your eyes as you glanced between the doll and the camera.

As if conditioned, his own twitching wings come up to hide what must certainly be his flushing cheeks from view upon your teasing giggle. Even if it wasn't directed at him specifically, he couldn't help but fluster at your praise.

Though he hesitates, and god knows hesitates, he brings up every ounce of willpower to type up a comment. And when he's finished, his fingers are shaking ever so slightly from the adrenaline.

You laugh again, sweet and dulcet and all too tempting for his ears, "Thank you Restdaysfordarling! Maybe next time you can give it to me yourself?"

Though he can so clearly see the screen burst to life with speculation and squeals alike, he doesn't process any of it.

No. Instead, as his wings flutter in excitement and fear alike, Sunday is forced to cover his eyes with his hands lest his scarlet face be known to the world.

Truly, what have you done to him?

[getmeoutofhell]

Slasher house x reader

“happy thanksgiving everyone!!” you say as you walk into the living area of the house. you immediately take notice in art’s new glasses. seeing that he had turkeys on them instead of the usual. so cute.

“good morning y/n. how’d you sleep?.”

“i slept good dr. lecter thank you for asking.” you then head to the kitchen to see what’s going on in there. “oh god.” was your reaction. in the kitchen there was peoples organs and other body limbs sitting around on the counter. it was a gory sight to see. thank goodness you were used to it. or else you probably would’ve threw up. “what the fuck?”

thomas turned around and looked at you, before quickly exiting the kitchen. you still wonder to this day why he always leaves each room you’re in. you talked to jennifer about it, but her response is always the same. “he likes you, duhhhh.” you never believed her. you were ready to eat, but now after seeing that you need a few minutes to recoup before taking a bite of anything. you walked back up stairs to your bedroom and sat on the bed. as you’re staring off in the distance, you hear a knock on the door. “hello? may i come in?” it was doctor hannibal. what could he possibly want right now? he never comes in your room. “yes. come in.”

“hello y/n, someone left a letter for you. it doesn’t say who’s it from.” your eyes widen into confusion. what do you mean letter? well i mean it is thanksgiving, it could be a thank you letter or something. “thank you.” he then leaves the room as you open the letter to read.

“good afternoon, y/n. happy thanksgiving! i hope your day was filled with joy. this letter is to let you know i’m thankful for you. just know i love seeing you every day. your smile brings my dead heart joy. before you came i thought i could never find love again, but here i am falling for you. i hope you enjoy dessert. it’s your favorite! ;)

sincerely, your love.”

oh wow, another nut case.

[a1ecmcdowell]

on the outskirts of the good morning america! stage stand two men far too big for the aprons being tied around their waists. one has a cigarette in his teeth, the other has a joint, and neither look at each other. it’s already too much that they have them standing right next to each other to walk out together; why the hell would they push it?

“looks great, sweetheart,” ben says to the assistant adjusting the frilly deep red fabric around his waist, straightening the spelt letters on them. most wonderful. as if he needed any more fuel to the fire that was his ego.

cole got time of the year. they're supposed to go onto that stage, stand close enough for people to read their cheesy aprons as a full sentence, and present a united front. no, america, these guys do not hate each other — look, they're having the most wonderful time of the year.

who's idea was it to turn this sentence into matching aprons, anyways? ben got a compliment and cole got a time on a calendar.

cole scoffs. ben snorts. as much as he loathes to admit it ever, ben knew cole pretty well, tended to know where his head was at. "and don't you just look darlin'."

"fuck off."

one of the vought higher ups shoots him a stern look. "get it all out of your system before you walk onto that stage," she scolds, nearly a foot shorter than the both of them but with far more fire than either, "because you will not blow this for yourselves, or for vought."

"my reputation is not bankin' on a pussy little talk show about making sugar cookies, madison," her name was madison, apparently, and ben says it with enough conviction that cole thinks they've had conversations like this before, "and puttin' me out there to try and save his when i've had to save his ass many—"

"oh, piss off," cole scoffs again, stamping his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. "i've been doing great on my own, this has nothing to do with..." he trails off when he catches madison's eye.

madison's smile hardens into something more sympathetic, like she really, truly, regrets to inform him of what's going to come out of her mouth. "smiling like a serial killer when asked to be gentler in your appearances is not 'doing great,' reaper. it's doing the bare minimum. badly."

ben takes the words as ammunition, loads them up in his throat and fires, with a twinkling grin. "you're the bare minimum and i'm the most wonderful. gonna frame this moment—" he holds his hands up together, and spreads them like he's displaying something other than his eye twitching attitude. "good morning america! — where cole found his true self in goddamn buttercream icing, of all things."

"oh my god." cole turns, grabbing a fistful of ben's frilly, sparkly apron and yanking him by it. "one of these days, someone's gonna knock you down a few pegs, and it's gonna stick. and when it happens, i'll be front row—"

a gentle hand touches cole's elbow, hesitantly. well, this is doing nothing for his rep at all. at least he fucked up the meticulously straightened words on ben's apron. the headset wearing girl who approached the both of them smiles just as forced as every single one of cole's. "you two are on in five."

★ ˚⋆

"now, you'd never be able to tell by lookin' at him, amy," ben starts, placing his hand on cole's shoulder for the thirteenth time in five minutes, "but reaper here loves sugar cookies. dontcha, reap?"

cole started counting at touch six. it's all a game to ben, and cole really, really hates his games. "yep. love 'em."

he should be giving more. but honestly, the only thing in his head is how desperately, how furiously, he wants to snap ben's wrist.

ben pats him on the shoulder again. fourteen. "tell the people how much you love 'em, don't be shy."

he was not being shy, he was being civil. "if you don't get your goddamn hands off of me, ben, i swear to god, i'm breaking every single one of your knuckles."

the soft gasps of the live audience, and the production team falling completely and utterly silent, is the sole indicator that his mic really is as sensitive as they warned him about, and he ignored.

"it's okay!" the host, amy, says quickly, her smile forced and so damn jolly for it being seven in the morning. "we'll... censor it."

that was the worst thing that anyone could have said to them.

the first batch of cookies was already done, pretend baked in the oven when it'd been sitting right in front of them under the counter the whole time, so when ben picked up the remaining ball of cookie dough and threw it at cole, everything fell apart rather quickly.

"did you just f*cking-" cole shoves his hand into the bag of flour, throwing the handful of powder at ben. "don't be a f***ing c*nt."

ben's cackling, white staining the entire front of his glittery red apron in splotches. "batter's up!" flour puffs in his face as cole throws another, dust dancing in front of his laughing expression. "get it? the g*ddamn batter's- well, it's down now, actually."

"shut the hell up."

"um, hey guys," amy says from behind them, flour all over her maroon long sleeve from being caught in the crossfire, "maybe we should... not do this."

they've never listened to anyone in their lives, but especially now, when they're stronger than anyone else in the universe.

"hey, he copped an attitude with me, sweetcheeks," ben says, snatching a cookie off of the tray in front of him, flinging it like a frisbee. "i'm just defending myself."

"well, maybe-"

"defending yourself? so you feel threatened... by flour," cole says, laughing incredulously. "oh! i know why. givin' you flashbacks, isn't it? looks a little too much like c*caine... poor baby."

ben's eyes flash. "watch your f*cking mouth."

"go on, soldier boy! tell the audience how much you love sugar cookies!" cole grabs another handful of flour, blowing it in a poof in front of ben's face. "all that white powder on top... g*ddamn, no wonder you wanted to do this show so badly!"

ben dips his hand into the red icing in front of him, slapping the wad across cole's cheek. the smack sound is so much more pronounced with the buttercream on his palm, and cole can't help it. as much as he wants to be angry, to maybe light the whole room up if it meant incinerating ben, he laughs heartily. "did you just f*cking slap me with buttercream?"

"alright," amy announces over the sound of cole's laughter, and ben's spluttering of it, too, through his defensive words. "i'll be back after this short commercial break."

behind the curtains, madison has her head in her hands. on the stage, ben's swiping his finger across cole's cheek and shoving the icing laden digit between his lips. "pretty damn good," he mumbles gruffly, a twitch of a hesitant smile on his mouth.

most wonderful time of the year indeed.

notes, oh u guys this was so so fun thank u to everyone who convinced me to write it PLSORDLSJ I <3 CHRISTMAS DRABBLES

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ultravi0lence14 @ostaramoon

[boysinmaidoutfits]

Ocean eyes

Stepbrother au

Warnings: curses

mainly inspired by the Billie Eilish song ocean eyes🫢

Summary:You and rafe were step siblings, ever since your parents met they just had to be together. Rafe hated that though, so he ultimately hated you. He was mean, and always doing something to make everyone angry at him. Except you. You liked Rafe, even if he he was so mean sometimes for no reason you still remained sweet to him, the sweetest girl in fact, and that’s what annoyed Rafe the most. You clung to him always, especially when your parents were out, or away, like they were this weekend.

It was just you and rafe in the house, he sat in the living room, “Rafeyy!” I shout as I come down the stairs, as soon as I arrive in the living room I see Rafe’s blonde hair and broad shoulders as he slumps back to couch with a gruff look on his face as he watched the tv. "Shh! For fuck's sake, will you be quiet?" He muttered under his breath "Always fuckin' noisy..." he takes a swig of his beer, deliberately avoiding looking at you "What do you want, y/n?” I sit down next to him on the couch, our arms slightly touching which was seeking me more comfort than it should. “Just wanted to spend some time with my stepbrother, what are you watching?” He rolls his eyes as you sit next to him, his arm tensing as you get too close for comfort. "Last nights game, you're gonna sit here and stare at the tv with me?" He asks sarcastically, taking another swig of his beer. “Thats what i was planning on doing yeah.. if it bothers you just say so god..” I slightly roll my eyes, i never understood his attitude and why he was so cold all the time towards me. "I don't want you near," He snaps, his temper flaring. "Happy now?" He takes another swig of his beer, trying to drown out the fact that you're still sitting there acting all nice to him. “Fine, I.. I guess I’ll just go then..” i mutter as i stand up to leave with a disappointed look on my face, as i start heading to the kitchen.

A few moments pass, it feels so quiet but Rafe’s thoughts aren’t, he gets up from the couch, his feet carrying him to the kitchen despite his brain telling him not to. He leans against the doorframe, watching you as you grab some food. He hates how you always look so sad when he snaps at you.

As i rummage through the fridge and get some ingredients, i hear a slight creak causing me to turn around, and there he was, Rafe standing right in the door. “You need something?” I ask, i cant help but still be nice to him, this is one of the traits i hated about myself, my niceness. "No," He says gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just came to see what you were doing." He watches as you turn back to the fridge, his eyes trailing over your small figure. He quickly looks away, not wanting to get caught staring. “Well.. im gonna make your favorite so you better be hungry.” I turn around smiling up at him with all the food piled up in my hands, i quickly settle it down on the counter. “Im not hungry y/n..”he snaps, even Rafe didn’t know why he snapped at you, why was he so annoyed by your presence? What was even his issue? He walks further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "You're too fucking stubborn for your own good, you know that?" I look up at him. “Oh so im the jerk for caring for you or what?” I slightly raise my voice which usually never even happens, but this time he was acting really stubborn. “And what is that even supposed to mean?! Look at how YOU’RE acting right now..” I huff. "It means you don't take no for an answer, even when it's clearly what someone wants," His eyes trace your features, noting how the harsh kitchen light brings out the freckles across your nose. "Like right now." “I really don’t wanna play one of your games tonight Rafe, plus all this shit that you’re doing doesn’t affect me get that in your head.” I turn away from him refocusing on preparing the food, “Oh, it'll affect you," He says, his voice cold. "It'll affect you more than you realize." He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. "You think you're so fucking tough, but you're not." He looks at me with his piercing cold ocean blue eyes, all i see is hatred. I realize im not tough, my eyes began to tear up and my throat goes dry i try to look away, pull away, but his grip is tight. He notices the tears welling up in your eyes and something inside him snaps. "Fuck," He curses, his grip on your chin tightening. "Don't cry, goddamn it." He pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly against him. I breathe in his rich woody cologne and the words “Im sorry..” spills out from my mouth. "Don't apologize," He murmurs, one hand moving to stroke your hair while the other keeps you firmly against his chest. His heart is racing, beating against your ear. "Stop... being so fucking sweet to me," He whispers, voice cracking slightly. "It makes everything... harder."