#if you’re ‘normal’ about either of them

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[wonderjanga]

Billy's Gears/Modes Inspired by the post where you say he is far more serious when doing 'Champion of Magic' work. What other personality shifts might Billy go through that seem drastic and terrifying to Green Lantern and the Flash? Broke Billy might do something weirder and more drastic than just stealing more. or maybe after seeing movies he becomes more dangerous by imitating physics defying cgi on the job

Private justifications that cause drastic observable "unexplainable" shifts in how Marvel behaves (I doubt Billy is aware of the shifts in behaviour but Mary might notice the patterns) idk "the many faces of marvel"

I love this idea! Lemme see what I can do with it!

There is something wrong with her brother. Mary knows it. She doesn’t know what exactly it is, but she knows it’s something. Whatever it is, it not only affects her brother, but his Marvel form. It seems she’s not the only person who noticed these personality shifts too.

Flash, GL, and Marvel: *fighting Adam in Fawcett*

Black Adam: *mentions something about Billy’s parents*

Marvel: *looks more mad than Flash or GL have ever seen in their lives*

That’s how they ended up just standing to the side as Marvel was on top of Adam, beating his face in. He looked like a wild animal. A rabid dog if you will. Wow.

GL: *from like 20 feet away summons a hand to pat Marvel’s shoulder* “Hey, man? I think you got him…?”

Marvel: “NO, I DON’T!”

Flash and GL: *flinch*

Flash: “Oh okay. Our bad.”

As an apology, he ended up taking them out for milkshakes.

Marvel: “Guys I’m so sorry you had to see that side of me.”

Flash: “It’s- it’s fine. Do you let that side of you out normally?”

Marvel: “I try not to.”

GL: “I see. I see.” *nods head*

Then, there’s the time Freddy, Mary, and Billy snuck into a movie house to watch a thief movie. Billy got inspired to rob Ebenezer.

Billy: *humming the mission impossible theme as he sneaks through one of Eben’s windows*

Mary: “This is extremely unethical. Are you sure you’re pure of heart?”

Billy: “Yup.” *barely listening*

Mary: “So where’s the money?”

Billy: “What money?”

Mary: “The money we’re stealing? I was under the impression we were gonna steal money cause we’re broke.”

Billy: “Oh. No. No no no. We’re stealing this.” *stops at a drawer and pulls out Eben’s cane looking straight up evil*

Mary: *jaw on the damn floor* “Are you serious?”

Billy: “Yup. Now cmon.” *hums the mission impossible theme again as he heads back to the window*

Later…

Billy: *back to being the chipper little guy he normally is*

Mary: *shakes her head* “How do you do that?”

Billy: “Do what?”

Mary: “Go from being normal to evil then back to normal?”

Billy: “What? How am I evil?”

Mary: “Billy, you stole an old man’s cane. That’s evil.”

Billy: “Nuh uh. It’s Ebenezer.”

Mary: *sort of understands but still thinks he’s evil* “Okay.”

After a couple more flash instances of him being evil or angry for a couple moments around friends or family. Someone finally asked the question of what was wrong with him. Specifically, Flash and GL went up to Junior and Mary to pop the question.

Flash: “Hey uh… Kids? Does Cap have some kind of instability or condition or something?”

Junior: “Uh no, what are you talking about?” *looks him up and down like he’s stupid*

Flash: *feels stupid* “Well, uh-”

Mary: “You mean the personality shifts right?”

GL: “Yes!”

Junior: “The what?”

Mary: “B- uh Marvel sometimes does this entire like 180 into a different personality because he either feels really strongly about something or he’s just really focused on something.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! What uh what’s up with that?”

Mary: “To be honest, I don’t really know. He just gets like that under certain circumstances. Don’t worry though. They’re normally rare circumstances.”

[daryltwdixon]

Merry Christmas, Daryl

Daryl x Reader Fluff

summary: On a quiet Christmas Eve in Alexandria, an unexpected moment under mistletoe brings you and Daryl closer in a way neither of you expected. slightly nerdy awkward reader

author's note: just something cute to wish you all a happy holiday 🎄✨🎁❄️☃️🎅🦌🌟

The faint hum of conversation and laughter fills the air, the low flicker of candles and strings of scavenged Christmas lights casting a warm glow across the house. Alexandria feels… different tonight. Almost like the world hasn’t ended. Like they’re all just neighbors, throwing a party to pass the time. You suppose it's what it's been like for them this whole time, but for you and your group...it was a nice reminder of what once was.

Maggie is laughing at something Glenn said, her eyes crinkling in a way you haven’t seen in months. Carl and Judith sit by the fire with Michonne, her arm draped protectively around the boy’s shoulders as she listens to his quiet chatter. Rick’s laugh carries over the rest of the noise, and for a moment, everything feels—normal.

Instead of joining in, you linger on the outskirts, nursing your drink. It’s not that you don’t feel welcome—you do, mostly. It’s just easier to watch, to soak in the warmth and pretend the ache of missing something you can’t quite name isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Your eyes wander, always searching no matter what room you're in—for him.

Daryl.

He stands near the door, half in shadow, nursing a beer with one hand while the other rests on his hip. He’s not watching anyone in particular, but his eyes scan the room like always, as if he’s looking for trouble—or maybe just a reason to leave. There’s something about the way he stands, so separate from everyone else, that pulls you in.

You’ve always told yourself it’s nothing, this feeling that tugs at you whenever he’s around. But it can't be nothing. Not with the way your heart picks up when he looks at you, the way you catch yourself stealing glances at him when you think he won’t notice. It’s the way he speaks—not much, but when he does, it’s rough and honest and somehow makes you feel safer than all the walls around Alexandria combined.

You take another sip, your fingers tightening slightly on the glass. You like him. You’ve liked him for months, but it’s not the kind of thing you can just admit—to yourself or to him. You’re not even sure he sees you that way. You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t, because it’s easier than hoping for something you might not get.

Still, your feet move before you can stop them.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you tease as you approach, your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

He glances at you, his lips twitching in something that could almost be a smile. “Ain’t exactly my scene.”

You shrug, falling beside him to lean against the wall, “Not mine either, really. But it’s nice, right? Seeing everyone like this?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting back to the room. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. S’good for ‘em.”

The way he says it—quiet, almost like it’s a secret—makes your chest ache. You wonder if he ever lets himself have anything good, or if he always watches from the sidelines, thinking it’s enough just to see other people happy.

You study him for a long moment, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his thumb taps idly against the glass bottle. But with a shift of his shoulders, he's pushing off the wall.

“You heading out already?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Think so,” he mutters. His voice is low, rough, but it doesn’t feel dismissive. If anything, it feels like an invitation—to follow, to keep talking, to… something.

Instead, you offer a soft smile. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He dips his head in a nod, stepping away from the doorframe and into the chilly night.

The walk home is quiet, the air crisp and biting against your skin. You tuck your hands into your pockets, letting your breath mist in front of you as you replay the evening in your head.

You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled. It’s not like you expected him to stay. Daryl doesn’t do parties or crowds or small talk. That’s part of who he is, and it’s part of why you like him. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should have said more.

You spot him just beyond the houses, leaning against one of the bare trees that line the edge of the path. He’s looking up, his face tilted toward the branches, and for a moment, you just watch him, the way he always seems to watch everyone else.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turns slightly, his gaze landing on you. “Could ask you the same.”

You step closer, following his gaze to the small sprig of green dangling from one of the lower branches. It takes a second to register, but when it does, your heart skips. Mistletoe.

A laugh escapes you, nervous and too loud in the quiet night. “Huh. Did you know mistletoe’s a parasite?”

His brow furrows, and you press on, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I mean, technically a semi-parasite. It attaches to trees and, you know… kind of takes what it needs. Pretty romantic, right?”

He’s watching you now, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” you blurt, and the words hang in the cold air, making your cheeks burn.

Daryl tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in that way he does when he’s trying to figure something out. You can feel your pulse quicken under his gaze, the weight of his attention making your tongue trip over itself. “It’s just… mistletoe. And, uh… you.”

As soon as the words are out, you wish you could take them back, your eyes darting anywhere but at him. The mistletoe, the ground, the shadow his boots make on the frost-bitten earth—anything to avoid the unreadable look you’re sure is on his face.

The silence stretches, thick enough to strangle you. You almost start rambling again, desperate to fill the gap, when he clears his throat.

“Mistletoe, huh?” he mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You glance up, startled, and your breath catches. He’s still watching you, but there’s something softer in his expression now, something almost shy. He shifts his weight, his thumb hooking into his belt loop, and the small, nervous movement sends a rush of affection through you.

“Well, yeah,” you say, the words spilling out faster now, your voice breathy. “I mean, technically it’s a semi-parasite. It grows on trees, kind of… leeching off them, but in a subtle way. You know, symbiotic. It’s not entirely—”

You stop abruptly when you realize he’s taken a small step closer. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you’re suddenly very aware of how quiet it is, just the faint rustle of the wind through the trees and the sound of your own breathing.

He’s not much taller than you, but he feels bigger somehow, his presence grounding you even as it sends your thoughts scattering. Your eyes flick to the mistletoe above, then back to his, and you swear he notices because his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips before snapping back up.

“Y/N…” he says softly, his voice rough and hesitant, like suddenly the name tastes different on his tongue suddenly.

Your breath catches again, and before you can second-guess yourself, you both move. It’s awkward at first, both of you leaning in too fast, your noses brushing in a way that makes you stifle a nervous laugh. But then his hand comes up, rough and warm against your jaw, steadying you, and suddenly the world narrows to just this—just him.

His lips meet yours, tentative and soft at first, but the moment stretches, deepens, like neither of you wants to pull away. You lean into him, your hands finding his jacket, clutching at the worn fabric like you need it to keep steady.

Daryl kisses you like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing but doesn’t want to stop. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, and it makes your chest ache because it feels so him. Honest. Earnest.

When you finally part, you’re both breathing harder than you should be, the air between you clouding with misted breaths. His hand lingers against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel your lips curve into a smile, the warmth blooming in your chest spilling out into your words. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

[julymusings]

I just can't get the idea of soulmate!jason where you share scars out of my head. Jason is a canvas of scars. We all find them beautiful and wouldn't judge him even if we were held at gun point.

But imagine you were getting those scars at the same time he was... it would be hard. Of course you are worried about your soulmate, but when you wake up with a permanent, very purposeful J branded onto your face, can you really tell me you wouldn't be embarrassed to go outside? Afraid of meeting your soulmate who seems to be either a criminal or in a very dangerous victim situation? Would you not be even a little angry that now your face is ruined?

(I know there is makeup, but we are ignoring that for a second)

Yes, you share these scars with your soulmate and somewhere along the line you'd find peace with them. But in the moment when you look in the mirror and find an autopsy scar... I can only imagine what you would feel.

Oh, and poor Jason. He would never be able to forgive himself. He probably wouldn't even realize he has a soulmate because if you get a scar he wouldn't notice it beside all of his.

This isn't a request. I just wanted to share my thoughts and hear yours.

Oh absolutely. I’m wondering exactly how far the scarring would go— would you have burns from the explosion? Do you wake up covered in bruises from the crowbar? A bump on the bridge between your eyes from a broken nose?

I imagine you’d be pretty resentful toward the universe if you woke up with a J branded on your face and marks from injuries that aren’t yours all over your body. And finding the autopsy scar?? Grieving someone you don’t even know? How would you recover from that? Especially so young; Jason died at 15, so you’d probably be around the same age. Imagine going into school like that. Teenagers are awful. They take one look at you and assume you’re bad news, because why else would you look so roughed up? Stay away from people like that, their parents whisper through side-eyed fear. Whoever your soulmate is, you hate them at least a little bit.

And if you follow the storyline where the pit heals all of Jason’s scars from joker and before, imagine waking up one day, almost two years later, and everything’s just gone. Would it be relieving or terrifying? But then you start to get some more, different from the old ones but it’s still as if they never left. Callouses on the pads of your fingers from squeezing a phantom trigger. Slices on the tip of your ear (Jason narrowly dodged three daggers launched by a furious Damian after he accidentally stepped on Titus’ tail). Is this some kind of joke? Is your soulmate pool confined to a singular street gang that gets into the same fights every night? (Luckily open wounds are few and far between now. Maybe it’s professional fighter who finally invested in some body armor, your friend jokes.) At least there’s no branding this time. I guess whoever they are, they’re better protecting their face this time around. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You’re not sure you want anything to do with them anymore. Who’s to say someone hurt this bad is capable of not hurting you?

But he is, he’s so capable and deserving. It breaks your heart to learn the origins of those marks you stared at in the mirror, judging and hating. If you thought having those scars was hard on you, he must have felt it tenfold. You try to act like it never bothered you, but you both know it did. The look on Jason’s face when you absentmindedly mentioned you never really made friends until college because everyone saw you as unapproachable in high school— it took a full week of loving reassurances on your part and therapy sessions on his to get back to your normal.

But sharing his scars helps, even if just a little, in understanding every part of him. You understand his loneliness and fear because you felt it too. Some nights you swear you can feel the trace of a burning knife down the front of your torso, or bits of glass piercing your palms, so you know. You know that ice packs help with the ache, that aloe vera gel soothes the itching irritation from tiny cuts, and regular Hatha Yoga provides just the right stretch to loosen aching joints. He gives you a funny look when you gift him an aloe Vera plant for his windowsill, but says nothing, agreeing to take care of it when you ask him to keep it alive. One night you notice him repeatedly rubbing his red, burning palms down the front of his jeans and lead him to sit down before taking a clean knife and slicing off one of the stems, cutting it open to spread across his cuts. That silent statement of understanding, of seeing him in a way no one else does, has him welling with tears.

So, sure, having to grow up with only signs of him, not knowing who he was aside from anonymous messages on your skin was pretty difficult. But now when you trace across the bridge of his nose over the line of jagged skin, he can do it right back to you, and both of you can’t help but feel a little grateful.

I think I went a little off topic idk man I was just saying stuff but I love the idea of soulmate!jason where you get each other’s scars and that results in you feeling the same/similar but lesser symptoms of them and therefore knowing how to deal with them for him without him having to tell you🤭if someone wants to write a fic like this I will gladly read it

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 1

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Kate: Why did you… kill them…?

Ring: “Why”...? Is it not natural? 

Ring: I’ll kill anyone as long as Dari orders me to.

His face, splattered with blood, showed not even the slightest bit of doubt about the murder he just committed.

It was at that moment when I finally realised it.

He, too— was utterly evil. 

…

One night, I stumbled upon a secret I never should've known, which led to me becoming Fairytale Keeper for a month.

A week after, Vogel, an organisation consisting of Cursed Ones similar to Crown, appeared and seemed to be hiding something. 

…

A few days after my encounter with them, I was called upon by Vogel’s chief— Darius. 

Darius: I’ve heard about it. To deepen your understanding of Crown’s members, you became their lover for a day.

Darius: We want you to do the same thing with us. The kind Miss Fairytale Keeper will surely agree to it, right? 

Unable to make the decision on my own, I quickly went to discuss it with Victor. 

…

Victor: Lovers for a day with Vogel? 

Kate: Yes. They also mentioned that they want me to show them around the city at the same time. 

Victor: I see… I don't have a problem with that arrangement. I happen to also have been thinking about giving them a tour of the city. 

Victor: What are your thoughts, Kate?

Kate: I… I can't stop thinking about what Harrison said to me that day. 

Victor: That Vogel is lying, is it?

Victor: I understand your concern, but we still can’t say for certain whether their lies are harmful to Crown. 

Victor: I doubt that they would be so reckless as to harm you in this situation. Therefore… 

Victor: The most important factor we should consider is what you want to do.

…

(What I want to do…?) 

(Victor did say he'd turn them down if I don't feel comfortable, but…)

(Since I’m going to have interactions with Vogel as a Fairytale Keeper, I’m personally curious about what kind of people the three of them are.) 

(So in order to find out… I’ll accept this request.)

(But before that…)

Kate: Excuse me, who is that tailing me? 

Ever since I left Victor’s office, I’ve had the gut feeling that someone was following behind me. 

When I voiced it out, a man emerged from the shadows.

Kate: Ring…? 

I called his name, although I still wasn't used to doing that because he only said very recently that I could address him as such without the use of salutations. 

Ring: Y-you misunderstood. I didn't mean to tail you today.

Ring: There’s something I want to ask you about… I just couldn't figure out when to approach you.

Kate: … Something you want to ask?

Ring: I wanted to ask who you’re choosing to be your lover for a day. 

Kate: Umm… and what do you intend to do with that information? 

Ring: Depending on whether you choose Nica or Dari, I’ll need to change my route and method for being their escort for security purposes. 

Ring: With the close, intimate distance of being “lovers”... who knows what tricks you’ll pull on the two of them. 

It appeared that Ring was wary of me and planned to protect them regardless of who I chose.

(Hm? But in that case…) 

Kate: What happens to the whole escort planning thing if I choose you to be my “lover”?

Ring: ME!? 

Ring: I- I don’t understand… Normally, either Nica or Dari would be chosen for this sort of thing. You don't need to consider such a possibility. 

Kate: But Darius said to choose “one member from Vogel”. 

Kate: So choosing you isn't a problem, right?

Ring: I-it’s a HUGE problem…! M-me as your l-lo-lov-lover…!? 

… Initially, I asked the question because I was genuinely curious how he intended to go about the escorting. 

But seeing Ring turning bright red and panicking sparked a mischievous impulse in me.

Kate: I’ve decided! I’m choosing you as my lover for a day.

Ring: WHAT!? You absolutely CANNOT do that! 

Darius: Really? I think that's a wonderful idea, though. 

The voice cutting into our exchange was Darius, who happened to be passing by.

Ring: D-Dari… why?

Darius: Somehow, it sounds like it’d be interesting. 

Ring: But what if she “cajoles¹” me into doing her bidding…!? 

¹ The word for “cajole” is 篭絡 (ろうらくrōraku). Here, when Ring’s says it, it was written in hiragana as “ろーらく” to express that his pronunciation of the word wasn't very accurate; possibly because his first language is german and not english. 

Darius: You know such a complex phrase as “cajole”? Good job, good job. 

Darius: But don’t worry. Miss Fairytale Keeper could never be a threat to us.

Darius: Have I ever been wrong about such things? 

Ring: … Never.

Darius: Then there's no problem at all. 

Darius: Go on, Ring. Pass auf dich auf (have a great day²). 

² For the record, I don't understand German at all. I’m only translating based on the Japanese translation provided by the game in the form of furigana.

As soon as Darius said something to him in their native language, Ring became obedient like a well-trained guard dog. 

Ring: … Alles klar (understood). 

…

The next day, I became Ring’s lover for a day and was tasked to give him a tour of the city.

Kate: I look forward to spending the day with you. 

Ring: … Oh, uh, yeah. Dari ordered me to “pretend to be Miss Fairytale Keeper’s lover for a day”. 

Ring: Going on a… d… da… date… with you… I- I’ll do it just fine. Just you watch…! 

(Ring looks extremely nervous…)

I was a little nervous myself, but seeing how tense he was actually made me feel better. 

Ring: S-so… the first destination is The Scala, right?

Kate: Yes. Since it’s a date, I decided to take you to some of my favourite places today. 

Kate: We could take a carriage there, but the weather is pleasant today. Shall we walk instead?

Ring: … Got it. Also, um… 

Ring looked like there was something he wanted to say as he stretched his right arm out in my direction. 

Kate: …?

Ring: Ah! No… nothing. T-this is just me warming up! 

He pulled his arm back and started rolling his shoulders in circles.

[heart-eyed-love]

Charms

Summary | Eddie has a small gift for you before you both leave for Christmas break

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing

Word Count | 1.2k

An | Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, this is coming out late :( but I hope everyone had a good day!

It was the last day before Christmas break, and you were more than relieved to say the least. You need a 2 week break away from this shit hole. And while you had your friends, you still needed a break from this place.

You were gonna go visit some of your family members during the break, not the plans you had originally hoped for, but in your opinion just about anything was better than this school.

You had slightly brought up to your friends in passing that you were gonna be out of town during break, but it wasn’t something you had necessarily thought they’d care to remember. And it wasn’t something you’d be offended about them forgetting either way, you knew something you tend to fade to the background of settings.

So that afternoon, as you shoved all the books and papers you’d no longer need in your backpack over this break back into your locker, you let yourself sigh in relief as you now held a significantly lighter backpack.

“Hey…” The voice sneaks up behind you, causing you to jump. And when you turn to look at the source and smirking Eddie comes into view.

“Hi?” You answer back, raised brows at the boy in front of you, “What’s up?” You ask, shutting your locker as you do, and he can’t help but take notice of the jangling of your charm bracelet he knows all too well.

“Oh you know, nothing much. Excited to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I mean, who isn’t? It’s school… so I’m pretty sure everyone is eager to get out of here… aren’t you?” You ask back, looking up at the boy in front of you. Even after hanging out with him and the hellfire, you still feel a little awkward around him.

“Oh yeah totally, I’m gonna spend my whole break probably getting high, and doing jack shit, you know, basically the whole point of the break for me, right?” He’s all smirky and it’s so distracting when he gets like this… well when he gets like this with you. You never completely got used to the times where you’re the center of his attention.

“Yeah, right… Sounds nice…” You nod softly as you throw your backpack over your shoulder.

“It will be… if you weren’t going out of town I’d invite you over…” He’s hasn’t necessarily gone shy but he’s not as confident as he normally is and it’s throwing you off a bit. And If what he says is true, and he’d really like to invite you over, you’d take that over this trip to see a few family members who don’t necessarily give too much of a shit about you. But no. Now you have to miss out on the one thing you’ve always wanted.

“That sounds a lot better than having to go hang out with a bunch of family members who don’t even know who I am…” You chuckle slightly to yourself, and he smiles sweetly back at you and you can’t help yourself from feeling distracted from the look on his face.

“Yeah? Well that’s kinda why I came over here…” He pulls his back from his shoulder and unzips it, digging through it for a second, before pulling out a poorly wrapped box. A small bow sitting on top of it. Your brows raise in question, “Uhm… I got you something… you know, for Christmas.” He smiles.

“Oh shit, really? I- I didn’t get you anything….” You feel bad immediately, you had no idea he was gonna get you a gift, if you had you wouldn’t allow yourself to go all out for him like you always truly wanted.

“Oh no! No, don’t worry about it… it’s more like just so you don’t forget about us while you’re gone…”

“Forget about you?”

“Yeah, you know… Hellfire… me.” He smirks. To be quite frank he didn’t give a shit about Hellfire in this stance, forget about them all you want just don’t go forgetting about him.

“I’m only gonna be gone for like 2 weeks, if that.” You say with a teasing laugh, that has the soft smile reappearing on his face, and you don’t notice it, but his face heats up.

“Yeah, well here anyways…” He hands the box with a shrug.

You grab the box from him with a smile, “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Yeah, go for it…”

You pull the nicely tied bow from the top, leaving only the terribly wrapped box, and you couldn’t help but feel a swarm of butterflies. It was cute. He was cute. “Sorry, apparently I’m shit at wrapping.” He chuckled lightly.

“It’s alright.” You smile up at him, before looking back down to ripping the paper off the gift and a small box is now in front of you, Eddie grabs the wrapping paper from your hands for you, shoving it into his backpack.

You open the box and a small charm is revealed to you, it’s a small black bat. It’s beautiful, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a charm. It reminds you more of Eddie than the rest of the boys and you can’t help but like it more for that fact.

Eddie inspects your face as you look at the charm. He saw it at the mall while he was trying to find something for Wayne and for some reason he just needed to get it for. But damn, for some reason this small piece of metal was more expensive than he thought it needed to be.

But whatever it was for you anyways.

“You like it?” He asks, slightly nervous at the lack of words coming from you.

You look up from the charm in the box and see that smidge of fear in his face, “What? Oh my gosh! Yes, of course!” And the smile you love so much graces his face, “I love it, thank you, Eddie.”

“I’m glad you like it… thought it would go nice with all the other ones you have…” He lets his fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist, and you blush a tad bit at the feeling of his fingers against it.

“I really do…” You watch as the hallways drain of students and you know your time with him is limited, your bus is gonna leave soon, “My bus is about to leave… but thank you again, Eddie. It means a lot…”

“Yeah, of course… Uh, I mean I could drive you home if you want? Are you leaving today?”

“Oh, uh… No, we’re leaving tomorrow. Like ass crack of dawn.” You roll your eyes.

“Damn, first day of break and you’re still having to walk up early?” He laughs, and you can’t help but smile at the sounds.

“Right? That’s what I said, she just told me to get over it so it looks like I’m waking up early… but uh, yeah… a ride would be really nice…” I nod with a shy smile.

“Sweet, follow me…” He leads you out to his van, one you’ve seen time and time before but only ever rarely been in it. Definitely never just the two of you. He opened the van door for you and everything.

You were definitely gonna come back from break with a gift of your own for him.

[the-sand-guardian]

Early Sunsets Prologue

7 months ago, the world was normal, save for one small lab in the middle of nowhere. The lab was ordinarily quiet and privately owned by the head scientist (and most likely his janitor too), but this was about to change. Pac was only beginning to pull on his coat and start his day when his janitor, the only other staff he ever had regularly around) alerted him to a van pulling into the driveway. The vehicle was almost entirely unmarked, save for a large insignia on the side that Pac knew at once: The Federation. He stepped back from the window, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He hadn’t been working on anything illegal- well, not recently- but there was no reason for the government to be on his ass this time. A car door slammed shut outside as both Pac and the janitor quickly pulled every blind down. 

“Calma, calma- It’s going to be alright Pac. You didn’t do anything wrong, what could they possibly want from you?” The janitor cooed softly to the other as he had begun to pace. 

Pac dug a hand into his hair. There were voices outside, but they weren’t distinct enough for him to actually make out words. “Fitchi- They don’t come here for no reason! They might kill me! Or us! Or you!” 

A hand gently clasped ahold of Pac’s, and another soon took his other. “I will protect you if it is the last thing I do, Pac,” Fit gently squeezed his hands. Pac hoped it never ever came to that. A knock at the door finally pulled them from each other’s eyes. 

Pac begrudgingly let go of his janitor’s (lover’s) hands and crossed the room to get the door. A masked employee greeted Pac blankly before stepping past him into the lab. Another employee followed, and Pac quickly noted that both had large guns within his view. Finally, a third fed followed behind them. This one was not visibly armed, but the chill dancing down Pac’s spine told him he didn’t need to be. This worker was still clad in the signature ghostly white of the Federation, but they wore their long white hair in a crafted bun atop their head. Their uniform was different, too. Instead of the smooth white masks of the grunts, this worker had an unsettling smile printed onto their mask and a pair of bear (he assumed) ears attached to the top. If Pac weren’t so on edge, he might have been able to admire the clear effort that had gone into their appearance. No more employees came in, but he doubted the Federation would waste a full van on three people.

“Can I help you?” Pac asked, straightening up his posture a little before slumping just slightly again. Fit’s firm hand found its way back into Pac’s. 

“Actually… you can.” The third employee spoke slowly and carefully, crossing to the centre of the room now. The other two flanked either side of them like the bodyguards they may well have been. “You see, the Federation has been keeping a close eye on this here…laboratory… for quite some time now and we think that, perhaps, you might be of some use to us.” 

Pac cocked his head to the side a little before looking over at Fit, who was equally as confused. It wasn’t like Chume was one of those major labs right now. They weren’t pumping out medicine, or drugs, or even anything really. Shouldn’t the Federation have their own labs? Fit squeezed his hand slightly. Pac returned it. 

“Perhaps you’re not understanding me-” The Bear, as Pac was now mentally calling them, effortlessly switched into Portuguese despite never having an accent in English. “Pac, você tem habilidades que a Federação pode usar. Nós precisamos de você.” (‘You have skills the Federation can use. We need you.’)

Pac blinked a second before just staring. “O que- O que vocês precisam?” His gaze flicked over to Fit quickly, which did actually help him calm a little. He could practically hear his voice even though he wasn’t speaking, his eyes said it all. Calma, Pac, calma. Pac steadied the slight shake in his hands– the only real tell that he was nervous at all– and let out a quiet but heavy breath. 

“Seu laboratório é muito útil, e você é muito inteligente, mas… você sabe disso.” Pac could practically hear the smirk lurking in their voice. (“Your laboratory is very useful, and you’re very intelligent, but… you know that.”)

“E? E o que você precisa?” He took a small step towards them and started to study their mask now that he was no longer trembling too much to see straight. Now he could see that this mask was even further different from those of the usual feds. This mask had actual eye holes behind a thin mesh that made up the dull eyes of the smile printed onto it. Something about this caused the hair on his neck to stand on end. He hadn’t even noticed previously that the plain white masks didn’t have eye holes, but now that he had, that shiny plastic (assumedly) would be burned into his brain. 

“Eu quero que você crie um vírus.” (I want you to create a virus.)

<><><><><><><><><><>

Authors notes: Hello!! If you enjoyed this please please reblog and be ready to catch the rest of the fic on Ao3 tomorrow! The rest of this fic is going to be Spiderbit with some cutaways to Fit and Pac bc I had so much fun writing them here! Also, feel free to send me asks about the AU as it comes out!!

[suzukiblu]

WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday! This week’s winning theme is "interdimensional shenanigans".

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple requests are fine, but please send them in separate asks. Just a little easier for me to fill them that way, and also easier for people to read through the WIP tags smoothly later.

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon (( chrono || non-chrono ))

den mom Black Zero (( chrono || non-chrono ))

interdimensional kidnapping via Robin (( chrono || non-chrono ))

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees (( chrono || non-chrono ))

interdimensional whoring for Timkon (( chrono || non-chrono ))

snippet from “the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon”:

“. . . it’s, uh–it’s fine,” Kon says, staring up at him with that odd expression for a moment again before quickly looking back towards the hall ahead. Clark’s pretty sure that means the kid doesn’t want to admit it if it’s not, one way or the other, but can’t exactly blame him for it. He’s not the same Clark Kent as Kon’s, after all, and he doesn’t even know how long Kon’s been alive, much less who made him or how they treated him after they did. 

If they were trying to make a full-grown Superman, though . . . 

That definitely wasn’t something his other self was involved in, Clark thinks. And almost definitely wasn’t anything benevolent, either. So the fact that Kon turned out as the kind of person to throw himself in-between innocent people and a problem when he’s actively in trouble himself is . . . more than admirable, frankly. Clark doesn’t even know exactly what he’d call it if he were trying to sound normal about it, but in his head and in his heart, it makes him feel–proud. 

He had absolutely nothing to do with this kid–that’s all on his other version and Kon himself and anyone else the kid knows in their own reality–but he feels it anyway. It’s just a borrowed emotion, something that belongs to some other version of himself, but . . . 

Well. It doesn’t hurt to feel it for just a moment or two, he thinks.

[bridgyrose]

Neo couldnt help but watch as the new girl to Lady Brownings was being bullied by a few of the older girls. It was a normal hazing process, but something about the girl kept her intrigued. Maybe it was her silver eyes or how young the girl was compared to everyone else. Either way, she wasnt going to watch the girl be bullied anymore.

She got up and made her way over to the girls and pushed them away from the new girl. She put herself in front of the girl and glared at the others. 

“And what are you going to do about it, Trivia?” one of the girls asked. 

Neo raised a fist, then lowered it with a smirk. The smirk changed to a smile as she stuck out her tongue as she made a snipping motion with her fingers as she stared at the girls. 

The lead girl scoffed and walked away. “Freak.” 

Neo stopped and lowered her fingers, turning to the girl that she had just saved. It was almost like looking at a mirror and seeing her younger self. Scared, weak, out of place… needing someone to step in and help. 

She knelt down and pulled out her scroll, typing quickly before showing the girl her question. “Are you okay?” 

The girl flinched before looking at the scroll and gave a nervous nod. “I-I am. Thank… thank you for helping me.” 

Neo nodded, erased her message, and typed a new one. “It gets easier.” 

“I’m not sure it ever does. Its not the first time someone bullied me because of my eyes. They’re strange enough for the color.” 

A frown crossed Neo’s lips, familiar with what the girl had been going through. She still wore the contact to give her pink eye a brown color because of her parents, but hearing that another person was going through the same torment… this wasnt something she could allow slide. Instead, she’d be the person this girl… no, her younger self, needed. A mentor. A friend.

She offered a hand to the girl and signed to the girl. “What is your name?” 

“Ruby,” Ruby answered as she took Neo’s hand. “Ruby Rose.” 

Neo flashed a smile at Ruby, her fingers moving slower “I would like to be your friend.” 

Ruby smiled. “I’d like that.” 

Neo helped Ruby up and started to walk her to the dorm. 

The weeks went by and Neo and Ruby became practically inseparable. Neo helped Ruby study, train, get used to the etiquette classes… everything that she needed to succeed. A smile crossed her lips as she watched her pick up on her lessons quickly, and even more proud as she found Ruby quickly becoming top of her class. 

She lowered her weapon with a smile as she panted, glancing at her aura. Ruby had done better, bringing her aura down into the yellow and starting to see through her tricks. She started to sign, her fingers relaxed. “You’re improving.” 

“It doesnt feel like I am,” Ruby said as she picked herself up. “I still didnt win and you’re still wiping the floor with me.”

“I’ve had some of the best tutors to train me when I was younger, but you’ll get there.” 

“Then maybe I’ll get you next time.”

Next time. Neo paused and looked at her scroll, her fingers shaking as she held it. When would next time be? She was only here until she could find the time to leave and to help Roman. And then there was Lady Beat and that room she seemed to disappear to… so many questions that needed answers. 

Ruby put a hand on Neo’s shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Neo nodded and gave her a smile. “I’m not sure when next time will be. I will be going out tonight-” 

“Then let me come with you.” 

Neo paused. “Come with me?” 

“Yes, I can come with you. And then we can train when we have time-” 

“You’ll get in trouble if you follow me. And besides, what I’m going to do tonight will be dangerous.” 

“And I dont want to be left alone again!” 

Neo lowered her hands for a moment as she took a good look at Ruby. There was a sadness in her eyes that she hadnt noticed until now, not too unfamiliar to what she’d seen in her own eyes before meeting Roman. She signed once more, trying to understand. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Ruby looked away as if she wanted to hide the pain she felt, her body trembled as she held her arm to her chest. “Dad… wasnt given a choice. Someone from the village we lived in called to check in on my sister and I while he was at work. It wasnt something he did often, but this time was different because of grimm sightings nearby. Yang had been attending Signal and was trained to start fighting grimm, but that didnt matter. In the end, it was either we were to be  sent to boarding school or taken away from him. So, he chose to send us here. Until Yang fought back. She was taken away and I… I was sent here. To keep me out of trouble.” 

Neo nodded as she listened to the story, her own heart felt like it was starting to break. While it wasnt the same reason she was sent to Lady Brownings, it certainly hurt to hear what Ruby had gone through. She walked over to Ruby and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to comfort her, a smile crossing her lips. 

Ruby wiped a few tears away from her eyes. “Please, let me come with you.” 

“We leave tonight. But first, I have something I need to check,”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had happened so quickly, and yet, she had never felt so… satisfied. A year had passed since her family’s manor had burned down along with her parents inside of it, Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy had been shut down, and now she was free to be with Ruby and Roman. And yet, even in that satisfaction, she couldnt help but feel like something was missing.

“Roman told me I’d be able to find you here,” Ruby said as she sat down on the rooftop next to Neo. “We were supposed to train tonight.” 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Neo signed as she kept her eyes towards the city. “I needed to think.” 

“Think about what?” 

“What I want to do.” 

“I thought you already knew what you wanted to do. Its why we’re still with Roman, isnt it?”

Neo shrugged and looked over at Ruby. She had dragged her into a life of crime, and yet, Ruby didnt seem to look disappointed in it as long as it meant trying to find her sister. But as she stared into the eyes of her friend, of the girl she was starting to love, the doubts had started to fade. 

Ruby smiled and got up. “I know what’ll make you happy. There’s a dust shop not too far away that we can go rob with Roman’s help.” 

“Are you sure?” Neo signed slowly.

“Of course. And I can get some stealth practice like you keep asking me to.” 

Neo smiled and nodded. “Sure.” 

“Great! I’ll go get him!” 

Neo couldnt help but watch as Ruby jumped down the building, red-lined black cloak fluttering in the wind before she turned into a flurry of petals. Her heart fluttered and she stood up to look over Vale once more. There was nothing more that she wanted in this world than to be with Roman and Ruby, no matter what it was that they wanted. She shattered piece by piece with her own semblance, ready to meet her partners on the street. 

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #6844:

I wish that Antis would learn from other Antis that were either implied to be creeps, were confirmed to be creeps, hypocrites, or malicious bullies who sent people death threats, tell people to kill themselves or harass them over fictional characters that are either pixels on a screen or words on a screen, because, I hate to break it to you guys, but when you guys do things like harass or bully people over fiction, you’re not the good guys and no normal person would do things like that, because fiction is very, very, very different from reality.

(I’m also not going to name names here, so I ask people to not say, “this is about x, isn’t it?,” or “just say x, we’ll understand,” comments, because this applies to all fandoms. Not just one or two specific ones.)

[sunnywritesfics]

The One Who Knows Me 𖤓 Toji Fushiguro

A fic inspired by this post by @ultraimaginez and written with her permission! This is the part one of what I am anticipating will be a three part series. Summary: You are nearly thirteen. The dog days of summer feel like they will last forever and there's no one you'd rather spend it with than you're best friend, Toji. WC: 1.6k

The crunch of gravel beneath bike tires and the sounds of cicadas humming in the late July heat provide the soundtrack to the greatest heist you and Toji have managed to pull off in your nearly thirteen years of friendship.

The baskets on your bikes are filled with as many popsicles as the two of you could physically carry. It is clear from the rapid melting of the icy candies that neither of you had considered the logistics of transporting frozen goods after your escape from the Zennin compound. It hardly matters now. The sweetest part about them is the act of rebellion they represent.

Toji lets out a feral laugh that sounds almost as wild as he feels as the two of you race down a hill without ever hitting the brakes—speeding faster and faster away from the adults who expect you to be using this time to train diligently with one of the clan elders. Trees fly by in a blur and the landscape becomes nothing more than a green backdrop. The only thing that feels real in the entire world is the two of you.

Eventually, you reach the familiar lake. Your parents have been bringing the two of you here for as long as either of you can remember. Before middle school most of your summer days were spent along this shoreline—grubby hands made sticky with juicy watermelon, the smell of sunscreen hanging heavy in the humid air. Only this time there are no grown ups to yell at you.

Toji beats you to the water’s edge by the fraction of a second, loose gravel flying into a cloud of dust as he skids to a stop. It was hardly a landslide victory, but it’s enough to have him already flashing you a smug smile and narrowing his green eyes as he looks down his nose at you. “Told you I’d win. I’ve always been the fastest.”

A second cloud of dirt forms as you skid to stop beside him and allow your own bike to fall to the ground. You push him hard as you dismount and frown. “That wasn’t a fair race, asshole. You got a head start.”

He shoves you back, grinning wickedly as you stumble a little, nearly falling over from the force of it. “Sounds like an excuse to me.” He taunts in a sing-song voice. Without another word you pounce on him and the two of you begin to wrestle along the lake’s shore.

Toji hit a growth spurt a few months ago and his extra size has become a huge advantage. You’ve been sparring together since you were both old enough to throw a punch—and until recently the two of you had been evenly matched. But puberty has hit your friend like a truck.

Everything about him is starting to change and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by you (or anyone else at school, for that matter). His voice is cracking, which you tease him about endlessly, but it’s clearly starting to get deeper and deeper. His once gangly limbs are starting to add muscle definition. And he’s already grown nearly four inches since spring of this year. Sometimes when you think about all the ways Toji is growing up it makes the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart race a little faster than normal.

You try not to think about it too much…

But it’s clear that today it’s heavy on your mind. You’re distracted when Toji pile drives you into the ground with his shoulder in your stomach and arms wrapped around your knees. You wheeze as your back hits the earth hard, and the wind is knocked from your lungs. You scramble to sit up, fingernails clawing into the dirt and legs thrashing. But Toji’s got you pinned. He leers down at you from above and the sun forms a halo around his long black bangs. For a moment your breath catches in your throat.

“I win. Again.”

Without thinking, cursed energy flows naturally to you and enhances your strength. You reach up and push hard on his shoulders, knocking Toji off you with more force than you’ve ever used before. You are met with the sound of a large splash and the feeling of water washing over you before you even realize what has happened.

You rub the water out of your eyes in time to see a mop of black hair surfacing from the middle of the tiny lake and a set of angry emerald eyes glaring at you. For a beat the two of you are quiet—only the deafening buzz of the insects in the trees fill the space between you. Suddenly the silence is broken by your loud cackling. Laughter racks your body so hard you feel your abs cramp as you watch Toji silently sulk out of the water back towards you.

“You sh-should hahaha—” you wipe at the tears forming in your eyes. “You should have s-seen your f-face! Hahaha!” Hysteria has you in its grips and you can’t even keep your eyes open any more. The image of Toji glowering at you from the lake is a permanent fixture behind your eyelids as you shake with mirth.

Without warning you feel your body being lifted in the air, which causes you to laugh even harder despite the sudden instinct to escape kicking in. “Put me down, asshole!” You shriek with barely contained joy as Toji hoists you up and drags your flailing body towards the water. “No no no no no!” You fight him in between fits of giggles, but Toji’s jaw is set in a line of determination. His scowl doesn’t budge until he has determined he’s deep enough, then he flashes you an evil grin before dropping you.

The freezing cold water feels like a slap to the face after an afternoon spent nearly sweating to death in the dojo on the Zennin property. Your limbs thrash wildly as you fight to the surface, spluttering as soon as you get your head out of the water. Toji’s now laughing just as hard as you were, clearly feeling victorious.

You consider dragging him back under to continue rough housing in the water, but after a day’s worth of training and your earlier wrestling match you are exhausted. You extend your hand to Toji. “Truce?”

He studies your outstretched palm for a long moment, seeming to weigh his options, before grabbing your hand and smirking. “For now.”

Toji yanks you to your feet and the two of you make your way back to the shore. Once you’re on land you begin opening the packages of the now melted popsicles—sucking down the cold sugary juices that stain your faces with a rainbow of colors. The silence between the two of you is comfortable like it always has been. Toji is your best friend. You don’t need words to understand one another and he’s never been particularly chatty anyway. So you’re somewhat shocked when Toji is the one who speaks into the quietness of the afternoon.

“The geezers are pissed.” You glance up at his preferred term for the Zennin elders. You’ve always believed Toji has more virtues than anyone gives him credit for, but respect has never been among them. “They’re finally starting to realize I’m never going to have cursed energy.” Toji doesn’t meet your eyes as he grabs for another plastic bag filled with bright red liquid that might be cherry or raspberry flavored and rips it open with his teeth.

You frown, wiping off your own multicolored mouth. “You don’t know that, Toji. Lots of people don’t start using cursed energy until—” Toji shoots you an icy look that stops you abruptly.

“I’m not delusional. If I had any I would know by now.” He doesn’t look sad or angry— but his gaze has the weight of certainty behind it. You swallow around all the words that come immediately to mind. I’m sorry… That’s awful…What are you going to do? Instead you nod wordlessly and wait for him to continue.

“They want me to do a bunch of pointless training even though we all know it’s a waste of time.” He scoffs, picking up a stone near his hand and chucking it at the water—watching it splash and then sink below the surface.

You choose your next words carefully. “Well, even if you don’t have cursed energy, you’re still the strongest person I know.” You feel the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks flush red as Toji levels you with an unreadable look at your admission. “What if you just got really good at your martial arts? You don’t need a cursed technique to kick ass.”

Toji studies you thoughtfully before his expression melts into a familiar smirk. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can still kick your ass either way.”

He grins when you shove him hard and huff. “I launched your ass into the lake less than an hour ago, moron.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he looks from you to the bikes scattered on the ground. “Oh yeah? I’m still faster. Race you back to the compound!” Before you can even comprehend what Toji has said, he’s on his feet and running for his bike.

“No fair! You’re such a dick!” You shout angrily, scrambling to your own feet as you watch Toji kick off the ground and start pedaling as fast as he can. His laughter floats through the muggy air like a summer breeze as you race after him.

You have never been more sure that this is how you will spend all your summers for the rest of your life.

Authors Note: Jeez. I sure hope no one does anything to break these kids hearts... that would be fucked up 👀

[brox-not-a-badger]

Cut your teeth on me

A little NSFW reader x Perturabo for you, think of it as a holiday gift from your favorite, frankly stupid author

Tw; breeding kink, implied pregnancy, bruises, fingering, Perturabo being a petulant and horny whore of a man

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Perturabo is not the most skilled in the art of flirting or lovemaking. Not to mention the fact that he’s barely in touch with his emotions, so when a pretty little serf catches his eye, he figures it’s not his fault, and evidently blames you for his odd attractions.

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You served the primarch of the IVth legion, Perturabo. By far, the most petulant and irritable primarch, and he was looming over you, an unfortunate serf who ended up on the wrong end of a brief conflict. At your feet stood the shattered remains of a vase, evidence of your brief scare due to the run-in with the primarch. You were attending to your usual duties, cleaning his study and not bothering him as per usual. Normally, he’d sit in the corner, working on a model or some plans or another.

Normally, his business was not yours, but right now he was making his business yours. “Throne damnit, woman- pick this mess up. I’ll see to it you tend to something-… less fragile. You’re dismissed.” He snarled. You found your hands trembling as you bent down to pick up the remains of the now shattered vase, quickly shuffling off to discard of the broken parts. For a brief moment, you swear you could hear mumbling coming from the mountain of a man, however, you quickly dismiss it, seeing that Perturabo was already in a bad mood.

Perturabo was hardly furious about the vase. It was the way you looked at him so gently yet so frightfully. How you moved with so much grace, despite your evident clumsiness in dropping the vase. It was infuriating how tempting you were to the eyes, so much so he hated just seeing you.

You made him feel things he thought shouldn’t have been possible. And now that your presence was no longer in the room, it felt strangely empty. Perturabo hated the emptiness of the room more than he hated your presence. Perhaps it wasn’t even hate at all, either. That was a possibility. A foolish one, but a possibility nonetheless.

Before you could leave down the hall upon disposing what was left of that vase, you heard the door slowly creak open. Perturabo poked his head out, looking around before spotting you very abruptly. “Come back, please. I may have dismissed you too quickly, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” That was quick considering how suddenly he’d already dismissed you.

For a split second, you could see a light pink coloring in his cheeks, across his stern features. Was that blush? You quickly reentered the room as Perturabo was returning to his seat. “Do you need something, my lord?” You asked. For a moment he just stared at you, almost completely distracted by you, before quickly snapping out of it. He scolded himself internally as his features quickly grew stern and uncaring once more. He nodded.

“Yes, yes I need you to finish… reordering the books, on that shelf. I prefer they stay in alphabetical order, unless it’s a triology, or a set of chronicles. Then I expect you to order them accordingly.” He said sharply, staring at you with a concerning glare. Perturabo was renowned for snapping on a whim, so you took no time to begin preforming the task he ordered of you. You stood up on the ladder, starting by taking each of the heavy books off, starting with A’s, B’s, and so on and so forth.

Perturabo found his gaze wandering from his models over to where you stood on the ladder. He only intended for a quick glance, but found himself staring for much longer. His eyes drifted over your robes, how they hugged your curves in all of the right places, how you delicately moved. It was all enticing, and tempting. Tempting enough that Perturabo found himself feeling heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The moment he’d caught himself staring, he’d abruptly turned away, back to what he was doing, muttering something under his breath. “Damn temptress.” He snarled scornfully.

You paused for a moment, eyes wide as you caught what he’d said. Your mind was screaming at you to stick to what you were doing, but unfortunately, your heart was louder than your head that day. Pathos overcame ethos, as you slowly turned to look at him, surprised at what he’d called you. A temptress? What on Terra did that insinuate? “Sir. What-… what do you mean by ‘temptress’?” You looked so innocent in your confusion at his description of you.

The primarch quickly snapped his attention to you, briefly stumbling over his words. In a moment of sudden panic, he blurted the first words that came to mind. “I’m calling you a whore.” There was a feral growl to his voice that only a man like him could convey. He tried to play it off, even as you stood there, staring and looking stunned at the primarch.

“M- my lord I don’t mean to pry but where did that come from?!” You sounded somewhat distressed and confused, which caused the Lord of Iron to give a blank stare, as though it had just now occurred to him the magnitude of what he just called you, very quickly he switched to an accusatory tone. Though, of course, instead of apologizing, Perturabo took the stubborn route and doubled down on his harsh words.

“I called you a whore. A harlot. Or did you mishear me? Get over here.” He snarled, watching as you did as commanded of you. You scrambled off your ladder, wandering over to the towering astartes with a startled look in your eyes. Perturabo hated your timid mannerisms, but he could never hate you directly. It was strange to him.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” Were the first words out of your mouth. Of course, you didn’t. He knew you didn’t, but to him those feelings were conflicting, leaving you confused and a little afraid due to his unpredictable behavior with his legion. Approaching him the way you had been was like approaching a wild animal, you never knew what he would say or do next, whether it was him making a passing comment, an annoyed gesture or something more direct, he always kept you guessing. However it never truly felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, he simply felt unpredictable. He was never outright violent, nor has he ever made any violent threats towards you.

The way he kept staring at you made you a little concerned. He just stared, before speaking slowly, in a tone that was a little hard to recognize. “You-… damned whore. What is it with you? You’re just a serf. Why is it so hard to talk to you specifically?” He growled, though it sounded more like a question than scornful words. You were at a loss for words, the fact that he was towering above you made the situation even worse than originally thought possible. There was a low growl in his voice, the way he stared at you like a piece of meat could almost be described as alluring if it wasn’t a little intimidating.

You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, which was made all the worse by the fact that he could clearly tell what was going on, seeing how fast his expression changed from a hardened look of disdain to very sudden surprise. “S- sir, I mean no disrespect, however that seems like an issue that’s your fault?” You tried to pipe up, only being met with a stare.

Perturabo found he was realizing a lot of things about himself at once as his eyes traced over your form as you spoke. He huffed and licked his lips, trying to mask something you couldn’t quite figure out. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, serf.” He borderline snarled in a rather animalistic display. He reached out to you, grabbing you by the face, his rough fingers digging into your cheek. It was a easy to reach you, seeing you stood to the side of his desk, right beside him so you were within reach.

He examined you for a long while, eyes locked on your delicate frame. Perturabo looked, for the most part, largely unimpressed, were it not for the light pink blush that had subtly spread across his face. After what felt like an eternity, you were let go. “Come here. In front of the desk.” He commanded of you harshly. Of course, you obliged to his commands.

You stood before him, specifically in the space between him and the desk, looking intimidated by the fact that he was looming over you. “Up, on the desk. I feel as though there is a lesson to be taught here that words cannot convey properly.” He growled, watching you scoot up on the desk, sheepishly moving things around, you looked behind you momentarily to straighten yourself out, only to be met with the primarch baring down on you, his palms on the sides of the desk.

Emotions were running very hot, so much so you could physically feel the heat coming off of Perturabo’s massive body. By the holy throne on Terra, you drove him to the brink of insanity. He’d always assumed the flowery language that Fulgrim had used to describe his vices with women back on Chemos was just talk, but now that he had such a woman in his office, propped up on his desk like a decorative piece, he understood just what Fulgrim meant.

“My lord, are you-… asking something of me?” You questioned. It was a bold thing to ask him, especially seeing how stiff and hesitant, yet extremely desperate and starved he seemed. Without words he answered your question when he slid whatever project he was working on aside and grabbed you, not by the wrists but by the hand and pinned you down to the desk. His grip was strong on you, not enough to hurt or bruise but it was enough to keep you in place so you didn’t get away.

__________________NSFW BELOW HERE ________________________

A yelp escaped your lips, it was a noise that made heat begin to pool in Perturabo’s belly. By the holy throne, everything about you made him want to just devour you more. “Ask less questions. They annoy me.” He said simply, his eyes locked on you like a wolf to a hare. You swallowed your initial tough realization, allowing your thighs to slide open in the heat of the moment.

You could see what appeared to be the faint shape of his hardened cock beneath his robes, a sight that had made your face flush even worse than it had been before. He must have taken notice of this, seeing how he’d distracted you next.

Perturabo growled like an animal as he leaned over you. Taking two fingers and abruptly and unceremoniously shoving them into your mouth. It was slightly hard to take at first, seeing just how large his fingers were, but gradually you got used to the feeling, your tongue working around his hand and covering them in saliva. “You know just what I’m going to do with these, don’t you?” A sly grin played on his lips as he reached up to push your own clothing up.

He’d then take his fingers from your mouth, making you feel a bit out of breath. He momentarily looked down at his now saliva-soaked hand, fingers spreading apart before he looked back at you. This entire encounter was leaving you at a loss for words, even more so when he praised you for how well you were doing so far. “Good, that’s a good little serf. I bet you were just begging for that to be over with, hm?” He sounded like he was taunting you, which wasn’t a tone you were used to, especially not from him.

Perturabo then slid his still-slick hand under your robes, eliciting a soft whine from your lips that drove him mad. You whimpered as he gently drove his fingers into your hot cunt. The sounds you made as you wriggled on his fingers made him want you all the more, but he persisted in his patience. Perturabo spread you open with his slicked fingers, wet sounds coming from the space between your pretty thighs.

He slid deeper in to you, until he was at least up to his knuckles. He’d begun to make swirling motions, using the pads of his hand to massage the clit. His breathing got more ragged as he gently gripped your side, hoisting himself over you. “Look at you, how pathetic. I seem to have been right to call you a harlot.” Perturabo was rather hypocritical as he spoke, seeing it was him lusting after you so intensely, however, you didn’t seem to mind his harsh words.

Perturabo wasn’t as experienced as Fulgrim or Horus when it came to pleasing women, but he was still decent, and at least knew what he was doing. His motions were slow and delicate, knowing he could probably force you down and take you however he’d liked, but he chose not to. Despite his initial hunger and annoyance at being so easily tempted, he was still soft on you. Parts of him could have even said he was in love with you, but that was preposterous. This was just some simple ‘discipline’, at least, he assumed it was.

When Perturabo finally pulled his slick fingers out, you’d felt empty, and a little disappointed, finding yourself yearning for a little bit more of that sweet, sweet stimulation. What was even worse was that you were getting surprisingly close to climax off of just his work with his hands alone. Just as you assumed Perturabo was about to let you leave, he didn’t.

As you went to sit up on his desk to get up and leave, he set you right back down. He licked his middle and index fingers, lapping your juices off of his hand, then grabbed you by your hips and lining you up with his. “Mh~ you’re not going anywhere just yet. I’m not done with you.” Perturabo grunted. He was hard as a rock, and you could feel it between your thighs, through the silky fabric of his traditional robes.

Perturabo was absolutely throbbing. The way you laid there and stared at him with those eyes he hated seeing, the way you sprawled out, willingly giving yourself to him in every sense, he hated it. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. He hated everything about you because you were alluring and tempting, like a siren that leads sailors astray. He needed you.

And, evidently, he was going to have you. Perturabo pulled away slightly, brushing his robes out of the way as he had done yours. Perturabo reached up and gripped the fabric in his teeth to keep it out of his way, revealing his somewhat soft abs and just under his chest. It was quite a view to have, seeing just how strong he was under there.

Then there was his cock. Perturabo was huge in every aspect. Every, aspect. Parts of you were worried he wouldn’t fit, and you were almost correct. It explained why he had to be so thorough with his foreplay. He squeezed his cock into you just narrowly, feeling you just writhe made his sensitive body react. You could see the faint outline and bulge from his member in your lower belly. It was a feeling that sent you spiraling.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began. At first, moving his hips deliberate and slow as to not injure you, which was a shockingly considerate move on his part, considering how much he was going to wreck you. Slowly, he sped up until he was at a steady rhythm. His hips pumped, leaving you a moaning, whining mess. The sounds coming from you were like a personal orchestra to Perturabo. He clenched the cloth of his robes in his teeth harder and started going down on you like there was no tomorrow.

Part of him wanted to keep going until he got you pregnant, but he tried to stifle that part of him deep down. Perturabo then bent over the desk, letting his own robes fall from his teeth as he wrapped his arms around you, grunting and growling like a wild animal as he kept thrusting in and out of you. You felt good, absolutely divine, even. The way your walls hugged his cock, how your moans sounded in his ear. Even the way your nails dug into his back made him want to fuck you like it was your wedding night.

Perturabo’s hips did all his talking for him, while your cries of pleasure certainly fueled him to keep going. He was so wrapped up in fucking you that he drowned out the sounds of the desk creaking beneath you. He placed his full weight down on the desk, but being careful not to apply too much pressure to your body. Perturabo reached one hand out to grab the edge of the desk, keeping it in place even as it creaked.

His iron grip had even caused the hardwood of the desk to crack. It wasn’t long before he was laying into you with considerable force. You, on the receiving end, were struggling. It was beginning to hurt your lower back, and your insides, seeing just how big and robust he was in every way possible. It was too much for you to handle, which very quickly brought you to climaxing before him.

Pure ecstasy riddled through your entire body as you stiffened with a loud moan. You were feeling very swiftly overstimulated due to his onslaught. Though, luckily for you, not long after you’d climaxed, so did he. Perturabo gripped your hips with bruising strength, staying inside you as he rode his pleasure filled climax to its peak.

You could feel the hot, sticky liquid pouring into you in large amount. His seed was hot, but not hot enough to burn. Perturabo remained with his body on top of yours, having to lift you off the desk and sit back in his chair. The two of you just sat there for a moment, breathing heavily and listening to one another’s heartbeats thundering. “Th- throne on Terra, I need to make you my wife as soon as possible.”

He leaned back. You were far too spent to comment, so you decided to simply nod and groan. You looked down at your lower stomach, wondering if there would be consequences to your master’s actions, however, the chances of that were unlikely. But not zero. “Sir-.. P- Perturabo, we should probably clean up, yes?” You asked, panting between breathes.

Perturabo had nodded in agreement. “Yes, cleaning up is a good idea… lets-… lets just stay here, for a little while.” He said to you, his tone much gentler compared to when you started off. Perhaps, he could even go for a round two in the shower. He’d decide that later though. For now, the pair of you needed to rest.

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Sorry I haven’t posted in a while!!! I got hit by a car, BUT I AM OKAY! There were some superficial wounds but I’ll live. A broken wrist + some snapped ribs never killed anyone (at least I don’t think). I hope I portrayed the silly little guy correctly, Perty is kind of hard to nail down in writing! I also may have gotten a little too wrapped up writing the smut portion

[stoat-party]

Awkward Ways the Companions Show Affection (Part I)

Danse is very honest how he feels about people. Which is all well and good, except that his compliments make you feel like you’ve been transported to an award ceremony in your pajamas. He’ll corner MacCready at nine in the morning telling him he “has the soul of a guardian” or somesuch, then leave as if nothing happened.

~

If Codsworth gets the sense you’re too sick or sad to take care of yourself, the doting goes completely out of control. He can’t fix you, but he can make sure your depression hovel is spotless. He’s tried to physically bathe the Sole Survivor before. Hope you like soup.

~

Dogmeat likes to steal people’s things and cuddle with them. If you haven’t been home in awhile, he’ll either climb in your bed or run off with something that smells like you. When Nick was in Far Harbor, they caught him licking a ham radio next to an ashtray.

~

Preston is constantly checking on people. This isn’t awkward in itself; it’s nice to have someone worry about you. But Preston gets a little too concerned. Like, find-you-three-hours-after-a-normal-conversation-to-ask-if-he-upset-you concerned. If he hears Mama Murphy cough from three buildings away, he’s charging in ready to start CPR.

~

Cait’s reputation for having a bad attitude is exaggerated, especially now that she’s kicked the psycho habit. But she has a very special flavor of mean reserved for the people she likes. Just the most heartfelt, loving twinkle in her eyes as she pokes at all your biggest insecurities. She fully intends it to be funny and would spiral into self-loathing if you took it the wrong way.

Part 2 | Part 3

[httpscomexe]

Avengers Crumbus

Summary: Everyone is excited for Christmas except Bucky.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Incredibly corny.

Word Count: 1468 (Find all chapters here)

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

It was Christmas Day in the Avenger tower.

Tony was getting drinks ready, with Pepper helping him ready enough food for everyone there. Everyone else was decorating cookies in the lounge room, a good majority of them with coloured icing to look like themselves. You can’t help but smile at it all. Everyone dressed in Christmas sweaters, smiling and all talking together like they were all a big family, and they were all there. Except Bucky. It was his first year in the tower, so you understood why he didn’t want to be part of the entire holiday. He would rather trap himself in his room and pretend he’s just a shadow against the walls.

“Y/N! Get your ass over here and help me!” Wanda giggles, standing up and grabbing your hands to drag you over to the couch, and she hands you an icing tube, she was decorating her gingerbread house. Was it sloppy and an absolute mess of icing and candy? Yes, but, it was adorable. It honestly suited her well.

“Okay, okay!” You giggled in response as she drags you over, and you help with putting the roof and walls apart, sliding the tip of the icing tube through the little cracks to keep it as sturdy as icing could keep gingerbread sturdy. You look over, and see Steve and Natasha knee to knee, painting a last minute Christmas ornament, and Tony carries in some drinks, setting everyone’s favourites on the table in front of where they were sitting.

“Alright, let’s get this party started. Who wants to go first?” Pepper follows after him, Peter walking behind her and helping her carry in plates to set on the tables as well, and you grab your plate.

“How shall we decide this year?” Bruce stretches.

“Youngest first!”

“We did that last year! How about oldest first?”

“We did that the year before last year.”

“Well, rock paper scissors?”

“That’ll take wayyy too long!”

“How about newest recruits?” Clint looks over at you. “We can have Y/N start, then we can play popcorn and she can decide who goes after her, and so forth.”

“Well, technically, isn’t Bucky the newest-?” You hesitate.

“Well, he doesn’t wanna be here. So unless you think you’d be able to get him out here.” Tony bends down next to the Christmas tree, grabbing your first gift, your name written in Steve’s handwriting. “Then guess what? You’re first.” You take it slowly from his hands, and look over at Steve, who smiles softly back at you before pulling Natasha closer, kissing her forehead.

“Alright. I’ll go first.” You lean back, and unwrap the gift, trying not to rip it because you know Vision likes to collect the papers, even though he doesn’t ever join, saying Christmas was useless.

Inside the wrapping paper is a box, which you have to open as well, and once you peer inside, you smile and chuckle a little.

“Oh my God Steve…” You roll your eyes.

“What? Maybe then you can definitely get Bucky out of his room.” You take out one of the pieces of cloth, and show it to him with a stupid blush and smile on your face.

“You got my daughter lingerie?” Tony glares at Steve, but you can tell he’s only joking.

“That’s okay, wait til he sees his.” You shrug. You got him condoms.

A while goes by, at least an hour. Normally unwrapping gifts wouldn’t take so long for a a normal family, but there was some sort of conversation about every item that was given. Soon, there was only one box left, it was a smaller box. It wasn’t very well wrapped, so it was either by Peter, who was improving with the help of Pepper, or Bruce, who’s arm is still messed up from the snap.

You take the little gift in your hands, but before you can unwrap it, you notice there’s no tag.

“Who’s this from?” You hold the gift up a little, and every glances at eachother. Bucky…? You don’t say it outloud. You didn’t want Steve or Tony to tease him endlessly for his horrible wrapping skills. Plus, it was possible that it wasn’t Bucky.

You start to unwrap the gift, taking off the little bow first before taking off the paper, a little blue box with a silver heart on it on the top cover. You take off the lid, and on a little cushion is a necklace, two rings wrapped around each other with the chain; and it looked like both with adorned with diamonds. It makes your lips go slightly agape, and you take it gently out of the box, smiling, and out of the corner of you eye, you see Steve smiling. He’s proud of Bucky. You assume he wasn’t sure about getting you something, and being the great friend that he is, Steve managed to push him along.

“I uh… Well whoever got it for me, I love it.” You mumble, and Wanda reaches out to help you put it around your neck, clasping it in place.

After everything is cleaned up, and everyone is ready to head to bed, Thor in his new My Little Pony bathrobe. You dry your hands from washing the dishes with Peoper, and tell everyone goodnight before going to your room, taking off your sweater, and switching from your jeans to your plain red and black pyjama pants. Then you look in the mirror, your hair a messy bun, loose strands falling out, looking a mess. And you touch the two rings that are hanging by your chest. Then, without another thought, your leave your room in your bra and pyjamas, heading straight to Buckys room. Your theory seriously needed to be confirmed.

“Buck?” You don’t even knock, you just walk in on him, reading a book in black joggers, comfortable already in bed and… shirtless… anyways.

“Do you have hands?”

“Uh- yea?” Weird question…

“Can you curl them into fists?”

“Yes..?”

“Do you know how to knock?” You roll your eyes and move to his bed, sitting in the edge by his feet, and you see his eyes go to your chest. Not your breasts, but the necklace.

“Did you get this for me…?” You get straight to the point, and you watch as he sets his book aside before leaning forward, and he crosses his legs before patting the spot in front of him, which you quickly scoot over until you’re both sitting with legs crossed directly in front of eachother.

“Yes. I did. I’m sorry I didn’t come out today, I-“

“Buck…” You hush him, and put a hand on his knee, which he stares at. “None of us are going to force you to come out of your room. If you want to be alone, then that’s fine.” You reach up, gently grabbing his chin so he’d look at you. “I love the gift, James.” He smiles, and honestly rare occurrence.

“Hah- I haven’t gotten a decent gift for anyone in a while… but Steve said you would love it…”

“Well, it’s amazing.” You want to ask so many questions. Like why rings? Why you? Why would he spend that much on you.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course Bucky, you can tell me anything.” You take your hand away from his face to lean back, but his hand basically shoots up, gently grabbing your wrist to keep your hand there.

“I uh… Fuck.” He shuffles a little. “I really like you.” You both stare at eachother for a minute, a tiny smile trying to force its way upon you. “Fuck that’s so corny, I’m sorry.”

“No, no that’s not corny. How did that word even get into your alphabet?”

“I’m not that old.”

“Yea you are.” You both stare again. “And I really like you too, James.” He smiles again, and his hand moves up your arm, until his palm is cupping your cheek.

“Tony would kill me.”

“My dad would kill the most perfect man that he chose for me, Buck. You’ll be fine. Equal treatment honestly.”

Then without warning while your babbling away, you feel his hand move to cup the back of your neck, and he pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, and you melt into it, closing your eyes and reaching back to gently run your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck… I’ve wanted to do that forever…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift…” He tilts his head, both of your foreheads connected.

“But you did.” He chuckles. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“Of course you do…”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, James…”

[sirhamburrger]

a song for you (h. chigiri x gn!reader)

thinking very hard about manshine band au... lead singer!chigiri x drummer!reader... (happy birthday my pretty princess) (manshine reminds me of maneskin lol) wc: 734 || tags/cw: mutual pining, background nagireo, reader normally lives in manchester with the band, idk this was pretty short so not much to tag lol || dividers by @cafekitsune

everyone and their mother knows about your band. manshine, the four-piece musical sensation consisting of lead singer hyoma chigiri, guitarist reo mikage, bassist seishiro nagi, and you, the drummer.

you're on the north american leg of your tour at present, and by this time you've been travelling around the world for half a year or so. you miss your band's hometown of manchester dearly, but at least you have your bandmates - your best friends - by your side.

though, reo and sei do make you feel embarrassingly single with their public displays of affection (offstage, of course, they'd never dare do anything to stir up the tabloids). you boo them when you see them cuddling on hotel room couches, and hyoma joins in, and you all laugh together. they hide it well, but you suspect the fans already knew about 'reonagi' (or 'nagireo', whatever it might be).

but the world doesn't know about the feelings you have for hyoma chigiri.

"are you seeing anyone as of now?" no, you're not. "has the nature of your job made it hard for you to enter a relationship?" oh, yes, certainly, you'll probably never get a partner.

"are you and hyoma together?"

no, you're not, and probably will never be. 

sei and reo hide it well, but you hide it better. 

before every show you get the same sinking feeling. the feeling that hyoma looks thousands of men and women in the eye every night and makes each of them feel like they're the most important person in the world. and yet, as you stare at him from up on your drummer's podium, metres away, you cannot even bring yourself to gaze upon him. like you're not worthy.

tonight, something feels different.

reo is a little more fired up than usual, and even seishiro looks a little more alive today. hyoma is humming softly as you do his hair. his vibrant locks are soft and silky between your fingers as you weave them into little braids on either side of his face.

and the look is his eyes is murky and indecipherable when he turns to you and says: "have i ever told you how much i appreciate you?"

it makes you shiver, not unpleasantly.

band manager and publicist chris prince gives you a big grin and a thumbs-up as the four of you step on stage. he stops you on the way, smiling kindly.

"this is your night," he whispers.

you thank him, though you find it a bit strange that he only says this after six months of touring.

the summer california air is intoxicating, and the band plays through the set list without a hitch. it's second nature to you all by now - you've long passed the point where you get stage nerves. you're buzzing with energy and adrenaline and all that is good in this world - you end the show with a group hug onstage and you are buzzing with energy and adrenaline and them.

but you aren’t expecting hyoma to return to his stage position, picking his acoustic guitar up. sei and reo simply smile on as you look between the three of them, utterly confused.

“this song is for a very special person in my life,” hyoma says, and the crowd goes absolutely wild as your eyes sting with tears. 

he strums the first few chords. you recognise them from the song hyoma’s been working on for the past few weeks in between shows. he was eventually going to send a demo to the producers, but…

he says your name, and the cheers from the audience grow even louder. 

“will you join me?”

… but you’re the only one who knows the lyrics by heart, knows the tune like it’s the blood running through your veins. every strum of the guitar is a strum at your heartstrings.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” tears are forming in his deep pink eyes, and you feel your own vision turn blurry as well. “i’ve loved you for many years, but never really had the courage to tell you until now. i wrote this song for you.”

you sniffle, smiling. “that’s fine.”

“so…” he shoots you a hopeful smile, four bars to first verse. “will you sing this song with me?”

and as reo pushes you to stand beside the lead singer, you wonder if chris would tell you off if you were to kiss hyoma right now.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.