#kid that stared at the wall having fake conversations

[wombrion]

I love your style but i feel you could make Homura even SADDER

no...............but i can draw her dumber.

[dovesdreaming]

Deadpool x reader who just randomly goes non verbal sometimes and just loves to listen to him rant and yap about things 🤗

Wade the yapper

If you saw what I said in my last post, no you didn’t (I got inspiration and finished this). I hope you enjoy this and that it’s accurate. I need more Deadpool requests!!

Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, is a yapper. He very rarely shuts his mouth, it’s usually running a 100 miles per hour talking about anything that pops into his mind, which is normally some dirty joke. He talks enough for a whole group of people never mind just the two of you. So when you have times where you go non verbal he probably doesn’t notice that much. Even when you’re talking in the conversation it can be hard to keep up with him, he’s switching topics constantly.

In the beginning of your friendship/relationship when Wade eventually noticed you’d gone non verbal he would try to stop talking, thinking you’d enjoy some quiet time instead but when he noticed you urging him to continue he couldn’t contain himself. Those few minutes of trying to be quiet were exhausting and he just word vomited. He eventually learnt you loved his yabbering. He noticed how you would stare at him, eyes full of interest in what he was saying and he had never felt so loved and appreciated. He would always try to make whatever he was saying more interesting for you and add jokes to make you smile.

Whenever you went non verbal and just listen to him he found himself feeling slightly nervous like he wanted to impress you. He couldn’t handle the fact you were so interested in what he had to say and would always make self deprecating jokes, which you would tell him off for later. He wouldn’t show it though he would be just like a kid in a toy store, all over excited and bouncing off the walls.

When you did speak in conversations though he would always make sure to listen attentively as you do for him and in crowd settings would always make sure you weren’t talked over. If anyone tried it, it’s game over for them.

If you went non verbal in public he would be so protective of you and wouldn’t let anyone say a bad word about you, if they do they should expect a knock on there door later tonight, once you’ve fallen asleep. He would gladly say your order for you or anything else you need.

Overall, Wade has absolutely no issue with you going non verbal at times. He knows he can speak for the both of you and will gladly do so. He makes sure you know he doesn’t mind and feels so admired by you when you take interest in what he’s saying. Would probably lightly blush (if he can) and act all over the top about it like fake fainting at your flattery.

[satorusugurugurl]

We Can Be Louder

Summary: When staying in a hotel, a couple next door is a little too loud— but you and Nanami can be louder.

Characters: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: hotel smut, unprotected sex, loud, vocal, moans, dirty talk, p in v, creampie, language

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I have a mighty need to grope Nanami’s butt rawr! 💚💚💚

“Ooooooh God,” a high pitched voice rang from the hotel room right next to you. “Oh God, baby fuck.” Your eyes widened as you turned your head to look back at the wall behind you. The sound of their bed slamming against the wall was almost deafening and powerful enough to cause your own bed to shake.

The sound of their phony moans made your nose turn up in sympathy for the girl and embarrassment from how loud they were. Nanami sat beside you in bed, placing his book down as the moans grew louder. From the whimpers and grunts, you had an inkling that this was not going to last long for them. Your best guess was that it was a young college couple; maybe it was their first time, or they weren't as experienced. Your hypothesis was all focused on the girl who was practically moaning like a porn star. It's wholly fake and unnatural.

“She’s faking it,” You announced to Kento as you took a sip of your wine, “and the poor guy has no idea that she is.” Nanami chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows as he placed his bookmark in place, turning to watch you closely. “I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't last longer than five minutes.”

“Oh, Love,” Nanami chuckled deeply, the sound igniting a fire inside you. “It's going to end way faster than that.”

“Oooh, my goodness, Ken, what makes you say that?”

“Nngh!” the stranger next door shouted as the bed started creaking again. “D-Don’t squeeze so t-tight!”

The corner of Nanami’s mouth twitched as he fought against a grin. “That right there speaks volumes.”

You found yourself unable to focus on your book, more intrigued by the young couple next door. You kept stealing glances at the wall, listening in on their not-so-quiet conversation. The girl kept screaming, ‘Oh my God, ’ while her companion kept asking questions like, ‘Oh yeah?’ and ‘You like that baby?’ It was quite entertaining. They both were inexperienced, unsure of what to say in bed, only having porn or books to use as a reference as to what sex would be like. They were mixing fiction into reality.

The bed pounding got faster and louder. “Oh,” you laughed, “he’s gonna finish soon.” Nanami laughed as you fist pumped in the air to the sound of the bed frame being slammed into the wall.

“I’m gonna-” the young man shouted, “I’m gonna blow my load!” You choked on your wine at his declaration, the alcohol coming out of your nose. “Oooooooh fuck!!!” You covered your mouth, coughing roughly as the man moaned loudly. It wasn’t short after that the girl gave a very poor performance of her own orgasm. Apparently, she didn’t want him to feel bad that she hadn’t finished with him. The moans that had barely started died down, leaving you and Nanami staring at the wall with sympathy. Glancing down at your watch, you grinned, holding it out for Nanami to see. “Five minutes on the spot.”

He shook his head, laughing slightly, “Pretty good for a first time; I can’t tell you how long I lasted my first time.” He grabbed his glass of wine and drank before running his tongue over his lips. “I’m relatively certain the girl I was with just laid there awkwardly.”

“Yeah,” you turned on your side, looking up at him, “my first time was at this guy's house. I was so excited to do it finally.” You held your fist, putting a single finger up as you spoke. “There was hardly any kissing, we undressed ourselves, no foreplay, he got on top, and it was over in literally one minute.”

“This is the part where you tell me you’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope, one minute was all I got. Hell, I didn’t have my first real orgasm until I was twenty-two.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” he put his book down on the nightstand. “what do you say we make up for that first time?” You giggled, grinning ear to ear as Nanami undid the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll make sure to give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Make up for the ones you’ve had to fake all those years ago.”

You lay flat on your back as Nanami removed his shirt, dropping it to the ground. Slowly, he crawled on top of you, looking at you as if you were his prey. There was a dark and needy gleam in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat. You knew right there that it would be a long, sweaty night with him. He began running his long fingers underneath your nightgown. He slowly pushed the silky fabric up, bunching it at your hips. His lips slowly pressed kisses along the inside of your thighs as you ran your finger through his hair, tugging it softly.

A growl that was full of desire escaped his lips as he tugged the nightgown off all the way, throwing it across the room. Before you knew it, he was pulling his pajama pants off, exposing his hardened erection. Licking your lips, you spread your legs open, giving him a better view of your body that he loved. His eyes wandered down, taking you all in, inch by inch, before he grabbed both your legs, putting them over his shoulders. Your mouth suddenly went dry as the head of his cock brushed against your opening.

“God, you’re soaking wet.” He whispered, rocking his hips slowly, the swollen head of his throbbing cock brushed gently against your clit. “I need you. I need to make up for the first time.” Rolling your eyes, you rocked back against him, moaning at the pleasurable sensations rushing through your pussy.

“Nanami, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so yes, every time we have sex, it’s better than my first time.” You dangled your feet over his shoulders, the head of his cock pressed firmly against your opening. “So what do you say? You stop teasing me and fuck me already. Let’s show these college kids how it’s done.”

He chuckled before kissing you deeply and pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Slowly he pushed into you, his cock slipping past your slick folds, stretching your walls. The sensation left you moaning loudly as you gripped the sheets underneath you. You squeezed around his cock, taking all of him inside of you as he pressed against your cervix. “Fuck Love,” he groaned, nipping at your lip, “no matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get over how good you feel.” As soon as he was entirely inside of you, his body relaxed. The two of you relished in the feeling of each other's skin.

His hands traced over your body, his hands groping your breasts before sliding down and running down the curves of your body. You mirrored his actions, trailing your hands down his bare and muscular back. Your nails grazed him softly before meeting the fat of his ass. It was at this moment that he pulled out of you, looking into your eyes before he plunged back into you. You cried out, your head falling against the pillows, and your lips parted. His thrusts left your eyes watering at the intense sensation. Nanami hissed, repeating the action several times, each thrust harder than the previous one. The intensity of the rhythm had sweat beading against his neck and over his chest as sweat ran down your own collarbone, trailing over the swells of your breasts.

Your hands grope his ass, allowing you to feel it flex with each thrust in and out of your tight wet pussy. With each push of his hips, the bed slams into the wall behind you. With each thrust that was angeled right against your g-spot, you screamed. As your screams increased in volume, Kento slammed his lips against yours as you cried out in pleasure, shouting his name to the heavens. You wanted everyone in the hotel to know who was fucking you this good. Who was exploring and ravishing your body, treating you like a goddess. When you were with Nanami, it was like experiencing heaven on earth. It was so surreal and so perfect.

The bed slammed harder into the wall as Nanami’s grunts and growls of pleasure grew louder. Your name was like a curse on his lips; it came out like a hiss, a groan, and a gasp. His name escaped your lips like a prayer as you begged him to make you feel good.

“Nanami! Oh fuck Kento!” He stared down at you, smirking at your moans. “Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!” He captured your lips against his, his hips hauling harder as he lifted one of your legs in the air. “Oh my God!” you cried out, your eyes rolling back as his cock slammed into your cervix.

“You like that, Love? You like my cock buried deep inside of you?”

‘Y-Yes Ken!” You cried out, digging your fingers into the skin of his arms, “I love it! I love it when you fuck me!”

“That’s my girl,” you clenched harder around him. “Oh darling, are you going to cum already? Cum all over my thick hard cock?” The pleasure inside began to tighten along with the coil in your lower abdomen. Nanami reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to thrust. Your inner walls throbbed around him as the tightening coil within you threatened to snap at any given second. “Don’t hold back, cum for me, Love, cum for me.” Another brush against your clit had the coil in your abdomen snapped, sending you over the edge.

“Kento!!” You screamed, your walls clenching down around his cock. They fluttered as the immense pleasure rushed through you. Causing your body to wither and jerk underneath him, nails digging into his skin as you came. “Oh my God!”

“Love, fuck nngh!!” He grunted, hips stilling as he came deep within you. You shuddered, mouth falling agape as you felt hot spurts of cum coat your walls. “Oh fuck!” Kento let your leg go before he collapsed on top of you. His chest heaved as he pressed kisses along your shoulder before burying his face against your skin, remaining there.

As he lay on top of you, mumbling how much he loved you, you couldn’t help but smile. Glancing down at your left ring finger, you giggled happily. The ring glimmered in the low lights of the hotel suite. Only two days into your honeymoon, it has been amazing so far. It was a reminder that this was how the rest of your life would be. You and Nanami in bed together, going on trips, loving your loves to the fullest.

“Say, Mrs. Nanami?” Nanami grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. You pushed some hair out of his face, pressing your lips together.

“Yes, Mr. Nanami?”

“Let’s put our books away for the rest of tonight; I would much rather spend the night here inside of you.” He trailed his calloused fingers over your sensitive skin. His request fluttered your heart as you kissed his forehead, nodding in response to his question. “Good, let’s see how long it’ll take for the couple next door to regret getting the room next to the honeymoon suite~.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[jaythes1mp]

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

8919 words, 46418 characters, 408 sentences, 290 paragraphs, 32.8 pages.

The car comes to a stop outside a fancy restaurant. The building is huge, the exterior lit up with soft, warm lights. A Doorman is standing outside, the entrance framed by a pair of elegant lion statues either side.

Bruce gets out first, holding out his hand to help you out of the car. His face is neutral as you step onto the sidewalk, his hand still gripping yours. He gives a short nod to the Doorman, who immediately opens the door to the restaurant without a word.

The interior of the restaurant is just as impressive as the outside. High ceilings, a grand lobby, and a row of archways leading to the dining areas. Expensive artwork hangs on the walls, the lighting soft but flattering. The interior is opulent, with glittering chandeliers and high arched ceilings. The soft buzz of conversation fills the air, mixing with the sound of silverware clinking against china.

The sound of soft classical music filled the air, mingling with low murmurs of hushed conversations. Almost immediately, as soon as Bruce steps inside, the atmosphere hushes. Every eye turns to look at him, then at you. The way everyone was watching you made you squirm. It was like everyone except you was in on some sort of secret.

Bruce leads you through the restaurant, his hand is still holding yours, his steps confident and assured. You get the sense that the staff know him well as you both pass, various people nod in greeting as Bruce murmurs a few words to them.

Finally, you reach a private booths, secluded in a corner, away from any potential interruptions.

The private booth you’re settled into has a dark, rich oak interior, with a large semi-circular leather booth wrapping around the table in the centre. The table is covered in a crisp white tablecloth, with a variety of fine china and sparkling silverware laid out.

Bruce motions for you to take a seat as he slips into the booth opposite you, his eyes still quietly taking in your features. You mumble a soft thanks in return. Feeling well underdressed.

A waiter appears beside your table, a tablet in his hand, a fake, courteous smile on his face as he addresses you both.

"Good evening, Mr Wayne. What can I get for you tonight?"

Bruce’s voice is measured as he responds, his gaze never leaving you. "Good evening. A bottle of the house red, and two glasses, please."

The waiter nods and disappears, leaving the two of you alone and enveloped in quiet. There's a strained atmosphere in the air, Bruce's eyes watching you intently as you shift awkwardly in the booth.

The atmosphere in the booth is tense, the silence between you and Bruce almost deafening. Trying to break the ice, you attempt a joke, your voice soft as you speak.

"Buffet, huh? You'd think a place this fancy would have a set menu."

Bruce quirks an eyebrow at your joke, a small smile flickering across his face. Despite the situation, he can't help but find it endearing.

He leans back in the leather booth, his broad frame taking up the majority of the space. "Well, I figured you might prefer to pick your own food.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes still trained on you, "Unless you'd rather I pick for you."

Your chuckle is nervous and soft, a strange mix of anxiety and amusement. You feel a touch out of place, sitting in this posh restaurant, with Bruce Wayne staring across at you.

"No, no," you say quickly, "I can pick my own food. I don't want to trouble you."

The tension in the air is thicker now, the weight of expectations almost palpable. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, your eyes darting around the booth before settling back on Bruce's unwavering gaze.

You take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. You feel embarrassed, almost vulnerable in your ignorance. "Um, actually," you admit, "I'm not really sure what's on the menu here."

There's a hint of vulnerability in your voice, a vulnerability you'd usually try to hide in these situations. But in front of Bruce, you can feel yourself slipping, your guard lowering just an inch. He always seemed to leave that effect with you.

His expression softens as he watches you fidget nervously across from him. He notices every little detail, the way your fingers play with the hem of your shirt, the way your gaze darts around the booth before settling back on him.

Bruce's eyes soften as he hears the hint of vulnerability in your voice. It's a sound that's all too familiar to him, yet coming from you, it tugs at his heartstrings nonetheless. He leans forward, his forearms resting against the table, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Don't worry about it," he reassures you, his voice gentle, "You don’t have to pretend to have a taste for fine dining or anything. You can tell me what you want, or I can order something for you."

Bruce's words are a surprising contrast to the confident, almost arrogant persona he usually exudes. Here, in this moment, he seems... gentle, almost fragile in his own way.

He pauses for a moment before continuing, his eyes studying your face for any kind of response. "Although, I have to admit, I'm a little surprised to find you out alone at this time of night."

Your head snaps up suddenly as realisation hits you. "Oh, shit." You curse under your breath, your eyes wide with realisation.

The guilt settles in as you start to consider the possibility that you've interrupted something important. Maybe Bruce had a prior commitment, a business meeting or a social event, and you've stumbled right into the middle of it.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to intrude. Did I ruin your plans for tonight?"

Bruce watches you carefully as your realization sinks in, your eyes widening in guilt. He notices how your body tenses, how your fingers twist nervously in your lap.

He lets your words hang in the air for a moment before responding. "Ruin my plans? You think you're the one interrupting my night?"

His words are soft, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone. As if the thought of you interrupting his plans is almost absurd to him.

Bruce had patiently waited for nearly forty-five minutes, his evening already planned out. He had booked out the entire restaurant, reserved for just the two of you, and a select few of nobodies, with the kitchen specially rented for your taste in food. He had gone through all of this trouble, just to see you.

And now, sitting across from him, you had believed that your little run-in had ruined all of his well-laid plans.

Bruce sees the guilt and worry in your expression, your shoulders tense and brow furrowed. He can't help but feel a pang of something within his chest at your expression. Of course, you would think you ruined his plans, that you somehow inconvenienced him or got in the way of something important.

As your words hang in the air, he considers telling you the truth. That these were his plans. That spending time with you - watching you grow, listening to you breathe, hearing your voice - meant more to him than anything else that the world could ever offer.

Spending time with you, his precious one, trumped all else. He would willingly cancel any other plans, rearrange any meetings, just for the opportunity to sit across from you like this. Spending time with you trumps anything and everything else.

Tonight, however, he would feign ignorance. He would act as if you were merely a convenient disruption to his otherwise busy schedule. He didn't want you to know the extent of his dedication and devotion to you. Not yet. One day you would come to be aware of the fact. Tonight however, he’ll pretend.

Bruce's face betrays nothing as he watches the guilt and worry etched on your features. He can see it clearly, the worry and guilt in the set of your shoulders, the furrow of your brow. It hurts him to see you this way, to think that somehow, you are the one who ruined his evening plans.

As your words hang in the air, a deep, silent pang resonates within his chest. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the furrow of your brow as you chew on your lip. He notices every little change in your expression, and it makes his heart ache a little bit. He wants to tell you. He wants to reassure you. To tell you that you didn't ruin anything, that you were the plan.

Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence. "You didn't ruin anything," he says, his voice low and reassuring. "I'm not too bothered. It's not like I had something particularly important to do tonight."

He pauses for a moment, watching as your expression changes to reflect the relief that washes over you. He can see the tension leaving your body as his words sink in.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his mouth curving into a small smile. "Besides, I'd rather spend my night out with you than anyone else."

He's treading dangerously close to revealing just how important you are to him, how much you actually mean. But he just can't keep the words from escaping. To not let you know who you really are to him. You were his child. His sweet, broken, child. One that he will soon mend back together gently. Give you everything you deserved yet never got to experience.

Your expression immediately relaxes, relief washing over your face as you take in his words. It's hard to describe the feeling that floods through you. It's a strange mixture of comfort, surprise, and reassurance.

His soft chuckle and smile bring a warmth to your chest that only he can manage to ignite.

As he says he'd rather spend the night with you than anyone else, your breath catches in your throat.

You can feel the danger in his words, his care and devotion carefully concealed behind a thinly veiled facade. There's a raw honesty to his tone that makes you shiver.

The meaning behind his words hitting you like a wave. This man, this powerful, wealthy, influential man, would rather spend his time with you.

You have to bite your lip to conceal the small smile. No one has said they’d rather spend their time with you. Definitely not that woman. It so unexpected and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The way your expression relaxes, the surprise and relief etched on your features, makes his chest tighten a little bit. It's a feeling he's never experienced before. You're reacting in a way that is completely foreign to him. Completely new. Something he's never really gotten to experience.

Bruce notices that you're biting back a smile, and a wave of satisfaction courses through him. He's able to elicit such an unexpected, genuine reaction from you. One he's sure you don't give to just anyone. It's a feeling of pride.

He’ll have to message Tim to send him the cameras footage of that moment later.

The waiter suddenly reappears at the table, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

Bruce's attention momentarily diverts as he nods his thanks to the waiter, taking the bottle and the pair of glasses.

He gives the waiter a dismissive gesture, indicating that he can take his leave. The waiter murmurs a soft, "Please enjoy your evening, Mr Wayne," before he exits the booth once more.

He pops the cork from the wine with ease, his hands almost like a practiced expert.

He then pours a generous amount into both glasses, the liquid a dark, rich color as it sloshes against the glass.

He hands you one of the glasses, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment as his eyes meet yours.

"Take a sip," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Oh. I’m not the biggest wine drin...” the words die on your tongue by the encouraging grin on his lips. You look down to the rich red liquid, swirling the glass for a second before closing your eyes and drowning down a small sip.

It... wasn’t bad.

He watches as you hesitate, the words dying on your tongue, before taking a small sip of the wine. He can see the surprise flicker in your eyes as you taste the liquid. There's a hint of doubt on your face, as if you're expecting it to taste awful.

When you don't wince or make a facial expression, he lets out a soft chuckle. A satisfied sound that's low and gravelly.

"See? I don't have that bad taste in wine, do I?"

You manage to make a small sound of agreement, despite the heat of embarrassment that creeps up your face.

His chuckle, low and gravelly, sends a shiver down your spine. It's a sound that never fails to make you feel both calm and a bit flustered.

You take another, slightly larger sip of wine this time, the liquid warm as it slides down your throat, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake.

He observes as you swallow the wine, his eyes never leaving your face. He can see the slight flush to your cheeks, the way your body reacts to the warm liquid in your system. There's a small spark of triumph in his eyes.

He takes a sip of his own glass, his gaze still fixed on you.

"You're not a frequent drinker, right?" he asks, his tone casual. He already knows the answer.

You shake your head, the heat still present on your cheeks. You take another small sip of the wine, almost in an effort to cool down.

"No, I'm not," you admit, your voice a touch more shy than you wanted it to be, "I don't really drink that much. Bad experiences in the past.”

It was the truth. You didn't drink often, and you certainly didn't want to accidentally embarrass yourself in front of Bruce Wayne of all people. And the men that woman used to bring home left a sour view on alcohol for you.

His eyes soften a bit at your admission, a look of quiet understanding passing over his features. He lets the silence hang for a moment before responding.

"I see," he says. There's an undertone in his voice, almost a hint of anger at the implications of your past.

But he doesn't press the subject any further. He has his suspicions, but he won't ask you to dig up painful memories. At least, not here. Not now. Maybe someday. Maybe someday he'll get you to open up to him fully.

As the quiet stretches between you two, you take another sip of the wine, letting the warmth of the liquid soothe your nerves.

You can feel his eyes watching you, his gaze steady and intense, even as he tries to soften his features. It feels both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. Terrifying, because you feel so seen under his gaze. And reassuring, because you trust that he's being sincere.

The wine is starting to take effect now, your head feeling a bit fuzzy, your inhibitions slightly lowered.

The change in topic is abrupt, but it allows you a moment to compose yourself.

Bruce's voice breaks the silence, his fingers absentmindedly rolling the stem of his wine glass between them as he addresses you. "Have you had enough time to think over what you're craving?" he inquires, his eyes fixed on your face, observing your expression. His gaze soft.

Your thoughts are slightly fuzzy now, the wine having settled in your stomach, making it easier for you to express yourself.

You think for a moment, your mind swirling as you try to think of something to eat. Your first instinct is to tell him it doesn't matter, that you can eat anything. But the look on his face, the way he's studying you, tells you that he won't accept that answer.

So you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

"Nuggets," you murmur.

Humiliation washes over you, the realization of your faux pas sinking in. You cringe inwardly, mentally kicking yourself for even entertaining the idea that there might be something like a children's menu in a high-class establishment like this one. There's practically a "no minors allowed" sign plastered over the door. You can almost hear the staff snickering behind your back.

You want to bang your head against the table, sink into the leather seats and disappear.

He can't help but raise an eyebrow at your response. Nuggets.

He almost wants to laugh, the sound bubbling up in his chest. He manages to hold it back however, sensing the embarrassment that's painted on your face. There's a certain... charm to your honest, albeit slightly tipsy response.

But he finds the suggestion endearing, the image of you with a plate of nuggets amusing. It's such a simple request, a request that so many people would immediately dismiss. But the fact that you had suggested it, had actually thought there was a possibility of this place offering such a thing, somehow makes his chest feel lighter.

Your ears burn with embarrassment, and your eyes fall to the table, avoiding his gaze. You half expect him to roll his eyes, to make some comment about how childish your choice is.

But instead, you notice a flicker of something in his eyes before he speaks. It's a mixture of surprise, and something akin to amusement.

He holds back a laugh, the sound coming out as a low rumble in his chest. When he speaks, there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Nuggets, huh?"

The heat on your face increases at his words, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of the wine and the embarrassment. Your hands fidget nervously in your lap, fingers twisting and untwisting, looking for something to do.

You can't believe you just admitted that. That you actually suggested you order nuggets in a fancy establishment like this one. God, this is so pathetic.

You open your mouth to try to amend your statement, trying to salvage the already ruined evening, but no words come out.

He notices your flustered state, the way your face is flushed and your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. It's an endearing sight, and he feels a pang in his chest, a mixture of protectiveness and affection. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that there's nothing wrong with wanting nuggets.

He lets out another soft chuckle, his eyes softening even more as he speaks. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. I can order them for you."

He’s silently thanking Dick for the list of food places you frequent.

Your face only flushes deeper, the heat practically emanating from your skin now. You hadn't expected him to actually agree to it. You were sure he'd laugh, or tell you to pick something more suitable for your surroundings.

You hazard a glance up at him, meeting his gaze, and are met with a soft, earnest look in his eyes. He's not mocking you. He's not looking down on you.

The realisation sends a wave of relief through you, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "You would? Really?"

Jason would have made fun of you for how you sounded.

"Of course," he responds immediately, his tone completely genuine.

He motions to the waiter, who's standing at a discrete distance, waiting to be summoned. It takes only a moment for the waiter to hurry over to the table, his expression schooled into perfect professionalism.

Bruce addresses the waiter bluntly. "Nuggets," he states, his eyes flicking back to you, silently asking you to confirm.

When you avoid the waiters eye contact Bruce lets out a small chuckle, quickly hidden into his palm as if he’d coughed. “And one medium rare steak with mixed vegetables.”

The waiter nods, his expression remaining neutral, though you can see a hint of bemusement in his eyes. To hear Bruce Wayne, billionaire and Gotham City's biggest philanthropist, order nuggets of all things must be an unusual sight for the man.

You can't help but feel relieved that the waiter doesn't comment on the order though. The last thing you need is even more embarrassment.

Your eyes widen a bit at the addition of the steak, and you shoot Bruce a questioning glance.

Bruce catches your questioning glance, his eyes sparkling with an impish mischief. He can see the surprise and confusion in your expression, and he can’t help but smirk a bit.

"Don't worry," he assures you, his tone a touch too innocent, “the steak's for me.”

You deadpan. Seriously? That was his way of assuaging your worries? Steak for him?

As you give him a flat look, he can't help but chuckle at your unimpressed expression.

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence, "I'm hungry."

He leans back into his seat, a small, amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches you. He can see the mixture of surprise and skepticism on your face, and he finds it almost endearing.

You roll your eyes, a small huff escaping your throat. Typical rich guy, ordering steak.

There's a comfortable silence that falls over the both of you, as you watch the waiter walk away from the table. The alcohol in your system has left you feeling a bit light-headed, and you can’t help but feel a bit more at ease. Like you can fully relax for once.

But a question burns at the back of your mind, and the alcohol makes it a bit easier to voice it.

You break the silence, your voice somewhat slurred as you speak. "Can I ask you something?" you say, your tone casual.

Bruce turns his attention fully back to you, his gaze steady and attentive. He can see the light flush on your cheeks, a result of the alcohol in your system.

"Of course," he responds, leaning forward a little bit, "ask me anything."

You pause for a moment, searching for the right words as you try to articulate your thoughts. Your mind is a muddled mess of alcohol and shyness, which makes it a bit harder than usual for you to speak. But with a bit of willpower, you manage to push the words out of your mouth.

"Why do you do what you do? Why do you want me to do it?" you ask, your voice soft.

His eyebrow raises in a silent, inquiring question, encouraging you to elaborate on your question.

Your voice cuts through the air, your words firm and a touch bewildered. "Everything," you gesture emphatically with your hand, the vague motion encompassing everything you're trying to convey. "The business. Helping people, charities. You could have anyone to do whatever you wanted."

You pause for a moment, your confusion and disbelief clear in your expression as you meet his gaze. "Why would you need to fund my random blog?"

Bruce leans back into his seat, his features taking on a contemplative look. He can sense the confusion and disbelief in your tone, and he can understand why you're asking such a question.

He takes a moment to answer, letting his words settle in your mind. When he speaks again, his voice is steady and sincere.

"It's simple really," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "I see potential. I see someone who’s willing to try, to make a difference. I suppose I just want to give you the means to do it."

It’s a nice sentiment, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

Your eyes flick to his face, searching his expression for any hint of deception. But there’s nothing but honesty in his gaze. He truly believes in you, in your potential. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

You try to process his words, the weight of what he’s saying slowly sinking in.

There’s a question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re hesitant to ask it. It feels too personal, too vulnerable. But the alcohol in your system makes you brave, and the question slips out of your mouth before you have a chance to stop it.

"Why me?" Your voice is soft, almost inaudible.

Bruce's gaze softens at your question, his eyes studying your face intently.

"Why not you?" he replies. The words are simple, but they carry a weight to them.

He can see the vulnerability in your expression, the desire to hear a more detailed answer. But there’s a part of him that’s hesitant to fully divulge his reasons.

You lean back against the plush leather of your seat, your thoughts racing.

You're honestly not sure how to respond to that. The depth and sincerity behind his words catch you off guard, and you're momentarily at a loss for what to say.

Bruce watches the emotions play across your face, the mixture of surprise and flattery at his answer. He can tell you’re surprised, maybe even a bit wary in accepting his response. But he can also see a hint of curiosity, a hint of eagerness to know the why behind him.

He takes a subtle breath before he speaks, choosing his words carefully.

"Because I believe you have a voice worth listening to," he says quietly.

You bite your tongue, looking away in thought.

Bruce knew that his words would get to you. That he could charm his way through an explanation rather than admit the truth.

You can feel his words stirring something within you, a mixture of emotions. On one hand, it's flattering, almost dizzying, to know that someone like Bruce Wayne believes in you that much. But on the other hand, there's a nagging skepticism, an inkling that there's more to his reasons than he's letting on.

Your fingers pick at the fabric of your sleeve, a nervous habit you can never quite shake off. You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his.

"Is that really the only reason?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Bruce can see the skepticism in your eyes, the way your fingers pick nervously at the fabric of your clothes. He can tell you're searching for more, that you want to hear a deeper reason for his actions.

His gaze doesn’t waver, his composure not faltering even a bit.

"Why? Do you think there's another reason?" he asks, his tone as casual as ever, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

You shake your head, feeling slightly flustered at his response. You had hoped he'd offer up more information, give you a deeper explanation. But he's not budging, not willing to divulge more than he's letting on.

You let out a small, frustrated huff, the sound almost inaudible. You're not sure how to respond to his casual denial, his nonchalance in dismissing your question.

For a brief moment, you almost contemplate asking more direct and personal questions. But the moment passes, and the waiter returns with your food.

The waiter silently places your plate in front of you, the golden-brown nuggets sitting innocently on the white china. There's an awkward moment of silence as Bruce and yourself glance at the plate, before the waiter quietly slips away.

You stare at the heaped plate of food before you, your eyes widening at the sheer amount of food placed before you. The white china plate is practically overflowing, not a single part of it left untouched by the generous portions of food. You swallow hard, your gaze shifting to Bruce, who is calmly cutting into his own steak.

"Why is there so much...?" you can't help but ask, your voice laced with bewilderment. "Is this normal here?"

No, this isn't normal. Bruce has made arrangements to ensure you have a substantial meal, much more than usual. He’d grown worried over the small portions you’ve been making for yourself recently. Each day watching the cameras with an angered expression. So you will be eating every piece of chicken on that plate and you will be enjoying it.

He’s scolded Jason far too many times for letting you do this to yourself, it’s about time he’d taken it into his own hands.

Bruce can see the surprise written all over your face, the way your eyes widen at the sight of the food on your plate. He lets out a small, amused huff, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"They tend to be... generous with their portions here," he responds, an air of nonchalance in his tone. "Don't waste it."

He cuts another piece of his steak, taking a bite as he watches you. His gaze flicks back and forth between his own plate and yours, making sure you’re actually eating.

You swallow hard, your gaze shifting back to your plate. You're not sure how you're supposed to eat this much food, let alone even finish it. The small bites you're accustomed to taking seem pitiful in comparison to the massive amount of food before you. But you know you can't refuse, not with Bruce watching you, silently waiting for you to take a bite.

You pick up a single nugget, gingerly taking a bite. The crisp texture and flavor of the nugget fill your senses, and for a moment you momentarily forget about your worries.

Bruce watches you carefully, his gaze fixed on your every move. He takes another bite of his steak, his eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he speaks.

"Slow down, you'll choke," he advises, his tone jokingly admonishing.

You pause for a moment, the nugget halfway to your mouth. You shoot him a brief glare, momentarily forgetting your manners.

"No, I won't," you argue, your voice slightly muffled as you chew.

Bruce can't help but suppress a small chuckle. Your stubbornness amuses him, your irritation at his comment almost endearing.

"You will," he says, his tone firm, though there’s an amused sparkle in his eyes. "You're eating too fast. Slow down, enjoy the food."

He takes another bite of his steak, his gaze still fixed on you. It’s amusing to see you pout at him, your expression somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment.

You huff in irritation, rolling your eyes at his words. But deep down, you know he's right, his voice echoing your own internal thoughts.

You take a moment to collect yourself, forcing yourself to slow down as you take another bite. The food is good, the flavors rich and satisfying. But you can't help but grumble under your breath.

Your words are delivered with a mix of petulance and half-hearted jest. "You're not my parent, you know," you mutter, the words leaving your mouth with a hint of teasing.

It's clear you're unaware of the way his knuckles tighten around the handle of the knife until they're almost white, nor do you notice the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly at your words. You're entirely oblivious to the possessive, dark fatherly look that flashes in his eyes.

Bruce has to bite his tongue to refrain from correcting you. He was your dad. You just didn't know it yet.

Patience, he has to remind himself.

Bruce is thankful for the years of his rigid self-discipline, years of controlling his thoughts, feelings, and emotions. He’s thankful for the tight control he has over his mind, the strict control over his senses. Because in that moment, the urge to correct you, to claim you as his child is immense. It’s difficult for him to keep his words at bay.

He clears his throat, the sound more of a forced noise than anything. His voice is slightly strained as he responds to your words. Though he forces the calm, steady tone of his words to remain.

"Just eat your food.”

You're too preoccupied with the taste of the food in your mouth to notice his brief change in tone. His words break you out of your thoughts, your attention shifting to him.

You glance back down at the plate in front of you, the pile of food still standing despite your efforts to eat it.

"I’m trying," you say, a slight hint of annoyance in your tone. "But you're giving me a lot of food here."

Bruce remains silent, his gaze fixated on your plate, calculating the amount of food left.

He takes a moment to think, silently observing you. He scans the remaining food on your plate, mentally calculating how many more bites you’d have to take. He’s not satisfied in the slightest, not until he can see your plate completely empty. He needs to be sure you're going to finish all of it.

“You can do it,” he says, his words a simple, casual statement.

You groan. “dude.”

You roll your eyes at his words, your annoyance with the situation growing. The amount of food still left in front of you seems almost intimidating, especially with Bruce silently watching you.

You’re not used to eating so much, and the thought of finishing all of it makes you slightly nauseous.

“I feel like I’m being fattened up for something,” you grumble under your breath, your tone half-serious, half-joking.

Bruce leans back in his seat, a silent chuckle escaping his lips at your comment. The sound is subtle, only barely heard in the quiet restaurant.

The corners of his mouth twitch, a hint of a smirk forming.

“You ate more than this the last time we were out together, kid.” He says in return, his voice teasing.

His words are meant in playful jest, but there’s a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a hint of protectiveness, the protective fatherly instinct lingering within him.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, your expression quickly morphing into annoyance.

"Oh, shut up," you retort, a hint of petulance in your tone. You continue to eat, trying to ignore the smug smile on his face.

You chew on a nugget for a few moments, contemplating his words. "...You remember that?”

Bruce’s smirk widens, watching as your expression morphs to an obvious mixture of surprise, annoyance, and mild humiliation. His tone is casual, yet the amusement is obvious.

“Of course I do,” he responds simply. “I pay attention to things.”

For a normal person, what you ate over two weeks ago would be forgettable, insignificant. But Bruce Wayne isn’t a normal person, not by a long shot. He’s observant, his mind committing details to memory almost second nature to him. Anything that relates to you he makes sure to keep note of. All of his kids interest, really.

You huff in annoyance at his response.

“Oh, right. You’re a billionaire, how could I forget,” you snark back, rolling your eyes at the casual way he responded.

The fact that he’d remembered such a small, insignificant detail of your night together caught you off guard. And for a brief moment, it makes you feel… special, the idea that you’re important enough for him to remember things about you.

“What else do you remember from that night?” you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Bruce takes a moment to respond, his gaze locked on yours. There’s an almost imperceptible smirk on his face, a hint of pride.

He remembers the entire night, every little detail. Every word that slipped from your lips, every small gesture you made. He remembers it all, committing each memory to the back of his mind. And even if you could somehow forget the colour of your coat, he’s always got the footage from that night to look over time and time again.

But he won’t tell you that, not yet. Instead, he responds with a casual yet vague answer.

“I remember a lot.”

You hum, “mysterious.”

You raise an eyebrow at his response, the vague yet casual tone of his voice. It’s an answer that gives nothing away, yet at the same time makes it clear that he remembers more than he’s letting on.

The thought of all the possible things he could remember makes something churn in your stomach. Part of you wants to pry, to ask more.

But you know better. There’s a reason Bruce Wayne is Gotham City’s most popular billionaire. The man’s secretive, that much is clear.

Your curious expression does not escape Bruce’s notice. He can see the way you’re contemplating your next question, your mind working a mile a minute.

His gaze flickers over your expression, taking in every detail. He knows you’re tempted to ask more, to pry and probe him for more information. He can read you almost as easily as he reads a book.

But he remains calm and collected, his smile never wavering.

“Finishing your food, yet?” he asks in return, his tone shifting the topic away from his memory.

Your eyes widen in surprise, darting down to the plate in front of you. Two lonely nuggets stare back at you, their former coating of sauce now reduced to a glistening sheen.

The sight of the near-empty plate triggers a wave of realization. You had been so caught up in conversation that you hadn't even realized how quickly the food on your plate had vanished, the satisfying sensation of your grumbling stomach barely even registering in your awareness.

Bruce can see the moment realization washes over you. The way your eyes widen, the surprised expression that crosses your features.

He can tell you hadn’t even noticed how quickly you’d finished your food, too caught up in conversation to pay attention to the almost empty plate.

He lets out a small, pleased hum, his eyes flickering across your face for a moment longer before he speaks.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he teases quietly.

You flush, your cheeks burning slightly from embarrassment. It’s embarrassing to think that you’d actually finished all the food on your plate, without even realizing it.

You open your mouth to reply, but Bruce continues.

“One more bite,” he says, his tone almost fatherly, yet firm. His gaze flicks down to the two last nuggets on your plate.

You look down at the food, your stomach feeling full. You don’t think you can eat anymore without feeling nauseous. But the expectant look on Bruce’s face makes it clear this is not a request.

The tone of his voice, the fatherly insistence of his words, leaves no room for argument. The way his eyes flicker expectantly to the two remaining nuggets on your plate tells you that it’s not a request. It’s a demand.

You grimace slightly. The thought of forcing down one more bite of food makes your full stomach churn, the feeling of nausea rising in your gut.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” you protest, your voice almost a petulant whine.

“No, you won’t,” Bruce responds simply. He can see the nausea in your face, the look of discomfort in your eyes. But he’s not backing down from this, not now.

His jaw is set, his gaze unwavering as he locks eyes with you, silently making it clear he won’t accept any arguing.

He leans forward just slightly, his gaze intensifying the slightest bit. “Now eat, Sunshine.”

You want to simultaneously kick his face in and curl up into a small ball of fuzz.

You don’t think that you’ve ever been talked to this way. Not even by the woman who raised you. It’s new.

There’s an authority in his tone, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze. He’s telling you what to do, demanding you finish the food on your plate, expecting you to listen to his every word.

It’s a tone that makes you want to both melt into a puddle and stand your ground and refuse. It’s a tone that makes your gut flip, your heart flutter, the butterflies in your stomach suddenly flying around in an erratic mess. Not in any sexual way, but in a way that makes you long.

“...Sunshine?” you murmur, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Bruce’s lips when he notices your reaction to his tone, the arch of your eyebrow at his nickname. He knows it caught your attention, the way your eyes widened slightly, the way your voice came out as a soft murmur.

“Yeah,” he repeats in a matter-of-fact tone, the hint of a smirk still on his face. “Sunshine.”

His gaze flickered over your expression, taking in every little detail. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was almost preening.

The tone of his voice, the way he said the single word, sends a shiver down your spine. It sounds almost sweet, almost affectionate. The way he glances over you, the way his gaze seems to linger over you, it’s as if he’s claiming you as his.

“That’s a weird nickname..” you say, your voice almost timid. You can’t keep the hint of a flush from your cheeks.

“Why Sunshine?”

His smirk widening at your quiet words. He can see the way your gaze flickers away, avoiding his, the way the flush on your cheeks deepens.

“Why not?” he counters, his tone almost challenging. He takes a moment, his eyes flickering up and down your face.

“You’re a little ray of sunshine, kid,” he says eventually, his voice quieter but almost affectionate.

The rest of the night blurs together in a rapid succession of events that seem to move almost too fast for your brain to register. In a flash, you find yourself stepping out of the luxurious limousine, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the sidewalk.

Bruce’s larger hand still grips your shoulder, his grip both supportive and affectionate. His voice is warm as he bids you farewell, his words echoing in your ears.

"Good night," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "I’ll see you soon."

Had you given the man your address...?

You chalk it up to the wine. Bringing your hand up to wave the black vehicle goodbye before adventuring up the worn down familiar steps that you called home.

As you wave farewell to the retreating car, you find yourself pondering for a moment whether or not you had actually given Bruce the address to your apartment. Perhaps the wine had been to blame.

With a slight shake of your head, you turn away from the departing limousine and begin your familiar ascent up the worn-down steps of the building you called home. The night air is cool and crisp, the glow of the streetlights casting elongated shadows on the concrete paths and cracked walls.

You linger outside the door of your apartment building, your keys clutched in your hand. For a few moments, you simply stand there, the cool night air caressing your skin as you press your forehead against the solid wooden frame.

You can't help but let out a soft sigh, the thought of facing Jason on the other side of that door not very appealing. You're not quite ready to deal with him just yet.

With a deep breath, you finally push yourself away from the door, the cool night air still caressing your face as you turn your attention back to the lock. You insert the key into the keyhole and twist it, the familiar click of the lock sliding open filling the air around you. As you push open the door, you brace yourself for what awaits inside.

As you step into the apartment, you're met with a peculiar sight. The living room is dark, save for a few dim shafts of light filtering in from outside and casting flickering shadows across the furniture. There's a strange stillness to the air, an aura of tension that you can feel even before registering the shape sitting nonchalantly on the couch, illuminated by the silvery moonlight.

Jason's tall form is casually sprawled across the piece of furniture, his body tense and his gaze focused on you with an unwavering intensity.

The moment you step into the living room, your eyes immediately land on Jason's form lounging on the couch. His tall frame is casually sprawled across the furniture, each muscle taut with an obvious tension. His eyes, sharp and dark, fix on you with a penetrative intensity that makes your skin tingle.

He doesn't move or speak, instead choosing to regard you with a quiet, almost unsettling stillness. The silence stretches on, the only sound the soft hush of the night outside and the faint ticking of the clock.

Your lips are caught between your teeth as you approach, your movements tentative and slow. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, his tense expression unwavering as you come closer.

Finally, you stop a few feet away, clutching a small bag in your hands tightly. Without a word, you hold it out in front of him, the rustle of the paper bag breaking the heavy silence.

Jason's eyes flicker to the bag extended towards him, tracking your movements with a guarded wariness. He makes no move to take it, instead regarding you with a suspicious eye.

A beat of tense silence passes before he finally responds, his voice low and gruff. "What's that?"

“An apology for storming out.”

Your response is quiet and deliberate, your voice carrying a hint of remorse. Jason regards you for a moment, his eyes fixated on your face. Finally, he shifts slightly, leaning forward to accept the bag from your hand.

His fingers brush against yours, the touch brief yet sparking a small jolt of electricity up your arm. "An apology, huh?" he responds, his voice a touch gruff but edged with a trace of reluctant understanding.

"It's your favourite," you motion, the words leaving your mouth in a soft whisper.

A small moment of silence passes before Jason responds again, his voice a bit gentler this time. "You didn’t have to," he replies, an unexpected but noticeable shift in his tone.

He regards you for a moment longer, a touch of surprise in his expression, before lifting the bag and peeking inside. At the sight of the familiar, beloved treats, a flicker of warmth sparks across his face. He looks up, meeting your gaze.

"You remembered," he mutters, his voice still gruff but laced with a hint of begrudging gratitude.

You nod your response, your movements weary as you finally collapse onto the couch beside Jason. Your body sinks into the soft cushions, the weariness of the day seeping into your bones.

"Made a stop on my way home," you explain, your voice quiet yet clear in the softly lit living room.

Jason grunts, acknowledging your explanation with a barely perceptible nod. He's still carefully avoiding your gaze, his focus fixed on the bag of treats. He’s not really angry. He never could be. Not with you.

After a moment of silence, he finally speaks, his voice a mix of gruffness and reluctant warmth. “Thanks,” he mumbles, the words a testament to his gratefulness despite his usual tough demeanor.

“Anytime man.”

Jason glances up at your response, his eyes flickering to your face. A brief moment of quiet passes, the sound of the night creatures outside the only background to the silent exchange between you two.

Eventually, he replies, a hint of gruff warmth lacing his words. “Damn right, anytime.”

Jason’s eyes flick up as you let out a small, amused snicker at his words. A small, sardonic grin pulls at his mouth, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"You think that's funny?" he mutters, his voice edged with amusement.

He teases, his voice taking on a more playful edge. "Don't see what's so funny about me saying you can bring home my favourite treats anytime you want."

Your snicker only increases in volume in response to his faux-offended tone, a smile slowly breaking out on your face. Jason's stoic expression cracks just a little at the sight, a reluctant smile pulling at his own mouth. He scoops his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

His large arm hooks easily around your waist, giving a gentle tug that pulls you closer to him. You end up pressed against his side, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. Despite the initial surprise at the sudden movement, you don't resist.

Jason keeps his grip on your waist firm, holding you against him as he shifts a bit to make room for you on the couch. His body is warm and solid beside you, a comforting presence in the dimness of the living room.

He leans back against the couch, his arm still around you as his gaze once again drifts down to the bag of treats in his lap.

"You always know what’ll get me to forgive you, don’t you?" he mutters, his voice low, yet holding a hint of affection.

His fingers idly play with the edges of the bag, the slight rustle of the paper filling the quiet space between you.

“Yep.” You pop the p.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for the reader mentioned, no gender.

Did I drone on about nuggets? Whattttt nooooo… you must have read that wrong.

Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano @sociallyakwardpanda @obsessedwithromance @thickerthanthieves @nckcn @xxrougefangxx

For the Americans, your weird only being able to drink when you’re 21 law doesn’t exist anymore, you’ve joined the rest of the world at 18.

[flamingpudding]

Gala Pals

Danny glared at Vlad who was bosting about him to some other rich guy, Danny knew nothing about. He doesn't keep up with high society stuff. Vlad had dragged him to this Gala against his will, blackmailing him into it, and now he was stuck here. Well, considering the sour look, the kid of the other rich guy sported they were in a similar situation.

Vlad was now going on an on about his new building project he wanted the other guy to finace and Danny was only half listening as he muttered: "One wishes to acquainted your facial features with a fundamental item used in building walls."

There was a pause, and he heard the fruitloops fake laughter before he added: "Repeatedly."

He blames Sam for this. She had been teaching him and Tuck about how to politely tell someone to fuck off because of a meme. Though he did not expect the kid next to him to response.

"I believe the cutlery appropriately sharpened and commonly used for cutting would work better in this case."

Danny stared at the kid that was only a couple years younger. Before mischievous smile spread accros his face when he saw the others smirk. Huh maybe this Gala wouldn't be as boring and tedious after all.

Meanwhile, Bruce did his best to keep his act up as Vlad Masters just wouldn't stop talking to him. He half listened in on his son conversing with Master's Godson. He was happy that his boy was making friends, but the way they talked, he really hoped Alfred had confiscated any blade, Damian could have smuggled into the Gala.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 6!!

July 6th <3

Limb - @jegulus-microfic - words: 826

First part Previous part

Regulus felt his eyes flicker open, the golden morning sunlight cast bright rays on his pale freckled skin and lit up flecks of blue in his dark eyes.

That’s strange, he pondered. He never woke up to the sun on his face, his bed wasn’t in line with it in cabin.

He opened his drowsy tired eyes and let them flick around the room.

First, he spotted an open laptop paused on the ending credits of call me by your name. Next, he noticed a pair of round glasses placed on the nightstand.

He swallowed, turning around hesitantly to see exactly what he was expecting. James Potter was curled up, his tan limbs falling half off the bed while he snored lightly in his sleep.

The older boy was in a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling and his dark brown hair sticking up and falling over his face.

Waking up in an instant, Regulus felt his eyes widen and his heart drop to his stomach.

That is… so embarrassing. He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

Carefully, he went to stand up. That’s when he noticed the blanket that had clearly been draped over him and the way he fell asleep leant against a wall, a pillow behind his head. Blood rushed to his cheeks, flushing his face as he looked down at the sleeping man.

James had his legs tucked under the same blanket and no pillow behind his head.

A smile snuck its way up onto Regulus’ chapped lips, he let it stay there though, no one was there to see it.

Releasing a breath, he lifted the velvety blanket from his lap and softly draped it over James’ surely cold body. He moved the pillow, gently lifting the brunettes head up and being sure not to wake him while he placed the pillow behind his head.

The smile still on his face, he gazed at James’ beauty for a moment. The early morning light landing half on his face and his lips slightly parted tilted upwards.

Slowly grabbing the door handle, it opened with a quiet click before he shut it again.

As soon as he got outside he grinned like an idiot, closing his eyes, shaking his head and walking through the sun dappled forest floor.

-

“Why are you… smiling?” Sirius asked with a sceptical look on his face, sitting down next to Regulus under a tree during the kids lunch break.

Regulus was absentmindedly scrolling his phone, by that it means that he’s stalking James’ instagram account.

He shut his phone quickly, gazing up at his brother and adjusting his face back into his usual. “And nevermind, resting bitch face is back!” Sirius spoke with a fake tone of joy.

“Sod off Sirius.” He grumbled, hiding his phone in his pocket and praying that he didn’t accidentally like any posts in the process.

“What were you smiling at?” His brother teased.

“Your downfall.” Regulus deadpanned, ignoring it when Sirius sat next to him and swatted the back of his head, his black curls falling around his face loosely.

Giving him an unimpressed look, Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes. “How’s the cabin situation going?” His eye visibly twitched.

“Eh.” Regulus tilted his head, purposely not sharing anymore information because he really doesn’t have a clue how he feels about it either.

“Eh?” Sirius mimicked, lifting an eyebrow.

Regulus nodded. “Exactly.” He waved his hands around in the air to prove a point before slouching back up against the tree, staring at the stars sketched into his emerald converse. “How about you?” He changed the topic swiftly.

Sirius’ face lit up, his eyes glowing with adoration and his cheeks the same colour as the maroon of his sweater. “I’m so glad you asked Reggie.” He beamed, Regulus groaned. “We watch movies, we cuddle, we talk-“ He went on and on about it, received multiple snarky comments from his little brother.

Giving a fake gag, Regulus elbowed Sirius. “Okay- Jesus, I get it.”

“What?” Sirius pouted. “Don’t you and James cuddle?” He joked with a loud barking laugh.

Regulus cheeks glowed red, he could feel it, from his shoulders to the tips of his ears. He never blushes, but when he does it’s obvious on his pale skin, and really bad.

He attempted to hide it with a snarl and looked away, Sirius seemed too busy carving something into the tree behind them to even notice. “Don’t be a prick.” Regulus lectured.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you get red and angry.” Sirius cooed, clearly mistaking the blush for anger - in this instance, that was a god send. The older booped his nose, getting a pile of leaves thrown at him in return.

“Take it back.” Regulus glared as he held up a pile of leaves to Sirius’ hair. “I swear to god Sirius-“

“Okay, okay! You’re not cute.” A beat. “You’re ugly-“

A whack in the face. “Fuck!”

Next part

[sturniololoco]

Are you Scared? Pt 2

Colby Brock x Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS)

Warnings: Kissing, ghosts, random shit, etc.

Note: Kinda set from the collab but some events r out of order

SLS's POV

“God damn, which one of you had to take a dump?” Chris asked, laughing while Nick smacked him lightly in the stomach.

Colby smiled at them, laughing like what just happened down the hall didn’t even happen.

I smiled and laughed too, but it was fake. The ache in my chest grew at a steady pace, making me feel slightly sick.

What did I do?

-

That ache was still present as we walked into the room full of old mirrors.

Colby has been ignoring me ever since we left the hallway downstairs.

I walked behind the group as they filmed the inside of the room. My head was down and I was biting on my nails, nervous, trying to figure out where I where wrong.

“SLS/N, come here real quick.” I heard Matt say, pulling me to the left of the door while everyone else walked into the room.

“What’s wrong? And don’t you bullshit me kid, I know you.” He asked, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at him, the ache in my chest moving to my eyes and throat, but I forced it back down.

“I’m good right now, I promise.” I said, hinting him in with the ‘right now’.

“okay, you will tell me later though…?” He said like a question, but I knew it was practically an order.

I nodded, taking his hand from my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"Hey guys, we're about to start-"

I whipped my head around to look at Colby, who was poking his head out the door. But as soon as his eyes met mine, he cut himself off.

I looked down, cheeks red, but that ache in my chest, throat, and eyes was only getting stronger.

Matt and I walked past him into the room, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.

As we entered, Sam was talking to Chris and Nick about the possibility of portals through the mirrors of this room.

I only picked up about half the conversation though, focused on keeping my eyes to the floor in hopes of not meeting Colby's stare.

But his gaze was not breaking.

“O-Oh shit, I think I left my phone by the elevator.” I lie, excusing myself quietly from the room and walking out into tue corridor.

I break as soon as I pass the threshold.

Tears spill over my eyes and onto my cheeks, but I hold the sobs in, making my throat throb.

I get back to where were earlier, by the elevator, and sit down where nobody could see me. I brought my legs to my chest and stared at the wall in front of me.

What the fuck did you do. You always mess these things up.

My thoughts were screaming at me for being so stupid. I still don’t understand what I did but knowing me, it was something.

“SLS/N,”

I whipped around looking at the voice behind me.

Colby.

He walked over to me and kneeled, while I quickly ducked my head to stare at my hands in my lap.

Colby’s POV

This was all my fault.

I treaded her like shit, and now she feels like shit. So do I.

“Oh my gosh! I left the spare light out there!” I lied, quickly running out of the room before Sam could tell me we don’t need it.

After a minute of searching, I find SLS/N sitting in the corner by the elevator, staring blankly at the wall in front of her.

Shit.

I say her name and her head whipped to look at me, tears in her eyes and her cheeks pink.

But this time she wasn’t blushing, she was upset.

Kneeling down, I lift her head up by her chin, using my pointer finger and thumb.

She looks deep into my eyes as I wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” I say.

And apparently that’s all I had to say, because next thing I know, her lips are on mine and her arms are around my neck.

It doesn’t last long though, because she pulls back, saying,

“I’m so sorry-I had no idea what I did and I thought I made you upset and I-“ she started to ramble, fumbling with her fingers behind my head.

She keeps talking so I place my index finger on her lip.

She shut up immediately.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, so stop talking like you do.” I say.

She nods her head and I take my finger off her mouth, kissing her one last time before I stand, saying,

“We better get back before I get in trouble.”

She nods, grabbing my hand to pull herself up, then doesn't let go, which makes my heart flutter.

-

SLS/N's POV

Once filming was over, we said goodbye in the hotel lobby.

My brothers headed out to the car while I lied, saying I had to use the bathroom one last time before returning to our hotel.

Technically, it wasn't a lie since I never got to go earlier.

As I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, I could hear familiar footsteps coming closer.

I smiled as I saw Colby's face appear around the bend.

He wasted no time at all, leaning in and kissing me, grabbing my hops to pull my body closer to his.

"Give me your phone." he breathed into the kiss, reaching for my pocket.

I instantly obeyed, pulling my phone out and unlocking it, before handing it to him.

He fiddled with it for a few seconds before handing it back. He then shot me a corny wink before turning to walk into the men's bathroom.

-

It was late by the time we got into the hotel, and I wasn't able to check my phone till after I showered and was tucked into bed next to Nick.

The first notification I saw made me smile at my screen,

Colby:

Ft me when your brothers are asleep ;)

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

Guys, I'm actually so mad that I had to rewrite this! Thanks a lot, Tumblr for deleting ALL my shit!!!

[odxrilove]

☆ SEVENTEEN AS PEOPLE AT SCHOOL

genre: highschool!au/uni!au

warnings: none

a/n: is this my official tumblr comeback ?? 😮

back to masterlist!

☆ SEUNGCHEOL

the leader of the “jocks”. he's the guy you see walking around school with his varsity jacket on– even if it’s in the middle of the summer. he’s the literal definition of the hallway crush, whispers and giggles being a regular thing he hears when he walks through the school hallways, hand swiping through his pretty hair. he often sits on the wooden tables outside instead of the benches whenever he and his friends have their little weekly hangout-meeting. always has a lollipop in his mouth and says it’s for the girls but really, he just likes sweets.

☆ JEONGHAN

the king of debates. if you sign up for debate class, don’t think you’re ever going to win if you’re up against jeonghan. he’s the reason why so many people left debate class mid year but the teacher is so impressed by him that she can’t force herself to kick him out. he’s also widely known for being the mastermind behind his high school’s senior prank. besides his maniac pranks and his broad knowledge of law, he’s actually pretty fun to be around and some girls who have had the pleasure to go on dates with him describe him as an angel– even after getting ghosted.

☆ JOSHUA

the class president. he’s a close friend of jeonghan and thus, winning the class pres’ election was easy peasy. he only presented himself as a joke but started taking it seriously 7 months in when the school planned to cancel the annual pajama day. he acts normal but he’s truly just as insane as his large group of friends. the grumpy math teacher is his next door neighbor and he once gave her leftover cookies and since then, he’s been her favorite student– and the only student she smiles at.

☆ JUN

the cat defender. falls easily asleep in class and is often woken up by his classmates after the bell rang. someone once drew a cat on a wall in the gym hall with a marker a few years back and when jun transferred to the school, his name mysteriously appeared under the cat drawing. in his second year, he got detention for a whole month after bringing a kitten to school and hiding it in his bag every day for two weeks straight– he was only caught because the cat meowed during a test and none of his classmates wanted to fake meow to help the poor guy out.

☆ HOSHI

the school’s dance machine. when the school speakers play music, you’ll always find him bobbing his head to the beat. he gets his notebook confiscated weekly because he prefers to write down possible dance movements and new choreography ideas than math equations and english vocabulary. he has a pretty big following on social media after a video of him freestyling at the school’s talent show blew up. he now uses his popularity to freely make dance covers at school, students avoiding him in the hallways when he’s swinging his legs and arms around.

☆ WONWOO

the school library’s only visitor. ok, maybe that’s a bit exaggerated but he’s definitely the only one going there willingly! the library stinks and there’s no wifi, plus some rumors are going around saying that the room at the back the of the library is the go-to place to fuck, and lastly, the librarian is a bitch– except towards wonwoo, of course. besides him being the librarian’s favorite, he once got asked to prom by a senior when he was a junior and every two months or so, someone brings it up and everyone goes crazy over it again. to be honest, if he wasn't so focused on his video games and books he would see how many people stare at him with heart eyes.

☆ WOOZI

the normal kid. what else can i say, he's just a regular guy. he goes to school wearing his silly baggy outfits and doesn't leave the house without his headphones on. he meets up with his friends and has lunch with them. he isn’t quiet but he isn’t talkative either, only partaking in his friends’ silly little conversations when he deems necessary. he gets normal grades and enjoys his silly music class the most. he’s on the school’s swimming team and won a few silly prizes during competitions. he’s been the subject of affection from a few girls since the start of school and he’s been on a date once. really, he’s just a silly little guy living his silly little life– what’s there to hate?

☆ SEOKMIN

the theatre kid. you either hate him or love him, there’s no in between– fortunately, no one really hates seokmin. he’s a loud student, his laugh often resonating through the entire cafeteria. he’s always been part of the cast for the school musicals, landing the lead role in his first year, something that had never ever happened before. the only kisses he’s had were during rehearsals or actual performances but he knows he has a large group of fans so nobody can really tease him for it. one of the school’s old students still has one-sided beef with him because seokmin ‘stole’ his role.

☆ MINGYU

the popular kid. he’s part of every club on campus, and has a hard time juggling football practice with the weekly sessions of the photography club. in his second year he decided he wanted to be an architect and since then he always complains about the school’s awful floor plan. people in the art club always go to him when they need a model because he has the Looks and actually knows how to pose. he’s actually very fun and the epitome of your rich friendly student who deserves to be crowned prom king. he’s known around school for mowing the lawns of his neighbors for free, shirtless.

☆ MINGHAO

the fashion police. there’s no better way to define minghao, as his judgmental faces have become an obsession for people on campus. he loves clothes and the fact he’s hoarding a drawer in his roommate’s closet further proves it. there's’ not one day that goes by where minghao doesn’t eat with his outfit, nails painted and sunglasses on his head– even in the winter. if you have to dress up for something, going to minghao’s dorm for help is the best solution. he’s rather honest, not hiding his disgust or love for people’s outfits. he was actually voted prom king (mingyu ending second) and was happy the crown fit the aesthetic of his suit. besides being an absolute bitch when it comes to clothing, his soft laugh does ease people’s nerves more often than not.

☆ SEUNGKWAN

the gossiper. or in better words, the head of the journalism club who’s in charge of the weekly school newspaper and news forum on the school’s official website. seungkwan is, with no doubt, respected by all. truthfully, he’s a good student, so teachers often let him write in his journal for new articles during class. there’s one unofficial rule though– you have secrets? do not share them with him. you can, however, ask him about other people’s business, and as long as you give him something in return, he’s glad to talk your ears off. you’re safe if you’re his friend though, because there isn’t someone as loyal as seungkwan walking down the school hallways.

☆ VERNON

the skater enthusiast. he always walks around wearing big weird hoodies, holding onto his skate and if it's one of those days, a beanie and some funky shoes complete the outfit. his skate is like an extension of his hand but does he know how to skate though? absolutely not. his friends now have multiple bandaid and first aid kits in their lockers because vernon never bothers to buy any but spends most of his lunch breaks trying to learn new tricks– and subsequently failing. he’s a sweet kid but a bit of an airhead, often bumping into people and staring at the people talking at him until he realizes the reason he couldn’t hear them was because he still had his headphones on.

☆ DINO

the school’s unofficial cheerleader’s cheerleader. it was truly a tragic day when the cheerleading squad’s manager got fired for fraud– not because of the money (duh) but because of the now lost cheerleaders. dino used to do gymnastics when he was young so in his eyes, he was their last hope. he was a god at planning cheerleading practices and events and in less than a year, the squad managed to win back their spot as number one during the cheerleading season. the school’s reputation was restored and suddenly all the teachers loved him. dying his hair blonde during a celebration party was the last straw for many– his locker would be full of confession letters the weeks following.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @viscade @amxlia-stars

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[druidwolf21]

Part of first impressions

Find part 1 here

Sanguinius/f reader

As with the others, there are 2 endings and smut waaaaay at the bottom!

Sorry it took so long, my brain has been melted!

For a list of my other stories, check out here

Taglist: @beckyninja @lemon-russ @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @moodymisty

There's a little character Easter egg in here, an OC belonging to @jaghatai-khock, go check them out they're awesome!

You wrapped a slender finger through the soft fabric of your dress and lifted, ghosting the hem along your ankle as you avoided stepping on the material, your steps hurried as you rushed towards the varnished door. The rolled velvet of the carpet shifted beneath your feet as you danced between bodies, trying desperately to reach your exit, but the heaving mass of suits and dresses pressed you back toward the center. The cologne and perfume rolled over you like a wave, filling your nose with a cloud of fake florals and synthetic smoke.

You backed away from the sudden assault as your eyes watered and leant against a table for support, your head swimming and pulsing with nausea. You ran a hand across your brow as bile rose in your throat. Kneading your brow, you were brought back to your thoughts when you felt the table bump and shift slightly.

You frowned slightly and pulled your hand away from your forehead, cocking your head as the table jumped slightly again. Looking around, you gently sunk into a squat, pulled your knees up to your chest and lifting the edge of the linen cloth.

Bright eyes Vermillion red looked back at you from beneath long fluttering lashes as you peered underneath. A small round face framed with spiraled locks of caramel twitched in confusion at you. you stared, mouth slightly agape as it shuffled where it sat, revealing a pair of small downy wings, white as fresh snow and fluffed in delight as it kicked it's small feet up and down.

Was this a cherub? no, a child?

The little creature under the table giggled, dimples creasing it's rosey cheeks as itraised its fists up, displaying small fingers greased in cake icing and syrup. Laughing, it smeared the mess across its face, giggling in delight as it licked sugar from its palms and spread the mess down the front of his scarlet tunic. You smiled slightly and shook your head, letting the tablecloth fall back to the floor and raised yourself to your feet again.

"I have definitely had too much to drink if I think I'm seeing kids here"

Brushing your hands over the front of your dress to smooth the pearl fabric, you looked about the glittering ball room. The candelabras and chandeliers flickered warm light over the opulent gathering and glittered off the golden threads in the banners gently waving across the walls. You cast a cursory glance around, searching for the source of the breeze until your eyes alighted on an open balcony door, cracked open a fraction to allow the scent of fresh rain to snake it's way through the aroma of wine and body heat.

You sighed in relief and strode across the marble floor, head held high and eyes set straight you walked with purpose to avoid unwanted conversation. This approach seemed to work better than skulking through the crowd as you finally managed to break from the drone of voices and slipped through the glass frame and clicked it shut softly behind you.

The air was fresh and cold against your skin, sending goose bumps across your arms and flushing your cheeks against the chill night air. You breathed deep and felt the stress begin to melt from your frame, the sound of the party now slightly muted through the closed metal and perspex. Leaning on the ornate balustrade and tracing a finger over the carves swirles and whorls of the carved stone, you looked out over the city below, scowling wistfully at the twinkling lights and faint echos carried up on the evening wind. You closed your eyes and tilted your head upwards, relishing the soft drip of gentle rain on your chilled skin.

Laughter

The click of the door.

Someone was coming out.

Whipping your head around at the noise you panicked and searched for an escape, finding a trellis wrapped in ivy and climbing wisteria clinging to the wall. Without a second thought you gripped the wood and threw yourself up the crosshatched pine, feeling dew and vines coating your skin like a blanket as you hastily climbed upwards. The laughter and hushed voices from the couple now entangled together on the balcony drew your eyes down and you felt acid boiling in your throat.

That was a long way down.

Eyes squeezed shut to blink way tears, your ripped your gaze from the abyss of black below you and resumed your climb. The faint reflective light of the roof agonizingly close and yet impossibly far. Reaching out a hand, you craned upwards, stretching your fingers to clasp at the cold tiles just inches ahead.

You felt the wood snap before you heard it.

A scream caught in your throat, stolen by the wind as you felt the flimsy wood finally surrender to your unfamiliar weight. Time froze for a moment as you felt backwards, hand still outstretched towards the guttering as gravity claimed you for its own. Desperate clenching of your fist into nothingness did nothing to persuade the darkness below you to relinquish you as the wind tore through your hair, ripping the golden pin from your locks and freeing your treses to the cyclone of screaming air around you.

Your fall halted as abruptly as it began, jolted upward suddenly you felt warmth spreading through your body as your face and chest suddenly pressed into a firm soft texture. You felt weight on your back and slowly pulled back from the mass before you.

Hunched over to hide himself, Sanguinius watched from the roof as the woman stepped out onto the balcony and leant over the edge, admiring the way the ghostly fabric clung to her skin in the soft rain. He found himself bemused at her panic when the door slowly creaked open and laughed as he watched her launch onto the wall in a desperate attempt to escape any attention, listening to her mutter as she heaved herself up.

When he saw her fall he had reached out and caught her, pulling her close to him instinctively. He felt his muscles tense and his wings bristle as your body collided with his. His nose was filled with the scent of fear emanating from you, but underneath he could smell the scent of flowers and fresh grass, parchment and warm spices.

As the woman pulled away from him he looked into her eyes, still dilated with fear as she slowly realized what was going on.

"a fall like that will not end well without wings, my lady"

You lost yourself in the moment as the primark looked down at you with a gentle smile. The moonlight cast gentle light across his golden hair as it fell about his face, framing his handsome features. The crimson hue of his garments reflecting warm shadows into your pale skin.

His palm slid from your back and he took your hand in his own as he helped you to a flatter portion of the rooftop.

"what's life without a little risk, my lord" you replied, shaking yourself from your reverie and tearing your eyes away from his face as you stepped gingerly over the slick ceramic until you found a spot that felt level.

A chuckle escaped from him as his grin widened and his fingers twitched around your hand before releasing you from his grip.

"That desperate to escape high society, little sparrow?"

You blushed, embarrassment deepening the red hue across your cheeks as you realized you'd been found out. His golden eyes twinkled in amusement as you eventually shrugged, accepting you'd been caught.

"A boring event, as with everything else that happens here. But my lord if I might, I'm not the only one hiding out in the rain"

He laughed deep and sonorous and you felt a flutter in your stomach as he flashed you a brilliant smile. You found yourself hungrily trailing your eyes over his scarlet clad body as he swept a hand through his hair, slicking it back with the rain.

"alas, you were not the only one to find the evenings events lacking, my lady"

He lowered himself down next to you, taking a seat on the cool patchwork of tiling and gesturing for you to join him.

"so tell me, little bird, what brings a lady of the court to these lofty heights"

Perching yourself safely next to him and stretching out your legs, you surveyed the patchwork of lights and distant engine jets that stretched into the darkness of the evening. The low hum of activity faint as the world kept turning as you sat and watched.

"wishful thinking, I suppose" you sighed

Sanguinius studied your face as you scanned the horizon, a wistful look in your eyes as you watched a distant thunder hawk roar into life and skim through the gathering clouds, the amber glow of its engines igniting the sky briefly with a clap of burnt colour. The flash of bright light lit your face for a split second, and he enjoyed the way your cheeks dimpled as a smile crept into your lips.

You looked over at him, holding his gaze steadily. No fear or reverence in your eyes, just curiosity. Not looking at his as a God or an angel. Just a man.

It was intoxicating.

He nodded, encouraging you to talk as he lent back and listened. He enjoyed the way your voice lifted as you spoke about the events that landed you at the oarty and he laughed with you as you both shared in the discomfort of social events.

He found himself sharing tales of bhaal secundus and reveling in the way your eyes lit up when he told you about leading the astartes from the helm of the red tear.

You lost track of time and yourself as you sat and talked with the angel beside you. Your eyes grew wide as he regaled you with tales of battle and foreign worlds and, whilst a lot more mundane, he seems to appreciate your stories of teenage rebellion and tearing through the manor to avoid a scolding.

"I would expect nothing less of you at this point " he snorted as you finished telling him about the ill-fated turn of events that befell you when you attempted to race your father's new kreig warhorses around the grounds.

"Never have I met one as wild as you, save perhaps my brother, but that is another story"

Streaks of burnished bronze began to creep across the horizon and the rain began to fall in earnest as you sat. Briefly turning his eyes to the sky, sanguinius raised an immense wing over your head and gestured for you to take cover. You stared at the limb, his wings lucent and ethereal as he raised it over you gently.

When you didn't react he coughed slightly, pursing his lips and narrowing his pupils.

"your dress, my lady"

Mortified you looked down, finding the fabric slicking to your body and revealing the pink of chilled skin through the now translucent silk after hours of windswept droplets had settled into the thin threading.

You clutched your hands to your chest and squeaked.

"oh throne I didn't realize, the rain must've... Oh damn it"

The angel coughed again, pausing and bringing his hand to his mouth before he spoke.

"We should find you a change of clothes, before straying eyes find you." He rose to his feet in one graceful movement and blinked at you slowly.

"In fact, there are plenty enough robes aboard the red tear" he reached out a callused hand to help you to your feet as the question hung in the air.

Go with sanguinius.

You stared up at the man above you, the soft light of dawn gently playing through his hair and the pinions of his wings casting his figure in a resplendent halo of burnished light.

"The... Red tear?"

He nodded down at you, eyes searching your intently as he waited.

You sat frozen for a moment, your brain turning over itself as you comprehended what had just been said.

A place on the primark's ship, a chance to escape the gilded cage you find yourself trapped in. No more ridiculous rules, no false smiles ,no fake pageantry. The chance to finally shake off the weight of expectations.

You felt your breath catch in your chest and your heart thrummed in your chest. It would be dangerous, no doubt, you might not make it home. But then again, this hasn't felt like home for a while now.

"the choice is yours, of course. But I can guarantee you wouldn't be climbing manor walls to escape boredom if you joined me"

You chuckled and took his hand, gasping slightly as he hauled you to your feet like you were nothing. Although thinking about it, you probably DID weigh nothing to him.

"I'll hold you to that, my lord, but if I do, I expect you to catch me again"

The blonde smile grew into a toothy grin and he pulled you towards him, pressing your vulnerable figure into his bulk. Your heart pounded as you breathed in his warm comfortable scent, like sunlight and warm grass. Your heart rate increased further as he clutched you to him and took a step towards the edge, muscles flexing and stretching as his wingspan stretched its their full extent.

"we'd best get back to the ship, don't worry I can get us there quickly"

"you've got to be joking"

Refuse sanguinius

You eyed the broad figure above you as his hand hovered just within reach. You trailed your eyes up his arm to his face, meeting his intense gaze and holding it for a moment.

"you want me to go with you?"

He nodded in response, his jaw tight as he waited for your decision. You blinked a few times, assessing his motivation as you searched his face for anything. After a moment you sighed and gently took his hand, allowing him to guide you to his feet.

"my lord, I am flattered, but the red tear is no place for me, as I'm sure you already suspect. I am no astartes, nor a remembrancer. I would be confined to the ship as I am confined here."

He continued to stare at you for a moment, eyes grazing over your face until he nodded and withdrew from you, releasing your hand. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his wings, the primary feathers tensing and flicking water off in a shower of iridescent spray.

"A shame to be sure, but I will not contest your decision, that is your right"

He turned his back to you, stretching out to his full height before casting a glance over his shoulder.

"I will escort you back to your room"

You nodded sadly, hair hiding the welling tears in your eyes as you slid over the roof to join the man's side.

"thank you, for this evening my lord"

He looked down at you, a disappointed frown creasing his forehead as he tipped his chin at you.

"of course my lady, the pleasure was mine"

🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

Smut below!

An alt ending to going with sanguinius.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

"your dress, my lady"

You looked down and sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The soft fabric of your dress clung to your body like a second skin, your pebbled skin clearly visible through the rain soaked silk.

You swept your arms across your chest, covering your perked nipples as a growing heat spread up your neck and across your face.

"my lord I am so sorry, I didn't realize I.." You stuttered as you realized more and more of your skin was flushing through the gossamer textile. You raised your brow tentatively as you stammered your apology and found the words frozen in your tongue.

Sanguinius' cheeks were hued soft pink and his eyes dark as he looked down at you. his pupils dilated and flicked his stare to your face before jerking away when he caught your eye.

"my lord?"

His head was pointedly turned from you, but you could see his chest rising and falling as his breath hitched. You reached out a cold finger and, after hesitating for a moment, ran a finger along the back of his hand. He jerked at the touch, twisting his head round and watching your hand dance along his wrist, he trailed his sight up your arm, along your shoulder, swallowing as he ripped his stare from your chest to your face. He leaned over, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath tickle your face.

Thump, thump, thump.

You heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. In fact you knew he could.

Shaking his head slightly he began to pull back from you.

"forgive me, I don't know what"

You interrupted him with a chaste kiss, tracing the line of his angled jaw with your thumb. He held back for a moment before returning the touch, his own hand finding the small of your back and his wing sweeping from over your head to behind you, pulling you close to him. Moaning into him as you felt his tongue run across your lips, you threaded your palms into his hair as you melted into his kiss. The blonde pulled from the kiss and you whined as the taste of him left your lips.

Sanguinius lost himself in your touch as he felt your fingers run through his hair, the taste of wine and heat from you was intoxicating as he licked along your bottom lip, blood rising in him as you moaned, his hands pawing hungrily at you. He wretched himself away and breathed, pushing the hunger he felt down as you teased his scalp. He searched your face for anything telling him to stop, something to force an ounce of self control into him.

But when you reached back for him, your lips tracing his jaw and trailing down his neck, all thoughts of sensibility flew out of his head. He reached out and pulled you onto his lap, a great hand tugging at your hair as his tongue lapped at your throat, nipping and sucking at your jugular until blood trickled and a bruise bloomed across your tender skin, your soft moans feeding his hunger as his hands found your ass and squeezed.

You squeaked as you felt him palming your ass and you ground yourself into his pelvis, feeling his hard cocks pressing against the fabric of his trousers, earning you a hiss and a sharp nip to your neck. His tongue trailed down to your collar bone and you pressed your chest up to meet his eager lips. The hand from your back ripped at the dress knot and sanguinius mouth latches to a nipple as the dress fell away, his tongue tracing hot circles on your sensitive flesh.

"please" you whimpered, kissing the crown of his head.

He raised his amber eyes, almost glowing in the moonlight as he smirked at you.

"such a song bird, piping your sweet voice at me"

He moved his hand from your rear, sliding it down gently between your thighs, a callused thumb brushing gently against your clit, circling the nub gently, teasing as his index finger slowly slid towards your drenched core. Hips rocking into his hand, you hiccupped as he finally slid a finger inside you and dug your hands into the soft cotton of his tunic, feeling the muscle twitch under your touch.

He hummed into your chest, releasing your overworked nipple with a wet pop. He moved his lips to your ears as you shuddered under his touch. "Such a needy little thing" he breathed, enjoying how you were walls clamped around his finger at his words.

You could feel yourself being pulled so close, rocking back and forth in his palm as he worked his fingers into you. Suddenly his withdrew and you whined, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself tripping away from the edge. His hand slid from your thigh and fumbled with his bottoms, pulling his throbbing member free from the drenched fabric.

Reaching for it, you slowly stroked his dick, sliding the precum from the tip up and down his shaft as you pumped. You looked up when you heard him gasp gently and a mischievous smile crept across your face as you slid your hand up and down, teasing his tip with your thumb every so often.

"it's not nice being teased, is it" you smirked edging him closer before slowing down again. You felt his hips buck against you and you slid forward, your hand flew up and pressed against his broad chest for balance and you shuddered, suddenly feeling his dick pressed against your wet folds.

Your eyes met and you nodded, sliding yourself against him to coax him to take you.

His large hands found the soft flesh of your hips as he lifted you slightly before lowering you onto him, you clutched around his neck, whimpering as you felt him stretch you out, inch by inch sliding in.

"so good, song bird, you're doing so well" he cooed into your ear as he kneaded your flesh "so tight for your primark"

He grunted as you twitched and tightened around him at his praise, muscles spasming as he finally bottomed out inside you. Your chest heaved at the exertion as you relaxed into the sensation of how full you were, burying your head into his shoulder you began to move , grinding your ass down against his pelvis before beginning to slowly bounce on him.

His hands guided your waist and kept you balanced as you rode him, crying his name like a prayer with each motion, you slid up and down his shaft. You felt his chest vibrate and he groaned, hands tightening on your hips as he rutted into you and you threw your head back as you came, seeing stars both literally and figuratively as you stared at the night sky gasping as shivers wracked your whole body.

"San.. sanguinius" you croaked, voice harshed from overuse. You trailed your hand from around his neck to the top of his back, running along the lines of muscles to the base of his wings and twisted your fingers into the soft white down, earning you a soft groan from the angel below you.

You could feel him getting close as he continued to grasp you, using his giant hands to manhandle and bounce you on him erratically.

"my lord, my angel" you chirped softly to him, huffing as each thrust of his rigid cock bullied your insides "I need it so bad, sanguinius"

You felt him thrust deep inside as he finished, his teeth finding your shoulder and biting down hard, hot tongue lapped the blood from the bite wound as he spilled inside you. You twitched and shuddered under his touch, the pain from his hungrily mouth and the pleasure of him buried inside you melting your brain to a hot mess. You remained unmoving , slumped against his chest with your arms hanging uselessly over his shoulders as you tried to piece your mind back together.

Blissfully warm and glowing, wrapping in muscular arms and shielded from the still pounding rain by his canopy of feathers you found yourself unwilling to move, even as his cum dripped from your abused cunt.

"you should come with me"

"hmmm?" You mumbled in response, burying your face into his soft hair as it fell around your face.

"I want you to come with me" he shifted slightly as he spoke, pulling you away from his body and turning to look at you. You grimaced at the sudden lack of body heat before it clicked what he'd asked.

"you... Want me to come with you?"

He nodded, stroking your slick hair back from your face. "I do"

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment before shrugging

"I suppose it's the polite thing to do after.." you gestured at yourselves, still intertwined "this"

A bright smile spread across his gorgeous features and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he kissed your forehead.

"a fine choice, my lady"

[1d1195]

Faking It

Sometimes while I'm listening to music, things just pop into my head about Harry and I have to write it out real fast before I forget. This is just a little random blurb that I’m posting for no reason.

best friend/roommate!reader x famous!Harry

Warnings: sexual tension, sexual wording

Not proofread (written in my drafts on my phone)

Harry is watching her dance her little heart out to whatever is playing in her ears while she aggressively folds the sheets and towels out of the dryer. He can hear the music playing from where he's standing in the kitchen getting a glass of water. They've been best friends for years and since Harry is often on tour, it's nice to have someone keep an eye on his place, water the flowers, and just...be there when he gets home or shoots home during one of his quick breaks.

She's funny and lovely. One of his favorite people. She doesn't mind acting silly around him and doesn't care if he never cleans up when he's home. "I just like when my best friend is here," she says.

"What are y'even listening to?" She turns down the music so she can hear him.

"It's called Little White Lies, it's by this great band. M'sure you've heard of them: One Direction?" She has the most impish smile on her lips.

He stares at her and blinks slowly. He hates when she does this. It's so annoying. But he finds her adorable anyway. It's been a while since he's been home and he likes seeing her in her element. As if he weren't here. He likes that she's comfortable with him. It feels...like home.

But then, since she's his best friend, she has to go and ruin it.

She shrugs. "Y'know, Harry. Bet you would get a nice girlfriend if they knew they didn't have to fake orgasms around you all the time," she winked at him pushing the laundry basket toward the hallway to the bedrooms before she starts in on the second load of clothing.

He doesn't want to know. If he asks, he'll regret it. "What are y'on 'bout?" He tilted his head back. It was one of those conversations he knew he was going to be exhausted by before it even started.

"When she's alone she goes home to a cactus. In a black dress, she's such an actress?" She quoted his own lyrics to him but phrased it as a question. "Such an actress?" She repeated. "Too bad Harry," she tisks. "You even gotta talk about a dildo being a cactus...like one of the rabbit ones,” she giggled.

Harry wonders if he strangles her if they'll question him first. He's a popstar after all. "M'gonna kill you," he says darting toward her around the half kitchen wall to tickle her. She squeals and takes off to the other side of the room, hiding behind the couch.

"Cause you've been telling me, all night with your little white lies."

"Nobody fakes orgasms with me," he grumbled. "Liam and Louis wrote that song."

She smirked. "Sensitive. I don't mean anything by it," she giggles. "Just think it's funny."

"I'll prove it," he says hopping on the couch and reaching over to grab her before she can escape. She squeals at his aggressive hold as he tosses her down (gently) onto the sofa. "Take y'pants off," he orders.

"Harry," she gasps, face blushing. The headphones fall from her ears, her phone drops to the floor.

"Take 'em off," he repeats. "You'll see."

"Harry," she whispers breathlessly. "I was just kidding."

But his eyes are hungry now. He's looking her over if he's just noticing that she's a girl. A beautiful, adorable, pain-in-the-butt, girl. His best friend that he adores with all his heart. "M'not," his voice is low. Her heart hammers erratically against her ribs.

She can't say she hasn't been dreaming of this. She wants this. She doesn't believe she'll have to fake it. But she doesn't want to force him to do it to prove a point. "Harry," she tries again, but her voice is weak. The protest is faint in her voice. "You don't have--"

"Bet y'have t'fake it all the time, hmm?" He's hovering above her. His legs straddling her hips, his arms pinning her shoulders down. She can't move her gaze from his. She's immobile. He drops his mouth to her ear. "Don't you?" He murmurs so lowly it vibrates all through her body. Right to the space between her thighs. “Bet y'dream about me when m'not here. When you're with someone else,” his lips brush the pulse along the side of her neck. He kisses the space at the bottom of her throat. "I dream about you when m’alone,” her brain is spinning to keep up. She was just joking him. He was too brave to admit that. She’s terrified she’s going to mess up. But he’s inhaling her skin like he’s sniffing out a weakness. Her whole body is one weak spot for him. “S'that why y'like it so much?" He mumbles. "S'that why y'like m'song. Because you're an actress for everyone else? You're not gonna be an actress for me, right? You're gonna be a good girl and not tell me any little white lies?" He asks it as a question, but she knows it's a statement.

"Harry," it was her last chance to protest.

“No, love. M’sure,” he promise sensing the question in just the way she uttered his name. Maybe the benefit to being her best friend he knew what she was thinking. Always. “Jus’ say the word, love,” his lips are a breath away. If she inhales too deeply or exhales at all she’ll be kissing Harry Styles. “Do y’want me t’prove it?”

His eyes are so green his skin smells so good. She can’t breathe or move.

“Yes.”

[x0llaz]

Ten Things I Hate About you

Jung Sungchan

Chapter 1) first impressions

WC~300

Masterlist. Next.

It was Sohee’s first day at his new school, he had spent his morning talking to counselors, teachers, and the principal. He was finally assigned a buddy to show him around for the rest of the day. He walked into the hallway and saw a taller boy waiting across the hall.

“Sohee?” The other guy called.

“That’s me,” Sohee said meekly.

“Great,” the taller approached. “I’m seunghan, I’ll be showing you around.

Sohee was used to the routine, get paired with a buddy who felt pressured to sticking with him until he switched schools again. Make in-genuine friendships that could last just until he was on the road.

But as he walked with seunghan, who took time to not only show him around, but made an effort to fill him in on anything he should know, he felt more at ease. It felt like seunghan was having more of a genuine conversation- though it was mostly one sided.

“Ready for the fun part?” Seunghan asked with a smirk.

“What’s that?”

“The cliques,” Seunghan gestured to the courtyard full of diverse groups of friends. “We have your usual preppies, jocks, nerds,” he lazily directed Sohee’s attention across the area. “But we also got theater kids, IB candidates, and plenty of other genres of douchebags,”

“Riveting,” sohee sighed. It was going to be a long year.

“Tell me about it,” seunghan laughed to himself. “There’s a rumor that the band kids suck each other’s dicks at contest,” seunghan cracked a bright smile that made sohee laugh in shock.

“How would you know that?” He asked.

“Word gets around,” The older shrugged. “Anyways, we can go-“

“Holy shit!” Sohee interrupted as his eyes caught on someone’s figure.

She was slim, with long hair, a pretty outfit, and big eyes that made his heart pound. “Who’s she?” Sohee asked breathlessly.

“Her? That’s Yuna,” Seunghan sighed. “Take a good look, that’s as far as you’ll ever get,”

“What group is she in?” Sohee finally turned his gaze away.

“She’s not just in the group, she is the group. They all revolve around her. She’s the queen bee in her class, even upperclassmen know about her,” seunghan explained in admiration. “But shes kinda off limits so,”

“What? Why?” Sohee furrowed his brows.

“Her dad’s a real nut job about dating and stuff. He hates the existence of teen pregnancy,” seunghan told the younger.

Sohee just frowned. “Okay… what about… that guy,” he gestured to the group of guys by the wall. The guys were all huddled around each other, checking out girls as they passed by.

“That’s jeno and his little dream team,” seunghan mocked. “Ridiculously handsome, but there’s nothing going on in their heads,”

“Huh,” sohee shifted his gaze to a girl who was sitting at a table by herself, earbuds plugged in, drawing on a sketch pad. “What about her?”

Seunghan looked over at her. “Oh man, don’t,” he shook his head. “That’s YN, Yuna’s older sister,” they watched as she continued drawing. “She’s a nice girl deep down, but man can she be a bitch,” they watched as some of her friends joined her. “Her friends are the only people she talks to, other than Yuna, or Jeno when she wants to rip him a new one,”

“Sounds intense,” Sohee felt tense as he heard about her.

“Yeah, but she’s nice when you get her talking,” seunghan said, when a group of guys passed by them. Sohee noticed how other students looked up to stare.

“Them?”

“They don’t have a name. They’re just kind of insane.“ seunghan faked a shiver and sohee huffed out a breath. It was going to be a long year.

First chapter is kinda just a silly little intro! Next chapter will be a full smau and we’ll get into more stuff >:)

Taglist: @allyoops , @snowyseungs , @seobstarr , @hollxe1 , @Mmmewxgthn, @haeeeeefer , @dinosluver , @sseastar-main , @st4rryhae , @m1ng1swife , @hisrkive , @user7520, @nattys-girl , @papichulomacy , @so-lychee , @nicholasluvbot, @onebnis,

[mads-nixon]

Night Changes

Lewis Nixon x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: thanks to @footprintsinthesxnd for inspiring me to finally finish this wip from back in october!! for once, this isn't a heart-wrenching fic that makes you cry your eyes out...it's super fluffy!! Hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: morning sickness & pregnancy, nothing else except for tooth-rotting fluff :)

Nixon, New Jersey: April 1950

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?"

"What?" (Y/n) sighed, glancing towards her husband from where she sat on the floor.

A chuckle left Lewis' lips as he gestured to the various paint colors on portions of the wall. "Which one? Pink, purple, blue, or yellow?"

Rolling over to her side, (y/n) attempted to get up. With her swollen stomach, it made everything ten times harder than usual.

Lew rushed to her side, "Honey, let me help you."

"I've got it," she grunted, somewhat out of breath.

(Y/n) tried and failed a few times, then let out a huff of air, sighing as she held out her hands for Lew to come and help her up.

He smiled softly, moving to help lift her. "I thought you had it that time."

"Your child has been making things harder on me, lately."

Once they stood up, Lew pulled her close, his hand on her bump. "My child? I'm pretty sure we both made this baby."

(Y/n) pulled back with a look of disgust, fake gagging. "Please don't remind me."

With his signature grin, he pulled her back in, trying to plant a kiss on her lips. "No," she laughed, leaning away to evade his kisses. "We've got to pick out the color for the nursery, Lew!"

"So now you want to get on task, huh?"

(Y/n) giggled as she continued to swerve her husband's kisses. "Yes! We have to get this done!"

"Alright," he conceded. "Just one kiss. Please?"

With an exaggerated eye roll, (y/n) leaned in and pecked his lips quickly. "Come on, doll. One more," he pleaded.

"Nope. You'll get more once we get done picking out the color."

He led her to the wall with the colors and mock saluted her. "Alright, then. Captain Nixon is focused on his next objective."

They had decided to go with the soft yellow because it was more gender-neutral, even though both felt deep down that it was a girl. Staring at their halfway-finished nursery, (y/n) couldn't help but think back to when it all started the year before.

Indianapolis, Indiana: July 1949

The Nixons sat at the Easy Company reunion with Lip, Dick, and their respective spouses. While the guys all talked, (y/n) spoke with Ethel Winters and JoAnne Lipton about everything from baking to babies. Ethel and Dick had been married for a little over a year and were about to start trying for children. JoAnne and Carwood already had a son, so she told the two women how wonderful it was to be a mom. Hard, but wonderful.

The woman pulled out a picture of the three of them with a proud smile on her face. "Danny turns three next month. He's a spitting image of Car, that's for sure. I love him more than anything in this world."

Looking over at her husband enthralled in a conversation with his best friends, she couldn't help but imagine Lew as a father; holding their little baby in his arms or putting them up on his shoulders. (Y/n) knew he didn't have a good relationship with his father and would do everything to be there for their future children.

She was broken out of her trance by Lew's hand squeezing her thigh gently. "You alright, sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

Eyed widening, she went to wipe the tear that streaked down her cheek, but he beat her to it. "What's wrong?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

"Let's have a baby."

Lewis was taken aback by his wife's bluntness. Sure, they had talked about having kids but had decided to wait a few more years. Hearing that she changed her mind filled his with the same sweet images that appeared in hers moments before. If he was being honest, he had felt ready for a few months but didn't want to mention it to her until she approached him first.

He took her hand and excused them from the table as he led her to the lobby area of the venue. As soon as they turned the corner, Lewis' strong arms enveloped her in a tender embrace, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Their lips met softly, mouths melding together gently. It was a tender and loving kiss that expressed their shared devotion and longing for the next chapter of their lives.

With a gentle smile, they broke apart, their hands still entwined. The room seemed to radiate with the energy of their love and the endless possibilities that lay before them.

"Is that a yes?" (Y/n) asked, short of breath.

He kissed her gently, eye glistening with unshed tears. "Yes, let's start a family."

Nixon, New Jersey: November 1949

It was a cold and rainy morning when (y/n) stirred in bed, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her once again. This was the third morning in a row, and her eyes flickered over to Lew, who was fast asleep beside her. She always joked that even a freight train wouldn’t wake him up. Clutching her stomach, she quickly sat up, her heart racing as her body was trying to give her a few seconds of warning. (Y/n) barely had time to get to the bathroom, her steps hurried and unsteady as she covered her mouth with her hand. 

Reaching the bathroom just in time, (y/n) dropped to her knees, her body convulsing with dry heaves initially, followed by her dinner from the night before. The sensation was accompanied by a rush of relief, but the butter taste lingered in her mouth. 

Stirred by the sounds from the bathroom, Lew realized something was wrong and came rushing into the bathroom, concern etched across his features. He kneeled beside her, gathering her hair and rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked worriedly, his voice raspy from sleep.

“I don’t know, Lew,” (y/n) replied weakly. “This nausea just won’t go away.”

“I think that we should get you to the doctor,” Nix suggested, worried she might have caught a nasty stomach bug.

She nodded, her mind already racing with a suspicion she dared not speak aloud just yet. “Yeah, maybe,” she answered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

After Lew left for work, (y/n) decided to visit the doctor to get some answers. Anticipation and nervousness bubbled within her as the test was administered. The minutes felt like hours, but finally, the doctor confirmed what she had hoped for – she was pregnant.

Unable to contain her excitement, she hurried back home, her heart bursting with joy. The second she got home, she walked past their extra bedroom, inspiration striking her. The sun cast a soft, golden hue through the lace curtains, illuminating the extra room that held years of collected odds and ends. (Y/n) stood at the threshold, groaning at the old boxes, forgotten furniture, and random oddities that filled the room.

She had a lot of work cut out for her.

After putting on a Nat King Cole album, she took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeves, beginning the task at hand. As she meticulously sorted through the belongings, memories danced in her mind – the dusty bookshelf that held Lew’s childhood favorites, the old rocking chair her mother had gifted her, and the worn-out toys that once brought her so much joy. 

With every box she emptied and every piece of furniture she carefully moved, the room started to transform. The clutter began to vanish, making way for her vision of a nursery filled with love and laughter. She could almost visualize the crib nestled by the window, sunlight streaming in, casting a warm glow on the tiny cradle.

Time seemed to fly as she got lost in the whirlwind of her excitement. As the clock ticked on, (y/n) meticulously organized, cleaned, and dusted, pouring herself into every corner. By the time Nix got home from work, she had cleared out most of the clutter. Her eyes held a sparkle of pride as she surveyed her progress, already lost in the thoughts of cradling their newborn baby in this very room.

Lew opened the door, calling out to her as he did every day. “Honey, I’m home.”

As he put his briefcase onto the kitchen table, he noticed the random items and boxes that were scattered around the kitchen. With a raised eyebrow, he stepped over the clutter and followed the sound of (I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons to the couple’s extra bedroom.

“(Y/n)?” Lew asked as he entered the room, his eyes flicking between the few things left inside.

A rocking chair…

Some old toys…

His old bookshelf filled with children’s books…

She stood in front of the window with a hand covering her mouth, eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Hey,” she whispered.

Lew’s brows instantly furrowed and he approached her, taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“I’m happy.”

“You’re happy,” he pondered aloud, “But you’re crying.”

(Y/n) pulled back to look up at his puzzled face. “Yeah.”

“Why the sudden inspiration to clean out the crap in here?”

“Well,” she grinned up at him, her bottom lip wobbling as she spoke. “Our baby can’t have a room full of random stuff, can they?”

As (y/n) looked at him expectantly, he nodded with raised brows. “Yeah, yeah.”

But then his eyes widened suddenly and Lew’s gaze flew to hers. “The what?”

Tag List: @softguarnere @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2 @sofietargaryen @liptonsbabe @leximus98

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[mixelation]

itachi lying about getting his mangekyou from thinking he saw tori die is such a concept omg. Like truly gaslighting everyone.

team 4 really is gaslight gatekeep girlbossing their way through life :)

here's some dialogue lol

“It’s become apparent we need to be better at communicating,” Itachi said, standing in front of them like he was reporting to the Hokage. “We need to have a better understanding of each other’s limits and foreknowledge.”

Itachi did have his mangekyou. Tori had not needed to jump off a bird. 

“But did you want Kushina-sensei to know you have it?” Deidara asked, confused. 

Itachi stared thoughtfully at the wall behind Tori’s bed. 

“I suppose not,” Itachi said finally. 

“Then you’re welcome,” Tori replied dryly. “Does anyone know you have it?”

“No,” Itachi said flatly. 

“....do we need to fake a reason you have it?” Tori said cautiously, and Deidara immediately opened his mouth to ask what that meant.

“That would be… convenient,” Itachi said slowly, ignoring Deidara’s questions. 

“Okay, you can’t just announce we need to be better at communicating and refuse to communicate, yeah,” Deidara complained. 

Itachi stared at him. Tori let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“A regular sharingan evolves to a mangekyou under extreme emotional distress,” she told Deidara. “Like, extreme distress. Kill-someone-you-love distress.”

“Oh,” Deidara said, sounding taken aback, a rare emotion for him. After a beat, he asked, “Is that why you killed your family?”

“....No,” Itachi said. 

They stared at each other. Deidara’s eye started twitching. 

“That is a whole conversation we don’t have time for right now,” Tori said. “Although, Itachi, we should have a conversation eventually.”

“I know,” Itachi said, finally pulling his eyes away from Deidara.

Tori decided to change the direction of the conversation and turned to Deidara, sitting next to her on her bed. She kicked the side of his leg. 

“What about you? Still got a seal in your chest?”

“Not yet,” Deidara said, hand automatically going for the mouth in his chest. “I didn’t need it until puberty.”

Apparently, at some point during his growth spurt when most people’s chakra reserves naturally expanded, his chakra had gone haywire. Deidara was born with crazy large reserves; puberty had expanded them to levels he’d been unable to control. Iwa had sealed a bunch of it away out of fear of him blowing himself up. It was rare but not unheard of in people with Explosion Release. 

“That possibility is something you should have mentioned months ago,” Itachi said. “Kushina-sensei could–” 

“I might be able to control it this time,” Deidara cut him off. “The seal they do is permanent. I don’t want it unless it’s necessary, yeah.”

“I’m sure Konoha’s multiple fuinjutsu masters–” Itachi started. 

“I can take any seal off,” Tori interrupted before Itachi implied Konoha would be inherently better at managing Iwa’s bloodline limit than Iwa and Deidara started yelling. “But don’t you dare put me in a position where I have to make one up on the spot because you’re on the brink of exploding. Go tell Kushina-sensei they told you you’d need one when you were a kid, or Kurotsuchi mentioned it or something.”

“Fine,” Deidara griped and then solved half a croissant into his mouth. Then he glared at Tori. “And what ‘bout you?” he asked through a mouthful of bread. “What can you even do?”

“Uh,” Tori replied. 

Tori was not even sure she could die. 

“You can’t, like, tell?” Deidara asked. 

“No,” Tori replied. “I think I’d have to talk to the Shinigami to find out, and that’s not an experiment I’m prepared to repeat casually.”

“It would be convenient,” Itachi said, scratching his chin like he was having some sort of idea. “If you died temporarily, that would explain my mangekyou…”

As touching as it was that Itachi considered her a friend, Tori refused to do this unless Tsunade herself was immediately on hand. She definitely didn’t want to discover she was mortal now and actually die. And if she lived, she didn’t want to permanently damage herself. 

“My fuuinjutsu is probably on par with what it was before,” she said, changing the subject. “In theory I have more options because I can use chakra now, but I haven’t explored those much yet.”

“And you can melt people now, yeah,” Deidara said, then kicked her leg back. “You don’t have any other insane medical techniques you just forgot could have combat uses, do you?”

Tori stared down at her coffee cup, thinking this question over. She’d never gotten very good at the chakra scalpel technique. Could she use basic healing techniques for anything…?

“I hate that you have to think that hard, yeah,” Deidara told her.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Running from life

Dean Winchester x Winchester!Reader

Summary: Fighting is the only thing you and your father do now. You're tired of it. Gender Neutral

Warnings: Angst, Arguments, alcohol, Dean lowkey acting like J*hn, mentions of J*hn Winchester, lots of cussing, Running away, Dean being a bad father.

~☆~

It had been three days since the boys had seen you.

Three days since you angrily stormed out of the bunker.

Three days since you got in a fight with Dean.

Three days since you told him that you hate him.

Three agonizing days that Dean has had to live. He could argue that these past few days were worse than when he was in hell.

Sam had told him to wait for you to come back, that eventually you would. He proceeded to argue with his younger brother until Dean himself stormed off to drink himself silly.

He had begged Castiel to try and find you with his 'angel magic', but Cas had only told him that you were warded against him.

By the second day, Dean had already contacted Jody and asked if her or the girls had seen you. When the woman said no, he asked if he could tell people to keep an eye out. Jody obviously said,'Of course'.

By the third day, Dean was almost ready to summon Crowley and Rowena. But his worries were put on hold when you burst through the doors of the bunker, startling both men who lived there with you.

Dean had been at a war with himself for the past few days, angered, sad, scared, annoyed. Sam and Castiel had been the witnesses to his conflicting outbursts.

On one hand, he was still angry from your fight and annoyed that you would leave the bunker, the only place that you are safe at. Annoyed at how you purposefully warded yourself. Yes, the wardings keep you safe, but that also means that all possible ways oh him knowing where you are at are gone.

On the other hand, he was upset and scared. He loved you more than anything, his little baby. He once helped you do your hair and get dressed. You used to laugh with him in Bobby's kitchen, and now your relationship is just a thin string.

The sight of you brung him peace and content, but soon twisted into the one emotion he knows far too well, Anger.

"Where the hell have you been!" He seethed, his familiar gruff voice bouncing off the walls of the bunker.

"Out." You muttered to yourself, avoiding eye contact.

"Out?" Dean looked at Sam with a mocking expression. Sam's face portrayed shock. He knew exactly how this was going to end.

"Yes, out." You spoke again, getting annoyed by your fathers attitude.

"Mhm." Dean quickly let out, "And where exactly is 'out'?" Dean asked you, eyebrows raised in fake interest.

"Oh, you know.." You mused, "None of your business."

A thick silence filled the air, Sam quickly got up to try and escape the room, but Dean motioned for him to sit back down.

"Excuse me? You have been gone for three God damned days, I think it is my business." He yelled back at you, pissed beyond belief. You couldn't help but feel dread go through your body.

Is this how Sam and Dean felt around John? You know that your father is far from John Winchester, but lately you could see his father behind his eyes. Funny, how you don't remember the man but know exactly that your father is falling into his footsteps. Sometimes you look at Sam and feel jealousy, you know it's wrong, Dean was just a kid having to protect his brother against his will. Still, why wasnt he like an actual father with you?

"But you can disappear?" You asked him, genuine emotion showing in your brittle voice. Both Dean and Sam stare at you with wide eyes. From the corner of your eye, you can see Sam's face contort with sympathy. He knows this conversation all too well.

"It's my job, and you are still a child." Your father quickly defended himself. Your eyes finally looked in his own, and the anger on his face filled you with familiarity. You let out an ebrupt laugh at his words, "I know, it's our fate." You told him.

"I have fought demons and angels. I can take care of myself without you." You yelled.

"Yeah well, what if there's too many, what are you gonna do then?" He yelled back, "You'll wish you listed to me, that's what!"

You let put a frustrated groan, "Is this all were ever gonna do now!?" You ask.

Dean quieted down as he wandered what you were talking about. "Is what all were gonna do?" He questioned.

"Fight!" You stated with a loud voice, "Jesus christ Dad, this is all we do. I am so tired of it!"

"Yeah, well, if you stopped acting like your mother, then maybe we wouldn't be fighting!" He snapped at you, the same angry expression that he always had still evident on his face. He wasn't sorry. You stared at him with wide eyes, taking notice of how he wouldn't apologize for what he just blurted out.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester." You whispered, "You are a controlling, angry, shitty excuse of a father." Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes as you told him that, his own expression softened from shock before turning into a look of offense.

"Dont you dar-" He started, before you darted out of the room, shoulder roughly slamming into his own.

Dean stared at nothing, thinking about what had just happened. Sam, who was still in the room, watched with his mouth hung agape. Just as he was about to speak, Dean took a deep swallow and calmly walked into the kitchen. From where Sam sat, he could hear Dean reach into the fridge and grab one of the many glass bottles of beer, a sizzling sound of air not long after.

×

Sam was going to give you and Dean space. You had run off to your room and Dean was on his third beer now. However their was an un-easy feeling growing as a pit in his stomach, so he decided to go talk with you. He knows how you feel, he's been in your shoes, the running away, the anger, the father. He knows.

His knuckles lightly knocked on your door, hoping that you would open up for him

"Y/N, I just wanted to see if your okay." He stated, trying to listen for any sign of you.

"Y/N?" He asked, growing concerned at your silence. His hand went up to jiggle the door handle, only to find out it was unlocked. Sam took a deep breath as he slowly opened the door. A completely bare room was what he had stumbled into, almost like no one even used that room. You were gone.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, alerting his brother.

The older Winchester quickly ran to where his brother was yelling from, only to find Sam staring at an empty room. Dean gazed at your room, knowing that this was probably your final escape from him. Behind him, Sam was running his hands over his face, "I'll call Jody." Sam spoke.

"Don't, we won't find them."

~☆~

Inspired by:

I do not know who this is by or the context, but this entire fic came from this.^

[gibsongirled]

the two strangers.

description: schlatt's used to smuggling weird stuff to people, but never a girl. you don't make it that easily for him to smuggle out either.

warnings: mentions of guns

The water stains on the walls of Schlatt’s rundown apartment looked like they could be a part of the Rorschach test.

Sometimes he’ll sit in the living room on his off days and just stare at the wall, trying to make out what shape or pattern the stains had for him that day. The walls would offer splotchy dots of insects, two people dancing off rhythm, or his mother’s face- the last one makes him squeeze his eyes shut until he sees stars behind his eyelids. Curse those damn water stains.

Schlatt’s work wasn’t all that much. He got drafted into the fun job of burning the dead, infected bodies five months into the apocalypse when the military found him wandering on the side of the road with a bat in his hand and the clothes that he looted from some shop, and took him to a quarantined zone with the other members of civilization- and Ted, he was surprised and glad when he saw him. And when he wasn’t burning bodies, he was running supplies for all sorts of people for extra ration cards. First aid kit in this economy? Yeah, that’d be five ration cards. Ted ran his own operation too, it wasn’t just him swiping shit under the government’s noses, and he wasn’t the only one in the business. Sometimes Schlatt hated how Ted managed to get in situations that were not easy to get out of.

Ted and his group of acapella boy scouts (okay, maybe that wording was a bit harsh) had found you near an abandoned mall at the edge of the quarantined zone with your hands scraped and caked with dirt and grim. You were scuttling around in the dark like some rat and jumped at the sudden flash of light that was pointed at you, raising your arms in a defensive stance as if you were expecting someone to attack you. That was probably five weeks ago and you’re not that sure because you’re basing the time on the worn out calendar that hung on the wall in your room- a firefighter calendar, seriously?

The weekly questionnaire had become embedded in your brain to the point that you were sure you could recite all the questions in your sleep. What’s your name? Would they mind if you gave them a fake name? You weren’t even in the database - the lab you worked at made sure before they ushered you and everyone out - and you doubt they’ll even know your actual name, but you were a good sport and gave them your name anyway. How old are you? Simple, your twenty-fifth birthday is next week… or next month. Seriously, you needed to find an actual calendar that wasn’t stuck in 2021. Some math question you knew off the top of your head. Stand on your left foot, stand on your right foot. Hold both arms out. Jesus Christ, you haven’t done stuff like this since high school gym class, but you complied and they left you alone until you have to do that all over again next week. Be a scientist, they said. You’ll get good money, they said. No wonder those people are dead now.

“Jesus Christ- you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me, Ted!” Schlatt erratically waves a hand in your direction, making a face that looks like a scowl when he meets your eyes. You lean on the doorframe, watching the conversation between the two men unfold in the hallway. The sun peeks through the cracked windows, specks of dust dancing along with the light. Ted sheepishly glances at you before returning to his friend, trying to explain the situation with exaggerated hand movements. Eugh, theatre kids.

“She’s worth a lot-” he gets cut off by another scowl from Schlatt, who gives you a stink eye. You mirror his expression, scrunching up your nose as you cross your arms. “And I’m giving you half the share, Schlatt. You just need to take her to the hospital - you know the one - in Salt Lake City.”

You knew the hospital too. It was connected to the lab you worked in Little Rock before the outbreak, and it was also the first hospital in the system to lose contact with your lab a few days before the outbreak. You and the others didn’t think much of it- systems go offline sometimes, plus with the shitty old equipment, it was either you or them who were bound to lose contact at some point. But you waited for it to come back online with no luck, thus cutting connection with another lab that was trying to help you cure the flu. You couldn’t even call it the “flu” now.

“Why can’t Charlie take her?” Schlatt asks, rolling his shoulders back. “I thought he did most of the smuggling.”

“He’s busy… with other stuff,” Ted replies back, “look, you’d be doing me a huge favor here.”

Schlatt grunts, knowing how many favors Ted owed him over the years. He thinks the deal over. Getting half of the share wasn’t that bad- smuggling some random girl out wasn’t the greatest idea that Ted had, but if it pays then sure, he was doing it for the money anyway. “Ugh, fine.”

The small room that you had in Ted’s apartment looked better than Schlatt’s apartment.

The stripped, oddly colored wallpaper’s peeling down, exposing the grimy, white paint underneath. Your eyes dart around the splotchy dots, trying to connect and make odd shapes. You sit on the couch, your bag of supplies that Ted gave you beside you and hands on your knees as you intently stare at Schlatt, who sits on the armchair opposite from you. He gives you a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” comes your quick reply. Schlatt leaves it at that, not wanting to engage further in the already short conversation with you. You tap your fingers on your knees, seemingly bored at sitting still in a room with a man who didn’t look too thrilled to talk to you.

“We’re waiting for night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool.”

Night came faster than you expected. Of course, the added bonus was that you slept upright on the couch to speed up the time faster. Though now you had to deal with a kink in your neck. The edge of the quarantined zone is surrounded by guards on the night shift. Whether it was walking on the grounds or on top of the lookout, you couldn’t really get past them unless you were one of them, or invisible. Schlatt shushes you, index finger against his lips and you nodded, giving him a slight thumbs up at which Schlatt looks at you with a confused look on his face before going back to scanning the layout of how you two were supposed to go out undetected.

Schlatt spots an exit that was left unguarded and he beckons you with his hand to follow behind him. The two of you crouch behind the sandbags nearing the exit until Schlatt gets spotted, a flashlight points at him. The source of light then points at you, you look up to see the perplexed look on the guard’s face. So much for wanting a quiet exit.

“Hey, don’t move! Don’t you fuckin’ move!” The guard starts, darting the flashlight between the two of you. You freeze like a deer in headlights, staying in your crouched position, looking at the guard who probably isn’t even paid much to deal with shit like this.

“Hey, Jack-” Schlatt starts, slowly standing up and gesturing with his hand for you to do the same. You straighten back up like those inflatable balloon men at car dealerships, hands at your side as the heel of your boot digs into the coarse dirt.

The guard cuts him off, “It’s James.”

You make a face at the name. Damn J names. “Oh yeah right,” Schlatt forces a smile on his face. “Look, man, you know me. I ran shit for you” Schlatt raises his hands up in surrender and you do the same. “We’re friends, right? Just let us through.” The guard - unamused with his words - raises his gun, pointing it towards you and then at Schlatt. Shit.

In a quick flash before you could even process what had happened, you feel Schlatt grab your hand, pulling you hard after him as a shot goes off in the air and the guard limps on the ground, clutching his leg. You almost trip on your legs, unable to follow the fast pace that Schlatt had set out, dragging you behind like a rag doll.

“Come on, Doc! Catch up!” Schlatt barks his words at you, his grip on your hand tightening as you try to match up to his pace.

Eventually, the two of you stand outside the quarantined zone. You can hear the alarms ringing out in the distance behind you, your heart thumping in your chest as you pant. In the dark, Schlatt lets go of your hand, opting to adjust the strap on his backpack. You look at him, squinting in the darkness, trying to make out the features on his face.

“So, where to next?”

[sleepybabybees]

Just some silly things- (mostly tiktoks I've got or conversations I've had-)

Gaz, soap, and ghost being silly drawing Peppa pig on Price's whiteboard in his office

(Based on a conversation I had)

Gaz: we're so artistic..now it can't smile-

Soap: did you just call me autistic??

Gaz: no- I said artistic- *trying not to laugh too loud*

Ghost: ah yes the demon incentive has no mouth-

------

Gaz played genshin impact for the first time...

Gaz: I have no idea what's going on in this quest- Furina, the archon, is being accused of being a fake- but the traveller ,who is as mute as the roach under my bed, is speaking like actually speaking...with his voice- I dont know what's happening anymore-

----

The 141 and laswell reading comments on booktok videos during their break

Gaz: "crawl to me" rhys I love you- but what-

Price: is she stuck or something??

Soap: negative...she's simply obeying her commander-

Ghost: are we really doing this-?

Roach signing: I wanna go home-

Soap: "whatever you read I will do to you when we get home" brother eugh-

Gaz: holy shit- i dont think I want that-

Price: what does this do to benefit us-?

Ghost: expell some of the impending dread and trauma weighing down on us apparently-

Roach signing: causing more of it more like-

Price relenting: "the beast inside my chest snarled again" I'm sorry- but you should get that checked-

Soap choking on his coffee

Gaz hunched over laughing: I can't breatheeeee-

Ghost: what in the eye of the tiger-

Roach signing; do people really like this-?

Laswell reading over John's shoulder; "I own you my little pet" hell nah-

Ghost snickering to himself: no man has more balls than you laswell

Gaz: amen

Soap: so true

Roach nodding along

Laswell: damn straight, boys.

Ghost finally giving in: "You like that don't you" I would like you to never speak to me again-

Soap and gaz wheezing on the ground

Price: thats enough now- Gary looks traumatised-

Laswell: what happened to that wall that was around...

Roach: Haunting Adeline - I think I would snap my own neck...

Everyone in the room staring at roach: ...

Roach smiling innocently

----

Ghost: it's always if if if-

Ghost: if my mom had balls she'd be my dad-

Soap laughing softly out of concern: uh-huh

----

Ghost watching gaz play genshin just to commentate

Npc: can't you see I'm on a break kid, scram.

Ghost: yeah, we all stand in a fucking thunderstorm for our breaks...Jack wagon.

Npc: but my hands..they're not steady

Ghost: because you have fucking hypothermia from standing in a fucking thunderstorm for an hour and a half!

Gaz losing it and hitting his desk whilst crying with laughter