#this is long but i had lots to say so pardon me

[lycoryspreachin]

barty is a narcissist. is it surprising? prehaps not, but what it is is very telling of his behaviour and upbringing.

narcissistic personality disorder is of course a difficult thing to describe or analyse over such short and relatively lighthearted writing but i will attempt my best.

barty's character takes various forms of materialisation in my mind and subconscious, however, there are specific traits i never fail to assign him. he is insecure, with no sense of self, has dramatic delusions of grandiosity and out of all the people who viscerally hate him he does the most. if we consider this hypothesis, we are swiftly presented with the scaffolding of what we can imagine barty's childhood to have been. we can easily paint in our minds the crouch's family situation. in the center of the canvas is an unattentive man, careless for nothing but his own grand ambitions. on his right, is a sick but beautiful woman, who heart only beat for barty's own, whose life has been sold and whose future holds only despair. her present, however, lies between her frail and pale hands, her only son. around the gracious trio nothing but high grey walls with cloudy and mighty windows giving out on a large and empty, dull, green land. with no stable structure on which to climb, the lonely child grabs on the unsteady and burning one, his mother. I'm fairly certain barty hates her, so much that he can only ever love her. she the poison in his veins, threatening his life and she is the very organ keeping him alive. her death was the death of his soul, he was sure of it. it left him wondering whether climbing that shaky rock to avoid the flood was worth the fall once it yeld under the stream. it was a humiliation to be alive and he would do all he could to never feel shame ever again.

younger in order to not distress and unleash his mother’s distorted bursts of emotions, he learned to observe her every move, and then everyone every move, he grew paranoid, until he couldn’t trust anyone, until he couldn’t value people anymore, except for his harem of gods of course. he had a very simplistic view of people, you were either absolute scum or absolutely divine and his view of himself often fluctuated between the former and the latter. he lies, he deceives, and he wants, he wants to be seen and heard and considered. he preys on those around him, and he will catch them because he always succeeds in everything he does.

the way he grew up greatly shaped him, or rather, his identity was never shaped due to it. he doesn't exist, he isn't anything and i would go as far as saying he views himself as dead. he devotes his life to the worship of gods he sees around. the god of knowledge, of beauty, of evil and voldemort ( maybe he saw him as the manifestation of all of the deities he followed for so long ). he had gone mad, and maybe he allowed himself to go mad, to be liberated and exist, freely, shamelessly, boundlessly. he sacrificed a life for eternity, an entire existence for a unique remembrance.

and i think within the context of his life he is somewhat dearly and betwitchingly admirable

[arundolyn]

on one hand it sucks cause it sucks to see her like this and for her to have to go through it in general and also its literally so much cancer and like at least???? at LEAST 2 different types???? so they don't know what to do about it and any further treatment would literally just be Seeing What Happens. and it sucks for this to be like. it. and to have to remember This after

but on the other it's also. like. all of this happening has kinda crystallized more in my mind that i don't have a hell of a lot of nice things to say about my mom in the end. which feels awful. but also at the same time i can't really like.. tolerate. giving credit to someone who Loves me who like.. saw it as an obligation? and would and probably will right now if given the opportunity hold it over my head? the fact that she raised me and all. i brought you into this world ill take you out etc. i don't know how you can say that shit to a kid ever and think you're right. i just can't. for all that she's always said she loves me she sure. doesn't act like it much. i don't think keeping all my baby blankets and my kindergarten schoolwork counts for much when your actual emotional support of me has never been great and is half of why im Like This. like it doesn't really feel like she's ever made much of an effort to understand me. lord knows I'll never understand her at this point aside from just. kinda always been too self centered for parenting i think. my mother has never been particularly selfless.

all of this feels horrendous to say out loud in any regard

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]

"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."

"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."

"Don't say 'coochie'."

"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.

"Vagina."

And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.

The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.

"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."

Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."

"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."

Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."

The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.

"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."

Mark's grin is cocky.

"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."

Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.

"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.

"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."

"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."

"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.

"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."

"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.

But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.

"You okay?"

And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.

"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."

Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.

"Yeah, this is a mood setter."

"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.

"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.

Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.

You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.

"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.

The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.

"Move your hand."

Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.

Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.

"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."

You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.

"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.

"No you're n—nahh..."

Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.

"You little... Fuck.."

You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.

And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"So I'm big, huh?"

He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.

"Just fuck me already."

You grumble.

And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.

The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.

"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.

"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.

"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"

"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.

"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."

With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.

His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.

"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.

"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.

And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.

"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.

Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."

Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.

Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.

He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.

Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.

"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.

Inhaling the scent of you.

"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."

His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.

Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.

"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."

And a laugh tumbles from his lips.

"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.

"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.

"And you'd thank me for it."

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Rook Hunt

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Rook Hunt x Reader 🏹🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda)

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Rook’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 2.270 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy 🏹

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / (Rook) / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / Azul / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho says when you land in the new dream, along with Grim, Silver, Sebek and Epel. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

After Silver checks if Epel is feeling okay after the trip from one dream to another, you all realize that you are in the Savanaclaw dorm. Which makes you wonder if you are in a Savanaclaw student's dream.

“AH! Mon amour!” You hear a familiar voice say.

You look and see Rook already by your side. One of his hands holds your waist to bring you closer to him, while the other holds your hand to kiss the back of it. But that wasn't the Rook you knew, he was wearing the Savanaclaw uniform, had freckles and messy hair tied in a ponytail under what looked like a cowboy style hat. You see the dreamer's bird flying over him.

“Any vision of you is a merveilleuse one! To what do I owe your and your friends' visit today?”

“ROOK?!” Epel says in disbelief, but then focuses on something else. “Wait... Doesn't ‘mon amour’ mean ‘my love’?”

“I have a bad and cringy feeling about this.” Idia's voice comments through the tablet.

“You're Epel Felmier, a Pomefiore freshman, I believe?” Rook says without taking his hands off you. “And you're in the Spelldrive Club, if I recall... Are you here to visit our housewarden Leona?”

“Can’t you have a conversation without clingin’ to my hench-human?” Grim complains and jumps into your arms to separate Rook from you.

“Hehehehe. I see I haven't been approved by you yet, Grim.” Rook says amusedly. “Very well, it seems that the journey to prove myself to you and have your blessing continues. Until then, a forbidden love this shall be. He he. Comme c'est excitant!”

“LO- Ugh! Why're you in Savanaclaw Dorm uniform anyway?!” Grim asks. “Your hair's all scraggly, and you've got stray leaves on your clothes... Vil would throw a fit if he saw you like that!”

“Vil?” Rook asks in astonishment. “You mean Vil Schoenheit, the actor?”

You all discover that, in this dream of Rook's, Vil does not study at Night Raven College, but instead at Royal Sword Academy. And he and Neige are like best friends. Rook, extremely excited, starts telling a lot of things about Vil and Neige to the point of quoting an interview with the two of them in full. Until he suddenly says something much louder than usual.

“Would you stop yelling?” Sebek says. “You startled me!”

“Oh, pardon me. I got rather carried away there... I just have so few people in Savanaclaw I can discuss Vil, Neige, and film in general with. Which also makes it a blessing to have someone like (Y/N) by my side.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Oh mon cher, you are as big a fan of Vil and Neige as I am. No one can match my adoration like you.”

“Thank you, Rook Hunt, this was fascinating.” Ortho says. “I'd actually like to learn more about them...”

“Truly?! Why, I would be delighted!”

The others show their discontent to Ortho, but he explains that the more they understand the differences between this dream world and the real one, the easier it will be for them to find a way to wake Rook.

Excited to tell them more about Vil and Neige, Rook suddenly runs into the Savanaclaw building. You and the others run after him because you can't get too far away from the dreamer. You run to the closed door of his room where you hear a commotion inside.

“How is it taking so long to fetch one magazine?” Sebek questions.

“D-don't worry, I'll be right out!” Rook responds trying to hide his concern. “Don't open that door, whatever you do!”

“Mrr! I'm hearin' weird noises comin' from inside.” Grim says.

“Apologies for the wait! I found more things I positively need to show you... Whoa!”

Fearing that Rook might be under attack by the darkness and ignoring his pleas for them not to enter, they break down the door and enter Rook's room. To find a room completely filled with Neige merch on one half of the room and Vil merch on the other half.

Rook laughs in a strange, almost threatening way and says that since they had seen his room they could no longer leave... without joining him in reverently watching DVDs of his favorite actors! So he forces everyone to sit with him to do it. And of course he makes you sit right next to him.

He made you all watch those DVDs for FIVE HOURS!

“The fact that they played arch-enemies just made those final smiles so... so... beauté!”

“Mrah... After marathoning all those movies and stage plays, I'm exhausted.” Grim says in a sigh.

Ortho thanks Rook for all that information and says that it is already very late and that everyone should go back to their respective dorms and get some sleep. Before they leave, Epel asks Rook about the SDC and he replies that Vil and Neige sang together and he just watched.

“We can have another watch party whenever you like. Perhaps we can put that show on next time. Bon nuit, everyone!”

As you all left Rook’s room one by one, you stayed behind to be the last to leave. Maybe you even did it on purpose to see if Rook would do something. And he did.

As soon as Epel leaves and you are about to leave next, Rook suddenly appears in front of you to casually close the door behind Epel.

“I wonder what I did wrong to receive such cold treatment from you, mon cher.” He tells you with a theatrically brokenhearted look. “I understand not getting a bisou de bonjour with so many people around you. But not even a small, discreet bisou d'adieu?”

He gets closer to you and caresses your cheek, looking you sadly in the eyes. Seeing that you don't back away from his touch, he continues.

“Oh, where did I go wrong? What mistake could I have made to receive such a cruel sentence as deprivation of your touch? Is it my bail conquer your love all over again?” He brings his face closer to yours with a seductive smile, and he sees that you don't move away, quite the opposite. “Or should I continue to claim innocence?”

“(Y/N)!” Grim shouts from the other side of the door. “What are you still doing in there?”

“Did something happen?” Silver asked.

“Stop wasting time human!” Sebek complains. “We all must go for now.”

Rook moves away from you.

“Ah... My diligent jailers. You must go with them so that their worries will cease. But I see that you are in good and capable hands.” He takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it before opening the door for you like a gentleman.

And if you thought about taking advantage of that moment to kiss him, you realized that he seemed to be... enjoying his... “punishment”. So you decided to save that possible kiss for later.

Outside Savanaclaw's dorm it was already night and you and the others talked about Rook's dream and how you could wake him up. Epel has the idea of recreating SDC's performance because it was the crucial moment that the darkness was trying to make him forget. Make him remember that Vil actually despises Neige to the point of doing what he did and Rook's betrayal. You, Epel and Grim taught Silver, Sebek and Ortho the dance steps of the choreography of Absolutely Beautiful so you could take the places of the remaining members of the original group.

The next day, you were the one tasked with getting Rook to go to the Coliseum. You sent him a message to meet you in front of it.

The time you had set was approaching, but you couldn't see Rook. He must have been getting ready to surprise you. You looked around as if you really believed you would be able to see him in time. Suddenly you feel a kiss on your cheek. You look, but you don't see anyone. You look back to the other side where he is right there next to you with a smile.

“Greetings and bonjour, mon cher. I'm here as you requested. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to show you something.” you say.

“Show me something?” Rook smiles. “Coming from you, I wonder with excitement what that might be.”

You take him inside the Coliseum so he can see the replica of the SDC stage up close. You go up on stage to dance with the others and Rook starts to get emotional because a part of him starts to remember that day. The dream begins to distort as if Rook were to wake up, but at that moment two darkness figures appear: Vil and Neige, both in RSA uniforms.

As if it were a real performance, the two of them take the stage after your group and start singing together, which moves Rook again, but in a way that makes him go back into his dream world.

Epel is angered by this and gives Rook a speech about what really happened that day and who they both know Vil really is. His Roi du Poison, their queen is way, way, WAY more poisonous and beautiful! And if he really believes that cheap copy comes even close to the real Vil, and he choosing him over the real one, that makes him more of a traitor right now that he was when he cast that vote for Royal Sword Academy!

And this is what makes the dreams shatter and Rook wake up.

Darkness Vil and Neige try to convince him to back down and accept singing with them, but Rook responds by preparing his bow and pointing an arrow in the direction of the two fake figures. Darkness Vil stands in front of Darkness Neige to protect him.

“What noble friendship you share...” Rook says with tears in his eyes. “And yet that very harmony is proof of my terrible betrayal!”

Rook and the others fight the fake figures and make them melt into darkness.

“Oh, dear pommette! To think I would be woken from my slumber by one bearing a poison that can put anyone to sleep.” Rook hugs Epel so tightly that he gasps for air. “Apologies...” he sobs “Oh, pommette, I can only beg you to forgive my betrayal.”

Epel tells him that he doesn't need to cry, but when he offers him a handkerchief, he realizes that he doesn't have one with him and the two comment on how Vil was right in telling him to carry one. The others talk about their own struggles in their respective dreams so that Rook knows that he wasn't the only one who forgot important things, that this was how those dreams worked to trap them.

“Merci! Oh, merci beaucoup! I cannot thank all of you enough. But there is one of you to whom I owe more than thanks, I owe an apology.” He walks up to you with an embarrassed and regretful face, and he kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), I'm so sorry for causing you so much discomfort. I never hid my love for you, so this part shouldn't have come as a surprise to you, but I can only hope that my behavior has not crossed any boundaries of yours. Please, forgive my shameless audacity. Whatever I can do to be worthy of your forgiveness, please tell me. I will do anything to redeem myself and have a fraction of your trust again.”

He was being so dramatic and still had tears in his eyes that it looked like he was trying to save himself from a death sentence for a horrible and unforgivable offense. The thing is... you like him too... and this was your chance to reciprocate the feeling.

Luckily for you, a simple, almost imperceptible smile from the corner of your mouth is enough for Rook to understand everything.

“Unless...” He stands up and looks you in the eyes with a smirk. “In truth, you enjoyed the experience of having me as your lover.”

You don't need to say anything. Your smile, whatever kind it is, is more than enough for him to understand perfectly. He holds one of your hands. That's how he saw, from the glove he was wearing, that he was still wearing Savanaclaw's uniform.

“In that case,” In the snap of a finger, Rook was back in his Pomefiore uniform and signature bob-cut. “Should we make it real?” he kisses the back of your hand. “Would you be so generous as to make my dream come true, my dear trickster?”

If you try to kiss him, he will stop you with a finger on your lips.

“Non, not yet.” he says despite the pity in his voice. The finger that interrupted your kiss slides to caress your cheek. “As much as I long to discover the wonderful feeling of your lips on mine, this must be something to be discovered in reality, not in a dream. I will wait impatiently for that moment. But sometimes it is this agony of waiting that makes everything so much more special... and intense.”

“ARE YOU DONE OR NOT?!” Grim complained. “Hurry up, we have another dream to go to!”

.

When you return to the real world, no matter what the state of Twisted Wonderland, Rook will find a way to lure you to a secluded place to finally taste your kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[confused-wanderer]

The villains are utterly confused.

They remember the first robin. They remember how bloodthirsty the little gremlin was, how he appeared out of the darkness with a “HIYA FOLKS” that gave people near heart attacks with PTSD so bad they flinched everytime they walked into a dark corner. They remember his grin, baring few too many teeth with a glint in his eyes whenever the bat wasn’t around to curb him. They remember the death stare, the brooding that made no one doubt this was the Bat’s son. They remember how a punch would land a lot harder than it was supposed to, or the screaming that followed. Oh they remembered him alright.

The second one thank the stars was better. The second robin was giggly. He would hop around town, offering his help to everyone who needed it. Sure he was rough with abusers but hell no one cared about them. Matter of fact, the villains were glad because those assholes deserved no sympathy. They remember his puns, his wonder, his innocence and his spark. They remembered his laughter, his concern - the kind that only comes from one who’s been on the streets. This one was better, and the villains thanked their lucky stars. They remembered him alright.

But now, as the years passed and new characters emerged, the crime city saw the rise of two characters - a sunshine happy nightwing and a ready to kill red hood. And naturally, from their experiences in the past, the villains ended up making an honest mistake that ruined the two vigilantes’ reputation:

The villains assumed the first robin was Red Hood and the other was Nightwing. And BY GOD Gotham has not seen unhinged chaos like this.

SCENE 1

Red Hood *drawing his pistol* : Please, reach for your weapon. I’m itching for an excuse for my intrusive thoughts to become extrusive.

Two-Face: You dare mock me little bird?! Well.. I may not have my weapon.. but I have something I know you’d like..

Red Hood: Oh yeah?What’s that?

Two-Face: TAKE THIS! *slams button and coconuts start falling from the sky, all cracking and spilling as they hit the ground*

Red Hood:

Two-Face:

Red Hood: .. the fuck was that supposed to do?

Two-Face: .. HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! YOU HATE COCONUTS ROBIN!!

Red Hood: The fuck- .. wait did you call me robin?

Two-Face *grins* : Yea.. robin. The first one. Thought I didn’t notice?

Red Hood: The first one? Does this *gestures vaguely to himself and his weapons* seem like something the first robin would do?

Two-Face:

Goon 1: I mean.. yeah

Red Hood: What! The first robin was nice!

Goon 2 *guffawing*: I beg your fucking pardon??

Two-Face: .. you took my coin and attached a magnet beneath it so everytime I flipped it it wouldn’t stop spinning. Do you know how long that took me to figure out?? Do you know how insane it drove me?? Joker had to help me out of pity. OUT. OF. PITY.

Red Hood:

Goon 1: ..Also you did steal some of our bones

Red Hood: hedidfuckingwhatnow-

SCENE 2

Nightwing: Hey there buddy! You look frostyl!

Dr. Freeze: Aha! You are too late to stop me robin!

Nightwing: .. robin?

Dr. Freeze: why yes! Don’t act coy, I know it’s you there. Now that we’ve got that clear.. I was wondering if you remembered all those years ago when you gave me a source for electricity to power a hospital keeping my Nora?

Nightwing:

Dr. Freeze: well you weren’t careful enough and never told me how much I could take from it.. so I used it to power so many of my inventions that came after

Nightwing *remembering when Jason was robin and every damn time he came to visit Wayne Manor his room would always run out power and the countless cold showers in freezing winters he had to take because of it*: .. oh? Well, sorry to break your bubble, but that wasn’t me Elsa.

Dr. Freeze: no? You joke around, make puns and I’m supposed to believe it’s NOT you?. The first one brooded like there was no tomorrow. He pissed me off so bad once I overheard him saying his favourite ice cream flavour and I made sure it wouldn’t be available in Gotham for YEARS. You’re not as bad as the first one. I’d remember if you were him.

Nightwing:

Nightwing *firing up his escrima sticks to maximum voltage*: Oh let me jog your memory then :)

[clockwayswrites]

Birds need a flock, after all! Part 38

masterpost nooooooo editing *flops over in migraine land*

“Danny, can I talked to you for a moment.”

Danny closed his eyes and took a slow breath before turning to face Jason. He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Jason, sure. I hope yesterday went well?”

“Long but well, yeah,” Jason said. He looked away from Danny and shifted his weight in a way that seemed almost nervous. “I owe you an apology.”

Danny blinked. “I—pardon?”

“For yesterday,” Jason said. “I hurt you, which wasn’t what I meant to do. I was in a rush and didn’t stop to think about what what I was saying and what I did say I said badly. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh.” Danny resisted the urge to reach up and rub at the back of his neck. “That’s okay Jason, apology accepted.”

“That’s—” Jason cut himself off with a frown. “It doesn’t have to be okay, I know I fucked up.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jason,” Danny said with a little shake of his head.

“So, what? You’ll just let yourself be hurt and roll over and pretend it’s okay?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s how I’ve survived.”

Which maybe was a bit sad, but it was true. Go along with his parent’s work, die in the portal, die again, try to keep the peace, lose everything for cheating, be punished for not liking a holiday, for being too nerdy too curious too much. He’d been rolling over and playing dead all his life.

Jason rubbed at his face. “You don’t.. you don’t have to do that, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you have to here. A lot of us… we’re bad at saying things. Alfred and Bruce says too little, I say the wrong thing. Dick pretends to be happy and Tim wants to make everyone else happy. Cass struggles with words and Damian his emotions. Duke might be the only competent one in the house. But you shouldn’t have to just give in for any of us.”

Danny glanced away.

“You shouldn’t,” Jason insisted, “because if nothing else we’re all trying to be better and if we’re going to get better we have to be called on our bullshit. Yesterday I fucked up. I am scared of you being alone with Lian, but because you’re still mostly a stranger to me. That just means I’d prefer, to start, if Alfred or Bruce were with you two. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to hide or… or that there’s something wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Fuck no!” Jason said with such earnest fervor that Danny was left looking at him in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with you being a meta and the changes that you’re going through. And me being wary of you with Lian has nothing to do with that. It’s just my own fears and need to make sure she’s safe. And if you’re fine with it, and I mean really fine with it, I’d like to get to know you better, so I can get rid of that fear.” Jason stepped forward and offered his hand. “So, sorry for being a raging asshole, I didn’t mean to be, not that it makes it much better. But hi, I’m Jason Todd, and I’d like to get to know you better so that you’re not a stranger, is that okay?”

Danny gave a little snort of amusement at the theatrics, but he reached out and took Jason’s hand with his own. His own had that was almost normal again, save a scattering of soft, downy feathers. “Danny Fenton, and I’d like that.”

[wonderjanga]

How about something like, once billy share mary his powers, but due to mary being new superheroe she hasn't come with a name yet so she use captain marvel for a while plus they are twins and kinda look alike... villains and heroes were confused

Mary: *minding her business*

Flash: *zooms over* “Cap! Ca— whoa when’d you grow your hair out.”

Mary: “Huh?”

Flash: “Also why’re you wearing a skirt?”

Mary: “I always have?”

Flash: “Since when?”

Mary: “Since the very first time I became a hero…?”

Flash: “Nuh uh.”

Mary: “Uh… Yuh huh.”

Flash: “Nuh uh cause look.” *shows her a pic of him and Cap, chilling*

Mary: *wondering how long her brother’s known these guys* “Wow, when was this taken?”

Flash: “Like two years ago. Anyways, so why are you wearing a skirt?”

Mary: “I already told you I always have.”

Flash: “Dude, I literally just showed you proof— also, why you younger? You look 16. Did you de-age yourself?”

Mary: “No?”

Flash: “Again, I literally have proof in my han—”

Marvel: “Hey, Flash!” *lands next to him* “I see you’ve met Captain Marvel?”

Flash: *short-circuits and looks between them both* “Aren’t… You Captain Marvel?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Flash: “And somehow she’s Captain Marvel?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Flash: “I’m just gonna go now.”

Marvel: “But I thought you were coming over because you wanted to play that new game you bought? It was that, right?”

Flash: “It was, yeah. I wanted to play Mortal Kombat with you and thrash you cause you suck, but…” *looking between them* “I’d rather not deal with whatever this is. Is she an evil clone?”

Marvel: “No?”

Flash: “A normal clone?”

Mary: “No??”

Flash: “A doppelgänger perhaps that’s been aged down?”

Mary: “No?!”

Flash: “Are you sure? Cause this is reminding me a lot of the Superboy situation.”

Mary: “What Superboy situation??”

Flash and Marvel: “Don’t worry about it.”

Marvel: “Anyways, it’s not like that. She’s my sister.”

*silence*

Flash: *doesn’t believe him* “…Sister?”

Marvel: “Yeah? Why do you seem surprised?”

Flash: “Well…” *looks between them* “…I mean, I can see that she’s way younger than you and that you guys look really, really alike. If you guys weren’t so far apart in age, I’d say you were twins.”

Marvel: *shrug* “We get it from our dad. He had strong genes.”

Flash: “Are you sure you’re not the dad?”

*silence*

Marvel; “Pardon?”

Flash: “Well, I’m looking at her, and I’m looking at you and you’re definitely old enough to be her dad.”

Marvel: “So…?”

Flash: “So are you actually her dad and are just lying to me? Are you the one with the strong genes?”

Marvel: “Wha— No!”

Flash: “You sure? Cause I’m pretty sure you’re late 30s and she looks 14 to 15.”

Marvel: “Yes, I’m sure. I’d know if she came out of me.” *crosses arms, sounds so sure of himself*

Flash: “Why would she come out of you…?”

Marvel: “Isn’t that where babies come from?”

Flash: “Yes, but why would she come out of you? …and not her mom?”

Bonus:

Black Adam: “Why… are you a little girl?”

Mary: “Oh come on!”

[uramakimochi]

hihihi babe i don’t know if you’re accepting requests but im love love loving the wolf star parents fics!!!! i was wondering if you might be able to write about everyone when r gets her first boyfriend or goes on her first date?? totally get it if not im just wondering babe!!!

HIII I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS^^ IT WAS FUN WRITING THE FIRST PART OF THIS FIC BUT I'M NOT SO PROUD OF THE REST SO I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE IT🩷

MEETING THE FAMILY

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

Fred Weasley x Reader (i know, everyone always writes with him i'm sorry, but it just fits for the plot)

James Potter, Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr x Reader (platonic)

WARNINGS: this is just a crack fic lol, FEM!R + some use of Y/n, your Hogwarts house is not specified, Sirius and James being dramatic, Regulus and Barty being Slytherin threats, Remus being the most normal and Y/n being so done with her family. Maybe Fred is a little ooc? Idk.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"SHE HAS A WHAT?!"

Remus jumped when he heard Sirius' voice shouting from the living room, but before he could even ask him the reason for the shouting, he heard footsteps approaching him at a run, until Sirius' figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OUR DAUGHTER HAS A BOYFRIEND!" Sirius yelled with wide eyes and Remus noticed the letter he was clutching in his hand. "AND I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT IT!!"

Remus rolled his eyes and went back to cooking lunch as if nothing had happened.

"Try asking yourself why she didn't tell you anything..." he murmured with a smirk.

"Ha ha ha, funny babe, really funny" Sirius retorted with a grimace. "Why doesn't that upset you??"

Remus shrugged.

"She's 15 Sirius, it's normal at that age to find a boyfriend. Don't be dramatic"

"It's Fred Weasley"

Remus dropped the spoon on the kitchen counter and slowly turned to face him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"So...Fred Weasley?"

You groaned, not looking up from your book when you heard Harry's voice behind your ear.

"Yes, Harry. Fred Weasley. Is there any problem about that?" you asked, turning the page.

Harry sat next to you on the bench at one of the four tables in the Great Hall. Strangely enough, Ron and Hermione weren't with him, but you knew that sooner or later they would join too.

"Honestly? You're practically my sister and it feels weird to know that you're dating someone" he said and you smiled in amusement. "Especially someone like Fred Weasley"

"And what does that mean?" you asked again, finally turning to look at him.

Harry shrugged without saying anything and you sighed.

"Look, Fred is your friend Harry, you know him. You should be glad i'm not dating Malfoy" you said and Harry made a disgusted face. "And then..."

You couldn't help the small sigh that left your lips as your eyes landed on Fred's figure, who was sitting at the table across from yours. As if he felt your gaze on him, at a certain point he too raised his eyes from his breakfast and met yours. He flashed you a smile and waved at you before giving you one of his winks that gave you butterflies in your stomach. You shyly waved back and Harry could perfectly see in your eyes all the love you felt for him.

"He's always sweet to me. He always makes me laugh" you said. "And he also gives me a lot of gifts"

Harry smiled slightly.

"How long have you been together?" he asked you.

Fred went back to chatting with George and Lee and you looked back at your best friend.

"For a while. We kept it under wraps at first because we wanted to make sure it was an official thing. We didn't want to spread false rumors, you know what i mean?" you said and Harry nodded. "You know, i invited him home for the holidays, to let him meet my parents"

Harry's eyes widened.

"He's going to meet Sirius and Remus??" he asked shocked and you giggled. "And you're not afraid of their reaction?"

You shrugged, closing your book and reaching for some toast. "Dad's usually the calm one, so it doesn't worry me. It's Sirius i'm worried about. You know how he is, he's very..."

"Dramatic" you chorused with amused smiles.

You began to eat your toast, until Ron and Hermione also joined you at the table and sat down across from you, starting a new conversation.

Remus and Sirius had taken it well... More or less.

"WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!"

"YOU ARE DATING FRED WEASLEY?!"

You jumped as you heard your parents' voices ringing in the living room. As you had told Harry, Remus was the less dramatic of the two, but he was still shocked that you were dating Fred Weasley.

"Dads…" you murmured, running a hand over your face.

"Darling i thought you liked Neville, i mean you're so alike! Or Harry! Or even a girl!" Remus exclaimed. "But one of the twins..."

"Harry and Neville are my friends, i never liked them that way" you retorted with hot cheeks. "And i don't like girls"

Sirius dropped dramatically into his chair. Typical of Sirius.

"My sweet little girl is going out with that rascal of Fred Weasley..." he murmured, covering his face with his hands. "Why couldn't you like Charlie or Bill?"

"I don't know Bill and Charlie and they are too old for me"

Remus pointed a finger at you. "Correct answer"

You groaned and crossed your arms.

"Look, i'm going to tell you both the same thing i told Harry. For your information, Fred is very sweet and kind to me and i care about him. A lot. So i'd like you to be nice to him the day he comes here, okay?"

"Ugh, does he really have to come to our house?" Sirius muttered, looking at you from behind his fingers.

"Do i really have to cook for him?" Remus asked back.

You rolled your eyes and went up to your room, ignoring their calls.

The day finally came when Fred would come to meet your parents. When you heard the front door bell you ran down the stairs from your room.

"He's here! Are you ready??" you asked frantically, looking at your fathers.

Remus glanced at his watch.

"I'm surprised he arrived even early" he murmured in confusion.

You walked towards the front door with an excited smile, but Sirius passed you.

"I'll open it!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately chased after him. "No! Dad!"

Just before Sirius could open the door, you glued yourself to his body, trying to drag him away.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed, trying to make you detach from his body.

"No!" you retorted, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You'll make him run away!"

"I just want to say hi, i swear!"

You turned your head towards the direction of the living room.

"Daaad!" you exclaimed, hoping that Remus would talk some sense into him.

"Sirius" came Remus' calm voice. "Come here, don't be a baby"

But before Sirius could protest, the door opened on his own and you and Sirius froze. But it wasn't Fred. It was...

"Uncle James?"

James flashed you a bright smile as your arms slowly loosened from around Sirius' body. The two men exchanged a high five and James looked at him worriedly.

"Am i late? Has he arrived yet?" he asked and you looked at him confused.

"Who?"

James turned to look at you with an obvious expression. "Your boyfriend, sweetheart. Of course!"

"Of course?"

"Of course! Harry told me that you are dating Fred Weasley and of course, as your favorite uncle, i absolutely want to meet him!"

Your eyes widened, while in your head you were already devising a plan to kill Harry the snitch without ending up in Azkaban. You turned to look at your father in shock.

"Did you tell him to come??" you asked.

Sirius shook his head with a smirk and raised his hands. "Your father and i have nothing to do with this, darling. I swear"

"Oh my god…" you muttered, turning to walk back into the living room. "Oh Salazar..."

Now you were panicking. You knew nothing about it, Fred knew nothing about it! What would he have thought if he had seen James too? Maybe he would have thought that you lived in a family of overprotective dramatic crazy relatives and he would have been scared and wouldn't want to deal with you anymore and-

The fireplace in the living room suddenly lit up and the green flames blazed for a few seconds until a person came out of them and you and Remus, who was sitting on the couch, opened your eyes wide.

"Good evening chérie"

"Uncle Reg??"

Regulus gave you a small smile and in the meantime Sirius and James also joined you in the living room.

"Reggie!" your father exclaimed. "I didn't think you would actually come"

You quickly turned to look at Sirius, shocked again, while Regulus straightened out the folds of his clothes with his usual calm.

"If my niece has a boyfriend i want to personally make sure that he is a good person and not an idiot like-" Regulus replied, but was cut off.

The fireplace flared up again and another person jumped out of it less gracefully than the younger Black.

"Where is this little boyfriend? I want to see him right now!"

You almost fainted when you saw him.

"Uncle Barty?!"

He opened his arms wide, coming to hug you with a smile. "Oh my little viper, look at you. You're already bringing home your boyfriend, you're really growing up"

You didn't return the hug, still shocked by the presence of your uncles who had crashed at your house without warning. After a few seconds you silently backed away.

"Darling, are you okay?" Remus asked you, standing up from the couch and so everyone's attention was on you.

But you backed away and alternated your panicked eyes between your parents and your uncles, who were looking at you in confusion.

"No no no! I'm not okay at all!" you exclaimed nervously as you looked at Remus and then set your gaze on Regulus. "Uncle Reg, no offense but why are you here??"

Regulus didn't take offense at your words and remained calm as he took off his jacket to hang it on the coat rack.

"Sirius told me that this evening we were going to have a family dinner to meet that scoundrel who stole your heart, my dear. And i want to make sure he's not a criminal"

"It's the truth, i swear i only invited Regulus" Sirius continued, raising his arms in surrender, looking at you slightly sorry for the panic he had caused in you.

"Come on little viper" Barty then interjected, shooting you a smirk. "We all know that without me this evening would be boring. And if Reggie wants to meet your boyfriend, then i absolutely MUST meet him too"

You let out a loud sigh and ran a hand over your face desperately. Then you started walking back and forth along the living room carpet, muttering "What do i do now? What do i do??", while your relatives looked at you strangely.

"Honey-" James tried to say, taking a step towards you, but suddenly someone rang the doorbell again and you all froze. And when your parents and uncles were about to run to open the door, you blocked their path, opening your arms wide.

"Don't you-dare-open-that door!" you threatened them, looking at them one by one, and then lowering your tone of voice to make it more severe and threatening. "And i swear to Godric that if you scare him away i... I... I don't know but don't try, okay? Am i clear?"

Everyone nodded silently and you rushed towards the front door. You fixed your hair and took a deep breath, praying to the four founders that everything would be okay. Then you reached for the doorknob and opened the door, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw Fred's bright smile.

"Hi" he said.

"H-Hey" you responded nervously.

"You look beautiful" he told you and you smiled embarrassed.

"So do you"

It was at that moment that your eyes fell on the small bouquet of flowers that Fred was holding in one hand and he noticed it too.

"Oh! Um..." he handed you the flowers. "These are for you. I hope you like them"

You took the flowers gently from his hands and felt your cheeks heat up.

"They're beautiful" you said, holding them close to your face to smell them. "Thank you"

Fred smiled and leaned forward to give you a small kiss on the lips and you let him. But you realized too late that perhaps you should have stopped him from doing so, because you next heard whispered voices coming from behind you.

"You little red-haired brat, how dare you kiss my daughter in my house?"

"Sirius!"

"He got her flowers though"

"Tch, that's the minimum don't you think?"

"Would you all shut up??"

You turned around and saw the heads of your parents and uncles peeking out from behind the wall stacked on top of each other, intent on spying on you. You gave them a murderous look and they walked away in fear, heading towards the dining room.

"Looks like we'll have some company" Fred chuckled nervously.

"Forgive me" you murmured, looking at him awkwardly. "It's just that my uncles are a little protective of me and when they heard you were coming to dinner they decided they wanted to meet you in person"

You let out another sigh, lowering your head to hide your face in the flowers. "I'm so sorry"

"Hey don't worry, it's no problem" your boyfriend reassured you, placing a hand on your cheek to lift your face. "I'm not scared of anyone. I'm ready to face any member of your family"

You smiled, rubbing your cheek against his palm. "Thank you Fred, i appreciate it. But if they cross the line i'll throw my broom at their head, i swear"

The tension was growing visibly in that room. You were afraid that the slightest mistake would cause all hell to break loose.

"So..." Barty said slowly, looking Fred straight in the eyes. "You're Gryffindor"

Sitting opposite you, Fred looked at you for a split second, then flashed a nervous smile at Junior who was sitting to your right. "Yes sir"

"Tch" Barty cackled arrogantly. "And i bet you're proud of it too, right?"

Both you and Regulus, sitting to your left next to Sirius at the head of the table, shook your heads with a sigh, while James, who was sitting across from Barty, next to Fred, gave him a small kick from under the table, mimicking a "Quit it!" with his lips.

"Forgive him" you interjected, looking at your boyfriend with apologetic eyes. "Uncle Barty does this with all Gryffindors, it's not you, really. He even hated my parents and Harry's when they were in first year haha"

Barty rolled his eyes and Remus, who was sitting on the other side of Sirius, smiled slightly and nodded in agreement with what you said as he continued to eat.

"It's no problem, i understand what he means" Fred replied, giving you a reassuring smile, then looking at Barty. "I'm very proud of my house. Just like you Slytherins, but also Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws"

Barty chewed his bite slowly and narrowed his eyes at him, knowing full well that the brat had the same distrust of him as Slytherin. But what he didn't know was that Fred only refrained from retorting because he was a member of your family and didn't want to make a bad impression and let you down.

"Fred" Regulus then interjected, with his usual calm and rational tone. "How old did you say you are?"

"I'm 17, sir. I'm in my last year of school"

At those words both Regulus and Barty froze as if they were two marble statues and both looked at him with icy eyes.

'Crap' you thought.

In fact, your parents and James already knew Fred, as he was Molly and Arthur's son and Harry's friend, but Regulus and Barty didn't even know how old he was.

"Oh" Regulus said, slowly. "You're older than my niece. I didn't know that"

"Only by two years Uncle Reg" you retorted, turning to your uncle and trying to smile at him. "There are couples who have a much larger age gap, this is not a problem"

"Of course honey, you're right" Sirius reassured you. "But you know how we are, if our little girl tells us she's going out with an older boy we get worried"

"I hope you're treating my little viper like a princess, Weasley" Barty said menacingly, pointing his fork at him. "You're both teenagers and teenagers like you, especially boys, do a lot of stupid things"

"I just hope you don't do what Junior did at your age..." James muttered, looking away. "In that case it would really be a problem"

You turned to give Remus a panicked look, begging him to help you. But before your father could order everyone to stop the interrogation, Fred put down his cutlery and stood up.

"With your permission" he said, causing everyone to fall silent. "I would like to say a couple of things too"

Barty crossed his arms and sank back into his chair as Regulus wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking at him sternly. James and Remus stared at him patiently, while Sirius observed him from behind his glass of wine, which he was still sipping.

"I knew i would have to face Y/n's family sooner or later and that made me very nervous" Fred began, looking at them one by one. "But i won't be intimidated by any of you because i'm here to prove that i want to date her"

You felt your lips slowly curve upwards on their own and Remus and James smiled too.

"I am very, very in love with her and i always treat her with immense respect. Not like a princess, but rather like a queen" Fred continued, his eyes resting on Barty at that statement. "And both she and i can assure you that if i didn't do this, Harry who is her best friend, would've already sent me to the other world. But since it hasn't happened yet, then i think i'm doing a good job. And i honestly believe there are even worse people out there you should be worried about"

Then Fred looked back at you and you could see his red cheeks, which matched his hair, while on his lips he had what all his friends described as his usual lovesick smile.

"Yes i'm a troublemaker, but i would never hurt her and i always try to keep her out of trouble. I care about her a lot okay, and i consider myself the luckiest man in the world to know that this wonderful girl really feels the same. And i hope that all of you who are her family, don't spend the rest of your life hating me just because i'm in love with her"

He sat back at the table and everyone remained silent for a few good seconds. Your face felt like it was on fire and you didn't know what to say after everything Fred had said. You just knew that you had no doubts about the feelings you had for him.

Suddenly, someone sniffed and when you turned to look at who it was, you saw to your surprise that Sirius was wiping his napkin under his eyes.

"Siri, are you... Crying?" Regulus murmured, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Sirius shook his head, looking at him with red eyes.

"O-Of course not! Do you think i'm going to cry over the romantic speech of a teenager in love with my daughter?? Absolutely not!" he retorted and then blew his nose.

Remus patted his shoulder and flashed you a smile, but then he noticed that James was also rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes.

"Prongs, you too??"

James shook his head, looking at him with a pout. "I-I'm just crying because Sirius is crying, okay?? I'm very empathetic"

Barty grimaced.

"You're both disgusting, you're making me lose my appetite"

The two who were crying glared at him, while you and Fred exchanged an amused look.

"I say we all understand that your relationship is serious" Regulus then said with a small smile, alternating his gaze from you to Fred. "You're a good boy Fred Weasley so as far as i'm concerned, you have my approval" Fred smiled at him happily.

"Thank you Mr. Black, i really appreciate it"

"But..." the smile fell from Regulus' lips, and he looked your boyfriend straight in the eyes with an icy gaze. "If i find out that you made my niece suffer, i'll be happy to make you experience tortures you've never even heard of. I've done a lot of research, you know?"

Fred swallowed nervously.

"Uncle Reeeg…" you called back, making the man turn towards you.

"You know i'm joking, chérie" Regulus told you, changing his expression again to give you a small smile as if nothing had happened. "Let me scare him a little, that's what us Slytherin uncles are for, isn't it?"

James leaned towards Fred.

"He's just joking, don't worry" he murmured next to his ear. "Or at least i think... Just don't make him angry, okay? Regulus is scarier than Sirius, for your information"

Fred nodded fearfully, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip of water to release the tension.

"Your kind words touched us Fred, especially Sirius here" Remus then said with a smile, nodding towards Sirius and continuing to hold his hand. "We're sorry if we were a little aggressive towards you. We were just worried about our daughter, you know?"

Fred nodded understandingly. "I understand. I would do the same if it were for my daughter. If i'll ever have one..."

"Hey!" Sirius said, pointing a finger at him. "Be careful with what you say, Weasley"

Fred looked down, making Remus and Regulus smile amusedly. You stretched out a foot under the table to touch his ankle and when Fred looked up at you you smiled sweetly at him, to let him know that he apparently succeeded in his aim of winning over your relatives. The worst was over and the evening would certainly continue for the better.

"Unbelievable..." Barty murmured, running his fork across his plate to play with his food absentmindedly. "One day my little viper comes home with her boyfriend and the next day she'll get married to him and the day after that we'll see our grandchildren with ginger hair running and screaming in the garden"

"JUNIOR!" "Uncle Barty!" you all exclaimed in unison.

"What?? What did i say??"

GUYS DO YOU THINK I SHOULD ADD EVAN TO THE SLYTHERIN UNCLES GANG?

[chillentertainer]

thinkin' abt a little john wick conclave au where thomas lawrence is an aging assassin who keeps trying to retire but then is forcibly brought back for "one last hit" (first said to him half a dozen hits ago). lawrence is tired and depressed and he might be really good at his job (and that might be the only thing he's good at) but that Saddens him. because is his only purpose in life to be a Butcher?

not to mention he just recovered from prostate cancer and is now thinking a lot about the afterlife and god and sin etc etc. he's sure he's destined for hell no matter what he does now. is there even any point in changing?

one day he's in rome, surrounded by all these churches. and he enters one. he goes into a confession booth. every week, he confesses minor sins that turn into lovely but frivolous discussions with the anonymous priest, who lawrence can only identify through his gentle voice and bright, easily elicited laugh that reminds lawrence of morning birdsongs. over the weeks, this blossoms into a strange kind of friendship.

finally during a discussion about their favorite kinds of tea, lawrence interrupts the priest's recommendation of kahwah, which they had so often in their time in kabul, and was so delicious, and they just can't find anything close to what they had here, isn't that a shame, and i beg your pardon, what??

i kill people, lawrence repeats. all the time. i want to stop but i can't. i want to retire but they won't let me. i'm afraid being a murderer is how i spent most of my life, and i'm afraid it's how i'll spend the rest of my years, too. i'm the lowliest of sinners. i'm the evil that should be wiped clean from the earth. if god cast me down into the fires of hell for eternity, again and again, i would gladly welcome it.

and there is a heavy silence during which lawrence tenses, waiting for a horrified outburst or some rage.

but the priest says, with infinite compassion in his tone, you are still here on earth with us. and so god, in his mercy, has given you time to beg forgiveness and find redemption. make amends, however you can. take no more life, not for any reason. you say you want to stop. then stop. i believe you have good in your heart. you would not have come here if you did not.

thomas says, yes, yes i will, i swear on His name. i'm sorry for having wasted all your time these past weeks, i should not have done so.

and finally he says, goodbye. because there's no point in returning and attempting to continue this friendship, not when the priest must be so disgusted and would want nothing to do with lawrence any longer.

the priest says nothing in return and it hurts but lawrence knows he deserves it. he deserves far, far worse, and god, why can't he be punished now or just die and suffer eternal torment, and then, maybe, maybe, his soul could feel some bloody relief. but the priest said, make amends. can't make amends if you're dead.

so lawrence returns to his miserable apartment, to try and make amends, whatever that means. he decides to leave rome and begins to pack. he wanders the streets in a daze and gives all the euros he has on him to a beggar. on saturday, the day he would've gone to confession, he buys kahwah from a bemused shopkeeper.

he returns to find his next assignment on his kitchen counter in the form of a usb stick. he doesn't want to open it. but if he leaves it alone for too long, they'll send agents to track him down and he'll get an earful from aldo. better to open the assignment and fool them now. he'll disappear from rome right after.

lawrence plugs in the usb stick. there's a name he doesn't recognize. he clicks through the research on his next victim that ray had meticulously assembled. there is a video. he hits play. a voice starts speaking. and lawrence spills his hot cup of kahwah all over his keyboard and trousers but he doesn't care because fuck it all, he does know his victim after all.

it's the priest he sat next to week after week, chatting about the merits of herbal medicine and whether agatha christie or arthur conan doyle wrote better mystery novels and about the incompetence of world governments. it's the priest he just confessed to about his true nature, that he wasn't just some englishman adrift in rome, but a cold-blooded killer. it's the priest that heard this and offered him a way out, anyways.

it's vincent benitez.

the video continues, as benitez smiles and waves at a young child, his dark eyes luminescent and kind.

now he has a face and name to the voice, lawrence first thinks, in a daze. he’s even more beautiful than i imagined him to be.

his second thought: what the hell did benitez do to piss somebody off that badly that they want him dead?

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[foggieststars]

Landoscar is moving me these days, can you give me some fic recs pleasee ❤️

of course!! i'm terrible at remembering to bookmark things so i apologise if i forget anyone but in general some great authors to check out who write a lot of landoscar are 1425fivefive, glasscushion, bright-and-burning, higgsbosonblues, reminiscences, chelem . also this list has a LOT of rule 63 so... i hope u like rule 63 anon dflkjgfl

girly girl f1 oscar series by @reminiscenses - Perhaps my favourite girl oscar to date. her and this lando are so NASTYYYYY i am so fucking obsessed with them

opera house series by @reminiscenses - i still need to finish this series but it is sooooo unbelievably good - also girl osc, also love of my life

one step closer and i'm real by @1425fivefive - sex worker lando and f1 driver oscar... they've captured my whole heart

sunkissed by @1425fivefive - oscar and lando meet on a backpacking trip around europe and then . gasp. they fall in love !!!! these two are sooooo meltingly tender and sweet it makes me gooey

wearing nothing but glitter and lashes by @bright-and-burning - SOOOOO horny. SO horny. i love these two FREAKS

put a price on emotion by anon - this one is ft. charles too and it's one of my favourite landoscar dynamics everrrrr explored

how sweet it tastes series by @drivestraight - another series where these two are just so unbelievably NASTY hot for each other and i cannot get enough

he may be your dog but he's wearing my collar by @glasscushion - the sheer genius of this fic. oh my god. like imagine a dog panting with its tongue out. that's me reading this fic

pardon my emotions by @wisteriagoesvroom - girl lando in this is sooooooo <33333333 fawk she is so . yeah

the girls i mean by chelem - like what if we were both girls and we were both in inappropriate age gap relationships and we both cheated on our bfs together. what if

climb up to your lips by emptyhalf - i still need to finish reading this one but it's SOOOOO delicious i am OBSESSED

smokeshow by orphan acc - oscar fucks lando who is wearing a cheerleader uniform. unbelievably good and also horny

carried away by orphan acc - fake relationship shenanigans i LOVEEE

worth the trouble (it was an honour) by @maaxverstappen - i read this fic when i had covid and i full body sobbed for like an hour after finishing it.... very bittersweet and lovely

i say you'll live without it series by @freeuselandonorris - finally some delicious fucking food. landoscar + infidelity WAH

i think that's all for now.... i hope this gives u a mix of stuff to get going with... and please do check out all the authors too there's sooo many good fics by them all but this list would be years long if i recced every fic !!!

[firingstars]

in this life | ch. 5

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you."

warnings: 18+, mdni, brief descriptions on an injury/blood, reader momentarily gets depressed, reincarnation trope, language, mentions of financial instability/being hungry, memories are written with italicizes, no use of y/n, angst, yearning, longing, everyone's alive no one is dead because i said so, alternating pov's

word count: 5.7k

a/n: idk why this chapter was kinda difficult for me to write... i know how i want the story to end and its already written out and ready but idk whats going on the middle of this story is irking me

previous chapter | next chapter

Unknown [10:14am]: What does Traumatic Memory Rehabilitation Science actually entail? I tried Googling it, but I didn't find anything on the subject.

You stared at your phone for a few moments, hiding the device behind your laptop screen. You were in the middle of a lecture, and your professor would definitely call you out if he saw you right now. Of course, it didn’t matter to him that he was going on and on about how his wife was somehow related to this neuroscience class and there must be something wrong with her pathways in her mind for her to leave him. Sometimes you think this class was just an easy way for your professor to be able to rant to people that had no choice but to listen.

You put your phone face down, and pulled up the messages on your laptop. At the very least, you could look like you were taking notes. 

Me [10:17am]: science that focuses on how trauma affects the structure and function of memory, and how the patient’s memories could be stabilized, restored, or rewritten in ethical ways. could be natural trauma or artificial trauma given by outside means

Unknown [10:19am]: Artificial trauma?

Me [10:21am]: wasn’t a huge part of why america didn’t want to give you that pardon bc of what that organization did to you? and your lawyers argued that it wasn’t your mind there?

Unknown [10:22am]: Ah. I see.

Unknown [10:23am]: I didn’t know you kept up with the case.

Me [10:26am]: my grandpa was still around when you were going through it. he would talk my ear off on the phone about how you were being treated awfully by the country and was part of the support groups outside the courtroom demanding a fairer sentence for you.

Me [10:27am]: and it was pretty big news, sergeant. 

Bucky doesn’t respond, and you think you may have scared him off. After saving his phone number officially in your contacts as Sergeant Barnes, you close the messaging app. You go through the rest of your class, finishing off with another surprise quiz that you thankfully knew all the answers to, and head off to grab something to eat before going to the library to study. 

You should apologize to him, you think. It may have been a lot to say all of that, all of a sudden. It could still be a sensitive topic for him, and you may have brought up a bunch of memories for him that you didn’t mean to. You want to hit yourself over the head. Your field of study is meant to help people like him, and yet you just caused issues for him. 

You really could use a shot. Tequila. Vodka. Something strong. But it’s barely noon, and you still have the rest of your day ahead of you. 

You push open the door to the Campus Grounds, and stop in your tracks. 

You didn’t scare him off. 

Your eyes fall on his figure almost instantly. Buckty’s wearing that same leather jacket that he always seems to wear. He looks a little cleaner today, beard a little shorter than the last time you saw him. The dark circles under his eyes are lighter, an indication of more sleep. His shoulders aren’t wound up too tight either.

And he turns to you, as if he’s been waiting for you this entire time. Your heart flutters as caterpillars hatch from their cocoons and turn into butterflies in your stomach.

“Doll,” he greeted. The nickname still makes your mind run circles, but you force yourself back into reality as you focus on his next words. “Fancy seeing you here. Didn’t know you came here, too.”

“At my university’s cafe?” you asked, tilting your head. “The university where I attend school? Spend a majority of my day at?”

Bucky cleared his throat, obviously caught. “Stark told me that the food here was good. I’m expanding my palate…” The man before you pauses, eyebrows furrowing at the menu. “What the hell is a matcha?”

“Depends. Do you want it iced or hot?” you chuckled, stepping into the line.

“How do you take it?”

“Iced, with oat milk, and a pump of vanilla,” you answered. 

Bucky looked a bit helpless at your words, so you repeated the order back at the barista, including two ham and cheese croissant sandwiches to be warmed up as well before giving her your phone number to use your meal points. 

When the drinks come out, you watch as Bucky takes an experimental sip before looking a little confused at the flavors on his tongue before seemingly accepting whatever was going on. You let out a small laugh.

“Not bad?” you guess.

“Not bad,” he agreed, following you as you make your way out towards the door. You hand him his croissant. “What’s your plans today?”

“Studying. We’re towards the end of the semester, and I have finals coming up in a few weeks. I’ll graduate in the winter once I’m done with the upcoming term.”

“Impressive,” Bucky hummed beside you, taking a bite of his croissant. 

“Any Avengers need a therapist?” you asked, glancing at him. Thankfully, he doesn’t look too bothered by your text conversation from earlier this morning. If he was, you were sure that he wouldn’t even be here, still walking beside you right now.

The man chuckled beside you, smiling. “None of them wants to admit that right now.”

“Pity,” you said sarcastically. After a beat, you added, “Sorry. If my message to you earlier was a bit heavy.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “I just started driving, so I couldn’t reply.”

“Ah.” So you were overthinking it. Makes sense. 

“It would’ve been nice,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “If your field of study was finalized and completed when I was first put back out in the world. I think it would’ve been helpful for me to be regulated back into society.”

You give him a small smile. “Sorry about that. Took me a bit to decide what I wanted to study. Took a few years of a gap year before I went back to school.”

Bucky chuckled, and took another sip of his matcha latte. It looked like it was growing on him. Either that, or he just wasn’t picky about food. 

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to help people other than me,” he told you. 

“I hope so. Otherwise all this student debt will be for fucking nothing,” you grunt. Another smaller laugh escapes his lips, and you find that the noise awakens a small flutter in your chest that will keep you feeling warm and fuzzy. 

Your feet come to a slow as you stop at the library commons, and you turn to look at Bucky. He looks back at the building briefly before turning to you, giving you a small smile and nod.

“Well. Happy studying,” he said, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Is that all? You just came here to get some matcha and walk me to my university’s library?”

“I just wanted to see your face today,” he admitted. 

You really didn’t expect him to be so upfront with his words. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent your lips from curling even wider than they already were.

“I would say I would FaceTime you later so you can see my face again, but I noticed that the message bubbles I sent you weren’t blue. What do you have? Android?”

“Uh. Flip phone.”

You stared at him for a brief second, searching his face for the joke. 

There was none.

“I’ll call you later,” you settled on.

“I’ll wait for it,” he replied, letting out a breath of relief.

Adding calling Bucky to the list of things to do every night was as easy as adding something to your nighttime skincare routine. First step: remove makeup with micellar water. Follow up with a makeup balm. Wash your face with a cleanser. Pat dry with a towel. Use a toner. Moisturize. Call Bucky.

The first night had your heart racing on whether or not you should even call him, too. You were pacing around in your apartment. You stared at your phone on your bed as if it was a bomb that you had to defuse within the next few moments. You told him that you would call, but it was past midnight and you just got off your shift. You had no idea what the bedtime schedule was like for an Avenger, but you told him that you would call. Eventually, you decided that you would at least try to call. If he didn’t answer, then you would send a follow up text for an apology.

Bucky answered right away.

“Thought you weren’t gonna call,” is what he said as soon as the line connected.

“Wasn’t sure if you were still going to be awake,” you replied softly.

“You said you were gonna call. I waited.”

You aren’t sure why your chest squeezed at those words. You swallowed thickly, and took in a shaky breath as you clutched the phone tighter in your hands, trying to formulate another sentence to force out past your lips.

“You know I only work night shifts at the diner, right? I always close,” you told him.

“I know.”

“Then you don’t have to stay awake because I say stuff like that. What if I didn’t call you? Would you stay awake all night next to your phone until I called?” you asked. You weren’t scolding him, you weren’t badgering him– you were just a little stressed. A little worried. 

“I knew you would,” he replied. There was so much certainty in his voice. The steadiness. 

“How are you so sure?”

“I just knew you would.” Again, there was nothing in his words that wavered. 

You paused, letting it sink in for a few moments as your heart thumped in your chest. You dug your nails into your palm, allowing the bite against your skin remind you that this was reality, and you were alive at this very moment.

“Do you want me to keep calling you?” you asked in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he said. A pause. “I like hearing your voice, too.”

From that point forth, Bucky continued to answer every single call without fail. Most of the time, each call was answered within the first ring. Sometimes the call went to the second, but never the third. Your calls had never gone to voicemail once. It was almost as if he anticipated your calls every single night.

You began to look forward to every single one of your calls. It became the highlight of your day, the thing that you looked forward to most after the long and stressful day.

By the second week of your nightly calls, you were really appreciating it. He helped you study. You would have your phone on speaker, on your desk beside your textbooks as you pulled out concepts and verbiage from your brain as if you were teaching a lesson to him, and ask him if he understood a single thing that you just told him. Sometimes you would text him your study guides and he would test you, then let you know what you needed to improve on. You were certain that he heard you slam your forehead on your desk several times over the past fourteen days.

Moreover, Bucky was not much of a talker, which meant that he was a great listener. When you were done studying, your phone would be resting beside your pillow as you laid down. The lights would be turned off and you would close your eyes as you talked to him.

It was as if he knew you were drifting off to sleep. His voice would be softer during these moments. Lower, slightly gravely. Sometimes, both of you would get a little bit more vulnerable in your sleepier states. 

“You should really sleep earlier,” he would tell you. “Your health might take a hit if you keep this habit up.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy sleeping,” you confessed to him.

“It’s good for you. Especially with the amount of studying that you do.”

You sigh deeply, pulling your blankets higher up your body. “I know, I know. I just… I don’t sleep well. I wake up and I’m sad. I wake up and I wish I never woke up. And I don’t mean that in a… sad, depressed way– even though it sounds like it. I just want to stay in my dreams.”

Bucky was quiet for a few moments. “You mean the dreams about the soldier?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Does that sound pathetic?”

“No,” he answered without skipping a beat. “It means you’re happy there.”

“Then doesn’t that mean I’m sad out here?” you ask with a soft laugh.

“You tell me. Are you?”

It’s your turn to fall silent. You don’t know how much or how little time has passed in your sleepy state before you finally answer, “I think I’m not as sad since I met you.”

“That’s good. I think I enjoy life a little more, too.”

“Even though all I talk to you about is the ethics and neuroscience of trauma?” you joke.

“I have a lot of trauma myself, so it’s interesting to know how the trauma affects the neural pathways of my brain and the rest of my body,” he responds with a soft chuckle.

“Mm… Just wait until I get to the section on how your muscles hold all that trauma. It’s not just your brain, Sergeant,” you murmur, shifting deeper into your pillow. 

“I have seventy years of muscular and mental trauma. How long do you think that will take to undo?” 

“You can’t undo trauma, Bucky,” you hum. “I can teach you how to live with it, to learn how to regain yourself from the experiences that you’ve been through– but you can’t undo what ultimately has brought you here. Your trauma isn’t you. But what you do with the trauma is what’s important. Do you carry it and let it weigh you down? Do you let it fuel you and all your rage? Or do you let it be the reason to be a better person?”

“I wish you were my therapist when I had to have one,” he tells you after a few moments, his voice soft. 

Bucky doesn’t choose to elaborate on the topic of trauma any further, or tell you more about his past. You already have a decent understanding of what the Winter Soldier is and what he did based on what was leaked to the public years ago. You don’t push him when he decides to brush it off.

You let out a small laugh, smiling into your sheets. “Don’t forget to tell your Avenger friends about me.”

“I think I might keep you all to myself, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I mind that, either.”

Sometimes, Peter disappears without a trace and MJ gets irritable. However, she knows what she signed up for when she became Spider-Man’s girlfriend. She knows that she can’t be too upset with him, though Peter really does try to let her know whenever he leaves. Peter just has a one track mind. He hyper focuses on one thing and forgets everything else. 

Bucky doesn’t do that with you. You got a message from him a few days ago letting you know that he will be busy. You expected it to come sooner or later. You were surprised that it wasn’t sooner. Bucky has a job– a very demanding job. One that you can’t ever imagine yourself being in that world or in that kind of life. However, he still communicates with you, which is more than you can say Peter does with MJ. 

Sergeant Barnes [7:27am]: I will not be able to make our meetings for the next few days. I will let you know when I am back in the city. Will be in Malaysia. My phone will be off. 

Me [7:30am]: stay safe bucky

Sergeant Barnes [7:31am]: Always.

The fact that he calls your nightly calls a meeting makes you smile at your phone. You think he’s cute. His age is also showing from the way that he texts you, but you decide to let it slide. If you think about it realistically, the man is only in his early to mid thirties if you’re doing the math right. You’re well aware he was born in 1917, but with the amount of time that he had lost in between with everything that went on with his life— that is an age gap that you can get behind.

“What are you smiling so wide about right now?” MJ grunted, hitting your hip with hers as she walked by. “Table seven needs refills.”

“I was already on my way,” you shoot back, picking up the water pitcher as you fix your grin. 

You’re overthinking, you’re pretty certain. He’s a friend. There’s nothing more to the calls that have been going on every night since you said you would call him. You don’t hang on to every single word he says like it’s a prayer, and you certainly don’t find yourself lulling yourself to bed to his soft whispers every single night like it’s a lullaby. Your mood hasn’t improved the past few weeks, and you’re not smiling more often. You’re definitely not more energized even though you’re losing more sleep by staying up an extra hour later to talk to him longer on the phone, and lying to him by saying that you truly do sleep that late anyways.

You’re a goner and you know it– and you’ve only seen the man in person a handful of times. You were more than certain that he was haunting your mind more than you were haunting his. 

“You look like shit,” you told MJ once the night was over. “Tonight wasn’t even all that bad.”

MJ glared at you as she clocked out on the computer, and waited for you to do the same so you two could walk out together. Your routes home were the same part of the way until they diverged. 

“Peter’s still gone. Still have no idea where he is or when he’s coming back,” she muttered, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jacket haphazardly. You think she’s crazy for even wearing a jacket in the middle of summer, but you don’t mention it with her current mood. “So yes, I am a little pissed off.”

“Did he leave in the middle of the night again?” you asked, closing down the computer.

“No, he woke me up this time,” she sighed. You two walked out the back, locking the door behind you. “Still, it was really early in the morning and he didn’t explain much before he left. Though, he really can’t ever explain much.”

“I’m sorry, MJ,” you said, a small cringe running through your body. You really can’t imagine what she’s going through.

Though, then again, you’re not even sure why Bucky felt the need to tell you that he was going off the grid for a few days. Or even why he told you where he was going for the mission, either. You were certain that was some kind of classified information if even MJ couldn’t know– if Peter wouldn’t tell her before he left. 

Was it a mistake? Did he mean to tell you all of that information? Or was something going on through his mind that made him accidentally send that to you when he didn’t mean to. Either way, you had more information than MJ, and you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to tell her. You weren’t totally sure what telling her would even do. There would be no purpose in giving her the location. Malaysia was a large place– the Avengers could be everywhere and anywhere. Besides that, maybe Bucky and Peter weren’t even in the same area doing the same mission.

You decided to keep your mouth shut, even though you didn’t feel particularly good about it. Then again, you’ve held enough secrets of your own from your friends over the years. You have a lot of your own issues that they don’t know, and you’re more than certain they will never find out.

Maybe that’s why you feel a certain attachment to Bucky. He knows about your dream soldier boy, and never judged you for it. He brought him up once or twice, too. Bucky knows more about you in the past few weeks that you’ve known him versus the past few years that you have known your friends.

It makes you feel guilty, in a way. Peter has shared his own secrets with you– something that he had no obligation to share with you. It was something that was originally held between the three of them, but he felt that you were important enough to know about it. MJ has some familial issues and has problems letting people close to her, but she still finds herself opening up to you and starting conversations with you more than you start them with her. You’re not super close with Ned, but you know the guy is more than happy to talk to you about any kind of project that he’s working on at the moment. Both him and Peter enjoy spilling whatever information they can spare on whatever work they’re doing.

And yet, you’ve never told them the real reason why you’re studying what you study.

You wish MJ a good night, and tell her to get some rest as your paths split and she heads down her road to her place that she shares with Peter. You make your way down to your own.

New York’s summer nights are muggy. Slightly humid, but better than when the sun is out and beating down on your skin like it’s trying to wear you down. It’s not bad at all, seeing as you’ve lived here for the majority of your life, but you can still see yourself moving out of this busy city and somewhere quieter. 

Away from this nonsense and drama. Maybe you’d be able to run away from your own head if you tried hard enough.

You push the thought away as you push your apartment door open. It’s creaky, and you know you need to spray drown the hinges with WD-40 again.

You toe your sneakers off and hang your purse on the hooks that you nailed to the wall when you first moved in— holes that you would have to fill later on when you eventually move out if you want your security deposit back. Your feet ache against the creaking floorboards that are only slightly dampened by the carpet runner that you put in the entranceway of your apartment. 

You hate this place, as much as you try to deny it. 

You despise the overhead lighting that you never flicker on because it’s too bright, but you also never turn on the various amounts of mood lighting that you thrifted from corner stores because you simply can’t be bothered. You can’t stand the way your landlord sometimes forgets to pay the building’s AC bill, even though you slave away every single day to pay your rent and utilities. You shouldn’t have to suffer for some fucking comfort in your own home. 

You hate the cheap mattress that you barely could afford, that you cried when you bought— not out of happiness, but because you knew you wouldn’t be able to eat real meals for the next week until your next paycheck hit. 

This entire place was a death sentence in your mind. It wasn’t home. It was simply a place to rest when you weren’t running around outside, trying to pretend that your mind was right and your life was stable, and the diagnoses the doctors gave you years ago weren’t looming over your head. 

Your stomach growls, and you know you don’t have substantial ingredients in your kitchen to satiate you. You should’ve eaten more on campus earlier today, and you want to kick yourself for your lack of insight. 

You still drag your tired body to the kitchen to find what you can, ripping open the old fridge. What stares back at you is empty shelves and a half drunk water bottle along with some celery.

You settle for the celery, grumbling to yourself. 

“Maybe I’ll use the ten thousand for groceries,” you mutter, leaning against the counter. 

“Gave it to you so you could use it, not save it.”

Your heart leaps out of your body, and you drop the celery in your hand as you shriek. You turn quickly, looking over the kitchen peninsula towards your living room— in the darkness of your apartment, lit only by the streetlights pouring from your windows, you see a figure. 

He’s sitting on the couch, draped over the armrest. His head is resting against the wall— his chest falling and rising in uneven motions. He looks to be wearing gear. He looks like a shadow. 

“Bucky?” you breathe, your heart still stuttering in your chest wildly. “What the fuck?”

“Hey,” he greets with a grunt, but he doesn’t move from his place on the couch. “Sorry. Needed a place to just.. Lay low.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, moving slowly. 

You go to the windows, closing the blinds and drawing the curtains shut before turning on the lamp. Lay low— you assume no one knows he’s here. You want to interrogate him on why and how he’s in your apartment, but with proper light illuminating him, you find the question long gone and missing from your lips.

He’s injured. Badly.

His vest is ripped at his side, and he’s pressing his flesh hand to it, though you can still see his skin stained with his own blood. His forehead also seems to be gashed, and there’s a deep bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, and his lip is split. You’re not sure of what other injuries he could be hiding under the layers of gear he’s wearing, too. 

“What…” you whispered.

“The drawings are nice,” he said, clearing his throat. You follow his eyes to your coffee table, where your sketches of the soldier man from your dream are haphazardly strewn about. You were going to scan them and post them in the morning. “You’re talented.”

“Wait— no,” you denied. You’re not letting him breeze past the clear issue at hand here. “I need— Fucking. Washcloth?” 

Your mind is short circuiting as you quickly rush through your apartment, turning lights on as you go. You bring your CVS bought first aid kit along with a small bowl filled with water and several other washcloths to the living room, pushing your sketches and other art supplies to the floor to make space. 

You’re on your knees in front of him, gently peeling his hand away from his side to inspect the gash on his side. You’re glad you’re not squeamish from the years you’ve spent in the city, but the wound is deep and angry and red— and you are not qualified for such an injury.

“I am not medically trained. At all,” you tell him, panic flashing through your face. Then you demand, “Why did you come here?”

“You’re safe.”

Your breath stops, just for a moment. Bucky isn’t saying that your apartment is safe. That this area in New York is safe— you are someone safe. In just two words, he’s telling you everything. 

You clench your jaw and dip your washcloth into the bowl of water and bring it to the gash on his side. Your eyes flicker to his face. He never flinches. His muscles don’t ripple in pain. His body doesn’t betray him in a way that yours does when you poke at a bruise that you know you shouldn’t be touching. 

It breaks your heart and soul all the same. 

It’s quiet between you two as you go through three more washcloths to remove the dried blood from his body. Then you open up the first aid kit. You’ve never had to use it before other than for some bandaids. 

You don’t even realize your hands are trembling until his metal hand rests on yours. You lift your head to lock eyes with his. His face is gentle, despite the amount of pain that you’re sure is racing through his body at this moment.

“There should be a pair of gloves,” he said, his voice even. You blink for a moment before realizing that he’s directing you on what needs to be done. You quickly move. 

You slide the gloves, eyes darting all over the first aid kit you bought. You were paranoid when you bought it– this expensive thing. You weren’t even sure why you got it, when all you used it for was a few bandaids here and there every once in a while. You praised your past self for this very moment now.

“Saline, antiseptic, and ointment,” he continued, and you pull out each corresponding item from the kit. “Help me clean the wound. Use the gauze. After that, try to find something called a butterfly bandage, if you know what that is.”

You don’t fucking know what that is, but you’re not going to voice that out to him right now. 

Instead, you force your muscles to move past the fear in your body. Bucky is still directing you through the entire thing like you are the one that’s injured here– like you’re the one that’s a few seconds from passing out from pain. You want to scream at your own uselessness, but you know that it isn’t true. Bucky wouldn’t have come here if he thought you were useless.

As the bandage goes on, and you tighten his wound shut, he finally lets out a breath and relaxes against your couch cushions.

“Is that it?” you whispered, eyes flitting across his face.

“That’s the worst of it, yes,” he nodded, closing his eyes.

“There’s more?” you demanded, horrified. 

Bucky lets out a chuckle, as if this situation is funny to him. Maybe it is. To him, probably it is. This is just another regular Thursday to him. For you– this is the first time that you’re ever coming close to a situation like this. 

“I heal faster than the average human. I’ll be okay. This one is just pretty bad, I promise.”

You don’t believe him, not fully. You clench your jaw as you clean up the bloodied gauze and washcloths– tossing them into your garbage bin before going into your freezer to grab a few ice cubes to throw into a ziplock bag for the bruise on his face. He takes it without complaint.

Questions are spinning through your head, nagging at you deeply. The words are threatening to spill out of your mouth, and you’re not sure that you can stop it. 

“Is… Is Steve okay? Peter?” you asked. 

Bucky’s eyes flicker to you, eyebrows furrowing at you briefly. “I understand you asking about Steve. But Peter?”

“Spider-Man,” you whispered in correction, swallowing thickly. Recognition dawns on his face as you reveal that you know. Bucky lets out a small breath, a silence settling over the two of you. He doesn’t press for any other details.

“Mine was a solo mission. Everyone’s out doing their own thing right now. Most of them are in teams. Haven’t heard any of the others being injured or hurt.”

Relief fills your body. Your shoulders sag briefly as you move to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him.

“New York is pretty far from Malaysia, Buck… How the hell did you drag your battered body all the way to my apartment?” The question came from your lips before you could think that he may not even be able to answer you. 

“Tracked down the target from Malaysia to the outskirts of New York,” he answered without hesitation. “Didn’t wanna head back into the base looking like this.”

“So you thought that waiting in my apartment like this for me to come home was any better?” you asked, eyes wide.

“Well, I had a feeling that you would just take care of me rather than demand to know the details of the mission first,” he replied, shaking his head. There was the faintest of smiles on his face that you could see in the dim lighting of your apartment.

“Is it okay for me… to know all of this?” you asked wearily.

“You won’t become a target, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he quickly answered you, his voice serious. 

You shook your head immediately. “No– no. That’s not what I meant. Won’t you get in trouble? With… whoever your bosses are?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” Bucky said with a shrug. Then, he looked at you, eyes catching yours. You couldn’t look away, caught in the stormy blue of his face. “You’re not scared?”

“I don’t think you would do anything that could ever get me hurt,” you murmured honestly. You pause. “You’re not afraid that I won’t leak your location to the world?”

The smile came back on his face. “Like I said, doll– you’re safe. I don’t worry about much when you’re around.”

You don’t know how long you spend staring at him, your heart thumping erratically in your chest again. It’s not from the fear of being shocked by a man in your apartment, or the panic that the man is Bucky injured in your apartment. It’s that stupid nickname that your soldier calls you, it’s the way the word falls from Bucky’s lips so casually and easily. It’s as if this was right, for him to always call you this. 

Your apartment suddenly feels whole. Warm. The space that felt empty a few moments ago is taken over with enough joy that you’re certain that you could spend the rest of your days here as long as Bucky continues to look at you the way that he’s looking at you right now.

With trust. You don’t even know why he trusts you. Why he’s so unwavering in his faith in you.

It’s terrifying all the same. You don't think you deserve it.

“There’s this Chinese place that’s 24/7,” you whispered, breaking the silence. “Do you want take out?”

Bucky’s smile grows a bit wider and he nods at you. “That sounds great.”

next chapter | masterlist

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[wakayrd]

Colours and ISAT (spoilers ahead!)

I wanted to talk about colours and In Stars and Time today- I wanted to talk about specifically how colours work in isat and how silly goofy things could look if they could suddenly see colours. Because colour disappearing is something that happened a long time ago, there is a chance that the dye techniques have cahnged. While some things wouldn't change- such as being able to identify snow as white, who's to say the way they make fabrics and threads grey has changed slightly- because if a flower that was previously yellow and a flower that was previously blue separately make the same colour grey thread- who's to say that eventually they're used together to weave a fabric that looks like it's one shade of grey that in fact is patches of blue and yellow together? :)

So... I did a little experimenting. lol. Pardon the way everyone is drawn I was rushing so I could get to the fun part (the colouring of the clothes).

The greyscale version of the drawing is actually just the saturation turned down to 0! I took some liberties (I removed pure black and pure white from the drawing so i could play with the colours more)

If you wanna see more about how I did it (and how you could too) please read more below! teehee :)

So what I did was make a little program. teehee

Please don't mind the stylization of it, but basically you put in a number of lightness (0-255) and it creates a bunch of colours that when put at 0 saturation, produces the same grey! basically you just need to know the lightness of the grey you're going for and it should spit out a bunch of colours! You can find this out by changing to RGB and there should be one value in all three lines that are the same: in this case it's 150 and that's what you'd enter into the program!

if you want to see it, it's here! password is: stardust

I had a lot of fun talking about this; it's something that I talked about while i was streaming because I was so excited by the idea. I wonder if anyone else has thought of this!!! teehee :) If you do fiddle with this please let me know it's so fun I'd love to see what you do!

[pomefioredove]

hiiii can i have a sugar cookie, #19, with whipped cream and candy cane tyy 💖

hello! can i have a sugar cookie, #19, with whipped cream and sprinkles please? ❤❤❤

made an executive decision to combine these prompts because the ideas I had for them were too similar, so you both get a lil something extra on your cookies :P

order #19, sugar with whipped cream, sprinkles, candy cane

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ held (in contempt of the court)

summary: a mysterious meeting with a former friend tropes: royalty au, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to lovers characters: riddle additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, wonderlandish AU

"But I didn't mean to! If I had known to whom the tart belonged, I never would have-"

CLANG!

Two heart-tipped spears clash mere inches from your chest, keeping you from getting any closer to the stand.

"Rules are rules are rules," says the four of diamonds. "Those who don't follow the rules... are fools."

The three of clubs sighs. "You don't have to do the rhyme every time,"

The two take to bickering between themselves, perfectly ignoring you.

"Pardon me," you pipe up. "But I really must be going. You see, I'm trying to find my way home-"

"Your way?" say the club of threes.

"All ways are the Queen's way," the four of diamonds agrees.

"SILENCE IN THE COURT!"

You, the card soldiers, and the jury of curious characters, starts and sways like the sea in a storm of tears.

At the stand, in the judge's seat, swinging a scepter as if it were a gavel, or, more fittingly, a toy, is a child.

You squint. No, not a child, but not a queen, either. A boy.

A boy who looks an awful lot like...

No. No, that couldn't be. You haven't seen Riddle Rosehearts since you were small. He was your playmate, your partner-in-no-crime, as he would have it, until his mother mysteriously pulled him out of primary school for private study.

He was strict, stern, demanding and demeaning, and he was your friend. An awfully sweet friend. But not a queen.

Riddle? A royal? That would be... impossible.

But, then, you had become quite acquainted with the impossible.

He unfurls a scroll longer than the courtroom itself. It spills over the stand and rolls through the room, past your shoes, and into the hall.

"The defendant is found guilty on charges of trespassing, thievery, unauthorized tart handling, and wearing black shoes on a Tuesday..."

"Wha- guilty?!" you cry. "I haven't even been tried!"

He peers over the scroll. "Is that right?"

The card soldiers shrug.

"That can't be-" the Queen quiets, squints, and then smiles. "Oh, it's you."

"Me? But I- you-"

"No backtalk!" he demands. "You are acquitted. GUARDS!"

The four of diamonds and three of clubs reluctantly release you, withdrawing their spears and rolling their eyes. The jury flattens. You suppose everyone had been expecting more of a show.

The boy, Riddle, slips from his seat and descends the stand, each step echoing off the walls of the courtroom and giving him the false impression of grandness. He stops in front of you. He's much less impressive at this height.

You look to the card soldiers for help, but they've gone back to bickering about rhymes.

"You will join me for tea," he decides, commanding the attention of the cabinet with a swing of his scepter.

"But I-"

"AND THAT'S FINAL!"

Out the courtly doors, down the hall, here and there and hither and thither. This castle is like a maze, you think, but Riddle traverses the corridors with ease. He's (apparently) not even paying attention to where you're walking, since he's been going on about the rules for far too long now. You pass a garden with a hedgehog pen, a flamingo pond, and too many tea rooms.

He's smiling as he speaks. "You've just missed croquet, I'm afraid, but tomorrow-"

"-Tomorrow? But I-"

"And tea. Of course," he says, swinging the scepter into his palm. "Oh, I haven't had a guest in so long. It's so difficult to find good company these days..."

He sighs, and then swings right into a study, leaving you scrambling to keep pace. Had that door been there before?

"Make yourself comfortable," he demands, leaving no room for argument. "Sit."

And he means next to him. Not in the tall, lumpy armchair at the desk, but on a plush red bench by the books. You sit, and he hums.

"Now, whatever brings you here?" he asks, pouring himself a cup of tea from a pot that certainly wasn't there a second ago. And before you could answer, "It's so nice to have a guest, you know. I've near gone mad trying to command my mother's subjects."

You perk up. "Ah, your mother is the Queen?"

"Yes, that's right," he says, his expression souring. "But she's been away on business, and so I've been ruling in her absence."

For once, something here makes sense. You nod. "And you've been surrounded by the old crones in the court," Perhaps that's why he was so eager to see someone else. Unless he was just happy to see you.

But that would be... impossible.

"They don't make for pleasant company," he mumbles, pouring out his tea. Instead of splashing on the carpet, it spills upwards and splatters on the ceiling. You stare.

"...Don't bother, I'll see to that," he waves off your wide-eyed concern. "I would never dream of making a mess, but..."

"...But?"

"...I've been rather clumsy lately," is all he says.

You glance at the ceiling, and the tea is gone. Strange. "I suppose I have, too,"

He smiles and occupies his hands with straightening your collar. Was he really so desperate for the company of a peer? Apparently, he was. You suppose you can sympathize. You've been all on your own in this awful place of labyrinths for days now.

Not a peer, then. A friend.

Riddle then reaches for the teacup-shaped table and takes a red rose, the same color as his hair, from the pot that had once been filled with tea, and he tucks it into your tie. A mark of himself on your persons. An unspoken promise not to let go. Not again.

More than a friend, perhaps.

But that would be... well, possible. Very possible, you supposed.

You could fall asleep here. You haven't been tired until just now, all the exhaustion in the world weighing on your muddled mind.

You slump onto his side, and the boy, the prince who's supposed to be queen, Riddle, allows you. His hand hesitates, and then holds your shoulder, taking you in some sort of awkward embrace. Your head rests on his shoulder, and his on yours.

Strange. All of this is terribly, terribly strange.

But perhaps you can accept this strangeness of his, as he's accepted yours.

[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying. 

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him. 

he was… distant. 

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong. 

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door. 

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom. 

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion. 

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris. 

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around. 

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…” 

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face. 

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features. 

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp. 

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched. 

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn’t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways. 

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.” 

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire. 

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”  

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button. 

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs? 

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same. 

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was. 

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.” 

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance. 

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease. 

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in. 

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him. 

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared. 

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek. 

“c’mere…” 

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused. 

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

[deadinthefanfics]

Housewardens x Tamaki Suoh!User

A/N: User is gender neutral in these headcanons ^_^ and Kyoya is here as well

Riddle Rosehearts

☆) At First Riddle did not expect the whiplash of when your flamboyant personality enters straight into Heartslabyul and when you spun him around (Kyoya is shaking his head)

☆) " Oh!! Riddle! You are really Host club material! " You say as you pick Riddle up in your arms effortlessly

☆) " Pardon me WHAT!? " He says as his face flustered up as he tried getting out of your grip but you spin him around squealing.

☆) " Ooh!! You are just so cute!! I could just eat you up!!" You say as you started to make Riddle dizzy and just Trey looking concerned at you and Kyoya just giving you an annoyed glance.

☆) Riddle soon collared and scolded you..

Leona Kingscholar

☆) You at first were intimdated by Leona and made it clear to Leona and would dramatically freak out and which Kyoya had to help you not fear Leona.

☆) But when you did warm up to Leona he did regret it since of your dramatic speeches and which Kyoya just snickered when you did do your dramatic speeches to Leona.

☆) Leona sees you as his Idiot and loves it sometimes when you annoy him and becomes snarky when you do your speeches. To leave you now complain..

☆) He sometimes allows you to pet his ears. But definitely Kyoya can whenever he wants to which is almost likely never.

☆) Will get mad when someone other than Kyoya or him insults them and will go make it out of his way that he can only jokingly insult you.

Azul Ashengrotto

☆) When you first see him, you see just another Kyoya. In which that is now a twisted wonderland Kyoya.. Even if there is Kyoya next to you. You compare those two together since they are just the same thing but different font.

☆) " Say.. Mommy dear.. Are you sure you don't have some hidden identity that you hid from me.?? " You asked Kyoya while he gave you a "are you serious" look.

☆) " (Your name) I do not know who you are talking or what you are talking about- " You then pointed to Azul who was trying to prompt someone to sign a contract.

☆) " Ah I see now.. " Kyoya said as now facing eye to eye contact with Azul not even the slightest bit impressed. " So you two are long lost siblings!? " You made up as Kyoya then shushed you.

☆) You get dramatic flashbacks when you see the tweels. And HEAVILY pointed out to Kyoya of Hikaru and Kaoru. " Are you sure those two dopplegangers are just hiding in diguise as merfolk.?? " You said as Kyoya just gave up and left. " Wait don't leave me!! "

Kalim Al-Asim

☆) Kalim is instantly friends with you. It is just common sense that two extroverted people with their recluse and "I am so over it " friends become friends!

☆) You two are just talking together and the whole NRC thinks you two of some power friendship. Two of the most hyperactive and socialble people come together is like a ray of light that can shine from miles away.

☆) Jamil is just standing off to the side making awkward eye contact with Kyoya.

☆) you two would definitely hug eachother a lot.

☆) Kyoya just gives up and stays in ramshackle every time you mention you are going to go see Kalim. In which you should not drag him out.

Vil Schoenheit

☆) He sees you as Rook but without the hunter and stalking personality. In which he likes you for how confident you are and stylish.

☆) He would enjoy and at the same time be annoyed by your over the top compliments you give him. And which you suggest for him to be in the host club...

☆) " Your skin is so silky and soft! As if your face was crafted to be the definition of museum art of beautiful!! Such artwork needs to be shown of to the world!!" You say as you were shining infront of Vil.

☆) Kyoya also find Vil amusing and instead would be your Rook.. Like the observant and listening part. Since you have Rook's personality and Kyoya is as observant to know about anyone.

☆) You two together can make Vil tremble and want to just have Rook and not a split version of Rook.

Idia Shroud

☆) When he sees you and your face he runs away immediately.. And possibly sends out Ortho to go study you.. And your Kyoya sends back Ortho with a bunch of filework for Idia see.

☆) " Nii-san! (Your Name) Suoh's friend Kyoya Ootori threatened to get a restraining order if you send me out to stalk (Your Name) Suoh!" Ortho said handing the stack of paperwork Kyoya gave to Ortho now to Idia.

☆) " WHATT!!! ALL JUST FOR SENDING YOU OUT!? Why must extroverts be the worse things to ever exist on this planet.. " Idia mumbled throwing the stack of papers in the trash.

☆) When you do see him and actually get an interaction with him he was like fidgeting the whole entire time.. And he is going to combust any moment while Kyoya is just watching Idia, squinting his eyes at him..

☆) If you do make Idia warm up to you he would actually not run away or use an Ipad to talk to you! But still HEAVILY nervous around Kyoya.

Malleus Draconia

☆) When you first saw Malleus you got reminded of Mori Senpai.. Just a dragon version. And which you poke his horns to see if they were real. No fear just curiosity

☆) " So you do have horns.. And you are a fae? Are you sure you aren't.. " You were about to say Mori senpai but Kyoya coughed loudly.

☆) Malleus finds you interesting in general of your flamboyant personality and of how hyper and dramatic you are. But is glad you arent scared of him.

☆) He is slightly worried of how dramatic you are sometimes not getting that you are just being dramatic and silly and sometimes assumes you are serious.

☆) Kyoya studies Malleus since he is a fae to see all about Malleus.

☆) Malleus feels a bit iffy around Kyoya and makes it clear since Kyoya now knows that Malleus doesn't feel happy when he is around him since a whole thunder storm is around. But when you appear, its a sunny day.