#also i am caught up through derision!

[clarkgriffon]

one gifset per episode → deflagration

#mlseries #mledit #ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybugedit #creations #scarabella #kitty noir #alya cesaire #zoe lee #zoe's character: :| #zoe's character now that she's explicitly queer: *eyes emoji* #look i don't normally condone changing your tune on a character just because queer. but in this case it gave her depth god bless #also i am caught up through derision!

[satansapostle6]

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Violence. Smut. Oral(both receiving).

“Meet the Fuckers”

“French Inhale”

“You’re so stupid,” Sara laughed happily.

“You’re so mean!” Rodrick Heffley complained.

“Am not,” she rolled her eyes derisively.

“Are too,” Rodrick teased as they lay together on his bed.

“Maybe you’re just sensitive. Did you ever think of that?” she questioned.

“Wow,” Rodrick scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean it,” she assured him jokingly, ruffling his hair as he just stared at her with admiration.

“…I forgive you,” he sighed after a long pause.

He smiled with his eyes closed and everything as he nuzzled his head into Sara’s hand as she cupped his face affectionately. The two of them had just finished splitting a joint and three bowls between them out Rodrick’s window, and both were in a comfortable, relaxed mood.

However, for Rodrick, after a certain amount of weed, ‘relaxed’ tended to mean horny as long as Sara was there. He didn’t know why, but this time, it was something about the way the warm afternoon sunlight indirectly hit her face as it shone through the window. In that light, and every other light, Sara just looked absolutely beautiful to him, beautiful to the point of being surreal.

“Rodrick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you roll another blunt?” she asked sweetly.

“Mhm,” he nodded automatically.

From the way that he spoke, she knew he would’ve done anything she asked, with the utmost enthusiasm. He rushed himself so that it wasn’t long before he and Sara were sitting by the window, taking turns blowing smoke out of it. He watched her as she did a masterful French inhale, thick cloud of smoke trailing from out past her lips up to her nose.

She beckoned him forward, taken with his air of innocent obedience as she took a deep hit, carefully breathing the smoke into his mouth as he felt a rush of ecstasy. Rodrick let out a long sigh as he blew out the window, the two of them both in a state of romantic euphoria as they returned to lying on his bed together, laying flat on the mattress like one big blanket.

Sara smiled with amusement at her boyfriend’s admiration of her, moving in to kiss him. He chuckled softly into their kiss as he softly connected his lips to hers, the warmth between them causing him to moan slightly, completely unexpected as he tried to cover it up with the clearing of his throat.

But Sara had already caught on on her own, letting out a soft ‘hmm’ as she began to test him. The amount she’d smoked was also somewhat affecting her, but not quite in the same way as Rodrick. As she leaned in to kiss him again, she angled her body more towards his, hand creeping onto his thigh as he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Baby,” Rodrick gasped, gulping loudly. “I’m so turned on right now,” he confessed breathily.

“I know,” Sara whispered, fully aware that she was completely in control.

Although Rodrick liked to pretend otherwise in front of other people, Sara was the one who wore the pants in the relationship. Everything was determined by her; Rodrick’s world revolved completely around her. She knew this, of course, and tried to reward him for his affection as often as possible.

Rodrick moaned again softly as Sara’s hand slid up his pants, gently palming the one place where he needed her. She enjoyed his desperation as he tried to keep up with her kiss, gasping in a flustered manner as she seemed to be massaging him gently.

“Sara,” Rodrick stared at her in awe as a hard bulge began to appear.

He just laid there, a dumb expression on his face as the palmed him through his pants. He couldn’t even think of anything better to say; he was too excited, eagerly anticipating her next move.

“I know, baby,” she nodded, “I know.”

“Sara…”

Rodrick locked eyes with her in desperation as she gripped him, hard.

“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Hmm?”

“I need it, baby,” he begged, “Please?” his voice hitched in his throat as he spoke.

She watched, thoroughly entertained, as he looked at her with the most helpless expression left on his face.

“Even just a little bit…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” she promised him, crawling towards him on the bed as she stopped to unzip his jeans.

Rodrick watched her blankly, no longer feeling like begging her as he just sat back, allowing her to completely take control. He was so high and so horny, he didn’t even feel like pretending he wanted to win this battle of control.

“I got you, okay?” she reassured him, pulling his pants down.

He nodded silently, looking at her with complete and utter trust as she helped take his pants off and slid his dark grey briefs down. His eyes widened as his erection finally sprang free. Sara leaned forward, wrapping her fist tightly around it as she slowly pumped up and down, watching him as he stared at her expectantly.

“Aw, so pretty,” she complimented him as he nearly blushed. “Look at you…”

She grinned as she pumped her fist up and down, pace picking up as he began to breathe with his mouth agape. He struggled not to let sound escape, but she still picked up on this.

“Aw, so excited and I haven’t even gotten to sucking yet,” she remarked.

“You—” Rodrick had to stop himself as he felt it twitch. “You’re gonna suck it?” he asked her almost stupidly.

Sara was amused at his slight lack of experience. Rodrick had done things before, but not consistently enough to understand the way these things worked right away. He looked at Sara gratefully as her stroking grew more intense.

“Yeah, baby,” she told him. “You want that? Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Rodrick gasped, his voice more of a whisper than anything. “Oh… Fuck!”

His mouth was left agape as he silently screamed, the sensation currently feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The warm and wet feelings were all he could concentrate on as he saw nothing but blonde hair and perfectly lined eyes below him.

“Feels so good,” he said in a husky whisper. “Fuck, baby, my shit’s on fire… In a good way,” he thought, highly aware of his own strangeness.

He let out a surprisingly high-pitched gasp, sounding more and more like a porn star as she went on.

“Sara!” he yelled her name as his fists clutched the sheets in excitement. “Sara…!”

He groaned involuntarily as he felt her hands squeezing his thighs, a feeling which was, for some reason, incredibly heightened.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t take it anymore, I need to come…!” he whined. “Please, baby… Lemme be your little porn star!”

The surprisingly cold hands gripping his thighs tightened their grip as Sara looked up at him with her eyes narrowed in victory, resisting a smug chuckle as she felt it shooting down her throat, swallowing with a sick enthusiasm.

“Ohmygod!” he panted, eyes squeezed shut, “Ohmygod!”

Rodrick was in shambles as Sara lifted her head, grinning as she wiped her arm across her lips, going to sit on his still half-hard dick. He smiled almost in relief as he realized she was playing the long game, a phrase which Sara would’ve felt aptly described what he had going on.

“Come here, baby,” he said impatiently, pulling her down towards him, planting a needy kiss on her lips. “Mmm... I love you,” he raved.

Sara’s response was nonverbal. She grinned further into the kiss as she grabbed a fistful of his hair, making him gasp lightly. He looked at her in shock, waiting impatiently for her to do something else.

“Baby?” he said meekly.

“What.”

He found her dominance alarming, as all the blood rushed to a single part of his body.

“Can I lick your pussy?” he asked hopefully. “Please? Pretty please?”

High on his love, she needed no further explanation and tossed what remained of her clothes over her shoulder as she positioned herself on top of him. Lazy as he was, Rodrick was set on being on bottom.

“Come here,” he huffed, “Lemme show you how much I love you…”

He replicated her earlier treatment of him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he pulled her down on top of his face, groaning at the feeling of her. She sighed, content as he instinctively sucked on her clit, needing to give her the most euphoric feeling of gratification possible.

She felt his warm hands moving all the way up from her thighs to her breasts, grabbing and pawing at anything he could. He grumbled and moaned all sorts of nonsense into her as he kitten-licked up and down, knowing exactly which sounds of hers meant to keep doing what he was doing.

Sara threw her head back, quite literally riding out the high, desperately thrusting into his face. He was living for all of it. She sat up for a moment to give him a break, watching as he pouted.

“Why’d you take it away?” he complained breathlessly. “I want you to come on my face.”

He had gotten pretty carried away. She giggled at his sweet pouting, leaning down to kiss him as he eagerly kissed back. Unexpectedly, Rodrick used her pleasure to take control for a brief moment, quickly and lightly flipping her over as he buried his face in her neck, planting soft, wet kisses all over her neck as she sighed. His lips trailed all over her naked body, lingering the whole way down.

Her skin truly felt as if it were on fire as he slowly kissed the inside of her thighs, chuckling to himself as he watched her hips instinctively bucking upwards, in need of some relief. Rodrick grinned as his face hovered over hers for a moment, distracting her with a charming smile until she suddenly felt two long fingers slowly entering.

She moaned quietly as he returned to his comfort zone between her legs, licking long stripes up her pussy as his fingers rapidly pumped in and out of her. She sighed as aggressively kissed her clit, taking a moment to spit on it before lapping it back up again.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, sighing as she prayed for the world to end at this very moment. Her breath hitched slightly as he suckled on her swollen clit, suddenly bringing her to an unexpected but welcome climax as he groaned hungrily into her body.

The sudden head rush of pleasure made her laugh aloud as she wrapped her legs around his head, respecting the eager way he held onto them like his life depended on it. Rodrick moaned excitably as he lapped up the wetness, taking his time to lick all over her thighs as she finished on his face. He looked up at her with a grin, feeling rewarded as he jumped onto the bed beside her.

Sara carefully wrapped her arm around him, feeling his soft black hair as he burrowed into the space adjacent to her body. Eventually, the two drifted off into a peaceful nap as they hid themselves beneath the covers of Rodrick’s bed. Sara turned onto her side as Rodrick lay behind her, spooning her as he felt her butt poking into him as an act of comfort.

-

Kids

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x reader #doawk rodrick #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley smut #devon bostick #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x y/n #rodrick smut

[yanderecrazysie]

Hihi! If your fine with it, Can I request part 2 of anonyance? I swear I can’t find Yan!Futakuchi fics anywhere in tumblr give my boy some love too 😭

Also can I be 💭 or 🥞 anon?

I am more than fine with it, my precious anon! And I don’t really keep track of anons officially, but you can be either of those!

And this is more than a drabble than anything.

Title: Annoyance (Part 2)

Pairings: Futakuchi Kenji x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing

Summary: You’ve always found Futakuchi annoying, but he’s only gotten worse since you caught his attention.

Part 1: here

annoyance

/noun/

a thing that annoys someone; a nuisance

“That was a great first date, right?” Futakuchi asked, a smug grin spreading across his face. “I rocked your world, didn’t I?”

“It was alright,” you said vaguely.

“Alright?” Futakuchi spluttered, looking highly offended, “Stop being stuck up and admit it- you loved this date.”

“Stuck up?” Your voice raised.

“That’s not what I-” Futakuchi looked frustrated, running a hand through his hair. You had to admit, he was handsome, especially all dressed up like he was.

But God almighty, was he annoying.

The date had been nice- the restaurant he had picked was fancy, but not too expensive. He had paid the bill with a grin on his face that just begged for you to tell him how impressed you were.

It was the talk during the meal that you truly didn’t like. Futakuchi was infuriating. He spent the entire time talking about how great he was and all of his accomplishments. He barely even took a breath, much less a goddamn bite of his food.

The dinner lasted forever because of his incessant yapping, but you managed to tune him out a half hour in, focusing entirely on your meal. He never once even asked if you were enjoying yourself.

“Listen, the date would have been more than ‘alright’ if you had just shut up about yourself,” you explained.

Futakuchi opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it again. He looked genuinely at a loss, as though he couldn’t believe you truly didn’t enjoy your date with him.

“Well, I have to go,” you sighed, turning away from him. He grabbed your wrist.

“Where are you going? I have to drive you home.”

“No, I’m just going to grab an uber. Thanks for tonight, I guess.”

Futakuchi’s eyes flashed and when he next spoke, it was through gritted teeth, “Why are you making this so difficult? I’m doing this for us.”

“Us?” You couldn’t hold back a derisive laugh, “What ‘us’? There is no ‘us’.”

His grip on your wrist tightened until it was painful, “You threw that ball at my face, remember? You’re the one who started this.”

You managed to yank your wrist from his grip and glared at him, “What the hell is wrong with you? Listen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown the ball at you.”

Futakuchi made another grab for your arm but you stepped out of his reach. He pulled his lips back into a sort of snarl, and glared at you, “This is your fault, so take some fucking responsibility.”

You threw your hands up into the air, “I just did, you stupid asshole.”

A sudden vulnerability etched its way across Futakuchi’s face as he reached out for your arm once more, gentler this time, “Look…just…”

He looked up at you with watery eyes, “You don’t have to love me right away, okay? I just… just please stay by my side for a while.”

You hated the part of you who was a sucker for sensitivity. You nodded reluctantly, “Yeah, fine, I’ll hang out with you. I’m not going to fall in love with you, but I won’t abandon you either.”

Futakuchi pulled you into a sudden hug. A soft smile spread across your face, until he whispered in your ear, “I knew you’d see reason.”

You could practically hear the smugness in his whisper. That soft smile was long gone.

He really was an asshole, wasn’t he?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere futakuchi #futakuchi kenji

[fraudulent-cheese]

OK OK OK SO MY BRAIN HAS BEEN GOING INSANE ABOUT AMICUS CURIAE SO I NEED TO RAMBLE ABOUT IT!!!!

Spoilers for the fic under the cut (duh), link to read it is here, goooo do that!!!

OK SO. The main conflict am i right

Right now we are in a fluff sweet spot where most of the teams are on friendly terms and the main 6 aren't in conflict. However considering what the author has posted to their TD blog recently, it's definitly not staying that way.

Hell even in the current chapters it's probably not staying that way, considering Courtney's 100% caught on that there's something going on between Noah and Alejandro, and in return Alejandro's detected Courtney's crush for Emma.

So yeah! Im predicting that's gonna be the cause of the big rift that happends between the best friends; both of their feelings are going to get in the way of the win eventually in a big way. Maybe Courtney will get distracted by Emma or Alejandro's going to try to keep the Pros in the game in a way that handicaps the Best Friends for the challenge, and it'll blow up in their face, and past events are gonna be brought up and they're gonna get HURT.

I think Courtney's main reasons for being annoyed at Alejandro and Noah's friendship (outside of Courtney would like to win thanks) is her wanting Alejandro to not get hurt; Noah's already betrayed him (from his perspective), she wouldn't want him getting stabbed in the back again. I dout he'd do that, but Courtney doesn't know that!

Also whenever she'll figure out it's romantic, she's certaintly going to discourage Alejandro to go for it during the show. Dating on Reality TV is not a good idea, they both have negative experiences with it, Courtney especially. Neither would want to go through that again, so conflict arising from it makes sense.

Also also, Courtney might be afraid of losing Alejandro,,, she's lost friends due to relationship drama in the past, hell she's still struggling with the after-effects of her trust being broken so many times. So seeing Alejandro be genuine with someone else? Yeah she's not gonna react well. Im basing this off the line "Alejandro's supposed to only be genuine with her" Because it says ALOT. To me.

This is 100% aromantic projection hour but Societytm constantly pushes romantic relationships as more important than platonic ones, an impression reinforced in media and especially tabloids - Courtney and Alejandro have already been mistaken for a couple in this fic by one of the main characters due to their closeness - so i wouldn't be shocked if either had internalised this and fears losing their one actual friend because they're crushing on someone else.

I don't think Alejandro's expressed much derision for Courtney's crush on Emma yet? So im not sure the conflict on his end would come from that. I think his main issue is trying to push himself too much out of a sense of obligation to be performing at his best all the time (especially now at the final 8 teams and non elimination rounds being pretty random so far) + his guilt over previous performances in challenges. It's 100% going to bite him or Courtney (because i dout she doesn't have similar over working tendencies) in the ass in a MAJOR way in an upcoming challenge. That and their respective competitiveness is probably gonna hurt them in a major way.

FINAL NOTE: I have no fucking clue how this can happen if the final POV's not Courtney but it would be so fucking cool if the closing lines of Amicus Curiae were a parallel to the "This is a terrible idea" that Courtney kept repeating in chapter 1, you know bring it full circle and stuff.

God this post is long

#cheese posting #amicus curiae #oh god i accidentally published this because my phone was being stupid #string cheesing #alenoah #courtnemma #courtemma #td alejandro #td courtney

[tamelee]

I had stopped being able to read the naruto manga way back near the beginning of shippuden (it was still coming out at the time) due to the store I had access to not bothering to carry the volumes anymore (man am I old 🤣) then different fandoms caught me and years go by so my mind has the sasuke naruto meeting with sasuke draping himself over naruto to threaten him and sakura being competent with healing kankuro and fighting sasori... so I was...confused when I recently fell back into the fandom why sakura would even be with sasuke...as I felt mature medic nine fighter girl would have understood that she'd had a crush and moved on.

Like, Naruto and Sasuke had so much stuff between them I get why they haven't let each other go.

So it seemed weird as hell that sakura would even still "like" sasuke... as her original feelings stemmed from childish "he's so cute and broody" which is okay in a 12 year old girl but less okay as an adult woman...

The naruhina I though, ah, he and hinata must have had many moments in all the parts I've missed, and bonded...oh...she just...endangers herself and confesses to which naruto doesn't react at all...and then their married...

As a shonen manga I figured we wouldn't get a blatant narusasu ending (even though they are the best) ...I'm even a cheery multishipper often for characters I like but...it was so sad. I'd of been happier to have it end with shion just randomly turning up to have naruto keep his baby making promise...

Anywho sorry for blathering on.

I adore your art as well, it's super pretty and I need all the naruto x sasuke content to heal my shipper soul...

Hi @roseunspindle ! Oh gosh!! You couldn’t read past the reunion scene??? I would’ve gone crazy 😭

Yeah, Sakura never matured in that department. Even in the sequel where she’s supposedly married to Sasuke, Ino derisively says she’ll forever stay a girl in love. Like the story had to spell it out for readers. There is this weird vibe between her and Sarada when it comes to Sasuke.. I don’t even know how to describe it but it’s creepy. Even when there is a kid involved somehow and they speak of marriage, Sasuke gives her no reason to love him romantically and it surprises her still that he showed no concern for her life whatsoever. Sasuke, who expresses through action in most cases, is still as indifferent as ever towards her. 

Sakura has moments where she shows some care for characters, mainly driven by her being a medic, but emotionally, it is bizarre how little she cares about Sasuke and yet, at the same time seems to only care about him... if it involves herself. She doesn’t even question why Sasuke does what he does or tries to understand how he feels. Even when she gets fed little snippets of his pain or the source of that, she doesn’t try to find an answer. In the very end she doesn’t even give a shit about his reason to travel or defend his words regarding "redemption". She felt entitled to an apology while she was the one going up to him with the intention to kill him. Even when he tries to explain why he wants to travel, she just cuts off his words because she wants to go with him regardless of his intentions or goals. I get why some people wanted a development for Sakura where she’d be able to let that crush for him go, but story-wise? That would take a lot from Kishimoto because there is also a lot of insecurity involved too.. And frankly, she's very much a red herring :')

Meh, nh... I have nothing to say. 

Well, SNS-fans often say their story is very tragic. But that’s not just how we feel, it IS a fact that Naruto and Sasuke went from receiving a semi-sweet/bitter-sweet (depends on how you look at it as we got a resolve but not a clear resolution yet) in ch 698/699 to a bitter ending in 700 where they suddenly not only didn’t have what they wanted, but certainly not what they needed either. To combat that in the sequel, they shoved all the problems of the world onto a bunch of aliens... distracting everyone from the hypocrisy of the system. Neither Naruto or Sasuke got to work on the thing they wanted and their internal desires were completely massacred for the sake of these kids. And both of them have shown that if they don’t have what they need, they will fail the thing they ultimately want. Meaning, the Shinobi world will forever stay the same while spitting on their dream for the future and the trauma they had to go through because of it. It’s not even about SNS or the story being Shonen... but the concept, which Sasuke talked about at the end that was supposed to be a vehicle for a better world is completely retconned. 

... but I’m happy that besides that, SNS is still widely and largely celebrated regardless. And that says a lot! I’m happy to hear you like my art 🥰💕 that really means a lot, thankyou so much!! (I’m trying to heal myself through them too ;-;!) 

#asktamelee #roseunspindle #naruto talk #anti naruto ending

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 8

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “You’re just in love with the idea of being in love” and “Do you want me to leave?” squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

With a mere half-dozen words, Sherlock had shattered the fragile dynamic you had so carefully pieced back together for you two. After fifteen years apart… Why would he—? How could he—?

“I am in love with you.”

The words echoed in your head, rippling from end to end of your skull as an earthquake rips through a city. Sherlock was still speaking, one hand on his waist and the other gesticulating, but those six words had submerged you in water—boiling, acidic water—and you heard nothing past them.

“I am in love with you.”

You had been completely, woefully caught off guard by Sherlock’s declaration. He had shown up at your doorstep two days after you had last seen each other—the day you had met Miss Algar together—which had been unexpected as well, though not shocking: Sherlock had taken to showing up whenever he wished, and even Mr Rogers was becoming inured to his abruptness. Having assumed the detective had made headway in hunting down the hitman, you had eagerly welcomed him into your sitting room; your excitement had wilted into worry as he had gotten up from his chair after only a few moments then begun pacing silently. You had only just thought of a tactful way to ask him what was the matter when he had blurted out—

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. We were separated for a decade and a half, I know, but I never stopped thinking—caring—about you, and I have recently understood that these feelings have been of a…have all these years been of a romantic nature. My lady, I am in love with you.”

Blast.

It was a good thing you were sitting.

In love with you…?

The last time you had heard those words, they had been out of the mouth of slimy, toadying Mr Sulyard, back when he had offered for your hand. He had been lying through his teeth. He had known it; you had known it; however, you had also known that your father would have given you no choice but to accept, so you had lied through your teeth right back with a humbly delighted yes. Edmund, “in love with you” as he was, had been good to you in public and anything but behind closed doors.

“I am in love with you.”

To this day, Edmund’s family happily remained ignorant of their son and brother’s blatant derision and cruelty, although they espoused how much they admired your personality and your accomplishments whenever you saw them. Your own father claimed to be pleased with how you turned out and to care about your wellbeing, yet he imposed his desires above all else.

“I am in love with you.”

Even William had never chosen you before his comfort. He had expressed his concern when he had heard of your and Edmund’s engagement, knowing a little of the man’s reputation from Harrow and a lot of your ill-matched disposition. Despite this worry for you, he had not stood up for you, not when it would mean fighting with Lord Coltidge, not when it mattered most to you.

And Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

Dearest, most beloved Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

How could he have forgotten what he had done to make you discredit love, or at least distrust that anybody loved you?

Through your agony, you closed your mouth from where it had been hanging open, then you clutched your hands in your lap to stay their trembling, then you lifted your eyes to finally meet Sherlock’s.

“My resolve to tell you these things hardened when I realised I was struggling to focus through your absence these last couple of…”

He paused his speech once your gazes locked, and when he smiled gently at you, you forgot you were supposed to be thinking of a response. Then he spoke: “Of course, we cannot do aught about it until this case is over.”

You blinked. The utter pragmatism of such a statement within a romantic spiel jarred on you. “What— What do you mean?”

“We must focus on the case, then we may settle all personal matters.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning; we must not let them get in the way.”

And suddenly, sharply, you remembered the pain he had caused you—was, apparently, still causing you—and laughed. It was a too-big, too-loud thing, with haphazard edges and a dangerous echo, and it brought tears to your eyes.

This time, Sherlock blinked at you. “Why do you laugh?”

“Sir, you need not worry about being too emotional during this investigation,” you said, “for I can settle this business matter for you straightaway. It would appear to me, Mr Holmes, that you are simply in love with the idea of being in love.”

At that, he actually scoffed. “That is ridiculous. Why would I want to be in love? It deludes the perfectly reasonable mind; it softens one’s senses, warps one’s thoughts. If I could avoid it, I would.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before speaking to make sure your voice remained even. “That is precisely the reason. Despite your attempts to void your heart of tender feelings, you know you long for a profound bond with the perfect companion—you know you could be happy in such a relationship. Above all, you know you are happy now that you think you have found it.”

“Perhaps you have the right of it,” he said. “Yet would you expect me to rejoice in a shallow bond with an imperfect companion?”

The icy exterior you had pulled around yourself cracked—was he speaking of you and Edmund? Was he truly critiquing you for accepting such a bond with such a companion?

He arched an eyebrow. “Ought I to congratulate myself on the hope of a relationship that would decidedly add wretched complexity to my life?”

The ice broke apart entirely. “Is that why you left me?” you demanded. “Coming to London for me would have been wretchedly complex?”

His countenance darkened. “You left me, my lady. I waited for your return to Ferndell for months—I counted the days, pathetic me!—and in your stead, I received notice of your engagement to another man.”

“I had little choice in that,” you exclaimed, “and I had no ability at all to go back to you. How could I, a young lady with no money and no chaperone, make it all the way down a London street, never mind onto a public conveyance to Shropshire? You, the gentleman, were the one with the power to come to me!”

Shaking his head, Sherlock moved away to stare out the window. Before you could decide whether to stand and follow him, he said, quietly but with a strong and sweeping undercurrent, “What power, petal? I promised you that I would not hold you back. I promised you that I was nothing short of glad that you would get a come-out ball and a curtsy before the queen like all the proper rich ladies do. I promised you that I would happily let you go if you found a proper rich gentleman at some party that suited you better than I. Those promises took all the power I had.”

With a shaky breath, you pressed a hand to your sternum, vain as the attempt was to keep your heart from falling apart. “You… You also promised me that you wanted to marry me, that you would protect and provide for me. You promised me that you loved me, Sherlock.”

He whirled around. “You promised me the same, my lady.”

“And I do!” Your hands flew to grip the armrests at your sides. “That is, I did— I…”

His gaze softening, he stepped towards you. “Petal…”

You pushed yourself to your feet and looked away from him. “What does it matter how I feel or felt? Though I did not need you to rescue me, I did want you to fight for me.” You met his eyes. “That you did not—that the love you felt for me was so easily given up on—is a fact, and fact comes before feelings, does it not, Mr Holmes?”

He frowned. “Do not throw my words back at—”

“They are not merely your words, sir, they are your core values and their consequences! You only commit as far as reason goes; once logic dictates the chances are uncertain, you become uncertain.”

His frown deepened, but he did not respond.

“I do not want someone to choose me when it is sensible, Sherlock,” you said, softly, desperately. “I want to be chosen when it is totally nonsense, through total nonsense. Was it not nonsensical of me to pray for you to show up before the wedding so you could tell my father I had another acceptable option? Was it not downright imbecilic of me to sit and stare out the window and wait for you after Edmund died? Still I did those very things, all the while you…you could not even accept the risk of visiting me to see if I was all right.”

“We…” His voice trembles, you noted with disbelief. “We have another chance now.”

You shook your head, straining on your neck, weighty on your shoulders. “Another chance to be friends, perhaps. But, Sherlock, you are still uncomfortable with coming to me if it means stepping beyond reason, and I… I ought not to ask more of you than you can give.”

“No,” he said, crossing the room in two strides. “No, my lady, ask— Demand everything you would of me, I—”

A knock came at the sitting room door.

You took a moment to consider Sherlock’s pleading look, then turned away and sighed, “Come in.”

Rogers opened the door but barely had time to announce, “Lord Coltidge for you, my lady,” before the earl himself was striding into the room.

“Daughter,” he said, “I care not that you have another visitor; I am your father and you shall speak with me. How could you have stained the Voss family name so recklessly, you—” He stopped short when he finally noticed Sherlock. “Holmes? What—?”

“My lord,” he greeted. “I apologise. It would appear I am her ladyship’s other visitor.”

Your father, brow furrowing, looked between you and Sherlock a few times. “You are here about the case?”

“No,” he replied.

“Yes,” you said at the same time.

Sherlock blinked. “Er, that is, yes, your lordship, I am here about Mr Sulyard’s death. I wished to inform my lady of developments of a…of an idea she gave me some days previous.”

“Is that so?” He turned cutting eyes onto you. “Would this idea be that your husband was seeking satisfaction in another woman’s bed?”

As you flushed hotly, Sherlock stepped in front of you, blocking your father’s view. “Lord Coltidge!” he cried. “Such vulgarity is hardly appropriate in a lady’s hearing, is it? Besides, I can scarcely credit that you would rather shame your own daughter rather than the gentleman who would dishonour his word by breaking his vows.”

You gulped—you had never seen your father turn that particular shade before.

“I think you best leave us now, sir,” snarled the earl.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” retorted Sherlock, sticking his finger in the air with all the confidence of someone who actually had authority to warn anybody here. “Officially, you have no say in this house; it has been her ladyship’s property for a decade.” Then, he turned around to give you his full attention. “Petal, do you want me to leave?”

He was so soft in that moment, in his voice and in his eyes, that you nearly shook your head. Indeed, your heart pleaded for him to remain, for the bubble of safety that came with his presence to not be burst. But he couldn’t remain. You couldn’t afford relying on him in such a vulnerable position—you simply weren’t ready to pick yourself off the floor if you leaned on him and he walked away once again.

“We have had a…trying conversation,” you whispered to him. “Perhaps you would like to go home and relax now.”

His eyes were stormy as he glanced at Lord Coltidge and muttered, “What I would like to do is…,” but they cleared when he focused on you and sighed, “…whatever you would prefer, my lady.”

You smiled your gratitude towards him, but you knew it was cold comfort as he stalked past the earl with an unhesitatingly aimed dark look. He paused at the door to say over his shoulder, “I shall keep you apprised of my progress.”

“Good man,” replied Lord Coltidge, though you knew Sherlock was speaking to you.

You held your breath, waiting to meet Sherlock’s gaze once more, but he quitted the room and closed the door with nary a glance back. Although you suddenly felt more brittle than you ever had, you squared your shoulders and turned towards your father.

“Good afternoon, sir. Please, take a seat. How is it that I have stained the family name this time?”

Thank you for reading. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter lmaooo. I hope y’all enjoyed the Jane Austen and Arthur Conan Doyle quotes? :P Feedback is always welcome!

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

[iibonniee]

Baby It’s Cold (Lee Jooheon x Fem!Reader) [Requested]

I feel like this is one of the first times I've ever actually requested from you and that feels like a horrible sin considering I devour and enjoy absolutely everything you write before anyone even sees it, lmfao. I'm gonna be so unhelpful with this 1K (!!!!) celebration request but Jooheon and cuddles, legitimately that's all I can figure out that I want lmfao. Can be smutty, fluffy, both, idc. I need some Joo cuddles IRL too, if ya wanna somehow magic that as well. 🤭🫣

(I can absolutely find a prompt, btw, if you want something more.... More. 😂😂😂 Just lemme know here or text me or whatever. 🥰)

Also, again, I am so PROUD and excited for 1K! You deserve this and so so so much more and this is the year you get all the wonderful things you've been working so hard for! I love you so much! 🫂🥰🤍

Pairing: Jooheon x Reader

Genre: New Relationship AU, Non-Idol AU

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 998

Tags: fluff, slightly angsty, suggestive, slight somnophilia

Masterlist

Jooheon loved cold, snowy weather. Seeing the world blanketed in white fluff as more of it sprinkled from the sky always filled him with nostalgia. He’d remember days as a kid, playing in the snow with his friends - particularly the girl next door.

“Joo?” As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred in her sleep, brushing her hip against his as she rolled over. He lifted his arm and she curled up against him like a puzzle piece, humming contentedly when he pressed a kiss to the top of her mussed hair. To be honest, Jooheon never thought things would turn out this way.

Kihyun had warned that he’d be doomed to a life of second-best if he never faced his fear of rejection. After suffering through college life - where he watched her date and suffer heartbreak over and over - Jooheon realized Kihyun was right. It’d taken a few shots of whiskey for courage, but he went for it. She’d been standing out on the balcony of Kihyun’s apartment, taking a break from the chaos of Changkyun’s private birthday party.

“Hey there,” he murmured when he slid the door open. “You’re not out here freezing are you?”

She turned to him, pretty face lighting up when she saw who was speaking. “It’s not too bad.” She held up her red cup. “You know alcohol makes me hot.”

He nodded as he closed the door behind him. “Some things never change, do they?” Once he was shoulder to shoulder with her, he took a sip from his own cup. “So where’s what’s-his-face? The pretty model guy.”

She made a derisive noise and rolled her eyes before gulping down the rest of her drink. “Last I heard, he was balls deep in someone’s wife. Might be dead by now.”

Jooheon couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “Another cheater? What the hell, do you have a cheater magnet strapped on your back or something?” He immediately regretted his words upon seeing the way she flinched. Switching his cup to his other hand, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Jeez, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I'm just,” he exhaled as he pulled back, “surprised, yet, not?”

She grimaced. “You can just say I have shit taste in people. I mean, the signs were there. They always are.”

For the life of him, he didn’t see how he could turn the conversation in his favor. Instead, he followed her example and observed the busy city below them. The lights glittered like stars, reflecting in her sad eyes. He wished he could protect her from the pain of failed romances. However, he wasn’t sure she was even interested in him. They’d spent plenty of time together over the years - with others or just alone. There was something there, but was it enough to justify putting their friendship in jeopardy?

It was then that the first snowflake caught his eye. A speck of white fluff fell from the sky and landed on her hair, melting upon contact. He was running out of time. “Oh, look, Joo. It’s snowing,” she murmured holding out her hand. It reminded him of making snowmen with her as a kid. Of trying to sled down a hill only to fall off it, laughing so hard he went light-headed and nearly passed out.

No one ever made him laugh as hard as she did.

Her shoulders drooped. “I guess we should head back in?” She started to drop her hand only for him to place his on top. She looked at him, brow furrowed. “Joo–?”

“Not yet.” He cleared his throat and looked up at the night sky. He was aware of the chill in her fingertips and the way they absorbed his warmth. “Not until I figure out how to tell you how I feel.”

Somehow, he didn’t need to say more. She just knew. Her fingers slipped between his and held on tight. She never let go, not when they went back inside, not even when Minhyuk made a scene about it. It filled him with sour patch kids and pop rocks. When the party started to die down, he offered to take her home but she insisted on staying with him.

She muttered something in his ear as she tossed a leg over his.

“Say that again?” He came back to the present.

“I’m cold. Hold me.” She repeated as she nuzzled her cheek against his chest.

“Oh! Say no more, sweetheart.” He turned over onto his side to face her. She kept her leg over him, hiking it up to his hip as she pulled him flush against her body. Within seconds she was settled and content, falling asleep. He smiled to himself as he pressed down her hair and kissed her forehead again before resting his hand on her hip. Feeling her soft skin under his fingertips reminded him that she’d taken up his offer to wear one of his shirts to bed. With that visual replaying, he became acutely aware of the way her breasts pressed against his body. How her lips grazed the column of his neck.

He cursed under his breath when he felt the first stirrings in his pajama pants. The hand on her hip flexed with a squeeze of her flesh and she made this little sound somewhere between a hum and a moan. Gas on the slow fire, fully consuming him. He tried to avert his thoughts, wanting to fully appreciate this soft, sweet moment, but then her hips were moving against his. A slow grind against his growing erection as her hand pawed at his back.

“Shit.”

Her head tilted back, sleepy eyes unfocused as her lips caressed his jaw. “Joo? Are you awake?”

“Y-yeah.”

She made another sign - this time a full-throated moan that made him shiver as her nails pressed into his back.

“Mmm. They say skin-to-skin contact is the best way to stay warm. Let’s get naked.”

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x smut #jooheon smut #jooheon imagines #jooheon drabble #1k special

[jasperathrifteddoll]

The werewolf as a symbol in Stephen King's IT, a ramble

A fascinating detail from the book I haven't seen anyone talk about is how the symbol of the werewolf appears not just for Richie, but for Patty Uris.

In her appearance in chapter 3, Patty describes the discrimination she has faced as a Jewish person, the expectations that has been put on her by her parents and herself to be successful and 'Normal,' and how the fear has lingered despite her comparatively happy life.

As a teenager she and her date were barred from attending prom for being Jewish, and the details of this event are seared painfully in her mind. The click of her heels on the ground, the sound of onlookers laughing at her, and the dress her mother said made her look like a "Mermaid."

She thinks of the idea of being a Jewish mermaid as ridiculous. Though i am uncertain if this is due to a contrast between a generally loved fairytale being and the perception of Jewish people, or comparison between this perception and the non-human-ness of mermaids. Regardless, the thematic idea of mermaids is strong: to a be a being caught between two worlds, partly a person, and partly an inhuman creature. In common stories, mermaids appear to sailors only showing their upper halves, and so are able to lure them to grisly ends. Already I would say that the mermaid can be compared to the werewolf in it's connotations.

Stanley, who remembers the most out of the losers (aside from Mike) buys books by Bill Denbrough, aware that they were childhood friends. Patty immediately dislikes the novels, considering them frightening and in bad taste.

Though she points out a particular one with anger: a book about werewolves.

Here Patty uses the werewolf as a symbol for the discrimination and fear she has experienced. She may try desperately to conform to the social standards set for her, to become successful, happy and 'Normal,' but the fear of being targeted always exists. This is expressed through her constant worries that others are gossiping about her and her husband, and that their safety and security will be compromised for being Jewish.

And so she thinks of Bill Denbrough and his book with derision, because in her eyes he is a man with no troubles and at the top of the social hierarchy (a view that is mostly true, Evil Space Clown and Childhood Trauma aside), and could never understand the experience of being a symbolic werewolf. Something seen as dangerous, monstrous and inhuman, and something that must hide and pretend, that lives in constant fear of it's own exposure.

And while I foremost wanted to discuss Patty Uris, I also think this is a useful detail to think about when it comes to Richie's werewolf. As stated before, Stephen King has established the werewolf through Patty as: Something seen as dangerous, monstrous and inhuman, and something that must hide and pretend, that lives in constant fear of it's own exposure. And furthermore connected it with experience of being a minority facing discrimination.

And so it is interesting to look at the connection between Richie Tozier and his own werewolf. What is the monster he is so afraid others will see him as? Neither Richie or King himself gives us any concrete answers.

Personally I think that Richie's position as a young boy with visible differences/disability, such as his glasses/poor eyesight (something he attempts to hide as an adult) and complicated behaviourial issues, that are likely undiagnosed ADHD, are strong factors. As someone who similarly grew up with undiagnosed ADHD, I can attest to a strong feeling of being "too much" and distinctly abnormal, something that has bordered on monstrous or alien.

Queerness, in terms of being Bisexual/Gay is also a good fit within his story. His relationship with Eddie and how the Werewolf itself ties into the long history between movie monsters and Queerness is well discussed. Bisexuality especially, can be easily matched to the duality of the werewolf and I personally interpret Richie as such.

But regardless, Richie is shown to put facades up in front of most of his genuine emotions, and is described as confusing by many characters, including his own mother. He is a teller of half-truths and of course, a performer at heart. And in some ways, through his concealment of his inner thoughts to the reader, seems almost aware of his status as a book's narrator.

--

Yeah, so werewolves are a really fun symbol and creature, and I just wanted to blabble (:

There are lots of other great analyses of Richie Tozier's Werewolf on Tumblr, especially ones that delve deeper into queer interpretation, so I recommend you search for them if ya like this sort of thing.

Or just check out any of the posts on @reddieanalysis. Lots of fun stuff for the literary analysis nerd who is also head over heels for those clown fighting boyfriends.

#stephen king's it #it stephen king #it book #it novel #it 1986 #richie tozier #bisexual richie tozier #richie tozier's werewolf #adhd richie tozier #reddie #patty uris #meta #my meta #my stuff #it chapter one #it chapter two

[amayadartan]

5

Amaya’s eyes fluttered open and when she saw the strange trees around her, her mind didn’t bring forth the memory of what had transpired the previous night.  In a panic, she jumped up off of the log; but the way she had been positioned had cut off circulation slightly to her legs, the lack of circulation leading to weakness and numbness which caused her to stumble. She started to fall as she almost hyperventilated; fear quickly blooming in her breast as she came more awake. Her arms windmilled as she tried to catch her balance, but her knees buckled which had her falling forward.  Panic coursed through her as her mind raced to find a spell to keep her from faceplanting on the ground and bring her memories back.

Dartan watched the little witch wake up, and it was clear that it was not a peaceful process.  Before she injured herself by falling on her face, he wrapped an arm around her waist and caught her.  The last thing either of them needed was an injury; not in a place where the scent of blood could bring any number of vicious creatures hunting for them.  He was glad when it worked in stopping her from falling and she didn’t fight against him; since he wasn’t corporeal, there was a chance she might just slip through his arms regardless of his attempt. Leading her the night before and stopping her momentum when falling were two completely different things.   “Calm down, little witch.  You are going to get yourself hurt.” He kept his voice calm, even, and low as not to scare or spook her.  He also didn’t want to find out what would happen if she lashed out at him.

It was Dartan’s voice so close to her ear that brought everything rushing back into Amaya’s brain and she froze.  Not only was it his voice right there, but also the fact that she could feel him holding her.  There was a vibration to it, a soothing warmth, even though there was no physical form to go with it.  For some reason it calmed her and reassured her in a way that she did not quite understand.  Even that phrase he used to refer to her “little witch” did not offend her, that he did not have the same derision in his voice as he had the night before did help. Because of this, she relaxed in his arms and let him take the lead once more, as she had the previous night.

Slowly Dartan righted them both, keeping his hold gentle yet firm on her so she wouldn’t fall.  She was a good foot shorter than him, slight of build, but he could tell she had muscle built from work not just from the gym.  He was surprised, and impressed, at this.  She had spoken of an expedition, something he would remember to inquire more of as they traversed the realm to get to the Palace.  “Are you alright?” He finally asked once he was sure she was steady once more on her feet. He then moved around her to ensure she was unharmed. 

“Yes, thank you.  I’m sorry for the upset. I just didn’t remember what happened or where I was when I woke up. I was disoriented.”  Amaya felt her cheeks flush hot and could only imagine how red they were as her blue eyes dropped to the ground.  Her skin was towards the fair side and she tended to blush rather easily.  That she was still dealing with the fact that being in this strange place bound together was her fault to begin with did not help the matter. “I guess I’m causing you more problems again.” There was a resignation creeping in the edges of her voice, coloring it darker and causing it to sound more defeated.  

“Aye, but I am getting used to that.” There was no longer chastisement or resentment present in his voice as he responded.  “So, we shall not speak on it more. There is no reason to keep going over things.  It solves nothing.” While sitting in the dark while she slept, he had decided that if they were to be stuck together then he had to try at least to get along with her. It wasn’t like fighting with her was going to do either of them any good or make either of them any happier. The best they could hope for now was to work together to get to the Palace and talk to Abriella and Cruz, or at least one of their advisors who might have a clue.  

"I believe I know the direction of the Capital City.  There are no roads or paths where we are, so I'm glad that you're dressed for hiking. If we haven't reached a road by nightfall, I'll see if one of us can summon a demon I know that might help."  Dartan looked around the clearing a bi, then back to Amaya.   

Unlike the night before, she no longer looked defiant and bold, the spirited glint was gone from her eyes.  Her shoulders were slumped, head down, and she overall looked defeated.  He was sure he had a part in that. Putting fingers under her chin he tipped her head back to look at him. "This is not the time for regrets. When we get to the castle, okay?" She nodded weakly. For a reason he didn't know, he gently tucked a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear. "Let's get started.  There is hopefully a road near so we can get you some food."  While he still did not hunger, it had been at least twelve hours since they arrived in Imperium, he estimated, and she would need food and hydration.  If you added in the walking that they were going to have to do to get anywhere, it added onto the need to make sure that he found a way for her to be able to eat.  He might not be happy to be stuck with her, but starvation seemed a rather sever punishment for that.

Amaya nodded and walked behind him when Dartan turned to walk into the forest.  She had decided that saying nothing might be the better option at the moment.  He was being nice, and she didn't want to ruin that.  She was tired and her body ached in several places from the way she had been positioned the night before.  There was not enough energy left in her to argue, plus staying on the good side of the person who knew the land they were in seamed smartest.

It was quickly apparent that Amaya's height was going to be a serious disadvantage to her.  Besides taking longer strides, Dartan was able to clear obstacles on the forest floor easier.  This often left her struggling to keep up with him.  A few times he barked at her for it, but later inextricably apologized. She was trying, and maybe he was realizing that somewhere along the way.

By the time that the sun was at the midway point, they had to take two breaks.  Amaya hadn't eaten since the previous day's lunch and her energy stores were low, but she didn’t say anything to him about it.  He already hated her, she didn’t want to add whining to the list of reasons for him to. Sheer willpower and stubbornness, and a healthy fear of whatever beasts lurked out of sight in the underbrush kept her moving behind him and trying to go over and/or around anything that was in their path.  It always seemed to take her longer and whe was mentally berating herself for it. 

Dartan, for his part, was trying to go slow enough for her to keep up but not lose his patience with Amaya.  It was not her fault she was short or that he had the unexplained ability to go without food or rest.  Then there was the fact that although she was dressed for hiking, he was in a suit; yet he was faring far better than she.  Making mention of having to make accommodations for her would do nothing.  She already knew how he felt, he had not held back the night before and little had changed since then.  Although, during the darkness, he had come to realize that blaming her was a fruitless endeavor and would just frustrate him more and make things more hostile.  He had made many mistakes as a young warlock and it was hard to blame her too much as a mere human for having made one.

As they were making their way through the forest, Dartan was beginning to plan who he would talk to once they reached the Palace of Imperium.  He did have a few contacts in Imperium that he was on a rather friendly basis with, and he hoped they could get him in with the Queen or someone else that had the power to help fix things.  Two of them were both close with her, and he had a human with him, so hopefully they could be swayed to set any previous grievances that he was unaware of aside and at least help the human, which would in turn help him..

It was because of the distraction of his thoughts that Dartan made a serious mistake.  He stopped paying attention to how far behind him Amaya was or even how difficult some of the obstacles might be for her to get around or over.  Instead he was going over conversations he would have in his head and trying to decide the best way to explain their situation. How long it was in the day was even escaping him as played things over within his mind and corrected things he didn’t want to say or thought he could put better.

“Dartan, my legs are short, can you wait up?” Amaya called while trying to climb over two fallen logs that Dartan had hopped over like someone skilled at parkour.  She was at least a foot shorter than him and although her Palladium boots had good traction, she was having such a harder time that more thna once she’d almost broken down in tears.  The fact that there were fat bright purple mushrooms growing off of the wood did not help.  They kept breaking off and making the bark slick.  More than once she’d almost fallen because of it.

By the time she had cleared the logs, she could no longer see the tall spectre anywhere around her.  “Dartan?  Dartan!” Her calls were now more urgent as she was lost completely.  She knew the general direction he’d been headed so continued to go in that way, calling for him and fighting back a rising terror that she was now alone and possibly would be from now on.  Maybe he head lost her on purpose?  Maybe this was his plan going through the dense forest?  

No matter how tired her legs or arms grew from walking and clearing obstacles, she continued moving.  She was starting to feel disoriented and her vision seemed to swim, but hadn’t stopped calling for Dartan, hoping that he would hear her or had noticed she was missing and was looking for her.  Several obstacles with those damned mushrooms had left her arms scratched and bleeding, smears of purple mushroom covering her arms and most of her clothing as well.  Her head throbbed and her eyes blurred, but she kept pushing on, now openly crying.  

Then at the top of one more stack of fallen logs, she punctured the palm of her hand on a small piece of bark that had been sticking up which was hidden by those same purple mushrooms she’d been dealing with all day.  As she pulled her hand up to look at it, she noticed it was fuzzy and out of focus.  The world seemed to be moving around her, but she was sitting still. Whether it was exhaustion, low blood sugar, or something else affecting her, she wasn’t sure.  However, the ground seemed a lot farther from her than it had been as she was climbing up. Fear began to grip her but she was so disoriented and her body was ceasing to respond.  

A moment later, her limp body slid off of the logs and slammed into the ground, her head bouncing off of the dirt with a soft thud.  She didn’t move.  She didn’t make a sound.  Once might have thought her dead had it not been for the flight rising and falling of her chest.  Nothing else on her moved.

A few minutes after she had fallen, there was a rustling in the foliage at her feet.  A little head popped out. It looked like a squirrel head with large mouse ears.  As the rest of the body came out, it appeared a rabbit body and squirrel tail.  It sniffed her, and then slowly made its way around her.  No bigger than a softball, it was certainly no match for her, and seemed to understand that.  After ensuring that she was of no threat, it made some soft chirping noises and twenty more of the little creatures came out of hiding to cover her body, till she just looked like she was wearing a blanket of the small beings.

#the imperium chronicles #writeblr #my writing #new chapter #my ocs #fantasy #fiction #original world #original story #dartan #amaya #spectre #warlock #witch #human #forest #abandonment #new writing #women writers #female writers #writing #writers and poets #writers community #writers on tumblr

[ragingstillness]

Ted/Rebecca/Trent hcs because I have no self-control:

Obviously Ted starts as the focal point of the relationship. It takes a bit of Rebecca and Trent rotating around him like prowling coyotes fighting over a recent kill. Ted is aware they’re both being weird but is delightfully oblivious as to why

Rebecca’s grudge against Trent has nothing to do with who he is as a person but more to do with the press as a whole after how awfully they treated her. Therefore, nothing can happen between the three of them until Trent leaves The Independent.

Stealing someone’s excellent hc here: Trent’s name is thrown into the pot as a possible new PR manager following Keeley starting her own firm. Rebecca is skeptical, Ted is over the moon. He thinks this would be a great chance for Trent to form a better relationship with the players and spend more time with Ted

Rebecca calls Trent in for an interview in full Ice-Queen mode. There is sniping. Trent responds poorly to derision and Rebecca reacts poorly to defiance so it really isn’t going well. Until Higgins comes bursting in to say that (stealing a hc from myself now) Ted tripped and slammed into the goalpost while running on wet grass with the team this is why we all wear cleats gaffer and appears to have knocked himself out. Rebecca and Trent stand at the same time with the same freaked out expressions and while they don’t notice the similarities in their reactions initially, they’ll reflect on it later (Ted is fine btw, just a nasty headache and a goose egg)

Trent is uncomfortably aware that he doesn’t really have any established reason to stick close by to Ted so after the initial interrupted interview he stays away for a little bit. But it’s eating him up inside so after a few pints for courage he goes to Nelson Road looking for Ted. He doesn’t find anyone there, there’s an away match that Trent forgot about in his worry about Ted. He wants desperately to know how Ted is and he doesn’t want it sugarcoated and in that moment the only person he can think of who might give him that information is Rebecca. He catches a glimpse of the match on a tv that’s been left on and the camera just so happens to focus on the owners box so he can see Rebecca isn’t there. Trent, being a normally logical man who throws that all out the window where Ted is concerned, decides the best course of action is to go to Rebecca’s house and ask.

Rebecca is shocked and honestly a little freaked out to see Trent at her house so late at night because she still has nightmares about paps ringing her bell late at night to see if she’ll come out. But Trent clarifies he’s only there to ask about Ted and Rebecca’s English sensibilities won’t let her leave him out in the cold so she invites him in for tea (Trent’s daughter is with his parents if anyone is concerned)

Trent asks his questions about Ted and it’s around this time that Rebecca begins to reflect on how she and Trent were concerned to the same level about Ted when he got hurt.

Rebecca interrupts something Trent is saying to ask point blank: “you love him don’t you?” and Trent just scoffs and casually responds “of course I do what kind of question is that. You’d make a very poor investigative reporter Ms. Welton.” Rebecca’s taken aback by his honesty and Trent sighs, running his hand through his magnificent hair. He explains that he was slowly and inexorably charmed by Ted from the moment they met and he’s come to terms with being in love with Ted a long time ago but also with the fact that he doubts he could ever have him, being unaware if Ted even is attracted to men. Then, caught off guard by his own vulnerability he fires back, “you’d know how I feel wouldn’t you? You’re in love with him too.” Rebecca almost chokes on her tea. She sets the cup down carefully to organize her thoughts but Trent is too perceptive. He suddenly feel a wave of sympathy for her. “I am.” Rebecca says quietly, in a small voice Trent’s never heard from her. She looks up at him, somewhat teary-eyed and smiling weakly “what kind of question is that?” Trent taps his cup against hers then takes it like a shot. It makes Rebecca laugh, and Trent realizes he’s never really heard her laugh before. It’s beautiful.

They part ways awkwardly that night, both lost in thought. It never really occurs to either of them to consider each other rivals as neither of them believe they have a chance with Ted. Ted, meanwhile, is struggling with how much he loves both of them and how much he thinks he could never choose or even manage to get with one of them. (Mutual pining is heroin to me)

Trent comes to the realization that he really has no one to talk to about what it feels like to love Ted other than Rebecca and him coming over to her house at weird hours of the night becomes a strange tradition for them. They drink tea at the counter or sit on the sofa and gush about Ted or whine about how unattainable he is. Ted, meanwhile, is sobbing into his sixth pint on Beard’s shoulder hiccuping through a treatise on Rebecca’s waist and Trent’s hair.

Then one night someone rings the doorbell to Rebecca’s house and she opens it without thinking (stay safe kids don’t be Rebecca) already holding tea and with a greeting for Trent on her lips but it turns out to be Ted. Shocked, she lets him in. He doesn’t have anything too serious to talk about, he just misses chatting with her (they’ve both been busy) and he was just lonely enough to work up the courage to follow his need to talk to her. They chat until Ted falls asleep on the couch.

The doorbell rings again, an hour later. Rebecca is still up guiltily watching Ted sleep. She rushes to answer, knowing it’s Trent. She ushers him in quietly, finger to her lips. He looks confused so she takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch. He looks over the back and sees Ted and his whole face just softens. Luckily Ted is a deep sleeper and their little whisper argument doesn’t wake him. It essentially goes like this what’s he doing here? I don’t know he just wanted to chat I think?? Why is that a question? I don’t know! They decide to take their discussion elsewhere to avoid waking a now adorably snoring Ted. Where do they end up? Rebecca’s bedroom of course (this is a fanfic after all). Trent grills Rebecca on why she didn’t make a move on Ted when the situation was so perfect with him coming to her, even as Trent’s heart is breaking a little and Rebecca looks away before she says that it just didn’t feel right without Trent. Knowing what she knows she just couldn’t try to win Ted’s love without him. Trent gets a wonderful and ridiculous idea: “do you want to try and win his love with me?” He takes her hands and explains that he’s grown to respect her, a lot, which she reciprocates, and if neither of them feel comfortable moving forward alone they should move forward together. This takes some logistical discussion but essentially they agree to ask Ted out as a united front. This is a terrifying risk for both of them but the single chance it might work is enough. Trent jokes about how scared he is and Rebecca responds half-seriously: “Believe.” They fall asleep talking in Rebecca’s bed.

When they wake up they go downstairs and find Ted still asleep, thank God, and decide to make breakfast for him. He wakes up to see them so comfortable with each other and both sleep-rumpled and assumes they’re together (which he’s sort of right about) but also concludes that even if he can’t have either of them at least he knows his two favorite people are happy together. (Luckily for Ted one of the values of this show is communication and who am I to mess with perfection) A conversation is hard after Ted tries multiple times to leave where Trent and Rebecca each take one of his hands and sit him down and explain. Ted can’t quite believe that they both could want him but he’s overjoyed all the same. It does cause him to have a little bit of a teary breakdown and they both hold him. Meeting eyes over Ted’s back Rebecca and Trent make a silent promise that they’ll protect their man to the ends of the earth. At this point all their animosity is gone and they’ve begun to like each other too (not that they’re willing to say or even acknowledge to themselves yet, that’s a couple chapters in the future ;) )

#ted lasso #tedbecca #ted x trent #Ted/Rebecca/Trent #hc #ot3 #polyamory

[iliveiloveiwrite]

make me be true, make me be blue // Anthony Bridgerton

A/N: As much as I love Benedict, I also love Anthony. The last part of this is extremely inspired by a scene from The Crown - let’s see if you can guess which one! Title: Harry Connick jr - It Had To Be You

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: arguing, an argument, lots of love and fluff, caring, established relationship, married couple, suggestiveness, female pronouns, use of word ‘wife’. 

Word count: 2.8k

As the season in London drew to a close, it could be seen on every face that they were tired of the dancing and the music and the lukewarm lemonade. It was never a comment on the talent of the musicians unless, perhaps, it was a Smythe-Smith musical. Their seasonal musical was never welcomed with much excitement, but very few could say no to the quartet of young women.

Nevertheless, whomever the artist may be, many were glad for the season to draw to a close. Sighing tiredly, you bid your goodbyes to the latest lady to draw you into conversation. Your lavender skirts swish gently under foot as you wander around the lavishly decorated ballroom, in search for your dear husband.

You spy his hair first; the dark brown hair standing a head taller than the rest of the men he currently spoke with. Repressing another tired sigh, you note that the elderly white-haired men Anthony was standing with were of large importance in society.

“The Revolution was over two decades ago, and it seems France traded in one monarch for another,” is what you hear as you sidle up to Anthony. He smiles down at you, hooking his arm through yours, before turning his attention back to the conversation.

Anthony nods along; his interest piqued but not to the point where he would happily contribute to the debate. Instead, he simply offers, “True, a king for an emperor.”

“Surely Napoleon is still in exile,” You comment lightly, eyebrows furrowing at the topic of conversation between the men. They would never see a day of war between them; having enough money between them meaning they would not have dress in a uniform. As such, there was no need for the conversation.

“Dear girl, Napoleon left Elba and landed back in Paris last week. Do you read the papers?” Lord Hugo states, a dismissive look on his face as if questioning your very presence in the conversation. He frowns at your comfortable stance next to your husband, wondering why you aren’t socialising with the other wives.

A flush heats your body; rising anger. Turning to Anthony, you squeeze the hand that rests on his forearm, a silent plea for help but your husband remains silent.

Ducking your head, you state through clenched teeth, “Pardon me, Lord Hugo. I must be making a round of the room; I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was neglecting my womanly duties.”

“As you should,” The Lord replies as you turn your back to him. You bristle from the comment, back straightening despite the corset designed to do such an action. It wouldn’t be long now until Anthony wrapped up the conversation; seeking you out through the crowd. For you however, the ball was over – nothing left to be said.

------------

Stalking through the large house, you ignore the increasing calls of your husband. Having left the carriage in a hurry of skirts, silks and ribbons, Anthony had begun immediately calling your name – wanting you to stop and wait, to stop and listen.

Even the Butler remains silent as he catches a glimpse of your face and the thunderous expression it currently holds. Silently, the Butler offers a prayer for the wellbeing of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.

“You’re really going to remain silent?” Anthony calls from the bottom of the staircase, one foot poised on the bottom step, ready to launch himself upstairs at a moment’s call.

Pausing in your retreat, you throw a glare at your husband. A look that definitely shows you were not up for talking on the stairs.

Anthony nods, seemingly understanding this. “So it’s the silent treatment until we’re in our room,” He pauses, beginning the ascent to the bedroom he has shared with you since the first night of your marriage, “Understandable.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from the man that had managed to vex you so thoroughly.

Shoving open the door to your shared bedroom does little to siphon off some of the anger you feel. In fact, it only increases when you try to work the laces of your dress free by yourself, frustrated tears brewing in the corner of your eyes as you manoeuvre yourself into every position possible to try and free yourself.

Slumping at your dressing table, you come to realise that it was more humiliation that you felt.

Your husband was a marvellous man; intelligent, funny, respectful and incredibly handsome. Yet, he had moments where he could so fantastically obtuse.

The moment played in your mind on a constant loop; the words of disdain from the Lord, Anthony’s silence. A constant loop in your mind; it would be a while before your mind rested enough to let you have some peace.

Brushing your hands through your hair, you loosen the pins that keep in place, beginning the painstaking process of removing them. All the while thinking that if the night had gone better, Anthony would be the one removing them, offering you a kiss for each pin removed.

--------

Anthony had taken his time walking to the bedroom, running through the events of the evening, thinking where he might have gone wrong – said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing. He found the moment; realised what he had said or rather, what he hadn’t said, and how it had come across. Lord Hugo was an incredibly influential man, and whilst Anthony outranked him in his peerage, his youth made him all but an inexperienced whelp in Hugo’s eyes.

Hindsight was truly an excellent gift to possess. He should have said something; Hugo’s influence be damned. He should have spoken up; should have defended you.

Gently, he rests his forehead against the closed door of the bedroom. He takes a deep breath and places a hand on the wooden panel; desperate to reach through to you, but he knows that there is far more on your mind than comfort at this point.

Anthony enters the bedroom slowly, closing the door softly behind him. “Are you ready to talk me now, darling?” Anthony asks, voice soft but tone wary as he takes in your defeated state.

“You humiliated me in front of that odious man by staying silent.”

His eyes widen; truly unaware of such a misdeed taking place. “I didn’t know, truly.”

“That’s what hurts most, Anthony. This is not a marriage of equals, darling. I know you love me as much as I love you, but I have brought nothing to this marriage. I did not get the pleasure to go to university despite doing so well in my studies. I cannot travel freely, and I cannot speak my mind whenever I damn well please. There are going to be some topics that I am not going to be an expert on, but you can try your best not to defend me when I get things wrong.”

“Darling, I didn’t mean any harm.”

You sniffle, wiping away the few tears that have dared to fall. “I know you didn’t, yet it still happened.”

Anthony opens and closes his mouth, searching for something – anything – to say that could make this better, but nothing comes to mind, so nothing leaves his mouth.

A pained noise leaves your lips as you turn away from your husband, reaching for your face cream, your hairbrush – anything to keep your hands busy and the tears at bay.

Finally, a sigh is all you hear, and you figure that the conversation is done for the evening. A lingering kiss is placed to the top of your head before Anthony leaves the bedroom, presumably retiring to his study.

Once free of the confines your dress, you dress for bed, crawling under the covers. Running a hand down your face, you couldn’t help but hope Anthony would join you soon. Despite the anger you felt at the man, you couldn’t fall asleep without him next to you.

---------

You wake alone. Anthony’s side of the bed is ruffled; he had joined you an hour after you had slide under the covers. He hadn’t said anything; he had simply gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly, pressing apologetic kiss after apologetic kiss to whatever piece of bare skin he could reach.

Stretching a hand to his side of the bed, the sheets are cold. Reaching for his pillow, you hold it to your face, inhaling the spiciness of whatever cologne he used last night. Keeping the pillow close, you turn onto your back, thinking over the events of last night.

You had every right to be annoyed; you had every right to feel the way you did. If this was a different society, you would not rely on Anthony to defend you – you would have spoken your mind to Lord Hugo. But this was not a different society, and its trappings were stifling. For the hope of future generations, you couldn’t help but pray things would soon change.

------------

The day moves slowly. Tea with Anthony’s mother and sisters followed by a visit to the modiste. No sign of Anthony with every visit home and your mood drops with every shake of the Butler’s head.

Eventually, you find refuge in the library, searching through the books and the papers there. It had been so long since you had read something that was not a romance. Pride and Prejudice had been published just two years ago and you had read it countless times; enjoying the author’s way with words and her creation of Mr. Darcy. However, instead of picking up the latest romance, you chose to return to the books you had so adored in your education – historical accounts of past monarchs and their reigns, accounts of wars.

It was not for the sake of Lord Hugo who sneered at you with such derision; it was for your benefit. Knowledge was free and you owned the library through marriage, why shouldn’t you take a look?

-----------

The Butler clearing his throat is what brings your attention back to the present. Having lost yourself so freely in an account of the witch hunts that had plagued the north of England; the book had caught your eye, tucked away and gathering dust. The subject had immediately caught your interest, and you soon found yourself searching for all the books you could on the subject.

Smiling sheepishly at the Butler, you ask, “Have some guests arrived? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He shakes his head, smiling fondly at you, “I thought you would like to know that the Viscount has returned home. He is currently in his study.”

Standing from your chair, you deposit your book on a table before thanking the Butler and rushing up the stairs to Anthony’s study. You pause just outside the door, gathering yourself, tidying your appearance and slowing your breathing to an acceptable rate.

Knocking on the door, your heart begins to pound in your chest as you hear his warm voice giving you permission to enter.

Anthony freezes in his chair when he sees you enter his study. Your eyes are bright and there’s a faint flush to your skin that has Anthony’s eyes raking over your body, curious to know what’s caused such a reaction in you.

“Darling,” He greets, voice kind and warm.

“Darling,” You reply, watching the smile grow across his face when he hears the fondness in your voice.

“How has your day been?” Anthony asks, drawing out the inevitable conversation.

You smile widely, “I spent most of it in the library, reading.”

“A new romance novel?”

You shake your head, smoothing down the skirts of your sage green dress, “The trials of the Berwick and Pendle witches.”

Anthony’s eyes widen almost comically. “I didn’t even know we had books on the topic.”

“Neither did I, but I’ve been reading through the accounts all day. It truly is fascinating. Did you know History was my strongest subject when I was in education?”

Again, Anthony shakes his head. He didn’t know; he hadn’t asked. You shrug, “Arithmetic, Geography, Latin… They never grasped me as much as History did. I would read for hours about whatever I could find: the Tudors, the Saxons, military strategy…” At the further widening of Anthony’s eyes, you continue, “I suppose as I grew older and I was then out as a debutante, I lost the habit.”

“Perhaps,” Anthony murmurs before saying, “You can always find the habit again.”

You smile widely; the grin brightening your face as it stretches to your eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that darling,” You begin, “I want to be more involved, Anthony. I don’t want to be a silent partner; I want to be there; I want to comment. I want to know what is happening with foreign affairs whether it is Napoleon or the price of tea. I want to know because I want to be on a more equal footing with you. I refuse to be humiliated that way again; it was awful, to be dismissed in that manner by that loathsome man.”

You stand before your husband, chest heaving in your restrictive dress. The words lay loud in the room; your plea for Anthony to speak up for you, your demand for further equality in your marriage.

“I called on Lord Hugo this afternoon,” Anthony states rather plainly after you fall silent, as if the meeting had been in his date book for months.

“You did?” You frown at him; wondering whether he had heard a single word that you had flung into the great expanse.

He nods. “He was rather surprised to see me. I’ll admit I didn’t plan on calling on him, but I kept thinking of last night and how destroyed you looked. I don’t ever want to see that look on your face again for as long as I shall live. So,” He shrugs, “I paid the Lord a visit.”

“How did it go?”

Anthony holds his right up and it is then that you see the dark purple now beginning to bruise his knuckles. “I may have lost my temper when I remembered how he spoke to you and how you felt afterwards,” Anthony pauses and then laughs loudly, “And I may have punched him in the face.”

“Anthony!” You berate, repressing the urge to roll your eyes at your ever vexing husband. “Is anything broken?”

He shakes his head, smiling widely, “Only Hugo’s nose.”

“My hero,” You drawl, heart racing as you take in the man that you married. The smart, brilliant and hot-headed man that you promised your forever to who had defended your honour against the man who had rudely spoken to you last night. He grins cheekily at your words, wiggling his fingers to show you that there was nothing broken – he was fine.

“You can read whatever you’d like,” He states firmly, “You can study whatever you like. Humiliate the man if there’s a next time.”

“Thank you,” You reply, holding your head high as you smile gratefully at the love of your life.

Anthony stands from his chair, having now recovered from the shock of your speech and the ease of which he can accept your demands. He had never been the easiest man to get along with; stubborn and set in his ways long before he ought to have been, but you had taken him in your stride, loving him just as fiercely as he loved you.

He rounds the desk. All the while his gaze does not leave yours. A sensual smile spreads across his face as he watches you wring your hands together – a nervous tic if there ever was any.

Leaning against the desk, Anthony crosses his ankles, resting hands upon the lip of his desk. He remains happy in the knowledge that even after the honeymoon period of your marriage was over, you would still track his every move. Your eyes dancing over his figure as he rests his weight upon the desk.

“There’s something different about you,” He finally says, breaking the silence of the room.

“Oh?” You whisper, your shoulders rolling back as you try to think about what could have changed – a new dress? A new attitude?

“You’re surer of yourself. It makes you look taller.”

“I don’t particularly think I’ve gained any height.”

“Perhaps not,” Anthony allows; a seductive smile on his face as he tilts his head to one side, regarding you. “But it presents me with two options.”

“And they are?”

“Well,” He begins, running a hand through his thick hair, “I could go and find a ladder to reach the new height of my tall wife or…”

Anthony trails off, leaving you in suspense as you find yourself taking those first few steps closer to him. Desperate to be in his arms, to be touched by the man you love - body and soul.

“Or…” You breathe; voice raspy with growing need.

“Or” Anthony beams, “She can get on her knees.”

***********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagines

[narrators-journal]

Hello, I hope you are well, can I ask Yandere Akutagawa who probably hates you for how you make us feel? I may degrade you but get mad if someone else does

I hope this is good and is what you wanted! I'm a little rusty with Yandere content, so it might be a bit subtle here. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

As a new low ranking mafia goon you had expected some harsh bullying from your coworkers, but that didn't mean you couldn't despise them for it, or have the occassional breakdown in the headquarters bathroom or something. That was actually how you'd met your first friend-like person in the organization, Higuchi had found you fighting to not cry in the bathroom one day, and instead of belittling you for the moment of weakness, she gave you a paper towel to dab the tears from your (s/c) cheeks and assured you that she understood your predicament.

In all honesty, the harassment wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for one specific man. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

Akutagawa was a violent, hostile, rabid dog of a man who took any possible chance to insult you without mercy. It didn't even have to be anything that would get you into trouble or annoy him, he would belittle anything he could about you as a person, not just your work for the mafia. It had quickly lost all of the leeway you had for newbie-hazing. At least now you had a reason to blame for the prickly mafioso hating your guts. Turns out he isn't a fan of his fashion being labelled 'hot topic tween goth.' After that, you just avoided him as best you could, which seemed near impossible with how much he continued to pop up in your life, even after you'd insulted him.

Of course, Mori would pair you with the goth pretty frequently despite your reluctance, Akutagawa had a pretty variable set of jobs he could be assigned to and thus would be a good on-the-job teacher for a newbie such as yourself, but after you'd insulted the goth he didn't leave you alone like you might've thought he would. Instead, he seemed to pop up a lot more frequently, even outside of the jobs you were paired with him on. Of course, you would see the pale vampire at the headquarters when you weren't working with him, but now you had gone from seeing him maybe once a week for a task or to retrieve or deliver ill-gotten cash, to seeing him a distance behind you in the hallway of the headquarters almost every other day, or in one of the spare sitting rooms the goons had overtaken and claimed as a sort of 'break room' on nights when you'd stay super late into the night and should've been alone.

However, you couldn't really accuse the hostile man of stalking you just to glare at you or spit insults. After all, Higuchi had always had a very valid point as to why you were running into him when you brought the occurrences up, and you'd be labelled a loon for thinking he'd been trailing you just because you had spotted him in the grocery store. So, you opted to keep your mouth shut and just ignored him whenever you could get away with it.

Though, every once in a while a snide remark or two slipped out, like one had on the day he limped into the headquarters after another spat with his rival, Atsushi Nakajima.           "You look like a cat's half digested dinner," you snorted, watching the wheezing vampire flop into one of the fancy velvet chairs in the empty break room. He was still glowing a pretty vibrant red, with his coat ribbon lashing like the tail of an angry cat, but he ignored your comment and instead focused on wrapping his slashed up arm and leg in bandages. Then, just as you were beginning to leave the room to find your own place to do some paperwork, you felt fabric slither around your neck to tighten into a razor-wire choke-collar and yank you none-too-gently over to the chair Akutagawa sat in.

You weren't likely to cut an impressive figure with your (e/c) eyes wide with shock at the sudden attack, and fear at the feeling of Rashoumon's sharp edges biting into your (s/c) skin to draw blood under your bully's cold, humiliation-filled glare,          "I think you're beginning to forget your place here, newbie." He spat, his raspy growl dripping with venom, "Not only do I outrank you, but I am much stronger than you. You are nowhere near Jinko's strength, fucking Higuchi is more of a threat to me than you are, so the next time you want to feel more significant than you are and insult me, I suggest you have a fucking grave dug beforehand." He got right in your face as he spoke, barring his teeth at you with sin-worthy wrath in his grey eyes, but, just for a moment before the lethal ribbon threw you away as easily as he would a gum wrapper, he hesitated. It was brief, only a few seconds, but Akutagawa's anger lessened, and instead he leaned forward just a hair. Just as quickly as it appeared though, the moment was gone. His fury returned with a vengeance and the ribbon that held you captive launched you across the room, sending you sliding across the floor and into the wall hard enough to crack it just a bit.

You took the hint and scrambled to your feet as soon as you got some air into your lungs, coughing and wheezing as you fled the room before Rashoumon could be sent through your spine next.

Admittedly, being snippy with the vampire after he'd already been embarrassed like that hadn't been a shining example of your best timing, but you tried to move past it, and that weird moment of hesitation, and label it a learning experience. Your fellow goons however, caught wind of your confrontation and did not give you such kindness. They instead turned it into more ammunition for snide remarks about how intelligent you were.

          "Hey! Look who just walked in!" A goon you had yet to learn the name of almost crowed one day when you were eating lunch in the breakroom, just trying to watch some tv before your next job when Akutagawa had come in. "Hey, (y/n), wanna try and see if he'll knock your braincells back into place?" You just glared at the man while he continued to call you stupid and just try to instigate whatever fight he could it seemed. You didn't fall for his trap though, keeping your mouth firmly shut and not responding to his insults or assumptions of how masochistic you were. No, you instead simply returned your attention to the tv and blocked out Akutagawa's existence until you finished your lunch and left for your job.

Thankfully, it was a solo mission, a new extension of trust from Mori, and a prime chance to not only prove yourself, but to get away from the assholes you worked with. So, by the time you returned to the mafia headquarters, you were feeling pretty good and had almost completely forgotten your earlier run-in with that asshole of a goon around your lunch time.

Of course, the sky was dark by the time you returned from the job, so on top of your improved mood, you were also spared further heckling since everyone else had finished their work and gone home for the night. So, you were gratefully able to fly through the report you had to write about the mission, and cataloging of the goods you'd distributed without issue. It wasn't until you stopped by the bathroom to change out of your clothing and into some more comfortable, not-dirty clothes before your walk home that you smelled the stench of blood.

It hit you like a brick as soon as you had opened the bathroom door. The whole bathroom reeked of the dizzying smell of iron and death so badly that it poured out into the empty hallway. All it took was a few steps inside to investigate for you to spot the source of such a strong stench. A corpse huddled into the far corner across from the stalls.

Through your stinging tears, you could see that it was likely one of the other mafia goons, and judging by the one bloody tuft of hair you could see amongst the chunks of flayed flesh...it was the same goon that was messing with you earlier. Since your only identifier was the shredded and blood soaked suit that the heap of shredded flesh and spilled entrails somewhat wore and a bit of hair, you couldn't say for certain, but something in your gut told you it was the same man.

      "You know, you should really grow a spine." You whirled around to face the doorway as soon as the raspy voice spoke, (e/c) eyes wide and your hand instantly falling to the small pistol you had at your hip. But, instead of some demented intruder out to murder any mafia goons they found, you were instead met with Akutagawa. Your worst bully.

For a moment, all you could do was stare in shock, your brain frantically scrambling to recollect its composure under the pressure of an almost primal terror, just letting you stammer out a shakey,         "What?" before your legs began to turn to jello, the thick blanket of coppery blood in the air making your stomach want to escape out of your mouth. However, you put your hand on the cool glass of the sink and bit back the urge to vomit. The last thing you wanted was to give the sadistic mafioso more ammo against you in his harassment, and if he was the goon-slaughtering-psycho, you didn't want to go out because you were too busy retching to defend yourself. However, he didn't attack you. He just stood in the doorway and glared at the mutilated pile of flesh as if it had insulted his family for a moment before speaking again,         "You're supposed to be a mafia member, (y/n), you can't just let people use you as a doormat, it reflects poorly on the organization." he chided with a derisive sniff, "Grow a damned spine and begin to stand up for yourself. No one's going to 'defend your honor' like this..." He trailed off, fixing you with a cold, irritated look for a long moment before he turned on his heel with a huff, "Clean that bastard up, before he stains the linoleum anymore than he already has."

With that, Akutagawa stomped off back to wherever he'd come from. Leaving you to deal with the bloody carnage you'd discovered, and to ask yourself why he had even been here. It was the middle of the night, most everyone should be home by now, but the goth had appeared only a moment after you'd entered the bathroom, how had he shown up so quickly? He didn't bring Mori or anyone else, so it wasn't like he'd discovered the body first...

You got a sick feeling that he'd been the one to leave such a nightmarish scene. And that he'd been waiting for you to find it or something.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #Akutagawa ryuunosuke #x reader #Yandere akutagawa #ask #scenario #yandere

[five-rivers]

Auction

For @skellagirl

.

“Hey, Jazz,” said Danny, leaning into Jazz’s room, one hand on the doorknob, the other braced against the jamb. “Wanna help me mess with Vlad?”

“Do I?” responded Jazz, pushing her chair back. “What’s the plan?”

“Well,” said Danny, “Vlad left one of his creepy spy bugs in the kitchen again, and I was thinking we could have a loud conversation in front of it about how Mom’s going to that charity bachelor auction.”

Jazz frowned. “But she isn’t. She’s married.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. Vlad’s delusional.”

“Ah, I see,” said Jazz. “Yeah, let’s do it. Should we write a script?”

“Maybe just a backstory. I work better with improv.”

“I’ve seen your fights, Danny. You definitely do not.”

“That’s cold.”

.

Maddie was not here, and Vlad was going to commit murder. Just a little bit. The victim was already half dead, after all.

His teeth squeaked as he forced himself to smile at the vapid, crowds of rich single women below him. He could not, unfortunately, back out now without losing quite a bit of face. The only consolation he had was that he had already communicated the need to eliminate the wealthier bidders, so that Maddie’s bet would win, to his ghostly servants. If only he could get away from the crowds and duplicate himself to take care of the others…

But that would be suspicious too, wouldn’t it? He had to let at least a few bids go through. And some of them had to be high, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it from his ever-aggravating business associates.

Curse them and their golf-playing buffoonery. He didn’t even like golf. It took so long.

When his name was called, he went out onto the stage like a man expecting to be hung. Why did anyone think this kind of thing was a good idea? This was humiliating. Ninety percent of the people bidding were after his money one way or another, he was sure.

Not like Maddie.

He sighed and refused to make eye contact with anyone in the crowd as the auctioneer called higher and higher values. Finally, the number stopped climbing, and Vlad lowered his gaze to see who, exactly, he would have to waste a day with.

Well. At least it wasn’t someone who was after his money.

.

“So,” said Harriet Chin, not even bothering to hide the recorder she held in her hands, “Vladimir Masters. Do you have a statement regarding the Whole World Mission scandal?”

“Harriet,” said Vlad, “please, we’re supposed to be on a date.”

“Yes, and I get to decide our activities. And I want an exclusive interview with the elusive Vlad Masters. That’s what I paid for, after all.”

“And here I was, thinking that it was my ravishing, good looks.”

Harriet snorted. “Maybe for someone who didn’t see you and Jack in that ridiculous hot dog eating contest. Although,” she leaned back appraisingly, “you did fill out since then. Actually… I’m sort of surprised at how early the bidding topped out. Was the room filled with bitter exes, or is there some scandal I don’t know about?”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “I confess, I’m as surprised as you.”

“Now, that’s a lie,” said Harriet.

“Excuse me?”

“You still have that tell from college,” said Harriet, smugly.

“Excuse me? I do not have a tell.” If he did, he had to identify and get rid of it as soon as possible.

“You do,” said Harriet, still grinning.

Vlad weighed the pros and cons of simply overshadowing her and making her lose the day. She’d probably claim that he drugged her or something. Curses.

He sighed, heavily. “At least let me take you out to a restaurant instead of,” he flicked his fingers at his surroundings, “just standing here.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A person’s house can tell you a lot about someone. Didn’t your Wisconsin home blow up? What was up with that, anyway?”

“I released a statement regarding that some time ago,” said Vlad.

“Wasn’t it also raided by the government?”

“That was a misunderstanding. And I also released a press statement about that incident. It shouldn’t take you more than, oh, an hour to look it up online.” This wasn’t entirely true. Once it was out of the immediate spotlight, Vlad had spent quite a bit of money to have the whole story scrubbed. “Dinner? I am paying.”

Harriet looked thoughtful. “Alright, but I’m picking where we go.”

“Of course,” said Vlad, graciously.

.

He regretted everything.

“Harriet, I know Amity Park is small relative to, say, Chicago, but, really… There are good restaurants here.”

“Yes,” said Harriet, “but I wanted to eat here.”

Vlad grimaced and tried not to look at the booth where Daniel and his juvenile delinquent friends were sitting and filming him with a handheld camera.

“Of course,” said Harriet, apparently unbothered by the stickiness of the booth bench and the screaming of children in the other part of building, “if you wanted to go back to a more private setting so that we could continue our interview—”

“No, no, this is quite alright. I said I would get you dinner, and here we are, eating…” He glanced at the menu with derision. “Food.”

He could, just barely, call it that. Even if he’d discovered during his short-term ownership of the chain that certain of its condiments could be used as mid-grade explosives. He didn’t know how Daniel could stand it.

(On the other hand, he had to admit he was enjoying this. Just a little. He so rarely got to match wits against a competent adult.)

(Maddie didn’t count—He was trying to woo Maddie, after all. They were practically on the same side.)

Valerie Grey, looking intensely weirded out, brought their order to their table. Harriet, unperturbed by the grease leaking through the paper wrappings, began to sort though the offerings for the cheap chicken burger she had ordered. Vlad, meanwhile, stared down at his sandwich.

Someone had put an ectoplasm antagonist in the dressing. He glared at Daniel. He didn’t know how the boy had done it, but he was going to pay for it. Along with setting him up for this ridiculous ‘date.’

“Aren’t you going to eat?” asked Harriet.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, stop being such a snob. I remember you and Jack living off of instant ramen.”

“That was then, this is now,” said Vlad.

.

“Seems to be going well,” said Tucker, adjusting the lens on his camera, “all things considered.”

“Kind of surprised they’re here of all places, though,” said Sam.

“I think Ms. Chin’s just trying to get a rise out of Vlad, to be honest.” He’d stopped looking at them, though, instead frowning at the kitchens. “I think Valerie put something in his food. Do you think we should do something?”

“Not really,” said Tucker.

“Yeah, I’m going to choose Valerie every day over the old rich white guy who wants to kill your dad,” said Sam. “Even if she has some slightly homicidal tendencies regarding you.”

“Fair enough,” said Danny. “Want to stalk Vlad and his date until they drive home?”

“I don’t have any other plans,” said Sam, easily.

“Same,” said Tucker.

“Cool,” said Danny.

.

“Are you frequently stalked by teenagers?” asked Harriet.

“No,” said Vlad.

“And isn’t that Jack and Maddie’s son?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh ho, there’s a story there, isn’t there?”

“A private matter, I assure you.”

“When you’re as wealthy as you are, Vlad, nothing’s a private matter anymore.”

“I fear I must disagree with you on that count. Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise,” said Harriet. “Unless you want to give me that interview.”

“Ugh. No.”

It was a miniature golf course. Of course it was. He could never escape from the accursed ‘sport.’ At least the miniature version was marginally more tolerable. Or it would be, if Daniel and his pack of friends weren’t able to follow them in.

… Or maybe they wouldn’t follow them in. The trio veered off suddenly right before the exit. Vlad smirked. Not enough cash for the little badger to get in, hm?

This assumption was disastrously disproven when a ghost fight tore through the Astroturf that covered the third hole.

Harriet was very nearly thrown into the pond, but Vlad managed to catch her at the last moment.

She was blushing.

Butter biscuits.

.

“Well,” said Harriet, “that wasn’t the interview I wanted, but it wasn’t a total waste of time. Same time next week?”

“Fine, fine, whatever you want,” said Vlad. Then what he said caught up to him. “No. One date. One date was all you paid for.”

Harriet pretended not to hear him.

#danny phantom #phic phight 2021 #phic phight

[milkiane]

revelations and confessions

pairings: regulus black x reader

warnings: mentions of food, mention of abuse, manipulative parents, getting tied up, jily, implied wolfstar

word count: 5548

note: for @rcwenaclaw’s writing challenge — this is my favorite fic so far <3 s/o to @iwritesiriusly and @hellounicorn for listening to me rant and and rave about y/n and reggie, u’re the best mwah

“... and you would be married to the crowned heir of grimmauld by the end of the month,” your father declared.

if you have been listening to what you’ve been blindly agreeing to, you would have had the opportunity to assert your own appraisals of the sudden betrothal.

you choked on your food, earning concerned gasps and theatrical pats by the maids, “‘m fine, ‘m fine,”

your parents stared at you with iffy looks as you cleared your throat, “i thought we’ve agreed years ago that i wouldn’t be betrothed to some high-strung bloke i’ve never met before?”

your mother pursed her lips before giving you a well-mannered response, “well, dear, we ought to make some amends with that agreement,”

you just stared at her with a blank expression so she continued, “and we believe that it would be for the amelioration of our country, considering that the blacks are quite exceptional and-”

“and rich?” you smiled derisively, cutting her off.

your father looked around the royal maids and guards around the dining room, “may you excuse us for a moment?” to which they nodded and left.

he sighed, “look, y/n, i’m aware that you’re upset-”

you scoffed, “i am more than upset, father. you agreed that i will be married on my own time, on my own accord,”

“and i am the king, you ought to meet my commands.” your father bellowed, slamming the silver utensils on the table, making you and your mother flinch.

he cleared his throat, calming himself down, “tell your matron to arrange your attire for this week, we must meet the blacks tomorrow evening at the grand chateau, and i shan’t hear any more complaints.”

“yes, father,” you mumbled, excusing yourself from the table to make your way towards your bedroom, eyes becoming glassy from the upcoming tears.

you arrived at the chateau a few hours before the royal gathering with the blacks, meaning you would have enough time to devise an escape plan.

you haven’t spoken to your parents unless you’re absolutely required to, you know that you shouldn’t be disobeying them, but they should have known from just acknowledging your mindset and behavior.

you weren’t the usual prim and proper princess, no. you are your own person, you’re noble when strictly necessary, but, in all honesty, your personality was far from dainty.

you wouldn’t have chosen to have this life if you could. as fun as it was to play dress up in magnificent ball gowns, you would have chosen a life full of adventures, skinny jeans, crop tops, and dyed hair instead.

the matron knocked on your door, bringing in the gorgeous dress robes that you’re supposed to wear for later evening.

you gratefully smiled at her, asking her to give yourself some time to prepare by yourself until the formal reception.

as you hung it over with your other dresses and gowns, you walked towards the balcony, breathing in some fresh air. it had a clear view of the beautiful gardens of the chateau, the same balconies from your left and right.

you flopped yourself down on the queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling as you thought of possible ways to avoid the betrothal.

none of your ideas sounded good enough, so you turned on the television in front of your bed to distract yourself from the inevitable proposal.

flipping through the channels, you stopped to watch audrey hepburn’s roman holiday.

when you’ve watched the scene where she snuck out of the castle, an idea popped up in your head. you knew it was impossible, of course, but it was worth a shot.

you glanced at the clock, you still had at least an hour and a half before the matron would come back to get you.

grabbing the satchel you’ve bought at a fair once, you made your way towards the elegant bathroom. you shuffled through the things, you knew that if your mother found out about your clandestine possessions, she would go calling you atrocious for merlin knows how long.

you slipped on your cargo shorts and a halter top. you stared at your long hair, you knew that if you wanted to slip away easily from the guards’ line of vision, you had to make some adjustments.

you grabbed the scissors from the corner of the countertop, taking a deep breath before snipping a lengthy portion.

you let out a hushed squeal, laughing as you stared at the chopped-off hair. you continued cropping and trimming until your hair became an uneven bob cut.

not bad, you grinned, cutting a few more strands to add curtain bangs, impeccable.

you scuffled deeper into the bag, your hand retrieving a bagged pink wig. perfect.

you started packing a few essential needs in your satchel.

you looked out the window, the sun had set an hour ago, meaning it was dark out. which also means it would be easier for you to sneak out.

you had at least ten minutes before meeting the blacks so you immediately stared across the room, looking for something to act as a rope.

stopping at the closet of gowns, you groaned in reluctance. you loved your gowns too much but you wouldn’t risk getting married, so you grabbed the scissors, ripping them up and tying them together.

once you’ve ensured that it was tight enough, you fastened it around the huge handles of the door and threw your makeshift rope out the balcony.

when you heard the whispers and footsteps of people coming you hastily grabbed your bag and ran towards the balcony.

you carefully grabbed onto the silk, lowering yourself down.

a noise from your right caught your attention, making you freeze. you snapped your head to the balcony next to you and made eye contact with a boy doing the same thing.

your prolonged eye contact was cut short when the doors to your room burst open, making you yelp in surprise as your rope had a sudden shift.

you could hear your matron holler for the guards, so you briskly lowered yourself faster, the friction of the silk burning against your hands.

you landed on your feet the same time as the mysterious guy did.

he made a run for it, dodging the bushes and flowers across the garden. his trousers not giving him any justice.

you were not too far behind him, thanking merlin that your yoga and workout lessons paid off.

the yells of the guards caught your attention, surrounding you and the man in the middle.

they all pointed their blades at you, making you gulp.

there goes your escape plan.

“which one of you has the princess?” a guard shouted, shifting the lamp between you and him. each one of the men slowly closing in on you.

that’s when you realized that they weren’t your palace guards. they were merely the chateau’s security.

“does it look like we have a princess with us?” the boy beside you refuted, gesturing between the both of you.

ten guards.

one of them asked their superintendent, “what was the description given?”

“long h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, last seen wearing a peach nightgown,”

they turned their gaze back at you, one of them approaching you to take a good look, “wait a minute,”

you sucked in a breath, but before any of you could make a move, the guy grabbed your hand and ran, swerving through the distracted guards.

“oi!”

but you already had a head start, you were out of the gates and into the forest the moment they called for backup.

you ran, and ran, and ran.

the adrenaline coursing in your veins had done nothing to stop you from running, it made you feel so free, so alleviated.

so alleviated that you didn’t notice the huge rock that made you stumble, but before you could even hit the ground, the man caught your arm, pulling you against him.

and you were certain that time stopped when you finally locked eyes with him. specks of green and blue surrounding his alluring hazel eyes.

they said that when you meet someone for the first time, they would either be nothing more than another face amongst the crowds of memories or a face that would be burning at the back of your mind for a long time.

it was the latter.

the moonlight was shining over the both of you, the soft light making him look so ethereal. his celestial facial structure giving the famed sculptures a run for their money.

regulus looked at you in awe, neglecting the fact that you almost fell flat on your face. his gaze fell onto your gentle e/c eyes, the smooth arch of your nose, and the sleek curve of the cupid’s bow on your lips.

you would’ve loved staying in that position, admiring the young man for the first time every chance you would be given, but alas, the distant shouts of the guards forbade you from doing it any longer.

“who are you, anyway?” the guy asked. after successfully carrying out your escape plan, with your pink wig askew, he offered to buy you a mug of warm butterbeer at the nearby pub; the leaky cauldron.

you removed the wig from your head’s hold, ruffling your hair a bit to soothe the headache. your eyes searched around the room, looking for a possible new name.

“erm,” guest singer, liane moonshine, “miliane…” holyhead harpies quidditch poster, “harper.” you finished, “miliane harper, yeah,”

he eyed you suspiciously as he took a sip from his drink, “alright, miliane harper, what’re you doing sneaking out’f the princess’ bedroom like that?”

“i could ask you the same thing, stranger,” you mused, fiddling with the straps of your satchel.

“regulus,” he said, “call me regulus,”

“what were you doing sneaking out next door, regulus?”

“i asked you first,” he said, shooting you a pointed look.

thinking of a reasonable explanation, you mumbled, “stealing?” you winced, cursing yourself for hesitating.

“a’right, here’s the deal, miliane harper, because i know f’myself that you aren’t who you claim to be and you certainly weren’t there to steal,” he whispered, leaning in ‘til his face was a few inches away from yours, “now, ‘m gonna ask you one last time, who. are. you?”

you gulped, faintly murmuring your answer, “the crowned heiress of diagon.”

“salazar,” regulus cursed, “you’re princess y/n?”

you shushed him, shoving your hand to cover his mouth as a few heads turned to look at the both of you. you were certain that your parents have sent a search team to look for you by now.

“yes, but be quiet, would you?” you hissed, retracting your hand to curtain your face with your hair, avoiding the curious gazes amongst the patrons.

he blinked at you, leaning back on his chair. he observed your appearance for a bit before snorting, “your hair, it’s uneven!”

your face flushed a deep shade of red, your hand automatically clutching your hair. you scowled at him, “how long have you been aching to tell me that?”

he chuckled, “ever since you took off your wig,” seeing that you rolled your eyes, he continued, “don’t worry, y/n, you look quite beauteous, if i must say.”

“i don’t require you to flatter me, regulus,” you scoffed, grabbing your mug to take a drink, though before the rim of the mug reached your lips, regulus set a few galleons down on the table and spoke up, “as fun as it was to meet you, your highness, i’ve got some places to go,”

“what?”

“good luck with this endeavor of yours, but i mustn’t risk being one of your accomplices,” he quipped, wearing his sweater, “fare thee well.”

it took you a moment to finish your drink and grab your things before leaving the low-lit pub. your eyes searched amongst the throng of people, trying to catch the sight of his brunette curls.

you hurried beside him, trying to avoid bumping into the others. you grew quite fond of the handsome lad who ran with you, despite the fact that he was still nothing but an enigma to you.

“mind if i join you?” you sought, clasping your hands in front of you, walking side-by-side with him.

regulus groaned silently, he looked down at you and sarcastically replied, “it’s a free country,”

you rolled your eyes and responded with a retort of your own, “actually, it’s a monarchy occupied by foreign oppressors.”

he ignored your sardonic comment and asked you a question to defuse the gauche atmosphere, “why’d you run away, princess?”

you looked at him, “y’know, i’m not really obliged to answer your question,”

“i… am well aware of that,” he huffed amusingly, “but given the fact that we’re going merlin knows where, i’d rather have a conversation going than walking in utter silence.”

regulus had a gist of why you ran away, assuming that you had the same reason as him.

you laughed softly before staring at your white tennis shoes, “‘ve been betrothed, and i was s’pposed to meet the lucky bloke who’ll have my hand in marriage,”

regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“what about you, regulus?” you asked, “why were you running away?”

“oh,” he let out a nervous laugh, “i- stealing.”

you gave him a keen look, “i used that excuse not too long ago, if you’ve forgotten,”

he smiled tensely, “f’real though, the prince owed me something, and i’d be pleased if he returned the favor.”

you huffed, not sure if you’d believe him, but thankfully for regulus, you caught sight of your palace guards questioning some people about your whereabouts, “shit,”

you immediately linked your arm with his and whispered, “palace guards, let’s go. just- act normal,”

he carefully unhooked your hold, opting to snake his arm around your waist instead, evidently making both of you flustered.

you let out a sigh of relief when you passed by them without causing any havoc, though it was short-lived when one of them called out, “excuse me, sir, ma’am?”

the both of you continued walking, slightly hurrying your steps.

regulus hauled a carriage and helped you get in, “godric’s hollow, please,”

the guards left standing behind, one of them writing down the descriptions of the suspicious couple and the carriage they’re in.

“where are we?” you asked, looking up at the lovely cottage amongst the rows of houses.

regulus sighed, “godric’s hollow,” he walked up from the gate and knocked on their doorstep, stepping back to wait for someone to open the door.

you hummed, “alright, but what exactly’re we doing here?”

merlin must’ve been on his side again because before he could even reply, a beautiful red-headed woman opened the door.

she must’ve been taken aback for a moment because her eyebrows shot up and mouth agape. she stuttered, “i- regulus, hey,”

“evans,” he nodded politely, “is, erm, sirius with you?”

she licked her lips, “it’s actually potter now,” she showed her wedding ring, “and uhm, yes, give me a moment.”

she shuffled back inside, letting the door open but didn’t make a move to invite you in.

“she’s lovely,” you jutted out your bottom lip.

“reggie?” another man, another attractive man, whom you were assuming was sirius, inquired.

“sirius,” he greeted.

the tension was so thick that you could feel it enveloping you with warmth. or that may just be because of the additional presence of the bespectacled man behind the redhead.

“i don’t mean to be rude but are we all going to just stand in here,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, “or are you gonna let us in?”

sirius looked at you in wonder, “i- oh, yes, yeah!”

the man whose presence was still looming over, blinked at him, a small smile tugging at his lips as he huffed amusingly at his best friend, letting you in. you looked around the house, the atmosphere giving you a sense of comfort and a feeling of home you’ve never felt.

“james potter,” he grinned at you, “and this is my lovely wife, lily.”

“y/n l/n, the heiress of dia--” you paused, “actually, it’s just y/n. sorry, force of habit.” you chuckled sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as they looked at you in surprise.

you wondered if you could trust that they wouldn’t send you back to your kingdom.

“you’re the crowned princess of diagon?” lily spluttered.

you smiled bashfully, “i may or may not be?”

“merlin, what’re you doing here? guards’re all over the place, knocking on doors n’all,” sirius remarked, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i also may or may not have ran away?” you grinned, scrunching your nose which both the black brothers found quite endearing.

“i would love to continue the chit chat, but d’you mind letting us stay here for a while?” regulus interrupted, but before they could even answer, a knock was heard from the door, “diagon sovereignty wards, we’ve got a couple of questions to ask.”

you cursed silently, sirius and lily quietly ushered you into the living room whilst james went to get the door.

“good evening, sir, we’ve been alerted that you’ve had some contact with these people?” a guard asked, pulling up a sketch of you and regulus.

james smiled warmly, “i’m sorry, but i reckon you’ve got the wrong person. ‘tis just me and my wife, and my best mate in ‘ere,”

they nodded politely, “that’ll be all. thank you, sir, have a great evening.”

as soon as he closed the door, james sauntered back into the living room, looking at the worrying looks on your and regulus’ faces.

he and lily exchanged glances before she smiled softly, “i’ll go prepare the guest room.”

it was deep into the night, the potter household was surrounded by a quiet and serene atmosphere as the people living in it had already dozed off, yet you and regulus were far from drifting off to a dreamy slumber.

both of you had your backs against the headboard of the queen-sized bed you were supposed to share, staring into the void of nothingness as you let the comfortable aura rage around you.

“regulus?” you whispered. as if once you’ve spoken even a tad bit louder, the brittleness of the atmosphere would break.

he turned to look at you, “yeah?”

“what’s your biggest regret in life?” you wondered, voice laced with drowsiness. the adrenaline from a while ago slowly fading away, now being replaced with exhaustion.

regulus pondered for a moment. he had a lot of regrets, letting his parents abuse him and sirius, letting sirius just leave him alone in the dark and lonely castle, not living his best childhood. he had plenty, and lying to you was one of them.

he hummed, “i suppose being a coward,”

you fluffed your pillows and lowered yourself on the bed. you yawned, “i don’t think you’re a coward, regulus. after all, you just ran away with a princess.”

regulus looked at you fondly, watching as you slowly succumbed to sleep. he smiled softly, “yeah,”

your stay with the potters, and sirius, has been wonderful. you’ve felt more at home in godric’s hollow than in your palace. no amount of grandeur wealth would compare to the amount of love and belonging you’ve felt in your sojourn.

regulus has successfully managed to keep their mouths shut about him being a prince as well. the conversation and intention still went unnoticed by you.

you and lily have been the bestest of friends. the sweet girl that made you feel more at home than anyone else could, an evident friendship blossoming into a charming one.

james and sirius welcomed you into their arms as if you were one of their long-lost mates, and quite literally if you must say. they locked you beneath their armpits and ruffled your hair one game night.

you were convinced that james was the human embodiment of a ball of sunshine, never failing to put a smile on your faces. sirius had more of a flirty demeanor, which you’ve brushed off with a quip or two of your own.

“does the princess have a prince charming or do i have to step up?”

“not every prince is charming, sirius.”

and regulus— you’ve grown closer to regulus than you’ve ever had with anyone, getting to know each other more, spending more late nights talking about everything and nothing, and not that any of you would admit it, but inevitably falling in love was part of the list.

you and lily were in her room, she was lending you some clothes to wear as all of you have made a plan to go to the market fair in town.

james was on the phone with remus, asking him to meet up at the place whilst sirius and regulus were in the living room, catching up after a few years of not seeing each other.

sirius has grown quite fond of the princess. not that he was catching feelings, but a date wouldn’t sound too bad, if he must say, so he asked his brother, “d’you reckon y/n would fancy a date w’me? maybe i could bring her to hogsmeade,”

and to say that he was dumbstruck when he heard that was an understatement, “what? no, you can’t,”

sirius looked at him with a confused expression, “how come?”

regulus hesitated, “she’s… betrothed.”

the eldest black brother scoffed, “yeah, t’you, and she doesn’t even know that you’re that bloke,”

regulus shook his head, sitting up straight as he heard your giggles from upstairs, “just- don’t, sirius.”

padfoot grinned at his brother in realization, “by the love of merlin! you love her, don’t you?” he teased, bumping their shoulders together.

“let’s go, handsomes, i’m not getting any younger here!” you laughed. regulus thought you looked angelic, the white dress hugging your curves in the most surreal way possible, the smile on your face proving that any blue day would get better with just a glimpse of it.

“this isn’t over, reggie,” sirius sang mockingly, getting up and linking his arm with yours.

the market fair in godric’s hollow is incredibly enchanting. fairy lights were hanging above the booths, multitudes of colorful stalls, the smell of the amazing street food, and the bubbly spirits of the people mingling around had you in a state of awe.

you went in separate groups, lily with james, sirius went off to find remus, and you were stuck with regulus— not that you were complaining, really.

you dragged regulus by one of the stalls that sold clothes, wanting to buy a few to avoid borrowing more from lily.

you were currently strolling around with him, your shopping bags in his hold as he insisted to carry them for you.

whilst you stopped to look at the fancy daggers, regulus caught sight of a gorgeous necklace. convincing himself that it would only take a few minutes, he left your side and onto the booth to buy the jewelry for you.

once you’ve managed to choose a design, you paid for the dagger and strapped it on your thigh with the holster you bought, “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

when he didn’t reply, you looked up to where he was standing just a few moments ago to find that he wasn’t by your side.

you crooned your neck to look around but instead of seeing him, you saw your palace guards slowly approaching you.

you cursed, turning around and running away from them, making them step up quickly and ran after you.

“regulus!” you called out, hoping that he’ll hear you.

“regulus!” you tried once more, and he finally heard you. he immediately pocketed the paid necklace and dropped the bags as he tried to run after you, “y/n!” but it was too late.

the guards were already surrounding you, two of them managed to carry you to a carriage while you thrashed around, “let me go! i don’t want to go back, please!” you cried, “regulus!”

regulus was running around the big plaza, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from.

the carriage was already a menacing dot as it continued to advance forward, leaving regulus frustrated and broken.

“what were you thinking running away like that?” your father barked, pacing back and forth on the castle’s lounge, “d’you know how ashamed we were when we found out that you snuck off? even more so whe-”

your father stopped talking when your mother gave him a stern look. an expression you know all too well when they didn’t want you to know something.

“it came to our attention that you ran away with regulus, yes?” your mother asked, giving you a tense smile.

you didn’t answer. looking at your parents with hatred as your eyes blurred with tears.

she sighed, “well, if you must know, he was the one who called for the guards. he knew about the huge amount of payment if someone gave you up. he contacted the palace guards before you even stepped foot in that repugnant marketplace.”

“no,” you let out a teary laughed, “regulus would never do that,”

he would never. especially after all those moments you’ve shared, those constant touches, the sneaky eye contacts. he would never.

“no? then where was he when you called for him?” your mother scoffed, a sly smirk on her face.

you glared at them, taking a shaky breath, “i-”

she tutted, “i’m not done just yet, my dear daughter. you will be married to lord riddle, on the contrary, seeing that the walburga and orion’s son was quite… negligent,”

“i will not be married to anyone!” you objected, “if there’s anyone i’d rather get married to, it would be regulus.”

your mother let out a cackle, “quite amusing if you asked me, dear, because regulus was the prince you were supposed to marry!”

you froze, managing to croak out a small, “what?”

your father chuckled, “oh, don’t tell me he didn’t tell you that?”

you swallowed the forming lump in your throat, “i hope you rot in hell.”

your mother scowled at you, “guards! bring her to the room.”

“i don’t need bodyguards surrounding me all the time, mother,” you spat, “i may be of the royal bloodline, but i am no weakling.”

“... and don’t forget to tie her up,” she smirked.

before you could even react, you were hauled up by your arms, screaming at them to let you go.

you made sure to give them a hard time while they walked up the stairs. once arriving at your room, they threw you on the carpeted floor with a right thump.

you flailed around, whimpering as they tied your arms and legs, “stop, stop, stop. please,” but they paid you no mind, leaving you alone in the dark.

after a few hours of trying to remove the rope from your limbs, and a few chaffings later, you ultimately gave up on trying. you didn’t know what your parents’ plan was but you were quite grateful for the noise and crashing outside your door.

crawling a bit towards your door, your forearm brushed against something rough on your thighs. you cursed yourself for being dense, and lifted your dress a bit, carefully grabbing your new rose gold dagger from its holster.

when you heard the jingling of your door, you hastily tried to cut the rope from your wrists.

you cussed as you dropped it on the floor, you tried to get a hold of it once more when the door suddenly burst open.

“y/n!” regulus breathed out in relief, he rushed by your side, grabbing your fallen dagger and cutting the ropes. your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, before turning your gaze to the man you’ve fallen in love with, the same man who lied to you.

sirius approached the both of you, trying to tell you to hurry up before the guards caught up with them, “let’s go!”

“are you alright?” regulus asked, cupping your face in his hands.

you glared at him, rubbing your arms to soothe the burning, “don’t touch me.”

you stood up, grabbing the dagger from his hand, and placed it back on your holster. you snatched your satchel from the floor and started packing a few necessities that could fit in.

regulus looked at you in confusion and hurt, standing up as you shuffled around the room, “what’s wrong?”

you ignored him, shoving past him, and made your way towards sirius, who just shrugged at his brother.

the three of you sneaked past the guards and the members of the order, successfully escaping and meeting up with lily and james at the entrance.

“oh, merlin!” lily brought you in a hug, “are you alright, y/n?”

“lily,” you breathed out, hugging her back. you closed your eyes in relief, letting out a teary laugh, “i’m alright, don’t worry,”

“we’ve got to go, they’ll catch up soon enough if we don’t leave,” james said, “‘m sure frank and the rest got ‘em distracted for a while.”

arriving back at the potter household, they let you retire back at the guest room, regulus following in suit.

“hey, y/n, what’s wrong?” regulus asked, grabbing your arm so you’re facing him.

you looked at him in anger and hurt, “you lied to me!”

“wha- what did i lie about? i don’t understand,” regulus was dumbstruck, he didn’t know what you were talking about until he remembered all about the betrothal. he looked down in guilt.

“stop the act, regulus. you were the one i was supposed to marry,” you whispered, “why did you lie to me?”

regulus sighed, sitting down on the bed as he ran a hand through his hair, “i was scared, alright? i was scared because i fell for you, y/n, and when i found out that you didn’t want to marry me, i didn’t know what to do… so i lied because i was afraid that you’d go if i told you that i was the prince.”

“and it’s terrifying how i would’ve given you the stars if you asked,” he chuckled softly, “but i chose to keep that to myself because that’s how much of a coward i am…”

“reg, i didn’t even know that it was you,” you frowned, expression softening as you sat down beside him, “and i frankly don’t care about the stars, or anything at all, honestly, because all i want is you, regulus,”

“don’t be so sure about that, y/n,” he breathed out, “if you’ve known that it was me, you wouldn’t agree to marry me.”

“you’re right,” you nodded, smiling softly, “i wouldn’t marry you because of some stupid betrothal, i’d marry you because i love you, regulus black, and i know f’myself that you’re the man that i would love to spend the rest of my life with.”

he looked at you with adoration and love in his eyes, a small smile adorning his lips.

regulus tucked the loose strand of hair behind your hair, his eyes shifting from your eyes down to your lips, “may i?”

not trusting your words, you nodded instead, slowly leaning in. regulus cupped the side of your face with his hand, your hand running through his brown curls as the both of you drew closer. eyes fluttering close as you felt the soft, warmth of his lips caress your own.

after a few moments, he pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead against your own, smiling softly at the result of the sudden revelations and confessions.

“let’s run away, regulus,” you whispered, “away from here and our wretched parents.”

“yeah?” he chuckled softly, “where’d you want to go, m’love?”

“italy.”

“... and they lived happily ever after.” you smiled softly.

“mum, what happened in italy?” your daughter asked, hugging her teddy bear as she looked up at you and regulus with her doe eyes.

regulus hummed, “they settled down in florence, italy, with the help of the marauders-”

“dad, who are the marauders?” your son questioned, exchanging looks with his sister and his cousin, harry.

“they’re the best friends of the prince and princess, orion,” james grinned, snaking his arm around lily’s waist.

“what happened next, aunt y/n?”

“well, they had a small wedding by the beach, they traveled around the world, had kids, and are now telling their stories to their adorable kids and godson,” you smiled, “and the said kids and godson should be asleep in the next five minutes.”

the three of them let out simultaneous groans. you, regulus, and the marauders had small smiles on your faces, finding the situation amusing.

“good night, my darlings, we love you,” you and regulus kissed their foreheads and tucked them in bed, as lily and james did the same with harry.

after ensuring that they were fast asleep, you and the rest went back down to the living room.

sirius grinned, grabbing the firewhiskeys and crisps out of the bag, “they finally went to sleep?”

“yeah,” you smiled, fiddling with the moonstone necklace regulus bought you from the fair, “guess our story worked perfectly fine as a bedtime tale, didn’t it, reggie?”

“indeed it did, m’love,” he kissed the top of your head, sitting down on the couch for your traditional game night.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyyy @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @sw33tgirl @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirly @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

marauders taglist: @sweetnspicysimp @cherie-draco @eunoniaa @acosmis-t @amrtxntias @cedrics-grave @dracosgoodgirl @msmb

#scheduled #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #regulus #black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus x you #regulus x y/n #regulus x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black fluff #regulus black one shot #regulus black blurb #regulus black angst #sophiasfam #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

[pilot-boi]

*materialises in front of the adults, away from Cinder*

Quick, we need to take Jaune's tracker and move it somewhere far away. Maybe Pietro could take it in his car? Get it to a hotel or something, somewhere far away. Otherwise Salem will still be able to track Jaune, even though it's been removed.

Also, how is Penny? Is she doing okay? Is she badly hurt?

🌺

You appear directly in front of Tai and Raven, and they jump. “By the lost gods!” Raven swears, jumping a foot. “Warn is the next time you decide to do that!”

“Jaune’s tracker?” Tai asks, frowning. Raven is cursing your name under her breath, but Tai ignores her. “He had a tracker? He’s a person, not a freaking dog!”

“Well, technically the Arcs are dog hybrids,” Raven says, still glaring at you.

“Oh shut up, Rae,” Tai snaps. “Is the tracker here? In the hospital?” he asks. You nod, and he runs a hand through his hair, glancing down the hallway. “Okay, I’ll go with you and get the thing out of here. Raven, take Cinder to the room and then-”

“Oh hell no, I’m coming with you!” Raven says, turning to face him. “No way am I letting you take the literal danger magnet away and get attacked by yourself!”

“Rae-” Tai sighs, looking weary, but Raven cuts him off.

“No!” she yells. Several people in the hallway, turn and stare before continuing on their way. “Going alone is what got Summer killed!” Tai stumbles back like she hit him. “I’m not letting that happen to you!”

Tai’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. How does he say that Summer isn’t dead? How does he tell the woman he loves that the love of both of their lives is worse than dead?

“Please, Tai,” Raven says, one hand on his arm. “I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

He looks down at her, and she stares up at him. “You’re right,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead on hers. “You’re always right.”

“Damn right I am,” she chuckles, tears on the edge of her laughter.

Zwei barks at them, ruining the moment, and the two of them jump apart like kids getting caught under the bleachers. “You two finished?” Cinder asks, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Yeah. You know the way to the room?” Raven asks, nodding down the hallway. Cinder nods, pulling the dog tighter into her arms. “Cool. You go there, the kids will keep you safe.” 

Cinder scoffs derisively, but starts off down the hallway anyway.

“You and me?” She looks up at Tai, and grabs his hand. “Let’s get that tracker out of here, and protect our kids.”

#rwby #raven branwen #taiyang xiao long #poly str #cinder fall #questions from the facility #faau #anonymous #mine #asks

[internalsealpanic]

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary:  Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror.  Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there. 

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric. 

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap. 

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare. 

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more  concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure.  “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.”  You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction. 

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4  and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,”  you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look.  “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit. 

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,”  you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes.  “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that.  “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?” 

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app- 

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He  whispers an indiscernible  ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.  

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle. 

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine. 

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim. 

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow. 

You laugh, he’s sure this time. 

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click. 

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course. 

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you 

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right? 

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it.  There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass. 

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?” 

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging. 

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack  of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else. 

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs. 

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh … fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming. 

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded.  He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo.   He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually. 

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta  keep it realistic, yanno?”  Steph and Duke keep bickering. 

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says,  clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm.  Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue. 

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor. 

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering. 

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.  

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush. 

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve. 

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is  louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a  wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile. 

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers. 

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck. 

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted. 

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?” 

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation.  Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge. 

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder. 

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed. 

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is. 

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right.  “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.  

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume. 

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face. 

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of  a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on  the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you.  “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this. 

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick. 

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn. 

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass. 

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands)  at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child." 

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!" 

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair. 

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side. 

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle. 

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes. 

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest.  "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything. 

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced. 

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest.  You all follow his movements with interest. 

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head. 

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering. 

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be.  Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work. 

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn  from an irate Damian. 

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares.  Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.” 

“Why would you trust a clown?” 

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently. 

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph.  Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests. 

 You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!” 

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses. 

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you.  “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers.  Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand.  “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests. 

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.” 

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs.  “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie. 

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head. 

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs. 

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner. 

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?" 

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes. 

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers. 

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad. 

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in  contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary." 

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn. 

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll  get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat." 

"Dick…" 

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?" 

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd." 

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!" 

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES." 

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning. 

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests. 

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion." 

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick. 

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?" 

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers. 

"Chum, you're not even a teenager." 

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout. 

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol." 

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder. 

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.  

"That was one time, you assholes!" 

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?" 

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough. 

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!" 

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach." 

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one." 

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?" 

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off.  “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.” 

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her. 

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair. 

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”  

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