#but wanted to make at least a little something this year too

[colonelarr0w]

I love your writing so much!!

Can I request some comfort Sukuna where he finally breaks down the walls around readers heart who has been hurt previously years before…reader made him wonder why they didn’t ever let him see them cry before and that bothered him.

Sypnosis - Love wasn't for everyone, you had long since accepted that fact. But ... were you really okay with being alone?

Warning(s) - None besides mature themes and some foul language.

A/N - Oh my god I loved this request so much. Reader is definitely a little bit too much like me in this one, but it's okay because at least she somewhat fixed her issues!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Love wasn't for everyone. 

That was a hard pill to swallow, but it was one that you had swallowed after so many years of being constantly disappointed. One after the other, it was as if the heavens above were taunting you. Either that, or they were punishing you for some heinous crime. 

Even though you wanted so desperately to experience what everyone else did; stolen glances, random flowers, gentle kisses, passionate sex, late-night dates … you had just come to the conclusion that no matter what you did, it just wasn't for you.  

And you were okay with that. 

Yet, it was annoying to then hear others come to you spewing their bullshit. 

"You just haven't met the one yet!"  "Don't worry, love will come to you when you least expect it." 

"Trust me. The moment that you stop looking for love, it comes to find you." 

"You're quiet," Sukuna says harshly, dropping his finished cigarette onto the ground and snuffing out its orange hue with the toe of his boot. Your head jerks upward, blinking for a moment before you clear your throat – you hadn't meant to fall into a daydream.  

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm okay," you answer quickly, lifting your own half-finished cigarette to your lips and inhaling. You hoped that the smoke would ease your nerves, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.  

Sukuna's eyes roam over your figure, his mind taking notes on your expression and body language. Your eyebrows are pinched together, eyes flickering to look at anything but him, your lips are turned downward in a frown that he somewhat wishes would go away. Your shoulders are stiff, back standing as straight as a line. Your hands are shaking. 

"Tch," he clicks his tongue, turning his body and half-stepping towards you. His fingers close over your wrist, pulling the cigarette away from your lips. "You're a shitty liar." 

Your eyes cast themselves to the ground, embarrassment heating your cheeks. He falters, but he toes out your cigarette anyway, then turning to face forward again – he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are.  

"What are you thinking about?" he asks after a beat of silence, hanging his arms over the railing of your apartment's balcony. Your eyes flicker to him for a moment, silently admiring the way that the moonlight illuminates his face and the tattoos inked into his skin.  

"Nothing that would interest you." 

Not when it comes to you. Talk to me, he wants to say. But the words fall dead on his tongue. He doesn't turn his head to look at you, only humming in acknowledgement.  

Another beat of silence passes over you and Sukuna. It gets you wondering … did he even like being around you? After all, the only reason why he kept meeting you after work was because he had offered you a ride home. In return, you offered him cigarettes. A fair trade. 

"Interesting or not," he hesitates, biting his tongue, "'s not good when you keep all that stuff in." 

You freeze, hands tightening their hold on the railing as you stare out at the cityscape. Already you can feel tears beginning to gather along your waterline. You try your hardest to swallow them away, but nothing.  

"I-I said it was fine," you manage to choke out, trying to subtly wipe at your eyes. Sukuna notices … he always did.  

He reaches into his pocket for something, then nudging your arm with a handkerchief closed between his fingers. You take it, mumbling a quiet thanks before wiping your eyes with it. "I'm sorry." 

Sukuna doesn't answer, he doesn't have to. It's more of a silent understanding that yes, something is bothering you, but in your own time you would open up to him about it. Maybe it wouldn't be tonight, maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow … but eventually, you would.  

He shrugs in response to your apology. "Nothin' to apologize for." 

Another beat of silence passes over you both, this one more comfortable than the last. Sukuna reaches into his pocket, taking out the cigarettes that you had given him. He opens the box with his thumb, hesitating on taking another one out.  

You eye the box out of the corner of your eye … it was the only reason he even came into your apartment, wasn't it? 

To your shock, he drops the box off of the edge of the balcony, watching it through half-lidded eyes as it falls out of sight. You turn your head to look at him, finding him already staring at you.  

Neither of you say anything.    

One minute turns into two, two into four, four into six.  

"Y'know, I get the whole … wanting to be alone thing," Sukuna says, turning away from you so that he wouldn't have to look at your slightly pained expression. He leans further against the railing, gaze focusing on the blinking lights of a nearby billboard.  

"You can tell yourself all you want that you want to be alone," he finally turns to you, "but do you really want that?" 

You freeze, eyes wide like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Blankly, you stare at him, mind struggling to mull over what he had just asked you.  

Did you really want to be alone? 

"I-" You pause, swallowing the lump that had settled in the center of your throat. "I don't." 

With that, Sukuna swallows all of his pride and tugs you into his arms. You fold into him, nails biting into the back of his leather jacket – the one that reeks of smoke and of must. But at the same time, those two comforting smells remind you that right now, in this moment, you aren't truly alone.  

Do y'all want a part two of this? Or like a series of Sukuna and !Non-Trusting girlfriend? 

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfiction #sukuna ryomen fanfiction #sukuna fanfiction

[wixenburr]

Saw some ppl talking about Reverse Robins and i had thoughts

Talking abt u guys @eldritchdreamss @brucewaynehater101

Why kill Tim when you could kill baby Jason? What I want is for all of them to keep their own backstories and personalities (Developed in line with the story of course) So ofc i had to write a 1,000 word brainrot abt it.

(Also i'll only be going over the main 4 batbros for now i will add more later but these guys are the ones im most passionate about so here we go)

Damian

Let Damian come in, desperate to be of use and be worthy of his father, only for a softer, less jaded bruce (since jason hasnt died yet) to help him open up his heart and let him act as a kid. With no competition for so long, I imagine he and Bruce get along very well while he works with him. Yeah, they need to work on the no killing deal and Damian's... i guess impulse control? But i think it would be easier with very intensely focused reparenting; no distractions of other kids you know? No favoring or anything.

I see Damian growing up as a stoic, jaded adult. He's had a rough life. Maybe he sticks with the vigilante business. but I really love headcanons where he gets out of it, and focuses on something calmer, like his art. (I do appreciate and love the veterinarian Damian AUs, but im going for FULL calmness, you know? And doctor/vet work is Not calm lol)

So yeah, maybe he grows a real passion for heroism, maybe he doesn't? Maybe he goes on to be an artist and that's just what he does. Bro is ready to settle down as a scarred, veteran trophy husband and i adore him for that.

(Sorry lol i just love Damian and i love the idea of him growing out of both of his parent's legacies. Let him live his own life!!! He fights so so hard for at least 15 years. ALL 15 years of his life. He deserves to have some peace.)

Tim

Tim i think would need a much different story to join the Batfam. He still starts out as a stalker who follows batman and. . . . . . . Redimar (meaning Redemption iykyk (I just spend 17min researching names rip)) at night, takes photos, etc... Since Damian doesn't die, maybe he finds Tim? and like, tim is like 11 and Damian is 17 or 18. He's started going out as Redimar less and less, not that B really minds? In fact hes probably happy for his son so...

But then Damian finds Tim, and now he has to keep going out because he can't let this kid get himself killed like this. He would hold himself accountable since hes the only reason Tim keeps going out so much- also i imagine Tim follows Redimar more than Batman.

Cue a classic Tim Joining The Batfam plotline. They get to know each other better, get a grasp on Tim's situation, Damian finally introduces Tim to Bruce... (Probably something like Dami: "Father, this is my new brother. Timothy, say hello to Father," Tim: "Hello, Father," Dami: "Perfect." Bruce: "*falls off the batchair*)

Anyway, so, Tim ends up kinda just merging with the Waynes. They start training him, its all good and nice, and Tim makes his own little hero team unlike Damian, which is actually pretty interesting here; its Tim who made the first young hero team. Damian only ever had Jon (Superboy 1 in this!!) and he finds Young Just Us and becomes a great leader and its all fine and dandy.

Tim and Damian get along well. Damian is the sage older brother whos kinda distant, but only because he has such high emotional walls (but secretly a softy). He is very much like Bruce- nope, nevermind, hes definitely worse than Bruce in this AU, since Bruce is depicted as being much more agreeable before Jason's death, you know? So yeah, Damian is the emotionally constipated bitch in the fam and we love him for that. But hey!! Tim does manage to get through his walls! And Bruce does sometimes too!! (Tho i imagine Bruce and Damian's relationship to be very.. idk let me try to expalain. Dami: "Father." Bruce: "Son :)" Dami: "Tt." Bruce: *nods* "Hrn." Dami: "Hmph." Bruce: "Hm.") DO U PICK UP WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN--- lmfao. They hardly need words.

Tim ends up growing up very very capable. Once his parents die, he gets a little jaded, but hes still Tim. He and Damian become kind of an... ice prince duo? If you get what I mean. But Tim is the one whos actually the ice prince, Damian is secretly a HUGE softie. He is Delicate and Tim protects him lmfao.

Jason

Jason comes along like he does in canon. Has the same backstory. Tries to steal the Batmobile's wheels. Tim is sleeping over at Damian's flat for the night, so its just Bruce. They bond. Shit happens. Jason joins the fam.

I don't imagine them not getting along, but they don't immediately hit it off either. Jason is wary of all of them for a time, but he ends up warming up to Damian pretty fast after realizing what a softie he is. He pokes fun at Damian and Damian just freaking takes it lmao. Hes an adult he cannot be disturbed. Bro has seen too much and he finds Jason adorable. (Dami: "You were never this cute, Timothy." <- he is lying. Tim: *offended* "What the fu- flip!?" Jason: "Lmao Tim just say fuck." Dami: *deadpan stare* Tim: "JASON NO DONT SAY THE FUCK WORD-") ahem.

anywho and then Jason dies rip skill issue ratio.

The whole batfam is heartbroken. Genuinely shattered. Jason was a light in their lives. Not that they were WITHOUT any light, but Jason was the epitome of a sunshine child.

It's been too long since Damian has killed someone. Bro's god oodles and oodles of trauma. He can't bring himself to kill the Joker.

but Tim can.

It's a whole dramatic thing; Damian feels awful that he made his- now only- little brother kill. Bruce is hella upset but feels responsible for not seeing how badly both of his kids were handling the death of their brother. Tim goes a little off the deep end.

Things turn out.... okay. sort of. but not really. Tim changes his hero name to Red Cardinal. He feels pretty lost. Maybe he stumbles into Ra's al Ghul or smthn idk maybe smthn happens there perhaps. Maybe Damian has to put on Redimar again and rescue him? But its less of a rescue and more of a "Stop joining the dark side Tim jesus christ-" (and it does work).

They go home. Tim gets a boyfriend or two. Damian falls into his art. Bruce is throwing himself into work. They're all kind of a mess, but they keep moving.

and then

Dick

(lmao that sounded wrong)

ahem; and then the circus comes to town. The batfam- well, Tim, Damian, and Bruce- all decide to get together to do something fun. Take the opportunities given, yk? So they go to the circus together.

Wham bam rip the falling Flying Graysons.

They see Dick, breaking apart, and they know they have to do something. Bruce is the first to move. Then Tim. Damian is the last.

It's pretty quick getting Dick home, since Bruce is already a foster parent cuz of Tim yk. So Dick doesn't have to suffer in Juvie at all really. But that doesn't change the fact that he is ANGRY.

Dick is SO angry. he wants to kill the person who murdered his parents. He knows what he saw.

The fam of course do their best to investigate. Mostly Tim, who feels unworthy of being around an innocent little kid after his whole.... villain era, i suppose lol. (ofc Dick thinks Tim doesnt like him lol misunderstanding arc GO)

The whole "Dick accepts that justice is better than murder kinda maybe FOR NOW" storyline happens, and Dick becomes the conniving, bright, little Robin we all know and love. (Thinking of the Young Justice Cartoon Robin (but not the characters- just Dick's character) aaaand

Womp womp GUESS WHOS BACK

Jason's Back

but i'll leave that for later.

#my writing #personal #batfam #reverse robins #batman #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batbros #batkids #batfam fanfic

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Dirty Thoughts

Summary: It was so wrong to have these thoughts. She was engaged to your boss, your best friend but it was impossible to not fall in love with her.

Relationships: Natasha x Maria, Maria x reader

Warnings: non Avenger AU, Gang AU, cheating, lots of cheating, mention of violence, implied torture, implied sexual content, gun shot wound, blood, angst

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: I do not want to talk about how this one shot made me spiral into possibility writing a multiple part story. If you are interested let me know lol. Also, thank you to @sycamorelibrary754 for helping me with the engagement ring

God, you were so fucked. Absolutely 100% fucked. You stood at the party, hand wrapped around the beer you were drinking. At a party, your job was to be alert and look for possible threats. Tonight was different. Tonight was a party for celebration as the head of the Black Widow gang was engaged to her long-time girlfriend, Maria Hill. You were in charge of Natasha's security, so the redhead placed you in charge of Maria's protection. You grew close to her, learning her every secret, dislike, and like. You knew her coffee order, what ice cream to get when she was on her period, and her favorite movie to put on to make her smile. You loved your job. Natasha took a chance on you and saved your life, which makes your current predicament so much worse.

No one knew you were head over heels in love with Maria Hill. No one could ever know. "I'm pretty sure Nat gave everyone the night off." You were so lost in your thoughts that you were surprised by Maria standing before you. "I think I saw Pietro doing a keg stand." You chuckled and sipped your beer.

"I'm always on the clock, sweetheart. Got to keep the crown jewel of the Black Widows safe." Maria rolled her eyes, but you didn't miss the slight blush on her cheeks. "Congratulations, by the way. That's an impressive rock." The ring was gold with a square-cut diamond. Along the band and the main diamond were smaller jewels. It looked expensive, but that was Natasha. She liked expensive things, from clothes to cars to liquor. Before Maria, the redhead was always at the clubs throwing money at women left and right. She looked at her hand.

"A little too flashy for my taste," you knew that too. She wanted something modest. "But Nat likes to claim what's hers." You hated how your stomach burned with jealousy.

"Oh, I know that. Besides, Romanoff has enough money lying around. She should spend it on something," you smiled. "Hey, maybe you can convince her to take us on vacation. I heard the Maldives are beautiful this time of year." A quick smack to the back of your head caused you to jump. Maria laughed as Natasha rounded from behind and wrapped her arms around Maria's waist.

"Are you saying I don't treat you well?" She smirked.

"You treat us like shit, boss," you deadpanned. "I hate it here." You winked at Maria. Her smile caused your heart to skip a beat. Natasha scuffed, placing her chin on Maria's shoulder.

"You know I saved your life. I could have left you on the streets of New York, but out of the kindness of my heart, I gave you a job." You rolled your eyes.

"And here I thought you liked me for my charming personality and good looks," you smirked. She narrowed her eyes at you, pointing at you over Maria.

"I'm going to kick your ass, Sentinel,"

"Darling," Maria placed her on Natasha's chest. "You know she could kick your ass." You had to hide your smirk behind your drink.

"Unbelievable," Natasha mumbled.

"Go go have a good night, you lovebirds," you said. "You know where to find me if you need me." You held out your hand for Natasha. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you." And you were. No matter how much it hurt for Natasha to be marrying Maria, you would always be happy for her. At least Maria would still be in your life. Instead of shaking your hand, your boss pulled you into a hug.

"Enjoy yourself tonight. I heard a certain captain wanted your attention," you chuckled, but you looked at Maria, who was frowning. Thinking she was angry at you for hugging Natasha, you patted her back and ended the hug.

"Use protection," you told them as Natasha grabbed Maria's hand and returned to the party. Natasha still managed to flip you off. All members of the Black Widow crew were given code names. Carol was Captain Marvel. Peggy was Agent 13. Monica was Photon. You were Sentinel, the vigilant guardian who watched over the gang's safety. It was Maria who gave it to you.

It was late one night, and you were new to protecting Maria. Before she started Natasha, Maria was studying to get into the academy. She spent a lot of her time at the library, so in turn, you spent a lot of time there as well. When you were walking back to the car, two street thugs tried and failed to jump her. You were quick to take them down before they could even touch her. Sentinel was a name everyone called you, and it became a name that was feared on the streets.

The same night you saved her, you realized that your thoughts and feelings towards Maria were not platonic. Everything Maria and Natasha had you wanted. Now the ring on her finger solidified she could never be yours.

*

"Can you pick Maria up from her father's?" Natasha asked you. "I have a meeting with the Maximoff Twins, and I can't get out of it." You frowned. A part of your job was to know the schedules of Natasha and Maria. There was no meeting with the Maximoffs today; you knew that. Instead, Natasha and Maria had a date planned. Nothing was set in stone in this business. The redhead rolled her sleeves and picked up a knife from the table.

"Yeah, I can do that," you put on a pair of latex gloves. "Do you want me to take her back to the house?" She handed you a knife.

"It's up to her. Take the card and get whatever she wants." She rolled her shoulders and faced the man tied to the chair in the center of the room. "Ready, Sentinel?"

"Always boss."

*

Once you were changed and out of the blood-stained shirt, you made your way to Maria. You relieved the lower-level member and walked up the house's front steps. Before you knocked, the door swung open. "Fury," you smiled at the man. "How's my favorite beat cop?" He frowned.

"You smell of bleach." He deadpanned.

"Just a new perfume I'm trying out," you squeezed past him, and you heard the door close. Nick Fury, the commissioner of the NYPD, was surprised when Natasha started dating his daughter, but she did everything for a reason. At first, it was a tactical relationship, a way to bend the relationship between the NYPD and the Black Widows. Over time, Natasha fell in love with Maria.

You found Maria in the kitchen, her back to you as she washed the dishes. "Who would have thought an engagement would turn you into a housewife?" She jumped and dropped the plate into the water. A frown was on her face when she turned around to face you. "Awe, are you not excited to see your favorite bodyguard?"

"No, I am," she sighed and focused on her task.

"I know," Natasha was canceling more and more dates and getting stuck at the office. It was the summer, so there were more things to do. The days were longer, and arrival gangs were out to steal the Black Widow's turf. "But," you leaned against the counter with Natasha's credit card between your fingers. "The boss gave me her card. We could do anything on her dime." Maria stayed quiet. "Or we can return to the house, order takeout, and watch the Breakfast Club." A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Come on, Ria," you whined. "You know I hate seeing you sad." It was true. It tugged at your heartstrings, and you would do anything to make her smile.

"Help me with the dishes, and then we'll go to the bookstore and get Tai food." You smiled.

"Aye, aye, captain," you gave her a salute, and her laughter danced off the kitchen's walls. Her laughter was music to your ears. It was beautiful, so full of light. You would do anything to hear it again and again.

*

In hindsight, you should have knocked, but you were so focused on the phone call that you walked into Natasha's office. It was late, and Monica's frantic phone call woke you up, and you raced to see Natasha. Red room guys were seen gathering weapons at the dock. They were planning an attack. "I just got here," you told Monica. "Don't engage without us," you opened the office door. "I- Jesus Christ," if it weren't for the phone call, you would have said a lot more. "Nothing, I'll call you back." You hung up.

Maybe you should have knocked. Perhaps you would have heard the moans behind the closed door if you weren't on the phone. The moans were not coming from Maria but from Wanda Maximoff. She was topless, lying on top of Natasha's desk with the redhead between her legs. Your jaw clenched as Natasha rushed to pull away from her and throw her a sweatshirt.

"It's not-"

"Save it," you snapped. Oh, you were seething. All you saw was red. She was engaged. Maria was planning a wedding. You wanted to push her up against the wall and tell her off. "We have an actual problem, but please, if you think this little affair is more important, please continue." Natasha ran her fingers through her hair. You ignored Wanda as she stood up from the desk.

"What is it? Is it Maria?" She had to be fucking with you. Even across the room, you could see the hickys covering Natasha's neck. You laughed. You were so close to snapping.

"Oh, so you remember her name? Your fiance," you shook your head. No, she's safe. The Red Room was spotted on the docks gathering weapons. Monica said she tried to call you but couldn't reach you." Now you looked at Wanda. "I guess you had your hands full." You were furious not only with your friend but also with yourself. How did you not notice this? All of the signs were there. Are you coming or not?"

"Sentinel-"

"I don't want to hear it, Romanoff. People's lives are at stake. People you promised to protect. Are you coming?" Natasha nodded, but you refused to look away. She kissed Wanda goodbye and told her that she would call her later. Unbelievable, you thought. Oh, you were going to kill your best friend.

*

The rest of the crew knew there was a problem between you and Natasha. You were still a professional and did your job, but that was it. Gone was the friendly banter, the inside jokes. All of it changed overnight.

Loyalty was important to you. It was important for the crew to maintain respect, but Natasha broke that with you. Before joining the Black Widows, you were fucked over by the last crew you worked with. They ignored your warnings about an upcoming job. They promised that whatever would happen, they would have your back. But the job fell through, and they left you. Natasha found you before the cops showed up. You were forever grateful for the redhead and knew you would stay loyal to her because of what she did for you.

Now she was using that loyalty over your head to keep her secret, to help cover for her. She kept saying that you were loyal to her, not Maria. She saved your life, not Maria. She was your boss, not Maria. It was killing you.

Every date Natasha missed. Every time she stayed late at the office, you saw Maria lose herself more each time. Adding to the pressure of the Red Room, you were at your wits end. So you quit. You told Natasha you were done.

You were in your room packing up your stuff while nursing a gunshot wound to your stomach. A simple meeting turned into a shoot-out as Red Room goons surprised you. Lately, it seemed Natasha kept making bad calls after bad calls. Last week, Carol got hurt. Two days ago, Peggy got jumped. Now, you were on the receiving end of it. These girls were your family, but you weren't sure what to do. The Red Room was gaining momentum. You heard whispers of HYDRA gaining territory. An all-out war was growing.

"I can't believe you are leaving," Maria's voice followed the sound of your front door slamming shut. "And I had to find out through Natasha." She was here quicker than you thought. You wanted to be done packing, but the wound slowed you down.

"Carol will do just fine," you refused to look at her. "She knows all your likes, dislikes, and what you are allergic to.

"I don't want Carol. I want you," you closed your eyes. You knew it was as a bodyguard and nothing more, but a part of you wished it was more. "Why are you leaving me?"

"I'm not leaving you. I-" Would you say to her? That her fiance was cheating on her with someone Maria considered a friend. That a gang war was coming and so many people were going to die in the crossfire.

"I know about Natasha and Wanda," you spun around to face her finally. She was wearing your sweatshirt that you thought you had lost and a pair of jeans. Her hair was damp. She must have rushed over here as soon as her shower was over, but you thought she never looked more beautiful. "You've been shot," she said.

"You knew?" You questioned.

"Don't change the subject," you rolled your eyes because she changed the conversation. She grabbed the first aid kit you had left out and forced you to sit in your recliner. "Of course, I know. I'm not an idiot." You hissed as she pulled the gauze off. "I think it hurts more that you knew and didn't tell me. I thought we were close." She cleaned around the wound. "No exit wound. I have to get the bullet out." You nodded.

"If you knew," you squeezed the chair's armrests as she dug for the bullet. She cooed softly.

"I know, baby," she whispered. "This is the worst part." It had to be the pain. Maybe you were delirious, but you swear you heard her call you baby. You called her pet names because you liked to see her blush.

"If you knew," you continued. She placed the bullet on the side table. "Why stay? Why not call off the engagement?"

"Because I wanted to stay close to the gang," she threaded the suture through the needle. "I wanted to stay close to you." You let her confession rest in the silence as she focused on stitching the gunshot. You felt no pain when the needle pierced your skin. When she was done, she placed a new bandage on it. You grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at you.

"Tell me what you meant by that."

"Nothing," she said. Don't worry about it." Maria tried to pull away from you, but you held her in place—not enough to hurt her, but enough to keep her from running away.

"Tell me, please." You moved your hand to hers and pulled her to her feet. She protested when you told her to sit on your lap, but you held her in place. "Tell me you have the same thoughts I do," you ran your hands up and down her sides and enjoyed the shiver that you felt. "Because I get dirty thoughts about you. They get worse when I'm without you. Are you thinking of them as well?" Instead of answering, she trailed her finger over your lips and down your chest. You weren't sure where this newfound confidence came from. You were leaving, and she was Natasha's; the ring on her finger still confirmed that. "I shouldn't think the things I'm thinking," you admitted. Finally, she locked eyes with yours.

"How long?" She asked. It was a simple question, but still, you hesitated.

"Far too long," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"The more that I push them away. The more that you're stuck in my brain." It was all you needed to hear. You twisted your hand in her brunette hair and kissed her. The kiss was messy and frantic, and Maria's soft sigh only spurred you on more. She matched the intensity of the kiss, but the quiet voice in the back of your head told you this was wrong. She was engaged. Even though her fiance was cheating, her loyalty was to her. You ended the kiss. "Why did you stop?" Maria asked. Her chest was heaving, and a slight blush dusted across her cheeks.

"I don't want to stop," you whispered. Your eyes flickered to the ring on her finger. "You aren't mine." She looked at her ring. Immediately, she took it off and placed it on the table next to the bullet.

"I'm not hers," she said. "Our relationship was always to forge a better relationship between the NYPD and the Black Widows. I've known that from the beginning. If Natasha wants Wanda, then I want you. I always have." There were 101 questions that danced around in your head but died on your tongue due to how she looked at you. Her pupils were blown out, and the color of her eyes was gone. She wanted you. All of your hesitations vanished.

Ignoring the pain from your injury, you picked her up and carried her to your bed. You gently placed her down and quickly covered her body with yours. "Tell me," you whispered, kissing her neck. Her hands grabbed onto your shoulders. "Tell me your mine." You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue.

"I'm yours," she moaned. Her hand went to the back of your head and forced your lips together. "Tell me your mine."

"I'm yours," you said. "Always have been and always will be."

*

"Take me with you," she lay in your bed, wrapped in your blankets as you were in the bathroom. You wondered when this conversation was going to happen. With a sigh, you joined her back in bed and dragged the sheet over you. You laid on your side to face her.

"I don't even know where I'm going."

"I don't care," she said, taking your hand. "I'm safer with you than with anyone else."

"What about Fury?" You questioned. "You wouldn't leave him, and I wouldn't let you." Her silence was enough of an answer for you. You kissed her hand.

"You are going to leave before an all-out turf war breaks out." God, she was more perceptive than you gave her credit for.

"I can't stop it from happening."

"No, you can't," she smiled. "But you can end it quicker and save lives. People listen to you," you played with her now bare ring finger. You dreamed of putting a ring on it one day. "I always believed Natasha wasted your potential. You are a leader, not a guard dog." All of your life, you've been a follower. You followed your father when he left your mom. You followed your old crew into a death trap. You blindly followed every order Natasha gave you.

"Help me then," you told her. She seemed surprised by your request. "You are more than a pretty little to hold on my arm." Maria was barely allowed in meetings when she was; she was ordered to stay quiet and sit by Natasha's side.

"Do you not think I'm pretty?" She teased. Your eyes widened. Laughing, Maria pushed you onto your back and rested her chin on your chest. "I'm teasing. Of course, I'll help. I think we make a good team." If she believed in you, then that's all you needed.

"Let's plan to save the city tomorrow," you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. "I'm tired." She smiled and kissed your lips softly. "Are you staying?"

"I am," she got comfortable with your arms around her. "Sleep, baby. The city can wait one more day."

#maria hill x reader #maria hill x you #natasha romanoff x maria hiill #maria hill x natasha romanoff #blackhill #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Just Looking At You Got Me Thinking Nonsense

A/N: happy Day Four of @nestaarcheronweek! Sometimes, to really be a lover, you have to risk it all in a bidding war, ya know? This was a fun little fic to write, and I want to give a big ole shout-out to the Anon who sent me this prompt! I hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

Cassian digs his phone out of his back pocket, opening back up the group chat and the most recent messages still waiting there. With a nod, he pockets the phone again, rolling out his shoulders. There’s a glass case full of pictures and some sort of awards on the wall opposite him, and Cassian uses it as a makeshift mirror. He’s always had a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s nervous, and now his curls are a tangled mess as a result.

A door opening down the hall has Cassian almost jumping out of his skin. He turns just in time to see the exact woman he’s here for walking down the hall, her arm looped with a red head that Cassian is pretty sure was in his trig class last year.

“Trust me, it will be over before you know it,” the red head says as they walk.

“Until I have to sit through some stupid dinner after… You’re lucky that I love you.”

“I know, and I am lucky you’re doing this with me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go up there alone.”

“Hey, Nes,” Cassian calls in greeting when they’re close enough, raising his hand in a wave.

Whether she doesn’t hear him or is just ignoring him, Cassian isn’t sure. But both women don’t acknowledge him, walking through another door further down the hall. One that, he presumes, leads into the large hall.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Cassian mumbles to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Idiot.”

“Idiot is certainly one word I’d use to describe you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle echoes Rhys’s remark, and Cassian turns to glare at both his brothers. He knocks his shoulders against both of them, leading the way back toward the front of the building and the main doors into the hall. There’s more laughter, but at least his brothers fall into step behind him. He doesn’t have time for their teasing. Not tonight at least. This is his one chance, and he’ll be damned if he fucks it up, if he loses it. He needs to focus.

Cassian knew that Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen the first time he saw her walk into his gen-ed English lecture earlier this semester. Her blue gray eyes had been piercing beneath the lights of the lecture hall, and Cassian wanted to dive into them and drown in them right in that moment. Even more so when he watched her roll those eyes at something said at the front of the lecture hall.

Gods, he wanted to make those eyes roll.

He was sure that the Mother must be smiling down on him when Nesta had ended up in his seminar after the lecture too. It was clear that she was smart. That she had a passion for books. That she didn’t take any bullshit. He could sit and watch and listen to her in that seminar for the rest of his life and be happy. And when she absolutely eviscerated Tamlin for his “analysis” of Lolita, Cassian had been ready to drop to his knees right then and there.

It made him try harder. He made sure he actually paid attention in the lecture, made sure he did the readings, made sure he came to each and every seminar with his analysis prepared in hopes of impressing her. He wasn't sure it was working or not, but sometimes, he swore he saw her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, of a smirk, when he spoke. He swore that sometimes he could feel her gaze on him when he wasn't looking.

And then, one day, he’d walked into the seminar room to find the seat next to Nesta open. He’d practically stumbled over his own feet in his rush to slide into that open seat, earning an amused head shake from Kallias. Using the few minutes before the seminar started, Cassian had called her Nes and gotten a withering glare in response. He was sure the look was meant to cut him down where he sat, but it only stoked the embers in his chest into a full wildfire, only made him grin wider.

It became a game after that. Every seminar, he’d take the seat beside Nesta, and every seminar, he’d spark a back and forth between them. He cataloged every look, every response he was able to draw out of Nesta. Every eye roll. Every derisive snort. Every sarcastic quip. He got drunk off it all and kept coming back for more and more. And when he made Nesta blush, the pretty pink spreading across her cheeks, he knew that was it for him.

He spent the whole rest of the week after that trying to figure out the best way to ask Nesta out, sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being asked in front of their whole seminar group. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her to speak to him after the seminar, prayed to the Mother to take pity on him, and blessedly, take pity on him she did. It’s what led Cassian to finding out that Nesta was pledged to Mor’s sorority.

How he found out that she would be here tonight.

One of the sorority members greets Cassian and his brothers when they step through the doors to the hall, her name tag reading Deidre. She holds out three paddles, but Rhys and Azriel both wave her off, only Cassian taking one. Lucky number nineteen, just like his jersey. They settle into seats at an empty table, and then it’s just a waiting game.

It doesn’t take long before Mor is stepping out onto the stage, giving her welcoming speech as president, but any words she says fade away as soon as the women participating tonight walk onto the stage. As soon as Cassian catches sight of Nesta. Her dress is a silky, silvery blue that, along with the stage lights, brings out the blue of her eyes, and the hem is short enough to show off the stretch of her legs. She has that look on her face that’s Cassian’s favorite, and just the sight of her has his mouth going dry. She’s gorgeous.

“And next up we have Nesta Archeron.” Cassian’s attention snaps back to Mor. “She’s pre-law and minoring in English. She loves romance novels, so you better be ready to bring out all the stops if you’re the lucky one who gets to take her on a date. Now, we’ll start the bidding at–”

“One hundred dollars,” Cassian calls out before Mor can finish, jumping up to his feet and holding up his paddle.

“Mother save us,” Rhys mutters under his breath.

“Wow. That’s…” Mor clears her throat. “That’s quite generous. I guess we’ll be starting the bidding at one hundred.”

“One fifty.”

Anger flares low in Cassian’s gut at the second bid, and it burns even brighter when he turns his head and finds the owner of the voice. Eris Vanserra. Cassian has hated the man ever since he had the misfortune of sharing a class with him freshman year. Ever since he watched him stroll into a college class wearing designer clothes and look down on everyone. He’s pompous, pretentious, and has a face practically asking for Cassian to punch.

And punching Eris’s snooty face is definitely something Cassian’s fist itches to do right now.

“Two hundred,” Cassian declares, turning back toward the stage.

“Two fifty,” Eris echoes.

“Two seventy five.”

“Three hundred.”

“Holy shit,” Mor mutters before seemingly remembering that she has a microphone in her hands. “I mean wow. That’s officially our highest bid. Ever. Do we have a response?”

“Five. Hundred.”

Gasps and murmurs of surprise sweep through the room at Cassian’s announcement. He glances toward where Nesta still stands on stage, her eyes wide and pink settled high on her cheeks. But those wide eyes are pinned on him, not Eris, not Mor, and her attention has his heart stuttering between his ribs, has it tugging toward the stage as though she holds the thread so firmly wrapped around it.

He dares to toss Nesta a wink before turning to smirk at Eris, but Vanserra is still lounging casually in his seat with a sort of cool arrogance that ice starts to prickle beneath Cassian’s skin.

“Five fifty,” Eris declares, eyes cutting toward Cassian with a smirk of his own.

“Fucking prick,” Cassian mutters under his breath before he leans down to speak to Rhys. “Okay, I’m going to need to borrow more than what we originally agreed to.”

Rhys sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Seriously, Cass? This is getting a little absurd for a single date.”

“She’s worth it.”

“Is she? You know, I’ve heard stories, and–”

“Fuck you,” Cassian growls, turning back toward the stage before he runs out of time. “Five seventy five!”

“He’s clearly dedicated. You’ve got to give him that,” Azriel mutters with a low chuckle.

“You know Vanserra’s not going to stop, right?” Rhys adds, his tone almost bored.

As if in answer, Eris’s voice rings out again. “Six hundred.”

“Seven hundred,” Cassian calls out quickly before dropping his voice again. “If you’re so worried about your rich boy checkbook, then do something about it.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Seven fifty,” Eris’s voice drowns out Rhys’s question.

“Alright,” Azriel sighs, pushing up to his feet. “This is just sad to watch now.”

Cassian sighs as his brother walks away, knocking his fist against the table in frustration. “Eight fifty!”

He waits for Eris’s answering bid, but there’s only silence ringing out in the hall. Cassian’s brow pinches in confusion, and he snaps his attention back toward Eris’s table. The man in question is on his feet, standing toe to toe with Azriel. There’s a suspicious looking stain across Eris’s shirt, and his lips are pulled back in a sneer.

Whatever lashing Eris is giving for his now ruined designer shirt, Azriel takes it unfazed. He merely reaches for a napkin, the movement nothing short of sensual as he wipes it against Eris’s shirt, against his chest and down his stomach. Even from across the room Cassian can see the way Eris’s face has turned a color to match his face.

With Eris thoroughly distracted, Cassian looks back toward the stage, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Mor.

“Oh! Right,” Mor speaks into the microphone. “We have eight fifty. Do we have higher than eight fifty?” Cassian motions with his hand to hurry up. “Eight fifty going once. Going twice. Sold for eight fifty.”

Cassian falls back into his seat with a relieved sigh, unable to bite back the wide grin that pulls across his face. He did it, he was the highest bid. He gets to see Nesta outside of their lecture, outside of their seminar. He gets to spend time with her one on one and to find out what really makes her tick.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

He’s practically bouncing on his feet waiting for the rest of the women to have their bidding, for the evening to come to a close. He all but jumps back up to his feet, plucking the check from between Rhys’s fingers. The look on Mor’s face is all too knowing when he hands over the money, but even that doesn’t deter him.

He gets to take Nesta Archeron on a date.

“Eight hundred fifty dollars, huh?”

Cassian spins around to come face to face with the exact woman in question, her arms crossed and her expression unimpressed. But Cassian has learned a lot sitting next to Nesta this semester, and he recognizes the light sparking in her blue eyes, the slight pinch at the corner of her lips. Try as she might, she can’t hide her amusement from him.

“What can I say, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, grin still wide. “I’m quite dedicated to getting what I want.”

“Oh? Is that why you pulled that stunt with Eris?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was merely Azriel flirting.”

Nesta laughs, and it’s already Cassian’s favorite sound, a sound he wants to draw out of her again and again. “He flirts by spilling drinks on people?”

“Everyone has their own version of flirting. Look at us, with our back and forth.”

That comment does earn him an eye roll, Cassian’s blood singing and his heart soaring at the reaction. He dares to step even closer to Nesta, until he has to tip his chin down to keep smirking at her. Dares to reach up between them for a stray strand of Nesta’s hair and tug on it teasingly. Dares to tease the backs of his fingers along her now pinkening cheeks.

“You might actually be crazy, you know.”

“Only because you make me that way, Nes.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#nestaweek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

[ktaerssoi]

Mmmm what about Kate with a partner who’s love language is gift giving, specifically handmade gifts.

Like just imagine Kate being gifted a bouquet of crochet flowers by her partner, I can’t get that image out of my head.

Also do you take anons? can I be 🐹 anon?

handcrafted

kate martin x fem!reader

summary: it was your's and kate's one year anniversary together, and to make it special you made your gift by hand.

(826)

you and kate have had a connection from the moment you met, you guys had ignored it until you finally confessed to her in the pouring rain, a story for another day, but a connection nonetheless.

you guys had made a deal on your six month anniversary that you wouldn't go all out for your one year, so you hadn't. recently, you had been trying to learn how to crochet, seeing some cute crafts that you wanted to make.

one of these crafts, a bouquet of crochet flowers, caught your eye one day while scrolling on Instagram. you looked up a tutorial and quickly got to practicing, thinking that they would make a nice, thoughtful gift for kate.

you had finally gotten the pattern down a few days before you were going to go out. you had made almost a dozen of them, untying and retying them all together until they were to your standards. you felt sort of weird making something so simple for such a big day in your relationship, but at the same time, it felt fitting for you and kate.

-

the day had come, you were woken up by kate bringing you breakfast, more like lunch, in bed.

the two of you had the whole day planned out, you were going to chill at home for a little, maybe hit up the mall, and then go out to dinner at a restaurant you guys had been frequenting more often. you were excited, to say the least, you had gotten ready two hours before you had to leave, wanting to look your best.

you were nervous too, you were starting to get self-conscious about your gift, thinking it was a little babyish. calm down, it'll be fine, it's just kate. you repeated those words in your head until you started to believe them.

you guys were having a great night, the food was great and you were laughing and talking the whole time. you guys had decided to do presents once you got home, feeling like it might be weird to do such a personal thing in a public setting.

you guys were wrapping up at the restaurant, the waiters and waitresses bidding you goodbye, knowing they would see the two of you again soon.

"c'mon y/n, I want to go home! I'm so excited to give you your gift, it's so cool" you smiled as you looked at kate, she was practically jumping off the walls to leave.

"my company isn't enough to keep you here?" you laughed as you walked out the door, watching her face contort to make an argument against your claim. you didn't hear the end of it till you got to the car two minutes later.

your leg was bouncing nervously on the way home, kate had noticed and grabbed your hand halfway there. it calmed you down, even if you didn't want to admit you were stressed in the first place.

you weren't totally sure why you were nervous, maybe it was the fact that you thought kate wouldn't like them, or that you felt like they wouldn't compare to whatever kate gets you.

-

finally, after both of you had changed and taken off your makeup, you were seated on the couch. both of you holding the other's respective gifts. kate had a tiny bag that seemed to hold something fancy. you were scared, to say the least.

you switched bags and to say you were shocked is an understatement. kate had given you a bracelet with what seemed to be hand-polished gems, she had held off on opening hers just to see your reaction.

you jumped into her arms, kissing her face to show your gratitude. "kate, baby, this is so cute, did you make this yourself? i love it so much oh my gosh." you had asked her to help you put it on, not wanting to ever take it off again.

you were sitting on her lap messing with the chain when you realized she hadn't opened your gift yet. "kate!" you gasped, a smile on your face as you reached for the bag, handing it to her. "open it! please? i know its not much but i learned how to make each one individually and it took me actual weeks-" you were cut off by kate kissing your lips, it was a slow kiss, one that expressed just how thankful she was for the present.

"they're amazing babe, im going to go get a vase to put them in." you got up, letting her walk into the kitchen to get a vase. you were still a little shell-shocked about that kiss.

-

the vase of handmade flowers sat on your coffee table for almost two years, only moving when you did. every year since your first anniversary you've added a new flower. every day, it's like walking into a reminder of just how much you two had been through together.

notes: erm chat?? new color?? but also yes, i do take anons! hi 🐹!! anyway chat.. i miss my gf.. YEAH GIRLFRIEND. I TOLD YOU SHE WAS INTO ME. (we've been on one date.) sos chat - kate

kate's gift to you

your gift to kate

#wcbb #caitlin clark #paige bueckers #caitlin clark x reader #kate martin #paige bueckers fic #wlw #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb

[moonlit-heartbreak]

Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #iron flame x reader #xaden riorson #liam mairi #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #xaden riorson x reader #liam mairi x reader #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader

[newtonsheffield]

They’d shared a two minute conversation during which she’d managed to call him stupid a number of different times in an exciting variety of ways. And still, he’d found himself sat behind the typewriter (...) as he wrote about anything. But kindly it wasn’t about anything. Mostly it was about her, in some way or another. Or rather, the feeling of her.

THIS. This is so in line with the canon. I immediately thought of the scene during the conservatory ball. Kate gives her monologue, tearing Anthony to pieces and he is completely smitten with her from the get-go.

I bet he still has the initial pages written way back then. Maybe they even made it to Snow Filled Paper? But the originals are surely hidden in his desk: yellowed, crumpled and tattered, since Anthony has been rereading them all over again.

A version of some of them are in Snow Filled Paper but most of them are tucked away in Anthony’s desk drawer, folded and unfolded and tearing at the edges.

Anthony takes them out and reads them from time to time and Kate has no idea they even exist until they’re nearly two months into their relationship and she’s looking for something else in his desk. She finds them in an old tin from the Jane Austen Museum and it makes her chuckle as she opens it. It’s such an Anthony thing to own, and she can’t resist knowing what’s inside.

There’s a lot of things in there from there uni days actually, there’s a coaster with the mark of a beer bottle from the pub they used to go to with their friends and there’s a daisy chain that’s been pressed into a notebook that has Anthony’s thoughts in. She chuckled as she read

Grow moustache? Might look cultured and distinguished? Set me apart from D.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at the D printed there, trying to remember who that might have been. She moved on, unfolding one of the sheets of paper at the back and her heart stuttered in her chest.

It was about her, she was sure it was. She remembered the day he’d written about, when they’d met in the library to work on their assignment and her breath caught at the way he described it.

“Are you snooping?”

She dropped the paper in surprise looking up to see Anthony leaking against the doorway, sipping a cup of tea.

“Maybe a little?”

She held up the pages, “Did you really feel this way about me?”

Anthony groaned, leaning against the edge of the desk, “please don’t read that. I was still finding my style.”

“I like it.” She said gently, pressing her lips to his. “It’s very sweet.”

“I… Please don’t read too far. I think in that one I used the phrase Aphrodite would be a poor muse compared with her.”

Kate bit back a laugh, “I’m obsessed with this.”

“Is there anything I can do to convince you not to read it?” Anthony wiggled his eyebrows, “I’d be willing to show you just how close you are to Aphrodite.”

Kate hummed, tapping her finisher on her chin. “Tell me who D is? I don’t remember you being friends with a D in uni. But you fucking hate him.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows, “You don’t know a D from first year?”

It dawned on her and her mouth fell open with a gasp, “Oh you wanted to grow a moustache to set you apart from Dan?!”

He flushed, “He had a motorbike and I was jealous! He was dating my dream girl.”

“That’s very sweet.”

Anthony hummed, leaning into her, “Would the moustache have worked?”

Kate grimaced, “It would have set this timeline back at least 5 years. Now I might be into it.”

“Interesting.”

#you never called it what it was #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[dominimoonbeam]

DOMINI!! HOW ARE YOU!!

may i ask for

oh, don't be cute.

wait, did you just say that i'm cute?

putting on lip gloss/balm before the kiss, having fun sharing different flavors

with david and darlin pleaseee?? thank youuu ♥️♥️♥️♥️

ZOZO!!!! Okay, this was great and soo much fun! Thank you!! I hope you like how it turned out. <3 <3 <3 You're amazing, thank you so much for the ask!!

David/Darlin

tags: first kiss, prompt fic, a little tipsy, idiots in love

Coconut.

The warehouse was trashed from the pack party but David couldn’t quite muster the energy to care. It was almost four in the morning. He should start sending them home… really he should have done that an hour ago. Several of the pack were already passed out on the couches or the floor. He knew they kept some bedding at the warehouse but he hadn’t realized it was quite this much. They’d basically built a nest.

Fuck it. They could sleep here. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about them all getting home safely. He closed his eyes, arms folded across his chest and body settling into the couch. He could make breakfast in the morning. That would be nice.

The couch bounced when someone plopped down next to him.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. He could feel their aura against his. Loyal, sharp, quick to anger, quick to run, brave, but so damn scared. His nose wrinkled, eyes still closed. “Why do you smell like coconut?”

He felt them shrug, their arm against his.

David opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Darlin. Their eyes were half-lidded. They’d been riding their buzz for the last hour or two. His gaze flicked to their mouth and the gloss on their lips.

“This was all Milo had,” they explained with another shrug.

David nodded, watching their lips move as they spoke. He was riding a buzz too. Their mouth was lush. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? He’d been crushing on this idiot for years but never really noticed those lips... They’d been flirting for months now. Asher didn’t think Darlin really thought they were flirting though. He was probably right.

David uncurled his arms and held out a hand, palm up, doing gimmie fingers.

Darlin grinned. “You want some?”

“Hn.” He wanted it.

Something mischievous lit their eyes and they tipped their chin up, offering their lips, eyes always on him, daring him to get some.

David smiled despite all efforts not to. “Oh, don’t be cute.” Don’t tempt me, he thought.

Darlin laughed and looked away, sinking back against the cushions next to him, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. “Wait. Did you just say that I’m cute?” They turned their head to look at him again, surprise hitting late.

David was looking back, their faces close. He saw the moment Darlin realized it and heard their pulse jump. Their gaze flicked down to his mouth. They didn’t pull away, but forced a sideways smile that made him think they were about to say something self-deprecating to cut the tension…

“No one would call me cute, Davey.”

Yep. He didn’t look away. “I did. Want me to call you more names?” he asked, deadpan and patient.

Their eyes widened a fraction and he could practically hear the battle in their mind, wanting to egg him on, wanting to know what he would say, but not wanting to risk it either. They nodded once. The whole warehouse was a hive of activity but it all faded.

“You bite hard, you’re brave, and your mouth is really pretty.”

Darlin’s eyes were as wide as he’d ever seen them and their smile was an explosion. “Fuck you, you did not just say my mouth was pretty!”

David ignored all of his own nerves and the heat climbing his face. He wasn’t going to look away from this. “I said really pretty.”

“You’re messing with me, Shaw.”

He finally smiled, because how could he not when they served it up like that? “I’ll mess with you if you want, any time… if you’re willing to share your chapstick.”

Darlin stared, practically gawked, seeming to realize again just how close they were sitting. “You’re drunk,” they said in way of explanation.

David just watched them, waiting. He was tipsy, sure, but he wasn’t drunk and they knew it. Their eyes flicked to his lips again. He wanted so much to close that distance but he couldn’t. He needed them to make that move.

His heart beat faster when the leaned in, his hands curling into fists against his own arms to keep from grabbing at them right away. They kissed him so softly, lips sticky with that coconut chapstick. For a split second after, he felt the flutter of uncertainty in them, not regret for kissing but fear that it was a joke at their expense and they’d fallen for it—that he didn’t feel the same—that he was just messing with them. It all vibrated there across those indescribable threads that connected them.

David reached across and curled a hand behind their neck, pulling them in again and this time kissing them deep enough to taste the pina colada on their tongue. The kiss was long and slow and when it broke he smiled. “So… You like coconut, huh?”

Darlin grinned back. “Don’t you?”

He nodded. He did now.

#david/darlin #redactedverse #first kiss prompts #<3 #dominimoonbeam #redacted asmr #fanfic

[antiquitea]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john egan x gale cleven.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the last place that john egan wants to be the summer before he graduates high school is the egan family cottage, a place where time and everyone else seems to have forgotten. having been intent on finding a summer job, spending time with his friends, going to parties, and making out with pretty girls, john is irked that the egan family matriarch has other ideas and wants the family to spend "one last" summer together.

john's sour mood shifts just a little when he meets local, but also not-so-local, gale cleven, a boy his age who works at the small town's one pizza joint. through teenage angst and a desire to break free of the awkward position of not being children anymore but not yet men, the two form a bond that makes their summer a little more bearable. a bond that comes to shock the both of them.

but what happens when more than the summer comes to an end?

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: teen, though later chapters might have a slightly higher rating.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: YEAH FIRST MASTERS OF THE AIR FIC. thank you to everyone who reblogged the mood board and expressed interest in the story. special thanks to @wildbornsiren for being my ride or die and @swifty-fox for letting me share snippets and bouncing ideas off of you.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! 💚

» mood board. » read on ao3.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈.

Summer 1986 Somewhere in Wisconsin

“Johnny!”

Evidently, John Egan had ignored the shouts from his mother to come inside for the last time. Her voice turned into something shrill that he could hear even down by the lake, where he could normally escape all manner of ruckus that came from the cottage. It wasn’t that noisy, he supposed. But it was difficult to get a moment of peace and quiet when his whole family - his ma and dad, his sister, and himself - were all crammed into the small two bedroom space.

When they were kids, John and his sister, Billie, would bunk together in one room, at first sharing the one bed, John then eventually sleeping on the floor when he “got too long,” as his dad put it. But when one is suddenly seventeen, and the other is fourteen, bunking together isn’t on the table anymore, no matter what Ma said. John would just as soon take the couch, which he was too long to fit on comfortably anymore, in the living room, or grab a tent and camp out under the stars if the weather was nice enough.

“Johnny Egan!”

The last name had been included, it was getting serious.

John pushed himself up with a soft grunt, hands instinctively wiping grass and dirt from the ass of his shorts. He reached over to pick up the battered copy of ‘Salem’s Lot and the empty bottle of Coke that he’d brought down to the edge of the lake with him, cramming the book in his back pocket, and holding the empty bottle between his long fingers.

He didn’t know what all the fuss was about, having dinner at the same time every night. It was summer, no one else seemed to be on a set schedule. Kids, teens, and adults ran wild in cottage country. At least that had been the way. Once upon a time, he and Billie had been allowed to miss dinners and stay out past their bedtimes. Yet somehow, as they got older, Ma and Dad were trying to tighten the reins. Ma had tearfully mentioned that it might be the last time they all got down to the lake together for the summer, as if one of them were fuckin’ dying or something.

John tramped through the brush and tall grass to get to the path that would lead him back to the small cluster of cottages on the the top of the hill. There had been four that had always been there, as long as he could remember, situated around the lake. They went back generations, passed down through handshakes and wills, little more than a handful of rooms for families to sleep, eat, and unwind after a day in the sun.

But over the past few years things further up the road were beginning to be developed, real proper like, and it was only a matter of time before it reached the older cottages down by the lake. John had ridden his bike past them shortly after they’d arrived a week ago; they looked almost as nice as the house that they lived in ten months out of the year back in Manitowoc. John had heard the stories about how the Egan Family Cottage had come to be, put together by his grandfather and a few friends over the course of the summer in 1945, a product of coming home from the war, too much time on their hands, and a lot of packs of cigarettes and beer.

“Jo -”

“I’m comin’ Ma!”

When he was a kid it seemed like a much greater distance between the cottage and the lake, and now he realized that they were within spitting distance of one another. He’d taken up less space then. 

John crested over the small hill at the top of the path, the cottages in full or partial view now. Theirs was on the far right, and despite its location amongst the small cluster, had been the center of his universe, and the universe of all the other kids, summer friends, that spent summers there, for as long as he could remember. But the Miller kids were both off to college the last couple of years, and Amos Cook had passed away early that spring, and his widow couldn’t bear to come down and bring their grandkids with her.

Suddenly, at seventeen years of age, John felt too young and too old all at once.

—

“Lucia’s dad said he would drive us to the mall the next town over tonight. If that’s okay? Ma? It closes at eight.”

John pushed the remnants of dinner around his plate with the prongs of his fork, desperately wanting to be set free from the small dinner table shoved into a corner of an equally small kitchen, to go and find somewhere to finish his book. He only had a couple of chapters left before he was finished, and he really wanted an excuse to take his bike (or the truck if Dad was in a good mood) into town the next day, go to the library, maybe spend some time at the pizza place that had Galaga and Time Pilot arcade cabinets, see a pretty girl. Any girl, really. He was beginning to think his summer would’ve been better spent in Manitowoc. At least then maybe he stood a chance of feeling up something pretty in the back seat at the drive-in.

“Who’s Lucia?” John Egan the Elder asked, reaching over and opening the fridge door. The perks of the small kitchen and its small dinner table meant that the fridge was often within reach. Egan Senior pulled out a beer and held it up, looking at John with raised eyebrows. John nodded, and his dad pulled another one out. He popped the caps off of both and then handed one to his son.

“A new friend,” Billie replied after a sip of water. “Her parents have one of the cottages up the road. I met her today. She’s really nice. Ma, you’d like her.”

“Oh, Billie. Why would you want to go to the mall on a night like this?” Ma Egan asked, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

Dinner had been steaks and vegetables that Dad had cooked on the barbeque. It dawned on John that in the summer that his dad did most of the cooking on the grill, which meant Ma got a break from cooking. Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to come down to the cottage every year. 

“Oh let her go, Ma,” John Sr. said, then taking a sip from his bottle of beer. “She’s met a new friend and wants to go to the mall. Ain’t no danger in it. So long as she doesn’t spend her entire allowance.”

John swore his Ma still believed that they were children who needed coddling and protection from the world. He had his own feelings about his sister getting older - for one thing, she was infinitely more annoying than he had ever remembered her being - but Billie didn’t need Ma looming over her shoulder at all times.

“Well, who will John spend time with if she’s gone?” Ma asked John Sr., as if neither Billie or John will be present.

“He’s seventeen, he doesn’t want to spend summer nights with his kid sister.” Again, they may as well have not been there. “Am I right, John?”

John inhaled, waiting for a moment of quiet in which he could reply in, before Ma was filling the void. “Oh, all right. Is Lucia’s dad going to pick you up from the mall?”

Billie brightened. “Yes. Eight o’clock on the dot, he said.”

“Then I suppose it’s all right. But I want you home no later than eight thirty.”

“May I be excused?” John asked, looking between his parents.

“Of course,” Ma replied, before immediately turning back to Billie to go over the five new rules she’d just concocted for going to the mall with Lucia.

John cleared his plate, grabbed his beer, his book from off the table by the back door, and made his way back down to his spot at the lake. He still had a couple of hours of daylight left, and even after he finished his book (he was a fast reader) there would be plenty of time for him to just lay by the lake, sipping the remnants of his beer, and enjoying the sounds of the crickets and the lake.

—

Back in Manitowoc, the library had a couple of girls John’s age who worked there part time. While he did enjoy going there to check out something new, he also enjoyed leaning over the counter, smiling with all of his teeth, and asking what their favourite books were. He also enjoyed watching them duck their heads and giggle, and on occasion following them to the very back stacks where their favourite books were not at all located and putting his hands under their skirts while they tried to stifle their moans against his shoulder.

In the town library down at the cottage it was small enough to be staffed by one woman, and that woman was old enough to be his grandmother. John wasn’t opposed necessarily … she just wasn’t his type.

His solitary errand completed for the day (he picked a couple more Stephen King books), John glanced at his watch. It was only ten in the morning.

Letting out a huff, he leaned against the brick exterior of the library and looked up and down the one street the town possessed. So many shops weren’t even opened yet, their proprietors moving as lazily as the out of towners who took over in the summer. John didn’t know much about business or economics (despite Dad’s best efforts), but thought that opening earlier would be more profitable.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. He was just bored out of his skull.

They had six more weeks there.

Books placed in the milk crate at the back, John mounted his bike and began lazily cycling down the street back toward the direction of the cottage, passing by the pizza place. It was open, and John spotted a couple of kids Billie’s age playing Galaga. It felt far too early for a slice, but John wasn’t quite ready to go back to the cottage and get through another book in a day.

Parking his bike outside, John then opened the door to Rush Hour Pizza. What passed for rush hour in this place he would very much like to see. The boys were playing Galaga, one shouting very unhelpful directions at the other, but aside from that the shop was empty, save for the thin blond working behind the counter, her back turned to the entrance. He leaned over the counter, one hand pressed against the linoleum and set his voice to purr.

“Hey pretty thing.”

The blond turned around, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, blue eyes wide.

Fuck.

“Um.”

“Yeah,” the boy around John’s age supplied, tucking a piece of his long blond hair behind his ear. “My dad’s been saying I should get a haircut.”

He was slender, but not so slender that John should’ve been mistaking him for a girl. John was scarlett with shame, but tried not to let it show, instead just clearing his throat and looking down at the counter for a moment to get his bearings.

“What can I get for ya?” the boy asked.

“Uh,” John replied, finally glancing up. Okay, so he may have been a boy but he was still extremely pretty in a masculine sense. Was that a thing that men were? John had never thought a boy was pretty before. He’d looked at men with curiosity, but never -

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” John replied. “Can I, uh, get a slice?”

“This early?”

John looked at the boy across the counter incredulously. “It’s … a pizza place. You sell pizza. You’re open.”

“Yeah, but … it’s ten in the morning.”

“Then what …” John trailed off, gesturing to the boys playing Galaga.

The blond boy leaned over the counter, looking at the two younger boys shoving quarters into the arcade cabinet, and then looking back at John. “They’re playing Galaga.”

“I see that they’re playing Galaga. But isn’t this the sort of place where you, I dunno, have to buy something in order to use … the facilities?”

The boy chuckled and John kind of hated him. He stole a glance at the nametag pinned to the boy’s apron - GALE - and then lifted his gaze to his face once more.

“When my dad is here, probably. But I dunno, it’s summer and this place is boring. I don’t care. If they wanna feed quarters into the machines they can go for it. We get their money regardless. At least, that’s what my dad would say. They bought some Cokes about an hour ago,” Gale said. “Pizza’s not even ready yet.”

John blinked. “Then why are you open?”

“Galaga,” Gale replied, pointing at the boys and the arcade cabinet once more. “I was here making the pizzas anyway.”

“So when you asked what you could get me, it was limited to beverages,” John said, letting out a sigh.

“There’s a menu,” Gale said, pointing to the large board above his head. “I can make you a sandwich. Or a sub.”

For the first time, John picks up on Gale’s accent, and cocks his head. “Not from around here, are you?”

“No sir,” Gale replied, leaning against the counter. “Born in South Dakota, grew up in Wyoming.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” John asked. Gale opened his mouth to speak and John interrupted him. “If you say ‘Galaga’ one more time -”

Gale laughed, something big and bright, showing all of his perfect fuckin’ teeth. It stretched up to the corners of his eyes and made his nose scrunch up, and John’s face felt strangely warm again. “Change of scenery. Dad got tired of Wyoming.” He tilted his head at John. “You’re not from here either.”

“Well, I’m from Manitowoc. My family summers here.”

“Summers. Fancy,” Gale said a little teasingly, straightening back up. It was far from fancy, but John didn’t correct him. “Can I make you a sandwich or what?”

John reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet, rifling through his cash. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Cold cut sub sounds great. Not gonna get on my ass about it being too early for lunch?”

“I would never,” Gale replied with a slow smile.

—

“You were gone long,” Ma said the moment that John walked in through the back door of the cottage, a stack of books under his arm.

John rolled his eyes and placed the books down on one of the side tables next to the couch, which had been serving at his nightstand. “Ma, please.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’ is all,” Ma Egan said defensively, looking up from washing dishes in the kitchen. “Said you were going to the library. Figured you’d be there and back in half an hour or so.”

With an exasperated sigh, John flopped down onto the couch. He wasn’t certain if he could bear even just another day of his mother being overbearing. “Ma, we’re on vacation. I’m almost an adult -” Ma snorted, and John ignored her. “- can you stop hasslin’ me about being a bit longer in town? It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“Now John Egan, I’ve had just about enough of your complaining,” Ma said with a sigh, tossing her washcloth into the sink.

John sat up a little straighter, hands stretched out in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion. “I haven’t complained once since we got here.”

“Oh yes you have,” Ma Egan said. “Maybe not in so many words, but you’ve been throwing yourself around like a rag doll since you set foot inside this place. Mopin’ about, spendin’ all of your time down at the lake.”

“There’s nothing for me to do here,” John said, and he sounded much whinier than he had meant to. Definitely not an adult.

“Like hell there ain’t,” Ma Egan said, hands on her hips. “Your sister has been makin’ friends up the road, and don’t tell her I ever said it, but you’re far more personable than she is.”

“Ma,” John began, his voice firm and level. “Billie is a kid. There are other kids around. I, your son who is a completely different person, am not a kid. There’s no one my age around here. They’re probably all working jobs. Which is what I wanted to do this summer back home, but you and dad insisted that we all come here. So forgive me for feeling a little bit put out that I’m spending my summer vacation with nothing to do, when I wanted to get a job, make some money for school, and spend time with my friends.”

“And get up to no good,” Ma Egan said quickly.

“Ma -”

“Those boys you pal around with aren’t exactly model citizens.”

“Neither am I,” John muttered, really wishing he had thought to buy a pack of cigarettes while he was in town. He hadn’t thought he would need to take the edge off there, but it was becoming apparent that he would.

“Not if you keep aligning yourself with that lot,” Ma Egan said, stepping into the small living room, cluttered with John’s belongings. “Look, the reason why your father and I insisted that we all come here this summer is that it’ll probably be the last time we all get the chance to.”

“Ain’t no one dyin’, Ma!”

Sighing, Ma sat down next to John on the couch. “John, it ain’t about that. You and your sister are getting older, you’re not going to want to come down here anymore with the whole family. Hell, you already didn’t want to. But next summer you’ll be off to college, or getting a job somewhere, and you won’t be able to make it down. And your father and I aren’t gettin’ any younger.” She paused and reached over, taking one of John’s hands. “Our lives are all going to change one way or another in the coming years, and ain’t nothin’ guaranteed. But we could have this one last time. Some time together. I’m sorry that we dragged you here. But I ain’t sorry that you’re here. You understand me?”

John glanced over at his mother, letting out a small sigh of his own. He loved his family, he did. But he was filled with that sort of unbridled rage that all teenagers feel when they’re on the cusp of adulthood. Even if he couldn’t identify it, quantify it, it was there. He did an excellent job of keeping it to himself for the most part, unless his mother drew it out of him, like she was doing then and there.

He didn’t quite understand her insistence that they all be together at the cottage when they could’ve been together back home. But, agreeing with her in the past had sometimes been a better option than arguing with her, and John couldn’t bear to break her heart with his own teenage angst anymore.

“Yeah, Ma. I understand.”

—

That afternoon, John had found his father, who was working on a truck for one of the newer neighbours up the road. Turns out it had been Billie’s new friend’s father. Billie and Lucia were inside, enjoying some air conditioning and listening to New Kids on the Block, while their two dads stood over the open front hood of the blue Dodge Ram, each holding a beer in their hand. John the Younger managed to lend a hand, which seemed to please his father, who really wanted his son to one day take up the mantle of the family business back home.

John was still undecided if he wanted to be a mechanic or not. In fact, he was still undecided on what he wanted to be at all.

As a thank you, Lucia’s dad suggested they get pizza. John was about to take his leave when Lucia insisted that he stay. John didn’t miss the way that Lucia looked at him, and couldn’t find it in himself to break the girl’s heart, so he agreed. Billie looked equal parts shocked and disgusted, and he later heard her say, “My brother? Seriously? Ew.”

“He’s got a moustache, Billie.”

“Not a good one.”

John was glad he was out of sight, if not out of earshot, rubbing at the hair above his lip absentmindedly. The moustache was a work in progress. He thought it looked just fine. And Deborah Jensen back home in Manitowoc had seemed to be quite fond of it as well.

Lucia’s dad gave him the keys to the newly fixed truck to go pick up the pizzas, and John Sr. reminded him to be on his best behaviour with a truck that wasn’t theirs. John fought the urge to roll his eyes, wanting to be a good guest, and after taking his time to ensure that the mirrors were properly adjusted, hands at ten and two (he knew his dad was watching), John drove ten under the speed limit until he was out of sight.

—

John pulled up to Rush Hour Pizza with a groan, not really in the mood for Gale. He didn’t know why, they’d gotten on well enough that morning. Gale was clearly bored to tears waiting for the pizzas to come out of the oven, so he’d chatted with John from across the restaurant while he ate his sub (it had been really fuckin’ good).

When the bell above the door chimed, Gale popped up seemingly out of nowhere, looking a little bewildered to see John again. “Couldn’t get enough of me?” he asked.

“Very funny,” John said, looking around. The arcade cabinets were abandoned. He supposed it was dinner time, all the neighbourhood kids were probably at home. “I’m just here to pick up a couple of pizzas. My dad’s friend ordered them.”

“Oh yeah. Of course,” Gale said, hands braced against the counter. He paused. “What’s the name?”

John blinked at Gale. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“You don’t know your dad’s friend’s name?”

“... Lucia’s Dad?”

Gale chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I recall taking that order, man.”

John sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Well. Are there any orders here?”

“Yeah, a few.” A beat of silence passed between them. “Do you know what he ordered?”

“Pizzas.”

Gale smiled, cocking an eyebrow and folding his arms across his chest. “How in the hell do y’all get by in Manitowoc?”

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

Still smiling, Gale pulled some receipts from a small pile to his right. “Here. We’ll go through them both together. You tell me if any of the names or orders ring any bells.”

“Doesn’t this violate pizza-client privilege or something?” John asked, leaning over the counter slightly to look at the order slips with Gale.

“That’s not a thing.”

Apparently, all twelve people in town had ordered pizzas for pick up that evening. As Gale rattled off names and orders, John realized that the pizza boy didn’t even know his name. It seemed very unfair that he knew Gale’s.

“I’m John,” he said, interrupting Gale mid-sentence.

Gale glanced up at John, blinking slowly. “Well, all right. Hello John. I’m Gale.”

“I know. You have a nametag.”

Gale glanced down at his chest and smiled. “So I do. Forgot I had that on. Okay, where were we? Carlos -”

“That’s it! What’s his last name?” John interrupted excitedly.

“I was gonna get to that, y’know,” Gale said, looking up at John and smiling. “Navarro.”

“That’s the one!” John said, taking the slip from Gale and looking at the order. “One pepperoni, one meat lovers, and one vegetarian.”

“Coming right up,” Gale said, heading toward the back as John pulled cash out of his wallet.

While John waited for Gale to come back with the pizzas, he craned his neck to look into the kitchen. “Do you work here alone?” he called out.

He heard Gale laugh. “Why? Comin’ back to kill me tomorrow night?” he replied, still hidden in the back.

“Not my style,” John replied. “Just … you’re the only pizza place in town it seems, and it’s just you here. Seems like a lot of work.”

Gale returns to the counter with three boxes of pizzas, setting them down and then taking the cash from John. “I like to keep busy. My dad comes in during the rushes, but once the pizzas are actually in the oven the rest is just … transactions. Making sandwiches and stuff like that.”

“Right,” John said, watching Gale as he rang up his order and handed John back the change. John tossed some into the tip jar. He picked up the pizzas and nodded a thanks to Gale, who nodded one back and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. John was halfway to the door, before he stopped and turned around. “Gale, what the fuck do people like you and me do around here for fun?”

…

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fan fiction #mota fanfic #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #clegan #bucky x buck #buck x bucky #john egan x gale cleven #1980s summer au #antiquitea.fic

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #stepdad!osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x reader

[bibibbon]

MHA CH 421 rambles

Ok so this was a chapter ok. Iam personally not a fan of what happend here but you do you.

I hated AFO's little monologue. introspection thingy and to be honest sukuna does it better. Look Iam critical of both jjk and MHA as they fail in their own aspects on certain things but dam I couldn't care less for AFO and his monologue I seriously couldn't. Yoichi as already dead and if AFO's goal was to be a supervillain from a comic and to reunite with yoichi then why not just idk get the doctor to do it for him or just die to reunite with AFO 🤷‍♀️. His whole thing about tragedy making people stronger or him not feeling anything didn't even hit well because his development sucks and him coming back feels repetitive anyway

Sero getting to respond to the things about tragedy felt so underwhelming I didn't like it. Sero throughout the whole and entire series lacked any screentime and development for him to be getting a big moment that should be given to another character feels like a horrible move. We seriously don't know of anything that has affected sero aka hurt him directly in the manga (aka something just him) so it all feels underwhelming and disappointing. Unironically, I feel like sero should of been one of those characters who left the story or just stayed as a minor character because hori is trying to develop and give him importance way too late into the story.

Where is inko?!?!?! So we see everyone heck we see the civilians, gran Torino, Kota and Eri all comment and hope for izuku to do something but inko his own mother isn't present. Now this probably means something bad is happening or will happen to inko but if nothing happens and she isn't present then dam classic neglectful inko strikes again ig or if they make it a gag that she fainted out of stress i will just hate it even more

I hate that this is something out of the endgame and if hori was trying to be like gege by making everyone join it felt rubbish. Iam not a fan and I mean it I HATE the whole everyone joining in to fight AFO together type thing and I just do. To me it's Izuku's time to shine and people take down villains and do their jobs in other areas at this point everyone is doing more damage to AFO than Izuku who hasn't even landed a hit on izuku. Also why is it that character like Todorokis who have had their big moments here?!?!? It seems like this is a fight where hori is trying to make everyone have a moment before Izuku lands the final hit which doesn't sit right with me. Like there are characters here who have already had their moments like jirou, camie, yuuga, asui, mina and way more but they're here to ... Assist in the fight have another big moment and make AFO more of a potato character then a proper scary villain

present mic is back which I love. One of the good things is that present mic is alive, it's good to have confirmation of that

Even though I think erasers writing is heavily flawed at least someone is holding Izuku. At least izuku is getting something , some comfort out here at least someone is holding him but dam this seems like a disservice all of this seems like a disservice to izuku. Like I wonder do the civilians feel guilty does anyone feel sad or guilty for having this 16 year old child fight something way bigger than him in the name of peace and other peoples safety?

I think the whole thing with Izuku getting that guy's shirt is rubbish and underwhelming. It just doesn't sit right with me, that guy's shirt would of probably been dirty as hell considering it's the only thing we have seen him wearing. Like @mikeellee told me it would of been more impactful if the shirt was given to izuku and that guy had a healing quirk or helped izuku more directly. Now I get that this is supposed to make the guy more likable and show that he ahs developed which we can see and dam hori can actually give some decent development when he wants to but it all falls flat and doesn't do much for me. Also I have seen someone say that izuku wearing this shirt and it covering his upper half is showing how he is losing his ability to be a hero and dam that breaks me.

I can't with the Izuku running to the battlefield and the parallels kill me (we haven't really developed/moved on from chapter one considering the story just loops around itself). Izuku running towards danger quirkless thinking that it's his job because people who were supposed to help and protect him failed. Izuku now quirkless with only the tiny and fading embers of OFA thinning trying to defeat OFA with the damage of kudos quirk still effecting him. All of this to protect others to help them something he never got during the past. This fight will probably parallel all might but all of this happening and I feel nothing all of it falls flat and I feel bad for izuku that's it.

It was a chapter and considering how I hated previous writing decisions I was also gonna hate on the developed/expanded writing decisions either way

#mha critical #bnha critical #mha #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #izuku deserves better #bhna critical #bnha #mha 421 #bnha 421

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: implied gambling addiction, weapons, implied violence

AO3 link: Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark (2275 words) by She_posts_nerdy_stuff

Chapter One - Jesper

Jesper was late. Again.

He ran out the door of the Slat, jacket half-pulled over his creased shirt and the second sleeve obstinately hiding from him as he rushed into the street. The staves were quiet enough at this time for his hurry to be noticeable, but he didn't have time to care about the strangers glancing at him. He glanced at his watch as he ran, almost tripping over the cobbles. Nine bells. What time had he fallen asleep? He didn’t remember getting back to the Slat, but judging by the exhaustion clinging to his bones it couldn’t have been all that long ago. Dammit, Jesper. He knew he shouldn’t have gone out last night; he knew it would only end up with him being late this morning. But here he was, once again, trying desperately to pass as someone with reasonable respectability as he flew into the university district.

He was more than out of breath by the time he reached the dean’s office, trying to straighten his jacket and smooth his hands over his shirt. It was a deeply boring outfit; a once-white button down and a brown jacket, but Jesper had to forgo his usual Barrel flash on the occasional visits he bothered to make to the university. That didn’t mean he didn’t add his own little flares, of course, but he’d been in too much of a rush this morning to concern himself with that.

“I should have a meeting scheduled,” he said, “Jesper Fahey?”

The receptionist looked him up and down disapprovingly, then opened the almost comically oversized diary sitting on her desk.

“You’re late,”

You don’t think I know that?

“Sorry,”

“He had to start the meeting after yours. Should be another five minutes, but then he has a space open. You can wait over there,”

“Thanks,” 

She made a non-committal ‘mm’ sound, turning back to her other papers. 

Jesper sat opposite the receptionist’s desk, fidgeting, eyes on the door. Why had the dean called him to this meeting? The note had been frustratingly vague, and he’d only seen it because he was coincidentally back at his term-address to collect some fresh clothes when it arrived. There were three more on the table that he’d already missed, so he decided he’d better make it to this one. Maybe they were kicking him out - he wouldn’t be surprised. At least then the decision would be made for him. But if he was expelled, would they somehow inform his father? Jesper shuffled unhappily in his uncomfortable chair.

Another minute passed before the door clicked open and two people emerged through it - the dean, a tall Kerch man in his late forties trying to hide the fact that he was clearly going bald, holding the door for a boy Jesper recognised from one of his classes. A mercher kid, someone had told him on their first day, as they watched the boy walk in and take a seat, something Van Eck. Had some sorta accident when he was a kid, been blind ever since. He looked much younger than Jesper, though he knew they must be about the same age, with soft features and angelic, ruddy curls floating around his head like gravity had taken a liking to him and given them a free pass. Jesper had to admit, he found the kid intriguing. Even in the lessons he’d shown up to, he had several times caught himself studying the boy from across the room and had to force himself to look away. Even if whatever-his-name-was didn’t know he was staring, it still felt rude.

“Thank you, sir,” he was saying to the dean as he slipped through the door, slender cane tapping the ground in front of him.

It was almost rhythmic, like a beat that was waiting for someone to add a melody. The dean had noticed Jesper, he could tell, but waited until the Van Eck kid had left the room before he said:

“Mr Fahey. You came,”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, and then when a brief pause added: “And that I missed the previous meetings you scheduled. I, er, had a problem receiving mail,”

“I see,” he said, a little coolly, eyes flicking over Jesper, “Well, come in,”

Jesper sat in front of the desk, drumming his fingers in his chair, waiting to be told that he was expelled. But the dean just droned on and on, without the final hit ever seeming to come.

“The only class you’ve attended in the last month is Economic Principles for Business and Markets - and even for that you’ve only attended three lessons,” he was saying, when Jesper suddenly remembered he was supposed to be listening and quickly tuned in, “Perhaps we could change your course load to classes more similar to this one, see if that helps motivate you. Do you enjoy Economics?”

Jesper did not. He shrugged.

“Not particularly,”

“Then may I ask why it’s the only class you’ve consistently attended? - even if you do have twelve late marks in it across the year,”

It hadn’t really been a conscious decision. It was an afternoon class, twice a week, easy to get to at least one of them if he got himself together enough - late enough that he’d probably be awake, early enough that he probably wasn’t on a job or in a gambling den. 

“I have a partner project in that class,” he said, truthfully, “I don’t want to let anyone down,”

“Perhaps you should consider not letting yourself down, Mr Fahey,”

Saints, he didn’t hold anything back did he? Jesper shuffled.

“Who’s your partner for this project?”

“Helena Dentte,”

The dean nodded.

“I’m going to switch who you’re working with,”

Jesper wasn’t sure what good that was supposed to do, but he didn’t argue. Helena was nice enough, but she was infuriatingly motivated and it drove him slightly mad when she suggested they meet to study after almost every class - and she probably hated his guts for the curse he was to be partnered with.

“What about the rest of your course?” he glanced through the papers on his desk, “You haven’t attended Comparative Literature - Kerch and Zemeni Poetry since going once last month, your other classes longer,”

Jesper just shrugged again. He was sinking slowly but surely deeper into his chair.

“Not for me,”

“We should look at changing your classes around then. Stick with the business class, whatever’s keeping you there I want to preserve it. But think about what else you’d like to study. If not economics or literature, Mr Fahey, what are you interested in?”

Unwelcome answers offered themselves up in Jesper’s head. He shuffled.

“I don’t know,”

The dean wasn’t particularly impressed. He told Jesper to come back in a week, with at least an idea of what else he might like to study. Sure, Jesper thought, that’s gonna happen.

“I’m very glad you came to this meeting, Mr Fahey. It’s the first step in making a change, and I am only here to help you,”

Jesper mumbled something of a thanks by way of reply as he slipped out the door and slouched away down the corridor.

“Jesper,”

A girl melted from the shadows and appeared at his shoulder, making Jesper jump out of his skin. His hand flinched reflexively towards the revolver hidden in his jacket, but got no further because it only took half a second to see who was talking to him.

“Saints - Inej, you scared the life out of me,”

Inej said nothing for a moment. They walked down the corridor together, would have been shoulder to shoulder if it weren’t for the fact that Inej’s head only just reached Jesper’s shoulder. He’d known Inej Ghafa only a short while, since she’d joined the Dregs a few months ago, but he already doubted he was ever going to get used to the way she appeared and disappeared so quickly, so completely. Never mind any other spiders crawling around in the Barrel, Jesper hadn’t met anyone who could do what Inej could do - to simply erase herself like that, to only be seen when she wanted you to notice her. She was also probably the toughest person he knew - except maybe Kaz, though honestly he might be more scared of getting on Inej’s bad side. Then again, if this was Kaz’s good side maybe he shouldn’t push his luck.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, as they turned the corner.

“Take a wild guess,”

She watched him for a brief moment.

“You’re a student?”

She sounded surprised. That was probably fair.

“Supposed to be. Anyway, I might ask you the same question,”

“Kaz is angry,”

“Kaz is always angry,”

“Kaz is angry with you,”

Jesper shrugged.

“That’s hardly news, Inej. He send you here to get his money? I’ll have it by tomorrow,”

“We both know that’s not true, Jes. And he didn’t send me,” said Inej, frowning, “I came to talk to you, to say you should steer clear of him for a couple of days,”

Really? That bad? Jesper frowned. What had he done to piss off Kaz Brekker this time? 

Inej was studying him, her dark eyes roving slowly over him, her frown remaining intact. She wasn’t exactly what Jesper had expected when Kaz told him a girl from the Menagerie was going to be moving into the Slat, but he wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting. A broken wisp of a girl, he supposed. Inej wasn’t broken, though she’d clearly taken damage, and she could hardly be described as a wisp. Jesper had seen her fight more than enough times to trust that. 

Inej also had a particular skill for the disapproving look she could get to glitter in her eyes on command - or maybe Jesper just brought it out in her. She touched two fingers to one of the knives slung through her belt, murmuring something in Suli.

“Should you really be carrying those in here?” he asked.

Jesper wasn’t actually sure how many knives Inej had, but there must have been at least five on her person at any given moment. She shrugged.

“You have a revolver in your coat,”

“Yeah, in my coat,” he shook his head, “Not on show,”

Inej shrugged.

“Maybe I’m an arts student,”

“Why would an arts student be carrying a thousand knives?”

“Art, obviously,”

Jesper snorted.

“Obviously,”

They were almost outside.

“Just, you know, don’t get arrested,”

Inej smiled.

“I think you’re giving the stadwatch a little too much credit there,” her voice suddenly moved to Jesper’s other shoulder and he turned to try and see her, “Who could possibly arrest a Wraith?”

She was gone. It was broad daylight in a wide courtyard, and Inej Ghafa was gone. Jesper shook his head. Unbelievable. 

*

Jesper didn’t know exactly what he’d done to get on Kaz Brekker’s final nerve, but he wasn’t about to go and find out. He sifted through the piles of stuff stacked unhappily in his university dorm, trying to make enough space for the room to actually be liveable. When had he last slept on campus? Not recently. Maybe it was a good thing Kaz was mad at him, if it was going to keep him out of the Barrel for a few days. Maybe he could even look through the course catalogue, to keep the dean happy, and find out whoever else he was going to partner him up with for Business and Markets. Helena would probably be glad of the change. She could take her thousand and one notebooks to someone who might actually be able to contribute something. 

But why lie? Jesper was itching for a hand of cards. He lay on his back on top of the mattress, studying the ceiling and twisting one of his rings round and round his finger. Unless he snapped and ended up running into a den and just facing Kaz’s wrath, the rings he’d slept in last night were apparently the only flash he was going to enjoy for the next few days. What other clothes did he even have here? He didn’t remember seeing much else in the wardrobe when he came to grab these the other day. He should probably check. He’d do it in a minute.

The next thing Jesper remembered was waking up, jolting upright and almost whacking into the headboard. Damn, he really must have been exhausted. How long had he slept for? He was momentarily disorientated, fumbling for his watch and discovering that it was nearing twelve bells. The curtains were still open and the midday sun streamed through them, highlighting the dust floating through the air. Jepser sighed - just his luck, the single sunny day of the year Ketterdam would bother to grace them all with, and he had slept through most of the morning. He’d needed it though. 

Almost twelve bells. He could make it to his one o’clock class - what was it? Poetry, or something - if he got himself together. Or he could just lie here a little longer, watching the world go by outside his window. 

No. No, if he was here then he should go. He should at least try. 

It was his poetry class today - he checked the timetable shoved in the desk drawer - and it proved to be just as irredeemably boring as he remembered it. But he went. He took a notebook and the fountain pen his Da had given him when he got into university. He didn’t make any notes, but he took them with him. It was something. Sort of. 

He counted it, even if only to make himself feel slightly better.

#let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in the future <3 #don't go blindly into the dark #no beta read #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #wesper #wylan hendriks #matthias helvar #wesper fanfiction #wesper fic

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Was that a fucking raccoon

Barbie dolls: rosekiller x you (Barty crouch, Evan rosier, &you)

Word: 1.8k ish

Summary: Barty goes on a fun adventure on his way to cuddling with you and Evan in his animagus form

Warnings: Barty is raccoon. Allusions to dorlene

Barty enjoyed wrecking havoc while in animagus form. A.) no one really knew who it was so there were basically no reprucusions. B.) he liked hearing people go ‘was that a fucking raccoon?’. He like how easy it was for him to take shiny things. He basically became a niffler. He liked how his tiny little raccoon hands could get into nooks and crannies he couldn’t in human form. Barty liked crawling around on the ceiling and dropping down onto people when they least expected it. He wasn’t sure how long he physically could stay in animagus form, but he knew after two days straight he’d forget his size. He’d try to scatter off through a small hole only to realize he was a people :(.

The second he found out all the student body had an extra free day, he knew he’d be in animagus form. Barty woke up quite early that day, 10 am. He jumped out of bed, immediately turning into a raccoon. Barty skittered out the door and started racing up and down the halls, deciding what to do first. He ran out towards the courtyard, deciding fresh air was his first task. Barty ran around the closest tree, before making his way up into the branches. He found a squirrel frozen in fear from his presence. Barty heard someone talking under the tree. He poked his head down.

It was the same guy from second year who tripped Evan. Barty attacked the squirrel, pushing it off the branch. The squirrel squirmed in the air as it fell. It hit the boy square in the head, before clawing at his shoulders. Barty chirped out a laugh as the squirrel ran away, leaving a large scratch mark on the boys face. Barty pranced off the branches waltzing away from the tree.

Barty walked down the halls, looking for something else to do. Barty spotted the door to his least favorite professor off to the side. Once you came in late to his class and the professor wouldn’t let you in, you missed the entire class. Barty considered it karma. He ran into the office, scattering behind the desk. He found a locked drawer. He was able to pick the lock easily, his tiny raccoon hands working swiftly. He peered inside. Boring test answers. So maybe stealing wasnt the best route, there’s nothing much to take.

He started running around the room, knocking over everything he could. He kicked over the professor’s tea, spilling it on his papers. Barty continued chasing his own tail around the room. He broke glass items. He ripped papers. He found the professor’s snack drawer. Barty was deciding which snacks he wanted more when he heard the door smack into a knocked over chair.

“What the hell?” Barty poked his head up, over the edge of the desk. The professor stared at him blankly. Barty latched onto the closest three snacks before running off. He slid between the professor’s legs, out the door. He ran down the hallway, ignoring the professors yells. He turned the corner and hid in a nearby empty closet.

Barty sat on the floor, looking to see which snacks he got. He got a bag of pretzels, Fritos, and an individually wrapped cupcake. He ripped open the pretzel bag. A few flung into the air. One smacked him in the head. He ignored it munching on his pretzels. Barty hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, though now it’d be more of a lunch. He finished his pretzels fairly quickly. Barty wiped his hands on his fur before ripping into the Fritos. He finished those fast too. He looked at the cupcake, deciding he’d save it for later. He looked around the closet. Barty climbed up the shelf. He searched through all the cleaning supplies. He found a small blue towel. He snatched it and jumped off the shelve. He landed on his feet just fine, picking the cupcake and towel in between his teeth.

He left his trash in the closet, before running back out into the halls. Barty needed to find Dorcas. He scattered off towards her favorite place. In the hall towards the astronomy tower was a cushioned bench. Dorcas often sat and read there. It was quiet and very few people actually left down that hall.

Just as he suspected, Dorcas was sitting on the bench with her book open in her lap. He ran up towards her. She glanced up at the sound of a raccoon’s paws. Barty jumped up onto the bench, dropping the small towel and cupcake on her book. She brushed her fingers between his eyes, petting the top of his head.

“Hello, Barty. I see you're stealing today.” Barty flared his teeth at her. Lies. Barty would never steal. He just borrows without permission. Barty patted the towel before jumping back onto the floor and pointing at her backpack on the ground.

“You want something out of my backpack?” Barty huffed and slapped his paw on top of the towel again. Dorcas stared at the towel for a long moment before she glanced back at her backpack.

“You want the towel to be a little raccoon backpack?” Barty celebrated her understanding by spinning around in a circle. Dorcas nodded, accepting the challenge. Dorcas was a quite crafty person, Barty was entirely certain she could do it. After a few minutes of Barty exploring the area around the bench, bored of sitting and waiting, Dorcas called out to him. He came back to her. She motioned for him to spin around. Barty followed her orders. Dorcas gently helped Barty slip his arms through the straps of his towel backpack.

He chittered happily. Barty patted the cupcake in Dorcas’ lap before spinning around again. Dorcas understood, slipping the cupcake into his backpack. Barty chittered again, giving Dorcas a nip on her finger in appreciation. He started off again, his claws clacking on the stone floors. Just as he turned the corner he ran into someone's boots. Barty pulled back, staring up at the assailant.

Marlene stared down at him in confusion. She squated down and reached out to pet him. Barty pulled his head away. He heard Dorcas call Marlene’s name. Marlene glanced up towards the corner. She stepped around Barty as he ran away. Barty slid down the stair banisters as he headed towards the Slytherin common room.

He took a shortcut through the courtyard. Barty spotted a pretty color out of the corner of his eye. He backtracked. Barty plucked the flower. He held it between his teeth as he booked it the common room again.

On his way he noticed familiar hair hanging on the wall. Pandora had found a high up window sill. It was thick enough for her to lay on her back up there. Her head was dangling upside down from the edge of the sill. Barty chittered. Pandora smiled at him upside down. Barty spun around in a circle, earning a cheer from Pandora. Barty sat back on his hind legs, pulling the flower out from between his teeth. He held it out towards Pandora. She gasped and pulled her wand from her pocket. The flower left Barty's hand, floating off towards Pandora. Just as Barty was about to leave, Pandora called to him.

A small box of dark chocolate came down from the window sill, settling gently in front of him. Barty purred, thanking Pandora. He picked up the box before prancing into the common room. The door opened. The mystery Hogwarts raccoon was an honorary Slytherin in the student body’s eyes.

The few people in the commonroom greeted him with various names. No one could pick their favorite so he was ‘Mr. Snuffles Patty-cake Betty Brian Mittens Trashy Panda Man’ most of the time. If someone reached out to pet him he jumped away.

Today Mr. Snuffles Patty-cake Betty Brian Mittens Trashy Panda Man was on a mission. He ran up the stairs to the dorms. Barty took them as fast as one raccoon can go. He found the door easily. It was propped open with a book, a divination book more specifically. Barty set the box down before nudging the door open with his nose. He grabbed onto the box with his teeth again, prancing into the dorm. He shut the door with his behind before glancing around the room.

Your shoes were set perfectly straight on the floor next to Evan's bed. Your bookbag was sat next to them. Barty ran over to Evan's bed, seeing the outline of you both on top of it. Barty tripped over your shoes, knocking them out of place. He dropped the box of chocolate out of his mouth before standing up on his hind legs, pawing at the sheets. He announced his presence with a sad chirp, missing out cuddles. You popped your head up, glancing down. You smiled at seeing your favorite raccoon.

“Hello, darling. Did you have fun?” You muttered petting Barty between his ears.

“Barty's back?” Evan whispered his voice muffled by his pillow. You watched as Barty pulled his box of chocolate up, holding it out towards you. You took it and set it on the bed, before helping Barty up onto the mattress. Barty grabbed onto the chocolate pulling it towards the gap in-between you and Evan.

Your legs were pressed against each other. There was a large gap in between you two. The only other part of your bodies that were touching were your foreheads. The space between you two was creating a makeshift nest.

Barty pushed the box of chocolate towards Evan. Evan peeked one eye open, teetering on sleep. He smiled at Barty, thanking him. Evan picked up the box, turning backwards to set on his nightstand. Evan thanked Barty again, giving him scritches behind his ears. Barty turned his back towards you, pointing his backpack out towards you.

You helped his arms out of the makeshift sleeves. Barty spun around, pulling the cupcake out of the towel. He jutted his head out towards you, the cupcake package held between his teeth. You gently took the cupcake out of his mouth. He stared at you as you awkwardly sat with it in your hands.

“For me?” Barty nodded, nudging it further back into your palm. You cooed, rubbing Barty under his chin. He purred at you. You set your cupcake on the other nightstand behind you. You laid back down pressing your forehead against Evan's again. Barty spun around in circles between you two, trying to find a comfortable place. He finally sat down, curling up into a ball.

You reached out and pet him gently. Barty's eyes fluttered close. Your movements slowed as you fell asleep yourself, your hand resting on Barty's back.

Barty loved wreaking havoc in his animagus form, but his absolute favorite thing is cuddling with his two partners in animagus form. He didn't appreciate Evan's loud ass snores, though.

#rosekiller x reader #rosekiller #barty x reader #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty x evan #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #evan x barty #evan x reader #evan rosier #evan rosier x reader #barty crouch jr x evan rosier #the marauders era #the marauders #the maraunders map #marauders era #marauders #dead gay wizards

[deerlottie]

What about big sister Shauna? :D

THE older sister relationship stereotype. think malcolm and reese but a little more tame

fucking hates you and hits you when you do so much as breathe in her vicinity but if anyone else picks on you it's Big sister mode. she'll leave them traumatized and maybe with a couple of bruises and takes you out to like 7/11 after to get some slurpees while being like "are you okay i love you i hate you im glad you're alive i fucking despise you"

did that thing when you two shared rooms where she'd place tape over her part of the room and if you crossed it at all she'd yell at you for invading her personal space 😭 ALSO did the thing where she'd pretend you hit her but it always backfired because you're the youngest and sweetest and an angel - according to your parents at least >__>

ohhhh writes up a storm about you and ur parents in her journal let me tell you.... especially her younger years like she was untamed.. it was looking like she was writing to some demons to fucking sacrifice you or something 😭😭

speaking of her journal, she went batshit crazy if you even looked at it, let alone attempted to snoop. HAD THE TECH JOURNAL OMG. the pink one that was voice activated. she cried for days when you straight up just broke it and wrote "poop-head" and "gay" all over her entries LMFAO

nothing was better than eavesdropping when she brought jackie over too omg...lying on ur stomach by her door and listening in to them talk about what they're gonna name their baby on sims

calling jackie shauna's girlfriend and it's the only time she's too flustered to insult you back

thinking about shauna begrudgingly coming to you for help to get more coins on club penguin because you're really good at cart surfer 🙄

she's more territorial over her books than her journal almost, but she'll lend you them. and maybe she tolerates you more because you're actually interested in reading them but she'll never tell u that....buying more books that she thinks you'd like 😖

i'd like to imagine her taking you to school in that fuck ass car of hers. ur surprised, and kinda bummed out, that it never broke down on the way to, and she NEVER let u mess with the radio >__> she'd rather crash while slapping ur hand away than listen to the music you pick

if we're talking about big sister shauna who's like...a year or two older, she'd act like she has no idea who you are when ur in school together 😭 you come up to her and her friends during recess and wanna play with her but she wants nothing to do with you 🙄 she feels bad when she sees you walking away with ur head down and makes a note to give you her brownie during lunch

the occasional time you'd get along, you make forts with her and watch ur favorite shows. tucking you back in bed with ur fav stuffed animal if you accidentally fell asleep :( she'd make you the Best homemade gifts ever for ur birthdays too!!!!! like a little book she made of stories to entertain you or that time she was really into clay and made you a safe to drink mug :3

at the end of the day, you wouldn't trade her for the world no matter how many times you wished she wasnt your sister

#yellowjackets x reader #.myworks

[lazerswordweilder]

I wanna see Danny absolutely insane. Not like. We got too silly insane. Like, pushed past his breaking point, desperately trying to hold on, for the fifth time this week, and it’s Monday.

I wanna see him smile when Dash shoves him into his locker, because he’s not sure what to do. On one hand he’s so done with this, and he knows he could end Dash in a fraction of a second. On the other hand, it was almost reassuring, nostalgic, he remembers when this used to hurt.

I wanna see ghosts and humans alike, go to hurt or bother Danny Fenton Phantom. And have them stop when he turns around, because the look in his eyes is not something they understand nor want to mess with. Lancer saw a weight he thought only characters in books could possibly have to carry, Paulina saw tears and when has anyone ever seen him cry, Vlad saw exhaustion that cuts into your very core but you have to keep going because that’s what’s expected of you, Ember saw grief and pain over something that never happened but could’ve been, Dash saw pain a hundred times worse than anything he’s ever felt, Jazz saw protectiveness of a kingdom who hates him, Wes swears he looked insane.

And Danny? Danny is done with their shit. And he doesn’t swear. He’s so tired of everything, he’s so close to giving up, he is very much not feeling phantastic right now. He’s got more scar tissue than skin, he’s pretty sure everything he owns has at least a little of his blood on it by now, he’s forgotten what feeling okay is like, and he can’t even begin to describe everything else, and he means everything. He’s got half the mind to track down who ever said death was peaceful and make them deal with his life. But he’s a hero. Right?

He knows he’s got duties, the Realms needs a king, Amity needs a protector (both the humans and the ghosts), Danny Fenton needs to go to school. Oh and he’s pretty sure Frostbite is having a panic attack after looking at him which is ridiculous. But still, the stars seem real inviting right now, he wonders if Clockwork would turn back time for him and just let him sleep on the moon for 200 or so years. Probably not. (Clockwork absolutely would’ve). He might just do it anyways. It’s kind of ridiculous how much somethings just look like comfy beds to sleep in for a trillion years to him now, he fell asleep in a snow bank earlier which wasn’t nearly cold enough. But it’s kind of fair Danny supposes, he can’t remember the last time his home really felt like home, and Amity in general is his haunt, but eh, whatever.

Still though, having your enemy worried for you is really something. Like Vlad should comment, Vlad’s the source of a small fraction of his problems! Which is a lot! First of all having to worry about another source of constant attacks, having to try and convince his parents that Vlad is so clearly evil, having to check up on Dani and also make sure Vlad isn’t trying anything like that again, and not to mention the whole mayor of the town he lives in thing.

Okay this kind of got off track. But my point is, I want it to be too much, instead of somehow managing to survive it all and getting help, Danny gets pushed off the edge (and can’t get out) and he just goes crazy, he breaks down right in the middle of school over a minor inconvenience, laughing then sobbing then screaming then wailing for ancients knows how long. Then he flies off somewhere and continues to breakdown for a while, then he returns to his life like nothing happens, but it did.

That was it.

He can’t be pulled back now. You had your chance. You all had so many chances. And now he’s lost it for good. And you all deserve it.

He’s not going to apologise for punching Dash through a wall, he’s not going to apologise for whatever he did in that little blacked out period of time, he’s not going to apologise for taking a nap in the observatory and hissing and attacking all the tourists and everyone else, he’s not going to apologise for dissecting his parents, he’s not going to apologise for making Vlad regret it, he’s not going to apologise for making the ghost writer eat a book, he’s not going to apologise at all.

You let him get like this. He doesn’t want to shift the blame. But what was he supposed to do? No. Oh no. Don’t try to explain. This is all your fault. And he’s tired of pretending he’s fine. And he’s tired of helping. Because you lost that a while back.

You all don’t even know how dead you are to him, he had a little regret when it came to Sam and Tucker and Jazz, and that’s why they’re alive right now. Because they did all they could, well, not all they could, but that was because he asked them not to tell. Maybe he shouldn’t off.

-

All hail the high king Danny Fenton Phantom. The king who never stopped crying.

#danny phantom #lazerswordweilder writes

[isa-ghost]

I see you have hcs, do you have any for mr fitmc?

Yes!!

Here's some ones of his relationship with Phil past and present too bc I don't think I have Fit standalone ones until now.

Obviously these will apply to AMFMN Fit too!

Fit is extremely observant and perceptive. Years of roaming a wasteland, spending every minute of every day documenting, chronicling, exploring and witnessing so much really sharpens those kinds of skills. Not much gets past Fit unless he simply wasn't there or doesn't know. All it takes is an inkling and he'll start connecting dots and making theories.

It's why he Hates the Federation. Not only is he an anarchist, he hates the way they make it so easy to keep him in the dark. It's why he weaseled into it in the first position he could get. Being a janitor sucks, but it's something. Anything to get a foundation for making next moves.

He struggles with trust though. He trusts people, but very few if any does he trust whole-heartedly. Pac & Phil are likely the only ones he trusts that much. And even then, he doesn't confide in anyone nearly as deeply as he does Ramon. Spending so much of his life in 2B2T has taught him to reserve trust for people who prove without a doubt that they're ride or die with you. He wishes he didn't find it so difficult to trust more people though.

Okay complete 180 in vibes here but I'm very passionate about this one: Fit has a giant warhammer that's his weapon of choice. Chainsaw, scythe, potato cannon, whatever other stuff he's got is good. But big fucking hammer. With those muscles? Oughoughouhgh.

By the way he never in his life had experienced people simping for his muscles or flirting with him prior to being on QI. It was whiplash and it's changed him for the worst /pos

On the surface it seems like Fit is pretty cold or at least disinterested in stuff that leans on the vulnerable side. It's not entirely wrong, he's spent so long in a place where vulnerability gets your base blown to smithereens or gets you robbed blind or both. But he Does enjoy such things. I mean, just look at the Fitpac date! And hugs? Hugs rock! He'd be so much worse off if he didn't let loose or let himself lower his guard every now and then. It takes a lot of energy to keep those walls up, it'd be unhealthy to never let them down. Especially in a place like Quesadilla Island, where it seems like it's a bit safer to do so. Honestly, he's the opposite of disinterested in letting walls down. He wants that more than anything, and it took being put on QI, becoming a dad, and falling in love for him to realize it.

Which makes keeping up this facade really hard. Not just the whole "snooping for data" thing, just Everything Fit has built himself to be over the years altogether. He doesn't want to keep holding people at arm's length and looking over his shoulder all the time anymore. It's exhausting.

That's not to say he wouldn't relapse right back to how he was before QI softened him up, though. Again, those trust issues. Purgatory really fucked with his head for a while. And plenty of things that happened after, like the whole Phil Ender King thing, really didn't help either. What he's going through is a form of healing, and healing isn't linear.

He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Be it with dirt, blood, or otherwise. His motto is you gotta do what you gotta do. He's a very means to an end kinda guy. And despite wishing he could shed being so hardened by the 2B2T Wastelands, he does value that it's given him this kind of strength. It takes a lot to be willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want.

The reason Fit loves fofoca is not only because he enjoys indulging his inner drama whore. He's spent most of his life roaming a place where secrets were as good if not better of a trade than actual currency. When he first arrived on QI, he wasn't entirely sure how to just. Casually socialize. There's little to no risk in it. It was incredibly foreign to him. But it turns out that gossip is like trading secrets in a different font. He's good at that. So collecting and spreading fofoca is how he taught himself to appear kind of "normal" to the other islanders.

Most if not all of the above is also evidence to support the fact that Fit in general is a very adaptive person. You can put him in any environment, as soon as he gets the gist of the status quo and what kind of stakes he's dealing with here, he'll manage no problem. Chances are he's experienced worse. Purgatory and the prison are 2 good examples.

Calling back to the wanting to be vulnerable + confiding in Ramon the most things, GOD is he grateful he got such a brilliant son. Ramon learned a lot from him, but even so, he already had many of the same traits Fit does. It did wonders for bonding, and it's part of what made trusting Ramon come so easy. He's glad he got a son that's so understanding of the way he operates.

The only thing stopping him from taking a page from Cellbit and just starting to kill Feds for information or other reasons is because he knows he'll get more out of playing the long con and letting himself be strung along. Infiltration goes further than outright brutality in his eyes. Brutality is saved for something you no longer need anything from.

Btw his stealth skills are fucking insane. In 2B2T your detection is life or death, and it'll only end in your favor if you can talk sweet enough or have something worth bargaining with. He often did one or the other, but even so, a historian like him typically lacked anything of much value to most bandits and the like. He was simply charismatic and lucky. Which means staying hidden, laying low, and moving with more calculation than a math class is more beneficial to him. And boy has it come in handy on the island too.

In his time on QI, once The Horrors all started, he's learned he really likes having intense intellectual talks with other islanders. Strategizing, theorizing. It feels like the survival he's so used to but with less imminent threats on his life. Bagi especially is an absolute delight to get into these kinds of talks with. It feels like casual socializing and the kind of talking he's used to at the same time. Very much his jam.

#qsmp #qsmp fit #qsmp fitmc #q!fit #q!fitmc #fitmc #qsmp headcanons #AMFMN things