#the puns won me over i admit

[maybe-arts]

funnily enough this is another one of the prompts that has accidentally repeated between last and this year. my tastes haven't changed much - i'm still ride or die for Dedede, and Kirby is still my beloved baby boy...

and then magolor epilogue happened.

#kirby #kirby series #traditional art #inktober #inktober 2023 #kirbytober #kirbtober #kirbytober 2023 #kirbtober 2023 #king dedede #magolor #i reluctantly add magolor to the list of faves #i think i've adopted him as f/o brother #he makes me wanna hug him but also yeet him at the wall #the puns won me over i admit

[deartouya]

i like you a latte | denki kaminari.

denki kaminari's determined to make you fall in love with him, cheesy one-liners and all, even if it takes months and puts him in debt. little does he know he's already won you over, you just like watching him fumble.

pairing: denki kaminari x gn!barista!reader

word count: 1.3k

content: reader has a job!, mentions of food/eating, lots of fluff, denki's cheesy but it's fine bc he's cute

hehe do you like my very clever pun ?? i think writing this made me realize i'm a little in love with denki </3 he's a charming dork idk. written as part of @cup-of-fluff's time to shine collab !! ty so much for hosting ^-^ this was soso much fun to write,, im sorry for being a whole month late ;—;

You’re beginning to think Chargebolt doesn’t have any friends. At least, you would if you hadn’t seen him sitting at their crowded table—Red Riot, Alien Queen, Deku, Ingenium, Cellophane, even Dynamight makes the occasional, disgruntled, appearance—his elbows planted in their sides and smiles splitting their faces. Or a poorly hidden grin in Dynamight’s case. But, you reason, he must not like them very much with how much of his time is spent alone in the cafe. Always in the same spot, the same order, with the same barista: you.

So, he has friends. He’s just decided to spend all his precious free time drinking over-priced lattes and eating equally expensive cheese Danishes. Sometimes he brings a binder, thick with unorganized papers and what looks like incredibly important reports, but he never even opens it—too busy monopolizing your company and stretching over the little cafe table to get your attention. 

You can’t really complain, though. He always attracts a crowd, even with an incredibly inconspicuous cap pulled over his eyes, which means more orders and more tips and more money. You also can’t deny that you’re just the tiniest bit amused with him, all with his cheesy smiles and jokes and flattery. 

Which, he’s not nearly as skilled at as the press pretends. Pro Hero Chargebolt, with his bolstering reputation as a flirt with—reportedly—never-ending charm never fails to come up with the most nauseatingly cheesy café puns. Puns which have, regrettably, endeared you to the Pro.

“Just admit it, you’re in love with him! Y’know it’s healthy, everyone is in love with at least one member of class 1a,” Izumi’s wrought with faux consolation, “it’s human nature, inevitable even. And most people don’t have them sitting in the front of their shop every week.”  

“I’m not in love with him,” you huff, sounding too much like a petulant child for your liking. Izumi’s tease isn’t new either, ever since Denki first showed up during one of your shared shifts, she's been insufferable. 

“That’s not what your eyes say—they get all hazy and lovesick when he’s ordering,” Izumi says, voice high and sing-songy as she finishes clearing the last table, “and I think your chargebolt keychain says otherwise too.” 

“You bought me that.” She doesn’t falter under your glare, though, smile only widening as she perches on the counter, chin cradled in her palms. “And you’re just hoping if he keeps coming around, he’ll bring Ingenium with him.” 

A forlorn look suddenly passes over Izumi’s face as she remembers the one and only time he visited, a time she wasn’t even working, “and alas, it’s only happened once.” 

“I’m not in love with him. He’s a good Pro Hero and I respect the work that he does.” She scoffs a laugh, earning a very pointed stare, “now, back to work—if you burn my muffins, I'm making you re-bake them.”

It ends the conversation—Izumi disappearing back into the kitchen, palms raised and facing you with a grin—but it settles deep and heavy in your mind. Her words repeat themselves to you throughout the day and into the next. You’d gotten used to Denki being there, to all his cheesy flirts and smiles. So used to them you’re not sure what a week would be like without them. Some selfish part of you hopes you never find out.

“They’ll work on you someday,” Denki catches your eye as you pass, the rest of the cafe quiet and empty. He’d been there since his morning patrol, entertaining the same blueberry muffin and attempting to fold his napkins into paper cranes. He was getting better at it despite the little stack of lopsided and half-formed birds.

He smiles, as bright as the dying sun streaming in through the cafe’s open windows. He watches you clear the table next to him, eyes trailing the slope of your nose and the subtle curve of your smile. His grin broadens when you scoff to hide your grin. 

“Don’t you have t-shirts and headshots to sign, hero?” You can’t help the way you chew at your lip, fighting off the warmth bubbling there. He’s right, it’ll work on you, it is working on you. His voice calling you brew-tiful haunts you everytime you make a chai latte. He’s sunny and determined and you can’t help the way you relish the whole of his attention being focused on you. “You’ve had three tables staring at you the entire hour you’ve been here.”

“I’m not trying to woo them, I’m trying to woo you,” it’s a simple sentence, but it's the way he says it that gets to you. Sure and just a little exasperated—like it’s obvious he’d rather watch you clear tables for the next hour than anything else. “Is it working?”

Denki’s grinning again—wider, brighter, and utterly charmed by himself—from where his cheek is squished into his fist and you can feel the way your pulse stutters. He’s charming, disarmingly so, bundled in some obscure graphic t-shirt and bright pink puffer, jeans marked up with lightning bolts you’re pretty were done by him, he’s pretty. Prettier than you’d ever admit to his face, you think his ego’s plenty big enough.

“Maybe,” your voice is drawn out and teasy, hiding any nerves as you move to clear the last few tables of cups and pastry platters, “maybe not.”

Denki’s face warms just a bit in the way it always does when you tease, cheeks splitting with the force of his grin as he—somehow—leans closer. He watches you disappear behind the counter, picking through what's left of the muffins and danishes to reemerge with a square of cake—bright and citrusy in a way which always reminds you of him.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he fumbles with the words despite saying them every week, a stack of manilla folders and binders, the same ones he’d been using as an arm rest, decidedly not working, are stuffed under one arm. He smiles and you’re reminded of spring and the warmth of the sun on your face, “rain or shine.”

“I know. I can’t wait.” You return his grin, lifting the slice of cake, now nicely wrapped and ribboned, “for the road.” The road being his half a block walk back to his apartment, though you know he’ll probably still have the slice eaten before he gets there.

Denki’s fingers brush against yours as you hand off the box. A chill runs up your spine at the contact. His hands are always warm, he’s always warm and this close you can smell the familiar citrusy warmth of his cologne. The thought makes you want to hold his hands, wonder what they’d feel like laced with your own.

You shake the thought with a smile, ignoring the little hitch in your chest when he turns to leave, forcing yourself not to watch him and hoping he’d find your note once he got home.

The note, written neatly on a slip of construction paper a week ago, is tucked into the top of the box. You’d written it the day after Izumi had teased you, hiding it beneath the tip jar and hoping that you’d work up the courage to slip it to him. ‘ I like you a latte too, hero. just make sure to save some of those lines of yours for the date ;)  

xxx-xxx-xxxx 

You think he forgot how glass works, pausing in front of the shop's corner to pump a jittery fist, the one still clutching your napkin and number—full and happy. The sight startles a laugh out of you. Denki’s head whips up to find you—face flushed and beaming—and he makes a show of waving the notecard in his hand.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #✶ writes #✶ writes.bnha #✶ writes.denki

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 ‘𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞

Bucky had prepared a surprise for you, much to your amusement, and it wasn’t even the end of the night — a battle of wits was to be fought.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❧ Baker!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Wife!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ❧ 1.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ❧ Fluff, established relationship, Bucky is adorable and sweet, so many puns

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❧ I have missed writing established relationship starters. ❧ A special thank you to @smutconnoisseur for torturing me with puns.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ❧ Mess Is Mine by Vance Joy

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ❧ @pupandkisasaesthetics Aesthetic Challenge — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“You’re meant to put apples into it, babe,” you huffed. The baker, Bucky – your husband, best friend, and truth be told, one hell of a stubborn idiot, looked at you with a pout. “I said apple pie.”

“Yeah, and?” he questioned, like it mattered. “I wanted to surprise you!”

You sighed and stared at the pie on the bench. “At least it’s after hours–no one to come in here and see what an absolute mess you’ve made.”

“Shuddup,” Bucky mumbled, his cheeks a dusky pink. “Don’t be such a sourdough.”

“Very funny.”

The bakery you owned with him was filled with the potent aroma of brown sugar and pear, peaches, and cherries – a mix you hadn’t thought would work or pan out well, but here Bucky was, proving you wrong at every turn. Benches and counters of your kitchen and serving bench were covered in the mess of batter and flour, the remnants of a battle won by the skin of his teeth with the new recipe he had fixated upon. 

“Alright,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Bucky had the decency to act shy. “Baby, let’s get this cleaned up and then we can try your masterpiece, I promise.”

Bucky blinked and looked down at the pie. “You don’t have to, doll–I was just messin’ around.”

“Of course I do,” you assured, and you stepped closer to kiss him on the cheek. “It’ll be nice ‘n sweet, just like my husband, yeah?”

“Yeah.” His cheeks bloomed rose red and he rushed off around you to grab a broom. 

With a sigh, you set to work tidying up the ingredients he used. You truly adored the oaf, and taking him under your wing had been one of the best decisions next to actually marrying him, and opening up your bakery. His eagerness to please and his excitement to learn warmed your heart. 

It was just a wonder how bull headed he could be when he set his mind to something. The pie truly did look delightful – not even a burnt edge. “You did a really good job on this, baby,” you called over your shoulder. “I know your forte is more cakes, so you’ve done a pretty damn good job.”

Bucky appeared in the doorway and grinned sheepishly. “Why, thank you, dear wife,” he said smugly. 

“You’re never going to stop saying that, are you?”

“Nope.”

Light banter accompanied the clean-up of Bucky’s flour disaster – each comment and tease met with an equal response of mirth and cheek. The sun had started to set by the time the two of you had finished cleaning up the last traces of his venture, and you huffed a sigh as you stood up straight, rolling your shoulders. 

“I don’t know about you, my sexy stud muffin,” you said, and Bucky snorted. “But I could go for some damn good pie.”

“I just hope it’s good,” Bucky admitted, wringing his callused hands as he stared at the aforementioned pie. “I did everything you taught me…”

“Oh, Buck.” His stubbled cheeks were warm under your hands as you forced him to look at you. “It will be amazing. And I am so proud of you. You are an accomplished baker, give yourself the credit you deserve–you’re tackling something that you’re not used to.”

Bucky turned his head and kissed your palm, his lips soft and gentle. “God, I fuckin’ love you so much, Apple.”

“And I know that we knead one another to make this work–it’s a no grainer,” you whispered back, scrunching your nose at his deadpan expression. 

“That was awful.” Bucky sidestepped around you and headed towards the pie on the counter, two plates in hand. 

“There’s no need to bake my heart, stud muffin,” you whined, pouting at him. “C’mon.”

“Don’t give me that crepe, doll,” Bucky replied to you, his back turned, but you saw the minute hitch of his shoulders – the bastard was holding in his laughter. “Come here so we can try this pie.”

“Fine.” You moved quickly to his side and watched him slice into the pie – steam rising from the exposed, sweet filling and you whistled. “Looks s’good.”

Bucky smirked and handed you a plate. “Here you go, my favourite bun.”

The first bite into the pastry was an explosion of tart sweetness – the tang from the peaches and the slight bitterness from the pears paired nicely with the sweetness of the cherries. You couldn’t help but moan quietly at the combined flavours, which Bucky started at. “You alright there, honey?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, what did you put in this?”

He went on to explain the ingredients, and when he mentioned cinnamon – in quite a large quantity, you grinned. “So that’s what made it a lil’ spicy–couldn’t quite tell with the explosion in my mouth.” You stared at Bucky and the beginnings of his sly, filthy smirk. “No. Get your mind out of the gutter, you horndog.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Bucky defended; hands raised. “I swear-”

“Yeah, and like I would believe you,” you retorted, lips curled in a playful sneer. “Now leave me alone so I can eat this pie in peace.”

“Now you’re bakin’ my heart, baby,” Bucky said mournfully, sniffling with crocodile tears. “So mean, so ryeful.”

“Get out,” you growled, pointing to the kitchen of the bakery. “Go on, get.”

Bucky pouted and slunk off, metaphorical tail between his legs, slice of pie still in hand. “But-”

“No buts,” you called, still pointing at the kitchen. “Time out–that was awful and you deserve to be punished.” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Bucky’s brows waggled suggestively, and you reached for a stale roll on the counter. “Be gone!”

The roll hit him with a dull smack right in the middle of his forehead. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’–I loaf you, doll!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at his retreating back. “Such an idiot,” you muttered, smiling to yourself. 

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” Bucky called from the kitchen. You could hear the smug smile in his voice, and you imagined his prideful smile at that fact. 

“And I’m yours,” you replied, muffled by the mouth full of pie. 

Bucky chuckled, then you heard the clink of cutlery on his plate, and you dug into your own slice of pie with reverence.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #pup&kisasaestheticchallenge #rookthorne's works

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I enjoyed that latest Taskmaster episode a lot. I don’t know why I’ve hardly written any posts about this season since it started, as it’s been really good. Here’s a brief summary of my updates opinions four episodes in:

- The main thing I wanted for Nick was a chance to show off his magician-related skills. He got that chance in the tension task… it did not go as I’d predicted. However, he has made up for breaking my predictions by turning out to be the sweetest person in the world. It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper cinnamon roll on Taskmaster. I think his gentle banter with Greg continues to be the funniest thing he brings, it’s delightful every time.

- Steve Pemberton won me over in the first couple of episodes, but then lost me pretty hard by admitting he broke that egg on purpose, I must admit I am now pretty focused on hoping he loses specifically as punishment for that. I got mad at him then for sacrificing the task in order to play to the TV edit/try too hard to be funny – he’s done similar things several times since, like imposing extra rules in the Mr. Blobby task and writing puns in the hand task. It is not in the spirit of Taskmaster! He’s probably basically fine but I want him to lose so that future Taskmaster contestants understand you do not come here to perform, you come here to play. I don’t even just hold that belief because of how competitive I am, I also think it’s much funnier if you let you and throw yourself right into the game, which he’s not quite doing, and it disproportionately annoys me.

- I find Sophie Willan’s unpredictability entertaining. Usually she’s shit at the tasks, and every once in a while she’ll be great. She has no idea what’s going on almost ever but apparently has a good eye for art. She talks to horses. She nearly drowns in a river that only goes up to her waist. She demonstrates sexy dances that literally no one asked her to do? She has never seen this show before. You never know what she’s going to bring to the table next.

- All right, Joanne McNally’s won me around. She went in with a significant deficit in my opinion of her because I say some quite shitty things on a different TV show once, but four episodes in, she’s been entertaining enough for me to forgive it (I mean… I don’t actually forgive the sentiment expressed, but I can decide I like her enough to choose to assume it was just a misguided attempt to be funny). She’s breathing life into tense situations and tension into situations where the task explicitly requests it. She’s also never seen the show before but she’s throwing herself all the way into it. She’s consistently funny. She’s sharp and knows what’s going on, task-wise, almost all the time, while making it look fairly effortless. She didn’t do the prep work but I respect that she still showed up to play.

- Well, we haven’t had the full-on meltdowns from Robins, but I kind of knew that would happen, as they caught him just as he was moving into his “sober and more enlightened” era. It will always be a loss that Taskmaster never cast Farthinggate-era Robins when they had the chance, but I’m actually surprised at how much I’m enjoying “on his best behaviour Robins”. Mainly because it is visibly incredibly difficult for him to not have competitive meltdowns and to play it as chill as he is (which still isn’t very chill, it’s just chill compared to what he used to be), and the tension of that difficulty can be very funny. Maybe it’s like how people trying to avoid swearing on the radio is funnier than just hearing them swear. I’ve heard John Robins have plenty of proper competitive meltdowns – it is a new and uniquely entertaining thing to watch him sit there and try to physically force every nerve in his body to not do that. A whole new level of the pointless intensity. Those team tasks especially have potential for it. Also, they’ve used the same joke several times now, but I don’t mind at all. They could keep implying that John’s fucked up a task and giving him time to panic before saying it’s fine – that might get old after 100 or so episodes, but 10 episodes wouldn’t be nearly enough for that to stop being funny. I’d be fine if they keep it up all season. I desperately hope he wins but I also hope they torture him.

I have to admit I may have got too into the competition too early in this season, because normally it isn’t until the last few episodes, if the scores are tight, when I start to get really concerned about whether it’ll end up going my way. But yesterday, while watching episode four, I found myself genuinely stressed during every task because of how much I want John Robins to beat Steve Pemberton. I mean, I want him to win, but I specifically want him to beat Steve Pemberton, because I do not want someone to get away with being smugly too good to throw himself entirely into Taskmaster. I’m too invested. I knew John had gone in one point ahead of both Steve and Joanne, and I was keeping score in my head throughout the episode, of how far each score led him to extend his lead over both of them. I don’t usually count points as the episode goes along until episodes 9 or 10.

Most tasks I’m less interested in John’s total score and more interested in his score relative to Steve. I realize Joanne is also competitive and a threat to win and I want him to beat her too, but I don’t think she’s as likely to win overall, she’s not as competitive in general and the only reason she’s so close to the top right now is she got a lucky 5-0 that’s not likely to repeat itself. Also, if she wins I’ll be disappointed, but not nearly as disappointed as I’ll be if Steve does.

Anyway, I thought episode 4 was great fun. It does feel a bit more “simmering” than some other Taskmaster seasons – I almost wrote “gentle” but I don’t think that’s quite true, because there seems to be a lot going on. It’s just not all being shouted the way it is in some seasons. I like it, I enjoy the unpredictable mystery of Sophie Willan and the incomprehensible charm of Nick Mohammed and the understated arrogance of Steve Pemberton (in a “fuck this guy but he makes a good villain” way) and the simmering anger of John Robins. Also Joanne McNally is there, cheerfully shouting whatever thoughts occur to her, and they’re almost always funny.

One note I do have to mention in writing a post about Taskmaster s17e04 – if you have a good friend who’s recently quit drinking due to quite a severe and life-ruining alcohol addiction, with rum as his drink of choice for a number of years, you should maybe not trick him into drinking rum on national television even if it’s non-alcoholic? Ed Gamble said on the podcast that he thinks the rest of them got regular rum and only John got special non-alcoholic rum, and I think/hope Ed was wrong about that, because you really shouldn’t trick people into drinking hard liquor at work even if they’re not alcoholics in recovery. Especially since any of those people could have gone all in and drank the whole glove for a laugh. Going out of their way to procure special non-alcoholic rum is a pretty weird thing to do when Ribena has been used on the show before and has to be cheaper/easier to find/avoids the thorny issue of alcohol altogether. I found it funny that they threw pickled onions in there, because anyone who’s listened to John Robins on the radio will know he’s obsessed with pickled onions; I figured Alex added that as a sort of in-joke with his friend, to the point where it’s almost unfair that by being friends with Alex, John gets an item on the task tailored to things he’s most likely to recognize. But Alex will also know that rum was John Robins’ drink of choice for a long time (I mean, I know it, so I'm pretty sure his real-life drinking buddy Alex Horne does), which sort of makes putting rum in the task look like an incredibly twisted and fucked up version of that joke. I'm sure it was just an oversight, but still, pretty big oversight. Even if they didn’t have an alcoholic in the cast, why bring alcohol into it at all when you could just use some other drink that starts with R?

Having said that, does anyone know if non-alcoholic whiskey can replicate the burning sensation of the real thing, or does it just try for the taste? Asking for a friend who's trying to give up whiskey but really misses it and specifically misses its burning qualities and that friend is me. I actually hadn't thought about non-alcoholic hard liquor until Alex mentioned it on the show, I just knew about non-alcoholic beer and wine. I might look into that. But anyway, they probably shouldn't feed it to people who are at work without warning.

[riddle-me-ri]

I just saw requests were opened and I had to come by 🥳 since it is the month of November I would like to ask how are the ozzies handling NNN 👀

A/N: Asdfgh ahhhh well had to get this done before November ends lmao. I thought about this request with my colony the minute it hit my inbox lmao

How the Penguins Handle NNN 

Trigger Warnings: for those that don’t know, NNN is No Nut November, nothing explicit but definitely suggestive in case that makes you uncomfy.

So first things first, I have no idea why but I feel like I ought to say this. But I feel like normally most of the Penguins would fare pretty well. One because they're fueled mostly on loathing and pure spite (which love that for them) and two because they don't have someone to constantly tease them and tip them over the edge and as rough cut as some of these Penguins are they all have their own set of disciplines they stay strong too. 

Basically I have thought about this way too hard and for too long just ignore me.

Also each Pengy has a rating out of 10 for how well they'd do. 

1 being didn't even try, lost back in October and through all of November.

10 being MVP man's has mad discipline but once it hits December 1st pengy will pounce.

Arkhamverse Penguin (7 out of 10): 

This Penguin is fairly preoccupied. Running an underground criminal empire requires a lot of attention. There’s always something going on in Bludhaven. He has to check on imports and exports, keeping track of his henchmen, keeping constant eye out for Batman. 

In fact, you’re so aware of how busy he is, you don’t even find it in you to tease him like you planned. Maybe a lingering touch here and there but nothing to provocative. 

However, it's easy for things to get…frustrating. For him to have a lot of pent up anger and you're the best stress relief before he absolutely explodes. 

"C'mere love, I need you…"

You remind him of the challenge. 

"What? Love, I could care less about some silly challenge. I'm asking you nicely, don't make me get rough with ya.." 

Farrell/Reevesverse Penguin (11 out of 10): 

Now, this Oswald will absolutely rock the shit out of this. 

He sees a challenge and he seeks to overcome it regardless of the stakes. This man has never come up short on any obstacle that’s come his way, what’s a fun little game of who has the weakest resolve? 

He’s also one of the few that would actively be trying to knock you off your game too. He’s a shameless flirt as is, but expect him to notch it up to 100 at this point. 

“Aww, don’t get mad sweetheart…don’t hate the player, hate the game. But you gotta admit the reward will be worth it.” He winked. 

Gotham Penguin (7.5 out of 10): 

I’m not going to lie…I had the hardest time thinking of a rating and scenario for this Oswald, because I feel like…agh

He’ll definitely be a difficult nut to crack (pun…probably intended). I mean he’s known for being the biggest moonlighter of Fish and Maroni, he can be extremely disciplined and determined to see the light at the end of the tunnel to power through the month. 

However, he’s also prone to stress and pressures constantly building up inside of him. He will hold out until about the last week of the month. Something happens, the straw broke the camel’s back and he needs you. 

You are a strong comfort for him, he doesn’t have to be The Penguin, The Mayor, The King of Gotham…none of those things, he can just be Oswald. The way you caress him, hold him, love him…

“I don’t care…the…fun of it is gone...I just really need you, please.”

Yeah, he gets closer than a few of these Oswald’s to winning, but honestly, when he’s got you he’s already won.

BTAS Penguin (10 out of 10):

Ah, the true gentleman. 

This Oswald may struggle a wee bit here and there. Especially with you teasing him, constantly at every turn. Face flushed red, absolutely biting a hole in his lower lip, almost ripping his hair out.

However, mind you this one is a true gentleman first and he can and will continue to show restraint. Any time he wishes to absolutely ravish you, he spoils you instead. He’ll almost make you feel bad for being such a tease, because he flips it and acts so sweet in return.

“Ah, ha, yes I see. As much as the feeling is mutual, there is a greater achievement to be had! But don’t be fooled, dove. I won’t forget your…advances.” 

TNBA Penguin (9.8 out of 10): 

This Penguin isn't much different from BTAS Penguin and Reevesverse Penguin. 

He sees a challenge with you and he accepts it, especially if the reward is you at the end of it. 

Oswald notices you teasing him from time to time. Trying to get him to bend, sometimes he's almost at the breaking point but you pull back. 

He warns you, teasingly so not to keep pushing or he may push back. 

“Thin ice, darling, thin ice…win or lose I always get what I desire.”

Telltale Penguin (7 out of 10): 

This proud prick. 

He’d talk a big game for sure, saying that he’s passed the month before with flying colors. Although, you know why that is…you weren’t there. He was distracted with his plans to take everything away with the Wayne name attached to it…well, not anymore. 

Oz will put up an air-tight resolve for a good few weeks of the month. You haven’t quite laid the flirting down thick, not yet. There’s a method to it. 

A lingering touch on his shoulder, a peck at night on his jaw line around the middle of the month. But then near the end, like the last week; you’ll accidentally forget your change of clothes for after your shower. 

Much like other Penguins, he has his frustrations, but instead of it being outside sources, this is purely pent-up aggravation from not being able to touch you for long periods of time. 

“I gotta say, love. I’m damn near at my breaking point here…not sure if that’s a good or bad thing for you.” Oz growled.

One Bad Day Penguin (10 out of 10): 

Aww, this is cute. He thought.

If you’ve read the comic, you know this man is determined and resilient. But he also knows how to play the game. Whether it’s a turf war or who gives in to their unadulterated desires first…he knows what cards to play and how to play them. 

You best believe he’s an active player too. 

He’ll tease you first, if you don’t. He’s not afraid to make the first move, especially if it means throwing you off. 

Oswald will pull you to his lap. He’ll teasingly squeeze your sides and thighs.

When you look back at him with a certain displeased look. 

He grins and winks. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I play to win, babe.”

The Batman (2004) Penguin (-100 out of 10):

Listen, listen, this little gremlin has little to no self preservation whatsoever. He’s also arguably one of the most unhinged members of my colony.

Ozzy would talk such a big game about being a winner, how he'd sail through this month.

But you literally don't have to do anything and he'd bust.

You don't even have to tease him. You could literally just be wearing shorts one morning or an oversized t-shirt and underwear and he'd pounce. 

He sees what he wants and he gets what he wants.

"What? Ahh come on, who needs to win some stupid challenge? I wanna be with ya!"

Batman Unlimited Penguin (7.5 out of 10): 

The main thing that makes this pengy rank so high is cause of his age. He’s subjectively the oldest out of most of my colony members. (I believe he’s meant to be like late 50’s early 60’s, I could be wrong, but the grey in his hair and wrinkles are telling me otherwise rip)

I genuinely believe you have to initiate most of the intimacy in your relationship. 

Not that Oswald won’t try, but the man literally doesn’t know how to. He’s seen things in film, television, and literature. However he also knows he’s not conventionally as attractive as the leads in those medias, and he’s certain if he attempted anything like he saw, he would find a way to ruin it.

Much like the other pengys, he’s been cruelly shunned by humanity, but he’s lived with it cemented in his brain for longer (considering the age thing, again). To say this man is emotionally stunted would be an understatement. He still isn’t used to you giving him compliments or how you honestly enjoy kissing him. 

However, on the different side of the same coin…do to not being…errm…well practiced. He’s also likely to fall apart soon enough. Giving him enough touches and kisses the man will combust. 

“Hmm…I’ve never felt anything like this in a long time. I don’t think I could ever give it up,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Even just for thirty days.”

#ri writes #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #headcanons #arkhamverse penguin #reevesverse penguin #farrell penguin #gotham penguin #btas penguin #tnba penguin #telltale penguin #one bad day penguin #obd penguin #the batman 2004 penguin #batman unlimited penguin #i definitely thought about this #WAY TOO HARD #rip #ri's colony 🐧

[lediz-watches]

Podcast: Weird Medieval Guys

Another podcast, because it's consumed my brain over the last week.

Weird Medieval Guys started as a Twitter account (go off, Musk), but is now also a bi-weekly podcast starring Olivia (the Twitter creator) and Aran (the historian she bribed with a platform to rant about Constantinople). Every couple of weeks, they gather together on Olivia's living room floor to academically gossip about medieval life, loves, and nonsense.

Because people have always been nonsensical, and that's amazing.

I found it through another podcast that I will one day do a post about (I need to... come to terms with why I love it) called We Can Be Weirdos, in which Olivia came on and caught my attention with her passion for the legal debates people got into about heraldry, and her willingness to admit that medieval people were just as petty and ridiculous as we are now.

Because that's the thing, and which I think this podcast shows so well: people have always just been people.

The world we exist in has evolved. Technology has marched on, our ways of interacting with each other have changed, and we have different values, different things we consider important, but we're still the same, really. We think of the past as this noble and dirty and incorruptible space, but people were making sex jokes and lame puns for a hundred thousand years. We aren't special just because we can blast our lame humour to seven billion people at a time.

But anyway.

Each episode of the podcast takes the form of a loose essay, Aran lecturing Olivia (or occasionally vice versa) on some topic about the medieval period, and don't get me wrong - they are lectures. There are stupid jokes, Aran loves to play different characters, Olivia giggles constantly, and the point of each one is that medieval people were Just Like Us, but Aran is an academic talking about research. Yes, his area of expertise is a later period, but the skills remain.

And to be clear, I am a recovering cultural studies student who until recently has been out of academic life and away from other academics for over a decade. But I suspect this is not a podcast you can walk into without some academic-adjacent background. They discuss articles and a lot of their humour is based in inference and the kind of irony you see in people who debate reality for a living.

But they are also redditors, and Twitter natives, and talk about their subjects as 'based'. Aran loves to call people King and Queen. They bring their subject matter to the now.

The most recent podcast was about medieval Welsh bards, and they read out a rap (flyte) battle between two of them (Olivia's bard totally won, I don't care what you say), and finished on the DIRTIEST poem I have ever heard (seriously, ugh), and it taught me a lot about Wales' history, which I've never really known much about, so thank you for that. But it was great to hear all this poetry and these poets and put them in a context where you can strip back the language and see them for the frustrated, young, often horny, very human people they were. Also I loved the owl poem and must search it out because I grew up next to koala tress and boy, I feel you.

The episode before that was about medieval animals, and while it was fun to hear about hedgehogs and the bestiary, it also contained a beautiful insight into why we use animals as narrative devices. The only downside is that I'm still on the edges of the Hellverse fandom and started analysing furry culture and honestly, no one needs that in their life...

But my FAVOURITE episode so far is part two of their Constantinople episode, where they described the Ottoman leader Mehmed as so... painfully human. Even as his soldiers ransacked a once-glorious city and he chased a mad dream, he was just so lost and passionate and terrible and... Aran described him so beautifully, I was just swept up in the story.

So yes. Although there are a few hiccups along the way (please please please go back and fix the episodes with the overlapping voice tracks it hurt my ears so bad), if you have even a passing interest in history or culture or what makes humans human, check out this podcast.

Because we're just people. We've always just been people. And that's amazing.

#podcast #weird medieval guys #historical academics #people as people #we're just innocent men #that's unrelated unless you think about it too hard #seriously though aran's obsession with constantinople gives me life #I didn't catch the potato joke but I get it #you're dorks and I love you

[justonemorechapternicercy]

For the eurovision promps can you do "having totally different music styles, but completely vibing together" with percy/Reyna??

Hiii! Thank you for the prompt!

The bouncy pop music was nothing people expected of Percy Jackson when they first looked at him, but Reyna had to admit, even if Eurovision pop tended to grate on her nerves, the song was kinda catchy. She actually found herself nodding along the beat to her bandmates' surprise.

"What?! He is good," she shrugged, defending herself when she noticed the judging looks.

"It's pop music. About how you can ride the waves that threaten to crash over your life. Sung by a preppy boy with blue highlights. Do you have a fever?!" Thalia questioned in a high-pitched voice. Reyna had to admit that if it was anybody other than Percy up there, she would think the same, but the boy was really good, had a lovely, comforting voice, and was actually a really kind and funny guy. They met before the start of the semi-finals and even though she wanted to resent the Greek guy, she couldn't. Not after he told that god-awful pun with the fish. How was it?

Oh, right.

"What do you think will happen in the fin-ale? I think it won't be half bass-ed."

He still cringed about it, but she had to bite into her lips so she wouldn't smile. It was already bad enough if the cameras caught her little nodding. A smile could ruin their reputation for being the angry feminist stereotypes. The Italians already won once with a rock band, now it was time for another win, and Artemis was convinced they had to distinguish themselves from Måneskin, and while the previous winners were the funk-rock, very alternative type of guys, they had to be the complete opposite. Eurovision tended to reuse the previous motifs, thinking that if it won the last time, it might win that time as well, but the Amazons knew it better. The more different you are from others, the more likely you will be remembered.

And Reyna remembered Percy, the very different guy, all right. She restrained herself from cheering for Percy when his song ended, but she could barely hold back the blush creeping up on her neck when she caught Percy's eyes and the boy winked at her.

She had to roll her eyes at him, and while others might have assumed she was annoyed at the flirting, he grinned mischievously, knowing it was fake.

That dam charmer.

She liked him way too much.

Send me a Euriovision prompt!

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #percy x reyna #pjo #pjo ficlet #eurovision prompts

[mlm-writer]

Dig It in There, Mr Spock (Ella Lopez x M!Reader)

Pairing: Ella Lopez x Male Reader (trans-friendly) Rating: Mature Words: 835 POV: Second Summary: Ella and you are cosplaying as Kirk and Spock and uhhh you two ship Spirk. Note: For the prompt ‘cosplay’.  See my kinktober 2022 masterlist here.  It is vaguely suggested that reader has a penis, but could just as well refer to a strap or whatever. WARNING: bad Star Trek puns, most of them a courtesy of this song Tags: attempted sex, wholesomeness in Kinktober? it is more likely than you think, trekkie things, very suggestive, does this count as a song fic?, and mild injury (you’re gonna be fine)

You posed in the doorway, until your girlfriend noticed you were standing there. Until then, you watched her check herself out in the mirror, scrutinising every detail of her cosplay. It was redundant, really. One look and you could tell she looked like the sexiest female Kirk to ever exist. When she finally saw you, she jumped in surprise. Her eyes went wide as saucers and her smile lit up the whole bedroom. “Oh my gooood,” she squealed, before putting her hands on you. She felt up the fabric and squeezed your muscles underneath. “Wow Mr Spock, you are hot or should I say… stunning?” 

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at her. The original Star Trek uniform was frankly just a colourful shirt with a logo on it, black pants and heeled boots. However, it worked and you had to admit, you also felt kind of sexy in it, especially with the hungry look in Ella’s eyes. The fact that you had not put on the wig and ears yet may have helped. You put your hands on her sides, just above where her yellow dress fanned out. “You look like you want me to send a multiphasic torpedo to penetrate your rift, captain.” 

Ella bursted out into laughter. You could not keep a straight face for long, her laugh too contagious to keep your own in check. Ella leaned against you as she laughed her ass off. “Oh number one, aren’t you a charmer?” She joked back, before dragging you further into her bedroom. “I would love it if you explored my Jeffrey’s tube.” You almost fell over laughing. 

“This is why I have been and always shall be your boyfriend; we’re both awful,” you giggled, while Ella pulled you in, until her bum hit the dresser. 

“Shhh, number one, no one should know we’re breaking the frat regs,” she whispered while she sensually touched your lips with her finger. You smirked and slid your hands lower, before lifting Ella on top of the dresser. It was permanently empty for this very purpose. 

Before another bad line could come out of her, you kissed her. She hummed into the kiss, arms wrapping around your neck. You rubbed her thighs, feeling her warm skin up. “Permission to lower your shields?” You grinned against her lips with your fingers hooked around her panties. Ella almost fell off the dresser laughing. She held onto your arms, giggling like a schoolgirl and nodding. With her help, you managed to get her panties off her. Ella pulled you back against her lips, kissing you eagerly, while your hands felt underneath her uniform. “Let me give you all I’ve got. Spread your nacelles,” you hummed against her lips. 

She stopped abruptly with kissing you. “Excuse me, what?” You repeated what you said, slower this time. “What are nacelles?” You sighed, knowing you killed the mood and Ella’s curiosity always won over her sex drive. 

“Nacelles are like the engines you see on the bottom of a plane’s wings. The Enterprise has also two. Kind of looks like legs to me.” “Oh those! They look like arms to me.” “Well, do you wanna spread your arms or legs?” 

Ella, being the know-it-all, spread her arms, so you grabbed her below the arms and swung around to toss her onto the bed. She chuckled. “You’re a Vulcan in the streets and a Klingon in the sheets, huh?” You rolled your eyes and took your boots off, before joining her on the bed. “Yes, come here and get lost in my delta quadrant,” she added for good measure.

You ran your hands up her legs and pushed her skirt up. “All right, all right, I will boldly go where no man has gone before, but first let me lick your warpcore manifold,” you said half-laughing as you kissed up her thigh. Ella could not stop laughing, so much that she stopped you from doing anything, until she could at least breathe. It was not like you could actually do anything, while cracking up and gasping for air yourself. 

“Lick… lick a…” She could hardly form words. “Lick a quantum sin… singularity in my… my transwarp conduit.” After getting the joke out, she accidentally hit you in the head with her knee, hard enough that you lost your balance and rolled right off the bed. “Oh my god! Are you ok?” 

You lied on the floor next to the bed, still giggling and rubbing the side of your head. When you looked up, you saw Ella hanging over you, body still a little shaking from laughter, but she was looking worried as well. You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, but I think it would be highly illogical to dig it in there right now.” 

Ella chuckled and shook her head. “All right, Mr Spock. Let’s wait until pon farr, before I let you beam into my cavern.” You scoffed and let her pull you off the floor and into her arms for another kiss. 

#lucifer #Ella Lopez #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #male reader #ella lopez x reader #ella lopez x male reader #lucifer x male reader #lucifer x reader

[twotwinks]

Mitsurugi and Naruhodou

YAY THE BOYS

Mitsurugi

Sexuality headcanon: he's so aroace it's UNREAL he's romance favorable and sex repulsed but most people are not brave enough to see it

Gender headcanon: cis man but i have positive feelings towards the trans man headcanons people have

A ship I have with said character: while i started out only partial to qpr narumitsu i'm fully on board for narumitsunoko now. i love every possible permutation and get-together order there is.....as long as it's still qpr-flavor anyway dkjhfdk

A brotp I have with said character: MAYOI. they are the friends ever and i think we should get to see them casually hang out more often in official media. they need to have tonosaman watch parties together

A notp I have with said character: any romantic pairing ever sorry not sorry

A random headcanon: this is silly and based on absolutely nothing but. terrible cook. he always follows recipes to the letter. it never turns out. he is endlessly distressed by this.

General opinion over said character: man i knew he'd probably win my heart even though i really didn't like him in the first case, i just wasn't really expecting it to be this thorough of a victory for him. the minute they gave him trauma i knew it was over for me. i really love how willing he is to grow and change once he realizes what's happened to him, and how much he wants others to have that opportunity too. i'm also really fond of how he too is a silly little guy despite the Everything, and that he was weird even before the trauma, instead of being weird because of the trauma.

Naruhodou

Sexuality headcanon: disaster bi. everyone is too Pretty

Gender headcanon: same as mitsurugi. cis man, but i have no objections (pun intended) to trans man naruhodou either

A ship I have with said character: again, same as mitsurugi sdkdkjs. qpr narumitsu is my original home but now i'm fond of narumitsunoko especially. our specific take on the trio simply cannot be beat.

A brotp I have with said character: mei! i really loved when they were investigating together in bridge to the turnabout and i think they should do stuff like that more often. mei's hard-won begrudging respect for him and his pseudo-fearful respect for her is so fun to see play out. i want to put them in a room together and watch the shenanigans unfold.

A notp I have with said character: ayame. it's just....no. regardless of any lingering feelings, i don't think it could ever work. naruhodou has changed too much, and ayame hurt him a lot, even if he's not willing to admit it. even if her love for him was genuine, she did still lie to and manipulate him for eight whole months, and that's not something that can just be fixed so easily, especially when naruhodou's feelings for her were essentially just puppy love. i dunno, maybe i'm too aro for it, but it just really bothers me. i don't even really care for their interactions at the end of bridge to the turnabout after the Reveal. stop that naruhodou!

A random headcanon: he can fall asleep literally anywhere. he does not take advantage of this power. he is constantly running on the minimum sleep required to function.

General opinion over said character: soggy wet pathetic man who just keeps getting into situations and doesn't understand how. his distressed sprite is one of my favorites i giggle every time it happens. i think he should just keep being a disaster forever it's great actually

#mt answers #you know. i think i WILL tag this. at least for my own purposes dkjdkj #mitsurugi reiji #naruhodou ryuuichi #gyakuten saiban #badgerhuan #roch

[giggly-squiggily]

Eyyo!!! I saw your event and thought it looked really neat, so I decided to send something in! No pressure to do it or anything tho!^^ I have a hc that sometimes when they think Tsukishima is being an especially sassy stick in the mud, or they're just feeling particularly mischievous, Noya and Tanaka will use tickling as a way to cheat and make him laugh at their dumb jokes, so maybe you could do something with that? I hope your day is going well btw!^^ 💖

~~Send Me A Headcanon and I’ll write a dabble for it! ~~

Hey friend! This headcanon was absolutely precious, and it gives me the chance to break out some silly jokes! I've gotcha covered! I hope you're doing well aswell!

“Hey, Tsukishima!”

“Tsukishima, look at us!”

“Tsukishima!”

Said man’s brow twitched, and he let out a sigh of frustration at the two idiots yelling for his attention. Earlier he caught a sneak peek of their “act”, the pair hitting Hinata and Kageyama with relentless puns and jokes until the redhead was in tears and the setter was nearly on the ground.

He had no idea what made them laugh so hard- the jokes weren’t even that funny.

“Tsukishima!”

“Look over here!”

“Blonde boy!”

“Vanilla wafer!”

“Glasses!”

“Titan boy!”

“Dino Nugget King!”

“Oh my god WHAT?” Tsukishima finally snapped, turning around to glare-

“GAH!” He squawked upon seeing them within inches of his own face. “Good grief, what do you two want?”

“Someone’s grumpy today!” Tanaka shared a grin with Noya, the pair quickly taking their spots beside the irritated middle blocker. “Shall we tell him our best jokes?”

“But of course! Ready to laugh, Tsukki?”

“If by laugh you mean develop a migraine, then no.” He tried to walk away, but he was quickly intercepted by wiggling fingers. “Gh- No! Stop it!”

“Not until you laugh at our jokes! Ready?” Tanaka grinned. “What do you call someone who confesses to an imposter?”

“T-Tanaka!”

“A telephony!”

“Shut up-”

“How do you make an octopus laugh?”

“I don’t cahhare-”

“Ten-tickles!”

Tsukishima wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He could feel the traitorous giggles climbing up his throat, threatening to explode past his thin-pressed lips. The jokes didn’t help; somehow the tickling made them even funnier. It wasn’t long before soft huffs of laughter started pushing past his lips.

“Oh, he’s starting to crack!” Noya cheered, going for the kill as he brought his hands to Tsukishima’s stomach. “Come on, you know you want to laugh!”

“Yeah! Come on Tsukki- admit it’s funny!” Tanaka cheered, catching the other’s wrists and pulling them up and out of the way, giving the smallest member even more spots to tickle.

“Sh-Pfft ahehahahahhahahaha! Coohohoohme ooohohohohon! Dohohohohohn’t!” The giggles won out. Soon he was laughing just as much as the others, their relentless jokes coming at him with each new spot they tickled.

In the end, Tsukishima laughed at every joke- though admittedly it was hard to tell which ones he genuinely found funny.

#headcanons to dabbles #haikyuu!! #tsukishima kei #tanaka ryousei #nishinoya yuu #tickle #tickle dabble #fluff #endings are hard akljrekeakjrkjae #But I hope you like it! :D #friend :3

[howly]

15, 19, 20 📚

15. recommend and review a book.

i recently read "tornado weather" by deborah e. kennedy and i didn't expect much from it but it blew me away (pun intended). the story is about the disappearance of a young girl in a small town, and each chapter shows the POV of a different citizen, what they know about the girl, what they know about each other's drama, and how all of that is intertwined. it's presented as a portrait of US society with an emphasis on the lower middle class, and i admit that at times the commentary was way too in-your-face, but i personally didn't have a problem with that.

it's a mystery with a very, very big cast of characters (30+ in under 400 pages) - which are two things i generally avoid and don't care about, but here it was done so well. what won me over is that it read much more like litfic than mystery/criminal fiction, and i found the countless connections between the characters absolutely fascinating, though it was a bit energy-consuming to keep up. i personally recommend reading it digitally, or at least having a digital copy at hand to look up names because secondary characters that were briefly mentioned in the previous chapter turn out to be important later and it just makes you go

one word i would use to describe the ending is "unusual" and i could see why people would hate it, but me? i was ready to be disappointed, yet it had me in tears.

19. most disliked popular books?

ohhh i have a couple of hot takes on this. i feel like everyone and their mom loves "the house in the cerulean sea" by t.j. klune but i was so underwhelmed by it. i wouldn't say i actively dislike it, and think that some of the characters were fun, but its "wholesome, warm hug, ultimate comfort" magic really didn't work on me.

a popular book that i actively dislike though, is "the picture of dorian grey" by oscar wilde. i put off reading it for years because i expected to absolutely adore it but oh boy was it a torture. i guess the girls who get it, get it, and i am from the girls who really don't. i just thought it was a smartass line after a smartass line for 300 pages, and i was already tired on page 15. i hate lord henry wotton with a burning passion and wish he could just shut up. i have yet to meet someone who shares my opinion, and i even went ahead and read analyses on the novel in hopes i could at least understand why it's so universally loved, but no amount of articles and studies could make me see it.

20. what are things you look for in a book?

lately, i just look for absurd humour and intriguing characters with slightly insane traits making questionable decisions (hence my love for edward cullen and frances from "conversations with friends").

#thanks for the ask! #this got long winded i'm sorry #tornado weather #deborah e kennedy #when i said i like talking about books A LOT i meant it #asks

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link to ao3

Chapter 26

Nick kept his distance from Morrie, supposedly unsure about his intentions. Morrie hoped that being calm and patient would be enough to melt the ice. “What direction would you like to go this time?”, he asked with a smile. Nick only shrugged, barely looking anywhere. “Where's the next currant bush?” “Ah, right...”, Morrie answered, careful not to sound amused. He indeed wasn't feeling like making fun of him. They then began their search for a bush. Morrie had an idea where they would be successful. One of the many wonders around these berries was, that they tended to grow back after some time. If one remembered a spot, they'd have a renewable storage. Since Morrie turned out to be right, he could watch Nick wolfing down handfuls of berries and he silently grinned to himself while doing so.

His feelings puzzled him. He must've been crazy, grinning like an idiot after he had been mad at Nick just a few minutes ago. He had wanted to make Nick feel the pain he had felt. Show him that he wouldn't bow to him again. And now that everything had turned out so well, he was happy. He was happy to have Nick back, to have his trust again. He hadn't liked how he sat outside, possibly putting himself in danger or doing something stupid. He wanted him save. Perhaps it was his pride, he mused. Yes, he simply wanted to be a good teacher. Everything good that happened proved that he did the right thing, so he told himself and he allowed himself to grin again.

Nick noticed him. “What's so funny?” Promptly Morrie's smile fell he busied himself to look casual. “Er, nothing. Really, nothing this time. Don't worry.” “Hmm...If it's a good joke I'd love to hear it”, Nick said playfully. “Er...no, not a joke.” He snatched a leave from the grass and folded it nervously, needing a distraction. Nick didn't stop looking at him. “Do you know any jokes?” Morrie pondered. “What's a Downer at the bottom of the sea?” “Not that one. A real joke.” Morrie eyed the grass. “I'm not good at this.” He added: “What's a Wellie at the bottom of the sea?” Nick snorted. “I don't know.” “I don't either. Probably some idiot thinking they're having a good time.” “While drowning?” “Sure. They're not a Downer, they always have a good time.” Morrie thought this was too dark for this happy moment. Did he ruin it?

“You know what he is?”, Nick said now. “What?” Nick grinned. “A Drowner.” Morrie slapped his forehead while Nick laughed out loud. “That hurts.” Nick said chuckling: “You shouldn't slap yourself so hard then.” “Not that, the pun!”, Morrie complained even though he found it funny. “It's funnier than yours”, Nick teased. “Ah, I didn't really try.” ”Admit it, I won this round.” Morrie found his smile back. “Yes, you did.”

Nick happily munched more berries and the Wastrel eat a few too. When his glance fell back at his companion, he commented: “I should call you bluebeard.” Nick looked up, startled. “Why?” A gesture told the rockstar that he had smeared the currant juice all over his face again. “Hey, it's not my fault I need to eat these!” “Still, the name is fitting.” “Noo!” Nick wiped his cheeks, only making more of a mess. Then something else shocked him. “Oh, no.” He palpated his outgrowing moustache. With an embarrassed expression, he asked: “You don't happen to have a razor somewhere?” “Only my knife.” “Uh...Could I borrow it when we're back? I really don't like this.” “Everyone looks like this.” “But I don't wanna look like everyone! I wanna look like me!” Morrie also liked Nick's usual appearance, so he said: “Fine, I give you a chance. But I'll guide you, so you won't cut yourself into pieces.” Nick made an unsure noise. “I'll do my best.”

“It's a shame we didn't find a useful knife in that house. Someone must've scavenged it already”, Morrie thought out loud. “A razor would've been nice, too.” “Yeah.” “I'm afraid we'll have investigate another one of these one day. We still need supplies.” Nick's face fell. “Not now, of course. Another day.” “Okay. Rather one without creepy music, if that's possible.” The other man snorted. “We'll see.” Nick now leaned back against a rock. He seemed to be sated and thinking about something. “Morrie, can we visit the village one day?” Morrie sighed. He didn't like that place. But was it a good idea to keep Nick away from other people? He needed to learn how to act around them. He might need them anyway later, when he would leave. “What do you hope to find there?” “Nothing, I just...I didn't care to look at it when we went through after the...You know...And I...I wanna see it for myself.”

Morrie pondered. In bright daylight, and with Nick in rags, what could even happen? He'd make sure they wouldn't stumble into Headboy territory. These fuckers invaded new places without warning. “Okay. When you're ready. It's a long walk after all.” “I am ready. I feel better every day.” “So you mean, tomorrow?” “Sure.” Morrie pondered more. Did he trust Nick enough to go there again? Well, until now, the rockstar had never tried anything stupid. He wouldn't go astray. A few warnings beforehand would suffice. “Okay, then. If you feel good enough tomorrow. We'd have to get up early again and then we'll see if you even get your eyes open.” Nick mumbled a few protests but in the end, he understood. Still, Morrie mentally prepared himself for a trip because he would happen eventually.

Back home, Morrie helped Nick, gladly cutting some of the blue hairs away and making him look more like his old, pretty self.

For no particular reason of course.

He didn't notice how Nick's heart fluttered when Morrie stood close behind him. When he brought his hand near to his skin to show him how to hold the knife. He didn't notice that Nick barely heard his explanations. Nick found it merely impossible to shave himself without a mirror, but he liked how Morrie checked on him and confirmed that he was looking good.

They had tea together since Nick had missed it the first time and the rockstar managed not to make the tall man angry or get on his nerves. He even smiled. Nick loved it when Morrie smiled. All the time, Nick racked his brains trying to find out who this man was. It was at the tip of his tongue, his stomach tickled so much he could barely get the hot drink down.

He went to bed early, lying about being tired. He wasn't tired at all. He was too nervous to shut his eyes. But he needed some time alone to think. He rolled to the side and lay awake until night fell. Through the window, he noticed an odd glow from outside, but he didn't care to observe it. From his position, he didn't see what was outside, except for a tiny glimpse of a starry sky. His mind was occupied with the mysterious Wastrel. He knew that name.

Morrie Memento.

The answer was so close. Somewhere in his crowded mind full of images, full of faces he once knew and then forgot. People came and went in his life and he had paid less and less attention to them. Then Joy had made him forget them all. Before his breakdown, his glorious past had been nothing but a foggy mess in his head. Even his present had consisted of endless days full of nothing. Hanging around in his empty shell of a home, a never ending circle of highs and depressions. A prisoner of his own mind. What had made him even leave the house? Right, he noticed he had run out of Joy. He had gone outside for a mood booth. The irony made him chuckle, his lungs painfully cramping. Had he been less of a good citizen, he'd still be there. Withering away.

He gasped, forcing his lungs to open. He had been done for. His band gone, his manager fired, his fans outraged and fighting a divorce case that would taken even more of him if he lost. He left all of this behind him. For the first time, he saw his new life as a second chance. He still wished to go back home and make everything better, to show his fans that he still was their Golden God. But actually, his fate had brought him here and saved his life. And he had found this...this man, who was connected to him.

Again, he tried to remember, listing all the possible options. That intense glare out of brown eyes...it caused a tingle in the back of his head, but something was still off. Morrie couldn't be one of his latest band members, because no one of them had dared to glare at him like that. But then again, the only ones he remembered looking at him like that were his first band members, his childhood friends that he had abandoned and Morrie wasn't one of them either. As foggy as his mind was, he'd recognize their faces. So what made him special?

He was special, no doubt. He knew these eyes, even though they belonged to a madman now. A rough madman with a beautiful body. And the sweetest smile... Yeah, the smile... The tingle grew stronger. He was on the right path. Didn't he hold that face in his hands once? Didn't he taste that skin? Nick gasped again. Memories washed over him, awakening a desire, a heat that made him clutch the bed in sudden agitation. The glimpse of an unfulfilled dream, then betrayal and anger. His heart pounded. No, no, not him!

He sat up, panting and hugging himself. That had been so long ago! A young man, eager to prove himself. A skinny, innocent little thing. His jumpiness had been charming. His talent promising. What a fairy tale! The innocent freshman, who would see him as he really was, who would accept the real Nick and give him true, selfless love. Nick's heart ached now. No wonder that Joy had deleted this painful memory first. In truth, Morrie had used him just like the others. He had seen all his mistakes and weaknesses and decided to crush Nick instead of helping him. It was a tough business, Nick knew that better than anyone else. Survival of the fittest and all that shit. And the 'fittest' from Nick had been to fire him. Oh, how the man had struggled afterwards.

He had just vanished, right? Nick didn't remember a famous musician called Morrie Memento. He now felt pity for him. Such a talented man. And he pitied himself. Wouldn't have hurt to surrender, to be twisted around that man's little finger. His glorious days had been over anyway. They would've had a few more beautiful moments together. Perhaps Morrie would've had mercy and kept him around. Morrie would've been a different kind of god, but a very thrilling one. A challenge maybe.

Nick regretted that he hadn't accepted the challenge. It could've made him stronger and he could've earned Morrie's respect. His love. Another fairy tale right there. He felt twisted. He wasn't the type to surrender his entire being to a man who didn't love him back. To give up all his pride. But considering his fate, his inevitable downfall, it could've been the better choice. All he had wanted was Morrie's love.

He didn't even fight for it, though. He had been so weak. Firing him had been his only option. Desperate, but it had been his only chance for survival back then. Morrie would've crushed him. And now he was back? Was he really the same man? Nick pressed his eyes shut. There hadn't been another Morrie in his life, so it must be him. How very ironic, to end up back in his hands. To be at his mercy again.

He wondered if Morrie remembered everything they did. What he made him do. From this new perspective, Morrie didn't seem to be so rough at all. His revenge could be way worse. For now, the Wastrel really tried to teach him something. He surely didn't like him around, but he was trying his best to act sensibly. He was scary sometimes, but...that might just be him being a Wastrel. After all, he was nice sometimes too. He comforted him, made him feel better when the truth was too much to handle.

Did he overcome their past? Did he accept his defeat? If not, he might still be dangerous.

Nick knew he could run away. He knew the way to the village. He could run away and ask for help there. But firstly, would they even help him? And secondly, he didn't want to run. He had been given this chance and he wanted to make the best out of it. Perhaps they both were wiser now. Perhaps this was their chance to make it better. Nick settled down with this thought. He'd show Morrie that he was worth keeping around. That he wasn't a selfish idiot. He'd get up early and be his best self. With that thought, he closed his eyes.

#you always meet twice #we happy few #nick lightbearer #morrie memento #nickxmorrie #nick x morrie #the garden district #gardendistrict #garden district #wehappyfew #whf #whf nick #whfnick #nicklightbearer #morriememento

[dudemanauthor]

Yang's Big Gap Year

Author's Note: Here's the hefty part 5 I mentioned in my last post. That's all for the 2020 writing challenge. Once I get through a year's worth of old posts, you'll see the one I did in 2021. Didn't do one in 2022 though, was way too busy for that.

Winter:

Yang was always a sucker for a pun, even if it was a little weak, so of course she had to stop at an ice cream place called ‘Neo’s Politan’. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of winter, the pun, her sweet tooth, and a desire to duck in somewhere a little warmer than it was outside won out. She pulled her motorbike in and her helmet off, shaking her long blonde hair out before stepping inside. A little bell rang, getting the attention of a young woman at the counter. Clearly the woman was playing into the theme, with her pink and brown hair and her white jacket. Yang strode up to the counter and took a seat, setting her helmet on the bench.

“Hey, don’t suppose you’re Neo, are ya?” Yang asked cheerily. The multicoloured woman nodded and tapped a sign on the counter with her black gloved finger. Yang leant over to read it.

Hi, I’m Neo

I’m mute, but I can communicate with Valean Sign Language or Text-to-Speech

Let me know what works for you

“Valean Sign Language, huh? I’d always meant to learn that some time. Gonna need the text-to-speech though,” Yang answered. Neo tapped out a message for her scroll to read out.

“What would you like to have?” the robotic voice read out. Yang craned her neck up to read the menu, putting a lot of thought into it.

“Hmm... I think... Eh, screw it, go for the Mega Sundae, and toss all the extras on,” Yang said confidently. Neo nodded and got to making it. Neo was surprisingly quick, putting together the mountain of ice cream in no time, with the sprinkles, chocolate chips, chocolate and strawberry sauces and the whipped cream going on top just as quick. “Man, this time last year, I’d never think of getting something like this, but it’s my gap year, so screw it,” Yang admitted, before taking her spoon and digging in. Neo watched the beautiful blonde stuff her face full of ice cream, not really having anything better to do. Yang ate with surprising speed, making Neo smile with delight that her ice cream was good enough to power through like this. About half way through the ice cream, Yang unzipped her dark brown leather jacket, showing her orange t-shirt underneath, which was starting to show a tiny hint of snugness around a slightly rounded belly. Then, Yang was back at it, motoring through her ice cream. Neo covered her mouth with her hand to hide her biting her lip, as she was definitely liking what she was seeing. After that, Yang was soon done with her monster of a sundae, and now she was just scraping at the bottom of the bowl for the last little dregs of ice cream and sauce.

“Impressive,” said the robot voice from Neo’s Scroll. Yang looked up to see Neo smirking.

“Psh, if you think I’m a quick eater, you should see my sister. She might be the only person I know who eats quicker than me,” Yang said as she patted her belly. “Still, with ice cream that good, I don’t know how you’re meant to eat it slow. I gotta remember to swing by here whenever I’m nearby. I’m doing some travelling this year, so I should be swinging by every once in a while.”

“An appetite like yours is always welcome,” Neo’s scroll read out, with Neo putting on a playful smile.

“Say, I think I’m gonna try to learn VSL for next time I’m here,” Yang mentioned. “Don’t suppose you could teach me how to sign ‘cute store owner’, could you?” she teased. Neo rolled her eyes, before beginning to sign it out. Yang did her best to follow along, and it took a few goes before she felt like she was getting it.

“You know you don't need sign language to talk to me, right?'', Neo's Scroll said.

“Yeah, I know,” Yang agreed, before hopping off her seat with a groan. “Welp, better get back on the road,” she added, before grabbing her helmet. “I’ll see you around, Neo.” And with that, Yang was out the door, cradling her full belly as she put her helmet back on, cramming her long hair inside, and doing up her jacket.

As Neo watched Yang leave, she hoped that she would indeed end up seeing more of Yang, in more than one way.

---

Spring:

The trees behind Neo’s little ice cream place looked much nicer with the flowers blossoming, Yang thought as she pulled up into the parking lot. No wonder this route was considered the scenic route. Sure, it would have been quicker to go another way, but that highway would’ve been busier, not looked as nice, and there wouldn’t have been a nice ice cream place like this on the side of the road.

As Yang hopped off her bike, she loosened her belt in preparation for the vast quantity of ice cream she was planning on putting inside her. The belt was already plenty looser than she used to wear it, as the last few months had helped her fill out her jeans more. In fact, it took loosening the belt for Yang’s muffin top to go away. Yang’s bra also felt a little snugger than she would like, but it wasn’t like that was going to be an issue right now.

Yang sauntered into the store, waiting until the bell rang and she caught Neo’s attention before signing to her.

“Hello cute store owner.” Reading Yang’s somewhat clumsy signing, Neo couldn’t help but smile.

“Flatterer,” Neo signed back as Yang took her helmet off and sat down at the bench.

“Uh, sorry, I don’t know that sign,” Yang said sheepishly. “I’m still pretty new at this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Neo’s Scroll said, before Neo typed out another message. “What would you like?”

“I mean, I gotta go for the Mega Sundae again,” Yang said, as if it was obvious. “Although, this time I think I’m gonna have two of them.” Neo’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“Are you serious?” Neo’s Scroll said, not capturing Neo’s incredulousness quite as well as her face did.

“Yep, two,” Yang said confidently.

“Why two?” Neo’s Scroll queried. Yang paused for a moment, before answering as Neo got to work making Yang’s sundaes.

“Eh, I doubt you’re gonna tell anyone. I’m doing it because I’m letting myself go this year,” Yang revealed. “All through high school I’d been on a bunch of sports teams and I was always the hot, buff one, and... well... I wanted to try something different. So, I’m not bothering with working out, I’m eating as much as I want and whatever I want, and it’s great. I’ll probably need to size up a few times before this year’s up, but, eh, I’m good for it.”

As Neo absorbed this information, she began to find her mind wandering, wandering to images of a much larger, fatter Yang, barely contained and covered by her clothes, waddling into her store wanting a literal mountain of ice cream. Needless to say, Neo very much liked that mental image, but she was reluctant to mention any of that to Yang, for fear of making this staff/patron relationship too weird and losing a cute customer. So, Neo just nodded as she served up Yang’s first sundae.

“Ooh, yum, thanks Neo!” Yang cheered before grabbing her spoon and digging in. It may have been a case of wishful thinking, but Neo could’ve sworn that Yang was even more enthusiastic about this ice cream, and was eating it even faster. Watching Yang power through her sundae was, honestly, distracting. She almost forgot about the second sundae she was meant to be making for Yang. Fortunately, the sheer size of the sundae Yang was ploughing through gave Neo enough time to refocus and finish making the second sundae. She was glad that Yang was the only one here, as she could only imagine what anyone watching this situation would think. She just hoped that Yang wasn’t catching on to what Neo was thinking.

She slid the second sundae Yang’s way just as Yang finished her first. Yang let out a long breath as she rubbed her belly, making meaty thuds as she patted the taut mass. Then, after that quick breather, Yang was back at it. Neo had never seen anything like this in person before. She was in love, and she knew it. She only hoped that Yang enjoyed this enough to try and do it some more.

A few minutes later, Yang’s second bowl was empty. Yang raised her arms in triumph, making her top ride up and reveal her bloated belly, before letting out what felt like a room-shaking belch.

“Oof, that was a lot of ice cream,” Yang groaned as she rubbed her aching belly. Neo was lucky she was mute, as she didn’t have to worry about anything embarrassing slipping from her mouth. If she could speak, she was certain a ‘wow’ would have snuck out. “Man, I wonder if I can do three next time,” Yang idly wondered, getting Neo’s mind racing. The pair chatted for a little while Yang’s stomach settled, before Yang hauled herself off of her seat and back onto her bike, off onto the open road, leaving Neo to fantasise about what Yang would look like next time she was here.

---

Summer:

One of the few downsides to her bike, Yang realised, was travelling in the rain. Water streaked across her helmet visor and she felt her clothes getting soaked. At least it was summer, so it was a warmer rain, and at least it was late, so no one could see her in such a state. Her bike was motoring down the road, hoping to find something open so she could hide from the rain for a bit, when she saw a familiar site. It was Neo’s Politan, and the site had Yang’s mouth watering already. She pulled in, getting her bike in under the awning and shook herself dry. She noticed her chubby body wobbling as she shook herself, making Yang bite her lip with excitement. It was a good thing she had her helmet on still, as she was worried about how much of a mess she would look in front of Neo. Once she took a breath to relax herself, she slipped her helmet off, shook her hair out and strode into the parlour, trying to look cool as anything.

“Hey Neo. Man, I’m glad I was passing by. It’s so wet outside,” Yang complained as she took a seat by the counter.

“Hello. Could you help me?” Neo signed for Yang, trying to keep her signs as clear as possible.

“Assuming that means what I think it means, yeah, I can totally help. What’s up?”

“I need to empty this and clean it. Can you eat the ice cream from it?” Neo asked. Yang’s eyes widened, unable to hide her excitement.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure, totally. Want me to just, like, chug it straight from the tap or what?” Yang asked, very much hoping for a yes, but definitely not expecting one. Neo very enthusiastically nodded, before opening the hatch to let Yang behind the counter. It took Yang a moment to process what she and Neo agreed to, but before long she undid her jacket and tossed it on the counter, before coming around. Without her jacket on, Neo could see that Yang’s tank top was starting to ride up, giving her a tantalising glimpse of Yang’s softened midriff. Oh, Neo was going to enjoy this, but little did she know that Yang was going to enjoy it just as much, and little did Yang know how much Neo was going to enjoy this. The two young women were so caught up in how they felt about it, and how much they didn’t want the other to find out, that they were too inside their own heads to pick up on any of the subtle or less-than-subtle clues the two of them were giving out. Neo attached one end of a tube to the soft-serve machine’s nozzle and handed the other to Yang. “Ooh, chugging from a tube, classy,” Yang said sarcastically. Neo let out a silent chuckle as Yang brought the tube to her mouth.

“Are you ready?” Neo signed. Yang nodded, and with that, Neo turned on the machine. It was coming quicker than she was prepared for, but she managed to keep up with the flowing ice cream. She chugged and chugged and chugged, silently thanking whichever parent she inherited her near bottomless stomach for ice cream from. The ice cream filled her stomach, making it grow larger and larger by the second, even with all of the padding Yang was already carrying. Before long, the machine was pumping out the last few drops, so Yang signalled for Neo to turn it off, which Neo did. Yang slowly stood upright, letting Neo get a very good look at a very impressive sight. Yang’s belly looked like she had swallowed a basketball whole, shoving her tank top up and popping her jeans button open. Neo did her best to not be outrageously and openly horny in front of Yang, but gods, she loved what she was seeing.

“Oof, that was a lot of ice cream. I look like you knocked me up, but it’s just a hell of an ice cream baby,” Yang groaned, rubbing her taut, aching belly as she spoke. Neo was trembling slightly at the sight. “But man, I really gotta get some sleep now.” Neo immediately offered Yang her bed while she stayed up and cleaned out the soft serve machine. Yang was more than happy to take her up on that offer and made herself comfortable on Neo’s bed in the back rooms, which was larger than Yang expected. As soon as Neo was gone, Yang let down what little was left of her cool, confident facade as she lay on the bed, groping her ball of a belly with no restraint.

‘Oh, gods, what’s getting into me? I’ve never been this horny in my life, and it’s over stuffing myself silly with ice cream? I gotta figure this out,’ she thought to herself, before having a very pleasurable night.

The next morning, she snuck out quickly and quietly after leaving a note on the front counter promising to be back.

---

Autumn:

As Yang opened the door, letting herself in, Neo was once again stunned by the sight of the increasingly big and beautiful Yang. Every step made Yang jiggle like jelly. Her leather jacket squished her pillowy belly, which poured out the bottom and over the waistband of her jeans. Her jeans were so small on her now that they weren’t even done up properly. Instead, Yang had apparently done something with a hairtie to keep her pants closed, even if the button was very far away from getting to the buttonhole. Her fly was so undone that Neo even managed to catch a glimpse of Yang’s plain black panties. When Yang unzipped her jacket, Neo felt her knees go weak as she watched Yang’s belly spill forth. Despite all of this, Neo did her utmost best to try and keep things professional. After all, Yang was her customer, even if Yang in her current state was far from being anything professional.

“Oh, man, Neo, I hope you fill this bad boy up,” Yang said with swagger in her voice, patting her belly as she sat down on a stool that loudly protested the extra weight Yang was putting on it. “I had a good meal at Burger Hog just down the road, but their ice creams are nothing compared to yours.” Thinking quickly, Neo had an idea, a very fun idea for her and, unknowingly, for Yang too.

“Well, since it’s late, why don’t I just give you all you can eat?” Neo signed out. Yang’s eyes widened a touch.

“Oh, sweet, I think I understood all of that. Hell yeah, I’ll take all I can eat. Just a warning, though, I can eat a hell of a lot,” Yang bragged. While Neo did want to fill Yang up to satisfy her secret urges, hearing Yang’s confidence made Neo want to see just how much Yang could, in fact, eat. She whipped up a massive bowl of ice cream, with all the extras on top, and served it to Yang as quickly as she could, before getting started on another one. There was no time for conversation now, as Yang was eating like she was starving, moaning, groaning and grunting all the while. It was such a display of unbridled gluttony that Neo kept finding herself distracted, wanting to just sit and watch Yang make a mess of herself.

Once Yang got through that first bowl, she was onto the next, and the next and the next and so on and so on. Yang managed to keep eating for so long that Neo closed the store before Yang was full. Of course, Neo kept Yang around. After all, Yang wasn’t full yet, and Neo wanted to find Yang’s limit. When she popped around the counter to close up the store, she got a look at Yang’s bloating belly, which was pressing against the counter now.

Several bowls later, Yang was finally, finally, starting to feel full. Neither Neo nor Yang knew how many bowls Yang managed to put away, they were only able to tell by the stack Yang was building up, but neither of them cared to check how many it was. All these two cared about was Yang’s very full belly. Yang leaned back and let out the mother of all long, rumbling belches.

“Oh, fuuuuck, I’m so, urp, so fucking stuffed,” Yang said in a breathy voice as she leaned on the bench, giving Neo a view to her cavernous cleavage. Neo did her best to resist the very strong urge to motorboat Yang. Instead, she came up with an idea that was significantly less visibly horny, while still getting to enjoy Yang’s fullness. She came back around from behind the counter and sat on a stool next to Yang. Then, she leant in, pulling Yang’s yellow tank top up enough to free her belly, before rubbing small, slow circles on Yang’s upper belly. Yang let out a moan of pleasure, telling Neo she was doing something right while making her tremble with arousal. “Oh fuck yeah Neo, that’s the spot,” Yang moaned, her voice going way up high as Neo rubbed her overfilled belly. Neo bit her lip and kept up the work, pressing herself into Yang’s soft side. She was about to get her text-to-speech to declare her infatuation with Yang for her, but moments before she could do that, apparently Yang had hit her limit. “Oh, gods, I can’t hide it anymore! Neo, I think you’re sexy as hell and all this ice cream and all this fat is making me so goddamn horny,” Yang moaned, getting the bench in a vice like grip. Neo responded with an immediate kiss, long, passionate and with plenty of roaming hands accompanying it, squeezing every patch of fat her hands could find. Neo guided Yang up and off of her seat as she took Yang into the back room, all the while not breaking the kiss for any longer than a quick breath.

One very loud and passionate night later, the pair were girlfriends. Once Yang finished her trip across Remnant, she promised she would be back to live with her girlfriend.

---

One Year Later:

“Neo, sweetheart, can you help me tie this up?” Yang called out. She was about to start running the shop on her own for the first time after her couple of months of training and helping Neo, but she came up to the one issue she never foresaw, having trouble tying up her apron. Neo staggered out in her pink flannel pyjamas, quickly being awoken by the sight of her sexy-as-hell girlfriend. Yang’s dark jeans were so tight that they left little to the imagination, hugging her irresistibly wide curves and thick thighs, while her bountiful belly spilled over the waistband and made a muffin top that was impossible to ignore, and this was one of Yang’s better fitting jeans. Clearly, their time dating each other had worked miracles on Yang’s fine full figure. Neo really did want to help Yang out, but the first thing Neo did was to walk face first into Yang’s back and wrap her hands around Yang’s round, blubbery belly. “I like my belly too, Neo, but I gotta get this tied up if I wanna open the store,” Yang teased. Neo responded with a quick squeeze, sinking her arms into Yang’s belly, before letting Yang go and actually getting Yang’s apron tied up. Neo left as much slack as she could, hoping that Yang would fill it, and Yang was more than happy to. “So, is there a limit to how much ice cream I can eat while I’m working? Because I’m definitely gonna try to hit that limit.” Neo circled around so that Yang could see her sign.

“It’s winter, have as much ice cream as you want,” Neo answered. “We won’t have very many customers today.”

“Yes! I’m gonna be so stuffed when we close tonight,” Yang cheered. Neo made a big show of fanning her face. Yang stumbling across this little ice cream parlour was the best thing to happen to these two, they both very much agreed.

#chubby!rwby #weight gain #stuffing

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Seven: Trying for Normal (Gifts)

Prev

AO3

“You can not honestly tell me you are thinking of announcing that girl as your daughter.” Damian says, his scowl deeper than Dick had seen it in a while.

“‘That girl’ has a name, Little D. Plus she’s your sister.” Dick says, resisting the urge to nudge him. They had gotten to the point where a small nudge wasn’t a death sentence, but Damian was on edge. And a small nudge would probably not be appreciated.

“I do not care what her name is, Grayson. Since coming to Gotham she has been involved in two separate Rogue attacks. She is suspicious at best, and a nuisance at worst.” He replies, crossing his arms.

“Enough, Damian. Marinette is not a nuisance. She simply has bad luck.” Bruce says, obviously trying to defend his daughter.

“And poor self-preservation skills. Talking back to the Joker? Snarking the Riddler? For an individual with no combat training, she gets much too involved in attacks. It is idiotic.” Damian argues, shaking his head.

“It might have something to do with the Paris situation. She said she’s been at attacks before, so she must have some experience with villains. And from what I read on the Ladyblog, none of the damage in Paris lasts. She just may not realize how dangerous it is for her to do here what she would do in Paris. We just need to warn her, or, at least remind her, that Gotham is a dangerous place.” Dick says, thinking back to her reaction to the Riddler and the Joker. She was definitely more tense with the Joker, despite the fact that both villains had arrived with armed goons. Maybe she thought the Riddler was less likely to kill someone, not true. Or maybe she- Dick frowns as he remembers a key difference between the attacks.

“I just realized something.” He says with a frown.

“Care to share with the rest of the room, Dickiebird?” Jason asks, strolling in and flopping onto a chair.

“She was more tense at the attack with the Joker, she seemed to understand that it was a dangerous situation. Sure, she talked back to him, but she didn’t try to fight back or anything. But at the attack with the Riddler, he wasn’t even targeting her at first. He was targeting the boy she’d been talking to. And she was more reckless, and then she fought back. She fought well, but it was still super dangerous.” Dick rambles, pacing as he explains the predicament.

“Is there a point to this? I feel like I walked in at the wrong time.” Jason calls out from his chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him.

“My point, Jay, is that Marinette has a crush.” Dick says, shuddering at the word like it’s something disgusting. (It is, his sister is too young for crushes and boyfriends).

“Is that why she ran off with him right after the attack?” Jason asks with a smirk. Dick feels his eyes practically shoot out of his head.

“She what!?” He yells, running over to the Batcomputer to look at the security footage from the wax museum. Spots that were targeted frequently, like the wax museum, had their security footage directly linked to the Batcave. Just in case of an emergency or in case an attack happened and they needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m sure she didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t do.” Jason teases, and Dick pales.

“Shut up, Jason!” He moans, his typing turning frantic as he scrolls through the day’s footage. He stops when he gets to the moments after the battle. When the phones of the French students had all gone off. Frowning, he watches as his sister runs up to the boy and grabs his hand, leaning in and whispering to each other before the two run out of the room. Towards the bathrooms. Oh hell no. Dick scrolls forwards, frowning when they don’t come out in five minutes. Or ten minutes. Huffing, he switches to the cameras aimed at the exits. Surely one of the cameras had to catch the pair leaving the museum. He rewinds it and watches, but...there’s nothing. They don’t leave the bathrooms and they don’t leave the museum. For the rest of the day.

“Has anyone been in contact with her since the attack?” Bruce asks from right beside him, making him jump out of his seat with a yelp.

“I don’t even have her number.” Dick says, resisting the urge to glare at his adoptive father. He might’ve had Marinette’s number had Bruce actually acted like he wanted her to be there for dinner the other day. Instead, he practically ignored her and she left. And now she was missing. Definitely missing, because she never came out of the bathroom at the museum.

“Hello, Marinette? Yes, I apologize for calling so suddenly. I was- yes. Yes, I did hear about the attack….yes, that was part of the reason I was calling. I was wondering if you would like to come to dinner at the manor. You could bring your friend, Adrien Agreste, I believe was his name. Of course. Yes. Oh no, I’ll send a car. No, no I assure you it- Marinette please. Taxis aren’t always safe after dark. Thank you. Yes, I- we’ll see you then. Goodbye.” Bruce hangs up, and Dick looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Just gonna suddenly invite her and her boy toy to dinner, B? What’re you gonna do, interrogate them?” He asks frowning.

“That’s the second time that Marinette has ran off after that alarm. I’ve seen videos of the situation in Paris and I’m concerned. Now go upstairs and act normal. I want all of you on your best behaviors at dinner. Damian, better than best please. No weapons.” Bruce directs before leaving the room, presumably to ask Alfred to pick up Marinette. Dick sighs and looks at his brothers.

“Well this isn’t going to be a disaster or anything.” He says. --- “Tikki this is going to be a disaster!” Marinette whines, throwing herself face first onto the bed. She tries to ignore Tikki’s amused giggle. This was not funny. This was dinner with her family that she hadn’t made a great impression on the first time. And Adrien was invited, and she wasn’t sure where the two stood but she was sure that if Dick was at dinner, he would just push Adrien farther away from her.

“I could practically hear your suffering from Adrien’s room, pigtails.” Plagg says, making Marinette sit up and glare at the Kwami.

“Are you just here to mock me?” She asks, pouting. He snorts.

“No, I’m here to tell you the kid’s on his way over here. I told him you were panicking and he practically ran out his door.” Plagg says with a chuckle. Rapid knocking on the door makes him laugh more before dropping onto the bed next to Tikki. Marinette sighs, rolling off the bed and pulling the door open, jumping forward in time to catch Adrien before he completely falls to the ground.

“Are you okay? Plagg said you were panicking, did something happen?” He asks quickly, looking her up and down. Marinette blinks, slightly taken aback by his sudden concern. It was nice, but still a lot all at once. Shaking her head, she gestures for him to come in and shuts the door behind him. Walking back over to the bed, she once again face plants and groans.

“She’s nervous because Mr. Wayne invited the two of you to dinner.” Tikki chirps, giggling when Marinette lifts her head up enough to glare at her.

“Traitor.” She says, dropping her head back down.

“If you don’t want me to go with Marinette, I won’t.” Adrien says. Marinette immediately jumps up, shaking her head rapidly.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. I just- I’m nervous about actually sitting through a dinner with them. And I’m pretty sure Dick will try and sit between us and glare at you like he did at the museum.” She admits, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“He was glaring at me?” He asks, utter confusion on his face. Marinette groans, dropping her head into her hands.

“Sometimes your obliviousness is cute-”

“You think I’m cute!”

“But right now, it’s kinda making me want to scream into my pillow.” Marinette admits, giving him her signature “not amused” look. A look she usually saves for when Chat Noir is making a pun.

“Wait, why wouldn’t Dick like me?” Adrien asks, thankfully stuck on that now instead of the fact that she thinks he’s cute.

“Um, maybe because we were holding hands? Did you really not notice how he kept standing in between us the entire time we were at the museum?” Marinette asks, suddenly unsure if she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Oh no, I did. I just didn’t think it meant he didn’t like me. I’ve never really dealt with siblings before. I mean, I’ve met Nino’s little brother but...that’s about it.” Adrien says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette sighs, grinning softly.

“I don’t really have a lot of experience either, so maybe I was just imagining things.” She admits. Adrien’s shoulders instantly relax and she smiles. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, did you want me to come with?” He asks after a moment of silence. Marinette nods, agreeing immediately.

“Please. I don’t think I can go back there alone, not yet anyway.”

“Of course, Mari. Now, what’re you wearing?” --- The ride to Wayne Manor wasn’t as quiet as her first, with Adrien making quiet jokes and saying things to try and help keep Marinette out of her head. She was thankful that he had come with, because she was definitely going to need the emotional support to get through dinner. The car stops and Marinette sucks in a deep breath. Smoothing out her skirt nervously, Marinette glances at the small, neatly wrapped package sitting between her and Adrien. It was something she had started back when she first found out she was adopted. And that her parents didn’t know her bio dad. A scrapbook with copies of everything important from her life: baby pictures, school pictures, birth announcement, report cards, clippings from newspapers where she had won or placed in contests, pictures of her early designs and recent designs, pictures of certificates and trophies from various competitions and activities. Basically a road map of her life to be given to her bio dad so that he could get to know her. She’d written her name on the front page, with the words “daughter of Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le” underneath. A sort of amendment to her birth announcement which listed her as the daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain Cheng. And while she definitely was their daughter, she also wanted Mr. Wayne to know that she wanted to be his daughter too. Not just by blood, which isn’t the important part. No, she wanted to get to know him and for him to get to know her. Pushing down the intruding thoughts insisting that it was too soon and that he didn’t want her in the first place, she opens the car door and steps out, clutching the package to her chest like a safety blanket.

“Would you like me to take that for you, Miss Marinette?” Alfred asks, glancing at the package.

“Oh, no thank you Alfred. It’s for my da- er, um, Mr. Wayne. I can hang onto it.” She says with a bright smile. She could do this. Sure, it didn’t go great the last time she was here. And she was pretty sure Mr. Wayne’s youngest son could kill her and wanted to kill her. But it was fine. Everything is fine. Walking through the front door, her shoulders relax slightly when she sees Dick is the only one standing there waiting for them.

“Marinette! He cheers, rushing forward and picking her up in a hug. As in, legitimately picking her up. Okay then.

“Good to see you too.” She says, trying not to show that he’s literally suffocating her with the hug.

“Good to see you again, Dick!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette feels Dick tense before setting her down, his smile less bright as he looks at Adrien.

“And you. Adrien, right?” He asks, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

“Yup!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette watches cautiously, noticing that Dick seems to be squeezing a little too hard….and then Adrien appears to match his strength, if the look on Dick’s face is anything to go by. Marinette coughs to hide a snort, her face heating up as both boys turn to look at her.

“Uh, is it just you and Mr. Wayne tonight?” Marinette asks, choosing to ignore their awkward handshake.

“Nope! It’s me and Bruce and Alfred, of course, and Jay and Tim and Damian and Cass. Steph’s not in town and Babs is having dinner with her dad.” Dick says, and Marinette’s eyes widen. There were a lot more people in her bio dad’s family than she thought. She knew about the boys, but she hadn’t seen anything about Cass, Steph or ‘Babs’.

“I didn’t realize I had sisters too.” She says instead of voicing her insecurities. Before she only had the boys to measure up against, now she had three girls too?

“Well, the only official sister is Cass. Steph used to date Tim and she just kinda stuck around. She’s practically family at this point. And Babs and I used to date, but again, she stuck around after and now she’s practically family.” Dick explains with a grin and a shrug. Cause having your exes around isn’t awkward. Or, maybe it isn’t. She doesn’t have any exes to compare it to. Just as she starts to get lost in her thoughts, she feels Adrien brush against her gently. Reminding her that he’s there, for her, giving her the strength she needs to follow Dick into the living room. Where everyone else was sitting. Oh boy.

“Marinette, so glad you could join us. And Mr. Agreste, nice to see you again.” Bruce says, standing from his spot and moving to shake Adrien’s hand.

“You as well, M. Wayne. And please, call me Adrien. Mr. Agreste is my father.” He says, and Marinette can just barely see his wince. His father always had been his least favorite subject, no matter how much or how little they spoke of him.

“Thanks for inviting us.” Marinette says, moving the package so that she’s no longer clutching it like a lifeline. Holding it out to Mr. Wayne, she laughs at his confused face. “It’s a present.” She adds.

“Oh, well, thank you.” He says, his face unreadable. Marinette shifts her weight, glancing between him and the package, waiting for him to open it. Or properly introduce her to the rest of the family. Either option would work at this point. Glancing at Dick, she sighs in relief when he claps. At least someone was going to make the first move.

“Right, so I don’t think you got the chance to meet Jason and Damian properly when you were here the other day.” Dick says, tugging her around a still frozen Bruce in front of the two boys from the other day.

“No, I didn’t. Hi, I’m Marinette.” She says, smiling and holding out a hand to Damian first. He tuts and turns away, making Marinette’s smile fall slightly before she turns to Jason. Jason grins and shakes her hand.

“Welcome to the family, kid.” He says, before whistling. “You didn’t get B’s height, that’s for sure.” He teases, Marinette snorts, her smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“Hey, don’t count me out for my height. Ever heard the phrase, small but mighty?” She asks, crossing her arms. Jason snorts, reaching out and messing up her hair.

“Whatever you say, Pixie Pop.” He replies. She rolls her eyes and turns to the other two siblings she hadn’t met.

“Hi, you must be Tim and Cass.” She says, smiling at both of them. Tim nods, his hand twitching towards his pocket. Marinette tries not to laugh, having seen Max do the same thing when he had to socialize for any amount of time. The boy was always far more comfortable with his phone in his hand, even if he wasn’t actually looking at it. Cass smiles, and Marinette notices her hands moving. “Sorry, could you repeat that, I wasn’t watching closely.” She says. Cass’ smile widens and she nods before starting over.

“Welcome to family. Nice to meet you.” Cass signs, making Marinette beam.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She says, eyes widening when she realizes she left Adrien alone with a frozen Mr. Wayne. Whirling around, she moved back to Adrien and tugged him forward, rolling her eyes at his surprised yelp. Honestly, he should expect this by now.

“Geeze, Princess. Give a man a warning.” He says, adjusting his shirt that she’d accidentally messed up.

“Sorry k- Adrien. Sorry. Anyway, uh, everyone this is my friend Adrien Agreste. Adrien this is Jason, Damian, Tim, Cass and you already know Dick.” Marinette introduces, gesturing to each of her new siblings. Adrien shoots a wide smile, not quite his model smile but also not quite a real one.

“Nice to meet you all.” He says.

“Marinette, I apologize. Did you want me to open this now?” Mr. Wayne asks suddenly. She turns and raises an eyebrow at his unreadable expression and the way he holds onto the present like he doesn’t know what to expect. Which is fair, considering they’d only met in person the day before.

“Oh, um, if you want to. It’s nothing big.” She says, watching nervously as he nods and unwraps it. His eyebrows twitch together as he looks at the book, obviously not yet understanding.

“Open it, B.” Dick whispers, clearly understanding the gift more than their father. Mr. Wayne nods and opens it, his unreadable expression falling into one that she...still can’t read. But it’s not emotionless anymore. As he flips through the book, a small smile creeps its way onto his face and Marinette almost cheers. That’s the most sincere look she’d ever seen on the man.

“Did you put all this together?” He asks, glancing up from the book to look at her. Marinette nods.

“When I found out I was adopted, I wanted to have something to give my bio dad. So that even if he didn’t want to see me in person, he could get to know me. When I found out you’re my, um, dad, I added some personal touches.” She says.

“And I can keep this?” He asks, and Marinette’s shocked that he sounds almost scared. As if he thinks she’ll say no and take everything back. She smiles.

“Of course. My Maman and Papa already have those pictures. These are all yours.” She says.

“Thank you, Marinette. I- This is an amazing gift.” He says. Marinette’s smile widens and her shoulders sag in relief. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

Next

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[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2

As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 2 .:Pranks and Past Prejudices:.

~Previously~

“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you. 

However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.

The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.

Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.

As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were? 

“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.

You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”

“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.

You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.

“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”

Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.

“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”

“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.

He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.

Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1973  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.

James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.

“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.

And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.

Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.

“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.

As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.

“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.

“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.

“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.

“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”

“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.

“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.

You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.

“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.

You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.

“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.

“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.

Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.

________________________________________________________

James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.

The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.

As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”

As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”

He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.

James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.

“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.

“It smells nice, right?”

“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”

“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”

You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.

“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”

To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.

“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”

And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.

He may just have found himself a proper rival.

Sirius scoffed from where he sat.

“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.

“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.

“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”

“Peter, he might go bald if he does that.”

“Oh.”

_______________________________________________________

James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.

“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.

“What are you, five?”

“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.

“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”

“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”

“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”

“Who's five now?” you grinned.

As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—

“You're glaring.”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.

“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.

“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”

“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.

“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”

“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.

“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.

“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.

You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.

All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.

“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know ! 

Read chapter 3 here!

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan @sleep-i-ness @parker-natasha​

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x slytherin!reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders #severus snape x reader #severus snape #multi chapter #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #post azkaban sirius

[moonlitceleste]

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

-

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