#thinking about the two towers soup....

[theostrophywife]

chicken noodle soup.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths

author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭

Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays. 

Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick. 

As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.

Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.

With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found. 

At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned. 

The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life. 

Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you. 

When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely. 

“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?” 

The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?” 

Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation. 

“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.” 

“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.” 

“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.”��

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave. 

With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.

Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.

By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course. 

The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again. 

In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem. 

Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side. 

“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?” 

The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot. 

“Nice slippers, princess.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?” 

“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”

“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?” 

Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.

“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.” 

You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.” 

“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?” 

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy. 

The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.

"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."

You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."

"Come on, you should sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."

Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon. 

“Here, have some of this. It should help.”

As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.

 “I can feed myself, you know.” 

“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.” 

You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.

“Chicken noodle soup?” 

As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it. 

Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.” 

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?” 

For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?” 

Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.” 

You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?” 

The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.” 

After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little. 

“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.” 

“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.” 

Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.” 

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?” 

“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” 

To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed.  It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.

“How do you know all of that?” 

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.” 

“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”

You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?” 

“You missed me.”

Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.” 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.” 

“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?” 

“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”

“Yeah, but they’re not you.” 

He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.

“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.” 

“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.” 

“That wasn’t a denial, you know.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.” 

“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?” 

“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.” 

“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.” 

The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?” 

“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’

Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.” 

The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh. 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer. 

"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"

"If you tell anyone—"

"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."

Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."

You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."

"Why's that, princess?"

"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."

"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."

"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."

He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.

“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.

You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?” 

Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.” 

You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?” 

You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.” 

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @bubybubsters @criesinlies @niktwazny303 @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404

#a cuddle from him could reset my brain chemistry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff

[withleeknow]

cats and soup.

note: i have a newfound obsession and it's cats and soup so this might be a little niche but it's meant for me and i just wanted to word vomit lmfao

cats and soup, that's your latest obsession. all it took was five minutes of your friend introducing you to the game before you were completely captivated by the world of cute little animated cats making soup on your phone.

so much so that you had to show your boyfriend.

obviously. it's a game about cats. who else would you rather squeal about it with?

though, much to your disappointment, minho doesn't seem very impressed as you try to get him to look at your phone screen for more than ten seconds.

okay. little meanie.

"why would you need to play a game like this when you have our actual babies right over there?"

"i have them in here too!" you'd argue. "look! i named them soonie, doongie and dori. aren't they so cute? soonie is on soup duty, doongie is chopping carrots, and dori is grating cabbages. i even got them cute little hats!"

the mention of his cats featured in the game gets minho to spare you a glance, intrigued for a fleeting moment before he's turning away again.

you'd scowl at his refusal to entertain you but then you'd admit defeat pretty quickly in favor of immersing in your phone once more. it's cats !! making soups !!

it's not unusual for you two to be in separate bubbles while sitting side by side. you're not one of those couples who has to do everything with each other, but you did kinda hope that this would be something for you to have fun with together.

but oh well, if minho isn't interested, then you can't force him. the game is still fun though. even though you go to bed that night a little bummed out, you still fall asleep thinking about getting a black kitten and naming it mimo. it'd be cute, maybe you'd even put him on lemon squeezing duty.

fast forward to the next morning, when he literally shakes you awake at the ass crack of dawn, calling your name frantically.

your first thought is the house must be burning down, because lee minho never acts like this.

"i finally got you!"

"you got me what?"

"i got your cat!"

"what?"

actually, on second thought, the only time that you've seen him this hyped up was when you'd gotten you two matching pjs with soonie, doongie and dori printed on them.

"see?!" then the guy is full on shoving his phone in your face, the sudden brightness of his screen almost taking your eyes out that you have to push his hand away.

"min!"

"sorry. here."

he'd lower the brightness and hold the device a safe distance from your face, impatiently waiting for your eyes to adjust to whatever it is that he's trying to show you.

it's a cat.

an animated cat.

specifically, a cats and soup animated cat, named after you.

"you named a cat after me?"

"yeah i was waiting for ages to get another black cat. i got one first and named it after me. now we can be a black cat couple. look at the cat tower i got us-"

"minho, what the fuck? when did you even start playing?"

"i downloaded it after you fell asleep."

"have you been playing all night? did you even sleep?"

"no, but that's beside the point. look, i'm trying to show you!"

you love him, you do. truly. completely. most ardently. you recognize that this is one of the cutest things that he's done. but jesus christ...

"it's sunday. it's 6 in the morning."

"yeah i know, but-"

"i'll look at it later."

"you're up, you can look now. i got you a potted plant that grows from your head and-"

"lee minho, let me fucking go back to sleep!"

you may have unintentionally created a monster.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho #blurbs

[cypherscript]

Comet Homerun

Flash was panicking, all of the space flying heroes were off planet and he was stuck on monitor duty after slipping some laxative into the mug of an NATO inspector checking out the watch tower to report back to the other nations. Why? Because non-hero suits are just a problem waiting to happen and the sooner he was gone the better. Bats didn't think it was funny in the slightest though. The cause of the panic was the alarms blaring in the monitor room, Watchtower had detected a large celestial object hurdling towards the earth at incredible speeds and given the range of the Watchtower's detection it would impact the earth in forty-five minutes.

"Come on, come on there's gotta be someone in the damn register who can help with this." He spent the next thirty minutes trying to find someone to no avail when a separate alert came through but this time from the earth; a massive energy surge as an object the size of a beachball sped from the earth's atmosphere, its tail forming as it does so.

"What the heck," Flash shouts as he sees it zoom past the Watchtower and into space, moments later the first alarm ceases and the report shows it was destroyed by a comet collision of unknown origin. "Computer track that energy surge on earth and get me a visual." The computer hums and a window opens showing a boy in a black hazmat suit and white hair floating above a park with two other teens. The CCT camera barely picking up what he says. ______________________________________________________________

"Ah dang, kind of let that one get away from me, do you think anyone's going to notice? Atleast I got Overgrowth souped before he got a good root in." The girl scoffs, "Yeah, I'm sure people are just going to ignore a freaking giant ball of ice being flung into space." "Yeah," The other boy speaks up, "Like all the rockets hitting the moon recently. Don't worry about it dude."

"So wasteful," The girl mutters as they head out of frame of the camera. ______________________________________________________________

"What am I going to tell Bats?"

"Tell me what," A deep gravely voice asks, causing flash to totally not scream like little child.

#dp x dc

[see-arcane]

Cards with the Count

Thinking about how Jonathan is trying to pass the time during Vampire Hell Staycation with all the books in the library (a guaranteed Dracula Zone), no stationery (bastard), and a finite amount of secret pen ink and secret diary pages left at his disposal (shit). Reading and writing and art are all out. What’s left?

I like to think, in this order:

1)    He remembers that he has a pack of playing cards in the general luggage Dracula didn’t snatch. A gift Lucy had bestowed on him and Mina, a pack apiece, as she insisted that it was the best way to pass an hour in dreary company that wasn’t to do with gossip or politics.

2)    He doesn’t normally play, if only because he doesn’t have the coin to meet any real gambling stranger at a table. Just a ‘for fun’ thing.

3)    Fuck it. Solitaire. Card towers. It’s something to keep his mind off the…everything.

4)    He gets exactly one (1) day/evening of peace with this. Then:

5)    “Whatever are you up to, my friend?” 

(He didn’t even use the door to give Jonathan time to hide the pack. Misted in. No shadow to give him away. Fantastic.) Jonathan staples his smile back in place and rattles off something apologetic, so sorry, was he keeping the Count waiting? Let him just put this away, he wouldn’t be interested—

6)    Smash cut to the library. The cards are now unofficially confiscated/a staple of the Dracula Zone, alongside the fancy crystal chessboard the Count loves to crush him with on a semi-regular basis. Jonathan is walking him through the rules of sundry card games. Unsurprisingly, he latches onto the concept of American poker readily. The game is a soup of similar European predecessors that light up his eyes with recognition—primero, poque, brelan—sewn together with England’s game of brag into a medley of the initial rules, both written and unwritten.

7)    “A game of skill, then?”

“Skill, acting, and luck.”

Dracula grins as he produces a ransom of gold coins to use as chips. Jonathan deals. 

(What are the extra rules here? Does he throw every hand? Does he play in earnest and inevitably lose anyway? Does it even matter? It isn’t chess, after all. Not a proper strategy game. Cards happen. Guesswork happens. A winner and loser every turn. What does it matter?)

8)    Jonathan realizes two dozen hands later that what matters is, apparently, his face. One that, likewise apparently, cannot be read by the Count in this game. Out of those two dozen hands, Jonathan has won eighteen. Of those eighteen, his hand was the clear dud for nine. Through it all, Dracula’s eyes keep jumping from his own hand to Jonathan’s tired gaze. When Jonathan wins the twenty-fifth hand and the mountain of gold on his side of the table risks toppling off the edge, Dracula bites out a word Jonathan is sure is too caustic to have a spot in the lost polyglot dictionary.

9)    “You have a gift for schooling your face, my friend.” Every word is an icicle; each as sharp as the canines jutting out of the rictus grin.

“I don’t,” Jonathan says. 

And it’s true. Now he’s schooling his face—first lesson of anyone destined for the realm of serving others—but in the game, he’s barely thinking of anything else beyond the ticking of the clock. To punctuate this, he slides the heap of gold back to Dracula’s side of the table. 

“This is only a game for the fun of it. In a game with stakes, there would be something worth playing and worrying for. When you get to England,” his face is very, very schooled as he says this, “you’ll find a much more varied competition at gambling tables. The players who really train their expressions can do so with fortunes at stake, while novices reveal every victory or loss plainly on their face.”

10) Dracula considers this. And smiles.

11) “Ah, then there must be stakes before we can play the game properly. Still, you have won the bulk of these rounds, my friend—” his hand seems like it wants to be strangling something when it drums atop the gold heap, “—and done me the charity of not taking your rightful winnings.” He throws down his cards. Ace and deuce of spades. “I shall have to speak with the kitchen about producing a stand-in prize.” 

He leaves. Jonathan doesn’t blink when he hears the door lock behind him. A card pyramid is erected.

12) Paprika hendl for supper. As excellent as he remembers. Huzzah.

13) The next time he’s herded into the library, he sees what looks suspiciously like his travel paraphernalia flimsily hidden behind a bit of drapery. Dracula is shuffling the deck.

14) “A true prize on the table this time, my friend. I know you are one to appreciate the splendor of our beautiful country, just as I know it is, for your own safety, quite impossible to go exploring alone in the wild. Too many wolves about. But if you win the majority tonight, I shall see to it that my driver takes a leave from his own many errands to escort you beyond the castle for a time, if you so wish.”

“…And if I lose the majority?” He can’t help it: “I’m sure there’s little from me you’d be interested in.”

Dracula grins.

“We shall think of something, I’m certain. Here. Deal.”

15) As expected, Jonathan’s face isn’t effortlessly unreadable in its misery anymore. He has something to play for, even if his trust in Dracula’s dangling carrot on the stick is nigh nonexistent. He loses more. He struggles more. He worries more…

16) …But the wins and losses remain surprisingly even. On into the dawn they play, matching victory for victory. Even the Count seems puzzled. Jonathan is just tired. He was never going to win. The ‘driver’ will fall to some mysterious ailment, his possessions will disappear the moment he’s sent out of the room ahead of the Count. To Hell with it.

17) “I forfeit. We remain tied, so neither has to lose.” A sour smile curls. “Besides, I have kept you up too late again.”

“One more.”

“We can say you won—,”

Dracula gives him a Look.

Jonathan sits again. Plays again.

Wins again.

Dracula hisses several words the polyglot dictionary would be scandalized to translate. Jonathan feels the first genuine smile he’s wanted to make in a month and a half try to creep up on his lips, and stifles it.

18) Dracula turns over his cards and thumbs though the deck as if looking for a conspirator. He even scowls at Jonathan’s forearms, both bare through the whole game as he’d rolled up his sleeves. Still grumbling, his thumbnail finally hooks a card that makes a cloud pass over his face.

19) “What. Is this?”

Jonathan looks.

“Oh, that’s just a Joker.”

“Joker?”

“Yes, I thought I’d taken him out. He’s not a usable card in this game, but he’s sometimes used as a trump or wild card in others. That is, he’s there to turn the tide for whoever gets to play him.”

Jonathan reaches for the card to tuck it back in the box. Dracula pulls it out of reach, walks to the fireplace, and flicks it into the flames.

“Say what you will, but I recognize a symbol of sabotage when I see it. It should not be in the deck at all!” Still watching the little harlequin turn to cinders, he flaps his other hand at Jonathan. “Go rest, my friend. Take that infernal game with you. It is not a respectable pastime for men of our like.”

20) Jonathan gathers up the deck, gives his travel kit a last mournful look, and leaves for his bedroom, knowing not to ask after the walk in the forest as he goes. In his bed, he empties the deck into his hand again and thinks on four things.

Skill.

Acting.

Luck.

And…

21) He turns the deck’s neglected second Joker over in his fingers, the impish face seeming to hold a secret in its grin.

22) When he wakes next, he isn’t surprised to find the deck has been stolen. It doesn’t trouble him. Somehow, it even produces a tired grin on his face. It nearly matches the painted thing hidden, wild and powerful, in the pages of his journal.

#in which time is passed and you should always consider stray cards in the deck #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #poker #playing cards #joker #my writing

[konigsblog]

Hi! This is my first time asking something :D 

Do you do anything, not nsfw? And if so, what would some random könig headcanons you agree with? Like habits and stuff you’d think he’d do? (does that make sense lmao)

If you just do nsfw you could make them nsfw headcanons.. Or just combine both aha

**HII.. i do write for sfw and fluff, as well as angst it's just not really requested as much as smut :) but here, hope you enjoy this!!! 🌙

silly könig headcannons

⭒ mentions of weed use, fluff.. 🌷🎀

⭒könig who prefers cats over dogs. they're quieter and calmer, has a ginger cat called ‘spice’ that's fiesty to new people. he loves the animal to death, and hands it to his oma when he's on deployment.

⭒i've mentioned this before, but i feel like könig was in a band as a kid, just a school one. he played the drums and was pretty emo in his teenager years...

⭒he sleeps in the weirdest positions. he'll either wake up with his body contorted into different ways, his arms above his head and across his chest with his legs intertwined with eachother.

⭒he's an easily jealous person, always top of his classes and getting 100% on his tests. his mother always wanted the best outcome for her son, so she was shocked when he decided to join the kommando spezialkräfte instead of becoming a doctor or a lawyer.

⭒has 100% attempted to get up but fell because his legs were stuck and tangled in his bedsheets.

⭒gets second hand embarrassment far too easily. he's cringing on the inside when someone does/says something stupid.

⭒absolutely hates the summer. it's horrible; everybody's sweaty and stinks, missions make him want to peal his skin off. definitely prefers autumn/winter.

⭒his favourite food to eat whilst sick is soup, a special homemade soup him and his mother made together while growing up. her own special recipe that he only teaches to his closest of friends.

⭒loves late night conversations. they're so deep and understanding, chatting for hours 'til your jaw hurts and the sun his peaking through the curtains.

⭒either drinks black coffee, really bitter. or drinks the most sugary coffee ever, no in-between. (tell me your opinions)

⭒is a morning person. gets up early and has his breakfast, something quick and easy, like toast or porridge (oatmeal), has a morning shower 'nd everything. (i love adding salt to my porridge/oatmeal)

⭒hates when people say germany and austria are the same. will definitely have a whole rant about the differences 'til you understand fully.

⭒smokes weed a lot, pretty much an addict. he says it's to calm his nerves down but he gradually started doing it more and more often. a stoner fs.

⭒enjoys movies, a lot. he loves sitting down with a blanket beside him, covered in orange cat hair. will probably make a bowl of popcorn to eat whilst watching, but ends up eating it all before he's even 30 minutes in.

big, bear hugs. we all know that the big, brute and towering man gives amazing hugs, but he really wants to lay atop of you, to cage you with his warmth.

⭒has a tendency to over share, rants sometimes while pretending to be confident, finding anything to talk about before feeling a bit uncomfortable with what he'd said.

⭒isn't shy. it's my biggest pet peeve when people make könig out to be someone shy, scared, ect.. he's not shy, he's socially anxious, but that doesn't make him quiet. he either puts on a front and pretends to be confident with a cocky, loud personality.

⭒absolutely adores milk. he drinks like a gallon in two days, that's why he's 6’10.

⭒enjoys mint chocolate chip ice cream, hates strawberry, especially if they have chunks. (self projecting)

⭒enjoys doing the dishes, finds it satisfying. until he touches food and gags.

⭒avid banana hater, the texture to the taste, everything about it makes him feel ill.

⭒listens to music for hours, usually something rock or heavy metal, loud music in his ears and the loud explosions gives him some hearing damage.

⭒usually smells woodsy, fresh cut trees and vanilla.

⭒germaphobe. doesn't like being near people when they're sick and will avoid them, probably because he gets sick too easily, despite having a strong immune system.

⭒isn't a very emotional person, he has sympathy for others but can't express it through tears and emotions. he's cold and aggressive to the recruits, blaming them for his issues because he struggles taking blame and fault for situations and needs a punching bag.

⭒owned a fish when he was around 7, cried because it died. turns out it was alive and he saw it swim down the toilet. never got another fish again, traumatized.

⭒doesn't like being told he's in the wrong, will refuse and deny it 'til he's forced to either apologise or end the friendship.

⭒curly ginger, or wavy ginger, you can't change my mind.

⭒doesn't really understand tiktok that much, or instagram. not really something that he's interested in, but occasionally uses twitter for like 5 minutes.

⭒has anemia, or iron deficiency. takes a couple naps a day because he doesn't like taking his supplements.

these are all i could think off 😵‍💫 tell me your personal headcannons!!

banner credit; @cafekitsune

#orla speaks #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare ii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod headcanons #cod mw22 #cod imagine #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #cod konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #call of duty headcanons #cod modern warfare #konig #konig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii

[kithj]

compiled a list of some of my favorite text-based games & VNs that are specifically wlw:

another round - You play as Maddie, a woman in love with a woman named Agnes. Actually, she hates her. Actually, it's complicated. You definitely broke things off with her. And you don't regret it. At least once. Yes. At least once per day, you don't regret ending it with Agnes. Except tonight. You definitely regret it tonight.

such, such were the joys - It is the year 19xx in England. You are returning to the town of Grayling after your first year at university to meet your old school friends: Cicily Thomas, Fatima Khan, and Susheela Rajaram. As the only Indian girls at Grayling Towers, the four of you quickly became close friends, but you haven't seen each other in a year. You're not sure what has changed since then, but this is your chance to find out.

florence - Florence lies in bed, cold and still. You watch over her and wait.

perseids, or, all this will go on forever - Four trans girlfriends go on a road trip to a dark sky park, to see the perseid meteor shower. 

winter - an interactive fiction about sex, trans insecurity, and a girl with a skull for a face.

butterfly soup 1 & 2 (VN) - A visual novel about gay Asian girls playing baseball and falling in love.

birdland - At night 14-year-old Bridget Leaside dreams of fantastic lands full of strange bird people. By day she's a miserable anxious summer camper, trying very hard not to think about her feelings for the mysterious girl detective in Cabin 22. And when her dream life starts bleeding into reality, things are going to get weird for her in a whole bunch of ways...

a summer's end: hong kong 1986 (VN) - Follow the story of Michelle and Sam, and how their chance meeting evolves into a deeper romantic relationship. Set in vibrant Hong Kong in the year 1986, it is an original story about love, family, and culture.

one day hike - You go on a hike in a familiar wood.

a year of springs (VN) - experience the stories of haru, erika, and manami in A YEAR OF SPRINGS, a visual novel trilogy about a trio of friends navigating their feelings of love, connection, and just wanting to belong.

pageant - Your name is Qiuyi (Karen?) Zhao, and you’ve just been signed up by your parents for a beauty pageant. You’re not ready, not even close, but you don’t have a choice. But perhaps you can make the best of it.

new year's eve, 2019 (sequel to pageant) - You are Karen Zhao, a senior in college who is home for winter break, and seeing your old high school friends for the first time in years. You are not ready, not even close, but perhaps you could make the best of it.

the revenant's lament - Way out west, in the most lonesome of reaches, strange things are afoot. Cowboys around campfires tell ghost stories and tall tales, speak of impossible, supernatural things. They say the devil walks amongst men. They say he'll grant you impossible wishes at the cost of your eternal soul. They say he can bring dead men back to life.

venus meets venus - Two women meet in a bar. This is not a love story.

#yes i put my own game on this list. sue me #anyways i know there are like a billion yuri games on itchio so this is a highly curated list #excluding dating sims and yuri VNs cus they're incredibly easy to find like just go in the yuri tag lmfao #interactive fiction #games #also most of the creators on this list have more games too that i recommend #draw everything here that's me and you (?) something like that by kaleidofish #anamika has quite a few games besides florence and such such were the joys #there's another sequel to pageant and new years 2019 & the archivist by autumn chen #npckc has a shit ton of games lmfao #there are some sequels to birdland too but ive never played any of those #communistsister has a massive catalogue of games and collabs with domino club #anyways. these are just some of my favorite creators #and some of their games that i really liked #i might add on to this but im having a hard time focusing to read games lately i only just finally read revenant's lament last night #so i could put it here. brigid your game will haunt me forever (affectionate)

[ghostieyanyan]

~Yandere Regrets~

Yan!Ruggie x mc

Yan!Silver x mc

Yan!Cater x mc

Yan!Vil x mc

i thought of this a while ago so hehe.. what does a yandere regret? where's the line for yanderes? hurting their darling? punishment? threats??

Warnings: death, hinted of child birth (its still gender neutral but if you feel uncomfortable with it, you can just say its yandere delusions ^^), sleep spell, manipulation, self-loathing, death threats, hate mail(?), mind break, kinda creeping

~~~~~

Ruggie

you were supposed to be fine.. this wasn't how it suppose to be... you and him were supposed to grow old and die together. but no. Life always had to spit in his face.

He was stupid.. you were so different from him and he didn't even think about what your body was strong or weak against. the cold in the slums was easy for him to handle, duh, he grew up there... but you were different...

he should have given you vaccines or something to protect you from the slums sicknesses. he should have slowly eased you into the slums with his family... to build up your immune system.

he couldn't get mad at anyone... only himself..

Ruggie wanted you to be part of his life so badly, he took you to the slums in the dead of night and never looked bad at NRC.

Crowley found the way to your world and you just had a week to say your goodbyes... he didn't want you to leave! he didn't want to say goodbye!

the timing was awful... if it was around the end of the year, he could have graduated and then he'll get a good job to support his family, you, and the family he'd like to make with you..

but he was impassion and scared he'll lose you forever.. and he ultimately lost you in the most cruelest ways.

in the slums, everyone knows that you have to be very careful to not get sick. cuts are even worst. sickness means you need medicine, medicine cost money, which they don't have...

it was supposed to just be a common cold...

it was winter time, the snow was starting to fall and covered the slums in a thin layer of snow. it'll likely go away in the morning but it was still cold out. even in sunset savanna.

Most of the kids stayed inside because of the cold. some, who can handle the cold, were playing outside.

Ruggie was with his grandma making you soup. you had a pretty nasty cough and they insisted on something warm in you system would help.

how did his grandma take him bringing you home..? he promised her some great grandkids and she was down for it.. and to say she scared you more than ruggie's threats on if you were to ran away was an understatement. she was living proof on how scary female hyenas could be..

you were supposed to be fine.. the soup was supposed to make you feel better.. he always got better after the soup. but you were different, unique, one of a kind... that's why he fell in love with you..

he knew you didn't love him. he wasn't a good man. he took you away from your home, not just from the mirror, but NRC. he knew you loved being a part of NRC. helping out, even when Crowley forced you, you still enjoyed it...

he thought you could learn to love him and you two would work hard to provide for your family in the slums... and one day work hard enough to better the slums, or everyone.

instead... you died that winter.. because of that stupid cough. and he's now alone... the one thing he didn't want...

he had to say goodbye..

~~~~~

Silver

When silver was a kid, his father would tell him all the stories he knows, which were a lot. his favorites, as a kid, were the stories where the prince or knight characters protects their home and loved ones.

he told his father that when he grows up, he wants to be strong enough to protect everyone he loves. his father told him at he should train and eat a lot to grow strong and maybe he'll find his "royal stuck in their tower~" or "royal stuck in a death like sleep~"

Silver felt that his father always had his head in the clouds for these, "cheesy" scenarios. he personal didn't mind it though. he, himself, didn't know if he'll find his other half but he's not the type that will roll around in his sleep about it...

he thought..

when silver first heard about you, it came from the news of "a newcomer with no magic and a wild monster came to the school ceremony and caused mayhem." but how Lilia described it was "an excited turn of events." silver didn't mind it too much.

he only hear more about you when malleus was telling him, sebek, and Lilia about the child of man staying in the abandoned dorm and how you invited him to this event, not knowing who he is. with how malleus spoke so highly of you, made him curious of this perfect.

he also over heard how you always finding yourself into a bunch of overblot situations. he hasn't even met you and you already sound amazing. kinda like the princes or knights of those old stories...

to say he was charmed by the mysteriousness of you was an understatement. he wanted to go out and just meet you to understand you better but he was always busy. school, clubs, protect malleus, naps, theres a lot on his plate but what can you do.

when he finally met you, from school events or school trips, each time you were with him it felt so warm and comforting. you were so calm and gentle with him, not like he need that but it was a nice feeling. whenever he fell asleep, he'll either wake up to you stering him or with his head resting in your lap. he never want this feeling to end. Silver wants to keep waking up besides you, for the rest of his life.

when he told Lilia about it, how he should confess to you and all. Lilia told him that he over heard you and your first year friends talking about making a break through about you going home, so this confess better be big...

he grew silent, which is normal for him but this was a different silent and lilia could tell..

"how about you show them how much you love them? that your love has no bounds. from twisted wonderland to other realms out there~"

even with lilia cheesy rometic preaching, he had a point. but how..? he wants to show you that you were important to him and that he'll protect you. he'll be your prince to... wake you...

silver stopped by your dorm late, you were just about to go to bed but he asked for time and how it was really important. you agreed and you both decided to talk outside. he started to tell you about his childhood and his love your fairy tale stories his father use to tell him. he told you how he loved you and wanted to show you that both of you were meant to be. he held your hand and pulled out a needle from his pocket.

you started to get scared and tried to pull away but it was untimely useless. silver just over powered you so easily. with one prike from the needle, you stared to feel dizzy and felt like your head ached. you fell into silver's chest which is arms snaked around you.

"it'll be okay.. ill wake you up.. and you'll understand that we were meant to be~"

he picked you up and gave you a sweet soft kiss on your lips.

he waited... and waited... and gave you a kiss again... and waited..

you didnt open your eyes.

~~~~~

Cater

Cater hated being with his family... his dad wasn't there when he needed him, his sisters treated him like an object or play thing, and his mom enables his sisters... if his friends invites him to any family related events, he'll take it in a heartbeat just to be away from his family. he'd rather die than admit that his sisters didn't have an influence on his behavior as a kid and even now that he's older.

when he first saw you, he thought you were the cutest thing in all of twisted wonderland. Cute little perfect, lost in an unknown world and at the mercy of everyone here. like a little animal that lost their way and that doesn't know better, but he'll help this cute lost animal.

it definitely helped his case, with how much ace and deuce brings you around. plus they often leave you to your lonesome because they cause some trouble and drag grim along too. what his luck~

At first he didn't mind sharing you with Trey, you all often spent time together watching trey bake and talking about any drama or rumors from school, trey didn't really mind the drama but he enjoyed the company.

the more Cater spent time with you, the more he fell for you. and when you come to him for anything, his heart skips a beat. you're just too precious in his eyes.

You both made it a thing that he'll come to you to online shop, mainly browsing because you couldn't effort anything. but every time you pointed something you liked, he always had something to say about it.

"i don't know about that... i think this one will match you better~! you'll look so cute in it~"

you didn't really mind, it wasn't like you took it personal... you shouldn't.. right?

sometimes Cater will stop by the Ramshackle dorm and bring you a "goodie bag." it was either the stuff he said you would look good in or some other cute stuff. pins, hair clips, hair ties, accessories, plushies, etc. some of the things weren't in your wheel house of interests but telling Cater you didn't like them when he looks so happy didn't feel right...

so you just allowed him to do whatever he liked.. it wasn't hurting anyone right..?

it wasn't-... it didn't hurt anymore. his teases that felt like hard jabs into your looks and insecurities, didn't hurt as badly anymore. without you realizing it, Cater was the one to dress you up and tell you what to do, eat, and how to think. you thought about it, why didn't you say anything..? well.. cater will be upset. every time you tell him you had a problem with how he treats you, he gets really sad and you just didn't like it one bit... it was too much to keep fighting it.. you were tired... you were drained..

cater and his "helpful inputs" just made you feel insecure of yourself. maybe you really need cater's help. you don't want to be a sore thumb to the people you care for, right?

"hey, what do you think about this? pref-?"

cater looked at you and he froze... he knows that look in your eyes. the pain.. the hurt.. the empty look.. the helplessness..

he's being the monster of his sisters.. to you...

~~~~~

Vil

Vil is a highly respected figure in twisted wonderland. his looks and his voice, his mere presences is a blessing for some people (his fans-). he has to be perfect, he only expects himself to be perfect. with the people around him, he tries his best to not being so strict about them being perfect but as long as they work for that goal, he cant complain too much.

when he met you, he cant say much or you might get crunched under all his critiques. but he admires how hard working you are, whether you like to be or not. to say vil enjoyed your clumsy potato charm was an understatement. the more he watched you, the more he was charmed~

he tired not to be too harsh on you, you are doing your best with the hand you have been delt, but still do you always have to slouch like that?

Whenever you see Vil, he always gives you "advice" whether if they are convention advice, with vil statures and position, you couldn't really say no...

without you realizing it, you find vil appearing more into your life. when you pass your classes, when your getting any paper work for Crowley, even when you are heading back to your dorm..! Vil requested Rook to get your weekly scheule...

at this rate, you'll see vil more than your friends, the only time you see your friends were in class and lunch.

you confronted vil, asking him if something was wrong.

oh boy~ he loves how you could stand up to him~

likely for him, being a great actor comes into his favor when he has to convince you that he's not creeping on you.

"i just like to check up on you. even if your aren't part of the main dorms. i cant let you make a joke out of NRC just because you are magicless"

he lend into you, reaching his hands to your face-!!

"your uniform is also messed up, potato. do i have to do everything for you!"

"o-oh..."

he starts to fix up your uniform and takes his leave. leaving you to process what happened..?

meanwhile someone with a certain hat took a picture and shared it on magicam. news broke out and rumors like "Vil isn't single anymore?!?!" and "who is this mysterious person?!" broke out like wild fire. you only hear about it from Cater who was upset that you didn't say you were in a relationship, much less, to vil!

but with rumors and a big following of vil's fans, comes lots of hate. you don't even have Magicam but you hear all the hate from your friends, classmates, and even classmates that weren't in your class or grade!! they were all getting concerned..

you're address got leaked and you were sent hate mail and death threats everyday! one person even sent pictures of you when you were out on a school event. it wasn't safe for you anymore. this took such a mental tole on you that Crowley had to asked a favor from Ambrose LXIII and have you transfer to RSA...

you didn't want to leave.. but you didn't have a chose anymore..

~

the picture was suppose to lead you to him... you were suppose to run to him, crying in his arms to protect you. Vil was suppose to be your knight in shining armor...

~~~~~

#twst fanart #twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #art #digital art #disney twst #yandere twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst art #twisted wonderland #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland ruggie #ruggie x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere silver #twst silver x reader #twst silver #silver #twst cater #cater diamond #cater x reader #cater twst #cater twisted wonderland

[lemony-snickers]

hey lemony!! woke up thinking about sick!kakashi. i partially think he would be the type to ignore sickness until it cannot be ignored, and i think when he gets sick, before he gets into a relationship, he would be very good and quick about getting himself better just so he could be sent on missions quicker or whatever. however, after he gets into a relationship, i think he would be the whiny, needy type that drags out his sickness/symptoms just so he could soak up all the care and affection he could get from his partner :)

sorry lemony! one more thing to add to sick kakashi anon is that his dogs would know if he was faking it because they could smell the sickness, and by day 4, pakkun would probably say “you don’t smell sick anymore” while the partner is out of the room and kakashi would just glare at him

hey, anon. i think this is very cute & you are absolutely right.

Kakashi glares at Pakkun as the dog huffs again, already wrinkled brow furrowing. "It's unfair to keep expecting them to wait on you hand and foot."

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow--which you had perfectly placed and fluffed and put a new case on while he bathed that morning. "I know, I know. Just a little longer, okay?"

The pug growled lowly, but said nothing else.

And Kakashi did, in fact, know Pakkun was right. That allowing you to continue caring for him--pampering him, even--was perhaps a little selfish.

There was a time Kakash would never in a thousand years have considered feigning illness. In fact, when he was younger, he was much more likely to feign not being sick even as a fever raged within him, turning his skin pink and sticky, cool to the touch, as ever muscle in his body screamed for respite.

"I'm fine," he would grumble to Tenzo or Yugao, swatting away their hands when they tried to feel his forehead or neck to confirm their suspicions.

But that was a long time ago. That was before he met you.

He never swatted your hands away. Rather, he yearned for your touch the moment it ceased, sometimes whining faintly so you would brush your fingers through his hair, over his cheek soothingly.

Kakashi did not think he had ever craved anything as much as your touch. Not his favorite foods or books. Not even the bleak release of death during his darkest moments.

When you were near him, the awful thoughts quieted, the weight of the world--of his loved ones' sacrifices--lifted just a fraction. He felt like he could breathe easier as long as the two of you shared the same air.

The first time he'd fallen ill, there had been no pretense. He'd simply returned from a mission in rain-soked Amegakure with wet feet and an awful, racking cough. He hadn't even thought to tell you, to take himself off the active duty roster to recuperate.

But then you'd showed up at his door, expression immediately concerned as you reached out to press your wrist against his forehead, frowning when you felt the heat radiating from his skin.

"Are you sick?" you'd asked. He'd shrugged even as his teeth chattered. And then, to Kakashi's utter surprise, you'd dedicated yourself wholly to taking care of him. You made him miso soup, wrapped him in warm, fuzzy blankets you brought from your own house (Kakashi had no such thing in his apartment). You put soothing balm under his nose, made him tea steeped with echinacea. You stopped at the Hokage Tower to let the chunin at the mission desk know he needed to be put on sick leave.

It had all felt so natural, even as it was also foreign. Kakashi could not remember someone ever taking care of him in such a way, though he was sure there had been a time when Sakumo had done so--gingerly placing a warm cloth on his son's forehead between misssions. Kakashi wondered if his mother had ever done the same, when he was far too small to remember.

And it had felt good to be cared for. Fretted over. The warmth of his fever was nothing compared to that which bloomed in his chest as you bustled around his apartment, tidying up because he "needed to rest." You were so naturally good at taking care of others--taking care of him. It made him all the more grateful to have found you.

So the next time he was sick, he didn't think anyone could blame him for milking it just a little. Forcing his coughs to sound a bit raspier, looking up at you with pleading, pathetic eyes when he told you he was cold and could you come here and warm him up.

Now, though, Pakkun had clearly caught on to his game. Kakashi was grateful his summons had at least waited until you left the room to thoroughly sniff his cheek and then gruffly accuse him, "You're not sick anymore, what are you doing?"

What was he doing? Surely you had more important things to attend to than warming a bowl of soup for him and sitting beside him on the bed as he feebly ate.

But wasn't he allowed to be just a little selfish? All those years pushing through the pain of injury and illness... didn't he deserve a little extra care now that he'd found the person who made him feel worthy of it?

You returned to the room with a steaming bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Kakashi recognized the telltale fizz of one of the electrolyte tabs you sometimes dropped in "to make sure you're well-hydrated."

They turned his urine a strange shade of pale orange, but Kakashi didn't have the heart to tell you they were probably just overpriced B-vitamins.

"He isn't sick anymore."

Betrayal, white hot and instantaneous, lanced through him. Kakashi's head whipped toward Pakkun who scratched at one ear with his hind paw, utterly unconcerned.

Kakashi expected you to frown, to chastize him for taking advantage of your goodness.

Instead, you chuckled, which grabbed both his and Pakkun's attention.

When he met your gaze, your smile was full of love Kakashi thought his fever might have returned full force with how warm he suddenly felt, basking in it.

"You think I don't know that?" you asked, and Kakashi felt his cheeks flare with new heat that had nothing to do with his cold. "I don't mind indulging him a little."

You crossed the room and set his lunch on the bedside table, perching on the edge of the bed as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. You combed your fingers through his hair, still smiling, as you added, "Besides, I know he'll make it up to me in other ways."

Pakkun grumbled something vaguely insulting as he hopped off the end of the bed and padded his way out of the room.

Kakashi didn't bother to ask him to repeat himself or chide him for his rudeness. Instead, knowing full well he was no longer sick and so he couldn't pass his illness to you, he pulled you into a sweet, lingering, grateful kiss.

You were right, he would certainly be making this up to you and more.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi imagines #kakashi's ninken #dog dad supremacy #gn!reader #lemony scribbles

[taylorlovesrain]

paris - jack hughes

pairing: Jack Hughes x reader

warnings: heavy fluff, slight angst, mentions of alcohol, kissing

word count: 1.84k

authors note: This turned out a lot more fluffy, than I intended it to, also I think I mentioned everything I learned in french class about Paris, this is loosely inspired by Taylor Swifts “Paris”. Btw thank you for all the love on “how you get the girl” <3

Paris, the city of love, that’s where Jack took you for your five year anniversary of being a couple, you’ve always been wanting to go to Paris, visit the Louvre and Eiffel Tower, go shopping on the Champs-Élysée, eat a lot of amazing food, like croissants, onion soup and many more.

Now five years after Jack and you started dating, he finally made your dream come true. He surprised you with the trip one week before your anniversary, he woke you up early in the morning and didn’t tell you where you were going just that everything was packed already and that you would be able to sleep on the plane. To be honest you needed your sleep desperately, because you went out the night before with some of your and Jacks friends, where one of your friends told you that some guy you hooked up with ages ago, before you even started dating Jack, kissed the sister of one of your ex friends in a club your friend went to the other night, your friend also wanted to show you the pictures they took of it, but you didn’t want to see them, why would you want to see them? You were in a happy relationship for multiple years now and you didn’t understand, why some of the people you knew, wouldn’t accept that and always try to talk about your past hook ups or relationships, which you didn’t care about anymore. If you were true to yourself, it was exhausting people always trying to tell you how you should act in your relationship with Jack, telling you that you weren’t good enough for him or that he wasn’t good enough for you and because of you being with Jack since before he even got drafted into the NHL, everyone watched your relationship grow over the years.

They saw you attending games to support Jack, they saw him mentioning you in interviews, they saw the posts you shared of your time together, they thought they knew about everything going on in your and Jacks relationship, so a lot of people thought, that they also had the right to judge it.

So a secret trip that no one knew about, in a country, where probably no one knew about you or Jack was exactly what you and him needed right now, a break from everything and everyone, just you two together, in the city of love.

Jack tried to keep the destination of your vacation from you as long as he could, but when they called out your flight at the airport and he got up saying that this was your flight, you finally knew where you were going, Paris, the city of your dreams. If you weren’t already head over heels in love with Jack, that might would’ve been what would’ve made you fall for him, he was the man who made all your dreams come true, he knew everything about you and you knew everything about him, he made you happy, like no one ever did before, you wanted to spend forever with him loving you and you loving him.

When you arrived in Paris and drove through the streets on the way to your hotel and the Eiffel Tower came out behind all of the buildings, you started tearing up, you couldn’t believe, that you were actually here, in Paris, with the love of your life.

The next few days you spend with nearly visiting all of the tourist attractions you could, you went to the Louvre, where you saw some of your favorite art pieces, you went to see the Eiffel Tower, for which you got over your fear of heights, so you could look over the city on the highest platform of the tower, you saw Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe, one of your personal favorites was, seeing Monets “Waterlilies” at the Musée de l’Orangerie, to sum it all up, the first few days of your trip in Paris were amazing.

Today was your and Jacks anniversary and were quite nervous about it, he woke you up through peppering kisses all over your face and mumbling “I love yous” into your skin “Good morning babe, happy five years, I love you” he whispered when you opened your eyes, slowly you pulled him into a loving kiss “Good morning, happy five years, I love you more” “I don’t think that you love me more than I love you”. You finished your morning with breakfast in bed and got ready for the day soon after, throughout the whole process of trying to get ready, you tried to get Jack to tell you, how you would spend your day but Jack didn’t tell you any of the plans he made, as much as you tried to convince him of telling you, what his plans were for the day, he didn’t let anything slip just kept telling you, that you would find out soon enough. The first thing you both did after walking out of your hotel, was walk to the little bakery you found a few days ago, you could’ve taken the metro which probably would’ve been a lot faster but the scenery was way to beautiful for that, you walked hand in hand through small alleyways with beautiful old buildings that had ivy or flowers hanging from the balconies. The bakery was in a beautiful building that had “boulangerie” written in gold letters over the entryway and it had the best crossaints both of you ever had, so you bought two of those and a baguette, next you made your way into a small family owned grocery store to get some cheese and grapes to eat with the baguette, after you bought everything you needed, Jack took you to the Eiffel Tower, where you sat in the shade a tree threw and and had a small picnic, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, just enjoying each others company. The rest of the day you spent walking through Paris, discovering little hidden parks and small stores with cute souvenirs and other things. When it slowly grew later and the evening came, you were walking along the Seine “I have a surprise for you” he whispered in your ear and led you down the stairs until you got to a little dock, that had a small boat waiting for you, on the boat was a table with two chairs. The table was decked out with most of your favorite foods and the boat was lit up with candles and fairy lights. “Oh my god Jack, this is beautiful, I don’t know what to say, wow thank you, I love this, I love you” he pulled you closer “I love you too and I’m glad you like it y/n”. Jack pulled out your chair for you and you want to sit down, when Jack sat down he smiled at you, you spent the dinner admiring the view but most of the time you were admiring him, Jack, the boy you fell in love with when you were a teenager, your best friend, your everything. After you’ve finished eating, it was nearing midnight, the both of you sat together watching the moons reflection shimmer on the water and the city of love in which the lights turned on and off, “Jack look at the view, it’s so beautiful, everything here is so beautiful” you told him mesmerized “Yep, so beautiful” he answered not taking his eyes off of you, he was taken by how beautiful you looked, like you were with the view of Paris.

When you turned back around to look at Jack you found him on one knee “Jack-“ you were already tearing up, “y/n my love the past five years have been the best years of my life so far and not only those, every year since I’ve known you has been made better through your presence in my life, you are my best friend, you are my motivation and inspiration, you are the person I want to wake up to every morning, you are the person who brings light to my dark days, my sunshine, my daylight, you are the love of my life and I love everything about you, I love your laugh, I love how you can recite all of your favorite movies, I love the way you hug me after my games and hold me when I’m sad, I love the way you say my name, I love how you love everyone and want everyone to be happy, I love how you don’t care what anybody thinks about you or us and I love how you love me and I admire you for you are and who you make me, y/n I love you and I want to spend forever with you, I want to go through the good and bad with you, I want to come home and see you sitting on our couch watching a movie, I want to make all your dreams come true, I want to raise our future children together in Michigan or Jersey or wherever we’ll be, I want to hold you, I want to kiss you, I want to love you forever and I hope you want this too, y/n/n do you want to marry me? By the time Jack finished his speech you were crying, both tears of joy and tears of sadness, this was the question you wanted Jack to ask you since you knew that you loved him.

You cradled his face with both of your hands, holding both of his cheeks and brought his face closer to yours and slowly kissed him, it was a loving, slow, meaningful kiss, when he pulled away, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, while gazing into your eyes, “so is that a yes? do you want to marry me?”, “Yes Jack, I want to marry you, I love you and I want to spend forever with you and loving you”. He pulled you in again for another kiss, while slipping the ring on your hand. This time, you were the one to pull away first from the kiss “Let’s keep this just ours, at least for the next week while we’re still in Paris” you mumbled, “If you want to make this our little secret, then I’m more than happy, to keep it just ours”, behind you the Eiffel Tower started shimmering, it’s the only flashing lights with you in Paris, no one knew you here, no one knew who you were and no one here or at home would know about your engagement for the next few days, your love being just yours.

The next few days where spent with stumbling through alleyways at midnight after drinking cheap wine acting like it was champagne, having picnics under trees and visiting many more sights, every day you somewhere found a little note in Jacks cursive letters on how much he loved you and why he loved you.

From these two weeks on, Jack and you decided to keep your relationship more private, like you put a privacy sign on the door, page or the whole world, you enjoyed keeping your love just yours.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ice hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #angst #fluff #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes #jack hughes angst #new jersey #new jersey devils #paris france #paris #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl fluff #nhl angst #hockey fluff #taylor swift #taylor swift paris #taylor swift midnights #midnights #midnights 3am version #eiffel tower #water lilies #louvre #arc de triomphe #friends to lovers

[idyllcy]

portal

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: smut, nsfw themes

Summary: For eternity past and eternity beyond, Tim would stay in your arms, even if you no longer remember him, even if you no longer care — he would chase you.

Tim doesn't necessarily remember the first time he met you.

Perhaps it had been when he first joined the tower under Dick's help to see you peering from behind his brother, arms wrapped around his arm, Dick's hand on your waist — or maybe it was when he caught you making out with Jason in an alleyway after patrol had ended. Or even, it could have been that time you sat on his father's lap without thinking twice to take over whatever he had been doing on the computer. Tim knew you as bad news. That's all he needed to know about you. He didn't want anything to do with you.

But despite all of it, Tim does remember the first time he met you.

He met you long before he had ever been Red Robin, before he had even considered taking the title of Robin, long before he had discovered Robin had been Dick Grayson. He had met you in his parents' backyard on a playdate while your families discussed business. He had met you under the comfort of the spring breeze, the sun of a splendid day, the greenest grass between your fingers and the warmth of the earth. He had met you with round cheeks and short legs, the two of you making dirt soup in the comfort of his garden. The two of you refused to taste it and watched as the water continued to sink into the grass each time.

"d'ya think we're drowning the plants." You blink, remembering something from your teacher.

"No way." He grumbles. "Not enough water to drown them."

Timothy Jackson Drake met you when he was five years old in his family's backyard.

As much as he denied the fact, he would not have traded it for anything else in the world.

You had been close, he admits. Holding hands as he showed you around the garden the next time you came over, helping you climb up into his treehouse, scribbling on the walls of your initials and his with a heart surrounding the two, mumbling hushed secrets that only five-year-olds could tell, giggling and laughing at each other in the small wooden room. But you scribbled other things. You scribbled animals and shapes and colors and designs and the whole universe on the blank canvases of white paper he would give you. Characters named after him, after his friends, after the stars. Everything you drew held a certain life to it, and Tim had been in love with it as much as a five-year-old could.

The two of you shared the kitchen counter as you raced each other to complete your math homework, years ahead of your own age group, head spinning as Tim tried to teach you long division at five, his own head spinning when you showed him how to do algebra. It's how it had been for so long, the kitchen island being the two of you's safe space away from school and the other pressures of socializing. Tim didn't have to smile at lying adults when he had you in his house.

But your friendship didn't stop there.

Children in their mother's arms, holding hands as your two families posed for a photo with the Flying Graysons. You had told Tim shyly that you found Richard Grayson attractive, flushed cheeks, as any five-year-old girl would have said. It was under your breath once away from the family. He looked back at the acrobat and then at you, striking you with a "he's too old for you" causing you to drop your jaw and smack him. It would have been a fight had your mother not stepped in immediately and had you apologize for hitting him. You did it with a pout on your lip, and Tim had blown a raspberry at you. You probably would have given him a middle finger if you knew how to do one.

The same held when the two of you watched the rope snap and the two adults fall to their deaths.

You let out a scream, trying desperately to reach at the falling acrobats, your mother holding onto you for dear life, begging you to not, chanting it over and over again like a mantra, true fear in her eyes, not from the deaths, but out of fear that you would do something. Tim's heart broke, but he didn't fail to notice the way you yelled at your mother immediately after the two families separated, arguing that the deaths were unnecessary and there was no way they would have died had you stepped in. Your mother hushed you instead, telling you to keep your mouth shut in public, and Tim wondered if there was something different about you.

Not that he would ever get to see you again.

Your mother had dropped by one afternoon, without you, three weeks after the show, a box of her cookies with her and an apology on her lips, letting his own mother know that the two of you were moving. Tim had watched from the couch, the documentary running in the back long tuned out, his face frowning. You were nowhere in sight. He'd never get to see you again. You didn't even come see him as a goodbye. Maybe you were still in a bad mood from the death. Yet, as more and more excuses conjured in his brain for you, he wondered why. It still hurt. You were his only friend. The frown was present on his face even when he went to bed.

His mother, later on, told him (one night while he was half asleep) that the two of you were running away, not moving. That it was dangerous for a mother and daughter to live alone in Gotham without spectacular wealth like him. That there was never any family fortune to begin with and that your mother nearly lost the custody battle. You didn't see him not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to. She had pressed a kiss to his forehead, not before letting him know that he would start boarding school soon. (He didn't want to go)

Tim never got to ask why.

Instead, the next time the two of you meet, the two of you are fourteen, and Tim's grapple has just been cut by someone. He wonders how far Batman is, and he wonders if he could just reach onto the brick wall next to him. He can't. So, he presses the button on his suit, alerting Batman. Maybe he'd be able to get him before he'd break his spine or something. He prays his line is still active. Hopefully Oracle had some way of helping him. Maybe even Nightwing would be able to swing in.

"Oracle-" His voice breaks, wind in his mic. "Where's the Bat? My grapple got cut. Criminal heading southeast on—"

"I'm on it." Another voice cuts in on the line, and he pauses as he lands on the ground gently, looking around him. He hears the sound of moving behind him, but he isn't able to see anything from the darkness. They blended in better than the bat himself. He fell from the twentieth floor and landed as if he had jumped off the first floor of an elementary school playground. The sound disappears just as quickly as if had appeared.

"We have an emergency support?"

Batman nods at him. "Portal."

"Who's Portal?"

"Not sure myself." He hands Robin a new grapple, and he nods. "Do not do that again."

"Yes, B."

So, as Tim steps back into the Batcave for the night, he finds himself clicking on the mic again. "Oracle?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know who Portal is?"

The end of the line is silent.

"No. Sorry."

"How'd we meet them?"

"They appeared one day," Oracle hums. "Nightwing had slipped on his footing and appeared back on the roof immediately as he had opened his mouth. Then it happened once with B, then with me, and a handful of times with Jason."

Tim nods. "Can I dig into them?"

"Without their knowledge." Oracle laughs. "Though hard. They're on the line right now, right?"

A third voice joins. "Mhm."

"Are you alright with it?"

Their voice is distorted. A voice changer. "You won't find anything on me."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It can be."

"If you find anything about me, you show me your face." Tim grins.

"And if you fail within a week, you'll stop trying to figure out who I am."

"Deal."

Tim finds himself cooped up in his room for the rest of the week, searching through voice files, body cam footage, anything that might give him a lead on you. He finds nothing. Just your voice. So, he tries putting the distorted voice through a filter for your voice and matching it to someone in the files. No one. Not even in the FBI database. Tim finishes patrol a week later, sighing into the lines. He found nothing. You won.

"So? Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Oh. I was hoping you could help me figure it out." The voice on the line goes silent.

"Huh?"

You don't speak on line ever again after that.

Tim pauses when he recalls you called him by first name. Not Robin. But it's strange. Unless you were some genius, there was no way you would have been able to— ah. It seems he's forgotten something important to him. Yet the name sticks in the back of his mind, not daring to let it tumble from past his lips after so many damned years of being apart. It'll be something he holds in himself until you would appear one day. He doesn't know. Maybe he'll never see you physically again. He doesn't understand why the longing, but he supposes it's what he deserves.

So, the two of you meet at fourteen and that was it. Tim triple-checks his equipment before leaving, upgrades after upgrades being made. He fears there will never be a need to call you ever again.

Except that isn't the end.

The next time Tim sees you, he gets to see you. The two of you are eighteen, and Tim is finally getting to meet you, put a name to your face. Your hands are around Dick's arm, peering at him, mask on your face as Tim stares straight at you, eyes digging into you, neither of you breaking eye contact as Dick had just finished reintroducing Tim to the team. You blink at him slowly, lashes fluttering, and Tim curses the way his heart skips a beat as you do. Then, Dick moves on to introduce you. You still don't move. Neither of you do.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Tim's heart crawls up his throat at the nickname tumble from his brother's lips.

"Have I met him before?" You blink at Dick, doe-eyed. Tim feels weird at the look.

"Not during the time that you've been with us." He hums, letting you step out. "This is Portal. Our emergency contact."

"Oh." Tim finally puts two and two together, body moving on its own, rushing over to clasp his hand on top of yours, words tumbling out before he can think. "We've met before. We grew up together."

"Oh." You blink at him owlishly, and Tim's breath catches in his throat all over again. "I... don't remember. Sorry."

"Portal was found half dead on the ground when she was nine." Dick hums. "Retrograde amnesia."

Tim lets go, staring as your eyes linger on your hand for a little longer.

"Pleased to meet you." You smile at him, lips pulled into a gentle smile. He can't see your eyes behind the mask, so how much more different you must look now is left to his imagination. Not to mention the way it was hard to register you in general. Huh. Speaking of which, he can't really see you. Strange.

"You can't see Portal without the new masks." Dick tosses him another domino mask, an exact replica of his current one, and he puts it on, your presence flashing away and then back as he does. He pauses at the sight of you. No — He can't. He doesn't deserve to.

He really wonders, for a moment, if it was even possible to rekindle the friendship you had with him so many years ago. Maybe you would have preferred to forget.

"Red Robin's in charge while I'm gone." Dick drops something in your hand, the object passing through your hand and disappearing before he presses his lips to the corner of yours. "If you need me, ask Portal."

Tim stares at you, blinking slowly.

"Slept with the whole team before, huh?"

You raise a brow at him, expression dropping. "Really?"

"Why else would my brother kiss you?"

"So that equates to the whole team? I thought you were the smart Robin." You sigh.

"Does he know you're such a bitch?"

"Gee, and I thought we were hitting it off well." You deadpan. "No. I'm sleeping with your brother."

"Did you really forget everything?" Tim takes a step toward you.

"Yes." You sigh. "It's been nine years. I gave up on remembering."

"Yeah?" another step.

"Mhm." You tilt your head to stare at him.

"Do you remember your mom?"

"Died in the mugging."

"And your dad?"

"Out of the picture."

"And me?"

You look at Tim through your lashes as he stares at you, forehead now on yours, eyes falling to your lips. God, he could kiss you right now. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. He doesn't even think his own emotions are anything far from obsession over an old friend, but he's sure you're not just a friend to him because the things he would do to you if you would just let him. He's nothing short of obsessed. Shit. He's not supposed to be like this. His lips brush yours as your breath hitches, his own mirroring you. He likes you more than he could admit.

"Robin, was it?"

"Tim, for you." and he presses his lips to yours.

Tim wonders if among the tangled sheets and fingers, you could remember him. It's selfish of him, nipping at your bottom lip and pressing his skin to yours, mumbling memories across your skin, eyes gentle and soft despite the lack of romance between the two of you. It could be one-sided. It could take forever, even if he were asked. He would have waited for that long. He would have waited however long it took. Even if it took an eternity. He would have spent said eternity in your arms, reminding you of every moment if that's what it took.

But Tim returns to Gotham in a short while after that, the taste of your lips lingering on his, staring out at the city on rare peaceful nights, fingers pressed to his lips, still remembering you. On certain nights he finds himself sitting on the roofs, wondering if he called you, maybe you would come. Just a gentle cry for help to Oracle, and then you'd appear. He'd pull you to his lap, pressing his lips to yours until you'd get for him to touch you in some way, and then he'd tease you, getting you drunk off the same feeling he had when you were around him. He'd have you beg for him the same way he begged for you.

He wonders if you feel the same as him.

The next time Tim gets to see you, you're in an alleyway, Red Hood's arms on you, mask abandoned somewhere on the ground, domino mask still on. Tim watches. He has no reason to interfere. Your fingers are tangled in Jason's hair, his own hands flush on your waist, both of your lines turned off, presumably. He can't hear the two of you make out, and he's sure that Babs and the others wouldn't want to either. Your eyes are half-lidded, mouths messy against each other, and Tim reaches up to his mask, requesting Oracle to send his voice to you two's line and stares down. He has no reason to interfere, but maybe he wanted you for himself.

"Red, isn't it a little improper to be making out with someone during patrol?" His lips curl into a smirk as he finishes.

He watches as Jason pulls away, scowling at the sound of Tim's voice, and he watches as your eyes meet his, mouth shiny with your messed up lip gloss and a broken strand of saliva fresh on your lips. You disappear as fast as you reappear, pulling Tim from the edge, pressing your lips to his, the taste of Jason's last cigarette still fresh in your mouth, catching Tim off guard as you nip at his bottom lip, tongue pressing into his mouth. Tim collects himself just as quickly, a hand finding itself on your face while the other rested on your waist, leading you to a wall.

Your back presses against the brick as Tim's hand moves to your face, tilting your head to give himself more access to your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he stares at your closed eyes and pretty lashes. He brushes over your cheek gently, again and again until you lean further into him, chest pressed to his impossibly closer, moaning quietly as he moves a hand back to your hair, fingers digging into your scalp, pulling on the strands, still tilting your head so he could completely devour you. He grasps onto you harder, lips on yours, brain spinning with lust, drunk off of your lips, desperate to savor every last piece of you, desperate to smother you until you could remember who he was to you. To kiss you until the only thing you could think of in your day-to-day life was how good his lips felt against your own.

You pull away first, lack of air getting to you, Tim chasing your lips as you hold him at an arm's length away, head hung as you try to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, the mess of your chapstick even more evident. Tim glances down to see what he can of you, licking his lips to try and see if your lip gloss was flavored. cherry. He'd make a mess of you each time if it meant you would look so blissed out just from making out with him. Maybe you'd look even better from below, his head between your thighs, just like—

"Red Robin, where are you?"

"I'm with Portal." He answers as you finally straighten, collecting the mess of spit and lipgloss around your mouth, staring him dead in the eye as you lick it off your fingers, giving him a show.

"I bet you were making out with her, huh?" Jason's voice rings on the line, and Tim opens his mouth for a retort as you press your palm to his lips, leaning into where his mic was, smirk on your lips.

"And if he was?" Tim notices that your mic has been turned off, and he jumps in his skin as Dick's voice registers in his ear.

It's a shriek.

The sound adjusts itself in his ear so that it doesn't blow his eardrums, and he pauses, staring at the way you stared at him at the witches' hour, lips pulled into a gentle smile, the stars in your eyes, rendering Tim breathless. He steps back at you, hand brushing your hair out of your eyes, staring down at you, breath caught in his own throat. Oh, if only he could have you the way he wanted to. The way he wanted to wake up and press his face into your bare skin under the rays of the sun — the way where he would clutch you close under the kisses of the moon after patrol, his arms wrapped around you to thank you for the morning.

But he can't have you that way. Not yet.

You tilt your head at him as he exhales, pressing his forehead to yours again, resting his eyes for a moment.

"I can take you home." You blink at him.

"Please, Portal." Your name sounds like a prayer tumbling from his lips, one begging to have all of you. His hands don't move from your face.

You open a portal underneath his feet, sending the two of you to the Batcave, and you shake yourself free from his grasp, once again disappearing from his vision. He sighs, turning on his heel, getting ready to head upstairs.

"So, Portal?" He pauses in his stripping to stare at Dick. "No judgement, of course."

"What judgement is there? You've hooked up with her before."

"Once."

"She said you were hooking up."

"Oh, no. She was far too invested in something she lost for us to actually be something under a relationship." Dick throws Tim a towel.

"And Jason?"

"She was testing something." Jason grins, emerging from the showers. "She was right. Where's my phone?"

Dick tosses it to him.

"Owe her twenty."

"What was she betting on?"

The two share a glance and then stare at Tim.

"Do you know why you couldn't find anything on her when you tried so many years ago?"

"What does this-"

It clicks all of a sudden.

The next time Tim sees you, you hop onto Batman's lap like it's nothing, taking over the computer without asking him to move. He watches as your fingers fly over the keyboard and search bar, finding the files that Batman had thought he had trashed. You had a way for everything, even if it was no longer on the computer. He could do that, but watching you do it was so much more attractive. Especially when you were bent over the desk like that, ass in the air. He glances at his dad and the fact that he looks unbothered, still staring up at the big computer as you continue to type in lines of code to try and break through the lock.

"Who does this belong to again?"

"Red needs it for Penguin."

"Double R or Red?"

"Red."

"Ah!" You grin as the password is cracked, and you lick your lips as you step off of Batman, the man ruffling your hair as he clicks into the files to find the one Jason needed. Tim frowns. It's dad. It's a sign of fatherly affection. His own father isn't into you, yet he finds himself taking deep breaths to calm himself anyway, fingers reaching for yours, pressing them to his lips. He finds himself doing things he wouldn't for anyone else for you. Only for you. For the little girl who sat in a treehouse and drew characters out of cartoons — for the young woman in his arms in the tower, lips pressed to his in the dead of the night, body between his hands like a midnight's memory, one that would be gone with the wind.

You blink at him as you always have, owlishly, doe-eyed, questioning his intent with that faux innocence you showed the vast majority of the world. He lowers it, running his thumb over the back of your hand in circles, a thoughtless smile on his lips, fingers brushing over your ring finger unconsciously. If anyone notices, they don't mention anything, letting him bask in the moment of domesticity, even if it were fake and something out of a movie that the two of you did not live in. Even if the two of you did ever get to experience a moment like that, it would be far into the future, the day Gotham would be safer.

If that day ever did come.

"What would you do if the moon collapses on us all one day?"

You stare at him.

Tim opens his mouth to explain the question, only for you to cut him off.

"I would put Gotham on the runway."

Tim meets you again many years later. He receives a letter from you detailing Paris Fashion Week, inviting "Mr. Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne", which you added in invisible ink afterward, sounded like too much of a mouthful. Tim had always known to check your letters for it, so he wasn't surprised. He tells his assistant to email you a confirmation, that yes he would join you for the event. He stares at the spot reserved for him, pulling up the official list and checking whether or not he would be sitting next to you.

He's excited.

Not that he's never seen you draw or sketch since the treehouse, but he's excited to see what kind of fashion you're bringing to this world. On the plane, he's suddenly five again, scribbling images from his memories, the characters you had named after him, the characters you had named after your friends, every single critter, shapes still familiar on his fingers and the ballpoint pen he had thoroughly spent by the end of the flight. He realizes he forgot to sleep on the plane.

As if you had known, Tim is provided with a pillow and blanket on the car ride to your studio, just a little over an hour outside of Paris, giving him plenty of time to sleep in. He wakes up as the car stops, thanking the driver in French, though unfamiliar on his tongue. He wonders if you speak fluently. He assumes you must, given how you had told him you'd cover the languages he didn't.

The first thing he hears from your mouth is Chinese, voice still the same soothing honey he's grown to know, and you're talking to one of your assistants while telling another one in French to bring something. The only way he can tell is because you point at the closet and then at him. You finish with the first one, giving the French one a thumbs up when she brings out a suit as you reach for Tim's face, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw as you touch him.

"Hey." You smile.

"I'm here for my fitting."

"Mhm."

Tim finds that you look gorgeous no matter what you're doing. You help him into the outfit, the measurements both from his aide and from previously when you had taken his measurements before, and you exhale in relief as he fits. You click your tongue as an assistant hands you a paintbrush, and Tim's eyes widen in fear as you reach to start painting over his suit.

Your name feels foreign on his lips.

"Yeah?" You blink up at him. He's so much taller than you now that he's on the pedestal.

"Are you going to paint over the fabric?"

"That's the point, Tim," You part your lips. "Do you just want to wear white?"

"No, um."

"Do you have an idea on what you want?"

"Kind of?"

You let his aide hand you the sketches he had made on the plane, and you grin.

"Do you mind matching with me if you want these?"

"Oh, lovely." He swallows as he scans your face for a reaction. "You don't need to ask. It's always a yes."

"I'm glad you're not as bulky as Jason or Bruce." You hum, starting at his collar, the characters tumbling out of your hand like molten gold, as if you had been Rumplestiltskin, spinning straw into gold. But you wouldn't have been him, you would have been his fairy godmother, magic tumbling from your wand, granting all of his wishes without asking anything of him. He follows your face as you draw little characters all over his clothes, the little characters scattered throughout. You pull the pen off of him with a click, stepping back to look at the design. He wonders if you'll notice how he's more chiseled now, just for you.

"Have you been bodybuilding?"

"More exercise than before, yeah." He smiles at you.

You grin, lowering your voice. "You wanted me to notice. Just for me?"

"Just for you."

You blink at him in surprise. You weren't expecting him to actually affirm you. "Alright. We'll keep your suit overnight and in two days time, Christine," you motion at another aide, "will be helping you get ready with the makeup team."

"And you?" Taking your hand, he steps down from the pedestal.

"We will leave together." You press a kiss to his other jaw this time. "Hm?"

Tim lowers his voice, pulling you close to hold his lips to your ear. "and after?"

"If you're on your best behavior," You press a hand to his chest, pushing yourself back gently. "maybe I'll give you a treat."

Tim smiles. "Sounds good to me."

You wave bye at him as he returns to his hotel room, heart racing in his chest, the feeling of your hands still lingering on his face. And he was hopeless, as he always had been in the face of you. Only you could bring him to his knees to this degree, heart racing in his chest with an aching for you, desperate to have you. Any way. Have you in his arms, hands, lips on yours, skin pressed to yours — anything as long as it's you. anything. Anything as long as his fingers are entwined with yours and his skin is with you.

Two days pass in a blur, Tim lifting his face slightly as the makeup artist pats the foundation on his face, his eyes meeting your aide's as she explains (in perfect English) why he was wearing what he was, and how your designs were all channeling the true spirit of Gotham, from the deaths to the life to the children shielded constantly from nightmares that rested in their hands, including the ones left on the street to rot as a result of the corrupted justice system. There was everything in between there. Tim glances at some of the designs that you were showcasing, ready to watch the show.

He closes his eyes as the makeup artist starts drawing on his skin, the ceiling light reflecting off of his skin, the sound of your laughter as a child ringing in his ears as he stares at himself in the mirror. He looks clean and shaven, skin taken care of perfectly, almost as though he had never once scratched or hurt himself. The lack of scars on his hands and any part of skin showing was only further proof of it. Ah. So you were showing off your set, even until the end of time.

"You are the children of the elite."

He understands immediately.

That meant something else for you.

You meet him in the car, sitting on the inside, turning to glance at him. Your outfit is surprisingly clean for the children of the streets.

"We're quite the different tale, hm?" He smiles.

"You ever walked a runway?" You raise a brow at him.

"Once. I was very young back then."

"Great." You smile. "You'll be walking."

"Without a rehersal?"

"There will be a sized down one backstage as the other ones walk." You click on your tablet, showing him the formation, pressing a hand to his thigh as you lean over. "The two of us will be weaving through all the models. They all stop at a certain position."

"So it's like an art gallery."

"Almost. We're the last two to walk." You bat your lashes at him.

"Is that why you told me depending on my behavior?"

"You better break a sweat faking this, or else don't even think about getting a kiss later." You smile sweetly as the car stops. Tim steps out first, holding his hand out for you, and you follow him as the two of you walk down the carpet, waving at a couple of paparazzi, hand fit snugly on his forearm. Tim is sure to nod at the paparazzi as he passes, ignoring all of their questions. You stop him when the two of you need to take a photo, the same paparazzi smile he's seen you flash so many times as Portal on your face, and he flashes one of his own, practiced for the cameras, just like his father. He wonders if you invited anyone else.

The two of you head backstage as you change out of the outfit into another one, stepping outside to greet everyone with a bow, a word of thanks, and then tucking yourself back into the walls as the models start walking. You change back into the outfit you wore previously, three makeup artists decorating your face. Doodles straight out of the white paper left in his abandoned treehouse. Characters out of the ballpoint pen he wasted on the plane. He looks like the exact personification of the children of Gotham. Something innocent yet sinister about your entire outfit. You were the children on the street, stealing, grabbing, robbing, doing anything if it meant you could survive another day in the harsh winter and dried summers. It meant doing errands for mobsters that would lead to gold or death.

He finds it strange that you still look so pretty even with the graffiti of Gotham on your face.

He pauses at the pen in everyone's hands.

"Sharpie?"

"Eyeliner." You glance at the models as they walk out one by one, pulling your tablet out again, showing Tim how to weave through the models, pointing at the cameras as well, showing him the formation. "We meet at the end."

It's well thought out on your end. It may seem childish, but the route that boys and girls in Gotham took was still tragically different in all the worst ways, and you were desperate to show that. It was a fashion show in an art gallery, so you were going to make it an art show. Tim and you stand on both sides, hands pushing both of you out at the same time as the two of you weave through the models, and your pacing gets significantly fast, more frantic, brows furrowed, tugging at the jacket, desperate to cover more, heels clicking on the floor that you step on, eventually breaking into a full run as if something were chasing you. Tim walks, speeding up significantly less than you, gripping the knife in his hand, and the two of you eventually meet in the middle, you crashing into his chest as the two of you hold weapons to each other. You had picked up a gun along the way and he still had the knife in his hand.

The two of you stay still, pointing the weapons at each other — the crowd pausing.

You fire the gun at him.

The baggy clothes on the models all drop, revealing the rambunctious outfits only fit for nightlife for the Gotham elite, the splendid galas and parties at manors, the models all starting their walk again, Tim leading the men, you leading the women. You press your hand to his shoulder sweetly as you pass him, that smile on your face again. The show goes on, the actual outfits now on display instead of the streets of Gotham. No one bothers picking up the discarded clothes. The streets were dirty, and that would never change. You step behind the drapes as they move to wipe the makeup from you, changing you into your final outfit to step onto the stage once the models were all gone. You sit in place, Tim standing to the side, watching as the eyeliner is removed.You can feel his eyes trailed on your skin. You wonder what he's thinking.

You step up as all the models return, the show wrapping up as you show yourself at the end again, thanking everyone for joining you. Tim finds the smile on your face to be still fake, nothing like the one he's grown used to, yet he finds some sort of honesty behind it. You look dazzling under the lights. The city of Gotham is apparent all over you and the models you had hired, all of them out of the city itself. Even as none of the trashed clothes are taken care of on the runway until everyone leaves. He wonders if Bruce would have liked this show, had he been invited. He's sure you extended an invite to him. Yet it doesn't matter. Tim had been the one to be with you.

"Is there an afterparty?" He presses his hand to your lower back, backstage, getting ready to leave. The lights have dimmed by now.

"Yeah." You yawn, blinking slowly. "I'm not going."

"Really?" He tilts his head at you.

You press a kiss to his nose, hand tracing his jaw. "I said I'd reward you if you were good."

"Was I?"

"The best." You smile at him saccharinely and Tim wants nothing but to have you.

Tim finds that you haven't changed much since the last time he had his hands on you.

Your skin is still soft in his hand, the plush of your thigh familiar as he kisses you feverishly, tongue shoved so far down your throat he's sure he'd go straight to hell just for the kiss. He finds himself tugging at the zipper of your dress, hands sliding it down your waist as you whimper at the cold without the fabric, the silk pooling at your feet. He leads you out of the dress, lifting your thigh to help you out, mumbling for you to jump against your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist as he continued at your lips, sex pressing in the air.

"Pretty, pretty girl," He groans as you loosen the tie around his neck, pulling it over his head as you slide the buttons out quickly, pressing your lips to his neck and biting. Tim relaxes in your touch, letting your fingers roam his skin as you peel the dress shirt off of him, lips red on his skin, sucking and biting at it, Tim moaning as you do. He glances at the way your teeth dig into his pecs, marks visible as you pull away, glancing at your artwork on his skin.

"My turn," He mumbles against your skin, holding your head gently tilting it to get access to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips wrapping around it, sucking hickeys over your neck and collar, the red bound to turn purple sometime overnight, the thought sending blood straight to Tim's head, his lashes fluttering against your skin. You bite back your moans as Tim continues his ministrations, head spinning with all the things he could do to you at the moment. He's waited so long to have you again.

Instead, he finds himself on his knees for you, lips pressed to your cunt, nose bumping your clit as he eats you out, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, drinking in every sound that slipped past your lips as his fingers curled into you the way he knew you liked it, your body reacting the same as so many years ago. Your fingers tug at his hair, the gel long washed off in the shower, his makeup removed as soon as the two of you had arrived back at the hotel. His name spills out of your lips like a mantra, begging him to let you cum, legs shaking with you pressed against the wall. He will admit. He might've gotten a little impatient.

"Tim, Tim," You whimper. "'m close."

He hums, tongue in your pussy, the vibrations drumming against your clit, and he moves another hand to circle at your clit, fingers and tongue speeding up, making you cum with a broken cry and tightening of your fingers in his hair, his tongue never stopping lapping at your cum, hands moving back to hold your legs apart for him to finish with you, only leaving position once he was sure there was none left, your slick messy on his nose and chin as he used his fingers to wipe it off, staring you in the eye as he licked it off of his hand.

"God," You mumble, pressing him onto the bed, pulling his belt off in a swift motion with his pants, hands reaching for the rest of your cum on his face and spitting into it, using it as lube, running your hand up and down Tim's length, eyes glued to it as you press down the slit to collect his precum, the erection angry with red, making you swallow. You lift yourself gently, bottoming him out in one swift motion, a moan and a choke breaking out past your lips as you do, digging your chin into Tim's shoulder. His hands trace gentle circles on your waist, lifting you with ease to put you underneath him, lacing his fingers with yours, thrusting slowly.

"Fuck me like you mean it, Drake." You hiss at him. He didn't have any intent to speed up.

The use of his last name as Tim irritated, hips snapping into yours, instantly much more talkative than before. "Drake? Really? After all of this time," His grip on your hand tightens, lowering his lips to your ear, his breaths against your ear, "I shouldn't be Drake to you. It's Tim," He snaps his hips again, causing you to curl forward, "and I'll make sure you know that's what you should be screaming." He leans back up, hand pressed next to you, plowing into you, mess of slick, sweat and cum staining silk sheets, your other hand gripping said sheets to the point of your knuckles turning white, toes curling. "Now scream my name, pretty girl."

You hadn't known he was capable of this, but you follow his orders, his name breaking past your lips with each thrust, mindless blabbering slipping down your tongue onto his, even when he swoops down to kiss you, tongue in your mouth, giving you a taste of what was left of yourself on his tongue. The sex in the air hangs hard as Tim continues drilling into you, both hands moved to your hips this time, helping himself control the rhythm better, eyes zeroed in on your face as your eyes threaten to flutter shut from him, eyes rolled to the back as he moves a hand down.

"'m close- 'm close!" You cry.

"Yeah? Come on, pretty girl." His thumb finds itself on your clit again, smirking at the way you clench around him. "Cum for me. Tell everyone who's making you feel so good."

You cry his name as you arch your back, tears staining your cheeks and lips bruised from the kissing, spit visible on the corner of your lips, begging for him to slow down as he chases his own orgasm, Tim zoning you out, thumb still on your clit, desperate for his own release. You claw at his hand as you feel another orgasm threatening to break past, Tim holding both hands down with the other as he feels your walls flutter around him again, squeezing him as you cum again, messier this time, squirting all over his hips as he feels his own orgasm coming. He opts to pull out, only for you to wrap your arms around his neck, begging for him to fill you. "'m yours, please, Tim." You moan into his ear.

Tim spills into you with a stutter of his hips, biting on your shoulder as he does, warmth flooding your cunt as you exhale in bliss. The sheets are ruined and you're sure the hotel is going to fine you, but it isn't an issue. Not if the workers don't rat on you. You let go of Tim as he pulls out of you, pressing gentle kisses to your skin, eyes tired.

"Not enough sleep?"

"Surprised I fucked you without accidentally passing out." He smiles against your skin.

"We need to shower again." You grimace. "We're going to be all disgusting in the morning."

Tim rests his head on your chest, eyes closing. "Love?"

"Yeah?"

"Go out with me?"

"About time."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," You press a kiss to his hair. "For you? Always."

And as the moon and stars whisper to each other of the two of you, limbs tangled together, kisses from the moonlight fresh on both of you's skins as you sit in the bathtub together, helping each other wash off, thoughtless giggles on both of your minds and mindless kisses pressed on each other's skin as you rinse each other off, you both find something back in your life you both missed. The warmth of each other's skin and arms wrapped around each other, just as you had done as kids, you do now, a reminder of the love you've both shared. Tim finds that you don't need to remember him. You just needed to love him.

And love him you do.

#red robin x reader #dc x reader #tim drake x reader #literally how do you tag for dc like deadass rn tim and drake r not like nagito n komaeda he has no discerning factors hello #timothy drake x reader #guys I hate this why is joining a new fandom n writing for it so scary #☾.nsfw #☾.fics

[stiltonbasket]

jzx, seeing yanli carrying around baby a-yuan: oh. Oh.

Also, the idea of A-yuan being surprisingly tolerant of jzx while his a-niang and jiang-shushu have never felt more Betrayed™️.

Thank you very much for ur cultivation baby sizhui au i am in love!!!!!!!

As is the way of things when one happens to be the heir to a sect, no one has ever dared to hurt Jin Zixuan's feelings.

Of course, he argued with his mother sometimes; and when he was a child, he tried to quarrel with his father about the women he brought into Koi Tower. Those arguments never turned in Zixuan’s favor, but no one but his father has ever tried to insinuate that he was wrong about something important: and when the first person to do so turns out to be Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan spends the next two weeks in a state of abject shame.

He had misjudged Maiden Jiang, badly. He never knew her to be dishonest in their childhood, and she had never been proud—but Zixuan was flattered by the notion that someone would take the trouble to make him soup on a battlefield, and when he saw the girl who delivered the first bowl, Jiang Yanli seemed weaker and more talentless than ever in comparison. She could not fight, and she was not beautiful; and her pursuit of Jin Zixuan into battle seemed poorly done, when there were other women who had come to fight or elected to remain at home to defend their sect strongholds.

“Do you have anything in that thick skull of yours? Anything at all?” Wei Wuxian had demanded, on the day Zixuan insulted Jiang-guniang for bringing him soup. “She has two brothers at the front, and you think she’s here for you? Do you think you’d even get to see her face if Nie-zongzhu sent me and Jiang Cheng somewhere else?”

Jin Zixuan had been a fool. He considered Jiang Yanli’s affections as his by rights, even when he thought he did not want them; and now that he did, it would be shameless to pursue her considering their broken engagement.

Just the other day, he had seen her walking around camp with Wei Wuxian’s child in her arms, and the picture she made was so devastatingly beautiful that Zixuan wished he could strangle the younger version of himself that thought her plain.

“It’s nobody’s fault but your own,” Mianmian said mercilessly, when Jin Zixuan asked for her advice on the day before they departed for the Nightless City. “No one asked you to treat her coldly when we were children, or insult her at the Cloud Recesses. No one forced you to reject her cooking, either. You’re reaping your own rewards, gongzi, and you won’t get any sympathy from me.”

“I know I don’t deserve your sympathy. I don’t deserve Jiang-guniang’s love, either,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “But surely—surely I could apologize to her? Her feelings must still be wounded, and I haven’t done anything about it.”

“The time to make apologies was months ago,” she snapped. “Frankly, I don’t see how marrying you could make Jiang-guniang happy now. Let it go.”

So Jin Zixuan let it go, knowing that the bitterness of losing Jiang Yanli was nothing compared to all that she had endured at his hands. But then, a bare twenty-four hours after Wen Ruohan was finally slain, he meets her in the compound of the Sun Palace reserved for recovering cultivators, and stops dead in his tracks; for she has Wei Wuxian’s son tied to her back in a sling, and the baby had seized one of the gold peony chains dangling from Jin Zixuan’s guan as he passed by.

“Oh!” Jiang Yanli exclaims. “Pardon me, Jin-gongzi. Yuanyuan, let go of his hair.”

The baby—Yuanyuan, Jiang-guniang said—does not let go. Instead, he winds his tiny fists around the end of the chain and pulls it towards his mouth.

“Bu!” he shrieks, when Jin Zixuan tries to free himself. Unnerved, Zixuan drops his hand and edges a little closer; he hates listening to babies’ cries, and this baby’s crying kept their regiment from sleep on so many nights that most of the Jin cultivators refuse to go anywhere near him.

Jiang-guniang reaches up and pries Yuanyuan’s left hand open. But the minute she reaches for the right one, the left hand clamps back down on Jin Zixuan’s hair.

“I’ll just give it to him. I’ve got others,” Jin Zixuan squeaks, his face burning. “It won’t take long, Lady Jiang.”

He detaches the guan and its six gold chains from his bun, letting his long dark hair fall free, and then he puts it back up with a spare hairpin and gives his guan to the baby.

“Here,” he says, and then, when she opens her mouth to thank him:

“It was no trouble,” Zixuan blurts out. “It’s just a guan, and he’s only a baby.”

Jiang Yanli gives him a kind smile and steps past him, heading towards the house where Wei Wuxian is convalescing.

But Wei Yuan, apparently unsatisfied with the peony chains now that they were his and not Zixuan’s, wriggles up and hangs the guan over Jiang Yanli’s ear.

“Pitty,” he coos, rubbing his tiny cheek against hers.

In that very moment, the sun emerges from behind a veil of rosy clouds; and when it falls upon Jiang Yanli, the light strikes the golden peony blossoms in her hair, and fills her big eyes with a gentle fire that nearly brings Jin Zixuan to his knees.

“Mianmian,” he gasps, after he staggers back to the Jins’ guest compound and collapses on the floor by his bed. “Mianmian, I need help. I love Jiang-guniang, I do—even if her affections for me have faded. I won’t press her—I could never press her, even if I had not disrespected her so in the past. But if I have the slightest, slimmest chance, then maybe—”

Mianmian looks supremely unimpressed.

“Get up,” she sighs, a little while later. “Very well, I’ll help you.”

Jin Zixuan bolts upright. “Then you think she might accept me?”

“Why do you think I told you to stay away from her?” scolds Mianmian. “If she’d learned her lesson after that business with the soup, I wouldn’t have bothered. I warned you off for her sake, Zixuan, because Jiang-guniang still loves you.”

Jin Zixuan gawks at her, wonderstruck, and bursts into tears.

#xuanli #jin zixuan #jiang yanli #lan sizhui #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mianmian #cultivation baby sizhui au #my fic #!!!!! cultivation baby au is back! #also on a more humorous note #wwx be like: is it crack you smoke??? you smoke crack???? #re: jzx and the soup incident

[howlingday]

Hyena!Faunus Ruby SUPERPOST

Weiss: UGH! WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!

Ruby: Me~!

Blake: Urp! Did you roll around in trash?!

Ruby: Yup~!

Yang: Uh, why?

Ruby: Because I am the leader~!

Fun Fact! Hyenas will roll around in dung and carcasses they've found. The exact reason is unknown, though one theory states that the action serves as a means of improving their status within the group.

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Weiss: Ruby, I need you to stay away... I'm incredibly sick, and-

Ruby: (Finishing Weiss' soup) Pah! Sorry, did you say something, Weiss?

Weiss: ...I'm gonna throw up.

Fun Fact! Hyenas are immune to almost every disease, including anthrax and rabies. It is believed this was a development in their evolution to improve their role as scavengers. There have even been cases in which trash consumed by the hyenas helps improve human immunity by removing harmful pathogens and preventing them from spreading, such as anthrax and bovine tuberculosis.

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Ruby: You gonna eat that?

Yang: (Hands over steak bone) Nah, you go ahead.

Ruby: (Crunches bone)

Blake: ...Wow.

Yang: You think that's impressive? Wait 'til it comes out!

Ruby: (Mouth full of bone shards) Yeng, dun be grosh!

Fun Fact! Hyenas will eat and digest bones. This diet results in their dung not only being nearly completely white, but also rich in calcium, which is good for soil, and contain bone shards used by birds for nests.

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

Yang: Ruby Rose!

Ruby: (Gulps)

Yang: I thought you grew out of your teething phase!

Ruby: I did!

Yang: (Holding up a half-eaten rubber eraser) Then what's this?!

Ruby: ...Treat?

Yang: NO TREAT!

Fun Fact! Although there are health benefits to having hyenas around, they are still considered a pest for their tendency to chew on and eat rubber, such as from tires of airplanes. This is especially enticing to hyenas when there is dung on them. This behavior can negatively impact humans to the point plane wheels are protected with barbed wire!

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Ruby: Jaune! Jaune!

Jaune: Mm, what? (Yawns) What time is... (Looks around, Atop Beacon Tower) HOW-?!

Ruby: C'mon! C'mon! Let's play!

Fun Fact! There are reports of hyenas attacking humans, including an elderly man who was dragged from his bed over 80 miles away from his home, and when the search party found his body, his lower half was completely missing. Authorities urge residents to stay indoors at night with all openings shut.

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Ruby: (Crying)

Blake: Are you okay?

Ruby: I'm sorry, baby. I-I have to. Forgive me. (Pulls out screwdriver, Holds down Magnhild)

Yang: Yeah, she... gets like this every time she upgrades a weapon.

Ruby: (Pries open casing, Blubbering) F-F-Forgib me, zwee behbeh...

Blake: That's... uncomfortable.

Nora: No kidding.

Fun Fact! Hyenas will practice infanticide to improve their status within the group. A female will always be a member of the group, and this heirarchy is usually determined by violence. An observed hyena targeted and killed her sister's two cubs to establish herself higher in the pecking order.

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Ruby: One day, Jaune and Ren will leave, and they'll find their own harem of sexy girls to fall in love with.

Pyrrha: Uh, that's not going to happen.

Ruby: Why not?

Nora: Renny is gonna stay with me, forever and ever!

Ruby: What about Jaune?

Pyrrha: W-Well, hopefully, he can stay as our leader.

Ruby: ...DISGUSTING.

Ren: Huh?

Jaune: What do you mean?

Ruby: I am disgusted, and revolted, and even though I dedicate my life to the ways of our Huntress ancestors, THIS is the thanks I get?! (Climbs into garbage can)

Jaune: Ru-

Ruby: (Slams lid shut)

Fun Fact! Hyena males will be given a choice at adulthood, aka 2 years. If they choose to stay in the pack, they will maintain the status their mothers have achieved, though their choice of mate is severely limited by other females to prevent incest. Males who leave will have more females to choose from, though they will have to fight for their place in a heirarchy. It should be noted that the highest ranked male is still lower than the lowest ranked female.

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

Ruby: (In the pool)

Blake: (In the pool)

Ruby: ...

Blake: ...

Ruby: (Smiles)

Blake: ...Oh, that's nasty.

Fun Fact! During the dry season, hyenas will sit in any water mud puddle they can find. They will remain in this water, even while using it as a bathroom.

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Dino Krakata Gigantia Faunus Summer

Summer: (Towering over her classmates) Hm... I see no foes...

Summer: ONLY PREY.

Fun Fact! Dino Krakata Gigantia was the megafauna ancestor of hyenas, weighing more than 800 pounds and standing more than 6 feet long. Evidence shows they too shared a powerful set of jaws for crushing and eating bones.

#rwby #hyena!faunus Ruby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #Dino Krakata Gigantia!Faunus Summer #summer rose

[volturissideslut]

Req for the volturi :)

Domestic 'snapshots' of life with the kings (seperate or not) and with the guards if possible? By snap shots I mean like short scenes of a regular day, watching them get dressed for trials, spending time w them, them finding you after trials and greeting you... etc?

I really enjoy your volturi headcanons :)

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 + 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖘

I LOVE DOMESTIC SNAPSHOTS SO MUCH YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND I'M DOING THE TWINS TOO AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME! In some of these you're human and in others ur a vamp (ps I write from the movie not the book so twins are aged up like the movies)

Aro

Sitting next to him and leaning your head on his chest, half asleep as he keeps talking about all the history he's witnessed, fighting sleep desperately because 1, it's interesting, and 2, you love listening to his stories

but his voice is just such a comforting thing to you after all this time together and the low gentle hum has you so relaxed and enchanted that you can't help but fall asleep (almost like he's doing it on purpose)

when you finally fall asleep he pulls a cozy blanket over the two and you before going to do his own thing

the loss of his comforting voice has you stirring awake, but he notices and just continues talking, finishing his story before beginning a new one and eventually fantasising about what the future holds with you

Marcus

It's almost lunch time for you and you get up, about to get some food but Marcus stops you; he has a gift for you. As he's handing it to you, you realise with a gentle smile what exactly it is your holding

a box of chicken flavour 'cup of soup' packets, the cheap one too and you can't help but beam at him suprised by the thoughtfulness

he remembered

weeks ago now - perhaps even months - you had been rambling about your childhood, upset at the prospect of losing what you hold dear with the soon vampire status you would have

reminiscing over the late nights with your mother when you were sick or it was a rainy day, having cheap cup of soups and curling under her bed covers together with a comfort film on the background whilst you talked and existed together

maybe to others a gift of pearls and diamonds or gold would have been more impressive but he listened and he cared

Caius

Here you are, sat trying your hardest not to laugh in your lovers face as he insists that he doesn't look like grumpy cat

the resemblance is too close you you and you know if you were human you would be wheezing out of breath as he tries and failed to put up an annoyed facade, an offended facade, which ilny makes them resemble each other more

"how on earth did it get stuck with you" he'd mutter quietly despite knowing you'd hear him no matter what, as his face splits into a grin and he can no longer hold his own chuckle back

it's ridiculous and not even funny when you think about it but moments like these with you always warms his soul

Alec

A muffled scream left you lips as you buried your face deeper into the nape of his neck. Honestly, why was he so insistant on speeding around with you on his back scaring you?

it was when he jumped over a particularly large river ravine that you flailed around a bit before he set you firmly on the ground

"give me a warning next time Alec!" you gasped, glaring playfully at his unrepentant smirk. He was up to something, definitely up to somethi-

Without time to finish your thought he scoops you up before scaling a perticularly tall tower, reluctantly clinging to him and burrowing into him impossibly further and ignoring his weak attempts to comfort you through boisterous laughs

he was right though- the view of the sunrise up here was well worth it and the rush of getting up here to see it had you feeling just as giddy as a teen in love

Jane

This had to be the most relaxed she had been in a long time

sliding her arms into the sleeves of her cloak she had to take a moment to compose herself before leaving, unwanting to show others just how happy you made her simply by existing

here you were, hair tussled and an absolute mess, eyes almost glued shut in sleep as you groaned dramatically at the thought of getting out of bed

you wanted a goodbye kiss but you wrongfully assumed Jane would be pitiful of this and give in

but no

she's making you work for it, ready to walk out the door of your shared room as you whine for her to come 4 freaking steps closer before her duty starts, state only worsened by the smug and and teasing smile painted on her face

just as she's about to give in one of the lower guards barges in disturbing the peace and she straightens up, before turning to him

realising he's in the wrong room he bolts put with a half baked apology and Jane is left to simply roll her eyes and press a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving, masking her smirk at your complain that "that's not what I meant! wan' a proper kiss" with annoyance for the lower guard she's about to hunt down

For Demetri and Felix click here

#twilight #twilight renascence #volturi #headcannons #x reader #twilight saga #hc #alec volturi #jane volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #caius volturi #volturi kings #volturi guard #volturissideslut #fluff

[teecupangel]

Ad Altaïr Anon

Curse ye Tumblr! Why must you prevent me from showing the image of t-posing Altair moments before being sucked into The Cube!! (it's absolutely not me being a first-time nooby asker who has never sent a link through ask ever nu-uh it's all tumblr)

maybe this link will work instead, I'm slightly better with imgur links at least :v

https://imgur.com/a/Hl2elSH

And yeah that's it! I never put one on my computer myself simply because i once tried to mod minecraft in the olden days and messed up so badly that I figured i should just leave that sort of stuff alone.

But AH, my heart! The future and doomed Desmond giving them that slight control over the grey so maybe this Desmond wouldn't have to die 😭

but also lol oh boy would Altair get lost in the sauce surfing the web! It worse than when he was alive with the apple because now he doesn't have to eat, drink, or sleep so someone has to pry him out of the web every once in a while.

(The only real modding I’ve done in a long time was for Mugen back in those days. To be honest though, my brother helped me add characters and stuff hahaha)

The “Altaïr interrupts Desmond’s game using an ‘ad’” idea and its sorta prequel sorta sequel for those curious

“We need to talk about Altaïr’s internet addiction.”

Desmond stared at Shaun’s solemn expression for a fraction of a second before he turned his attention back to the instant noodles he was having for lunch.

He didn’t really like soggy noodles.

“Desmond, this is serious.” Shaun placed his hands on the table and towered over Desmond who was hunched to make it easier to eat his noodles.

That was a bad move.

Desmond could just as easily headbutt his nose at this distance.

“I’m listening, Shaun.” Desmond replied half-heartedly before eating once more.

He didn’t understand why Shaun wanted to talk to him about Altaïr’s internet addiction. It wasn’t like Desmond could stop the man from scouring every web page available in Wikipedia in his endless pursuit of knowledge.

… not that he would want to anyway.

“Desmond, Altaïr has been using the computer 24/7. We have to keep the AC on just to make sure the computer doesn’t overheat. Together with the electricity needed for the Animus and our other devices, two of which are now fully being used by Ezio and Connor-”

Desmond slowly raised his head so Shaun would have a warning to pull away. It was still a close call, Desmond’s head almost knocking against Shaun’s nose but Shaun stood and crossed his arms while Desmond took a sip of the soup before asking, “Are you… are you trying to talk to me about our upcoming electric bill?”

“Not ‘ours’ but the building we’re ‘piggy backing’ from.” Shaun clarified, “They’ll definitely think something is up when they see the sudden spike.”

“Then isn’t this too late already?” Desmond countered lightly, “The bill’s gonna come sooner or later. Might just be better for us to book it.”

Shaun grimaced but did not deny it.

Desmond sighed before he said, “How about this. I’ll tell Altaïr to find us a new safehouse and take care of the logistics and stuff. That’ll be his punishment for skyrocketing some random business’ electric bill.”

Shaun opened his mouth, most probably to argue, so Desmond asked, “Unless you already have the next safehouse in mind?”

Shaun sighed as he said, “I’ll tell the others about it. You tell Altaïr about his punishment.”

Desmond waved his hand before lowering his head to continue eating while Shaun stormed out of the dining room, most probably to bother Rebecca.

Or complain to her.

Maybe both.

Probably both.

Desmond waited until he could no longer hear Shaun’s footsteps before turning to look at his phone that was lying next to the cup noodles.

“Congrats, Altaïr. You got what you wanted.” Desmond mumbled.

His phone’s screen lit up and showed Altaïr in front of his homescreen, arms crossed as he said, “Not yet. Not until we’ve finally settled in a more secured location.”

“More secured.” Desmond snorted, “Just say the internet is too slow for you here.”

“Hm.” Altaïr didn’t even bother to give him a proper reply.

Nor deny it.

“Well, at least wait until midnight before sending the plan to everyone.” Desmond reminded him, “Otherwise, Shaun’s going to find out this was your plan from the start.”

“I know. I’m not a fool, Desmond.” Altaïr said calmly before adding, “Eat a fruit or have salad after that.”

“I’ll eat an apple, alright.” Desmond rolled his eyes, “Please don’t repeat to me how bad it is for my body to keep eating instant noodles.”

Altaïr sighed, “Fine. I’ll leave you with your pathetic excuse for a meal then.”

“Thanks.” Desmond sarcastically said, watching as the screen of his phone turned off.

And he can finally eat in peace…

… soggy noodles.

Damn it.

#assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #shaun hastings #ask and answer

[softness-and-shattering]

So what does it mean that johns soul has been enmeshing into alecto's for 10k years? Does his soul weigh more in the balance than any of the other billions of earth souls? Does it matter that he couldnt fully combine with her (therefore stuffed what was left into a body)? Theres that Tazmuir quote about how if a soul is a happy meal, Harrow ate like, Gideons cheeseburger but not her chips and toy, what does it all mean?

How does Harrows soul balance with the other 200 children of the Ninth? (And I still want to know why no other children were born after her. It seems almost like all those kids and all their parents died because theres no one between Ortus and the great aunts. Where did the parents generation go?)

The line about Paul coming to a conclusion neither Cam nor Pal would have, is that what their consensus would have been or something else completely? Paul has two sets of memories, but can we say for sure that 1+1= well, not 2. I guess Im saying, is it a neat mixing of a puzzle or is it a roiling boiling soup?

How does it WORK what does it MEAN. Are Nona's top and bottom thoughts different soul-pieces or soul-people?

One more thing, about John wanting to start over. "Put this first draft dream to bed...empty is the same as clean". The River. The biblical flood, except hes not the noah figure hes the divine wrath bringing the flood. I think its going to pattern after the biblical flood. Maybe the tower in the river is the arc (or maaaaybe the tower of babel?). Idk. I just see the pieces lining up.

#turning em around in a microwave #waiting for that ping #tlt spoilers #tlt meta #tug spoilers #alecto predictions #alecto the ninth #the unwanted guest #the unwanted guest spoilers #the locked tomb #alecto #paul tlt #mine

[heich0e]

bsf’s little brother but it’s osamu who’s the little brother by like two mins 😁😁😁 this is just me finding ways to fit samu into any trope btw <3 but YES bsf’s little bro tobio who starts sending u pics of cool stuff he sees in italy, u always telling him to keep safe, who blushes when u call him pet names 😔😔

miwa plans a trip to visit tobio in italy but has to bail last minute because of work, and begs you to take her ticket and go instead. "to check on him, to make sure he's not living out of his suitcases!" she says, pleading with you to let her transfer her ticket into your name.

so against all odds (and your better judgement) you end up in italy, of all places.

tobio picks you up at the airport in a hat and sunglasses, but you can't mistake the way he towers over the rest of the crowd at the arrivals gate. he carries your bags up to his apartment (where you happily confirm that no, he's not living out of suitcases--though you suspect a fair amount of the decor in his apartment was purchased just prior to your arrival if the receipts and packaging in his trashcan are anything to go by) and lingers in the doorway to the guest bedroom while you settle in. he tells you six times where the towels are. reminds you constantly to make yourself at home. it's kind of cute, you can't help but think, how eager he is.

tobio's training schedule is as busy as you'd expect--leaving early each morning, and sometimes not coming home until late in the evening depending on if it's a game day or not--but you keep yourself busy with sightseeing in his absence, and then the two of you eat dinner together each night. sometimes you go out to visit a restaurant in his quaint little neighbourhood, sometimes you cook for him in the afternoons before he arrives home.

you tell him all about your day while the two of you eat, only to find out that since moving to italy, tobio has visited sum total ZERO tourist attractions or places of cultural significance.

"been busy," he murmurs into the spoonful of soup you'd prepared as a side for dinner that evening--something from home, since you'd sensed it was something the young man was missing.

but that just won't do. so when tobio FINALLY gets a stretch of a few days off, you drag him out to all of your favourite places that you'd visited since arriving. he doesn't complain once. especially not when you grab his hand so the two of you don't get separated in the lively, bustling italian streets.

tobio introduces you to his teammates one evening towards the end of your visit when you come to meet him at the arena after practice. they're an energetic bunch. extremely tall. very sweaty. and they seem to get a bit rowdy when tobio shoots you a shy little wave once he spots you waiting in the stands as the group of men shuffle off towards the locker rooms. you hear "tua tesorina" thrown around more than once between the men, and it only makes tobio go red up to his ears, snapping at them viciously in italian though it seems completely ineffective. it sounds a bit like 'your sister'--tua sorella--so you assume they must be teasing tobio for your presence. it makes you giggle a bit to yourself as you wait for him to emerge from the showers.

it's not until you're at your departure gate in the airport at the end of your nine day trip, waiting for your flight home with a heavy heart you can't quite explain, that you finally look up what it meant.

tua tesorina: your little treasure (literal), your darling (familiar)

this post can be read as a follow up to/continuation of this drabble

#kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama tobio #bffs little brother!tobio #also best friend's younger brother osamu is just the bff!osamu series my guy #liv got mail