#fuck you i gave them each a distinct fashion sense

[theemporium]

okay thots incoming:

1. 🐁 sending that happy/grumpy werewolf lestappen ask sent me spiraling. like yes!!!! those are her dogs!!!! she's showing pictures to anyone who asks and it's just an excessive amount of photos of charles being silly goofy and max grudgingly putting up with his antics. and the poor person who now is stuck here for the next five minutes is like "oh wow you can really see their distinctive personalities..." and reader is just like "oh yea that always looks like he's being greatly inconvenienced." and bonus points if it's with werewolf reader so you get the errant pic of the three of them in wolf form and when asked about it she's like "oh yeah, that's max's and charles' dog" bc like !!!! they are hers and she is theirs !!!

2. i was NOT paying attention in my quiz section today and was totally just thinking about a driver!reader au where she is just such a girly girls girl. like yea she has to wear all the ugly team stuff but she's yassifying it, she's styling it good, she's pulling it off. not to mention HER merch???? it's so well designed, you can't even tell it's merch unless you're a fan (the way it should be imo). and like she's posting stories, doing photo dumps, feeding the girlies. and all while being absolutely on top of the points. like no questions, she's on her way to wdc for sure. and like yea she gets hate from it but also what does she care, she's loaded, she's rich, she's living her dream. like she stays winning

3. the new charles glasses pics 😵‍💫😵‍💫 like i can't stop thinking about lestappen wearing glasses around the house and reader teasing them as getting old and how their eyesight is going. and like the way they look at each other...... they'll let her tease and brat about it but they know just how much reader likes it and how they can absolutely use it to their advantage

-🌠

1 .tbh everyone is mostly shocked at the fact max has gone along with apparently having these three dogs when he’s a cat man😭like everyone finds it so funny because they just think he’s so whipped that he gave into his partners, whilst you and charles definitely play into it like, “yeah!! we have him wrapped around our finger!!”

2. I ADORE!!!!!! she’s everything and the other drivers are just there!! but also her just being iconic because people assume she’s a pushover or a bit of a doormats because she’s so feminine, but she’s ready to put anyone—even her team—in their place. and I also love the idea she gives some of the other boys so much shit for their fashion sense because look at them😭some of them are fucking hopeless and they need her guidance

3. LESTAPPEN IN GLASSES AND THEIR STREAMER ERA IS JUST🫠🫠🫠🫠idk why it brings back memories of the pornstar!driver headcanons but it low-key does. but those boys in their glasses just look so good, I wanna jump them asap

#cece answers #🌠.anon

[ace-lost-in-motherfucking-art]

idk i drew these, now im posting them╮(╯_╰)╭

more content for saiki without glasses. i demand it🔫🕴️

saiko is underrated as hell, and content on saiki and saiko interacting? non-existent. need more. there's opportunity with this. i mean come on look at tHEIR FUCKING NAMES.

they would do this. im not taking criticism fuck you.

#the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiko metori #hairo kineshi #kaidou shun #kuboyasu aren #saiki kusuo #fuck you i gave them each a distinct fashion sense #hairo is clearly himbo jock #kaidou is definitely an eboy shut up #you cant see it but aren is wearing cargo shorts. yes he is #aren would clearly dress like a dad #im not wrong #saiki either dresses like hes trying to be invisible or its the flashiest fucking fashion disaster #may i direct you to the zebra print cardigan? #somehow it works #its just the vibe i love him

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 36: Entwine

"But Harry, we just think you'd be so much happier if you-"

"Found someone to settle down with," Harry finished for Hermione. At this point he'd heard the lecture so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

She sighed, "We just worry-"

"That I'm lonely and miserable," Harry said. "I know."

"We love you, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I know," Harry said, and it was true he did know, otherwise he would have probably stopped being friends with them by this point. "I love you guys, too. But you have to stop setting me up on dates."

Hermione stared calculatingly at him, "Two weeks," she said. "I'll give you two weeks reprieve and if you've started dating someone by then we'll leave it."

-------

He was still stewing on this conundrum when he stopped in to pick up a cup of coffee and (hopefully) a pastry the following morning.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy called over his shoulder without even looking up to see him.

"That's going to bite you in the arse someday," Harry said as he stepped up and rested his elbows on the counter.

"I've told you," Malfoy said, turning around and handing him a cup of coffee that Harry knew would be made perfectly and a pastry bag that had Harry's mouth already watering, "You have a very distinct magical aura. I know it's you."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was secretly charmed. "When you say things like that I completely understand how you and Luna get on so well."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he got on pretty well with Malfoy, too. "Hey," Harry said, opening his mouth to speak in true Griffyndor fashion without hesitating to think. "You're single aren't you?"

(Read more below the cut)

Malfoy groaned, "Not you, too. My friends are always harping on me about dating. I'm perfectly fine-"

"Right, yeah. Of course you are," Harry hastened to add, "I am, too, obviously and that's the point."

"Potter drink your coffee, you're making even less sense than usual," Malfoy said.

"No, listen. Pretend to date me. Please, Malfoy, I'm literally begging. I will do anything to get my friends to stop setting me up on horrible dates."

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, "That's an interesting idea, Potter."

"It's a fantastic idea," Harry assured him. "I promise to be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had."

"What would it involve?" Malfoy asked, slowly.

Harry thought for a minute, "We could go on 'dates' and just, you know, hang out; we can have dinner together, go to quidditch games, whatever you want. And then when we're out with friends we'll just sit together, maybe hold hands or something? I haven't thought it through yet but what do you say?"

Malfoy tilted his head to the side, "I'd say you're in luck, Potter, because I had a really bad date last night with a bloke that Pansy tried to set me up with. So, let's do it. Merlin knows I could use a break."

"Done," Harry said, grinning widely at the other man, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

The corner of Malfoy's, Draco's, lips tilted up, "Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

"Do you like Italian?"

Draco nodded.

"Perfect. I get off at 4:00 today, do you want to meet here?"

"Sure," Draco replied with a little grin.

Harry smiled back, "Thanks for the coffee and the pastry. And I'm looking forward to see you tonight, sweetheart."

Draco laughed, "Disgusting. Get out of here you prat."

Harry placed a hand over his heart as he backed toward the door, "You have the sweetest way with words."

The other man shook his head but he was smiling as widely as Harry.

This was clearly the best idea that Harry had ever had.

--------

This was the worst idea Harry had ever had. Not because he and Draco didn't get on, but because they did.

Within two weeks Harry was spending more of his free time in Draco's company than out of it. They'd gone out to eat together eleven times (in thirteen days!), they'd taken Teddy to the park together, and Harry stopped by the coffee shop twice a day now and arrived half an hour early so he could spend time talking to Draco before he had to leave for work.

Yes, he was getting up early just so he could have more time to spend with Draco.

He was in so much trouble.

And it was only going to get worse since they were attending pub night tonight with all of their friends and they'd agreed that holding hands, casual touching, pet names, and the like were all acceptable for the evening.

Harry was standing outside the pub, waiting for Draco and trying to get himself under control, when the other man appeared.

"Ready?" Draco asked, giving him a small but genuine smile that had Harry's stomach doing back flips.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding once to himself.

Draco held out his hand, wiggling his fingers for Harry to take.

He reached over and slid his fingers through Draco's, their hands fit perfectly together, and Harry thought he might be having a heart attack. Holding someone's hand shouldn't feel this good.

He was absolutely, entirely fucked.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," he answered but his voice came out all funny and breathless, and honestly, if he could have punched himself in the face he would have. He cleared his throat, "Yeah, fine," he said. "Let's go."

And as if holding Draco's hand hadn't been enough, once they got inside the pub, Draco sat next to him and rested his hand at the top of Harry's spine, his fingers trailing lightly over Harry's neck and wrapping around the curls at the base of his skull.

It was like he was in a bubble; conversations were happening all around him, people were laughing and joking, people were probably telling all sorts of stories but he didn't process a word.

Slowly, he forced himself to relax, leaning into Draco's side and letting his hand slip over to rest on Draco's knee.

The other man gave his neck a gentle squeeze in response as he continued his discussion with Luna.

"Harry," Hermione said, waving a hand to get his attention.

"Yeah?" he asked, perking up and trying to ignore the tingles racing up and down his spine as Draco's fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp.

"You were a bit lost there, mate," Ron said.

He smiled, "Sorry, just a bit out of it."

"That's alright," Hermione said, "I was just saying that you and Draco seem to be really good together."

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, glancing over at the other man who was quite engrossed in a conversation with Pansy and Luna. "Yeah," he repeated. "He's really something."

Hermione nodded, "You seem to be good for each other."

"Yeah," he said, feeling a bit sick because they did seem good for each other, they did somehow make sense. "Sorry, could you excuse me for a minute?" he asked as he stood up and fled the table, making his way quickly to the restroom.

He all but ran into a stall and locked it behind him, barely managing to stop himself from banging his head against the wall. This wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't supposed to have fallen for Draco Malfoy.

"Harry?" a voice called.

He held his breath, maybe if he just didn't make any noise Draco would go away and he could finish having his crisis in peace.

"I can see your shoes," the other man said as he knocked softly on the door. "Let me in?"

Reluctantly, Harry opened the stall and made room for Draco to slip in with him.

"Do you want to tell me why you've been acting like an insane person escaped from the psychiatric ward tonight?"

He winced, tried to think about what he could say, how he could deflect, but what came out was, "I don't want to pretend."

Draco's brow furrowed, "This was your idea," he said. "And if you wanted to stop all you had to do was say so."

"No," Harry said, reaching out to stop the other man from leaving. "That's not-" he huffed and entwined his fingers with Draco's. "I mean that I don't want this to be pretend."

Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly so Harry continued, "Holding hands with someone has never felt like this. Going on dates with someone has never been this much fun. I want to be around you all the time, even when you're making me crazy."

"I don't understand."

He sighed, "I can't pretend with you because none of this is pretend for me any more."

Draco blinked once, then he leaned forward and caught Harry's lips with his own. The hand not holding Harry's came up to cup his cheek and tip he head down so he could kiss him more easily and Harry's body lit up like a firework.

He pushed Draco back a step until his back hit the wall and pressed his body against the other man's. Harry's body had been made for this. Every neuron was firing away happily, every atom of his being singing with joy at the other man's proximity.

Draco's fingers threaded through Harry's hair as his tongue flicked over Harry's bottom lip. With a soft moan, Harry opened his mouth, his tongue reaching out tentatively to touch and twist with the other man's.

They might have continued on like that all night, were it not for the outer door to the restroom slamming open as a drunk man staggered in.

Draco pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He put a finger over Harry's lips and pressed a kiss to his nose, and Harry wasn't quite sure how he hadn't simply melted into a puddle of goo yet.

Once the man left, Draco removed his finger and pressed one more gentle kiss to Harry's lips. "This isn't pretend for me either," he murmured.

Harry smiled, "No more pretending."

"Honesty about where we're at from here on out," Draco added with a smile.

And it was a promise they kept until the day they died. They both had to wear masks for the outside world but they never hid from one another.

-----------

Day 35: Tears | Day 37: Secrets

#thanks for the prompt anon! #day 35 #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #entwine #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #falling in love #my writing

[awesomerextyphoon]

Madripoor Musings

Summary: You’re undercover as Zemo’s Sugar Baby while you’re with the team in Madripoor. You seem to like the position a little too much and Sam gets jealous.

Parings: Sam Wilson x Black Female Reader, slight Zemo x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Warnings: FATWS Spoilers, Smut, Oral (f receiving), Light Choking, Angst, Semi-Public Smut,  Daddy Kink, and Slight Emotional Manipulation

A/N: Ran into another writer’s block so I’m using prompts from this list to get myself out of it. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

“So, are we good to go, everyone?”

The four of you were jet-setting in Zemo’s private plane to Madripoor to get info on this new version of super solider serums. Zemo came up with the idea of having Sam go undercover as the West African weapons dealer/smuggler, Smiling Tiger. Bucky returned to his ‘Winter Soldier’ mode and you were to become ‘Miss Erina’, Zemo’s new arm candy/Sugar Baby.

Your backstory was simple: you’ve been with Zemo since before he went to prison living in his many estates and luxurious apartments.

It took some time for everyone to get into character. Sam tried and failed to pull off a Nigerian accent while Bucky kept up his hard glare and glower routine. You and Zemo put on the perfect couple facade with the both of you placing semi-sensual touches on each other’s bodies and showering each other with (sometimes lewd) compliments.

“Oh, thank you for the necklace, Daddy!” you gushed loving the way Sam was fuming. Bucky almost broke his character trying not to snicker.

“Nothing’s too much for you, котёнок/kotyonok (kitten).” Zemo mused as he offered you a coy smirk and leaned in for a kiss.

You giggled as he placed kisses along your jawline, neck, and collarbone.

“We’ll continue this later, киса,” Zemo whispered while winking at Sam.

 ––––

 Madripoor was amazing, to say the least. It was a cyberpunk wet dream with bright lights at various angles and two distinct levels giving off a Black Lagoon/Blade Runner/Ghost in Shell vibe.

It felt like your kind of town.

It’s been like this since the Snap. Your older sister died in a car crash right after Thanos’ victory. Your father and uncle were blipped into the ocean dying instantly. Nowadays, your mother could barely talk to you without crying.

Natasha was dead and Steve fucked off to the 1940s to crush English pussy. Sharon got branded an enemy of the US Government and was forced to run. Some dumbass cracker (you will NEVER acknowledge his name) was given Sam’s rightful shield and mantle of Captain America by the craven, racist US government and had the NERVE to tell you to stay out of his way.

To top it all off, you found out that the US military tortured a man for 30 YEARS in order to ‘make the perfect soldier’.

You were finally in a place that matched how you felt.

“We’re heading into Low Town. Be on your guard, everyone.” Zemo warned as he lifted your chin and kissed you again. He insisted on walking towards your escort.

“Why do I have to wear this again? I look like a pimp!” Sam whined while looking sexy AF in his Ankara (I’m saying it’s Ankara) suit.

“Don’t mind him, Daddy. Sam has no sense of style.” You joked snuggling closer to Zemo.

“We’re not at the club yet.” Sam pointed out, vexed at the way you were clinging onto Zemo.

“We cannot let our guard down, Wilson. Selby has eyes everywhere.”

Sam relented and tried not to look your way. It was tempting due to you wearing an amazing Burgundy Fashion Nova Sugar Free Mini Dress with Black Bow Whoa Pumps. Your curves were out, but not in a shameless manner.

You had class, yet you were a tease.

 ––––

 The ride to Selby’s was nothing short of thrilling.

You were right about the overall aesthetic. Madripoor definitely has the ‘dystopian punk’ feel on lock.

“You look radiant, котёнок.” Zemo cooed as you kissed his neck liking how smiled at Sam and inwardly cackled at Sam’s glower.

 –––––

 Several men and some women moved to make a pass at you on the way to the club. A few audacious men learned that you were Zemo’s the hard way, Bucky made sure of it.

You had to mask your displeasure at how many people were shooting appreciative glances at Sam.

You just hoped this escapade would end soon.

 ––––––

 Zemo advised everyone to aim straight for the bar wrapping his arm around your waist as he strode into the club. Sam and Bucky followed suit slipping into their Apex and Winter modes respectively.

The bartender licked his lips as he looked you over, “Thought Selby told ya you ain’t welcomed here, Zemo.”

Zemo raised an eyebrow, “I know, but this is important,” he eyed several bouncers making their way towards your group. Their moves did not faze the baron. He simply turned to Bucky and whispered in his ear.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to let loose. You could’ve sworn a couple of people were ready to shit themselves.

 –––––

 Selby was...interesting. She/They gave off a pretentious ‘I’m always ten steps ahead’ aura with a bit of fake whimsy. She/They wanted to give you to one of her best clients and keep Bucky for herself/themselves (probably for sexual reasons, didn’t want to pry).

The conversation was going well...until Sam’s phone went off.

Insert facepalm.

You’ve told him time and time again to put his phone on silent and get rid of vibrate. Now he was gonna get y’all killed, but you said,” Fuck it!” and shot her/them and the #2.

The group had to book it and you cursed yourself for wearing non-running heels.

 _____

 Your asses were saved by a guardian sniper, Sharon. You were glad to see her again missing your bi-weekly movie nights and sporadic weekend brunches.

“It’s good to see you, Sharon.” You greeted as you hugged Sharon at the entrance of her High Town pad.

“It’s great to see you, too, even after you’ve destroyed my work.” Sharon lowered her voice while pressing her lips together in frustration and then lust at the sight of Sam’s deliciously thicc upper body.

You couldn’t blame her as you wanted to run your hands and tongue along his planes of muscle.

You listened in on the group’s conversation as you changed clothes seeing Sam’s distress at Sharon and Zemo’s words. They did have a point about how being a hero does ring hollow, but it still hurt to see Sam’s sadness and hurt.

 ––––––

 You found Zemo, bless his heart, dancing like a lost dad on the dance floor and started grinding against him while shooting Sam a sexy pout accentuating your sensually full lips.

Sam, for his part, was trying to look interested talking to a waitress with killer legs. He almost lost it when he put his arms around your waist.

“Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him,” you whispered wrapping your arms around his neck. He knew that Sam hasn’t been giving it lately.

 ––––––

 Your little stunt lasted for about ten minutes before Sam stomped over grabbing your arm and dragging you into one of Sharon’s ‘private rooms’ after another man got too close to what was his.

“Why did you drag me away like that?!” you shouted secretly turned on by the raging fire in his eyes.

“So you like calling your men ‘Daddy’?” Sam demanded as he backed you into the wall.

“I’m your ‘daddy’ now, vixen.” Sam breathed while lightly dragging his finger up your thighs only to find no panties.

“No panties, huh?” he smirked as he twirled his forefinger around your clit causing you to moan.

“Fuck, I love hearing you moan. Say my name, vixen. Don’t care if Sharon finds out.” Sam murmured against your lips. He effortlessly lifted you in such a way to make you wonder if he got some SS serum. It didn’t hurt that you got to see his muscles bulge underneath his turtleneck as he landed your blessed backside onto one of the tables.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” Sam ordered as he forced open your legs and made his way your slit leaving open-mouthed kisses and love bites in his wake. “You're already soaking for me, baby.” he mused as he gave your slit a long lick.

You could barely keep yourself from moaning.

“Who's your daddy, baby?”

“You are!”

“I’m your ONLY daddy!” Sam shouted and dove in.

You were drowning in ecstasy.

Sam was hitting all the right notes with your pussy. He was always a G at eating you out. Sam swatted your hand away from your mouth, “I want everyone to know who your real daddy is,!”

He kept you on edge for nine excruciating minutes before he finally let you orgasm.

“No time for rest, vixen.” Sam chided as he flipped you on the table ass up with your dress bunched up around your chest,” Are you a good little vixen?” Sam breathed in your ear as he placed kisses along your ear, neck, and collarbone.

“Yes, daddy.”

“You’re damn right I am!” He sheaved himself into you in one swift motion. You moaned in delight at the sensation. He didn’t move no matter how much you begged him, “Tell the world who your daddy is,” he instructed as he slapped your plump ass.

You screamed out his name and Sam started thrusting. He gently wrapped his hand around your neck while demanding you to shout his name. Sam pounded into you at a relentless pace constantly hitting your ‘Cum Dizzy Sector’ turning you into a delightfully orgasmic mess.

Sam was reaching his limit so he played with your clit to make you finish first. You came with what felt like an earth-shattering orgasm with Sam coming with a primal roar not too long afterward.

Both of you were so wrapped up in orgasmic bliss that you didn’t notice Sharon, Zemo, Bucky, and a few other partygoers at the door.

“So, how did go?” Sharon teased as you tried to cover yourself up.

“How much did you see?”

“Hmm,” Sharon hummed while tapping her chin, “Enough for me to close a $19.8M art deal.”

“We’re getting a 10% cut.” Sam barked annoyed with the rest of the group reigning in on his smash time.

“Fine. Get dressed, I got a lead.” Sharon announced while smirking all the way to her quarters.

You smirked at Zemo as you made your way to the exit.

Worth it.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black!reader #sam wilson imagine #fatws #fatws spoilers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #avengers imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu smut #smut #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #sam wilson x female reader #sharon carter #madripoor musings #madripoor

[b00ket]

Just ate some shitty chocolate and mulling over my growing dislike of the arcana

Like the characters in the game, fandom (ie. like 5 people), fanartist are cool and sexy

But I feel like I would’ve enjoyed the game more if Nix Hydra actually wanted to portray POC and weren’t such vague and lazy writers

Disclaimer: I talk about Asra but I haven’t finished their route so take this grain of salt

Taking a step back and looking at this game... i don’t like it. Here’s the main reasons why:

They claim to have a diverse story and world but honestly you could change all the characters to look white and nothing would change.

They are so fucking ambiguous it drives me insane. The world in this game is never built up at ALL and neither is the magic system. They have left hints and details of a bigger complex world but never elaborate on it even when it could be relevant to the story.

Magic

Details from some stories aren’t even in others. When explaining magic to my boyfriend I was making a-lot of assumptions about how magic works because everything is so vague.

For example, magic limits are brought up maybe twice. Herbal magic exists (Mazelinka practices it I believe), runes and charms are a thing, glyphs are a thing. All these things are great details for magic that could have been explored as other forms of magic other characters have. Julian using glyph magic was never explored further, Muriel using charms and herbal magic would have been great.

The fact that these are never revisited or expanded upon digs at me. It feels like lost potential.

The minor arcana is a world detail that is only prevalent in the weekly card reading when the concept of another set of arcana is super fucking cool? Even mentioning any form of the minor arcana in the major arcana realms would be a nice tie in. But no its never even mentioned.

The world

Reading the arcana, Vesuvia feels more like a symbol than a place. It lacks a sense of life ehich is strange considering how much time we spend there. Nadia, Portia, Julian and Asra are all people who have a knowledge and understanding of Vesuvia but exploring with them is so focused on romance they lose the chance of building this world.

The outside world follows suit. Aside from names you can’t really tell me anything from outside kingdoms. Anything said about Prakra and Nevivon is vague and broad, even when Julian and Nadia are speaking about it.

The assumptions I’ve made about this world and how it functions are doing a lot of heavy lifting in giving the world life. I’ll make a post about each place in the arcana world about these assumptions just because of how important they are to my interpretations of the characters race. Ill touch on them here.

Race and Culture

This is my biggest gripe with Nix claiming to be diverse. Sure the characters have different skin tones but you could make them white and it wouldn’t affect the plot.

Everyone in this cast is some form of racially ambiguous or their culture is not in anyway important to the plot if mentioned at all.

I cannot speak on Asra’s portion but they’re not from Vesuvia. Their mom wears a headscarf but its never shown whether this is a fashion piece or religious outfit. (The fact that no other person wears a headscarf and it looks like a hijab implies muslim faith exists but its never explained) Asra themself is a magical person in tune with themself. Having them show us some of their culture would have been nice.

Nadia, despite her arc being that of family, never shows any sign of the cultural aspects of Prakra. A nice character touch would be her growing distant from her culture while with Lucio in the palace (spurred on my Lucio’s lack of care and her apathy) and later in the story doing something significant and unique to her culture. Whether it be dressing in a way that’s distinct from Vesuvian citizens to praying or making a Prakran dish with their family.

Muriel’s cultural exploration is the best out of all of the characters as it’s a main plot point. Unfortunately not enough focus is placed on it. A great touch would have been language differences, perhaps even reclaiming the fading language of his tribe after its destruction.

Both Julian and Portia being from Nevivon and having lived on a pirate ship, I expected a deeper look into pirate culture and the life of Nevivon. None are elaborated on so Julian becoming a pirate in his upright ending feels empty as I’m not invested in pirate life at all.

Not doing the bare minimum to flesh out these characters culture means the world feels flat and the characters don’t feel like true representation. A hollow attempt at giving us diverse characters in what should be a living breathing world.

Race and Design

Again, everything is ambiguous.

The smallest gripe I have is that clearly the artists are not people of color. Granted I did get this impression from the fact that the palms of the hands arent lighter than the skin tone. Its a subtle thing but doing it shows a care for detail and it makes my melanin self very happy when it’s shown.

Another smaller gripe is how ambiguous Muriel and Asra look. I had assumed Muriel was just a white guy until the name of his tribe and seeing cultural wear gave a different impression. But I can’t fault anyone fir thinking he was white. Just like I can’t really fault people for thinking Asra is also white.

Why do the lighter skin characters have natural hair colors but as soon as Nadia and Asra are shown they have fantasy hair. While having colorful hair isn’t a crime, its a tactic often used to separate people of color from truly looking like people of color. It was a wall I had from connecting with these characters.

There’s not a single black person in this game. The more I think on it the more it bugs me. So many side characters and yet none of them are black. If the devs hadn’t said the baker is black you could make a strong argument that black or Afro-centric features don’t exist in this world. There is no kinky or very curly hair. Not a wide nose to be seen. Seeing an Asra design that was inspired by African culture and saw it fit the aesthetic so well made me even more confused why there wasn’t any.

It makes me sad truly. You can’t call your game diverse when it isn’t. The Arcana is not a diverse game. It’s a lazy game with a hollow attempt at representation.

I am open to discussion on this as it’s something I’m passionate about. So if you have any insights or want to voice your own opinion I’d be happy to hear it!

#art #the arcana #the arcana julian #muriel the arcana #reverse ending muriel #muriel #julian devorak #asra #asra alnazar #asra route #portia devorak #portia fanart #nadia #nadia satrinava #the arcana nadia #lucio montag #the arcana game lucio #vent

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[015] — the half of it!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: keep in the mind that y/n doesn’t have a faceclaim so that instagram photo is not a visual representation

also this wasn’t proofread and lowkey i’m not sure if this entire chapter even makes sense. read with caution lmao

the night went by in a flash with the second hour passing just as quickly as the first one. you were grateful that there wasn’t a single ounce of awkwardness drenching the lighthearted atmosphere of the restaurant when bokuto arrived fashionably late—rather that’s what he told you and the rest of the ddd team when he slid into the booth right across from you.

however, if bokuto was truly being honest, he actually made it right on time, yet something in him had held him back longer. he probably took a good fifteen minutes sitting in his car as if he was waiting for a sign to fucking walk in already. bokuto would have been lying to himself if he didn’t believe (even for a second) that he was absolutely terrified to see your face. no matter how much he wanted to see you again, the mere thought of your past relationship with iwaizumi had his knuckles turning alabaster as he gripped his steering wheel.

the athlete scoffed at his state that was so unbelievably wrapped around this idea that happened such a long time ago. admittedly, why in the hell would thee bokuto koutarou of the msby black jackals be hung up over a girl from high school anyway? he wanted to laugh at himself because akaashi was right.

it simply didn’t matter anymore.

or at least that’s what bokuto kept affirming in his head over and over and over again as he marched himself into that restaurant. there was confidence in the way he approached the nearly filled booth, yet the moment you shifted your eyes towards him, it all melted into oblivion.

goddammit, why did akaashi force him to sit across from you? it’s almost like he knew exactly how to torment both you and bokuto just by asking sugawara to scoot closer to the other side of the bench.

surprisingly, bokuto can handle his alcohol and knows how to moderate his drinking habits, yet tonight was his only exception. with you constantly throwing him knowing glances that reminded him of your shared relationship, it was his only driving force that kept him throwing his head back with shot after shot of soju.

by the time the entire group was all set and done, everyone was considerably drunk. it was kaori, yuko, and bokuto who were so severely wasted that it honestly forced you and the rest of the group to hold back in order to get everyone home safe and sound.

semi, who was sitting next to you, stands up first as the bill is handed back. “kaori and i will head out first. you guys get home safe, okay?”

you nod, waving ddd’s musician goodbye as he helps a tipsy kaori from stumbling over herself.

“i guess i should get going too,” sugawara adds in a beat later, motioning to yuko with her eyes closed and rested against the wall right behind her. “i know damn well she’s going to make me carry her ass up to her apartment.”

“bye, stay safe.” akaashi mutters as the four exit the restaurant, leaving you, him, and a drunken bokuto.

you held back an amused chuckle as akaashi gave you a look satiated in aversion. you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit guilty knowing that he’s going to be the one struggling trying to take bokuto back home safe despite knowing damn well it was going to happen sooner or later as the night of drinking continued.

akaashi let out a sigh, “well... guess i should take this one home too, shouldn’t i. you can go home first since you live close.” he offers, but you quickly decline.

“no, it’s fine.” you shook your head as you stood from your seat, “since i live so close, we could try and get him sobered up a bit so it’s easier for you to take him home.”

“are you sure?” asked akaashi as you gathered your things.

nodding, you make your way around the table to help bokuto stand. “yeah, i kind of feel bad. i don’t know if you noticed, but something was up with him today.”

perhaps akaashi was glad you didn’t notice the way his expression suddenly changed. he didn’t want to pry too much into your personal life or your past, but he knew damn well that the secrets need to be told. you two have been good friends since high school, yet it wasn’t until you and akaashi started working together with love cemetery did you two become so close. it’s never his business to be so caught up in whatever web you somehow got caught in literally years after everything happened, yet here you guys were.

he couldn’t stand and watch his best friend potentially hurt because of your in ability of communicate. granted, akaashi knew how personal those feelings were to you with no way to express it.

that’s the entire reason why you started love cemetery anyway—your both your relationships with iwaizumi and bokuto ended so abruptly, if you thought about it hard enough, there was no distinct closure despite ending on good terms with both of them. this, this sense of blurred lines of your webtoon and your past relationships were honestly just a coping mechanism for you.

how badly did akaashi just wanted to sit you down and talk your head on straight, but once again:

it wasn’t his business.

“alright, then.” akaashi sighs, helping you lead bokuto into his car. “let’s go.”

there was a special sense of silence in the air that tensed the moment akaashi started the car, engine humming in the background of the radio on low volume. the bright downtown tokyo lights simmered down as they reached the suburban areas of the city, filling you with a sense of serene peace as fatigue was slowly catching up to you as well.

a weight fell on your shoulder then as the car pulled into a stop. bokuto’s white hair brushed against your cheek as you looked down on him, pushing the man up and towards akaashi who had opened the door opposite from you.

the volleyball player muttered something incohesive beneath his breath as his weighted eyes attempted to open. bokuto had no idea where he was, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. he wanted to just crash into bed and sleep until the afternoon.

akaashi let out a grunt as he slung his best friend’s arm over his shoulders, following just behind you as the three of you walk up to your apartment. you threw a glance over your shoulder, watching your poor friend struggling to get the beefy athlete up the last flight of stairs.

an amused laugh left your lips, “are you sure you don’t need any help?” you offered as granted, you did offer to help get bokuto up to your apartment only for akaashi to say no. at this point, his struggle was on him.

“just hurry and unlock the door,” akaashi grumbles.

“right...” you mutter, reaching into your bag for your house keys only to feel a buzzing in your pocket.

“shit.” you say under your breath, forcing your seeping thoughts and increasing heart rate back as you opened the door.

your exes seeing each other at work was a different story. considering that neither of them knew of you past relationship with the ladder, it surely wouldn’t be a problem, but this was literally one of the last things you wanted to happen tonight. like seriously, doesn’t finding a drunk athlete that happens to be from the volleyball team you work for bad enough? surely having bokuto be in your apartment wouldn’t help your case either.

you stepped back into your living room, swallowing the bundle of nerves down your throat as bokuto seemed to regain enough conscious to form coherent words.

“kaashi~” he whined, voice muffled by the pillow he wrapped his muscular arms around. “i’m hungry.”

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“we literally just had korean barbeque dude,” his best friend scoffs. 

“okay, and?” bokuto pressed on, causing akaashi to roll his eyes.

“fine,” he deadpans before asking, “what do you want?”

the volleyball player smirked slightly, “ramen.”

akaashi stands up then, giving you an unenthused look as you approached him. you feigned a look of shock from appearing on your expression as you brushed past, frustration coating your very figure. this was not good.

a sigh left your lips as your brain scavenged desperately for a plan. at some point, the truth had to be revealed sooner or later whether you liked it or not. you just didn’t like how they both had to find out this way. 

you set the water upon the table in front of your sofa, setting the medicine gently upon bokuto’s palm. 

bokuto always thought you had the softest hands. he would often find excuses just to hold your hand back when you two used to date. it would always make him feel safe and warm, yet nowadays he still yearned to feel that sense of familiarity again—even if it meant it was the last time he would ever get to.

“thank you,” he says.

“yeah, no problem.” the words left your mouth softer than you had anticipated when bokuto made eye contact with you—familiar and warm as if you were home.

you didn’t know what to think then as you placed yourself next to him, yet still leaving space for comfort. bokuto looked so cute and vulnerable in such a state, how in the hell were you supposed to kick this guy out of your apartment?

the thought spiraled in your head. surely there had an excuse conjured somewhere up in your head. you cleared your throat, “never thought you’d be a lightweight.”

your words left your mouth in a hurry. it seemed a bit unnatural but at this point with bokuto wasted, you barely tipsy yet panicked that iwaizumi is on his way, and akaashi not knowing a single thing besides deliriously making ramen for his best friend—nothing about tonight was natural.

bokuto let out a playfully offended scoff, “i’m not! the alcohol was just strong tonight...”

“whatever you say, kou.” you mused with a smile that left bokuto’s heart racing.

your lips looked nice at the moment. with the dim florescent lights casting shadows upon your face, he wondered whether or not it was a good idea being this dangerously close to you. hell, now that you two were alone and akaashi was preoccupied this would be the perfect place to ask you the questions that had be plaguing his mind all day. that would have been the correct option, yet something within him wanted different with the way bokuto’s gaze flicked down to your lips.

you couldn’t help but notice the way he would look at you, deep brown eyes that would send red heat to your cheeks until it reached your ears. you weren’t exactly sure if he was going to do anything, but it wasn’t like you entirely opposed anyway.

bokuto cleared his throat suddenly as he pulled you both out of your trances. 

“can i ask you a question?”

your eyebrows furrow slightly with a tilt of your head, “hm?”

curiously filled you as hesitance drenched bokuto’s thoughts, drying out his mouth as he gulped his drunken nerves. “i know this is from a long time ago,” he starts, not even having enough courage to look at you. “but how come you never told me about your past relationships when we first started dating?”

bokuto’s words sobered him up—he needed to be i order to even comprehend an answer from you whether or not it would suffice. to no surprise did it catch you off guard either. as your eyes has widened into saucers, heart thumping against your ribcage, palm perspiring, all while you searched for a plausible answer in your head. you weren’t entirely sure if you should panic at the chance that bokuto did in fact find out about you and iwaizumi, or if he was just entirely curious.

it certainly didn’t matter if she lied, either, they were bound to find out now that both of them were in your life regularly and they’ve both read love cemetery, they are bound to find out sooner or later. bokuto and iwaizumi had all the clues placed out in front of them, it was just a matter of time when they would piece them all together and connect the dots.

you let out a shaky sigh. the best way to answer this was to be as calm as possible knowing bokuto was drunk and you weren’t entirely sure how he would react. “i just didn’t think think it was an important detail,” you mutter. it was neither a lie or the entire truth.

“i feel like it would’ve made sense to mention it at least.” says bokuto, “i mean... what happened to telling each other everything back then?”

god, you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now, especially when akaashi could easily walk back in. “i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, but it’s not like it’s relevant now, is it? it’s been years.”

“it’s still very much relevant, you know.”

“how so?”

but before bokuto could part his lips to answer, the doorbell rings, sending a sharp echo throughout the apartment. your body immediately stood up, flinching and completely grimacing at the idea that both your pieces are only a few meters apart.

you couldn’t here anything then as you made your way to the door. your the beat of your beat was so loud that you swear bokuto could hear it quicken as you turned the door knob.

capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you cracked the door open slightly with only your head peaking out through small opening.

“hey, (y/n),” the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, yet it still ended up comforting you more than expected. you just hoped bokuto couldn’t hear who it was.

“hi, iwaizumi.” you say almost in a harsh whisper.

you cursed yourself internally—of course out of all people, this would happen to you. you couldn’t help but grumble at the fact that surely this was some sort of karma life was giving you a universal punishment. whatever it was, you prayed it would end soon. maybe it should just put you out of your misery...

iwaizumi gave you a charming smile, the moonlight absolutely doing wonders as it casted shadows upon his chiseled face. seriously, can this guy get even more handsome?

you licked your lips absentmindedly at the thought of this as iwaizumi held up your belongings. “i brought your things! sorry for coming by so late, i just wanted to see you tonight.”

crimson red heat decorated your cheeks at his words. your thoughts were going hundreds of miles an hour just by your hands slightly brushing against each other as he handed you your jacket.

“thanks,” was all you could say.

it was calm and light as relief was almost near knowing you two were about to say your goodbyes. yet as fate always liked to give you the short end of the stick, footsteps clambered from behind you.

“(y/n), who’s there?” bokuto’s voice calls out to you rather loudly, causing your eyes to practically jump out of it’s sockets the moment the athlete pulled the door wide open. at the sudden jerky movement, bokuto revealed himself to a surprised athletic trainer.

his eyes blinked together multiple times as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you see, iwaizumi has always been a rational person when it came to misunderstanding and he would never ever jump to conclusions but at this rate, what else could he really assume seeing his ex-girlfriend and his coworker together late at night?

there was a boiling limbic inkling within iwaizumi that he wasn’t know what it was composed up. it was like a mix of annoyance and unsolicited anger that he couldn’t help but feel his muscles tense and his hands tighten into fists.

the silence that ensued you three was so violently loud that you didn’t know what to do. never in a million years would you have ever imagined that this is how it would all end.

this is how everything would come crumbling down.

fun facts! —

while bokuto was in the parking lot hesitating to go in, satomi was hyping him up the entire time

meanwhile satomi and iwaizumi were actually still at work during all this

satomi thought it was a good chance of alone time with him, but the entire night iwaizumi was hurrying to get his work done so he could see (y/n)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto smau #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi fluff

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #there you go i can't imagine any other way you would decide was necessary to tag this #perhaps now that i have thrown this up i can #something #i don't know how i was going to finish that sentence #shut up lady

[goldeneyedgirl]

Who’s ur favorite and least favorite twilight character and why?

LOL, oh man. Prepare for Discourse, Anon. 

My favourite character is Alice (that might be very obvious). I think she was wasted in Twilight, and that she has so much potential. 

She has no recollection of being human. She is a totally blank slate with a gift that is essentially an extra sense or limb. Like, this girl cannot be ‘okay’. I believe in my heart of hearts that Alice functions differently to other people. I mean, I infer from canon that her visions taught her everything that she needed to know - from how to feed, to how to convince Jasper, to how to join the Cullens. She’s going to get the wrong answer? She’ll change what she says!

And that is utterly fucking terrifying - especially if she was aware and doing it intentionally. But I do not think she is, in that sense. I just don’t think she would have any idea of how to live without her visions showing her what to do next. Alice is a hostage to her own gift, and always has been. 

Even her interactions with Bella and Edward in canon are really uncanny, like she’s playing a role - which is more reflective of SMeyer’s piss-poor writing ability than any sort of intention - but indicative that Alice is Not Okay, and kind of explains a lot about how the Cullen family is portrayed. 

A lot of what I love about Alice, and her relationship with Jasper, are things I’ve absorbed from fan-content - what we can infer from the information we’ve been given. Her conviction about her and Jasper, to me, is beautiful and both terribly childlike, and something someone who has suffered deeply would absolutely cling to as a lifeline. The idea that Jasper isn’t just her husband, but her very best friend and confidant as well, paints such a lovely picture of the symbiosis they have. I think that, whilst it’s normally Poised, Confident Alice to Rescue Struggling Depressed Jasper portrayed in fandom, that there is a distinctive possibility that two individuals who were both fucked over in the gift department and were holding onto reality by a strand found each other and rescued each other might be closer to the truth.

I also LOVE fashion, so I kind of get Alice on that level; and I treat Alice - when I write her - as someone with mental illness (like myself) because I find that very satisfying to write, and to explore. I can PROJECT, which is super fun.

Jasper’s a close second because holy moly, he has so much potential from a fic-writing perspective? This is a man who was not a good person as a human - like, there are Varying Reasons he would join the Confederate Army and be proud of being a Major, but that’s a TOTALLY different piece of discourse so we’ll put a pin in that because statistically, it meant he was a racist fighting for racist ideals. And THEN he is changed into a vampire and joins the Southern Wars, falling further into evil as far as violence, hate, and senseless death goes. 

Like this man was a full monster.

And it was eating him alive.

So he just walked away. Alice did not save him. Peter did not save him. Jasper walked away. Peter gave him the opportunity to do so. Alice offered him goals and a way to improve who he is. There’s nothing he can do about the evil he sowed, the legacy he has created. And he has to live with that every single day for eternity. Has to deal with the burn of his thirst, exacberated by years of gorging on human blood, every single day. There is no solution to/for Jasper. It’s one hell or another. And that is so much fun from a fic-writing perspective. 

Plus his dynamic with Maria is so crazy fun - Mother? Lover? General? What does ‘good terms’ even mean? I assume it’s code for ‘cold war’ or ‘not actively seeking the other’s destruction’, but who knows. I love that. 

Jessamine is also super fun and beloved by me, but that’s because she’s either Jasper-derivitive or my particular portrayal of a separate character, so she doesn’t count. 

As for my least favourite, that honour goes to Edward. Full disclosure, I have not read Midnight Sun, only skimmed parts, because the only thing worse than that would be reading EdBella fic. 

I think he’s an arrogant, misogynistic, controlling little brat, honestly. He’s above the rules and the laws when it suits him - at the cost to everyone - and he condemns Rosalie and Jasper so quickly and thoroughly with very little in-text justification. 

He says that Rosalie is vain - well, Captain Dipshit, maybe after being violently and fatally gang-raped by a group including her fiance Rosalie might deal with a lot of body issues - and copes with them the best way she can. Maybe after being raised with a priority of being beautiful above all else, and then harmed in such a grotesque way because of her beauty, and then becoming more beautiful might fuck with your mental health a little, Eddie.

Edward has a bad habit of classifying women in absolutes like Madonna/Whore, depending on his personal beliefs - which, as a frozen 17 year old from the 1900s, is fairly goddamn dubious. Rosalie and Tanya are both ‘bad’, Esme, Alice, and Bella are all ‘good’. But there are no women that Edward fully ‘trusts’ or allows to ‘win’/direct him. He prizes Bella because of her unreadable mind - she is a puzzle and something to possess. They are never partners. Edward uses Alice, Who Tries Her Very Best, as a weapon against Bella multiple times. I often wonder if it isn’t Edward who encourages Alice, off-page/off-screen, to play dress-ups, to make Bella into what Edward expects in a wife. 

Edward is over-indulged by both Esme and Carlisle; honestly, with his gift, I wouldn’t be surprised if he manipulates the family into their slightly toxic dynamic (it’s hard to tell because of SMeyer’s obvious bias, and the perspective of the novels) because it benefits him so much. It puts him second only to Carlisle - Jasper cannot be trusted despite his comprehensive understanding of vampires, especially when it comes to turf battles, and Emmett’s just a frat boy. Or is this the portrait Edward has painted so he gets to be #1 Son?

Edward is the goddamn architect of every disaster the Cullens face because what he wants is dangerous and illegal. Without Edward’s Volterra Tantrum, Aro never would have challenged the Cullens in Breaking Dawn. Victoria’s attack would have been neutralised before the Cullens even got wind of it. Bella never would have gone cliff-diving or solo-hiking if Edward hadn’t dumped her in the cruelest way possible. 

I honestly, truly believe that Edward shouldn’t have had a mate, let alone a wife and child. 

Also, movie!Edward looked like he needed a fucking shower and a flea dip in nearly every scene. 

Bella’s a close second because I have known girls like Bella and fuck me, they are deeply unpleasant to be friends with. She fucks over EVERYONE in pursuit of Edward. I understand that she doesn’t have the same interests as Alice, but not once just she make a suggestion for an alternative activity or a compromise (and that could be Bad Writing again, because Bella appears to have very few hobbies beyond ‘reading’ but it’s what we’re working with). 

In fact, I would argue that Alice tries her very best to be Bella’s friend, but it’s a futile attempt - Bella tolerates Alice because of Alice’s proximity to Edward. If Alice had been a human student at Forks High, you can bet that Bella would have dumped her as fast as possible. Bella has very few moments where she’s positive about the people around her outside of the Cullens (by association with Edward) or Jacob. Charlie gets mostly pity. Everyone else is looked upon with disapproval and judgement (which, again, reflects toxic writing tropes.) 

And Bella martyrs herself at every opportunity. There’s a lot of discourse where Bella’s neglectful childhood is examined, but Bella fucking lunges into the ‘victim’ role at every possibility. And ultimately, I really don’t see Bella maturing or learning anything at all through the series. It’s always about what she wants, above everything else. She succeeds because she and Edward are incredibly selfish individuals who are enabled by the parental figures around them. 

Second runner-up is Carlisle. 

#alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight discourse #twilight renaissance #bella swan #edward cullen #my thoughts #Anonymous

[the-silentium]

The Lost Future Pt.1

Masterlist   Part 2

Pairing: soulmate!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where the soulmates share their wounds. || Along with your brother, you are transported into the 1960's with a bunch of kids you don't know. Turns out they are trying to stop the 2019 apocalypse and you are playing a key part of it.

Words: 4590 words

Warnings: Violence, blood, swears, racism. 

A/N: Hi readers! This fic' was too long to be posted in one part, so I divided it in three distinct part. The next part will come out pretty quickly, seeing as it it already written but not proof read yet. Please, let me some comebacks in the comments or send me a request!

Groans erupted from your throat, a clear indication that your peaceful slumber has been disrupted by some unknown pull. Your heavy eyelids fluttered open with difficulty, the need to sleep omnipresent in your system. A bright blue light forced you to squint while tears formed slowly thanks to its harsh brightness. Before your foggy brain could comprehend what was happening, the glow intensified in a blinding flash and the sudden feeling of free-falling gave you nausea. 

The fall was brutal, your whole body crashed on the ground like an inanimate puppet. Your hands flew to your face with a pained cry, covering the painful spot that was your nose in an attempt to soothe the suffering nerves. To say that you were confused was an understatement. One moment, you were peacefully asleep and the next you were… where? You removed your hands from your face, a pounding sensation still beating under your skin and shrieked as your eyes landed on a disgustingly big spider weaving its web between two oversized blades of grass. You jumped aside, eager to put distance between yourself and the arachnid, when your eyes met the magnificent blue sky, as clear as ever, with the sun nearing its peak. The warmth of its rays touched delicately your cheeks achieving to bring a smile to your lips. It has been a really long time since you last sunbathed and today would have been a perfect day to do it if it weren’t for the strange situation you just found yourself in. 

At the foot of a nearby tree laid a brown-haired boy cursing under his breath. He must have scratched his knee somewhere, looking as he was slouched over himself trying to alleviate the pain as you did moments ago. Your eyes traveled up, analyzing the familiar form. His outfit resembled yours, his tousled hair the same shade as yours… You jumped to your feet in a hurry when his green gaze met yours. 

"Roo!" You exclaimed, running toward your twin. The teenager only had a second to prepare himself before his body was tackled to the ground by an incredible force. His yelp made you laugh before he pushed you aside, adding another fall on the list of today's activities. Once he got a good look at you, Andrew’s eyes widen. Some tears formed in his eyes, but before they could escape and run freely down his cheeks, he threw himself at your neck, hugging you with all his might. 

"Y/N!" His strangled voice was muffled by your neck. Your arms wrapped around his body, mirroring his grip. "I missed you too, Roo," You whispered in his neck. Finally, you reunited with the only person in the whole world that understood you more than yourself. 

Pushing you at arm length, Andrew’s eyes scanned you like an awk. "How is that possible?" He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. "You-" Your laugh made him jump and clearly, he was beginning to think that you came back missing some brain cells. Patting his shoulder, a smirk stretched your lips. 

"Don't sound so disappointed." You flicked his forehead, just like you used to do when you were kids and you were teasing him. "I might think that you don't like me." 

Andrew groaned and pushed you off. Getting up snickering, you brushed off the dirt on your clothes. You had missed it, this perpetual teasing. You both could bicker and argue all you wanted, but you would always recover in no time, never holding a grudge against the other without having to talk about it. 

"What the fuck!" Andrew's yell made you look up. He pulled his clothes forward, examining and patting his body like he never saw it before. "No, no, no… Why am I thirteen again?" His head shot up, his green gaze back on you showing his confusion. "What did you do?" 

Taking a step back, you put a hand on your chest. "What did I do?" You replied in a defensive tone. "I didn't do shit! Four minutes ago I was-" Your sentence died as your eyes caught on your surroundings. Old cars you’ve had only seen in movies rolled on the streets, ladies walked by wearing old fashioned dresses of various flashy colors and various patterns, different stores displayed proudly their retro signs for all to see. Were you in one of the small American towns that were stuck in time? 

"What the…" You heard your brother mutter in sync with yourself. The thought to pinch yourself passed your mind, after all, you did have some really weird dreams recently with all the stuff that happened in your life. Or maybe you watched too much Supernatural in the last months.  

Turning around to try and make sense of the scenery, you noticed high buildings beyond the line of trees. If they were anything to go by, you would say that you ended up in a urban park in some random city. The transportation method was still unknown, but that was something you could figure out later. 

Women in colorful dresses walked slowly talking to each other on a stone walkway. Some of them pushed baby carriers around while others looked in the twins direction, a hand flying to their mouth, eyes growing as wide as saucers. Looking down, you felt your heart accelerate. You were wearing a pair of black basketball shorts along with a light grey tank top that said: "If I was a bird, I know who I'd shit on". Clearly, you didn’t have the proper attire for this period of time. Andrew was in the same predicament as yourself, with his basketball shorts and his "I play hockey because punching people for no reason is frowned upon" shirt. 

Getting a hold of Andrew's wrist, you started to walk away from the outraged women who seemed to be harshly whispering between them, their manicured fingers pointed at them. Would it have been your own modern age town, you would have assumed entirely your choice of clothing, but here, where you didn’t know jack shit about how the people would react? You kept it in and walked away. 

"Hey! You two from the 21st century!" Shocked, you stopped in your tracks and turned to meet a brown-haired boy running in your direction. His school uniform was vaguely familiar, although you couldn’t put your finger on where you knew it from. "You guys got transported too!" The boy finally reached them. He was all smile and his bubbly presence made you relax immediately. You noticed six other kids wearing the same uniform walking after their comrade. It reassure you that the majority of the group seemed as lost as your brother and yourself. Maybe you could stick with them for a while. You noticed that they had an unconscious girl with them. You wondered if her state was caused by a fall or by another unknown reason. 

"Transported? What are you talking about?" Andrew stepped closer, positioning himself right beside you. He was three inches taller than you and surpassed the new boy by a good one inch. 

Bubbly guy turned around, pointing vaguely at one of his approaching friend. "Five time-traveled us here. In the past! So we could stop the a-," a hand on Bubbly's mouth prevented him from saying more. 

Before you had time to question the sanity of Five's parents for choosing such a name or ask how one could time-travel back in time, cold blue eyes glared holes in Bubbly's head while maintaining pressure on his mouth. "Shut it. We already have enough attention on us like that." True to his words, people were watching their little group intently, some of them stopping in their tracks to openly stare at them. 

The steady rhythm in your ribcage was quickly disturbed by the harsh blue gaze falling on you. A beat or two were skipped, your body too entranced to remember that this muscle was indeed vital to your survival. "We can't talk here." A smirk stretched his lips when his eyes trailed down to your tank top. For a completely unknown reason your body answered to his apparent approval by creating some butterflies in your belly. Swiftly, he removed his jacket and handed it to you. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you stared at him, then the jacket and back at him. "I'm not cold thank you." You said confused. Rolling his eyes, Smug Face kept handing you the piece of clothing. "If you walk around looking like that, you might get arrested. People in this decade aren't that open yet." He clarified in an impatient tone.

You didn’t know much about "this decade", but you can feel that he was definitely right. The people around seemed extremely judgemental and unappreciative of your appearance. Sighing, you uncrossed your arms and took the jacket, making sure to not touch the boy's finger in the process. The last thing you needed was your heart stopping indefinitely because it short-circuited at his contact. 

"Fine." The black jacket was surprisingly comfortable and light on your shoulders. The coffee scent that lingered on it was quite enjoyable and you found yourself gripping the slightly too long sleeves. Looking down, it seemed like you were wearing a weird looking black dress. If you kept your legs close to each other, that is. Smug Face looked satisfied of your appearance and nodded. His mouth opened to speak again, only to be cut by another. 

"Wait. How do we know we can trust you?" Oh, Andrew. Always there to protect you from any harm. Speaking of which, his right arm found its place on your shoulders while his query gaze was fixed to the unconscious girl in one of the boys’ arms. 

At that, Smug Face stared at him, seemingly getting colder. "Really?" He rolled his eyes once again and scoffed, turning around. He took off toward a street, muttering to the others to follow him. Some of his companions followed right behind him after sending them curious and apologetic glances. Bubbly and a girl stayed behind, waiting for the newcomers. 

The girl sighed and offered her hand to shake. "I'm Allison. Sorry about Five, he's a bit rude."  Bubbly scoffed at that, muttering something about a grouchy old man. "The girl is our sister, Vania. She fell unconscious before we time-traveled. Look, I know you don't have to, but you can trust us." Deep inside you, you knew that they were trustworthy. Anyway, if you were proven to be wrong, all you had to do was use your power and get the hell out of there with Andrew. Smiling, you shook Allison's hand before pointing to your brother. 

"That's Andrew, I'm Y/N. And don't worry," You pointed at the nosey people still watching their little group, "between the old-timers and you guys, I choose you guys." 

Allison chuckled while Bubbly, who presented himself as Klaus, cheered and led the way to catch up with their siblings. 

The walk to a small isolated house took a good 20 minutes. In this time, you talked with the rest of the group, getting to know them a bit. 

You learned that the familiarity you found in their uniform was caused by their worldwide superheroes reputation. You remember watching the news one day, 6 of them displaying in front of a crowd, proud faces daring someone or something to come at them and try and beat them. You remember feeling proud of being born on the same day as them. You were all special after all. 

However, they weren't as invincible as you once thought in your young innocence. Apparently, they failed in preventing an apocalypse in 2019 and ended up travelling through time to survive, which failed once again because you all were back in your early teen age. The idea of being stuck in the past for your whole life was weird to say the least and you hoped that you would find a way to get back home. 

Most importantly though, you learned that Klaus was your favorite out of the group. He was carefree, almost too much sometimes, and was not afraid to be himself. You laughed along with him during a big part of the walk, the both of you mocking the outraged faces of the 1963 grown-ups when they got a good look of Andrew's shirt or Allison's too short skirt for their time. 

Luther clearly didn't trust the two addition to their little group. He shot some glances your and Andrew's way from time to time, clearly trying to judge if you were a threat or not. At one point, he asked Allison to walk with him. It may have sound innocent but you knew he wanted to protect her from you. You didn't need a power to find out, his eyes were talkative enough. 

Diego was at least approachable. He didn't talk much, but didn't reject you either. He seemed funny on first glance and you hoped that you would have a chance to talk to him more. 

Finally, there was Five. For you, he was a total mystery.  He didn't turned around once, too concentrated to get to his destination and not once did he answer his siblings when they asked where he was leading them. He totally ignored the people watching him like he had two heads, sometimes glaring at those who were too close to him, but mainly kept his eyes right ahead. 

You reached a cute little yellow house with rows of beautiful purple flowers framing the door. Pansies you think they are named. You were sure that there would be a lovely old lady greeting you at the door with a nice smell of cookies floating in the air, but to your disappointment, a musty smell gripped you at the throat instead, along with dust entering your lungs. 

You coughed a bit just like everyone who entered before you minus Five. He seemed immune to his environment, still walking like he hadn't reached his destination yet. 

"Five, the hell are we doing here?" Diego's voice echoed through the silent rooms. You wandered into the little living room, barely dodging Klaus who just threw himself on the first couch he saw. A cloud of dust erupted of the old cushion, like an explosion suffocating the brunette who quickly got back on his feet. You laughed at his antics when a hand got a hold of your arm and pulled you toward a door. 

"Come on Panda. They went this way." Andrew released you when you followed after him. The door lead to a basement, where everyone was gathered around Five. 

"Thank you for finally joining us." The sarcasm caught your attention, your eyes travelling to the source only to find his gaze on you, reanimating the flutters in your belly. Damn butterflies, you'll need to find a fly swatter soon. "Now we can concentrate on stopping the apocalypse." You froze. The what now? 

"The hell?" "Did you just say a-" both yours and Andrew's voice died in your throat when Five lifted the corner of a carpet, throwing it at your feet and gripped two wood planks. If he hadn't lifted the two planks like he did, you would never have thought that they were movable. 

"Holy shit! You have your own batcave?" Klaus jumped before Five in the hole in the ground. Five followed suit, threatening Klaus of mutilation if he touched anything. Luther moved his unconscious sister in his arms and entered the hole. Your curiosity to see what was down there got the best of you, so you did one step toward the hole before you were stopped in your tracks. 

"Woa. We can't go down there. We don't know them." Roo's uneasiness was clear. He didn't trusted them and being stuck underground wasn't helping. "No offense," he watched Allison and Diego, who stayed behind waiting for them, "but you guys might be killers for all we know!" 

A blur passed in your field of vision, passing under your brother's chin and hitting the wall. 

"Don't you fucking dare call us killers. We save people." With each words, Diego got closer to Andrew, growing the tension in the room as he went. 

"And you think that they'll trust us when you throw knives at them?" Allison grabbed her sibling's arm and pulled him back, away from Andrew's face. 

"They have to if they want to come back from here." Five's voice coming from behind you made you jump. You hasn't seen him exit the hole nor did you hear his steps. "And we don't have time to waste. The clock is ticking." His tone let no place to negotiate. He was losing patience. And fast. 

"To stop the apocalypse?" The hope of returning home, to your family and friends was relieving. If you could do something to save them in 2019, you would definitely do everything to make sure that happened. 

"Yes and if we want to have a chance to do it, we must start to plan. Now." A sigh on your left made you relax. Andrew finally admitted defeat, allowing you to follow Five who disappeared under the ground again. 

You stopped in awe at the underground living room. A bunker. The perfect hideout to plan to stop an apocalypse. 

…………………………….

Your brain felt like it was going to explode at any second. After Five had thrown spare clothes to everyone, the Hargreeves had taken an hour or so to explain what happened in 2019 and you were now trying to elaborate a plan against an organisation named the Commission. Sadly, every ideas were quickly rejected by an impatient and highly irritated Five. 

Klaus' whines about his empty stomach was getting on the boy's nerves for the last half hour, but you couldn't stop yourself before finally agreeing and proposing to go get some take out. Thinking with an empty stomach was too much to ask for and by the looks of it, Five would never be satisfied by anyone's idea. 

Cheers resonated in the room making you chuckles while Five rolled his eyes. 

"I'm coming with!" Klaus cheerfully tapped your shoulder and lead the way out of the bunker. 

"Me too! You'll need someone to "pay" for the food." Allison chuckled along with you. You shot a questioning glance at your brother, only to be answered with a shake of his head. You knew he would probably use this time to snoop around the bunker and get to know who he was plotting with.  Just as you were about to exit the house with your 2 new friends, a blue flash on your right caught your attention. 

"I'm coming." Every damn time! The second you hear that damn melodious voice, your heartbeat accelerates! Were you ill? Was your body trying to tell you something? Warn you against him? 

"Believe me, old brother dear! We really don't want to know!" Hands moving in the air like a lunatic, Klaus turned on himself to face you, walking backwards. You barely had time to slap a hand on your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at the boy. "You just want coffee, say it." He added on a more serious tone. 

"I'm here to make sure that you newbies don't alter the timeline more than it already is." Allison ignored Five's irritated comment and nudged your arm. 

"Hey, sorry about Diego earlier. He really takes his vigilante work seriously." You shrugged it off, it wasn't a big deal to you. You were a bit carefree but not careless. You had good instincts and you knew that you could trust your guts telling you that they were good allies. 

"It's fine. Sorry for my brother, Roo really crossed a line, calling you killers like that." You paused, trying to find the right words to describe your situation. "He's just really confused. One minute we are relaxing at home and the next we are back in our teenage body in an old american city." You frown, looking at the ground. A delicate hand found your shoulder and squeezed softly. 

"I forgot to ask!" You jumped at Klaus' sudden exclamation. "Where are you guys from? I can't place your accent!" 

You scratched your neck, an embarrassed smile forming on your face. "Sorry for the accent." A nervous laugh escaped your lips. "My brother and I are French Canadian. We grew up learning French and English, but I'm way more fluent in French as it's my mother tongue." You were not embarrassed of your country in the slightest. You loved Canada, it was just that a certain piercing blue pair of eyes was glued to you ever since you left the house and they started making you nervous. 

Klaus gasped before reaching your side to throw an arm around your shoulder and pull your smaller form into his side. "Our polite neighbors! You don't have to worry, your English is impéccable so far!" You giggled, happy to know that your nationality won't be an issue. 

"So you were in Canada and you still time-travelled?" Five's sudden question surprised you. During the whole way to the nearest diner, he had remained silent, listening and analysing. His incredulous tone made you perplexed. Was it wrong? You opened the door to the others before answering the question. 

"Looks like i-" A fist hit the counter in front of you, making you jump. Your heartbeat accelerated for a second, the silence in the diner deafening to your ears and rising your nervosity. Every pair of eyes in the room was directed at you, more so at Allison. You perceived her anxiety and immediately, your hand found hers in a weak attempt to appease her. The way her fingers tightly interlaced with yours despite her keeping a strong exterior alerted you that she was shrinking inside. 

The looks on the patrons faces made you sick. You recognized those looks. Disgust. Anger. Superiority. For a moment, you had forgotten that a lot of people in these years hated the people of color and that they suffered great injustices. 

The clerk behind the counter with his haughty air, pointed a sign behind him. The sight made you gnash. Whites only. Oh how you wanted to show him how colourful he could get if you hit him hard enough. You opened your mouth at the same moment as Klaus, but the both of you were interrupted by none other than Five. 

"We're leaving." Your eyes went wide, quickly turning to him to yell at him instead, but were cut off by his hand pulling you out harshly along with Allison. The second you were outside, you pulled your hand back as hard as you could, nearly elbowing Klaus in the stomach when Five let you go. 

"Why are you letting them win?" You spat. Some patrons were still eyeing you through the front window, contentment dripping from their features. You nearly decided to get back inside and speak your mind. 

"There's nothing we can do about that. Drop it." Your blood was still boiling in your veins. You wanted justice. You wanted to punch the clerk's and patron's smug faces until their thick skull understood that people of color or not, everyone had the same rights. You were all humans. You were all sentient beings. 

"It's fine. Let's go." Allison's weak smile didn't even reached her eyes. As much as you hated to, you dropped it nevertheless. Pushing the matter wouldn't do anyone any good so you followed Five towards another diner, your morale at its lowest. He and Klaus went inside to get the food while you waited with Allison outside. You two settled on a bench near the diner so the boys would find you easily and started softly passing rocks at each other with your feet.  

"You must miss them." You frowned at the affirmation. 

"Who?" 

"Your soulmate and your family." Her sad eyes met yours. It was at this moment that you realised that she looked utterly tired. It pulled at your heart to see her in this state. 

"I never met my soulmate. But I do miss my family a lot." You recalled your mom who stroked your hair when your weren't feeling good, your dad who would always figure out a way to cheer you up and your dog who would always be a sunshine and sleep over your covers to keep you warm whenever you felt cold. Lowering your head because of the tears forming in your eyes, you blinked several times to subtly kept them at bay. Years of hiding your tears caused you to improve your own technique and become an expert. 

"You'll meet him, one day." You slowly nod your head, keeping your gaze low. "You say "never" like it was definitive, but when we get back in 2019, there's still a chance that you'll find him." She pat your shoulder, smiling softly. You returned her smile. You were about to ask about her own soulmate when something shiny caught your eyes. The sun reflected off a metallic surface, which you quickly attributed to a knife. 

Before you could register what happened, your brain forced your hand to move and grab the knife in a strong grip. The pain was excruciating. The feeling of a thousand paper cuts all happening at once, cutting through your flesh and leaving a burning feeling in your palms and fingers made you grunt. As much as you wanted to drop the knife, you couldn't. Because if you were to release your grip on the weapon, the moron who tried to stab your friend would get what he wanted. 

Only when he pulled back on the knife, cutting deeper into your flesh, did you screamed and fell on your knees. You heard your name but you were too focussed trying to keep the pain at bay, squeezing your wrist in vain. The burning intensified, along with your heartbeat resonating into your hand. A soft touch on your back brought you back to reality. The moron had apparently took out, leaving you with Allison, Klaus and a disheveled Five. 

"Wait, you're cut too?" 

You couldn't concentrate. Your head along with your hand were pounding, blood pooling between your fingers and tainting your newly acquired old pants. For a moment, all you could see was the deep red of your blood, slowly oozing from the deep gashes in your palm and phalanges. It was mesmerizing and terrifying. You haven't been hurt to the point of bleeding in… years? It wasn't something you missed in the slightest. 

Then your world became blue. The most beautiful and calming shade of blue you've ever seen. It happened in a flash and suddenly you were back in the bunker under the yellow house. No more calming blue, no more street, no more cars. No more bubble. 

"What the hell happened!?" Andrew's body filled your vision while his beaming voice filled your ears. 

"Stop screaming. That's unnecessary." You were certain that if Five hadn't knelt on your side and showed you his hand, Andrew would have definitely jumped at his throat and strangled him. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blood on his hand. Both your cuts were 100% identical. "That explain why you got teleported from Canada." The tiniest of smile graced his features. "Hey soulmate." 

You didn't know how you two being soulmates allowed you to time-travel, but you knew two things: you were screwed and the butterflies will keep dancing in your stomach for the rest of your life.

Part 2

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #my fic #the umbrella academy #tua s1 #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #soulmate

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

Hiya! Hopefully its not too late to submit? Could I request a Halloween smut fic with Nathan x f reader please? Thank you so much :D

https:(://)gifer(dot)com/en/5F49

Sheehanoween!

Champagne Buzz

Nathan Young x Fem!Reader Warnings: so much smut. swearing, drinking...more smut Note: I envisioned this as an AU to when they got rich after disclosing their powers. Maybe it could have turned out better if that jealous dairy prick hadn’t ruined everything for them. I suppose we’ll never know, but this fic might help you revel in that idea if only for a short while.

Nathan and the rest of the ASBO gang had been invited to attend a Halloween party at a posh club on the top floor of one of the nicer local hotels. The party had a masquerade theme, so it was mandatory to dress in formal attire and wear fancy masks. Nathan wore a black tuxedo, and his mask was a midnight blue accented with whirls of metallic copper, covering only his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Somehow it accentuated his green eyes beautifully and they shimmered like emeralds under the lights of the club. You chose a body-hugging floor-length black satin dress, and your masquerade mask was gold and accentuated with a peacock feather. When Nathan saw you walk into the club, he whistled. “Babe,” he said. “You look good enough to eat, and I intend to do precisely that later.”

“Promise?” you said, tipping your head back to give him a kiss.

You danced for hours. You danced so much that you had to kick off your heels, placing you at a distinct height disadvantage with Nathan, but you made it work.  By the time the party came to a close, everyone was quite thoroughly blitzed.  

You all made your way down to the second floor indoor pool area, some with their arms slung over companions’ shoulders, others still gripping bottles of champagne.  Fourteen floors was a lot of stairs for drunk people, so the majority of you crammed into elevators, giggling and acting like teenagers.  You had become separated from Nathan when you got onto one of the elevators; you didn’t even realize he wasn’t there until after the doors had closed. He must have had to wait for another one.

You burst out laughing when you entered the pool area. Some of your group had already gotten there, but the sight of Curtis lounging on a pool float in nothing but black boxer briefs, black socks, and his black tie gave you the fits.  You slipped away to strip down to your matching black satin bra and panties, and you put on a white terrycloth robe and returned to the pool room.

A few minutes later, the stairwell door burst open and Nathan sauntered out.  He had his suit jacket off, his vest undone, and his shirt was unbuttoned almost to the bottom of his sternum.  His tie was untied and was draped around his neck like a scarf.  He had his jacket slung over one shoulder and held a bottle of champagne in his hand. 

“There you are!” he slurred, grinning. You laughed.

“You took the stairs? You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck in that state!”

“I’m immortal!” he retorted with the air of a misguided hero. Then, belatedly, he noticed you were wearing a robe.  "What’re you doing!? Have you got any knickers on?!“  He had attempted to whisper, but really ended up shouting it instead.  Several heads turned in your direction.

"Will you hush!  I’m wearing my underwear. It’s fine.”

“Oooh,” he said, lifting the bottom flap of your robe to peek at you. You smacked his hand away.

“You’ll see soon enough.  Now go put the bits of your suit you don’t want to ruin someplace safe.”

‘Someplace safe’ ended up being the back of a lounge chair, but you figured it would do.  

The sounds of splashing indicated that people were enjoying the pool, but you were more interested in getting a drink, so you went to the cabana bar to get one.  You returned to the pool area and sat in the chair next to Kelly.  You smiled at her and lifted your glass.  "Cheers!“

She smiled back and clinked your glass with hers.  You both drank, and she sighed.  "I’m so glad we finally have some fuckin’ money.”

“Hell yeah,” you chuckled. “As long as it doesn’t go to Nathan’s head.”

Kelly laughed. “Fat chance o’ that. Look at him.” She gestured toward Nathan, who was attempting to carry five more bottles away from the bar without dropping one.

You laughed in earnest, watching him contort himself to bring the bottles back to the pool successfully. “Well,” you said, “at least we can enjoy it for a little while.”

You and Kelly chatted and drank for a few minutes, enhancing your buzz.

"Now,” you announced, standing up.  "I think the time has come to jump in this fucking pool.“

She laughed, and stood up with you.  "That sounds like a great fucking plan.”

You shed your robe, and she stripped off her dress, revealing a red strapless bra and matching bikini knickers.

“After you?” You gestured to the pool.

“No way– on three,” she laughed.  "One…two….three!“

Together, you ran and jumped into the pool. You surfaced, laughing.  Other people squealed in surprise at your sudden entry.  You scanned the room and found Nathan, who had been sitting and talking to Simon.  He was looking at you with his mouth open.  You hooked a finger toward him in invitation.  He stood up, peeled of his shirt and pushed his trousers down.  He kicked off his shoes and socks and stood in nothing but dark blue boxer briefs.  He ran and did a cannonball, sending water flying everywhere.  He surfaced, shaking his head.

"Dammit Nathan!”  Curtis yelled, dumping out the rest of his champagne that he had been sipping as he floated. Nathan’s splash had filled the glass almost to the brim with pool water. “Prick!”

“Sorry man,” Nathan called.

You swam over to him and wrapped your legs around his lower torso and your arms around his neck.  "The water feels nice, doesn’t it?” You asked.

“Oh yeah it does.”  He said, before bending his head to kiss you deeply and thoroughly.  After a moment, you heard a series of theatrical retching noises.

“Blah, get a room, will ya!” Alicia shouted.

You spent the next two hours having the time of your life.  The drinks and the laughter were flowing, and there was a celebratory atmosphere that was infectious.  An overwhelming sense of pride at what the group had accomplished by telling the truth about their powers mingled with the relief of it all finally being out in the open.  

Later, Nathan and you sat in robes, nuzzling each other at the cabana bar.  "Will you come to my room tonight?“ Nathan purred.

"Oh yes,” you replied without any hesitation, making him chuckle.  He bent to plant kisses along your clavicle, causing you to break out into gooseflesh.  

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” he asked, and the two of you gathered up your things, said goodbye to everyone, and slipped out.

You ran to the elevator, and once inside, attacked each other again. You exited the elevator in this fashion, still kissing and groping one another, heedless of being spotted.  It felt like you waited an eternity for him to fish out his key card one-handed and successfully unlock his room door.

One he got the door unlocked, he scooped you up and you squealed and giggled as he carried you into the room. He carried you straight back to the bed, and he threw you down onto it.  He looked down at you with a fierce expression; you were about to get fucked, and you couldn’t wait.

He grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you toward him so your ass was right at the edge of the bed.  He pulled your knickers off of you, tossing them somewhere absentmindedly.  You were completely exposed from the waist down, and you could feel the heat and moisture of your excitement take root. 

He ripped off his robe and pushed his boxer briefs down, throwing them aside.  You smiled salaciously at the sight of his cock. Nathan reached between your legs and lightly brushed your wetness with his fingertips.

“Oooh,” he cooed.  "You’re excited, aren’t ye darlin’?“

"Fuck yes,” you said, breathlessly.

He sank down and knelt before you, him on the floor and you at the edge of the bed. He spread your legs wide and moved in to taste your cunt. You gasped as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, circling first, then lapping up the length of your slit. He buried his head in deeper, increasing the pressure, and you arched your back and entwined your fingers into his curls. You panted and moaned as he lavished your sex with his tongue, and you cried out as your climax started to build. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked, sending you over the edge, and you rode out your first orgasm with your legs shaking.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he stood, fixing you with heavy lidded eyes, licking your moisture from his lips. 

“Did ye like that?” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal.

“Yes,” you said. “I need your cock Nathan,” you whined.

Wordlessly, he gripped his cock at the base and thrust it into you roughly.  You gasped and arched your back at the shock of him filling you so suddenly.  He held you by the ankles and repeatedly slammed into you, his hips slapping against your ass audibly.  He was not being gentle tonight, and that suited you more than fine.

He grunted softly as he pounded you roughly, and you cried out loudly as your next orgasm overtook you suddenly and powerfully.  You felt your walls pulsing tightly against his shaft as the waves of ecstasy washed over you, and every other muscle in your body seized up as if you had just been electrocuted.  You gripped the blankets on either side of you tightly as you screamed.  

Without warning, he withdrew from you, knelt down again, and assaulted your clit once more with his tongue.  The sensation of his tongue on you so soon after your climax was almost more than you could handle.  Your nerves were so sensitive that he sent you over the edge again almost immediately, your hips bucking as you clawed at his hair.  You felt him chuckle softly against your thigh before he stood up again.

He grabbed your hips and flipped you over without uttering a single word or command.  He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind you, and thrust himself back in.  He banged you thoroughly in this manner for quite some time while you screamed and buried your face in the pillow.  Again and again you came; never before had you ever known such pleasure.

"Nathan!” you screamed.  "Fuck! God!“  The only thing your mind seemed to be capable of was screaming his name or swearing.  You were so loud, that you were positive the occupant of the next room was most likely wide awake and hearing everything.  Fortunately, you didn’t give a shit.

Finally Nathan came, and he exploded into you with a moan, and you could feel his balls twitch against the back of your ass as he pumped his load into you.  He ground his hips against yours one last time as he finished, and collapsed to the side, breathing heavily.  

"Oh…my…god…” he panted.  It was the first thing he had said in a while.

You flopped down next to him, your limbs completely spent.  "You’re telling me.  God Nathan. How do you do that?“

He chuckled softly.  "You know I sometimes wonder if I gained some extra fuck power from the storm. My stamina is off the charts.” He spoke the words almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

You laughed.  "I am certainly not complaining.”

Before too long, the two of you fell fast asleep as you lay together; naked, limbs entwined, happy, champagne-drunk, and totally fucked into oblivion.

#nathan young x reader #misfits fic #robert sheehan character fic #sheehanoween #smut

[themilky-way]

nightcrawler {t.holland}

gif credit: tommyhoelland2013

pairing: mafia!tom holland x fem!reader

summary: your original task was to satisfy your midnight cravings. what you find is something you don’t quite expect. based on this ask. 

warnings: minor hints of violence, mentions of stalking, language, and SMALL  nsfw bc its mafia!tom what do you want from mE

author’s note: haven’t written for tom in a while and this request spurred up some thoughts lmao. ALSO i tweaked this a lil bit hope u don’t mind :)

----------

everything residing inside the proportionally small bedroom was brought to life in almost an instant. with a single yank, the curtains covering the glass windows gave way to a clear view of the moon, allowing its illuminating rays to seep through. the outline of a messy, disheveled bed was puzzled together, with accompanying piles of clothes scattered across the room. a pair of slippers waited patiently next to the door for their owner to retrieve them, and with the sudden entry of glimmering light, it wouldn’t be long until someone did. 

it had all started with a simple rumble of your stomach. there wasn’t much to it, nor would you have ever thought it would escalate this bad. you had been given quite a luscious meal, large enough to get you through the night without residual hunger. so, the idea of skipping dessert altogether seemed appropriately reasonable. however, as the night wore on, you began noticing a distinct noise deep in your belly. you ignored it at first, but as soon as you’d permit your eyes to close, the feeling returned more painful than before. now, here you were: on a mission to indulge in a much-needed snack. 

you should at least have a bite, he had told you. you might regret it if you don’t. it had been silly of you to have denied his suggestion. he had meant well by it, too-always had, and most likely always will-but now the thought of possibly being caught by him doing exactly what you had refused to do was awkward. the spoon in your hand was already digging into a scoop of ice cream amidst this ludicrous internal conflict of yours, and as soon as the rich flavor of chocolate reached your senses, everything troubling you faded away. should listen to him more often, you pondered. 

 the old-fashioned clock hanging from above the fridge appeared to stop clicking with each mouthful of the decadent dessert, and if the man who had offered you a home in his luxurious estate teased you for this later, you simply would not care. after a particularly large bite though, an echoed grunt sounded in the next room, causing you to set the nearly empty jar on the counter. whoever that was-they sounded angry. your curious mind prompted your feet to move cautiously across the cold tiles with no regard to the possibility of it being an intruder. it seemed as if tonight you were on a quest to find something-anything-that would give you a thrill. yes, if someone was in fact in his home, and if by chance you were the one who discovered them, it wouldn’t be so exhilarating. yet, as your feet traversed further into the dark halls, and your brain continued joining dangerous situations together, you mindlessly wandered into something damn near close to threatening.

“tom?” a faint, quivering voice questioned. an innocent, ignorant little mouse caught in a trap. a pair of eyes shot up to meet your horror-struck features, taking in every possible detail they could make out through the obscurity of the room. then, he smiled. a small, deceiving curve of his lips made your heart jump hurdles, and right now, it was difficult to pinpoint whether it was fear or something a little more than infatuation. 

“darling, i’m so glad you decided to join us.” the dark-suited man stood up straight, a hand extended towards you invitingly. by now, it was evident that tom never asked politely, never offered anything to anyone; he just took whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. which is why his rough palm had now enveloped your tiny one. he adjusted the cushion behind you so you could have a seat, advising you that your line of vision had to be vast if you were to see what came next. 

“what-no! who the hell is that! why is he-oh god-why is he tied up!” a meek attempt at rising up from the couch was ceased by a strong pair of hands gripping either of your thighs. it shouldn’t have provided you a passive wave of goosebumps on your skin, not from something so minimal. he felt them, too; the rush of your skin and how it was suddenly so cold, and now it was damn near-boiling. his orbs were obsidian, a single glare from them mixed with the timidness of your own. “i’m sorry. can you just tell me, please?” you amended weakly. 

“oh, honey, you don’t have to be sorry.” a gentle stroke to your hair was followed by a reassuring grin. tom tugged a loose strand of your behind your ear before turning to the side, nudging to the half-beaten person in the middle of the room. “but he does.”

with the light adjusting accordingly now, the features of this stranger didn’t seem to be so unfamiliar anymore. upon closer inspection, the realization hit you like a blow to the chest. “oh my god, is that-”

“the fucking man who’s been bothering you? yeah, that’s the one.” it came out of tom’s throat as a growl, every word dripping with disgust at the mere acknowledgment. “should’ve talked to me about it-put an end to this son of a bitch sooner.” the grasp on your fragile legs turned tighter, your mouth falling open at the flutter of pain that came with it. “close your pretty little mouth before i forget we have company, baby.”

in an instant, he wasn’t centimeters close to your face anymore; his hands no longer held your aching skin, but rather the other man’s throat. a whirlwind of threats, punches, and blows encaptured your entire focus, and to say it didn’t entice you (among other things) would be a blatant lie. fully prominent on tom’s neck, the darkened profile of his snake tattoo maneuvered with every searing hit he made. the moon-the very same one you saw only minutes ago-casted a shadow on his rings, and the one you’d caught yourself staring at one too many times glistened back. perhaps this was your own personal heaven? or were you possibly in a drug-induced coma; the man looking at you once every few seconds with a mischievous glint in his eye a mere conjuring of your brain? 

a command was given, and an obedient man went on to lift your stalker’s limp form from the chair. you had almost missed it, given your disorganized (and very much hormonal) state of mind. tom came to rest beside you once he gave instructions to another one of his men, a leg crossing over the other as his arms snaked around the couch. he didn’t say anything, regardless of how intensely you were looking at him. all he did was relax, or appear to be, while his men scurried to obey their boss. a few seconds later, one of the few you recognized handed you a tub of ice cream, red velvet flavored this time, and a clean spoon. a look of confusion spread on your face, unbeknownst to just about anything you believed to be certain. all tom did was laugh at your concern, assuring you he wouldn’t bother you with witty remarks if you satiated your craving. 

“wait, how did you know i was eating some in the first place?” you ask mid spoonful. you miss the drop of creamy texture that starts to drizzle on the side of your mouth, but tom sure doesn’t. with a slow, swift movement of his hand, his thumb is wiping it off before putting it into his mouth. 

“darling, you may think i know nothing when it comes to you, but i know everything.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #tom holland fanfiction #mafia boss #tom holland #marvel #mcu #mafia!tom holland #mafia!tom

[lixiefe]

Can’t Touch-k.sm

Chapter Three: Touch as light as feather

Words: 1.6k

Warning: description of anxiety/ panic attack

SEUNGMIN WAS utterly fashionable, but he didn't go out much. So all his fashion-sense was invested into making suits look unique and contemporary; not at all in accordance to the classic black-white formal wear. Even if he wasn't quite interested in the meet-up, he still dressed himself rather well. A gray suit paired with an emerald tie and black silk shirt underneath.

It wasn't appropriate to say that Seungmin was nervous, because he refused to fall into baseless nervousness. But the possibility that people he was not close with might touch him, even for greeting, scared him. He was anxious and he knew of nothing that could get him away from this.

In a flurry of anxiety, he found himself stuffing a pocket hand sanitizer and wet wipes along with it. He breathed deeply, eyes closing and subtly opening again, seeing his godforsaken reflection in the mirror. With that, he somberly receded down to the living room where he found his mother; staring intensely into her smartphone, her nude nail polish contrasting her bright red matte phonecase.

At the sound of his footsteps, his mother looked up, eyes gleaming as she skipped towards her son. "Oh my god! You look gorgeous!" she beamed with glee, a happiness all too threatening in the latter’s eye.. 

Her gaze was of a proud mother as she ran her eyes from his head to toe. Seungmin found it strange how his mother somehow considered him to be the most enticing man ever, even though he couldn't see why. To Seungmin, she looked like she was about to drag him through the building and show off just how incredibly handsome her son was. And involuntary shudder spiked up his spine at the thought. However, he couldn’t suppress the achievement he felt.

"I am not gorgeous." Seungmin mumbled, a slight smile creeping up his face. It wasn't wrong that no matter how much he pretended that he hated compliments, it mystified him every time.

"Oh come on! I am sure Y/L/N is going to be surprised."

Seungmin inwardly cringed at that. He didn't want to impress someone who was being forced upon him. If anything he wanted to be Shrek, with layers resembling onions and filled with unfiltered disgust, so that she could reject him at once. It also fired up his senses on why she didn't refuse the connubial first hand. Maybe, maybe she also didn’t have a choice. But the wee grudge at the lack of protest from the other side wasn’t something he could ignore. But he wasn’t much different.  

Seungmin knew he was being a hypocrite but he couldn't help himself. Who would like it if they were to be married when they clearly didn't want to?

---

Seungmin was seated on the reserved table of his mother's favorite restaurant, tapping on his phone without looking up. It was to her great malevolence that he got to seat himself farther away from everyone, in a subdued corner. There was a blank seat between him and his mother, and he prayed to whoever that his mother doesn't make the girl seat there of all places when there were three vacant seats right in front.

It was then that Seungmin looked up from his phone when he saw people nearing their table along with a series of embraces and complements. They missed other this much in such a short time?

He put his phone down and looked up, eyes trailing on the young girl hidden behind the elder women. His brows furrowed in awe, trying to obtain as much view of you as possible. But all he saw was a section of silky waist length -- hair, which he found extremely beguiling. His eyes betrayed his own orders as they trailed behind your hair as you moved.

 He also noticed your subtle movements that gave justice to proper etiquette and upbringing. And all his momentary hatred seemed to vanish away as if it's existence was a lie. Which wasn’t much inaccurate. 

Finally, as the women dispersed from each other, Seungmin mentally gawked at you as you gracefully sat down right in front of him. You gave him a quick tense smile, folding your hands on your lap and looking down right away, wisps of your bangs falling in your eyes. You shyly blinked them away. 

Although he couldn't catch how you looked, Seungmin found your small actions immensely attractive. All through his years he never really focused on anyone, he couldn't. And now that he acknowledged there were people like you in the world, the confines of his office room seemed crooked, evil even. 

Seungmin couldn't help but admit that you were absolutely enchanting, even though his standards of ‘ enchanting ‘ was unknown to himself. And your peach dress contrasting your skin made you look even more gorgeous, a fairy in disguise. Undoubtedly, you were the most beautiful female he had laid his eyes on his whole life, aside from his mother of course. And he hadn’t even seen you properly.

But then again, you were so stunning that you might have had multiple boyfriends, or a ton of guys crushing on you, competing for your attention, he thought. And that didn't make him feel exceptional anymore.

"Seungmin, introduce yourself!" Seungmin shook away from his trance, blinking his eyes once again. He saw you abruptly lift up you head, your hair swaying in the act.

When he thought you couldn't get any prettier, he felt his heart skip a beat. You looked innocently evocative with facial features that were distinct; soft, with a touch of exuberance. Your eyes a magnificent --- that seemed to brighten with the reflection of light from above. 

How your skin glowed under the extravagant chandeliers of the restaurant and how your hair shined in the fluorescence, was a mystery to him. Seungmin figured his eyes were malfunctioning, hallucinating countless glowing sparkles that circulated around you like Cinderella’s magic heels.

But this is not some disney movie depiction?

He detected that you hadn't worn much makeup. All he could see was your lip tint, which had a glossy hue, making your lips stand out in the most sensational manner. Seungmin felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. Was it love at first sight?

No! Not in a million years. He mentally slapped himself. But he quickly zoned himself back to reality.

"Kim Seungmin. It's nice to meet you," he said, giving you a small tight-lipped smile. He didn't bring his hands forth for a handshake, since he couldn't muster to. Instead, he gave you a little bow to show courtesy.

"Kim Y/N. Glad to meet you too." You returned the bow and offered a smile, which Seungmin nervously returned along with another tentative bow. 

Now that you finally took a look, your mother was right. Your supposed-to-be fiancé was awfully handsome, with flawless skin and princely visuals. You noticed his dark brown hair pushed back with frails falling over his forehead, fashioning his hair in a unique manner. His mono-lid eyes looked unnecessarily glamorous and face pointlessly good-looking. Nonetheless, he was surely appealing in his own exclusive way and you couldn't help but admire him.

The rest of the lunch went by smoothly. You mother engaged into a heated conversation with her friend. It didn't seem like they could ever talk enough, much less catch up onto their lives.

 You also glanced at Seungmin occasionally. He was constantly texting someone on his phone, who you guessed to be his associate. You weren’t keen on disrupting whatever conversation he might be having. Now, you were the only one sitting straight and only perceiving your surroundings. The decorum of place was without a word very luxurious, so high class compared to you.

No way did you fit in here.

You were about to take a tissue from the decorative container, not acknowledging that Seungmin had reached out for one as well. You felt your hand brush with his fingers for a brief moment, touch as light as feather. But he pulled his hand back almost immediately. Your eyes fixated on his changed movements, observing. 

And you noticed that his demeanor had become a tad bit panicky; anxious. One of his legs shaking underneath the table as his gaze vacillated through the conserved area every second. You didn't know if he was just nervous or if there was something going on, something you had no idea of.

At that very moment, he excused himself to the washroom, leaving you with your running thoughts and unconfirmed assumptions.

Seungmin hastily went inside the washroom, immediately fishing out the patch of wet wipes and using one to sanitize the area your hand touched his. He rubbed multiple times before using a liquid soap to clean his hands further. He felt panic set within his chest and the more he rubbed the more ease he felt. Thriving for the burning feeling in his chest to go away, he continued to cleanse his hands for a solid thirty seconds.

He was discombobulated. He felt like he needed to constantly clean himself to not contaminate someone else with germs, similarly the other way around. The only thought in his mind was that, it couldn't happen again.

 He couldn't touch you, because he felt so disgusting and out of place that it was an abstract prohibition for him. And the thoughts were so indirect and repetitive that it made him dizzy. He knew he was fidgety with touches, but what the fuck was this feeling? It was intense to the point it made him feel like a maniac on loose.

He looked at himself in the mirror and spotted a glisten of cool sweat forming on his forehead. He wiped them away with another wipe and went back to the table.

Why was he so riled up? 

As soon as you saw Seungmin entering your line of view, you had your eyes totally set on him and his every posture. He timidly sat down in front of you and proceeded to finish his meal.

It bothered you when you saw that his middle and index fingers were faintly reddish, as if he’d scratched them. You didn't recall any reddish patch on his hands when he reached out for the tissue. But you didn't give it much thought at the moment. Maybe on his journey from the washroom to here, a mosquito had bit him.

Even though that could be it, you couldn't convince yourself.

a/n: I feel like it’s very messy... 

#stray kids #skz #stray kids seungmin #skz kim seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin #skz han #skz han jisung #stray kids han #han jisung #3racha #skz fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids smut #ceo! seungmin x reader #arranged marriage au #ceo au #i love stray kids #skz fanfic #skz smut #skzwritersclub

[obligatorynasty]

Idk if you’re accepting prompts but—high school au w Badboy!Tony and soft!Peter and Tony like teases peter a lot and he says something or mocks peter (like peter stuttered talking to him cause he’s a bit shy and Tony jokingly mocks him) and peter starts to cry and Tony feels super duper bad about it and fluff fluff fluff!

Look at me. Filling prompts. Wow. Thanks for the inspo, anon.

EDIT: I made a part 2.

-

I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby.

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying. Not that it was a surprise. He was a spectacle after all; possessing a much smaller frame than his cohorts, thick-rimmed glasses, zero fashion sense, a squeaky and high-pitched voice. He knew he was softer than the other kids too; more sensitive, an easier target, more likely to choose flight over fight. He knew that when Clint and Natasha tripped him in the hall, or when Bucky and Sam vandalized his locker, or when Flash called him names, they were doing it because his weak reactions made for a good laugh.

Peter wouldn’t say it didn’t bother him – because it did! It really, really did. Each teasing microaggression, each shove in the hall, each jab at his self-esteem made him want to run and hide. Bury his face in his hands so no one would see the tears pouring from his big brown eyes. But he didn’t. Instead, he endured it. Ignored it or pitifully laughed along with it to ease the sting of being socially ostracized. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

Even now, as Thor and Loki mocked every word Peter said to Ned from their place at the adjacent lunch table, he tried his best not to let it get to him.

“Don’t pay attention to them, dude,” Ned shook his head and shrugged, “They’re being assholes.”

“Okay,” Peter said with a forced smile, trying with all his might to ignore the relentless mockery. “So tell me more about the Lego Death Star? How many pieces is it?”

Thor’s roaring laughter cut through the bustle of the lunchroom. “Tell me more about the Lego Death Star, brother!”

Loki snickered, shooting Peter a wicked grin, “What would you like to know? How many pieces it has or, perhaps, how happy I am that my mommy bought me a child’s toy?”

Peter bit the inside of his lip, a tactic he used to hold back his tears. And Ned must have noticed because he turned to the older boys with anger in his eyes and said, “Can you guys just lay off? We aren’t even bothering you.”

“Brother, did you hear something?” Thor looked around, making a show of just how little he cared about Ned’s anger.

“Not at all, brother,” Loki laughed, playing along with his brother’s ignorance, “Tell me, what have you heard?”

“If I’m not mistaken, it had the distinct sound of a squealing pig!” Thor erupted in more laughter. His callous joke making every table in their vicinity burst into laughter of their own. And, if their sick humor was targeted at Peter, then he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. But it was directed at Ned and that was unforgivable.

“S-Shut up, T-Thor!” Peter yelled over the rambunctious crowd, his hands shaking and his heart pounding with fear as he, for the first time, chose fight over flight. His voice definitely cracked and his words held no real threat but, in the moment, it was exhilarating. Despite his fear, the crowd still went silent. Their faces stunned because Peter Parker never raises his voice. And just as Peter started to feel as though he’d won, it was ripped away from him.

“S-Shut up, T-Thor! D-Don’t talk to me and my pig like that!” Loki dramatically mocked Peter’s voice, bringing the crowd and Thor back into their laughter.

And Peter bit his lip again, hard enough for a faint coppery taste to rush his mouth. His eyes stung, and the trembles from his hands traveled up his arms and engulfed his entire being. He was upset, but his nerves kept him from choosing fight again. Instead, he stood from the table and ran. One foot in front of the other towards the cafeteria doors. Wanting nothing more than to escape the vicious scrutiny of his teenage peers.

But then, Peter was falling. His foot catching on some unidentifiable something and his face careening towards the off-white linoleum tiles. The impact hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter turned to see Clint’s outstretched foot and Natasha’s smug grin. Still, Peter chose flight. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he finished his sprint to the doors.

Even in the calm of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning with the need to cry. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured, ignored, and struggled in silence. So he ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, Parker!” Tony yelled, making Peter flinch backward.

Out of all the people in the school, Tony Stark was the most fearsome. The most blood-hungry. The most respected. No one wanted to be on Tony’s bad side. The last guy who managed to piss him off doesn’t even go to the school anymore. Peter still remembers the day when the guy left on a stretcher, swearing up and down that Tony had nothing to do with it. But Peter knew, and so did every other student.

“S-S-Sorry, To-Tony. I-I didn’t- I w-was- I-” Peter stuttered, unable to get a coherent word out underneath the terrifying boy’s gaze.

Tony scoffed with an amused grin on his face, “S-S-Sorry, To-Tony.” He repeated with a laugh, bringing his hand up to flick Peter squarely on his forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Parker? Just fucking speak.”

Peter brought a hand against his forehead, holding the spot where Tony’s finger connected. The dull throbbing pulled at his very last shred of self-control. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes betrayed him first as tears began waterfalling down his cheeks. Next was his voice. It turned to sobs and whines – all breathy and weak and embarrassing – but he couldn’t care. His body was the next to go. His frame visibly trembling and his hands covering his face as he just cried. Pathetically, and in front of Tony Stark.

“What the fuck, Parker?” Tony scoffed, “It was just a flick. Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

But Peter couldn’t stop his tears.

“Why the hell are you crying? Fuck-” Tony’s tone changed, dropping to something softer and a bit more frantic. “Seriously, Parker, quit it.”

But the tears kept flowing.

“Fucking hell. Just-! I’m sorry- just stop. Fucking stop-” Tony was rambling and if Peter wasn’t so lost in his overwhelming emotions, he would have taken notice of Tony Stark’s uncharacteristic apology.

“Peter.”

That did it. Peter finally glanced up, surprised to see a worried face staring down at him. He parted his lips, wanting to speak, wanting to say something – because holy shit, Tony Stark just apologized and called him Peter – but no words came. Instead, his eyes went wide and his tears stopped pouring and the wetness on his cheeks began to dry as he stared up into the taller boy’s dark eyes.

It was Tony who had the guts to break the silence. “Sorry,” He mumbled, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looking away from the shorter boy. “I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were going to cry like that.”

Peter’s face went hot. “I-I…um, it’s okay. I’m sorry for- I didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” Tony shrugged, his eyes carefully moving back to Peter’s and his voice soft and worrisome. “You mad?”

Peter was floored by the older boy’s wary energy. He had never spoken to Tony before – mainly due to the horror stories of the vicious bad boy who only spoke with his fists – but now, Peter was starting to doubt them. “It wasn’t you!” Peter shook his head, his nervous stutter melting away as he became more comfortable in Tony’s presence. “I mean, the flick hurt but it wasn’t what caused it. I was already upset.”

Tony’s eyebrow shot up, “What upset you?”

“I just get picked on a lot.” Peter gave a weak laugh. His arms moving across his body in a self hug like he was trying to disappear. “It’s not a big deal.” Peter lied.

Suddenly, Tony’s hand was against Peter’s hair, threading through his brown curls in a gentle patting motion. The touch made Peter’s shoulders jump up in surprise but he didn’t move. It was soothing and kind and Peter thought of it as Tony’s way of comforting him.

“Who picks on you?” Tony asked, leaning down to be at eye level with Peter and never stopping his soft touch. “I’ll fuck them up.”

Peter gasped at the proximity. Tony was close enough to kiss – why Peter’s mind went there, he didn’t know. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

“No,” Tony shook his head, “I think I do.”

“But why?” Peter whispered, scared to speak too loudly with Tony’s face so close.

“’Cause I like you, Peter.”

A warm hue crept up Peter’s face and his stutter came back with the vengeance. “W-Wha-? What are you- You l-like me?! We’ve n-never spoke before! W-Why do you l-like me?”

“Don’t know. I just do.” Tony grinned, “And I hated seeing you cry. So, I’ll ask again, who the fuck picks on you? Name some names, baby, and I’ll make sure they don’t even breathe in your direction again.” A wild look filled Tony’s eyes. “Shit, if you said so, I’d make sure they never breathed another breath.”

Peter stared at Tony with bewildered eyes. Not only did Tony Stark just confess, but he threatened to kill Peter’s bullies and he called Peter baby. Baby. Peter couldn’t believe this was even happening. “I- I don’t- um… I-”

“You know what?” Tony stood upright and threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Come on.” He started towards the lunchroom, towing a reluctant Peter at his side. “You can just point those bitches out. I’ll drag their stupid faces across the floor and then, me and you, we can have lunch together.”

“T-Tony, wait. I don’t- I can’t go back in there.” Peter felt his eyes begin to sting again.

“Don’t you worry one bit, baby.” Tony didn’t stop walking, instead, he pressed a quick kiss against Peter’s temple. “I’ve got you.”

The kiss sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin, and despite his nerves, he let Tony pull him along. He felt safe, held against the older boy’s side with a protective arm around his shoulders. He liked it. He liked him. “Okay.”

Tony smiled, “That your answer then?”

“To what?” Peter asked as they rounded the corner towards the cafeteria doors.

“To being mine.”

“Being yours?” Peter blushed again, “Isn’t that a bit possessive?”

“Probably, but I can’t help it. When I see something I want, I take it. And I really want you, baby.”

Peter giggled at Tony’s brutally candid words, “Okay, sure. I’ll be yours.”

“Perfect,” Tony placed a hand against the double doors. “Now, you better not change your mind when you see me fight for you.” He smirked, “I’ll try not to make it too bloody.”

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #obligatorywrites

[bigskydreaming]

The multiverse trip trope, with the canon Batfam ending up in a No Capes AU, where their counterparts, being equally hyper-competent but having no secret identities to hide or vigilantism as the primary focus for channeling their energies into....are equally ridiculous to all vigilante versions of the Batfam, but in vastly different ways.

With no need to hide his athletic abilities or to try and distance himself from immediate association with his past acrobatics, Dick focuses his time and efforts on gymnastics after Bruce takes him in. He’s an Olympic gold medalist before he’s twenty, hailed for practically reinventing the nature of high-bar routines thanks to his innovative ways of melding elements of his former acrobatics with his gymnastics regimens. 

Because of his many medals and natural charisma, he’s also a highly sought after brand face, asked to endorse or act as a spokesmodel for all kinds of things. He takes a particular savage joy in having his revenge on society as a whole, for the grief they gave him growing up, between the jokes about his circus background and ‘garish’ ensembles he patterns after his old costumes. Each year, he himself quietly seeks out talented designers who because of their backgrounds and the elitism of the high fashion world, are only able to advance so far in that industry. 

Acting as a silent investor for them with the funds from his endorsement deals, he charms his way through backroom deals and opens the necessary doors to get his designers into the high profile fashion shows that can make designers’ careers, allowing them the much needed opportunities to showcase their designs and get them out into the world and in front of potential buyers. 

But in addition to their own designs, Dick then commissions the designers he patrons, to design for him the most absurd things they can come up with. The kind of high fashion wtf’s that Ugly Betty’s wardrobe department could only dream of making, and then making into a punchline. Design for me an outfit you wouldn’t even inflict on your most hated enemy, Dick says to them.

And each year they do, and Dick models those looks personally. Then he sits back with his siblings and cackles with malevolent glee as the snobby ‘it crowds’ of his generation later turn out in droves to purchase his ‘signature looks.’ Strutting around town in imitation of the poise and charisma he pulls off effortlessly - but those, no amount of money can buy, and given they’re the only reason Dick Grayson alone can get away with wearing this stuff and still look as good as he does when doing so - well, the socialite circles inevitably end up looking utterly ridiculous. The harder they try and sell it with artificial confidence that Page Six and talk show hosts see right through, the more they get shredded to pieces with scathing jokes and headlines that put anything they ever managed to come up with to shame.

Meanwhile, the revenue from their frenzied purchases of these ‘must-have’ looks of the season? More than enough to launch the careers of Dick’s designers, right up to the A-List, where Dick leaves them to do what they want and make the most of it, with his eternal gratitude for humoring him and his rich kid eccentricities. (Not that his designers haven’t all since long figured out the joke and gotten vindication of their own out of it, as the designers and buyers who tried previously to shut them out because of their humble backgrounds, now all rush to try and rip off their more out there and high profile ‘Dick Grayson Looks’ with their own versions, over-saturating that particular market demographic just as people start catching on that these designs were always doomed to fizzle without Dick wearing them himself......leaving Dick’s designers with an open, uncluttered path right to the demographics they actually want to sell to, with the designs nobody’s attempted to imitate yet because they were too busy keeping eyes glued to Dick’s peacock ensembles).

Bruce has long since given up expecting he’ll ever understand his various children without them making an effort to translate first.....so the first time he walks in on Dick, Jason and Duke watching E! with a focus they’ve never displayed for sports, and with the coffee table covered in so many papers and flow charts and graphs, the den looks more like a War Room rather than just three of his boys watching Entertainment Tonight with frightening intensity. 

Bruce just waits in the doorway for them to notice him and arches one eyebrow when they do. Oh, there’s a point to all of this, he’s sure. But damned if he can figure out on his own just what the hell it might be.

His eldest just beams at him with his thousand watt smile.

“Love me or hate me, they all want to be me,” Dick sing-songs. Then he shrugs innocently, as though that explains it all.

It doesn’t, Bruce is fairly certain.

“Why?” He asks somewhat plaintively, after his struggle to select one of the many, many questions buzzing in his head glitches on that one syllable and refuses to budge until he at least voices that much.

“We’ve been over this, B. Its part of our Twenty Seven Step Plan to Destroy the Upper Class,” Jason says impatiently, still jotting notes in pen on one of the graphs, eyes still locked on the TV. “God, its like you never listen, I fucking swear.”

“That running joke you two had when you were in high school?” Bruce asks blankly, focusing on his two eldest. Duke is paying absolutely no attention to him any way, leaning over to cross something out on the same graph Jason’s working on, scrawling some kind of correction while Jason nods like that makes total sense in whatever bizarre arithmetic they’re all working off of.

Dick sighs in the fond manner of a parent whose child has just done something particularly endearing. “You gotta admit, its kinda cute he still thinks we’re joking when we talk about class warfare.”

“Eh,” Jason grunts noncommittally. “Benjamin Button he is not.”

“If you boys don’t mind, could you do me a favor and make sure to clarify when you’re making fun of me? I have trouble spotting the insults otherwise,” Bruce says dryly.

“But that’s what makes it fun!” Duke says, beaming with his own version of Dick’s thousand watt grin. Equal in intensity, but where Dick’s tends to burst into being all at once like a supernova, Duke’s tends to sneak up on you, slowly increasing the illumination until you realize you’re blinking spots out of your vision and it hits you that you haven’t been able to see anything but blinding luminescence for awhile now, and you don’t even know for sure how long.

“Well how about just this once, you boys take pity on me and cut your old man a break,” Bruce says, still in tones as parched as Saharan dunes. “Explain what I’m looking at here as though I’m five.”

“Christ, B, you’re not freaking geriatric,” Jason mutters. “You’re only in your forties, its way too soon for you to try and milk the senility angle.”

“We’re documenting record of public reactions to the latest fashion crimes of Gotham’s A-List,” Dick cuts off Jason, taking the aforementioned pity on his father as he provides an explanation that is in no way helpful.

Bruce squints at the screen. “But aren’t those the same outfits you wore during your Fashion Week thing last month?”

“Well yeah, but on me they look good,” Dick shrugs.

“Don’t gloat,” Jason says to his brother. “It’s tacky.”

“Facts are facts,” Dick says without a hint of apology. “Lying in the name of false modesty would be the true dishonesty.”

“Incredible. You even manage to put a pious-sounding spin on being an egotistical shit,” Jason marvels. “How do you do that?”

Dick shrugs again. “It’s a gift.”

Bruce clears his throat. “And what’s all this documentation for, anyway?”

“Dick’s book,” Duke says matter of factly. Bruce would be flattered by his children’s apparent belief he can intuitively leap from one esoteric comment straight to an epiphany like some kind of goddamn gazelle - if he weren’t still so lost.

“Dick has a book? Since when? I thought Jason was the writer in this family,” Bruce frowns. “And I’m quite certain there was a big to-do made when you were all much younger, where it was decided that each of you would focus yourself on distinct pursuits not overlapping with any other siblings’, so as not to kill each other in your inevitable quest to be number one.”

“Well first off, Dad, if you couldn’t handle a little competition between your children, you shouldn’t have adopted competitive children,” Dick lectures absently, still scribbling away at those damn pages.

“Its not like you all came labeled with future character traits,” Bruce says crankily. They ignore him.

“And secondly, upon discovering that the agreement we all signed was the end product of carefully dropped hints aimed at making us believe we all came to the table of our own volition, when in fact, they were merely the machinations of the mastermind known as our meddling father,” Jason intoned, finally looking up at Bruce to raise one eyebrow at him significantly, “the Treaty of Wayne Manor’s South Family Room circa 2012, was thus deemed by all signatories to be fruit of the poisonous tree, and subsequently rendered null and void.”

Bruce’s frown deepens. “How did you figure that out? And why are you suddenly talking like a Bond villain?”

“Well it was mostly more of a theory until just now,” Dick beams at him. Dammit. You’d think he’d know better than to walk right into things like that by now. “But Tim had a hunch pretty much from the start, except then we all ended up branching out towards different interests anyway so it didn’t seem to matter that much, and we figured why not let you keep thinking you got a win there, you know?”

“I have the most thoughtful children.” 

“We do try,” Jason hums.

“We try,” Duke snorts. “You add snarky commentary.”

“That was implied.”

Duke rolls his eyes and rolls right past that. “And Jason’s talking like that because he’s got that book tour coming up in a couple weeks, and he’s test driving new Eccentric Author Aesthetics.”

“Gotta give the people what they want,” Jason shrugs. “My fanbase expects the precociously grumpy darling of the New York literary circuit to be baffling and unpredictable, I give them baffling and unpredictable.”

“And here I thought you’d said you hated your fanbase. And rather then giving them anything, last I heard you were claiming to be withholding your sophomore manuscript just to spite them,” Bruce says. His voice is still lost and wandering in the desert, not a hint of precipitation to be found. “In fact, I distinctly recall wanting to take you out to celebrate the rave reviews of your debut novel, the week of its release. Only you were busy having a diatribe about how ridiculous the reviews were and how nobody had any business calling the barely coherent linguistic finger paintings of an emotionally stunted twenty-one year old the ‘next great American novel’ and it called the entire slate of reviews’ credibility into question as any brains capable of producing thoughts that erroneous should be required to display a count of their individual brain cells before anyone even considers viewing any thought produced by them as potentially being credible.”

“And you thought he never listens,” Duke snickers at his older brother. “Sounds like a direct quote to me.”

Jason just shrugs again, not remotely moved. “Yeah but I hate everything, so its not like that really means anything. Also, I’m full of shit. I thought everyone knew that.”

“He’s not subtle,” Dick informs Bruce.

“Subtlety’s for losers,” Jason defends himself. “Like tact.”

Bruce clears his throat again. “Back to the matter of Dick’s book?”

“Oh, right!” Dick chirps. “I have a book. Well, will have. This is research for it.”

“So you are taking up writing after all?” 

“Hah!” Jason barks out loudly. “Dick can’t write for shit. He can’t even write a thank you card, forget about a whole fucking novel.”

“Umm, I can write, I merely choose not to,” Dick sniffs pointedly. Then he rolls his eyes in disgust. “And Jesus Christ, chill, Prince Passive Aggressive. I can’t believe you’re still making such a big deal about that. Let it go already.”

He and Jason both shoot quick looks over at Duke about two seconds after Dick’s last sentence. Duke looks up just in time to catch their glances darting away again.

“Hang on, why did you both look at me, like you thought I was about to start singing that stupid song from Frozen?” Duke frowns at them suspiciously. “You guys do know that I’m not Stephanie, right?”

“Yeah but you have been hanging around her an awful lot lately, and she’s contagious,” Jason points out. Duke’s frown deepens for a moment, but then it wings out of sight and he shrugs, perfectly at ease again.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Anyway, its Dick’s tell-all book on Gotham high society,” Jason continues on. “I’ll be the one actually writing it of course. He’s just the pretty face getting slapped on the cover, but I mean, that’s the only reason people are gonna wanna buy it, so I’ll probably just phone it in anyway.”

Bruce focuses on the only part of that reveal he can handle at the moment. “Jay, you’re not remotely capable of ever phoning something in.”

“How dare you accuse me of having a work ethic. Rude and disrespectful. My reputation isn’t built to withstand that kind of slander.”

“And feel free to mock all you want, but my pretty face on that cover is what’s going to earn me my first SCPF,” Dick announces loftily.

Duke looks up. Opens his mouth. Shakes his head. Closes it. Looks back down. Sighs. Looks back up again. 

“Not that I don’t know better than to ask, but what the hell is an SCPF?”

“My version of an EGOT that I just made up while Jay was being offended by a compliment to his work ethic. Spokesmodel, cover model, print model, fashion model. The four cornerstones of the modeling world, which I will then have conquered, leaving me free to move on to other endeavors.”

Jason studies his older brother gravely. Then he shakes his head.

“Even as a complete and utter joke, that combination of words disgusts me. You make me physically nauseous sometimes, you know.”

“Another gift of mine, I suppose. I have so many,” Dick muses, leaning back and examining something on the chart he was scribbling on, as if trying to take in another angle for some no doubt ridiculous reason. Why were his children like this. 

“Before this migraine finishes settling in and pitches its tent for the night, anyone care to tell me just what exactly this tell-all will be telling?” Bruce sighs. It was never too early to start damage control when this particular combination of his kids were conspiring together.

“Oh, everything,” Dick says breezily. “Who had affairs, who embezzled from their companies, who bribed or blackmailed or bought off this or that. All kinds of juicy sordid stuff, real page turner stuff, you know? You’d think important people would do a better job of keeping high stake secrets all hush hush instead of dropping them all willy nilly at various galas over the years, but c’est la vie.”

“Its almost like there are potential hazards to condescendingly assuming the uneducated circus brat someone adopted as an obvious PR stunt, like, just can’t understand a lick of what people say around him, what with his thick foreign accent obviously conveying he just don’t know English words so good nope, nope, nopers,” Dick concludes merrily, a familiar sparkle in his eye. One that usually heralded social cataclysms to come.

“And so you’ve taken it upon yourself to warn the public of those potential hazards. Good for you, son,” Bruce says sardonically. Despite his best efforts, the corners of his lips keep tugging stubbornly upwards.

“Just trying my best to give back to the community that’s given me so much,” Dick shrugs in the closest approximation to an ‘aw shucks’ vibe that Bruce has ever seen his son manage in as long as he’s known him. Jason reaches over and smacks the back of Dick’s head.

“Hey!” The elder brother snaps back, rubbing the back of his head with wounded dignity. He glares at his smirking brother.

“My bad. I thought you were against false modesty. Just trying to help keep you honest, bro.”

Dick narrows his eyes at him. “Touche,” is all he says.

“Last question before I give up and admit defeat,” Bruce interjects before that escalates. As tends to happen in moments like the previous. With no limit to how long or how far that escalation might last. By his count, his two eldest boys were somehow still engaged in four entirely different extended, longterm feuds they seemed somehow able to treat as separate and distinct from each other, with one of those stretching all the way back a good ten years, and still no end in sight as far as anyone knew. 

How did they determine what fights would end in minutes and which warranted stretching out over a course of years? Bruce really couldn’t say. How did they manage to stop and start the same argument off and on for all that time, without letting the last-addressed state of the argument affect how they interacted when their fight was back on ‘pause’? No idea. How did they seem able to treat each different matter they fought about as its own distinct entity that had no bearing on anything outside that particular argument, with no overlap or cross-pollination as far as anyone else had ever been witness to, and why did they even bother doing so in the first place? God, Bruce dearly wishes he knew.

Unfortunately, for all that his entire horde of children often at times seem to exist on a wholly separate and private plane unreachable by the rest of humanity, Bruce’s first two children to fill the halls of Wayne Manor with laughs, screeches and occasional declarations of war and an intent to maim, dismember and murder - 

Well. They at times seemed to possess a language and extra senses unique just to them, and baffling to the entire rest of the world and their own siblings as well.

Oh well. At least Bruce could take some small comfort in Duke’s occasional glance of wary confusion, thrown towards one or both of his brothers when they weren’t looking.

“Yo, this is Planet Earth, hailing one eternally out of touch bachelor billionaire way up in the atmosphere,” Jason sharply cuts into Bruce’s distraction with a snap of his fingers. “Are you trying to milk the senility thing again? We’ve been over this. You need at least another decade of mileage before we’ll validate your senior citizen card.”

“Right.” Bruce rolls his eyes at his son, but shakes his head to clear it nevertheless. Ah, yes. “Yes. Indulge me, please. What exactly does what you’re watching have to do with Dick’s....tell-all, and how does whatever all of this is count as research?”

“Oh, we’re just keeping record of public shaming of every snobby rich jackass to buy one of the fashion monstrosities Dick wears at Fashion Week, only to then look utterly ridiculous and absurd when they try and wear it in public and everyone points and laughs,” Duke chimes in.

“I see,” Bruce says, his lips twitching again. “And this of course all ties back into class warfare and...what was it again...oh yes, the Twenty Seven Step Plan To Destroy The Upper Class?”

“That’s right,” Duke nods.

“I even know what the title is going to be already,” Dick smiles with bared teeth. “I’m going with: ‘Weapons of Choice.’“

“Of course, as I keep explaining to him, nobody gets final say on the title of their book, and there’s every chance the publisher will end up changing the title to something they pick,” Jason says with a pointed look at his brother. 

Dick’s willful obliviousness visibly deflects Jay’s arched gaze long before any point can hit and make an impact. “And as I keep explaining to him, if they try and change the title, I will simply explain to them that they are incorrect and it already has the perfect title and one can not improve upon perfection.”

Jason strangles a gutteral, incoherent growl before it can fully escape from his throat. “I want to throttle you.”

“I know,” Dick says sunnily.

“Well, as long as you’ve thought this through, which you clearly have, I have no doubt you’ll get the results you’re after,” Bruce says. Doubtfully. Though of what, he’s not entirely sure. His sanity, thinking that yes, half a dozen precocious, willful and utterly incomprehensible children, that’s the ticket, exactly what my life needs. Yes, that was probably the matter actually in doubt.

“Ugh, B, you’re not getting it,” Dick complains. He exchanges frustrated glances with his brothers. “He’s not getting it.”

“It’s not rocket science,” Jason says patiently. “Basic rule of street fighting....the most effective takedowns come from aiming at someone’s weakest point. Whenever possible, go for the throat. What’s the equivalent of the throat as far as Gotham’s upper class is considered? Public image.”

“Destroy their public image, destroy them,” Dick finishes cheerfully. “They crack, get egg on their face like the nursery rhyme says, and bam, Humpty Dumpty has a great fall and all the queen’s knights working as a team still can’t put them together again and while they’re distracted the pawns can slip past them and become queens!”

Jason stares at him. “I know what you’re doing and its not going to work.”

“What am I doing?”

“Deliberately mangling the fuck out of a bunch of different well known sayings that you know perfectly well how they really go, while doing that thing where you act like you’re the most airheaded ditz to ever live and have a brain that runs off of helium instead of oxygen like the rest of us. Because you know damn well how obnoxious that is to anyone who knows exactly how intelligent you really are and that you actually have a mind like a steel trap that remembers fucking everything, no matter how inane, which is fucking rude, because that’s wasted on you and also, stop it. I told you. Its not going to work.” 

“Oh Jay.” Dick tilts his head to the side and grins wider. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Uh huh,” Jason says, unconvinced. “Then what, pray tell, are you doing?”

“That thing where I trick you into believing I’m doing the more obvious seeming thing and then annoy you with my fake airhead routine until you end up flattering me and paying me compliments when pointing out why my airhead routine could never work on you and is thus just annoying,” Dick says brightly.

Jason’s eyebrows inch incrementally together with the slow, ominous scrape of stone grinding across stone. Dick is entirely undeterred, and simply shrugs again with a painfully fake display of innocence.

“Its dinner time and my ego needed feeding. Thanks for that bee tee dubs, it was getting hungry. Nom nom.”

“Yeah,” Jason says casually, after a good ten second pause. He nods decisively. “Okay, I’m going to murder you now.”

He lunges for his brother, but Dick’s resting pose is the equivalent of anyone else impatiently waiting at the starting block of a race. He’s up and on his feet, gracefully dancing out of range of his younger but bigger brother’s wider reach, and has darted halfway towards the other exit to the room by the time Jason finishes scrambling to his feet. Not that any of that delays the younger man from taking off in a dead sprint in pursuit of his laughing sprite of a brother the second he does. 

Bruce stares after them for a moment and then shifts his gaze down to Duke, who’s still seated contentedly on the floor, blithely unaffected by Dick and Jason’s mad dash out the room as he continues scribbling down notes.

“I will pay you all the money I have, not to grow up to be like them,” Bruce says in the gravest possible tone he can manage. “You don’t even have to wait til I’m dead.”

Duke sighs and shakes his head. “B, c’mon, man. I’m clearly on Team Class Warfare. I’m insulted you think I can be bought.”

Bruce frowns. “You all are way, way too fond of this trolling thing you do.”

“Mmm. Agree to disagree.”

[qvid-pro-qvo]

a nightmare or two can’t keep me from you (part two)

aos!leonard mccoy x female!reader, who’s a nurse on the starship enterprise.

word count: 4351

rating: mature, for nightmares and hurt/comfort

part three of more than a game, you and me.

After giving you some much-needed support (and a lot of love), it’s time for you to return the favor. 

The rest of the day was spent in the same fashion. Dozing, waking up. Leonard was always close, at the very least in the room. Most of the time, when you woke up after your hour-long-naps he was napping himself, or close enough that when your eyes opened his fingers were immediately in your hair, running through it, catching in the kinks.

And… no nightmares.

No matter how many times you fell asleep, or woke up, or lingered in bed, there were no terrors that jolted you awake. Nothing that scared the shit out of you enough to settle into your subconscious.

Just sleep. Sleep and Leonard and a lazy day, culminating in your fingers grazing over his scar, staring at the place where his wounds had been. You were straddling his hips, and the whole time he just stared up at you, blinking a few times as you lingered over the spot.

“I have nightmares about it, too,” he told you, and your eyes flickered up from his abdomen. It was a slow crawl up his body, up from the jut of his hips and along the faint scarring that remained. Eventually, your eyes met his, and the corners of his lips quirked up with amusement, before his signature furrowed brow appeared.

“The pain was a good chunk of ‘em. The burning of the stomach wound, my leg, of course, but. More than anything it’s the fear.” His voice was tight, and you realized with a start the shine of his eyes wasn’t from the gentle glow of the lights above head. “The fear of… that whole moment. It gets broken down, and I see… you, and I see Jim, and the whole damn crew mournin’ me. Sometimes you’re not – sometimes I see your anger, the way we left things off and the only thing left of us is silence. I see my body. Left behind. Shot into space. Whatever.”

His breath caught, and before you thought about it your hands were cupping his face, stroking over the hint of scruff from his day lounging with you, thumbs over his cheeks.

“But when I wake up, I think about you, and… the fact that right now, we’ve got each other. And though the nightmares don’t stop, they started fadin’, and now. In between there’s so much good that the bad doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Leonard,” you got out, and a warm hand moved to settle on your hips calloused fingers against your skin. They settled under the sweatshirt you wore, stroking back and forth.

“Y/N, I know it’s – I know there’s a lot in that brilliant brain of yours, but. Know that whatever’s fillin’ it, whatever you’re thinkin’ about? I want to listen.” His voice was fierce, and when your thumb moved against his cheek again, his free hand reached for it, gripping it tight. “You can trust me. Okay?”

And when you nodded, falling forward to rest your head against his chest, you believed him.

Eventually, the next day came, which gave you both plenty to think about, and after a full 36 hours in Leonard’s quarters with him, plenty of sudden alone time.

Your nightmares had scared you. That’s why you hadn’t said anything, not really. It’d been a few months since the incident had even happened, and you felt like you had no right to have nightmares about something that hadn’t been your problem. It was Leonard’s trauma. It was Leonard’s horror story.

Add onto the fact that the two of you had been, well, thriving. The two of you were truly partners, now, with pseudo-dates on observation decks and the dining hall as well as nights in. Nights with nightmares were the low point, among so many highs.

And so you had gone to shifts, exhausted, but pushing through. Until the end hadn’t come. No matter what you tried, no matter how long or how deep or how well you were determined to sleep… all you saw was Leonard dying.

Over. And over. And over.

And so your hands started shaking, your eyes could barely stay open, which led to Christine finding out, which led to Leonard finding out about it, something you specifically hadn’t wanted to happen.

But what had Leonard done? Nothing but gentleness, support, and the best head massages you’d ever gotten.

And love. There was that, too.

When you arrived back in your quarters, it was for fresh clothes that weren’t wrinkled from being on Leonard’s floor. But when you got there, the sight of your own bed made your stomach churn. Perfectly made, undisturbed, but the thought of sleeping there was… more than unappealing.

For one thing, the last time you’d slept in that bed, you’d had a nightmare. For another… you wouldn’t wake up next to Leonard. And that was enough to have your heart pound.

“Oh, god,” you said with a groan. “I’m in love with the man.”

In love. You were in love with him. The kind of distinction that middle schooler would make, but it was the only one that made sense, the only one that accounted for the feeling of dread of being back to bed alone. It was more than the loss of touch, more than the need for sex or affection. It was… something bigger.

You weren’t clingy, either. No matter how short the time felt between that first time in the sickbay and now, you just knew. It was love.

No one else could get to you like he could. Not Christine or anyone else on that damn starship. He pushed your buttons. He made you laugh. He fucked you until your thighs shook. He hugged you so tight you couldn’t think about anything else, and he kissed you until you were breathless. He scowled and snapped and smiled and smirked and all you were helpless to it.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him.

You wouldn’t. You refused to.

With a soft sigh, you looked around the place, the quarters you called your own, and with a shake of your head you moved to the bed, sitting down with heavy sigh.

Well. If Leonard wanted to know what was inside that head of yours… he’d get it.  

-

Of course, trying to figure out the perfect time to say it didn’t come easily. Or really, come at all.

The next few days were a shitshow, prepping. Docking at a station, there was a required Federation inspections and resupply of the ship over a week, nothing more than a pit stop that left the whole crew scrambling to look good. You and Leonard didn’t do much together, couldn’t do much. Everyone had their jobs to do and while the Enterprise was a fantastic vessel, there was a lot that Captain Kirk let his crew do simply because he trusted each of them to do whatever they needed in order to work effectively and efficiently. So, you saw each other occasionally, kissed in hallways or when you took lunches and dinners, offered lone smiles across the biobed, but by the time the day ended exhaustion barely covered it.

You did end up staying in his room, though. More often than not, the two of you ended up walking towards the same quarters, his hand on the small of your back. It became a routine in the madness, and your nightmares faded with the close proximity, the feeling of him holding you from behind as you slept. (You still argued you didn’t snore, but you refused to listen or watch any computer evidence that would prove otherwise.)

That morning, when inspections began, still too damn early, your hands were holding two cups of coffee when you walked into the sickbay, and Leonard was there yelling at three men in gray uniforms who looked like they were about to piss themselves.

“You idiots know what sterile means? It means that if you touch it, it’s useless to me!” he snapped, his jaw clenched as he got up in the faces of the one closest to the front.

“It – it was an accident, the box just dropped.” One of them stammered it out, but Leonard just scoffed, shaking his head.

“If the plastic snaps,” he sounded out, slowly, grinding his teeth, “it is exposed to the environment and I cannot and will not treat patients with it!”

His voice echoed off of the place, and everyone seemed to be staring – the other nurses, some others in blue who were helping unloading. Everything was at a standstill, except Leonard. One hand on his hip, one gesturing up to the sky in disbelief before it dropped to his side.

The whole scene gave you a small smile, and slowly you sidled up to him, offering one of the cups of coffee, watching him until he reached for it. When he did, you looked at the grey uniforms, smiling gently at them and reaching to direct the towards the door. “I think we got it from here, boys. Thanks for your help.”

They filed out, and you slowly watched them go. When you turned back to the room, everyone seemed to have settled on their tasks, the blue shirts taking over stocking the shelves, the nurses smiling to themselves as you walked to the CMO. Leonard just stood there, nursing the coffee, and you reached up to place a hand on his arm.

“Why don’t we take a walk?”

The two of you moved out of the sickbay, walking a little way down the hall so that no one in the sick bay could overhear. The hallways were busy, but most people had their own problems, leaving the two of you somewhat private.

“Leonard, it’s the first day of a long week,” you murmured to him, stroking his arm up and down. “Don’t you think making a few guys just trying to do their jobs shit themselves is a little overkill?”

His lips quirked up a little bit, but when he looked at you there was still tension in his features, in the way he held his shoulders. “I hate these days,” he muttered, and you reached up to cup his cheek with your hand. “Makes me feel like a med student all over again.”

“But you’re not,” you whispered, and you glanced around before leaning up to cup his cheek, something more than the two of you were used to doing in public. Even though everyone knew about you guys, you still wanted to keep it on the downlow, especially at work. “You’re the chief medical officer of the starship Enterprise, the best damn ship in any system. No one doubts you. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Okay?”

If you squinted, you thought you could make out the faintest hints of a blush, maybe from the praise, maybe from the kiss in public. But, either way, he kissed you back, gently on the lips, before pulling back and gently tapping your nose with his index finger.

You could say it. Right then and there, while your lips still hummed with the contact. While you stared up at him, your gaze meeting his. His face had gone stoic again, but you could see that his guard was back down.

You could just say it.

“Don’t go too far, Y/N,” he said, before turning back towards the sickbay.

You were shocked into a scoff, the moment lost, the instant gone. “You do know I work with you, right?”

He waved over his shoulder, and when he turned the corner you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, thinking about how many more times you would blow it.

The week continued. Every day, grey uniforms blurred together and a couple of admirals came aboard, led by Captain Kirk and Commander Spock through the space floor by floor. There didn’t seem to be any reason to worry about citations, Scotty had told you, after his deck had been scrubbed over.

“Everything was clean as a whistle,” he bragged, pulling his shoulders back, leaning back in his chair. “A couple of them commented on my adjustments to the warp engines, but I just informed them that with these tactics the Enterprise would be flying faster than any ship in the whole system.”

“Yeah, well, we get them up in Medical tomorrow,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. Your meal was done, barely touched as you felt your knee bounce up and down. “Leonard’s just been inching closer and closer to the breaking point since this week started. Not much I can do to calm him down when he gets riled up besides just let him breathe.”  

“Well, I get it!” Scotty stood from his chair with a start, reaching up to scratch at his head before grabbing his plate. The hall was clearing out of the last rotation, a new flood of crew ready for chow coming in.  “I mean, the Enterprise is my lady, y’know? If someone came down and told me I was doing a bad job with her? I’d be devastated. I’m sure Dr. McCoy is feeling the same way.”

“Yeah, and extremely, extremely stressed,” you sighed. You pushed around the food a little bit more, but eventually just stood with him, walking towards disposal. “I’m just ready for the stress of this all to go away.”

“Aw, don’t worry, lass,” Scotty said with a smirk, taking your plate from you. “I think you’ll all be just fine. Just give it time, be there for him. It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.”

-

The bed jerked suddenly, making your eyes flutter open as the blankets you had tangled around you pulled at your skin. You managed a groan of complaint, but the sharp words that almost left you got caught in your throat when you saw the man next to you was sitting up straight.

“Leonard,” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes, the daze from sleep leaving you when you realized that he was panting, breathing so fast you could barely count them. “Whoa, whoa, Leonard, what’s going on?”

“Y/N,” he mumbled, and his hands reached up to rub at his eyes. Both of them, at once, frantically wiping away what they could before he turned to look at you. His gaze was… bleary, like he was barely seeing you, and your hands reached out to him before you could think.

“Leonard, it’s me,” you whispered. His gaze didn’t meet your eyes, just slowly moved back to his hands, which had fallen to his lap. You reached to grab one, interlocking your fingers, and the man just shuddered, his free hand once again lifting to rub at his eyes.

“You’re… you’re here?” he asked, voice trembling, and you immediately moved to your knees, edging closer so that you could wrap your arms around his back. Skin to skin, your free hand rubbing circles on his arm. “You’re still here?”

“Yeah, Leonard,” you whispered, pressing kisses to his cheek, his hairline. “I’m here.” Slowly, your fingers trailed over his shoulder, before squeezing his arm. “You want to talk about it?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and you waited, watching. His eyes squeezed shut with the memories, but as your fingers kept moving over his skin his tension leaked out of him, exhaustion taking over. His shoulder dropped from their defensive position, and his eyes lifted again to look at you.

“It was… it was the ambush,” he whispered. “But. But you were down there. Instead of me.”

Your throat closed up, and you bit your lower lip so you didn’t make a sound, just kept rubbing his shoulder and moved to let your fingers run over his back, slow circles doing their best to press on.

“It was like it was on-screen,” he murmured. “On the bridge. Watching you. Watching you get hurt, and… and fall to the ground. And I was on the ship, and Jim down there with you, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t do a damn thing. I was stuck in fuckin’ space, while you –“ His voice couldn’t go on anymore, and you were glad for that mercy, letting your embrace around him tighten into a hug, your lips pressing firm kisses into his hair.

There was silence. There had to be. Your grip didn’t lessen, and his breaths came out ragged, and the two of you held there, for that moment, fearful. Pained. Mourning, almost.

But slowly, steadily, you moved back to sit, cross-legged on the bed, and ever so gently your fingers moved to his hair, combing through it, smoothing it back. The movement made his eyelids droop, and your hands slowly brought him to your lap, letting his head rest there, on your thigh.

“Leonard,” you whispered, when the quiet was too much, or rather, just enough. “I love you, you know that? And you… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His silence was deafening, but you forced yourself to push on, fingers continually pushing through his hair, eyes turning down to watch as a hand of his rested on your knee.

“I love you. I love everything about you. I love your highs and your lows, I love your gentle hands and your incredible hair and your little smirk you get when I do something that makes you want to kiss me. I love your voice and your head massages and… and everything. I love you. And… and god, no matter what happens to me? To us. It’ll always be worth it. Knowing I met you, and get to love you.”

A short gasp left him, and you felt something wet trickle down your thigh, but you didn’t think, just tilted his head until he could look at you, and your eyes could meet. A hand lifted, a thumb reaching down to wipe his cheek, push the tears away.

“I’m alive, Leonard,” you reminded him. Urged him, as you leaned down to kiss his temple. “I’m here. And I’m gonna be here, all right? Unless they drag me off of this damn ship.”

His eyes widened a bit, but before he could stop himself, he nodded. Quick dip of his chin. And you leaned down to kiss him, both hands on his cheeks, before he could think anything more of you being gone.

“Sleep, darlin’,” you whispered, adding a bit of a tinge of a drawl to pull a hint of a smile from him. “And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

-

The next morning, when Leonard woke up to his alarm, you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom. You knew he was awake when you heard his groan, signature to his favorite pastime – opening his eyes before 7:00 AM.

You poked your head out of the bathroom to look at him, quickly finishing up and spitting out the suds, rinsing your mouth. Your mind briefly turned to the night before, your eyes closing as you thought about what you said, how much you meant it. But Leonard didn’t deserve doubts now. You meant every word, and… well. You’d let it stand.

You poked your head out of the bathroom to check on him, before wiping your face and moving to the bed. His face was still down in the pillow, and you smiled gently before reaching to turn off the alarm.

“Hey, Leonard,” you whispered. “I know it’s shitty, but. It’s time to go to work.”

His response was another groan, but it was more questioning than pure complaint. You smiled, before leaning down to kiss his neck, down his back, on some of your favorite freckles.

“You know it’s time to get up,” you told him, a hand reaching to ruffle his hair before you stood up again. One of your uniforms was hanging in his closet, and you moved to get it, reaching to pull your sleepshirt over your head.

As you tossed your shirt side you couldn’t help but shiver, and you heard Leonard shifting in the bed. “And a view like that is supposed to help me get out of bed?” His voice was low, roughened, and you smiled, but didn’t turn around, instead reaching for your uniform and walking towards the bed.

“Don’t tease me, doctor,” you said, one hand on your hips, the other holding the hanger. You watched his eyes scan you, watched them linger over your breasts and trace your form downwards before flicking back up to meet your eyes. “Big day today, no time for it.”

“Who says I need to tease?” he asked, voice nonchalant. He sat up, reaching for you, and with a sigh you moved towards him, trying to repress a smile and failing miserably as he pulled you into his lap.

“It’s half the fun, my favorite chief medical officer,” you pointed out, and his groan this time was pressed into your skin, lips trailing over your collarbone down between your breasts, but you let out a small ‘tsk,’ gently untangling yourself even as your skin erupted into goosebumps. “And we don’t have time for fun. We have work to do today.”

And he knew that. He did. But you watched as he instead leaned down to kiss your skin again, right over your heart.

His eyes glanced back up at you, and this time you didn’t let him press against you, brow furrowing as a hand reached for his chin, tilted his gaze upward.

“Hey,” you whispered. “You all right?”

For a moment, you saw a flicker of what you saw last night – the fear settling like a shadow across his features, his tight swallow more signature than anything you’d seen before. With a small smile, you leaned down to peck his lips, before pulling him into a hug.

Just a hug, nothing more, but nothing less. For a moment he didn’t reciprocate it, but then you felt his arms move to wrap around you, fingers digging into your back as he took a moment to breathe.

“I’m here,” you told him again, urged him to hear. “I told you I would be.”

“I know, Y/N, I know,” he whispered. “I just. I’m glad to see it. See you.”

Your throat closed up, but you just nodded, and even though the minutes were ticking down, you both soaked up the touch. Needing it. Craving it.

-

Of course, the day had to continue. The two of you dressed without any fun to be had, even though when the emotion settled, he was sure to give you a few more once-overs anytime you glanced over to him.

“It’s my uniform,” you scoffed, sliding your shoes on with an eye roll.

“And you wear it incredibly well,” he argued, raising a brow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know it, either.”

“Oh, I do,” you laughed, standing up and smoothing down the white skirt, moving over to kiss him on the cheek before moving to the bathroom to do your hair.

In the end, the med bay of the starship Enterprise passed with flying colors. Leonard (and Christine, the recently promoted Head Nurse of the vessel) wouldn’t have settled for anything less, and the admiral who conducted the look shook his hand with such vigor that you knew a couple of people would be getting firm commendations. As soon as the admiral left, of course, everyone let out a deep sigh of relief, and Christine and Leonard both agreed that the whole team deserved a day off.

“We’re docked right now, aren’t we?” he pointed out. “If anyone has a problem, they can go to the med bay on the station. Dismissed… and good work.”

It was the highest compliment, to be sure, and eventually, everyone had filed out, with only you and Leonard lingering behind. And as soon as Christine left, with a handshake and a hug between the two of you, you rushed forward to wrap the doctor in a tight hug. He reciprocated firmly, almost collapsing into you, but you held him up, fingers curling into his blue shirt.

“I’m proud of you, okay?” you whispered when you pulled back, both hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I’m so, so proud.”

Leonard’s eyes closed, tightly, and he leaned into your fingers, turning his face to kiss your palm. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Without the whole team, you know that.”

“I know,” you agreed, before pulling your hand away to gently stroke his forehead, pushing his hair back. “And don’t you forget it. But you deserve a little bit of a credit, too.”

“A little bit.” Leonard’s smirk showed up, turned into a smile as he reached up to grab your hand, holding it in both of his, squeezing it. “And now, I think I deserve a bit of a nap. You mind if Dr. M’Benga takes over the rest of my shift?”

“You’re asking me if I mind?” you laughed, shaking your head. “I think you deserve sleep just as much as you deserve credit. A lot more.” With a smile, you let go of his hand, a final squeeze as you turned to the desk. “Go sleep. I’ll handle the cleanup, Christine can work with M’Benga to finish out the day.”

“Y/N.”  

You turned back to face him, blindsided by the way he grabbed you. Firm around the waist, spinning you towards him so he could kiss you. It was dramatic, romantic – whatever it was, it made your eyes widen in shock before closing in bliss.

He almost dipped you, too, one hand on the back of your head to hold you, the other wrapped around your waist. Both of your arms lifted to cross behind his neck, and when he pulled back, it was to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours.

“What was that for?” you asked, blinking a few times, grinning from ear to ear.

Leonard just chuckled, biting his lower lip before his eyes met yours, eyes brighter and deeper than you’d ever seen them. “You really think I was gonna let you sneak away without telling you I love you, too?”

Well. If that didn’t deserve another kiss… what did?

#reader-insert #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #female!reader #leonard mccoy #bones #christine chapel #my fic #fanfic #star trek: aos

[andromedarune]

Request ~ “Ok, ok. I want this from Raihan perspective I think it falls in the category of imagine or AU I guess, since you said is more easy for you to write the female perspective, what about the idea of Raihan becoming a woman for 24 hours, so he is shocked for a bit, but then he overcomes his panic with the idea of having a day free of responsibilities, nobody would recognize him and would be able to go out without fans or haters all over him. Maybe do a bit of mischief. I hope is okay.”

Hehehehe alright, time to write Raihan with a pair of titties FUCK YAH!!! Though I’m not sure if I did as good a job as I could have done, here y’all go. 

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Raihan Imagine)

Morning came softly, his mind slowly reviving from the depths of slumber in a blurry fashion. It was always a welcome sensation, processing the world and your sensations without a loud alarm blaring in your ear, hurriedly thrusting you into a world of loud stimuli and expectations. Which is the main reason why Raihan loved the weekends; slow, easy-going, relaxing. Even he needed his quiet moments. So, the gym leader took a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of his chest rising and falling as he kept his eyes closed a little longer. Soft satin sheets curled seductively around his bare form, making it hard to discern where his body ended and the bed began. Not like that really mattered at the moment. No, as he flipped over, sweeping his arms underneath his pillow for extra cuddling action, he reminded himself that this was his well-deserved rest, that nothing should get in the way of his rewarding day of sleep. Raihan snuggled a bit deeper into his mattress, eager to find the perfect position of comfort.

Huh, it’s a little awkward to sleep like this. He adjusted his body a bit more, but he couldn’t help but feel some constriction on his chest. A little tight. Kind of hard to breath. He groaned, reluctantly pushing himself up to get a breath of air. Strange; he felt a little, well, top heavy. But he was still sleepy, so he opted to lay on his side, for now. He pulled his legs in close to his body, eager to see if a fetal position would be comfy. But feeling his legs glide across each other so easily felt a bit… wrong?

Okay, something was definitely wrong here.

He pushed himself up, letting his plush duvet tumble down his body as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He absentmindedly scratched his chest, only to very quickly realize that something was most definitely wrong here. His eyes shot open. He felt a little more. Huh. He looked down. Ah.

“Uhhhh….” was about all he could manage before bolting out of his bed, all traces of sleepiness vanishing into the nothingness as he raced into the bathroom. “What. The. FUCK.”

He looked into the mirror, blinking a few times as he processed the unfamiliar figure that stared back at him. He was still clad in his briefs from the night before, but other than that, nothing else was really familiar. Sure, he was probably still the same height, had the same dreads (albeit maybe a bit longer?), the same dark skin, and the same blue eyes - but everything remotely familiar was completely overshadowed by the fact that he was apparently no longer a man. Every couple seconds, he would glance down to make sure he was seeing everything properly, only to shut his eyes tightly, as if he wasn’t allowed to look. Maybe he wasn’t - he didn’t know. He had no fucking clue what the hell was going on right now.

Raihan shook his head, trying in vain to steady his feverish breathing. He ran himself through everything that happened the day before: he woke up, went to work like always, trained for four hours, went to two meetings (one for the league and the other for a sponsorship opportunity), came back home, showered, went to grab a bite to eat with Leon, tended to his pokemon, hit a few clubs, got drunk, came home, passed the fuck out. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Friday night. The panic rose a little more. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his arm; a jolt of pain ran through his bicep, but not much else happened. He opened his eyes and saw that this was somehow not a dream. So what the FRICK FRACK PADDY WHACK was going on here?!

He can’t go outside like this. People would freak the hell out if they realized that he was the Great Raihan of Hammerlocke. And certainly none of his friends would believe him even if he did try to ask for help. He hardly recognized himself, so how would anybody else

He blinked. Suddenly, the panic subsided.

Nobody would recognize him. Like this, nobody would have the slightest clue that he was really the dragon-type gym leader. He was someone else entirely to the rest of the world. Which meant that all the downsides to his life no longer applied.

A devious smile worked its way onto his face, his eyes slowly growing accustomed to the new feminine features. He didn’t know how long this would last, so why not make the most of it? Being an attractive man was a party in and of itself; what about as a woman? Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

It took a little getting used to; his entire center of gravity was altered completely, but with a bit of practice, the gym leader found himself moving around with a newfound ease in his changed body. He hopped in the shower, trying to find a relatively neutral emotion amid the rising embarrassment and interest at his own body as he bathed. Afterwards, he rummaged through his closet for some simple clothes that wouldn’t arouse too much attention - a simple orange T-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that suddenly didn’t seem so skinny anymore, finished with a pair of white trainers and a black jacket. Everything was just a little big yet a little tight in strange places, but upon looking in the mirror it seemed as though nothing looked terribly awkward. He looked, dare he say, quite nice. He gave himself a cheeky wink, spinning on his heels and reached for his clip of pokeballs. Ah, he pulled back his hand, feeling a tinge of sadness, that might be pushing it. Everyone would recognize my team - best to just leave them here. With that, he grabbed some cash and ran out the door, eager to see how the world felt from a new point of view.

Raihan as himself gathered a lot of attention. Like, a lot. The poor man couldn’t even take a piss without someone recognizing him and trying to start up a conversation about anything. And for the most part, Raihan was okay with that. It meant he was famous. Sure, the load of hate comments he got on his social media was a bit annoying, and every now and then he had a few hecklers at his exhibition matches, but nothing he couldn’t handle. But now that he was able to walk down the street without so much as a second glance from people, a wave of newfound emotions washed over his body, far more refreshing than the nice autumn breeze that danced through Hammerlocke. Freedom.

He pranced into a bakery, one that he had always meant to visit (it was always closed by the time he got off work, most days, and was too busy to really comfortably visit on the weekends). Immediately, he was hit with the distinct smell of bread and coffee, filling up his senses in the best of ways. A decent line was formed by the display, people peering in the find the answer to their cravings without noticing the gym leader’s presence. He could’ve cried from the beauty of it all; who knew that being a nobody would be so relaxing? After waiting in line for several minutes, it was finally his turn. Raihan stepped towards the man behind the register, instinctively putting on his casual, easy-going smile.

“W-welcome,” the cashier got a good look at Raihan, suddenly turning rather bashful. “And, uh… W-what can I get for you, um, today?”

Raihan flicked up an eyebrow, curious at the man’s behavior. Surely he didn’t recognize him, right? With those bright red cheeks and the avoidance of eye contact, something was definitely - Oh, yeah. Kind of a hot chick. Raihan smiled a bit more, not even trying to hide his ego.

“Just a latte and a lemon cake, please.”

The cashier nodded furiously, slapping a few buttons on the cash register as fast as he could. The poor sap looked as though he was about to explode. This was about twenty times more entertaining than watching his fangirls get all flustered and embarrassed; it wasn’t often he saw a guy get so understandably disoriented in his mere presence. Fun. After a few moments, Raihan was walking away with his treasure, adding a little flourish to his steps as he excited the establishment. Raihan strode down the street, happily munching away on his cake and occasionally easing it all down with his hot coffee.

For the first time in years, Raihan was able to walk around his own city without anybody bothering him for autographs or battles or even a conversation. Sure, he accumulated a bit of attention wherever he went, but it wasn’t anything close to the fame of being the top gym leader. Just enough eyes were on him to feed his ego, but nobody seemed to care enough to bother him. Perfection. He meandered all around the town, finding this to be the perfect time to visit all the stores and establishments he’d always wanted to see. He wandered through clothing stores (he pretended to look through the girl clothes before eventually making his way into the men’s section, but thankfully nobody seemed to care), a little nursery that apparently had a brand new litter of adorable Yamper puppies, a busy restaurant that specializes in Alolan cuisine, and even got to watch that new Resident Weavile movie that everyone had been bashing online (it was terrible, but the good kind of terrible) - all the things he would have otherwise never been able to do as himself. Deep down, there was a part of him that really wanted this to stick, for him to have a fresh start in this world he already knew so well and try things at a different angle. Another part of him feared that he’d never go back to his old life; his love for battling and stardom was far too grand to be satisfied with a mild life, that’s for sure. So the gym leader eventually decided that if this all would disappear, he would at least get all his desires of simplicity out of his system before he lost his chance.

The day was winding down, the sun setting beneath the horizon of old buildings and tall trees. Raihan settled down onto a bench, enjoying the crispness of the air as he watched the sunset. Things seemed to be going really good - that is until he heard cheering erupt from somewhere behind him. Immediately, he tensed up, wondering if this was the end of his day of freedom; he slowly turned around, only to be greeted with something he wasn’t expecting. A large crowd had formed down near the train station, the sheer amount of squealing fangirls giving him an idea of who exactly had made the appearance. Curious, Raihan pushed himself to his feet and wandered over to investigate.

Leon’s booming voice easily carried in the air, his laugh echoing across the tall brick buildings that populated Hammerlocke.

“Thank you all very much for your constant support!” the champion’s voice bellowed out, a tinge of exhaustion just barely noticeable to Raihan. “But I’m only here to visit a friend of mine.”

The crowd sighed dejectedly, but eventually made way for him to walk through. Raihan hesitantly came to a stop just a bit away, trying to remind himself that Leon wouldn’t recognize him like this. Just as the champion emerged from the crowd, the two locked eyes. Raihan gave a smile and waved. He expected something similar in kind.

He was not expecting Leon to full-on look away, rubbing the back of his neck with a hot blush coating his face.

Oh shit.

“Hello,” Leon tried for a calm smile, but still looked plenty flustered as he approached the person he didn’t realize was his best guy friend. “Are you, perhaps, a fan?”

I should probably tell him, Raihan mulled that thought over in his mind.

“You could say that.”

“Do you want an autograph? I don’t mind sparing an extra league card for a special fan!”

Raihan nearly burst out laughing. But he didn’t, mainly because he at least gave Leon credit for using the icebreaker he had told him to use a few months back. Leon was always so terrible with women, and now he was, flirting with someone who only looked female. Oh, the embarrassment Leon would be feeling if only he knew…

“Ooo, so I’m special, huh? I’m honored, Mr. Champion~.”

Leon blushed some more, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a card and a pen that he always carried with him. This was totally fucked up, but Raihan let himself enjoy the moment as his unknowing best friend scribbled his autograph on a league card with hearts in his eyes. Raihan gave a wink as he took the card between his two fingers. He watched in cruel joy as Leon fumbled with a farewell, nearly stumbling over himself as he walked back down the street. This would definitely be a memory that Raihan would never forget.

The gym leader walked home not long after that, still snickering to himself over the escapades of the day. He snuck back to his apartment, hoping to keep himself from raising eyebrows from his neighbors as he slipped into the safety of his home. It was dark, and a soft light from his phone on his bed caught his attention just before he turned on the lights. The gym leader picked up the device; several missed calls, a bunch of unread messages, and perhaps a thousand various social media notifications. He skimmed all the notifications, surprised to find himself so surprised that people were curious at his sudden silence online. Various fans commented on his posts, many of which he recognized to be long-term fans of his work all noting how Raihan was never absent from the online-life. People he had never even met were genuinely worried about him. He looked at the calls. Most were work-related, a few numbers he sort of recognized as being some officials from the league that he never bothered to save their contact information; many were from Leon and some of the other gym leaders. His stomach rumbled with a small guilt. It’s a little harder to be ambivalent when it’s your friends who are worried, as well. He pulled up the messages, noting that most of them were the sporadic and short-fire messages from Leon (go figure), asking him where he was and if everything was alright. Raihan only paused for a moment to laugh when Leon mentioned meeting a beautiful woman earlier in the day. With a deep sigh, Raihan took the time to reply to the messages, eventually moving on to post a quick text update for his social media pages regarding his absence; everything was fine, he just wanted to be off the grid for a while. Comments flowed in, for once all positive. Raihan smiled, resting back into the warm confines of his bed. He had grown so accustomed to this body already, but he knew that he would be ready to return to his well-earned life as a gym leader sometime soon. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander a bit more as sleep began to claim him bit by bit. Even if he remained in this body forever, Raihan was certain that he much preferred the life of a star more than the life of a simple human. It was just how he was wired - nothing wrong with either lifestyle, of course. He smiled at that thought.

When morning arrived the next day, all was back to normal. Now, Raihan only had to figure out how he was going to face Leon again without busting into a fit of laughter.

#Raihan #fem!Raihan #swsh #pokemon #Pokemon Sword and shield #imagine #request #I'd imagine Raihan would just wanna chill and hold them tatties lolol #but I kept it sfw #sorta #au #pokemon au #gym leader raihain