#but sometimes. i think about homework and want to explode

[jubileesstuff]

I love Fics where Damian gets carried around. So here is a HC from me.

Bruce is at a meeting with the JL, and he brings Robin with him. Why? He just comes along, no real reason. Bruce shows Damian the watchtower, and they run into Hal and Barry. Hal and Barry never met Damian, and they think he is a normal child that fights crime with Batman. Well, they are wrong. They ask Damian which his favorite is, Flash or Green Lantern. Before Damian can say something, Bruce picks him up and carries him away; Damian is too stunned to say anything. This was actually smart, because Damian definitely would have destroyed Hal and Barry with words. Even if Bruce thinks that they're idiots sometimes, he still needs them, and he can't just let his son destroy their mental health with one sentence.

Later in a meeting something similar happens, but it's Superman asking. Before Damian can say anything, Bruce picks him up again, sits him in his lap, and starts patting his head. None of the heroes know it's for their own good; they think it's cute.

The picking up Damian thing also goes for the others. Once Duke and Damian are in the Gotham Library, because Damian has a group project and he refuses to go to the houses of his classmates and he also refuses to bring them to the Manor. Duke is also there just because he also has some homework to do (and because Bruce told him to supervise).

When one of Damian's classmates says that he doesn't like some random animal that Duke hasn't even heard about, he starts to sprint over to Damian and picks him up. Duke knows that Damian would have verbally destroyed the other kid, and he doesn't want to take care of a crying child.

This picking up and making Damian shut up thing works for everyone except Dick. The others say it's because Dick doesn't hold Damian tight enough or because he is too used to getting randomly picked up by Dick. He is a little bit salty about it when he learns during a mission that this also works with Stephanie.

The entire thing was first discovered by Alfred and Tim. Damian and Tim were alone with Alfred at the Manor, and they nearly got into a fight; however, Alfred walked in on them before something happened. He sees that they're both going to explode soon and that they will start fighting. So he decided to just take Damian and place him in a different room. He crouches down to Damian, ruffles his hair, and holds him, then takes his hand and leads him away. For some reason that completely resets Damian's brain (it's probably because in the league no one ever held him, except for training, and then it was violent).

Tim is like, 'What just happened with the Demon Brat?'.

And from that day on, they figured a way out to make Damian shut up.

[bugs1nmybrain]

✨️ L Lawliet w/ a Shy & Insecure Reader Headcanons ✨️

Notes: I got real specific here. I need some validation haha. I swear if L ever complimented me I'd implode and then explode like I've done many times in the DS game (don't make fun of me >:<)

I'm adding pink text and sparkles to the title. Cope with it DN twt

Warnings: 18+!!! There is some sexy content, no gendered terms or pronouns. I tried being inclusive with the sexy stuff. Talks about poor self-esteem and insecurities. L being his rude ass self at one point. Reader described as quiet. I did indeed write L as a sweetheart, and I don't regret it one bit! :D. Not proofread

For starters, shy isn't a problem for L. He appreciates that you're quiet and relatively polite. It makes it easier for him to get away with dating you because he knows you're not going to be obnoxious around headquarters, and there's a good chance you'll never even mention that you're his partner

He finds it vry cute. Especially when you stumble over your words when he flirts with you. His pride is very comfy with you.

You are a perfect parallel play lover!!! He's grateful that you don't pester him when he's busy, but he doesn't mind you being around him. You can draw, do homework, write, play video games, anything. He just appreciates your company. He's also 100% paying attention out of his peripheral vision.

But because you're quiet, sometimes you don't share all of your thoughts with him and it can make for a satisfying relationship. L sure as shit isn't disclosing a lot of stuff, so he sees it as even

A lot of your secrets are insecurities, though. You worry a lot about your competency as a romantic partner. Whether it's your intelligence, physical beauty, personality, interests, anything really. You're always anxious that you're not enough, and not enough for him.

L knows well that you lack confidence. He's torn, actually, because he wants to see you become more sure of yourself and he'll try to help. He teaches you skills when he has time and makes sure to compliment you when you do something good. Sometimes he stretches the truth in his praises just to make you feel better. He knows you value his opinion a lot.

However, your insecure nature is an easy opening for him to get away with a lot. Nothing that serious, but secret tests are a given with L, and he does like to test if you'll push through him not given you the validation he knows you want. It actually does make him feel like 10% bad, though, and he'll make up for it.

He understands why you're insecure, but at the same time, he thinks it's silly. Especially when you admit to him that you're worried about your physical appearance or sexual abilities. It's in those moments he just wants to tell you to stop because "have you seen me, y/n?"

But yes please flatter his ego

When you started sleeping together it actually was pretty smooth and natural

I truly believe L was a virgin until you, so he probably wasn't much more confident than you

The doom of adult virginity/inexperience is that everyone expects you to be pornographic by now, and for an insecure person that can be very demanding

L doesn't expect that and won't be disappointed by something slow and "vanilla." He likes that, honestly. But of course, if/whenever you're ready for something more spicy, he's very open to communicating about it

This guy is just happy to touch you, period

If you fumble because you're nervous, he's not upset, but he'll redirect you with affirming words

He does admittedly get irritated by consistent nagging and the self-deprecating comments you make. It annoys him after a bit. He'll likely disengage to avoid hurting your feelings, but if you're persistent, he'll give it to you straight.

"The only thing you should be insecure about is that you're a broken record."

Fight the tears

It actually does make him upset when you doubt him and his love for you. It makes him feel like you don't trust him. L is aware that he's deceptive by nature, but he wants you to trust that he values you. He certainly wouldn't be in a committed relationship with you if his feelings weren't genuine

So he reminds you. Again. And again. That he wants you in his life and treasures you

You're lucky that he loves you so much

Sometimes, you'll go through periods of isolating from him because you're afraid of bothering him. Trust me. He's glad to have time to work, but he does pick up on your distance quick

You're so afraid of asking him for attention

or even just a bite of his cake. He always offers, tho.

But yea. L is a busy guy and comfortable in seclusion, so he isn't that clingy. He can go a long time without checking in on you, which doesn't help the paranoia

When he decides to take a break for once, usually his first instinct is to either 1. Get coffee or a treat, or 2. Make a bee line to see you!!

OR 3. BRING YOU FOOD TO SHARE

Know that he loves you much more than most things. You are his priority, even if his work takes precedence at times.

He'll attempt to build your trust over time because he understands how hard it is to believe in someone's honesty. It'll get better, and you'll likely start to feel more self-assured with him. L talks a lot, but he believes actions speak louder than words, so he'll show you how much he loves you through the little things because you light up his world after an exhausting day full of murder and nonstop thinking. You're home to him and he wants you to feel the same way about him.

[ramen8008]

The Avengers and whether Tony will allow them to Babysit Peter.

A List

Rhodey:

Yes only one other than Pepper I will fully trust to make sure Peter doesn't die.

Yes, Rhodey is cool other than the fact he is so used to Mr. Stark's shit that it's impossible to trick him into doing anything dangerous. So it gets boring

Thor:

No. Point break you're great but I can't trust you and Peter not to cause absolute HAVOC.

YES YES! Lord Thor is the best. We tested how much lightning I could handle last time and we flew!! And he let me use his hammer (idk why he looked surprised I think he forgot about my super strength)

Loki:

He shouldn't even be on the list- but Mr. Stark. No, he comes near you and you or the world explodes.

Well I think Mr. Loki is cool and fun! So yes

NOT HAPPENING!

Natasha:

Yes.

She's scary but yes.

Bucky:

Oddly enough? I actually think he'll make sure Peter doesn't die. So yeah

OMG ROBOT ARM! AND he likes the Hobbit! We can talk all day!! YESS

Steve:

Again surprisingly no. Maybe? Mainly for his sanity. He could not keep up with Peter. I don't care how strong he is Peter will make this 80 year old go into a coma.

Okay rude! Cap is great and all but I am scarred for life from his PSA's. I can't do that again. I have severe PTSD from that.

Clint:

I UNDERSTAND in hindsight he is the only one who has experience with kids. I GET that. But no. Not the Clint I know. I still think his family is just a bunch of spies.

Hawkeye is SO much fun! He was really cool and he actually understood the references I was making and he taught me how to shoot a bow. AND the best way to prank each Avenger! YES

Banner:

Yes. Absolutely. Peter would have fun. Banner would have fun. He would make sure Peter can do all his science stuff in the lab too without exploding his homework

THAT WAS ONE TIME! And omg YES The Dr. Banner?! I would love that! I have so much I want to talk about!!

Wanda:

What? She's just a kid. SHE needs babysitting too.

Omg Yes! It'll be like we're hanging out! She's so cool!

Vision:

You would ASSUME that Vision would be a no brainer but due to his internet knowledge he understands whatever that slang nonsense that Peter speaks in and Vision speaks back the same. I'll come back to them having a conversation that doesn't make any sense!

Cap. You're just outdated. Unlike you we are both skibidi rizzlers. Don't be salty that you can understand the fam. We're slay and it's high-key sus you don't get our energy.

NONE of that was even remotely coherent. You don't talk like that normally. Why do you do this to me??

Strange:

I would. I really would even if it was just to annoy him but he would not let me. I called him once to look after Peter for me and the moment he heard the name "Peter" he hung up.

He's mean sometimes :(. BUT he is also magic which is really cool and annoying him is fun and I know he cares for me. Mentioning that to him is also fun. So yes

[junwritten]

my blogger

pairing: choi yeonjun x f!reader

genre: fluff, mutual pining, slice of life, light academia vibes

warnings: light swearing, mild academic stress, adorable yeonjun being adorable

summary: you’re sitting at starbucks with your crush doing homework when he invites you over to a friend’s place—and drops a line that just might ruin you forever.

MDNI . txt masterlist

you don’t really mean to fall in love with choi yeonjun.

it just kind of… happens.

it starts in your elective media studies class, where he shows up with fluffy hair, chapstick shimmer on the edge of his cup, and opinions on blogging that make the whole room sit up straighter. you don’t talk to him for the first two weeks. you just write about him.

because, well—your professor made you start a blog. and not just a pretend blog—a real one, with actual weekly entries about digital culture, personal reflections, media consumption, blah blah. most of your classmates do the bare minimum.

but you? you write essays about yeonjun.

not directly, obviously. that would be unhinged. you just refer to him vaguely as “the boy with the soft laugh who sits by the window.” and “gloss boy,” once, which is embarrassing in retrospect.

you write about how he talks with his hands, like he’s painting ideas in midair. how he doodles on the sides of his notes. how he reads blog posts out loud with this half-laugh in his voice, like everything is secretly funny to him.

so when he turns to you one day and goes, “hey, wanna get coffee and study sometime?” you nearly choke on your own breath.

but somehow you say yes. and even more miraculously, it turns into a habit.

starbucks becomes your thing.

you get the same drinks each time—he orders some ridiculous iced monstrosity with extra whipped cream and strawberry drizzle, and you get a boring latte and steal sips from his cup when he offers. he always offers. you always pretend not to want it and then take it anyway.

you work together, side by side, laptops open, headphones half-on. he makes you laugh more than you probably should during a study session. you keep writing blog entries about him, even though your class only requires one a week and you’re way past the limit.

and okay. maybe you’re delusional. but sometimes it feels like he’s writing about you too. not in blog posts—you’ve never seen his, he’s secretive about it—but in the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. in the way he saves the seat next to him with his jacket. in the way he texts you at midnight like, “send me a pic of your notes i zoned out thinking about waffles.”

you’re so down bad it’s painful.

today’s no different.

he’s waiting for you at the usual table when you arrive, spinning his iced drink between his hands, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“you’re late,” he says with a grin.

“you’re early,” you shoot back, sliding into the chair across from him.

your laptop’s heavy in your bag, your brain foggy from too many late nights, but something about being here—being next to him—makes everything feel easier. he always does.

you sip your drink, scroll through your notes, make it exactly fifteen minutes before he distracts you again.

“hey,” he says suddenly, glancing at his phone. “soobin just texted. he’s having people over. wanna come?”

you blink. “oh, i thought you were just heading over to his place.”

“yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “but aren’t you coming?”

you pause, caught off guard. you were fully prepared to say goodbye, to sit here alone with your homework and your unspoken feelings.

“well…” you start.

but before you can finish, he’s looking at you with that stupid, goofy smile. the one he only ever really gives to you. and he says, with zero hesitation and all the dramatic flair of someone who absolutely knows what he’s doing.

“i’d be lost without my blogger.”

you freeze.

your heart skips three beats. maybe four. your brain explodes.

“you—” you choke out. “what?”

he just sips his drink, unbothered. smug. “what?” he echoes, voice light.

“you know about my blog?” you hiss, leaning across the table like it’s a secret government mission. “how do you—”

“you write like you think no one’s ever gonna read it,” he says, all soft and honest, like he hasn’t just upended your entire existence. “but i read it. every post.”

you are going to die right here in this starbucks.

“you’re the reason i passed that midterm,” he adds. “your notes? immaculate. your media takes? unhinged but smart. your entries about ‘the boy with the soft laugh’?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “flattering.”

you cover your face with both hands. “oh my god.”

he laughs—actual, full-body laughs—and reaches out like he’s going to tug your hands away, then thinks better of it and just lightly taps your wrist.

“you’re a good writer,” he says. “and a terrible liar.”

you peek through your fingers. “how long have you known?”

“first week,” he says. “you posted about my ‘strawberry crime against coffee.’ i put two and two together.”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“i dunno,” he shrugs. “i liked being your secret muse.”

you groan. “yeonjun.”

he tilts his head. “what?”

you lower your hands, exhale, and look at him—really look at him

he’s so annoyingly pretty. he’s so bright, and funny, and stupidly clever, and he’s looking at you like you’re something worth reading twice.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter.

“oh?” he says, smirking. “so you do think i’m cute.”

you shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “are we going to soobin’s or not?”

“only if you sit next to me the whole time,” he says. “i need my blogger.”

“you’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“not a chance.”

you pack up your stuff together, sipping from the same drink, your shoulders brushing as you walk out into the golden haze of late afternoon.

it’s a little ridiculous. a little romantic. painfully soft.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next. you don’t know if this means anything real, or if he’s just teasing, or if you’re dreaming this whole thing up and you’ll wake up in your dorm bed with a dead phone and a missed alarm.

but then he slips his hand into yours without saying a word.

and you think maybe—just maybe—you’re not the only one who’s been writing love letters between the lines.

later that night, when he falls asleep halfway through a movie at soobin’s, curled into your side with his head on your shoulder, you take a picture of him and post it to your blog with no caption.

the next morning, he reblogs it from his burner account.

the tags say:

#i’d be lost without her

#yes this is about me

#no i’m not embarrassed

and you just sit there smiling at your phone like an idiot, typing one final entry for the class.

“there’s a boy i wrote about once. i thought he’d never know. i thought if he did, it would ruin everything. but it didn’t. it made everything better. it made everything real.”

you hit post.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re writing for a grade.

you feel like you’re writing for the boy who sees you.

the one who reads between the lines.

and honestly?

you’d be lost without him, too.

[lady-ashfade]

Unpopular class 1A characters and their yandere traits!!

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Characters: Kouji Kouda, Rikidou Satou, Mashirao Ojiro, Yuuga Aoyama, Fumikage Tokoyami, Tooru Hagakure, Mezou Shouji. {Class 1A as a whole yandere group tho}

WARNINGS: Yandere Behaviors, Stalking, Violates, Crazy Behavior, I don’t condone this in real life only fiction, so many spelling errors I’m so sorry.

GENRA: HCS

Rikidou Satou

Equally could be platonic or romantic.

I want him as a yandere so bad. I think he’s perfect, and not just because our quirks would be similar—

He is more of a tame yandere and really just wants to protect you, but respects you so much. So let me explain.

Is the type to wanna baby you, and 100% will when the time is needed but he also loves when you feel confident. So he’s not the type to wanna get your hero license taken away. But doesn’t like you on your own fighting either.

Pocket full or treats for you. Take down a villain? Treat. Get the tests right? Treat. SMILE AT HIM? Treat for you.

He’s not as crazy as his classmates but can be convinced to do anything that is needed.

Satou wants to be noticed by you since he is more in the background, or not in the loud groups that do get your attention. So he tries to be the best at things they aren’t just for you to be around him. Like baking sweets for you anytime you- does guilt trip you and put you on the spot sometimes.

“I know everyone is busy, I just thought you’d be my taste tester- No worries, I’ll just wait until next week.” Stuff like that to get you to feel a bit bad for rejecting him.

Alone, Satou would be a comfortable yandere to deal with but when he’s group up, can be worse. He’s is always going to be the reasonable one.

 Doesn’t have a big shrine of you, but does keep a shoebox under his bed with things you have given or lost. He isn’t creepy so nothing is weird in this pile. Literally just takes things you forgot behind in class or in battle.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Still big on the chill side.

When the group/or him kidnapped you, he’s going to just be a friend and try to stick up for you when he can.

WILL FIGHT FOR YOU TO GET SOME SUN! He knows it’s important.

If he or the others need to punish you, tries to get you a light punishment. And really easy to sucker into sneaking you snacks, or just giving.

Tho, he will never be the one giving you any type of punishment. Like locking you in your room or anything else.

If he’s alone yandere, he’s taking away the internet and your game console….Which lasts about two days before your begging gets to him.

Kouji Kouda

More platonic yandere but he’s a cutie so, whatever you want boo.

You know how I feel about quite sunshine characters— let me cook.

He is tame- he’s a sweet yandere to have and much like satou….But he does have some tendency that could be really creep.

Stalker this little guy— has birds or other small animals watching your every move. Outside your window at night, walking to class, training.

He’s not dangerous and would never hurt you. Also respects you as a person, wouldn’t take your hero licenses away, likes when you fight beside him. So you have that going for you.

He’s using cute animals to worm his way to your side and in your life more. If you’re the type to not wanna hang out with anyone, oops- how did that bunny get into you room? So he’s using animals to be near you. And it works most of the time. Because he is quite and pleasant to be around so you let him in your room while you pet the animals. I see you guys study or doing homework together and just chilling in your room in silence.

He wants to baby you but is too shy to do anything, please— would explode if he pets your head even once. He is the type to wanna comfort you but doesn’t say much, just kinda lets you cry on his shoulders if you need it.

“Bunny?” Shoves a bunny in your face while tears stream down your cheeks.

Freaks out if you get hurt. He’s screaming when you got a bloody knee from tripping and is running to get a first aid kit and the others. It’s weird, he sees you get punched and kick, and hates it, but freaks out over the little things.

Has, and will cry again if you get a paper cut.

He’s not Alone. I don’t see him really as a yandere to not work in a group, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be. If he’s alone his tendency are more under the radar and will never act on anything.

Doesn’t have a shrine. Doesn’t really take things from you either. But will place things you give him in a box where they are nice and safe. Also will have a picture of you together on his wall.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

If he were to ever actually become crazy like the others it would be more dangerous.

He has animals, can control any of them. So, he would have poisonous animals or insects. And will cause harm if he’s corrupted.

Like I said, if he’s with a group he’s okay with them kidnapping you- but alone I don’t think he would.

If he’s all by himself, he’s somehow getting you to move in with him.

Doesn’t like you getting punished and I don’t think would ever actually punish you. IF he had to, I think he limited your animal hours down.

Tooru Hagakure

Crazy cult fangirl yandere. Literally she’s crushing on you and fangirl so hard over you just looking at her. So she’s romantic, or if you want platonic. Wouldn’t force you to have feelings for her but he feelings stay the same. (at least in this fic)

What doesn’t this girl do? Stalks you everywhere, she can’t be seen. Steals your stuff all the time when your not looking.

Does baby you. But also hypes you up to be like a god. Thinks everything you do is better then anyone on earth or the galaxy. You could literally sit down and she’s wonder “How can they be so cute?” PLEASE SOMEONE COME GET HER-

She could be one to take your hero license away or not. Depends on your quirk or her level of craziness.

If you have a quirk that’s not getting much better or she thinks isn’t going to keep you safe in the long run- kiss your freedom goodbye. But if you have a overpowered quirk and are in the top five in class. She’s freaking out.

I don’t think she would hurt you. So you don’t have to worry about her doing things really messes up. Her love is just overwhelming to handle, even platonically.

She’s touching you 24/7. Playing with your hair even if you push her away, taking your hand in hers to lead you somewhere, kissing your cheek when you do well.

Love letter yandere anyone? Leaves letters in your locker or bag every few days. How good you look each day, telling you she wants you to kiss her or protect her, to hold your hand for longer then a few minutes, where she wants to get married—

Honestly, she will do anything you ask her to. Because you asked her, only her— you need her! She will run off to do what you want her too. If she’s annoying you, all you have to do is ask her to go get you a snack and she’s out of your room like the flash to get it.

Takes millions of pictures of you— is the class picture dealer. Like image her in the dead of night, hoodie on, making a trade off of your pictures. “What do you want? I got ones of them sleeping, got one fighting a villain” trades for almost anything. Other pictures they took, things of yours, even cash.

Has a shine for sure! It could be in her locked closet, or a really big box that she pulls out and sets up right before bed and prays to it like a god. Has made a you doll and kisses it before bed.

“Please, let them look at me tomorrow— let them touch me in anyway! I’ll take anything”

Mentioned before she steals so she has your clothes, jewelry if you wear it, even your homework you threw out just to see your handwriting. Pictures too…..I wouldn’t put it passed her to have hair.

If you tell her you like the outfit she has on, wears it and similar things from now on. Maybe she was wearing Minas or the other girls clothes. She will burn her own and replace them immediately of things you like.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Doesn’t really get more dangerous because she’s not a “dangerous” yandere. She’s just a stalking/worshipper yandere. Kinda like your own personal cult follower if you will.

Only way she would hurt or kill is with the other girls. And even then it’s a stretch. Unless it’s a female that she or the group doesn’t know, then she would hurt someone.

Wouldn’t kidnap you on her own though, like Kouda she will trick you into living with her. But wouldn’t be mad if the group wanted to kidnap you.

Shocker- wouldn’t punish you and really tries to tell the others not to.

Cult type again, wants to be hurt or have the restrictions that you do just to know what you’re going through- even will let you yell at her to let your frustrations out. She’s there for anything you need!!

Punishment on her own is trying to ignore you for a while, but ends up only lasting five minutes until she’s apologizing with tears.

Fumikage Tokoyami

I think also as equal to romantic or platonic.

Silent watcher type vibes. He stalks a bit, and his behaviors are hidden. Only ones that know about them are his classmates.

Watches you like a hawk- Ha! He really enjoys just watching you from a distance for a while, how you look when it’s quiet and your studying alone. What interests you do alone. And he doesn’t mind watching you hang out with others, he likes to see you smile. (Only with his classmates)

Kinda babies you. He just pushes you out of harms way even if you took down ten villains, “I’ve got you.” So that’s kinda babying. He knows your capable but he just really wants to be your hero. (Hero by skillet) But don’t get him wrong, he finds it cute if you’re powerful and take down villains! Loves the look of justice in your eyes.

Would he take away your hero license? Yes and no. Depends.

Can be easy agreed to it with others and by himself, but if someone makes a good point to keep you in the hero agencies he’s also willing. More Satou a bit when it comes down to it. He just wants you fighting low level villains, nothing high threat and will be there by your side.

When he does get out of the shadows he’s so chill to be around. Just stays by you and does anything you are doing. Studying? He’ll sit with you. Need someone to play a game? He’ll be happy to.

Gets flustered to. Complement this man and he’s hiding in the corner like Tamaki. Pat his shoulder and he’s gone.

He’s kinda just around you, not too chatty but not quite if you want him to be. He really just wants to be someone you want around.

Has a poem journal that he writes in daily and all of them are about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Jiro turn them into songs.

Would never ever hurt you! Who do you think this man is? I feel like he would raise his voice once out of concern once and then beat himself up over it and feel so unworthy of your attention that he wouldn’t speak to you for a month.

Small shrine, like a deity’s. Candle, rocks and other things you might like, about two photos and keeps it hidden in his closet. Lights it and sits at it while reading over his journal, then once again in the morning before going to class.

Dark shadow is kinda different then him and will shoot out of his body to talk to you. It’s so different. Tokoyami is sitting at his desk across the room while dark shadow is talking your ear off. That shadow really loves you and is so annoying, but it’s cute. Is the voice of chaos in Tokoyamis head.

“Steal their jacket, I wanna sleep with it at night.” “I could slap Izuku away from them—” “Did y/n see me while training? Did I look cool?”

Has stolen your jackets mostly, again anything you have left that he can find but isn’t too worried about it. I think the only reason he actually has the jackets is because of darkshadow taking them but likes them to much to give it back.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Dangerous? He could be but normally no, unless he snaps or is under the influence of the group.

Darkshadow on the other hand would be at night, seriously really. Have you seen him when he’s not controlled? Imagine as a yandere.

But alone I don’t think so. They both are kinda chill, even might let you live a normal life as they are your guardian. Like buying a apartment near you, watch you grow old as they do too.

Probably wouldn’t kidnap you. And if romantic, will try and make you fall for him so he doesn’t have to kidnap you! It’s so much better if your willing to love him.

Might hurt someone mildly if they are too close, might also kill somebody if they are trying to hurt you.

If kidnapped by the group he’s trying to make you feel better, get you out into the sun would be nice.

Punishment with him is light, will lock you in your room for a week, with limited screen time thats only tv for two hours a day, but of course feeds you everything you need.

But with the group he’s not going along with anything they say. Hates strong punishments they give you, and has had to be knocked out to get him to stop fighting back.

Yuuga Aoyama

I am mostly writing for platonic but imagine what you want!!

Fanboy Cult and worshiper. He’s strange to describe. Thinks the world of you, thinks you are better then everyone else, but “You could use a better wardrobe.” You know? Might see you as a doll of some sort.

Thinks he can “fix” you imperfections that still make you so much better then the rest. Outfits, your hair, makeup if you wear it, how to make yourself a flashy hero. He has pointers for everything!

He really does love you tho. Will get you a red carpet and have you walk it all day long anywhere you go because you deserve it.

If you have a powerful quirk? He’s jumping behind his savior. You wanna protect him, you’re the most precious on the earth. So he pays you back by being your most loyal follower!

Meets with Hagakure to do trades of your stuff he steals because he’s constantly in your room, even if you try and push him out. Like I mean this man has bags full of stuff from over the year of school and everything.

“I got hair brushes, toothbrushes, earphones” the list goes on and on for dealer Aoyama.

Even if not romantic, he’s laying on you while watching a movie, that’s just him- and giving you cheese! If your lactose intolerance, he found a way to give you fake cheese that’s so expensive.

Does baby you so much as try and guide you like a personal assistant. “Straighten your back” or “use more of your leg power” in training or taking pictures, anything you can think of. “Throws” out your clothes and gets you new ones that make you look better. Like I said, you’re a doll and he’ll pull the strings!

Using so much guilt trip on you, you might be color blinded to a red flag. Hangouts, you said you would? Why are you lying, did you forget you promised?.He is trying to get every ounce of attention from you he can, and if it means making you feel a little insecure he will do it.

But is still a follower so he will try and impress you himself, after all you’re his god! Need something expensive, take his money! Eat his food. He doesn’t really care what you need, just call on him and your wish is his command.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

The exact same if in a group of alone. He’s obsessed over you, and ready to be your follower.

Doesn’t hurt or kill anyone. It’s not his style, might ruin a nail or get blood on his clothes. No he’ll leave that to the others.

Kidnap? Not alone, he’s making you move in with him in a big mansions where you have everything you want. Pays for everything so you can live like a god.

But not against it in a group, still decorates you new home with things you like. He doesn’t care, he’s just going to be with you!

Punishment— Taking away your cards so you can’t shop. For a week, you can’t use his money.

“I’m not cruel,” he whines as he places things he bought for you on the table, “I just said you couldn’t buy anything.” Feels so bad he caved and buys shit for you, only to give you back the cards.

I feel like gift giving and money is his way of showing his love. You need him- you can’t leave him if you need money to survive.

Group punishment: no matter what happens he’s going to buy you shit to make you smile again. Wouldn’t be in the same area if they do something other then locking you in a room.

Mashirao Ojiro

Romantic, but also platonic and wouldn’t force you to like him back.

“Friendly” obsessed protecter yandere. If romantic, he’s the secretly in love with you best friend.

Even if your quirk is more powerful then is, he’ll still stand in the way of danger for you, his darling.

Masks his behaviors well, because he’s just a cool loving best friend. Nothing weird about it. I believe he started out slow, even if he was still obsessed with you. If the class was acting on their tendencies, he pulls back and makes himself look like the most uninterested one there.

So you obviously go for him and befriend him. While the others flock towards you and constantly bicker over you. Ojiro got your back for just being a friend! And he really plays it so well, man manipulated you into thinking he’s normal. 😐

Until he wasn’t, or you were more comfortable now and best friends. He started to touch you more but not as often as the others— and in subtle ways. Like pats on the head, shoulders, then helping you train and pushing your body around. Then comes your head on his shoulders, or his arm around your shoulders. He’s still soft about it and never does it for long.

He doesn’t baby you, but teases you like best friends do. Or helps you when you need to be help. The only time I see him “babying” you is in combat because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. (Boy- you just took down a super villain)

You have access to his tail at anytime of the day, keeps it looking nice just for you and allows you to do anything. Like put bows on it, braid it, you wanna put some semi-permanent dye on it? Go ahead.

Does stalk you sometimes but hardly ever. Or, follows you around. He does have a tracker placed on your phone so he knows exactly where you are.

Hang outs in your room all the time just to play video games and study. He’s always trying to make you laugh.

He does steal. Leaving things in his room? He doesn’t remember you leaving it, maybe check your room! Almost anything you leave in his room is his now, and boy does he gaslight you into thinking your crazy.

Shrine! Shrine! Closet shrine for sure so he doesn’t knock anything over. Pictures, things he stole, flowers, small notes he’s written to you, anything.

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. Can’t tell his tendencies because he hides them, or makes you feel insane for thinking he’s weird. I means, he’s nothing like the rest of them so maybe you are just paranoid.

“Don’t sweat it, I once thought denki would hide in my room to play with my tail,” he just smiles and shrugs off your accusations. Inside his screaming to not mess this up.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

Not dangerous alone, not dangerous at all even if he went crazy.

Listen I love this man but he wouldn’t scare me as a yandere. Because he is still sweet and loving, even if he is a little crazy.

But he would beat up people don’t get me wrong, or threaten them anonymously and frighten them so much. Really just threats people to stay away from you. Has giving his fair share of black eyes.

Kidnap? Yeah, I think he would. I feel like this guy would kidnap you if he wanted to. Because you trust him and it’s easy to let you guard down around him, so he slips something in your drink and takes you to your new home!!

So he is okay with the group kidnapping you, and wants to do it in a non traumatic way. 

Punishment: might chain you up and lock you in a room, but he’s not cruel. Gives you good meals but no desserts and plays a movie for you every day for entertainment. Only stops when you’re ready to say your sorry for what you did.

Group punishment: doesn’t wanna hear about hard punishment if you get them, so he just visit you when it’s all over or going on. He will try and comfort you like he always did, let you pet his tail and even wants to hold you while you cry!

“I’m sorry pumpkin, but this is all for your own good! Now just cry and eat your dinner.”

Mezou Shouji

Lemme start off by saying this, I don’t write for him a lot- BUT BOY DO I LOVE THIS MAN.

Can be seen as platonic or romantic, kinda going for both.

Protective sneaky watcher yandere. A lot like Tokoyami in so many ways, likes watching from a far. I think he wouldn’t know how to express his feels because he just feels so much and doesn’t wanna scare you off. So when is around you, he’s silent at irst.

Has the main three type of protective behaviors, like pulling up behind him or fighting for you. Doesn’t care if you can snap you fingers and everything is gone. You’re his darling, If you powerful- in his eyes you’re weak and need to be sheltered from the world.

So is all in favor to make you stop being a hero, might even be the type to frame you if it feels necessary. You might be able to convince him to be a sidekick for him or another hero WHO he also follows around. You’re not fighting pro level, help the people who have stolen bicycle or lost their cat in a tree.

Did someone say stealer? HIDE YOUR SHIT! Lost a item? Found your drawer half open and missing a shirt or other things? Shouji breaks into your room, even finds Deku, Shoto, and even bakugo and the girls in there sometimes. Doesn’t care, they snoop together. “This never happened.”

At first he was scared of frightening you, but slowly over time he warmed up to you. So much that you both became friends, or friendly acquaintances. MF would pat your head so much like you’re a pat. From getting a answer right, to eating all the food on your plate, headpat for his darling.

Holds you all the time in his little arm holder thing, like he kept Froppy in, or just wraps all his arms around you. You better hope you can tolerate him because he’s not letting go.

Might baby you a little but not to hard. Mostly pats on the head, candy for being good- wait, let him tie your shoes. Babying without degrading words. (Unlike Bakugo)

Does have shrine- or at least kinda. Just has a pile of your shit and hides it, then at night he smells the clothes and holds them close. No candles or anything. Probably has a photo shrine tho.

What would happen if they become dangerous? Or more crazy? Group or alone.

He’s not that dangerous, leaves violents mostly to the others and takes care of you. But alone he’s not doing much.

Would kidnap you. Alone or with a group. The only one on this list that would probably go with the group to take you away.

Alone, it’s nice because he just wanted to cuddle and protect you. Will chain you if you don’t behave and will keep you like that for life, so just be good! Buys you anything you want too. Food, clothes, games. Might let you out of the house but only in private areas.

Grouped, really just wants to be there for you and with you. So, he just stays near you, or watches you from the security cameras while you sleep.

Punishment alone- chained up like I said but not much more, unless no contact with you other then food. Leaves you alone in your room until you’re saying sorry.

Punishment grouped, same as alone. He’s okay with it unless they wanna hurt you, then he draws the line! No one should hurt his precious darling! Will be there with a comfortable hug no matter what happens!!

[princesayumi4k]

NFSW: Red SFW: Blue

Tenya has always seemed stern until you both got together. Ever since, he is clingy, will let you wear his glasses for fun, shares everything with you - even his phone and clothes.

He always goes to you for any problems, even sexual ones. (If he isn't smart enough to solve them himself.)

He spoils you rotten.

One thing that is sort of toxic about Tenya is the fact that he will make you do your homework - and will only help you under certain conditions. One plus is that he will play with your hair and praise you while you do it though.

He doesn't follow any girls on social media except his family members!

Everyone teases you for dating him, but he's not bad at all as a person or as a boyfriend.

He is autistic and was diagnosed with tourette's as a child but refuses to believe he has them just because he has a few occasional tics. (He also has ADHD which will make him pace around often)

Speaking of "pace"...during sex, he prefers to go a bit fast, but will slow down if you need him to. He prefers mating press so he can hear you if you say a/the safe word or if you start crying.

I feel like Tenya is a switch, like, if he is mad he wants to be dominant or if he just wants to have sex normally he's a dom, but the second you start sucking him off he's a sub - and other times are when you volunteer or if he just feels "bad" and wants to be "punished"

He hates PDA, the only thing he will do is hold hands. And it's not because of you - it's because he knows that people see you much more attractive than him and he wants to keep an eye out to see if anyone else checks you out - if someone does he immediately notices and will either shoot them a rude glare or will get uncomfortable and start kissing you in front of them - just to make them jealous. Sometimes he will sneak to grab your ass while doing so.

He absolutely loves your ass, and (if your a female) he loves your tits. (Oh yeah, quick mention I think that Tenya would be pansexual...)

He doesn't know how you see yourself as ugly, ass soon as you start talking and about yourself he wants to explode. He usually says things along the lines as "How could you not like how you look when you're dating me?"

Tenya is insecure, especially because he thinks you're much more attractive than he will ever be.

Tenya doesn't "hate sex" but doesn't "love it" either. He does it to pleasure the both of you and also because he thinks it's important to do in a relationship as what he calls it, a "step up".

You could probably guess/assume this...but Tenya's diet is healthy for the most part so his seed is very swallow-able. His seed's taste can be most comparable to a salt cracker that you get from buffets - but that's just the faint taste, it kind of tastes like chocolate milk? - He's very scared to cum inside you (without protection + if you're a girl and he's hitting from the front) but he will do it if you insist. He can't last long though, which is kind of disappointing but his cum is warm, and will shoot up instead of just laying in a spot, may I add, Tenya loves watching it dribble out of you.

This man is a god at aftercare. He will take a few breaths after he cums, pull out, wait for a few seconds to see if it dribbles out of you and then slowly becomes flaccid, but he will lay beside you and hold you close. The first question he asks is if you're okay, then will ask if he did good. He even takes little notes in his mind to see what he can do better.

The best thing about sex with this man is that he researches a bit every now and then, he learns your sensitive spots and will pound into them. He doesn't mean to hurt you when he does though, he says "I love you" before he cums and will whisper "I'm sorry dear..." if he thinks he hurts you while pounding.

Now, I say pounding but I don't mean like a rough dom pounding senselessly, I mean right before he cums he goes extra fast and rough so he can cum faster.

One thing he hates is titjobs, it gives him not only an extra mess to clean but he takes much longer to cum and it doesn't feel the same. Not that he doesn't love your tits or your body at all - he just hates titjobs. He's a sucker for handjobs though.

One thing he will never do is let you interrupt his studies with sex, he loves you and enjoys sex with you...but no. Sex is important in a relationship, he thinks so - but he thinks education is important as well so if you ever get married with Tenya he can get a good job for you and spoil you more, along with provide a roof over (y)our head(s).

DICK SIZE? Tenya is 6.5 inches flaccid and a good 8-8.5 when erect. He's thicker than he is long, but he's good at sex no matter what.

[strangelysamantha]

heart to heart ❀

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: mention of being drugged, but otherwise pure fluff.

words: 987.

summary: at the starcourt mall bathroom, you and steve have a heart to heart.

request? no

a/n: it won’t let me insert links anymore and i’m very upset about it. but i’m happy to be writing again so i guess i have that going for me! can’t wait to produce a bunch of stranger things content.

my masterlist

—————————————-

you lay on the floor of the bathroom, your back slouched against the wall. your head wasn’t spinning as bad so that was good, but now the spiral to sobriety made your mind rush with thoughts. the starcourt mall had harsh lights, and you struggled to stick with any thoughts, overwhelmed by the torture you had barely escaped from. steve harrington was quiet in the stall next to you. a groan emitting from your lips. “are you okay steve?” you find the courage to question. you were nervous to break the silence, but if you had to endure it any longer you would explode. he hesitates, “yeah, i think uh,” he waits, “i think im alright.” you nod, although he’s unable to acknowledge it. “how about you? are you okay over there?” you stay quiet, unsure how to answer. “hello?” there’s worry in his voice, and he doesn’t wait to slide under the stall door to comfort you.

you grimace at him, “do you realize how gross the bathroom floor is?” you crack a smile, amused. he shrugs, “after all that fighting today, i already needed to wash the uniform, what difference will it make?” the two of you break out into laughter, “maybe it’s not fully out of our system yet.” this makes you laugh even harder. you take a moment to catch your breath. “steve?” he hums in response, “i’m glad i was with you in the battle against the russians.” he makes eye contact with you, “true, i’m pretty badass aren’t i?” you bite your lip nervously, “yes but you did deal with alot though.” he looks away, “i just want you to know im here for you. i mean what else can we go through that’s going to top breaking into a hidden russian lair?”

“i hope nothing… but this town is crawling with bad people. you can’t ever be safe.” his demeanor hurts, the pitiful comment causes your heart to sting. “yeah that’s what scares me.” you admit. “we’ll get through it together okay? we’re a good team.” you nod at his reassuring words, “let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” you collect your thoughts, “it’s funny to think that just last week we scooped ice cream for a living, and then we almost died.” steve smirks, “it’s quite the story to tell though.”

“don’t you miss high school? the only worry we had was about homework due dates, and trying not to fall asleep during lectures?” he reminisces, “it was easier, but time moves forward, and you get hardships thrown your way. i don’t know where i’ll be in a few years.” he continues, “it’s hard to think about the future, when the present is not enjoyable.” “i know, we should be out having fun, not worried about our hometown being invaded.” saying the words made the situation real, and the idea of your future was unimaginable. “do you still love nancy?” you question. he sighs, “yes, and no.” he thinks about it, you can tell by his face. “i miss what we had, the love was real, but time passed. we both grew into ourselves; there’s no point in ruining that growth.” his stance caught you by surprise, but you appreciated his honesty. “i had a first love too. it was different; it was a love that consumed me, but i lost who i was in the process. it’s hard to go back to someone when you know it didn’t work out for a reason.” he silently agrees, “have you moved on?” he asks. “yes, and no.” you giggle, “i’ve moved on, but sometimes i long for it. it was safe, predictable, but i know in my heart that things will work out for me.” steve’s eyes lock with yours.

you can’t read what he’s feeling, you’re filled with nerves. “i like you steve.” his lips curved, “you do?” you laugh slightly, “of course i do steve. you saved my life today. you make working at scoops ahoy fun. you’re playful, and witty. you treat me with so much kindness. and maybe i’m misreading this thing between us.” you back peddled slightly, worried you might have overstepped. “i like you too, today you brought out a side of me, one i hadn’t seen in awhile. you gave me hope, a reason.” you stomach fills with butterflies as his gaze lingers over you. you scooch forward, placing your hand over his. “steve, i really-.” unfortunately dustin and erica barge into the bathroom, before he rolls his eyes. “okay… what the hell?” steve and you glance at each other before returning your eyes to dustin. together you both emit into hysterical laughter at dustin’s comment. “get up we have to go.” he urges you up and rushes you to the door, erica’s face is stern and her hand is on her hip as she impatiently waited for you two to stand up. the four of you leave the bathroom, determined to escape the mall. you stay back, letting erica and dustin lead the way. you glance over at steve, your hand instinctively reaching for his as the nerves wash over you. he happily holds it, he looks over to you, his teeth bright. “you make me really happy.” he squeezes your hand. “you make me really happy too steve.” he chuckles slightly. “maybe after we escape, i can take you on a date?” a rose tint lifted to your cheeks as shyness crept up. “yes please.” the two of you continue to hold hands as you hurriedly tried to blend in with the crowd of people leaving the theater; however you see men in all black, guarding the exit. dustin tells you guys to abort and to turn around, and you frantically run to the lower level. fear was instilled inside you, however; with steve by your side you felt confident that you would make it to your guys first date.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[wandixx]

Count the freckles, connect them like the stars part 2, Pisces

Summary: Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him

M’gann tried to not do it too often, but there was something really nice in going on a rant about something inconsequential. She was leading a stressful life, like all other heroes, teenage or not. It was impossible not to, when every other day could end in life-or-death situation, with innocent lives as additional stakes. Personally she thought she was quite good at handling it, too. She wasn’t the one to get frustrated easily, to explode at people over things that stressed her out in other parts of life, and lately she even got some useful coping mechanisms thanks to Black Canary. She certainly had bigger problems than characters in her sitcoms.

All it is to say, there was still something enjoyable in channeling pent-up stress into winded discussion about something she found absurd in old English poems or other elements of her homework.

“And it feels so dumb, like, man heard from some witches that he’d get promotion, which wasn’t that surprising, considering everything he’d done, and then become king, and then when he got said promotion by virtue of doing what he was doing, he decided he needs to force the fate”

“Exactly! Like, Macbeth, my man. Even if you assume these ladies are right, which, why would you do that, these were randoms by the road, this means you’re guaranteed to become king. Why kill your king, your friend who you’ve been wax poeting about few pages ago?!” Danny agreed passionately, waving his hands in righteous exasperation so much, that he almost tripped over his tea. In all honesty, he was M’gann’s favorite rant partner. Sometimes he’d ask «Do you need solution or someone to yell with?» and then he was always eager to match her energy and never tried to give her advice when she didn’t ask for it. On few occasions they stumbled upon resolution while egging each other on, but but that was never a point. The point was to complain about whatever until they both felt better about it.

“And maybe it makes sense and makes everything deeper or something, but who the hell is Hecate and why did she just show up? Like, can everyone stop acting like it’s obvious? Not everyone here is human” she whined, slightly redundant. After all, big part of why she was at school in the first place was because people assumed she was human too. Still it would be nice if things were explained a bit more.

“And it’s not even general human thing, just ‘Western’ culture thing. Hecate is goddess from Greek mythology, though I’m not sure why she was used here? Maybe because one of her things were crossroads. But still. She is not really well known. Like, bitch please, not everyone here knows mythology, give people breadcrumbs at least”

“Breadcrumbs?”

“Breadcrumbs. Tiny pieces of information that can lead you to the answer. It’s from some fairy tale, I think”

“Huh. Cool”

M’gann leaned back in her chair and looked at the high ceiling for a moment.

“I need to get around to making bread sometime soon. That could be fun”

Danny just hummed in agreement.

“But it’s hard to heat up the kitchen enough for dough to grow, since it’s connected to main area”

She saw out of the corner of her eye how Danny’s face scrunched up, deep in thought.

“I think Sam mentioned some recipe that let’s bread grow in fridge overnight. I can ask her about it, if you want”

Girl slumped back forward, to look at him surprised, to make sure he was serious.

“Would you?”

“Of course”

“Thanks”

She reached forward to get her own tea. Danny’s eyes followed her hands as if they were artifacts cursed so once you looked at them, you couldn’t look away. She mentally reached out, just a little, just slightly, to brush against his most surface level thoughts to see what got hims so intrigued. Not any deeper, just–

Ah. He found stars in her freckles again. He wasn’t sure if he should mention it.

M’gann wondered how she could ask about it without bringing up the fact that she read his thoughts. Sometimes it was hard to balance between what his comfort and hers. Without telepathy, people’s moods were downright indecipherable, but she knew humans didn’t really see it the same way, and couldn’t separate public thoughts from private ones.

She needed something with hands, something with–

“Unrelated human culture question, girl at my school offered to do some palm reading on me, do you know what does it mean?” she asked, bringing her hands forward a bit. She hoped he’d take them, but didn’t want to make it too obvious. He did, careful warm fingers grasping her left wrist and flipping it palm up.

She slowly moved pen over to where they sat with her telekinesis, doing her best to not call any attention to it.

“It’s a superstition. Some people believe they can read future based on the lines on people’s hands,” he explained, feather-light finger tracing it “It’s usually stuff like how long will you live, something about your love life, maybe some other things? I don’t know much, I always preferred other forms of pseudoscience.”

“Like what?”

“Astrology~” he said with pizzazz, flipping her hand again, “and you have Pisces, which means you’re caring, optimistic, kind and sweet”

M’gann couldn’t help but laugh. She tried to keep open mind to all different Earth concepts, to not treat them as stupid, even if she considered them absurd, but this one caught her off guard. It was fine though. Danny laughed too.

“Does it really?” she deadpanned, after they both calmed down.

“Yeah!” He mindlessly grabbed the pen and started drawing line just below her knuckles “Pisces is one of the Zodiac Constellations, which is this sort of belt of stars that Sun passes through over the year. Each constellation is supposed to take up 30° of the sky and has assigned time to it, based on when Sun is in opposition of it, so it’s best visible at night. People born during that time have specific Zodiac Sign. Like I said, some people believe it affects people’s personalities and life. I’m Gemini, so allegedly, I’m really curious, playful and adaptable–”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Eh,” he stopped drawing to look at her and wave his hand in so-so motion, “Unfortunately some people get really intense and rude about it, so they’d say I’m two-faced and inconsistent or some shit and then decide they should never talk to me again. Personally I see it as dumb fun though,” he finished, scratching against her skin to write visible lines. M’gann was sure this particular pen normally wrote smoothly, but it seemed like skin made it a bit harder to use. It was alright, she liked the slightly tingly feeling it left behind.

“And my zodiac sign is Pisces?”

"I mean, you're not from Earth and I don't know when you were born, so it's hard to say"

"Right, dumb question"

Danny stopped again and stared at her intensely, suddenly deep in thought. M'gann carefully didn't peek, even though she was curious.

"It isn't," he started slowly, "Mars is close enough that parallax doesn't really affect way stars are in relation to each other, at least from what I read, so you probably could see Zodiac Belt from the surface. We can try extrapolating Earth Zodiac to Martian year and based on that see what was most likely visible when you were born. That could be pretty neat exercise"

"Huh. Are our stars really the same?"

"Yeah, it's really cool, but I don't get it enough to really explain," Danny answered, sounding genuinely bothered by the fact. This just wouldn't do, it was supposed to be time for them to unwind.

"It's fine. Maybe next time."

"Maybe next time"

"What's the story behind Pisces? Like the one you told me about Virgo and three Goddesses?"

Danny relaxed, though he quickly turned a bit sheepish.

"Funny story… There is no story" M'gann forcefully tramped down her disappointment.

"So, was Virgo only constellation with the story?" she asked, trying not to grumble. She enjoyed listening to Danny, when he was so excited, with shining eyes and almost glowing. Sometimes, it was hard to get that out of him, even if he genuinely felt it. M’gann was careful to not look to deep into his mind, so she didn’t actually know why at times he kept repressing every bit of excitement he seemed to feel. She was determined to let it surface far more often.

And these were nice stories too.

“No, don’t worry,” Danny said, not quite laughing, but with this type of projection about him, “It's just Pisces really. I think it was because Greeks adopted Babylonian Zodiac and had to scramble to find anything that could be set as origin story for each constellation. For everything else they found something, more or less matching, but Pisces proved to be difficult. Virgo is supposed to look like Maiden and other Zodiac also has assigned something they look like and based on that myths were assigned. Pisces is said to be two fishes that are tied together by their tails but nobody knows why they'd be that. One idea I heard was that they were fish that lead Aphrodite’s chariot after she came to be from sea foam. Aphrodite was Greek Goddess of Beauty and Romantic Love and was born from Uranus' blood that fallen down on see when his son injured him. I'm not sure if said fishes even appeared in any other Aphrodite myths, or even most versions of her origin story, so I don't think this counts. But I like the way it looks. It's pretty."

M'gann looked down on her palm, where Danny successfully kept upon drawing. She didn't really see what could be so pretty about this particular shape, she thought it was no different to other ones she saw, when Danny drew or when she later went to check it out, but who was she to disregard his sense of aesthetics. Maybe it was something specific to how human or ghost brains were wired.

"It's fine," After a moment she added "So, Pisces have no story and some humans can be weirdly intense about stars on night of others birth”

“Exactly”

“And I’m Zodiacless”

“For now… Ha! I’m done!”

When M’gann looked at it again, she still had trouble seeing fishes in it, but at this point she came to understand that humans were really good at finding things in most random places.

Danny was staring at her, when she looked up from wobbly drawing. He grinned, like he was barely stopping himself from laughter.

“Don’t worry, I don’t know how anyone saw fish there either”

[haveihitanerve]

Heyyy, me again!

I got homework due so this'll not be as long as some other asks-

Damian (or Tim), post some pictures/drawings of Batman on their socials, then have to deal w/ people in their dms being weird about it (aka thirsting over the drawing).

If you go w/ Damian, I think he'd take it as an insult to his father's dignity lmao.

Tim had taken hundreds of pictures of Bruce. Thousands, quite honestly. Both in and out of the suit. He couldn't help it, even though now he no longer needed it for evidence. Bruce was just... he was just so photogenic. In possibly the worst way ever. Tim just couldn't help himself. He needed to take pictures. And Bruce was.. well he was just always there. And Tim... he wanted to capture their moments, wanted to be able to look back on their time together.

He snapped pictures on patrol, when Bruce laughed at one of his jokes, head tilted back, eyes closed, fully relaxed and trusting Tim to have his back, almost like he was savoring the laugh.

He snapped pictures at home, when Bruce was collapsed on the couch, when he was hunched over a case, when he was hugging Dick, or Jason, or fixing Damian's tie, or helping him with homework, or twirling Steph and Cass in a circle, or slow dancing with Selina, or dancing with Babs, holding her up so she could feel like she was standing again.

He snapped pictures during meetings and during calls, during fights and during calm, from close and from afar, with other people or alone... and he never shared them with anyone. Not really. Sometimes, he would pull out one or two pictures as blackmail, show them off. Other times he would use them as proof against Jason, or Dick.

But this one... this picture Tim felt the need to share. It wasn't... anything extraordinary. Not really. It was just Bruce. A side profile. Leaning over the edge of a roof, one leg propped up, his arm resting on it, staring off across Gotham. The gargoyles that framed him on either side were like guards, and the sunlight just peeking over the horizon offered a calm, peaceful look. A protective look.

The Guardian and his People Tim titled the photo, and before he could stop himself, posted it. The replies... exploded. Sweet messages, suspicious messages, loving, hating.... but mostly... horny. Tim was disgusted. It was... revolting the things people said.

Dick found the picture and framed it in his room in Bludhaven, though Tim knew he didn't tell Bruce. Jason liked it. Steph, surprisingly, didn't insult it, and saved it. Cass obviously liked it. Damian started drawing it. It was... nice. Sure, people wanted to fuck his father in ways that were... not ethical. But to those others... to him, to his family. It was Bruce that mattered. Tim closed the comments but left the picture. um idk what that was lemme try again

Damian didn't know what he expected, quite honestly. Screams were not uncommon in Wayne Manor. Everyone had their demons. Everyone had their issues.

But these screams... these were dark, guttural. Tortured. A horror Damian had never heard before. It chilled him to his very bones and against his better judgement... he crept out the door, heading for the room responsible. He was shocked when he realized it was coming from his fathers room.

He pushed the door open slowly, just seconds after the screams cut off. Father was awake. Damian stilled, quiet in the doorway, curious despite his survival instincts screaming for him to run. Bruce was kneeling on his bed, his black sheets pooled around his legs, naked from the waist up. His arms were flexed, laying on top of his thighs, and darkness poured from behind him, shadows curling around his body, paler than the moonlight. His eyes were closed, head drooped. Dark, black hair falling across his face. The words jumped to his mind, the painting already forming.

The Fallen Prince. Damian bowed his head, backing up slowly, but the words would not leave his mind. The Fallen Prince. Beautiful. Alone. Deadly.

He finished the painting the same day and couldn't just handle seeing it alone. Frantic, he grabbed his phone, logging onto his secret account that no one in the family followed, and snapped a picture, posting it.

The replies were instantaneous. "he can fall on me." "We can be alone together" "that dark spot underneath him..." "he can kneel on me." Damian deleted the post the next day, and never spoke of it again. But the painting still remained, buried in the back of his closet, illuminated faintly every time he moved his clothes aside. The Fallen Prince.

ugh okay idk what it is about this prompt but idk i cannot get it right! sry this one just aint working for me, hope you still enjoyed the stories tho, tho they aint correct... idk what it is but my fingers just cant write it properly 🤷‍♀️sry

[mjonthetrack]

strange

Prologue "All Hail the Queen"

Friday night in Hawkins, Indiana.

The high school stadium lights glared down like twin suns, casting golden halos over the bleachers as the crowd roared and the football team charged onto the field. But all eyes weren’t on the players. They were on her.

Dominique Sinclair stood dead center on the fifty-yard line, pom-poms raised high, the whistle of the marching band cueing her every step. Ponytail high, red curls swinging like fire in motion, her uniform crisp and cut just right — short enough to make boys stammer, tailored enough to keep rumors sharp.

"Let's go, Tigers!" she shouted, voice ringing like a battle cry, and the crowd exploded with matching chants.

Dominique led the cheer squad like a general. Sharp claps, high kicks, flawless turns. There wasn’t a single misstep — never was when she was in charge. No one dared drop a beat or break form with her watching. Not unless they wanted to cry in the locker room later.

She could feel the eyes on her: students, teachers, boys who couldn’t breathe right when she looked their way, girls who copied her lip gloss shade and still couldn't get close to her shine.

From the sideline, Steve Harrington watched with a half-melted Coke in one hand and a bite-marked straw in the other. “She’s like… a human magazine cover,” he muttered to no one in particular.

“More like a walking knife,” Robin said from beside him, arms folded. “Pretty, shiny, and will cut the hell outta you if you touch the wrong part.”

Dominique caught them staring. She winked — slow and knowing — and returned to the front of the formation, hip cocked, head held high.

Steve choked on his straw. Robin rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.”

Up in the bleachers, Nancy Wheeler watched with quiet intensity. Her notebook sat forgotten on her lap. She wasn’t jealous — not exactly. Dominique was everything Nancy wasn’t. Loud. Flawless. Intimidating. But it wasn’t just her looks or her crowd.

It was the way people followed her — without question. Listened. The way the world seemed to bend around her. Nancy didn’t want to be her… but sometimes, she wanted to know what it felt like.

Jonathan Byers, camera around his neck, stood on the track just beyond the cheer line. He raised his lens to her and clicked. Dominique turned her head at the sound — eyes narrowing, lips curling upward just so.

“You better be catching my good side, Byers,” she said with a smirk.

Jonathan lowered the camera and shrugged. “You don’t have a bad one.”

“Damn right I don’t,” she shot back, and spun away in perfect time with the beat.

Later That Night – The Sinclair House

The game was over, the team lost, and Dominique didn’t care. She stormed through the front door of the Sinclair house like she owned the place — which, in some ways, she did.

Her heels clicked across the hardwood as she dropped her duffel by the stairs and peeled off her varsity jacket, already snapping her gum. The scent of hairspray and perfume lingered behind her like smoke.

Lucas was on the couch, pretending to do homework, but actually flipping through one of his D&D manuals. He glanced up — just once — and rolled his eyes.

Dominique caught it.

“Something you wanna say, punk?” she asked, not even slowing her pace.

Lucas groaned. “Nothing. Just wondering if the house smells like a Sephora because you bathed in it.”

She whipped her head toward him like a cobra, one manicured nail pointing at his chest.

“You better watch your damn mouth, Lucas,” she warned. “And if you even think about going in my room again, I will knock your skinny ass into next week.”

Lucas blinked. “I didn’t go in your room!”

“Liar. My Strawberry Shortcake lip balm was moved and you touched my Prince tape.” She narrowed her eyes. “Touch it again and I swear I’ll end your little Dungeon Dragons club before y’all hit level two.”

“It’s Dungeons & Dragons!” Lucas shouted, voice cracking.

“Don’t nobody care!” she snapped back.

From the hallway, a small voice chimed sweetly, “Dominique’s home!”

Erica came running down the stairs in her pajamas, pink rollers bouncing, clutching a Barbie under one arm.

Dominique’s whole face softened.

“There she is,” she cooed, scooping Erica up into her arms with ease and twirling her in a tight circle. “My real favorite sibling.”

Erica giggled. “Did you win?”

“No, baby, but I still looked good. That’s the real prize.”

Lucas groaned loudly from the couch. “Why does she get the good version of you?”

“Because she minds her business and doesn’t touch my stuff,” Dominique sing-songed as she carried Erica into her bedroom — the one Lucas wasn’t allowed to breathe near.

Inside, Dominique dropped onto her pink comforter with Erica in her lap and pulled out a tiny bottle of blue nail polish from her nightstand.

“Wanna look just like me?” she asked.

Erica nodded with big eyes. “Obviously.”

As Dominique began carefully painting her little sister’s tiny nails, she whispered stories about who was making out behind the bleachers, who cried after tryouts, and what sophomore tried to copy her cheer routine and fell flat on her face.

Erica ate up every word like candy, clutching her Barbie close.

Outside the cracked door, Lucas muttered, “She’s the devil.”

Dominique raised her voice just enough for him to hear. “I heard that, and the devil’s gonna eat your last Pop-Tart if you don’t shut up!”

Back in her room, Erica leaned into her older sister and smiled.

“You’re like… famous,” she whispered.

Dominique kissed the top of her head. “No, baby. I’m legendary.”

End Prologue

Chapter One

“Dom-Dom, Baby Girl”

Flashback – Hawkins High, Spring 1985

Dominique Sinclair walked down the hall like it was a runway and the school bell was her personal soundtrack. Her long legs were bare beneath a pair of cutoff jean shorts so short they’d make a nun faint. The fringe danced with every step. Her black lace tank top clung to her chest in defiance of Hawkins High’s modesty rules, barely concealed by her cheer captain’s varsity jacket, worn open on purpose.

Pink bubble gum popped against her glossy lips. Her hair, curled to 80s perfection, bounced with a rhythm that dared anyone to call her out.

No one did.

They never did.

A freshman opened his locker too quickly and smacked himself in the face trying not to stare. A sophomore girl tugged her own jacket tighter, clutching her books as she stepped aside. Dominique didn’t ask people to move. They just did.

“Dominique Sinclair,” Principal Harrison called from down the hall, trying to keep the edge of frustration out of his voice.

She stopped, spun slowly on one white Reebok, and smiled like a threat dipped in honey. “Yes, Principal?”

“Dress code.”

She tilted her head, eyes innocent. “I’m wearing a jacket. Says ‘school spirit’ right on the back.” She turned slightly, flashing the gold-stitched “Captain” like a badge of war.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. No point. He knew her parents. Her perfect GPA. The nurse track. The letters of recommendation. He also knew that if he called her home over shorts, her mom would show up in curlers and tear the office apart.

Dominique popped her gum again, winked, and walked away.

After School – The Sinclair House

Dominique slammed the front door with her hip, flipping through her Walkman mixtapes like she was selecting a weapon. Her pom-poms hit the floor, jacket tossed on the arm of the couch. The smile from earlier? Gone. She kicked off her sneakers and shouted toward the stairs.

“Lucas! You little punk, did you touch my nail polish again?”

“I didn’t touch nothing!” came the yell from upstairs, defensive and guilty.

She stormed up after him two steps at a time.

“You lyin’ little cockroach, I know it was you!” she barked, shoving open his bedroom door.

Lucas scrambled to hide under a blanket like it was going to save him. “It was Erica! She—she’s the one who moved your stuff!”

Dominique didn’t even blink. “Erica don’t touch my Dior polish. She knows better. You, however, look like the type who’d try to paint a goblin’s toenails just to be funny.”

Lucas sat up, red-faced. “Why would I do that?!”

“Because you’re weird, Lucas!” she shouted. “And if you so much as breathe near my room again, I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’ve been sneaking around with that Max girl behind the school.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. Try me.”

Lucas growled, grabbed her by the shoulder to shove her back, but she shoved harder, sending him stumbling.

“Get outta my face, dumbass!”

She spun toward her own bedroom, but the door was locked. Her jaw dropped.

“LUCAS! YOU LOCKED ME OUT OF MY ROOM?!”

“Payback!”

“You bastard child! I live in that room!”

“You don’t pay rent!”

She pounded on the door with both fists, her voice rising in pitch and fury. “You better open this damn door before I drag your little funky self into next week!”

Then—

Click.

The sound of the front door opening.

Dominique froze mid-tirade.

Their mother’s voice rang out sweetly, “Dom-Dom, baby girl, we’re home!”

Instant switch.

Dominique turned from a devil in hoops to a glowing angel in .3 seconds. She smoothed her curls, pasted on a warm smile, and bounded down the stairs like a precious, God-fearing daughter.

“Hi Mama!” she sang, throwing her arms around her mother with practiced ease. “How was work? Did Daddy’s shift run late again?”

Her mom beamed. “Oh, baby, you’re always so sweet. You clean the kitchen?”

“Already done.”

Lucas peeked from the landing upstairs, jaw on the floor. Dominique caught his eye and flipped him off behind their mom’s back with a saccharine smile.

Later That Evening

Dominique’s door was finally unlocked — because she’d body-checked Lucas into surrender — and she was laying across her bed in a pair of satin pajama shorts and a cropped tee that read ‘Too Smart to Care’.

Erica was curled up beside her, little feet wiggling while Dominique painted her toenails a glittery pink.

“Tell me who cried at lunch again,” Erica demanded, eyes sparkling.

Dominique grinned. “Darla Stephens. Tripped over her own feet in the cafeteria and dropped a whole tray of spaghetti on herself. Slipped on the sauce. We were all so kind, of course.”

“Of course,” Erica mimicked like a good little minion.

They both cackled.

“You’re gonna be captain one day,” Dominique said as she blew gently on Erica’s toes. “But you gotta learn the game. Be nice to people when it counts and make ‘em fear you the rest of the time.”

“I already do,” Erica said matter-of-factly.

Dominique gave her a proud squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Upstairs, Lucas sat in the dark.

Scowling. Muttering.

“Everyone’s scared of her but me. I ain’t scared. She’s not special.”

But even he didn’t believe it.

Chapter Two

"Dragons and Doritos" Fall 1984 – Sinclair Household, Hawkins, Indiana

The Sinclair living room looked like a war zone.

There were half-eaten slices of pepperoni pizza congealing on paper plates. A mismatched pile of dice rolled across the coffee table. Empty soda cans stacked like a junkyard monument. And in the center of it all, four kids hunched over a Dungeons & Dragons board, arguing about spell slots and attack rolls like their lives depended on it.

Lucas sat cross-legged on the carpet, mid-rant. “No, Mike, you can’t just cast Fireball like it’s nothing! You’re gonna hit all of us—again!”

“I said I’ll roll for aim!” Mike Wheeler snapped, pushing up the sleeves of his striped sweater with all the fury a 13-year-old dungeon master could muster.

Dustin was scribbling calculations on a sheet of paper, tongue between his teeth. “Guys, let’s just strategize, okay? We can take the ogre if we coordinate…”

Max Mayfield rolled her eyes. “Or we could stop debating and fight.”

The front door opened mid-chaos, and suddenly the temperature in the room changed.

Dominique Sinclair stepped in, gym bag slung over one shoulder, her white cheer shoes untied, and her curls frizzed slightly from sweat and weather. Her practice uniform clung to her in all the right places: tiny red shorts, cropped “Hawkins High” tee, and long white socks pushed down to her ankles. Her lips smacked on cherry gum as she assessed the scene.

“What the hell…” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the nerd circle before zeroing in on one crucial thing.

The Doritos.

She didn’t ask. She snatched the half-full bag off the table right out of Lucas’s reach.

“Hey!” Lucas protested, reaching for them.

“Shut up, punk,” she snapped, casually popping a chip into her mouth. “You and your little orc gang ain’t payin’ rent. These are mine now.”

She crunched loudly, then tilted her head at the group. Her eyes swept across them like a queen surveying her court — unimpressed but amused.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled. “How cute. Look at the little nerds playin’ ‘Dragons and Dudes.’”

“It’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Mike corrected, not looking up.

Dominique’s gaze shifted — slow and sharp — right to him.

She arched a brow. “You got a problem, Forehead?”

Mike immediately went silent.

Max smirked behind her hand.

Dominique’s eyes landed on her next. The redhead. She didn’t know her well yet, but she knew enough. Dominique crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Little Red.” The way she said it wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t mean, either. Just… warning. “Try anything dumb and I’ll punt you back to Cali, capisce?”

Max blinked. “...’Kay.”

Lucas flushed crimson. “Can you not? Like, please? You don’t even know her!”

Dominique ignored him completely.

Instead, she reached down and messed up his fro, rough and quick like a lioness bullying her cub. “Aww, you mad? You still mad your lil soft spot got exposed?”

Lucas batted her hand away. “Dominique!”

But she was already moving on.

Her tone shifted like a record scratch when she turned to Dustin. She dropped down into a low crouch beside him, voice going syrupy.

“Aww, my little Dust Bunny,” she cooed, reaching out with one long acrylic to stroke his curly head. Dustin leaned into it without hesitation.

“Hi, Dominique,” he grinned, cheeks going pink.

“You keep being sweet and smart, not like this troll,” she said, jerking a thumb toward Lucas. “Here—go buy yourself some Skittles or a comic book or something.” She reached into her gym bag, pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill, and stuffed it into his hand like she was handing off a bribe.

Dustin gasped. “Thanks!”

Lucas looked like he was about to combust. “You’re bribing my friends now?!”

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m the favorite,” Dominique said, straightening up.

And just like that, she headed for the stairs — pausing halfway up to glance back and, without breaking stride, flipped Lucas off with one freshly polished nail.

Erica poked her head out from her room just in time to see the chaos unfold.

“She’s the devil,” Lucas muttered.

“No,” Erica said with a smug grin. “She’s iconic.”

Chapter Three

“Out Past Eight” Flashback – Summer 1985

Dominique adjusted her name badge in the rearview mirror, smoothing her hair as she parked her brand-new Lexus in the Sinclair driveway. The early summer heat shimmered off the hood, casting sunbeams against the concrete like stage lights.

The badge clipped to her pale pink scrubs read: Dominique Sinclair – Hawkins Memorial Volunteer Intern

Even after a double shift, she looked like a walking Teen Vogue cover: fresh lip gloss, lashes still curled, hoops still shining. The hospital might’ve drained her physically, but her confidence? Untouchable.

Her daddy had surprised her with the car the week after graduation — a pearl-white Lexus, brand-new off the lot, leather seats and all. Because Dominique didn’t just graduate. She dominated. Salutatorian. CNA certified. Letterman jacket with more pins than a Christmas tree. Hawkins High royalty, straight to the bone.

The click of her car door opening snapped the quiet.

As she slung her purse over one shoulder, Dominique paused. Something caught her eye down the street.

A flash of wheels. Faded sneakers pedaling fast. Orange hair flaring like fire behind a striped hoodie.

Max.

Then came the others — the rest of Lucas’s odd little crew: Mike, El, Dustin… and Lucas himself, pedaling hard, trying to act like he didn’t see her.

They tried to fly past the driveway unnoticed.

Tried.

Dominique stepped square in their path, arms folded, face unreadable as she sucked on a cherry lollipop and popped it from her lips with a crisp click.

The gang hit their brakes like they were skidding into enemy territory.

“Evenin’,” she said, looking dead at Lucas.

The others hovered awkwardly behind him, unsure if they should speak or salute.

“I don’t know what you invertebrates are doing,” Dominique began, slow and sharp. “But I do know one thing.”

Lucas swallowed hard. “Dominique—”

“If I catch your little black behind out past 8PM,” she said, pointing her lollipop at his nose like a loaded weapon, “when you’re supposed to be in this house—”

She turned slightly, now addressing the group like a disappointed older sister who also might punch someone.

“—while I’m bustin’ my ass babysitting you and Erica, makin’ sure this whole house don’t burn down…”

She stepped forward once, and Lucas instinctively backed up a few inches on his bike.

“I will personally ensure puberty never hits you.”

Mike made a small choking sound. Max clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. El blinked, confused. Dustin just whispered, “Damn.”

Lucas groaned. “We weren’t even doing anything!”

“‘Not doing anything’ is always what kids say right before they set a mall on fire or get possessed by a damn Ouija board,” Dominique snapped. “Get inside. Now.”

“I’m thirteen!”

“And I’m not above dragging you by your ears like you’re three.”

Lucas looked like he wanted to argue more, but one glance at Dominique’s face told him this was not the day.

He groaned again and rolled past her toward the house, muttering under his breath. The rest of the gang followed, scattering like ants, throwing her nervous glances as they passed.

Dominique didn’t move until the last of them had cleared the sidewalk.

She turned back to her Lexus, twirling her keys on one manicured finger. She squinted down the street, thoughtful.

Something wasn’t right.

Lucas had looked… stressed. The rest of them, too. And not just in the usual “middle school’s hard” way. It was the way Max had kept glancing over her shoulder. The way El’s eyes lingered on the tree line. The fact that Dustin, usually a little sunshine dork, had looked like he was carrying a secret too heavy for his back.

Dominique tucked it away for later.

She always paid attention — even when no one thought she was watching.

And for the first time, she wondered what the hell her baby brother had gotten himself into.

Chapter Four

“Cults and Spikes” Mid–Summer 1985 – Hawkins, Indiana

Dominique’s shoes slapped against the pavement as she turned up her driveway, the sun low and hazy behind her. She’d pulled a full volunteer shift, survived a code blue scare, and still found time to swing by the gas station to grab her baby sister some rainbow gum and a new pink nail polish.

Her keys jangled in one hand. Her purse in the other. Her lip gloss was still poppin’, and her scrubs were only a little wrinkled.

She expected peace.

What she got was nonsense.

There they were.

In her front yard.

Like a scene from a knock-off Spielberg flick.

Lucas. Mike. Dustin. Max. El.

And then: Steve Harrington, looking sweaty and suspicious. Jonathan Byers, clutching a camera like it was a weapon. Nancy Wheeler, tense as a matchstick. And they were all huddled around the trunk of a beat-up station wagon.

Dominique froze.

There was a duffel bag being zipped shut.

A wooden bat slid out slightly — spikes hammered into the end.

Her eyes narrowed.

She walked up slowly, like a storm rolling in on heels and heat.

The gang turned too late.

Dominique dropped her bag on the hood of her Lexus.

“Now I know my eyes are playing tricks on me,” she said, folding her arms under her chest. “Harrington? Byers?? Wheeler?!”

Nancy jumped like she’d been slapped.

Lucas immediately turned to dust.

“The fuck are y’all doing with my little brother and these rug rats?!”

Steve opened his mouth to explain.

She cut him off.

“And why the hell y’all got a bag full of spikes?!”

The silence that followed was so thick, you could scoop it with a spoon.

“Is this…” she pointed back and forth between the adults and the teens. “Is this some cult shit? Because I swear to God, if you’ve dragged my brother into some Satanic bat-swingin’ freak ritual, I will call my parents. Then I’ll call all your damn parents—and Jesus himself if I have to!”

Lucas shrank behind Max. Dustin took one slow step behind the car.

El just blinked.

Steve cleared his throat, holding up both hands like he was negotiating a hostage situation.

“It’s… it’s not a cult.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… a group project.”

Dominique stared at him.

Jonathan stared at the gravel.

Nancy stepped in, voice trying to soothe. “It’s nothing dangerous, really. Just helping Lucas and the others out with… school stuff.”

School stuff.

Dominique looked down at the bat again. Then back up at them.

Her arms slowly dropped to her sides.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Yeah. That tracks. Because all high school science labs need fucking medieval weapons.”

“Dominique—” Lucas started.

“Don’t Dominique me, you little creep!” she snapped. “You’re thirteen. Why the hell are you out here with a damn biker gang full of half-grown hormones and homemade weaponry? What’s next? Summoning Beelzebub in the garage?”

Lucas flushed.

Dustin tried. “We’re, uh… playing a live-action roleplay game?”

“Oh, hell no,” Dominique muttered.

“I swear it’s harmless!” Mike jumped in.

Dominique narrowed her eyes. “Harmless. Mmhmm. So if I open that bag, I’m not gonna find any garlic, matches, or exorcism candles?”

Everyone stared.

She started forward.

Steve stepped directly in her path, both arms out like she was a literal fireball.

“Dominique. Please. We got this under control.”

“You got nothing under control, Hair King,” she shot back, sidestepping him. “You failed biology and got beat up by a twelve-year-old last year.”

“Okay first of all,” Steve said, pointing, “that kid was jacked.”

Nancy rubbed her temples. “Dominique. Please. Trust us.”

Dominique froze.

Her lips pressed together, and her eyes went to Lucas — still quiet, still guilty.

The way he looked at her said Please don’t dig.

She didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

But her heart was in her throat now.

She stared one more time at the group. The bat. The tension.

Then she grabbed her purse, glared at every single one of them, and turned on her heel.

“Y’all better be home before the street lights come on,” she called over her shoulder. “And Lucas, if I even smell demon blood in this house, I will whoop your ass into next Tuesday.”

The front door slammed behind her.

They all stood in stunned silence for a beat.

Max muttered, “Honestly? She’s scarier than the Mind Flayer.”

Chapter Five

“He Wanna Play” Mid-Summer 1985 – Near the Train Tracks

Dominique caught them from the side mirror.

Two figures, small and shadowed, walking the tracks near Elm Street. One in a striped hoodie. The other in that damn teal jacket she hated.

Lucas.

And Dustin.

“Oh, he wanna play,” she muttered.

She hit the brakes so hard her pink soda spilled into the cupholder.

Dominique threw the car in reverse, nearly burning out her tires, and whipped the Lexus onto the shoulder. The sun was setting behind the trees, gold fire bleeding into dusk.

She stepped out in full scrub attire and hoops, door still half open, eyes narrowing like a hawk who just spotted prey.

From a distance, she watched them.

The boys were deep in conversation, walking along the tracks like some low-budget Stand By Me knockoff. Dustin was animated, waving his hands. Lucas kept glancing over his shoulder — guilty as hell.

Dominique folded her arms.

“You sneaky little punk,” she muttered, stepping behind a parked truck at the edge of the rail yard. “Out here with Dragon Boy after I just told you—”

She checked her watch.

7:54 PM.

“Oh, bet.”

She didn’t storm out yet. No. Dominique filed it away. She was gonna let him cook. Let him really think he got away with it. Then she’d hit him with the verbal death penalty right when he least expected it — probably mid-dinner, in front of both parents, with a side of shame and hot sauce.

She turned back toward her car, lips curled into a tight, furious smile.

That’s when the other car passed her.

A guttural engine. Too loud. Too fast.

Dominique’s smile dropped as she clocked the vehicle.

The Camaro.

Billy Hargrove.

The red lights of his brake glow reflected briefly in her Lexus’ gloss before disappearing down the street, tires screeching slightly as he whipped around the corner.

Dominique’s eyes narrowed again.

“That psycho again?” she muttered.

Billy had been creeping around the neighborhood more than usual lately — and everyone had noticed. Even she noticed. Not just the car. Not just the attitude. Something about him felt… off.

The way he stared too long. The erratic driving. Max avoiding him like he was the plague.

She’d seen the bruises, too — the ones on his face, his ribs — even if no one else asked.

And now he was out here, prowling again?

Nope.

Dominique didn’t like being ignored. Didn’t like being lied to. And especially didn’t like her little brother out after dark while dudes like Billy Hargrove were cruising around like rejected horror movie extras.

She slammed her car door and peeled off like a storm in heels, the Lexus roaring down the street.

Back on the Tracks

Lucas paused mid-sentence.

The distant hum of tires over gravel hit his ears first. Then the gleam of headlights. Then—

“Shit.”

Dustin flinched. “What?! What?! Demodog?! Billy?!”

Lucas turned pale. “No worse.”

He pointed.

Dominique’s Lexus.

Speeding past the crossing.

Gone, but definitely not unseen.

Dustin grimaced. “Oh damn. You’re dead.”

“I know.”

Lucas ran both hands down his face, already imagining the pain.

Dominique didn’t say a word tonight.

Which meant she was saving it.

Which meant he wasn’t sleeping soundly for the rest of the summer.

Chapter Six

“Slush, Slasher, and Braids” Late Summer 1985 – Hawkins Drive-In

The sky was dark, but Dominique was brighter than every flickering reel behind her.

The white crop tank top — not approved for Sinclair dinner table wear — clung like a second skin. Her mini leather skirt shimmered with each shift of her hips. Platform sandals clicked over the gravel, and the gloss on her lips caught every speck of light the movie projector cast.

Her belly button ring sparkled. So did the gold cuff on her ear. Her bicep bore the hidden Roman numerals of Lucas and Erica’s birthdays, wrapped like scripture under skin.

No one from home would recognize her like this.

And that’s how she liked it.

She leaned against the hood of her Lexus, slurping from her half-empty slushie, legs crossed at the ankle. Her girls were posted up beside her — Bri, the tall one with the thick curls, currently making out with a dude in a Letterman jacket. Kiana, her ride-or-die from back in cheer, was half-watching the movie and texting on her pager for no real reason.

The movie on screen was halfway into a scream fest. Blood, boobs, and a final girl hiding in a closet.

Dominique yawned.

“Who even picked this?” she muttered, tugging down the hem of her skirt. It bounced right back up. Rude.

“I think it was Craig,” Kiana said, motioning toward the quarterback in question — currently stuffing his face with popcorn like he’d never been fed.

“I swear,” Dominique muttered. “All that upper body and no brain. Like a tree with CTE.”

Kiana snorted. “You wanna dip?”

“Nah, I’mma get candy.” She slid off the hood, sandals crunching into the gravel. “You want anything?”

“Hot tamales and maybe a new spine. My back’s dead from this rock.”

Dominique rolled her eyes, already strutting toward the concession stand.

The air smelled like engine smoke, popcorn grease, and too much Cool Water cologne. She loved it.

The line wasn’t long, but the boys in it were loud. She waved past some greasy sophomore from band camp who tried to flirt, ignoring his stutter and stepping straight to the counter.

“Let me get a mix — cherry and cola slush, light ice,” she said, “and Mike and Ike’s. Not the bootleg ones.”

The bored teen behind the counter didn’t even look up. “Yeah, yeah…”

She grabbed her change, slipped the candy into her pocket, and turned.

And smacked directly into a wall of chest, heat, and tattoos.

Her slushie tilted forward — a slow red and brown drip across the front of her white tank top.

She gasped. “Yo?!”

The man — tall, bronze-skinned, braided up and blank-faced — caught her elbow with a strong hand.

And didn’t move.

He just blinked.

Dominique blinked back.

It wasn’t just that he was fine — though God, was he. It was the kind of fine that came with a warning label. Hair in neat braids, tattoos crawling up his throat, thick gold chain against an open black button-up. A blunt tucked behind his ear, like punctuation.

And that accent when he spoke. Like molasses on asphalt.

“My bad, mama.”

Dominique stared up at him, unimpressed, one brow cocked like a loaded weapon.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing at her tank uselessly. “You are bad, Braids. You gone fix this?”

He looked down — slow and smooth — at the crimson stain on her shirt. Then back at her.

“Looks better now,” he said, mouth tilted into a half-smile.

Dominique gave a sharp laugh, stepping back just enough to eye him properly.

“Oh, you funny. You got jokes?”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “Only when I bump into trouble.”

She smirked. “You think I’m trouble?”

“Nah,” he said, his voice low and deep as velvet smoke. “I know you are.”

Dominique licked her lips, ignoring the way her stomach flipped. “You got a name, Smooth Talker? Or should I just call you the Laundry Bill?”

“Jimmy,” he said, offering a hand like he wasn’t made of red flags and smirked sin.

She looked at it. Then looked back up.

“Dominique.”

“Dom,” he repeated, like he liked how it sat in his mouth.

She didn’t correct him.

He leaned just slightly closer.

“You want me to replace that slush?” he asked. “Or spill another one?”

She let out a short laugh, despite herself.

“You full of shit,” she said, turning back toward the lot.

“Maybe,” he called after her. “But I look good doin’ it.”

She didn’t stop smiling until she got back to her car.

[eponastory]

Sometimes. Maybe, It's Okay Chapter 2

James 'Bucky' Barnes finds it difficult to adjust to civilian life. People either think he's an Avenger or he's still a killer, making it hard for him to figure out who he is exactly. His therapist? She's not helpful at all because she pushes his buttons. He's supposed to move on, but how can he when nightmares and flashbacks have him sleeping on the floor? He isn't sure he is living like he should be. His apartment is an empty Hell that he thinks he needs to suffer in.

Until he meets Claire. His neighbor across the hall who plays the cello every day, has two guinea pigs, and cooks amazing food. On top of that, she doesn't care if he was an assassin who was involuntarily used to shape the world by a criminal organization. All she cares about is giving him a place to run away from those demons in his closet. It just happens to be more than that.

Chapter Summary: Bucky meets Claire.

Master List

“Did you meet anyone this week?” Dr. Raynor is eyeing Bucky in the way he hates. Not in the typical way she does where she is trying to get something out of him, but in the way his mother would look at him. “Or even talked to someone?” It's unnerving him so he stares back out of spite. 

“No.” And maybe a lie doesn't hurt either. “Just living the dream.” Her stare changes to ‘don't lie to me’ and now he really feels like his mother is there. He licks his lips and breaks eye contact. “I met my neighbor.” 

“That's progress.” Wonderful. 

He starts bouncing his leg. He wants out of this office and the door is on the opposite side of the room. He has to get past her to get out. 

“So, tell me about your neighbor. What are your first impressions of them?” There is an upturn in the corner of her lips. She's not a threat, he knows this, but he can't help feeling cornered. 

“She's nice.” Bucky doesn't have anything other than that. 

“Just nice? I think you can do better than that.” Doc gives him an encouraging look that also makes him squirm. “Come on, James, you've got to open up sometime.” He drums his fingers on his thigh just above the knee. 

“Okay, fine.” He scrapes his teeth against his bottom lip and rolls his eyes. “She was on the phone with someone when I got home. I didn't want to disturb her so I snuck around, but the goddamn floor is loud.” He hates this feeling of giving in to someone's demands. It feels like she is poking him with a long stick from where she is sitting. “She introduced herself first, we shook hands, then called it a night.” 

“What's her name?” Another jab. 

“Claire.” He says reluctantly. 

“Do you like her?” He feels like he is going to explode with each question. 

“I don't know her, Doc.” He shrugs, feeling the thousand needles pricking him all over… figuratively speaking. “How do you know if you like someone if you only spoke a few words to them?” He's waving his hands around palm up. 

“You talk to her more.” She pulls her notebook off the table to her right and clicks her pen. “James, you've got to forge some kind of relationship or you'll be back at square one.” 

“I was fine at square one.” He can't help leaning back and putting a hand on his face. “Really… the notebook?” 

“I'm only writing down today's details.” He hates that goddamn notebook. “We've only been doing this for a few weeks, so I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt.” She's writing heavy handed in the book that rests on her thigh. “I'm giving you some homework this week.” 

“What am I in fourth grade or something? Come on.” 

“Keep acting like one and I'll treat you like it.” Doc is looking at him as though he really is a child. He slaps his hands on his thighs and clenches his jaw as he feels the need to run. It's almost overwhelming. “All you have to do is meet someone else and get to know Claire.” She closes her book. “It's not rocket science, James.” 

“So you want me to ask her out on a date or something?” He does not think he can handle a full fledged date out in public yet. It's almost too much. 

“Just have a conversation. Learn something about her other than that she is your neighbor.” 

“Fine.” Ultimately, he finds himself complying before the session ends. 

It's too loud out on the streets of Brooklyn when Bucky makes his way back to his apartment. Car horns echo off of the buildings around him as he walks past storefronts and restaurants where he smells delicious food. He does miss the calm of Wakanda, but Brooklyn has always been home. He wants it to be home because the other place he called home for decades feeds those horrible feelings he doesn't want. He does not want to bring up those memories. 

He makes the choice to stop by the sandwich shop close to his building and order a footlong sub with roast beef, ham, and the kitchen sink. It's stuffed to the brim with every topping they carry and he honestly doesn't know if he can fit it in his mouth. Not like it matters because it probably won't fill him up all the way, so he stops by the Chinese place a couple spots down for some Lo Mein and Sesame Chicken. By the time he steps into the first floor of his building, Bucky is ready to eat everything he just bought. 

There is a lot of noise coming from the lobby because the repair guys are working on the elevator. That part of the lobby is blocked off with yellow caution tape that clashes against the dark green paint on the walls. There is a loud bang that sounds like something heavy hitting against the stainless steel doors of the stairwell. When the door does open, it's just a kid with a skateboard. The boy quickly throws the wheels down before hopping on the board and pushing himself through the lobby. 

“Hey kid! No skateboarding in the lobby!” Malcolm comes flying around the corner right as the kid throws up a hand with his middle finger sticking up. “That punk.” Malcolm catches Bucky as he is moving to the stairs. “Hey, Barnes… you got a minute?” The man puts his hands on his hips as he motions for Bucky to follow him. 

“I guess I do.” The former soldier complies even though his stomach is impatiently growling at him. He follows his landlord down a narrow hallway to Malcolm's office. 

“I'm not going to keep you long, but I wanted to give you a heads up on a couple of things.” 

“I appreciate that.” He's standing in the doorway with his bags of food while the other man moves around the desk in the center of the room. “What's going on?” 

“Well, first, I'll be cutting the power to the building at ten tomorrow morning so we can get the elevator all sniffed up. Shouldn't be more than a couple hours, but I'd charge all your gadgets and stuff just in case.” He tells Bucky before he pulls out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk and sets it on top. “The other thing… someone's been breaking into the units. Last night someone broke into one of my favorite tenants on the fourth floor and scared her pretty good.” He isn't sure how he didn't notice, but then again he's two floors down. 

“They take anything?” 

“Just some cash she had stashed in a tin.” The landlord says. “It's probably some punk desperate to pay rent. I can figure out who, but until then, maybe tell one of the ladies on your floor.” That's smart. Tell one woman and she'll be the one to spread the word to everyone else, which saves Bucky some social contact. Perfect. 

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

“No problem. I should have it all handled by the end of the week.” It's not like Bucky was going to play bodyguard or pretend to be a cop. “I know you like your privacy, so I'll let you go.” 

“Yep. See you around.” Bucky says as he turns to leave out of the door into the hallway. 

When he gets to the stairwell, something crunches under his boot that makes him stop at the door. He thinks nothing of the little bag with little blue and orange pills in it. He does not know what they are, but he knows who they belong too. The kid with the skateboard probably dropped them on his way to do nothing good. He did recognize the kid as one of his neighbors, rather the only three that he had seen besides Claire. Maxine was the one with the kid. 

Putting his bags in one hand, Bucky bends over to pick up the little bag of pills and shoves them in his pocket. He was not planning to go to the kid’s mother with it because it really wasn't his place to play cop. He is pretty sure the pills in his pocket are some kind of stimulant, probably something like Adderall. Hydra had been big on the use of stimulants to improve their functions, and he was no exception to the rule. Efficiency was always at the top of the list. 

Walking up the stairs, he hears music coming down the empty stairwell. It's just him in there, but he can hear the long notes of a cello being played from his floor. Great, he lived on the same floor as a musician, but at least they knew how to play. It was daytime hours, so it didn't bother him that much. The moment he stepped out into the hallway, the sound became louder, but more pleasant. He can tell it's coming from Claire's apartment because her door is slightly open letting the sound come out freely. The rubbing of strings together in smooth harmony bounce through the hallway as he moves to his door. 

Her door is just open enough to where he catches a glimpse of her back as she plays. Curiosity seems to get a hold of him when he sees her stop playing because she missed a note. Bucky can hear a curse escape from her before he pulls his keys from the pocket of his jacket. Part of him wants to go knock on her door. He thinks he may do it, but he's so hungry and all he wants to do is eat. The want to involve himself in her time at that moment is swept away when she starts playing again. 

Maybe he doesn't mind her music. 

It calms him in the way music from the 40's does, but for now, that sandwich is calling his name and so is a beer. 

That night he sits at his computer with the box of lo mein while a program filters through names. He had to hack into the list, but that was not hard to do. Years of doing covert ops and assassinations required him to learn  programs like this one. Most of the time, he could get anywhere he needed to go with the press of a button. Sam was incredibly surprised when Bucky used a smartphone to hack into the security system in the airport that one time. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Sam looks at him with wide eyes. 

“I wasn't on ice for seventy years.” 

“Did Hydra download programs into your brain like in the Matrix?” 

Bucky looks at him confused. “What the Hell is the Matrix?” 

“You know what, nevermind.” 

He knows what the Matrix is now, but he still hasn't seen it. 

When the program stops running, he sees seven different names listed on an open window. Each one is tied to Hydra in some way. A couple of them were people he helped get into positions of power with a knife or the squeeze of a trigger. Either way, he now had locations along with every little detail into their lives. Right down to the name of their pets. 

Not that he would hurt children or pets, or even spouses that had no idea what was going on. He wouldn't actually hurt these people, but he could even the playing field by handing over every little bit of information he had. He was going to make amends one way or another. All the names were there in the book sitting next to the laptop. He had written them down one at a time, but the one he struggled with the most was at the top of the page. 

Y. Nakajima. 

Names were powerful. This one came with a lot of guilt and a memory that Bucky could not let go of. To be fair, there were a lot of memories he held on to, but this one was different because he had taken someone innocent. Nakajima wasn't the only one, though. There were at least a dozen more, but this one was in Brooklyn, maybe a few blocks away. 

Bucky saves all the information onto a flash drive before sticking it in the top drawer of his desk. Once he closes out of the program, he finds himself opening a game of solitaire to pass the time until he gets bored enough to watch something on TV. 

He discovered all the old westerns from the 50's by accident, then that led to shows like Bewitched and I Love Lucy. He was fairly certain that James Bond is more his style because he sees how outrageous it can be without bringing up some unwanted feelings. 

He eventually lays down on the couch as he lets his mind numb to the sound of Goldfinger playing in the background. 

He's sitting at a table made out of a pallet and a milk crate with five other men. Its the middle of the night and their sitting in a fox hole on the front waiting for something to happen. He can smell mud and piss coming from all directions because they had been there for days with nothing but rations and their weapons. Yet, here he was, sitting at the table playing poker. Seven cards are in his hand, he's got a pair of eights and he's on the fence about folding. He's clasping a cigarette between his lips as he's trying to decide if he wants to bet five more peanuts because that's literally all they have to use as currency. 

He's looking at the other guys, the light from the lamp in the middle of the table illuminates their faces. He can see someone is having a hard time with their pokerface when there is a twitch of the lips. He may as well fold. He knows someone has a higher hand than him. He doesn't even have a face card, but he still has a generous amount of peanuts in his pile. He's so fucking tired of peanuts. They all are and he just wants something much better. 

It's the sound of whistling that causes all of them to look at each other. It takes a second for him to realize that the game is over and he's reaching for his rifle before a blast rocks the earth just outside of the fox hole. There goes the game. He's struggling to climb his way to the top of the hole, the mud is making it difficult to grip the wood reinforcing the sides as he's seeing flashes of blue coming from the distance. 

He can't hear anything but his own heartbeat when he finally scrambles up to the top and sees the tank coming through the brush. 

“It's a fucking tank!” 

Yes, he knows. It's a fucking tank with a weird blue light coming from it, but what else is new? He's not sure how he managed to keep his cigarette in his mouth this entire time, but it's keeping him sane. The nicotine is keeping his nerves placid for the moment, that is until he gets blown back by a blast. 

The impact of his body against the floor shocks him awake before he reacts by curling into a ball and putting his hands over his head. He can still feel the impact against his head and back as he shakes. He's sweating, it's not hot by any means, but his body is responding to the terror that he hadn't felt in months. His throat feels scratchy, probably because he was screaming out in his sleep and he hopes his neighbors didn't hear. The last thing he needs is for them to call the police for a wellness check. 

It's the middle of the night and a crazy man is yelling from all the trauma he went through over seventy years. It's not exactly a story he wants to explain to the people nearby or the cops when they show up. At least the cops know who he is, even though sometimes they give him distrusting looks. He wouldn't trust himself either. 

He finally relaxes enough to spread himself out on the hardwood floor. The nightmares are not new, but ever since he's been alone, they are more frequent. Sometimes they are intense, other times he just wakes up in a cold sweat. This one was intense because he genuinely thought he was going to die when it happened. He expressed as much after he woke up in a cell.

Someone is yelling at him as they pull him up by his shirt. A sting on his cheek pulls him out of a dark place as the fuzziness wears off. What is he doing on the ground? Why does his hands and eye hurt? His lips taste a little weird too, almost like sour grapes. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Another sting on the other side of his face causes the clearness to go away as his eyes focus. “Sergeant Barnes! Pull out of it!” 

“Wa…” He licks his lips, tasting what he knows to be blood as he is pulled to his feet by two men. “What happened?” He feels unsteady as his legs don't really want to work. 

“We got captured.” He recognizes Dum Dum after a second and sighs. “You took a hit to the head after that blast threw you into the fox hole.” 

“I don't think I remember that, but I feel it.” Bucky feels it alright. He feels it in his stomach too because it's churning from how discombobulated he feels. “How bad is it?” 

“I've seen worse.” Jim pipes up from behind him. “You'll live.” 

“Perfect. I was planning on going dancing.” Sarcasm was how he processed everything, but some of the men in the cell with him took it way too seriously. The nausea withstanding, he manages to finally find his balance. “Where are we?” Bucky walks up to the bars of the cell, grabbing on to them as he feels his stomach lurch. 

He doesn't get to say anything when bile forces its way up his esophagus and he's bending over to let it out. The others stand back as he grips the bar with one hand and holds his stomach with the other. It's not pretty. He doesn't care if he looks like shit or smells like it either, he's behind enemy lines. 

“How do we get out of here?” Bucky wipes his mouth once he stops dry heaving. “They captured us for a reason, so we have to get out of here.” He knows they are all going to die if they stay here. He's heard about all the things they Germans did to their prisoners and he certainly isn't a fan. 

“They've been taking men at random, dragging them off to God knows where.” Dum Dum states as he leans on the bars. “They never come back.” 

“Just how long was I out?” Bucky runs his fingers through his hair until he feels the small laceration at the back of his head and grimaces. 

“Long enough.” Jim crosses his arms over his chest. “About a day. You started moaning in your sleep.” 

“I had a really bad dream.” He pulls his fingers away to find them covered in dried blood. Well at least it's not bleeding anymore. “So, how do we get out? Any ideas?” 

Everyone looks at each other before they all shrug and Bucky is at a loss on why he has to come up with all the plans. He does come up with one eventually. It takes a couple days of thinking and listening to his fellow soldiers being dragged away to God knows behind the metal doors at the end of the room. 

They get their chance when after another three days, guards finally come to their cell to take someone away. Bucky thinks they can overpower them, but it quickly becomes apparent that isn't going to be the case when they bring in new ways to subdue. Now they all carry electric sticks that incapacitate anyone who gets poked with them. It shocks Bucky when Dum Dum goes in to take one of the guards in a chokehold, only for him to fall to the floor stiff as a board. He stares at his brother in arms on the floor, his eyes wide with disbelief before he is suddenly yanked backwards and dragged away. He isn't even sure if he wants to fight back as they pull him through the metal doors. The last thing he sees is the men in the cells watching with terrified looks on their faces. 

He doesn't know when he fell back asleep, but when he wakes up daylight is streaming through the windows. He's used to sleeping on the floor so waking up there doesn't bother him. Falling off the couch isn't new either. There is a reason he doesn't have a bed, even though he desperately wants to be able to sleep in one at some point. Maybe when he can it will be when he can finally find some sort of peace and normalcy in his fucked up mind. Until then, he can't find comfort. 

He sits up after a while, running a hand over his face before finally getting the motivation to move. When he looks in the mirror after flushing the toilet and washing his hands, he realizes he's aged. It's subtle, but he sees the little changes in himself to know there is something normal. Bucky never expected to live as long as he did and to be fair, Steve didn't either. He knew he would age at some point. Seeing how Steve had aged proved the serum didn't make him immortal. It was a relief actually. 

Living forever sounded great in the mind of someone selfish and vain. In the mind of someone who has lived longer than they should through things they shouldn't have, immortality seems like a curse. There are literal gods out there who have been alive for thousands of years and Bucky wants to grow old because living forever is torture. 

Especially after what humans did to him. 

It sounds funny to think that his own kind enslaved him, tortured him, stole his life, and then used him to shape the world. How is someone supposed to recover from that? 

Trick question. They shouldn't. 

But he is all forms of spite and stubbornness. 

The sound of Claire playing the cello again becomes a new normal for Bucky over the next couple of days. It soaks into the walls of his apartment to the point where he turns the volume down on the TV to listen. The vibrations from the music she plays calms him. It conjured up happier memories from his childhood and some of the more beautiful things he had forgotten about. 

It took him a day to realize she was practicing Christmas music because most of it was created after the war. There are some songs he knows, but it's the soft, sweet ones that remind him that he needs to breathe. His nerves don't let him do that most of the time because he is always looking for a threat. He's always checking over his shoulder or listening for something out of place. His eyes will always go to his escape route when he's not thinking about it because he needs to be able to move quickly. 

The sound of Claire's playing does something about that. 

Bucky finds himself standing at her door that is always open when she plays. He wants to ask her why she keeps it slightly open and all he can figure is that it's to let some of the noise out. Which is stupid now that he thinks about it. He catches a glimpse of her playing by the window with sunlight hitting the golden highlights of her hair. She is moving as though it takes her whole body to make every note. 

It's enchanting. 

The thought of interrupting her almost upsets him, so he leans up against the outside of her door frame to listen. The smooth alternation between high and low notes paint vivid pictures in Bucky’s mind, a beautiful canvas of New York at Christmas time. The smells of hot cocoa and cinnamon. Gingerbread houses with gum drops and royal icing. Peppermint from candy canes. Fresh pine from the trees. All things that seem so far away, but so close at the same time wrapped up in nostalgic colors only to fade away when the song closes. 

He takes a deep breath before knocking on her door. 

He sees her turn in her chair with a smile that lights up her eyes before she waves him in. 

It's the first step. 

Chapter 1 Master List Chapter 3

[rosypenguins]

🖤Drake Headcanons💛

(Because they have a chokehold on my brain and I hope they blow up and explode.)

💛Golden Retriever + Black Cat Dynamic

🖤Drew has fallen asleep on Jake numerous times. (Liam has the photos to prove it.)

💛Jake and Drew are almost always beside each other in photos.

🖤Drew lets Jake copy of his homework. (Jake is the only person allowed to do this.

💛Jake and Drew play footsies during class. (Jake usually starts the game, and Drew is usually the one to finish it.)

🖤Drew has accepted that everything he owns also belongs to Jake. Jake will steal his pencils, his erasers, his papers, etc.

💛Jake doodles on Drew’s hand sometimes during class, and will also write random messages on Drew’s papers.

🖤Drew and Jake always work together on assignments if they’re allowed to.

💛Jake and Drew have pulled several all-nighters together.

🖤Whenever they play Genshin together, Drew carries. (And will spend hours helping Jake collect artifacts and ascension materials.)

💛Jake has possibly the worst team combos on Genshin, and Drew has tried to help him build better characters, but Jake refuses to change his team to due to being overly attached to them.

🖤Drew tends to glance over at Jake a lot, just to admire him. (Yet will never admit he finds Jake attractive.)

💛Jake flirts with Drew ironically. Drew gets flustered almost every single time.

🖤Drew’s braincells rapidly begin to vanish if he’s left alone with Jake for longer than 5 minutes.

💛Jake will steal Drew’s food and drinks a lot. (Drew tries to avoid thinking about the indirect kiss.)

🖤The two share have shared clothes numerous times.

💛Jake and Drew spent Halloween one year watching horror movies while Liam and Henry went trick-or-treating. Neither of them ended up sleeping that night.

🖤Drew feels more at home with Jake than he does in his actual house.

💛Jake has brought Drew to several family gatherings.

🖤Drew’s usually the one who reminds Jake of the little things he wanted to do that day. (Like Jake’ll off-handedly say ‘Don’t let me forget thing.’ And Drew will later on remind him of thing.)

💛Jake is painfully dense and doesn’t realize Drew may love him as more than just a friend.

🖤Drew has taken an ‘Am I Gay’ quiz because of Jake. (He took it until it told him he wasn’t gay. And to get that result he had to lie to himself a lot.)

💛Jake has told Drew several times that if he was stressed or needed someone to talk to, he’d always be there. Drew still has not taken his offer.

🖤Drew would quite literally take a bullet for Jake but will never admit it.

💛Jake opened up to Drew about what happened to him back in middle school. Drew never him asked why he was bullied, and instead promised him that he wouldn’t let it happen again.

🖤Since then, Drew became extremely protective of Jake, and almost all of his action stem from this desire to keep him safe from being used or hurt again.

💛Jake’s always been terrified of Drew judging him or abandoning him. Sometimes when they talk, Jake feels as if he’s treading on glass, terrified of missing a step and having Drew hate him. (He often observes Drew’s reactions to Liam and Henry’s behavior to determine what Drew’s comfortable with.)

🖤Meanwhile, Drew’s always felt he had to ‘prove’ himself worthy of Jake’s friendship. (I.e buying him things, being super protective, the arm thing, etc.)

💛Since the start of high-school, Drew always viewed Jake as his friend. He never liked the idea of sharing him with someone else. (Mostly because of his control issues.)

🖤Despite never saying it, Drew is hopelessly in love with Jake, and desperately wants to hold him close. (And probably kiss him.)

💛And despite everything, Jake does not reciprocate Drew’s feelings, and never will.

[ficnowriter]

Oh hey, another draft that I have no idea where this was going. - The sequel

Yet another thing that I found in drafts that I have no idea where I was going with it. Based on the title of the document I know it was based on Gang of Youth's Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane. Past that, not a clue.

Steve doesn’t have the same dream every night, but three to four times a week the dream comes. Sometimes Steve is out on the waves with Kono, they’re between swells and waiting for the perfect wave. Steve knows it’s coming, can feel it in his bones. Chin is back on the beach, Steve can see his dark head moving back and forth as he helps Danny corral Grace. They’re preparing lunch, grilling something that he can almost catch a whiff of, layering over the smell of Kono’s sunscreen and sea brine. Grace is kneeling on the sand, she’d told Steve her plans to build an epic sandcastle, a task he’d agreed to help her with after lunch. She had sketched out what she was looking to build as she’d told him about it earlier that morning, the moat she planned to dig around it and fill with water. He can hear Danny’s laughter out here on the waves and he exchanged a smile with Kono. He’s happy.

            He and Danny are moving around the kitchen doing an easy well-rehearsed dance as they prepare dinner. Grace is sitting on the counter, Danny’s daughter through and through, working on geography homework, asking Steve questions about the places he’s been. Steve carefully edits his stories so they’re safe for Grace’s consumption. He tells Grace about how blue the water is in Nassau, how green the jungle is in Vietnam, how the spice market in Marrakesh is still one of the best things he’s smelled and ignores the way Danny hip checks him when he knows Steve has edited the truth for his baby girl, the details he’s deliberately leaving out. He’s happy.

            Steve and Danny are in bed, the sun just peeking over horizon; Danny’s back a long line of heat against Steve’s front. Danny bitches about being the little spoon but never hesitates to put himself into a position where Steve can curl around him. Steve’s nose is buried in Danny’s neck, breathing in the gentle smell of Ivory soap and laundry detergent. It’s too early to be awake but Steve is, and he’s glad for it, glad to be able to live in this moment. Danny mumbles something, words indistinct. Danny talks in his sleep not often, but a quirk Steve was delighted to discover the first time he and Danny had shared a bed. Nothing Danny says ever makes sense, but then Steve says that about Danny’s waking comments as well. He’s happy.

            The dreams always, always turn. Drug runners bent on taking out Five-O storm the beach, bullets kicking up sand. Steve and Kono are paddling back into the beach as fast as they can, but it’s like the shoreline keeps moving further and further away. Steve can see Danny running for Grace, can hear him yelling for Grace to run, but they both know she won’t be able to outrun the bullets. He watches them tear through her little body and he wants to be sick. Sees Danny’s anguished face before he’s gunned down too and they’re still too far from shore. He’ll never get to them in time. There’s a knock on the back door that Steve answers, swatting Danny’s hand away from slice of carrot he’s trying to filch, Grace laughing at both of them for their childish behavior. There’s no one on the other side of the door, confused Steve moves further away from the house, calling out if anyone’s there. He heard the high-pitched whine just before the house explodes, the rocket coming impossibly from the water, a boat maybe, anchored just off shore. He knows that it’s impossible for Danny or Grace to have made it, but he still turns and tries to get back into the house, the heat from the flames burning his skin, ears still ringing from the blast. He’s pulling Danny closer, thinking about trying to slip back into sleep, just on the verge of it when he hears something from the floor below them. Glass breaking, footsteps on the stairs. Steve feels like he’s moving through molasses as he turns over to the bedside table, reaching for the gun he keeps in the top drawer, but he’s too late. He hears the small pop of the silenced round just as he feels the bed jerk and turns, still moving so slowly to see the hole in the back of Danny’s head. There’s no one else in the room with them and when he looks down he sees the gun in his own hand, silencer in place. 

[namvinoi]

My Alec Huntsman Characterization

With how similar Alec's and Yumi's home lives are kinda, it's a bit tricky for me to put everything down onto paper while still making them distinct + make sense, but taking inspiration from my own real life issues and experience with living with a dysfunctional family, I think I might have something for him.

Let's see here...

When Alec was young (think 8-10 years old) his mother started coming home very late after doing, god knows what. Sometimes she'd even be gone for days, weeks at the worst. Leaving him and the rest of his family to worry, and stress about where she had gone to.

As a result of this she would start to oversleep and miss work, later on losing her job, giving even her more reasons to be self destructive. Basically neglecting Alec and Aly, only when their wasn't dad around. This left Alec having to step up as Aly's parental figure with their dad working all the time, cooking breakfast and helping her with homework, sometimes even neglecting his own life in favor of her's. Because in his mind, she actually has a chance.

This took a LARGE toll on Alec's mental and emotional state, leaving him tired and irritated most of the time. As a way to cope with all this inner turmoil, Alec started to throw himself into his work. Oftentimes working overtime, just so he'd have a reason not go back home. So he wouldn't have to think about his issues. So he wouldn't have to think about anything at all.

He never wanted to distance himself from his friends. Not at all. He's just been so busy taking care of his family, working after school to help provide for them, doing so much for them that he'd prioritize them over all else, that when Kyran had confronted him about everything had-

Exploded.

All the anguish, all the pain, all the anger, he wasn't ALLOWED to feel because of course he wasn't allowed to, it was his RESPONSIBILITY as a good son, he had to do this, Kyran just doesn't understand, why would he? He has everything, STILL has everything. Why him? Why? Why why why-

Kyran, stopped talking to him after that.

Alec mourns. He mourns the days where he could walk into the dining room at night and be met with his family, eating and laughing. Instead of coming home (at 2 AM) met with a dark, quiet house, Aly the only one asleep inside her bedroom. With no parents to be found.

At least, he still has her.

If only he was a better brother, a better son, a better man. If only.

[perfidious-prophet]

The fucking things they dont tell you when you fucking start Testosterone.

Yeah, everybody knows about the deeper voice and the dreaded asshair, but these were my unfunny little surprises after 3 months on T. Reminder that shit will always vary from person to person because we're not all clones of each other, whatever.

1. Bottom growth fucking hurts. Sometimes I don't want to wear pants. I knew it would happen, didn't know it'd be so uncomfortable. And it starts fast. Like first dose fast.

2. The irritability goes fucking CRAZY it's like I'm constantly PMSing. I get why dudes punch walls. Oh my god. I know how to keep my anger wraps, but holy shit.

3. On the topic of PMSing. I had temporary worsening of menstrual cramps. Jesus fuck. I was having pain before menstruation started for days, and sometimes just randomly. I hope it doesn't flare up, but it seems to be calming down now. I think my body is freaking out over weird hormone levels.

4. Vocal fatigue. Talking hurts. I expected voice cracks, obviously, but why the fuck does this shit hurt? I don't even want to talk that much anymore. My voice just gives out. It's still deepening, so a win is a win, I guess.

5. Apathy, emptiness, anhedonia, and numbness. My motivation has tanked. I don't fucking care anymore. I just want people to leave me alone so I can take a nap. I already had mental issues before starting T, and I don't think T gave this to me, but it's definitely changed how I feel my mental illnesses. I have to like relearn how to cope and shit. I don't recommend starting hormones if you're an emotionally unstable dumbass like myself. This is literally second puberty, mood swings and teen angst included. I am a volatile, angry little man.

6. Anxiety. Like I said, teen angst. My panic attacks now include intense nausea, which is New and Uncool. Dunno why that happened. But I'm just nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. I consistently feel like I've forgotten to do homework. I am not even in school anymore. Rad!

7. Psychosis? I had my first intense psychotic break at 14. It lasted 6 months, give or take. I've had shorter episodes on and off since then. My symptoms are stress based. The emotional strain is, naturally, pushing me towards the edge again. I am sure I will explode brilliantly and violently within the weeks to come.

8. Male loneliness is real dudes. Have friends.

9. It's harder to mask. I've been periodically going mute again. I'd never really stopped, but it's more frequent now.

Anyway that's my rant I think.

I'm not telling you not to do hormones. I'm not your dad. But it's not fucking easy. Anyway I have no intention of stopping. I am thuggin that shit out. I had a really really tough time during first puberty, and I suspect I'm going to have issues the second time around.

I am happy with the changes I am experiencing physically. I still feel confident and sure of my identity as a trans man. I am just not very happy about losing control over my mental state again. We'll see how it goes. If I'm lucky, I'll get medicated. I can't afford a therapist right now.

Good luck out there, whoever you are.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Rough Cut- Haruichi x gn!Reader

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Recovery date: January 1st, 2025

Description: I was watching DNA again, and I haven't seen anyone doing even small s/o writings with Haruichi when he cuts his hair and reacting negatively. It would be funny and interesting (Let the S/o gender be neutral, I always read the Fem/READER and we need more variety for the imagination)

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. Starting the new year off strong with a fic about change but no angst.

Word count: 629

Back to directory

Haruichi can feel Y/n’s eyes boring into the back of his head, and he’s trying really hard to ignore it. The teacher is talking with her back to the class as she writes on the chalk board and it’s English so he really does need to pay attention– he can’t just copy the board and figure it out later– but he’s pretty sure they’re glaring at him.

He doesn’t know why they’re trying to explode him with their mind. The only thing he could think of was he hadn’t had a chance to wish them a good morning. Y/n had only made it into class just as the bell rang, so he’d only managed a polite wave before the start of class. Although, as he thought more about this morning, maybe it had something to do with all the attention he was getting this morning. Were they jealous, maybe?

Glancing at the clock, Haruichi did the mental math until lunch. They should be getting dismissed any minute now…

As if on cue, the bell rang out. The teacher hurriedly announced their homework as everyone packed up and people started rushing out to meet their friends.

“You cut your hair.”

Haruichi looked up from his bag to find no one, but looking behind him Y/n was packing up their bag. He turned around, leaning against the back of his chair.

“I did. Is that why you were staring at me all morning?” He laughed.

Y/n cast him a sideways glance before zipping their bag up and pulling it into their lap.

“Yes.”

“What do you think?” Haruichi was smiling, excited to hear his partner’s thoughts. They hadn’t seen each other since Y/n had gone to watch the team at Koshien. “It makes it easier to see the ball.”

“Well, that’s good.”

They stood up and leaned against the desk to his right, waiting for him to finish packing so they could get lunch.

“So, what do you think?” He asked again.

Y/n’s eyes found his, something they’d been good at even when his bangs covered his eyes, and there was a small frown on their face.

“It’s… new.”

“You don’t like it.” His smile dropped.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant,” he sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he finished packing his bag and zipped it up.

The two made their way down the hall towards Sawamura and Furuya’s class.

“I mean…” Y/n sighed, “do I prefer the longer bangs? Yes. Am I a big fan of the current state of your hair… not as much.”

Haruichi laughed. 

It was certainly a big change, his hair had never been this short since he started growing it out. Even for him, it sometimes caught him off guard that people could see the faces he usually made behind the cover of his bangs.

He wrapped his arm around Y/n.

“It’ll grow back,” Haruichi assured them, “think you can put up with it until then?”

Y/n frowned again, “You don’t have to grow it back out if you don’t want to. If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

“I’ll just try a different style, besides, I did this myself. I wasn’t expecting glowing reviews from anyone,” he laughed, then looked around to find the hallway mostly empty before pressing a kiss to Y/n’s cheek. “Not to mention, I like looking good for you.”

“Well now you’re just twisting my words,” Y/n huffed as Haruichi opened the door, “I never said that either.”

“Wha- Y/n-san! Who is this?! How could you cheat on Haruichi?! Did you break up?! Was our loss at Koshien too much?!”

“Shut up, Sawamura!”

“It’s just a haircut, for god’s sake!”